#hunter wakes up and this is the first thing he sees. he's going to die of a heart attack before he's middle-aged at this rate

[margindoodles2407]

Behold. I come bearing in-class doodles from my dear friend @seeking-elsewhither's phenomenal AU Ik'aad. You should go read it it is amazing. 100/10, can absolutely recommend :D 👍👍

Young Wrecker and Baby Omega. Because why not.

And then there's this, based on this exchange May and I had

[the-librarby]

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE III

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

I heart girlhood and first kisses.

Part one Part two Part four

It had been a month since that eventful first day, and Dante had gotten very comfortable in your presence. He dropped by with seemingly no rhyme or reason, every time you tried to assign him a case he would just wave it off. Apparently busy with other work.

Not only did he physically disturb your work hours, but he somehow got ahold of your work number.

When the landline rings, you pick it up without thinking, “Devil May Cry,”

“That’s it?” The voice crackles due to the poor speaker, “No, this is Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” A familiar voice mocks.

You lean back in your chair with a grin, crossing your leg over the other— you better get comfortable this is going to be a long call — and squish the receiver between your cheek and shoulder.

You hum, “Maybe you should be a receptionist, you’ve got the voice for it,”

“Oh yeah? What else am I good at?” The cocky grin is apparent in his tone.

You roll your eyes, “Being a pain in my ass,” your eyes flick to the clock display on your computer, “Aren’t you on a mission right now?”

Dante hums in confirmation, “I found some downtime, just to check in on you,”

Check ins, that’s what Dante liked to call this.

“I’m just as fine as I was yesterday, Dante,” you reply, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you care about me, sweetheart,”

The rumble of his laughter over the speaker makes you inhale just a bit deeper, “Yeah, yeah caught red handed.”

You found it hard to navigate this dynamic with Dante. You expected the flirtatious conversations to die down but as you got more acquainted, if anything, it’s just amped it up. You’re certain it’s just the demon hunter’s nature, and not anything personal, which is fine by you. The last thing you need is to complicate this working relationship even further.

“You there, darling?” He questions, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You lean forward in your seat, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen back up, “Yeah, here,” you respond, “How’s the mission going?”

“So boring,” he complains, “Don’t make me talk about it, any plans tonight? Tell me it’s something fun,”

You laugh, “Going out actually,” you choose to ignore Dante’s dramatic gasp, “Calendar finally lined up, so I’m getting some drinks with some friends,”

Dante lets out the most wounded sound you’ve ever heard, “What! You never go out—”

“Not true!” You interject.

“—The one time you’re doing something fun and I’m not even there to see it!”

You frown, “Who said you would be invited anyway?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous, doll, of course I would be there,”

You hum in reluctance, “No, I don’t think so. Pretty sure I sent all the invites out already, guess yours got lost?”

“I find it funny that you think you could stop me from seeing you.” He assures.

You gaze up at the ceiling, shaking your head in disbelief. You turn in your office chair, now facing the window behind you, the cord follows and wraps around the chair.

“Guess you’ll just have to sit this one out then,” you sigh.

“I’ll find a way,” he hums, “Keep your phone on you.”

Even miles away you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched by him, a constant shadow over your shoulder. The sun is starting to set across the buildings outside, you search every rooftop and can’t find a single sign of a soul.

“Sure,” you spin back around to face your computer, “Better let you get back to your mission, I know you work so hard,” you coo.

Dante sighs, “Think of me when you go out tonight, alright doll? Because I’ll be thinking of you,”

“Goodbye Dante.” you fluster.

You hang the phone up with a click. In the silence of your office you groan, dragging your hands down your face is exasperation.

It was later in the evening when you stepped into the bar you were meeting your friends at. In the corner you can see them waving you over, a grin breaks out on your face. Cheers and greetings are shared, you can feel your shoulders relax. This was needed.

“I need a drink.”

Resounding agreements are met with your statement.

Time starts flying by, and you’re starting to forget what drink number you’re on but it’s fine, you got it handled. When you approach the bar, a guy next to you starts chatting. It’s polite and civil, he’s definitely cute, but when he starts pulling his phone out your mouth opens on autopilot.

“Oh, thank you, but no thanks,” you raise your hand placating.

The guy looks a little wounded— you grit your teeth in embarrassment— but doesn’t comment. Your friend punches your arm as he walks off, her eyes are widened.

“Why did you ditch him? He was so cute!”

You shrug, making your way back to your table, “I don’t know, wasn’t feeling it,”

Another girl chimes in as you sit down, “Wasn’t feeling what?”

“This cute ass guy just asked for her number and she shot him down!”

“Politely!” You interject.

The table is looking in your direction, one girl hums conspiratorially, “Someone we don’t know about?”

You choke on your drink, “No!” It’s not convincing, “No, there’s not,”

“Bullshit, your face is red! Who is it? Someone from work?”

The girl beside you tilts her head, “Your shady receptionist job? That would be interesting.”

Okay, so maybe your friends don’t know the full details of your job. It’s not because you don’t trust them, it’s just because this job is meant to be temporary, and honestly you don’t want them to worry about the people you work with.

Like Dante. Your heart pangs for a second at the thought of his name. That makes you pause.

“Oh my god, it’s definitely someone from her shady receptionist job,”

You automatically become defensive, “There’s nothing going on at work,” it doesn’t feel like you mean it, “I mean, nothing can happen anyway, it’s work,”

You shove down the sadness you feel saying that out loud, it’s not something you can deal with right now. When you look around the table you can see the sympathetic looks from everyone.

You groan and chug the rest of your drink, “Another round?”

You’ve definitely lost track of the amount of drinks you’ve had now. You’re laughing at every little amusing thing that comes across your path, and your friends laugh at how slurred your speech is. You’re just about to enter a different bar when your pocket starts to buzz.

“Wait,” you take a wobbly step back and dig into your pocket, “I gotta take this,” you murmur distractedly.

When your friends start to protest you wave your hand at them, “No s’fine, go in, I’ll be like, five minutes?”

You turn your back to them as they walk in, the phone in your hands looks a bit blurry and it takes you a couple tries to hit the accept button but eventually you get it.

“Hello?” You chime cheerily.

A chuckle rumbles through, “Just how drunk are you, doll?”

You frown, “Don’t,” you reply accusingly, “Don’t call me that, only Dante calls me that,”

“Really? He your boyfriend or something?” The voices teases.

You pout, “No, he’s—” you hum in thought, “Uh, a friend,”

Really, how else could you explain Dante to a stranger?

“You don’t sound convinced,”

His voice is deep, you muse, “What are you? A therapist?” A frown creases your eyebrows, “I definitely can’t afford that,”

The voice over the line laughs, it makes you feel warm, “Where are you?”

You scoff, “M’not giving my address to a stranger!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Sweethea—” you gasp loudly suddenly, “Dante?”

“Bingo,” Dante laughs, it’s so familiar how could you not recognise it?

“Dante!” You repeat, in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are so gone,” he comments amusedly.

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement. Slowly, on unsure legs you walk over to the edge of the pavement to sit on the curb outside of the bar, “I miss you, where are you?”

Dante is going to tease the fuck out of you tomorrow for this. But right now you are not sound of mind to care, or even realise what you are saying. Sitting on the concrete beside a parked car, you watch as other drunken groups stumble and laugh up and down the street.

“On a mission remember?” He muses.

“Oh yeah,” you respond, fingers loosely holding your phone, “How is the mission?”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?”

Your response comes out quick, “If it keeps you on the line,”

The a brief choked noise and pause, you think you hear a quiet curse— fucking hell— in the background, but it’s drowned out by the traffic.

“Where are you?” Dante repeats.

“Huh?” You swing your head around, squinting your eyes at the bar sign out front, “Some bar, Night lounge or somethin’”

“I’ll meet you there,”

You laugh, “What? You’re like—” you wave your hand in gesture, “Somewhere far away,”

“Don’t move, got it?” He ignores your comment, “See you soon, doll.”

You barely say goodbye before the line ends. You stare at your phone in confusion for a moment, what did he mean? Your sluggish mind can’t fit the pieces together, so you shrug it off. Standing up, you dust off your outfit and make your way inside the bar. The girls are urging you to catch up, having missed out on a few rounds.

You completely forget about the phone call.

Hours later, you blearily look at your phone. The clock displays 2:00am. You push your way off the dance floor, leaving your friends behind. Everything is becoming stuffy and you need space, it’s a clumsy exit but you manage to shove your way out. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, you make one last shove this time accidentally hitting someone square in the chest.

“Sorry,” you slur, hands up in defence.

A bigger hand circle your wrist, the other hooking under your chin to tilt your head up, ���Just the person I was looking for,”

Slowly you blink to take the man in, black fitted top, broad shoulders, and long silver hair. A grin breaks out on your face, “Dante!” You cheer drunkenly, wriggling your hands out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck. You feel his arms curl around your waist.

Your cheek is smooshed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, “You made it,” your murmur, “How did you find me?”

Dante looks down at you quizzically, about to respond when you’re suddenly tugged back by your shirt.

“Y/N!” Your friend shouts, “You can’t just run off like that!”

She starts to apologise to Dante on your behalf, “I’m so sorry, she’s drank a lot tonight—”

You hiccup on your laugh, “Don’t apologise,” you poke hard at Dante’s chest, “This is Dante,”

Your friend frowns, “Dante…?”

“From work,” he supplies.

Your friend frowns, looking between the two of you. Dante’s hand is resting comfortably on the small of your back, your hand turning from an accusing point to a splayed hand on his chest.

She raises her eyebrow, “Dante,” she repeats, “From work,”

“That’s me, Dante from work,” he nods.

Another girl from your group comes up, “What’s going on?” She shouts.

She jabs a thumb in your direction, a grin now on her face, “This is Dante from Y/N’s work,”

She gasps, “The Dante?”

Dante’s now starting to feel confused, the two girls in front of him are scrutinising him in his spot. He smiles politely, and lets them look. You on the other hand, are completely taken by a wave of sleepiness. Unaware of the looks exchanged, you slump into Dante’s side.

“Need home,” you murmur.

Dante leans down, hovering closer to your face to hear better, “What?”

You groan at the movement, every shift welcomes a new wave of dizziness, “Need to go home,” you force out.

“Well, Dante from work,” your friend interjects, “Think you can handle this one?”

If you were sober, you’d be more aware of the current stare down that was happening. It’s more than a simple question, Dante was facing a test of loyalty right now, and honestly, it was kinda terrifying.

He answers without doubt, “Yes, I can handle her,”

You crack your eyes open when you feel warmth wrap around you, “Bye Y/N,” kisses are pressed to your cheeks, “Get home safe, and text me!”

You mumble your goodbyes, lots of I love you’s are exchanged before Dante wraps his arm around your waist and leads you outside. Once you step out into fresh air, you sigh. It feels so good to be outside.

“Alright, let’s get you home,”

You slump your head against his shoulder, letting Dante lead the way because your legs are not working right now.

“I wanna take my shoes off,”

“You can’t take your shoes off,”

You cry worriedly, “Are they glued to my feet?”

Dante looks down at your frantic face, shaking his head, “No, we’re walking home, you can’t take your shoes off right now,” he clarifies.

You sigh in genuine relief, the split second reality of not being able to take your shoes off outweighs the minor pain they’re giving you for now.

“Would you cut my feet off if they were actually stuck?” You wonder aloud.

Dante frowns, “No, I would not cut your feet off,”

You tilt your head, “How would you get them off then?”

Dante is unsure of the direction of this conversation, he knows you’re just rambling but the accusing look in your eye makes him think you’re not going to let this go.

He sighs, “Cut them?”

You gasp, “But these are my favourite!” You kick your feet up as to show them off, but you start to topple backwards from the sudden weight shift.

Dante easily swings forward until you’re straightened up again, “I don’t know,” he hums, “Guess I would have to force them off, they’d have to unstick at some point.”

You smile, satisfied at his answer. The streets are starting to get a little quieter as you walk away from the bars, it’s nicer like this, you can hear the cars driving past and a quiet ringing in your ears from the loud music earlier.

Dante’s mind floats back to what your friends said, “Do your friends know me?”

You hum questioningly, thinking back over the blurry events of tonight. After the phone call you went back in the bar, your friends were sitting at the table urging you to catch up on drinks. No wait, something before that.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

“Dante,” you answer simply.

“Dante?” They emphasise, “Who is Dante?”

You shrug, “From work? He’s so annoying,” you roll your eyes, “Keeps calling me all sorts of names, doll, sweetheart, my love,”

While you’re rambling your friends eyes widen, the whole table shocked at the revelation you’ve just spilled.

“Y/N, my darling,” you scrunch your nose, “You know he likes you, right?”

“What?” You scoff, “That’s impossible,”

“Why?”

That made you pause. Why was it impossible again? Something about boundaries and lines interfering.

“Oh my god!” Hands slam on the table, “It’s him! The guy that nothing can happen with!”

Gasps resound around the table, but your head is spinning. Before they can ask you anymore questions you head for the bar.

“You’re the guy,” you say.

“The guy?”

You huff, waving your hand, “The guy,” you emphasise, “From work, where nothing can happen, because you’re from work,” you tag on the end, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Now Dante can read between the lines. In this case, the line is very obvious in your oversharing confidence. A line that should not be discussed right now. He knows. Your apartment building is coming into view, Dante recognises the familiar entrance steps and railing.

“Something you want to say to me, darling?” It’s cruel to ask in your state, but he can’t help it.

You stop abruptly in your path, Dante looks down at you as you turn to him, a determined look pinning your facial expression.

“Yes,” you accuse, stepping closer, “How dare you,”

Dante smirks, “How dare I what?”

You point a finger waving it between him and yourself, “Act like this,” you gesture, “You’re not my partner,”

The drunken words are not eloquently said, but he understands. He steps closer, you tilt your head up to continue facing him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, suddenly serious.

You frown, “This is so not fair,” you reach your hands up to cup his face, “You can’t look at me like that,”

Dante would put money down to see what you see in him right now, “What do I look like?” He whispers.

Your thumb grazes gently under his eye, “Not how a friend should look at me,”

He glances down at your lips, “Will you forgive me in the morning?”

His abrupt question confuses you, “For what?” You smile in amusement.

Without warning he leans down, causing your hands to slide down to the back of his neck. Your eyes widen in anticipation, he pauses close to your face, giving you a chance to back off.

“I swear if this is a sick joke, I’ll kill you Dante.” you promise.

Hands grasp your hips, tugging you flush against chest. Seconds later, Dante’s lips are on yours. It’s gentle, is what your foggy mind can comment on. Your hands reach up into his hair, gently curling into the strands, him groans in response with deepened the kiss. One of your hands travels down his chest, feeling for the hem.

Before you can get your fingers underneath, you feel the world spin before your back hits something hard. The kiss breaks, and when you open your eyes and look around you can see you’re leaning against the brick all of your apartment building.

Dante’s heavy breathing matches your own, he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s time for you to go to bed,”

You ignore him, tugging him closer by the loops of his belt. He moves forward without a fight, you lean up to kiss him once more. Dante feels weak in this moment, he can’t say no, not when your fingers are curled around his pants like that. When your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, there’s only a warning hum. A cautionary, don’t. With a smile against his lips, you breach under, letting your finger tips glide over his hipbone. You don’t get much further until a hand grasps your wrist.

“You’re breaching out of bounds territory,” Dante warns.

You grin, wriggling your fingers that are still trapped under his shirt, “Let me in,”

Dante smiles in amusement at your boldness, “No,” he counters.

Your mouth drops in shock, as if not expecting that response, “You’re so mean,”

His hand drags yours out, “You already knew that,” he winks.

You pout, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Your slightly smudged mascara affects Dante in a way he didn’t know could, his thoughts are starting to drift too far. Thoughts of you in this outfit, on your knees on your bedroom floor, choking around—

He blinks the thoughts away. He needs to stop this.

Gently he tugs you off the brick wall, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment entrance. Getting the hint, you fish out your keys.

You look at him one last time, “This is real right? I’m not imagining it,”

Dante chuckles, “I would be a fucking fool to pass you up,” he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, his hand cups your face, “Text your friends that you’re home, before they think I killed you,”

You laugh, “I will,”

He leans again, finding it hard to part from your lips but he manages to pull away one last time, “Call me in the morning?”

You hum, leaning against his hand as you peek your eyes open, “Afternoon okay? I’ll definitely feel like shit tomorrow morning,”

Dante smiles, “Deal.”

[bejeweledinterludes]

── .✦ ⌈ dean x reader headcanons that are 2 specific.⌋

『 part 2 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> being a decent hunter, the winchester brothers had heard of you before, and you them— you’d heard stories, of course, but you never officially crossed paths until you were at bobby’s house at the same time they were. you’d known bobby— because everybody knew bobby—since you started hunting.

your greeting to them came almost as quickly as your goodbye, nodding at them with a “hey” while clambering down bobby’s front porch to your car, your usual bag full of weapons and books in hand— but not before you notice the jet-black ‘67 impala next to your own.

and you know your way around a car, having your own ‘baby-esque’ vehicle that you love more than life itself (can be vintage or newer model, doesn’t matter, because it’s yours). dean had noticed your car in bobby’s driveway immediately, too— who wouldn’t? the man had eyes.

anyways, you walk past baby in all her glory while nodding appreciatively— turning just a little to dean and tossing a free thumb towards her with a grin before saying a quick: “dude. bitchin’ car.”

and after initially being thrown off by the way you carried yourself, a mixture of confidence, respect, and almost familiarity— dean shoots back with a “could say the same about yours.”

at that remark, you freaking smiled. and dean almost fainted right then and there at the sight. you got in your car, and that was it, due to your visit to bobby’s house really being just a pit stop/supply run before you headed right back on the road again, a new hunt already waiting for you in montana.

> because despite sam and dean being the most good-looking hunters you ever laid eyes on, you weren't one to dilly dally over just a pretty face (when lives were on the line, of course). but somehow, you knew that you’d see them again. hunting wasn’t exactly a booming career field, after all.

> that being said, it took dean a while to get comfortable around you whenever you did end up working together— like a while. you’d only crossed wires with the brothers a few times, helping them out when you could on hunts over the next few years. sam and you made easy friends almost immediately, but dean took longer to warm up to you. but you didn’t mind, or take it personally. you never pushed dean to be your friend even with how much you wanted to be.

> when you guys do work together, though, you and dean understand every single pop culture reference you guys throw at each other. he was shocked when he referenced a classic 80s movie (it was weird science) while working one of your first cases together.

and not only did you understand it and laugh— you made your own joke about it. now you two can’t shut your traps once you get going (for the love of god, do not ask about die hard around them).

> dean and you have also almost blown your cover and gotten caught on hunts because you guys laugh/giggle too loud at what the other says (especially in serious situations).

your favorite running joke is finding old portraits of ugly dead guys, pointing a finger at them and saying to dean “huh, i didn’t know you were alive in *checks plaque under painting* 1837” (and don’t worry, he does the same exact thing to you.)

> dean once fell asleep on your shoulder during a stakeout/recon/watching a potential victim’s house and you didn’t move an inch the entire time. when you finally tried to gently wake him up, he had the audacity to sleepily mumble “jus’ five more minutes” into your shirt and cling to you like a koala in the car. you, being the saint and not wanting to argue, let him sleep for another 2 hours couple minutes.

> and soon enough, dean eventually came around. you knew he cared about you way before he did, but you never forced anything. he appreciated that more than you knew.

and it wasn’t just one single moment of realization like in the movies when dean knew he cared about you. it was quiet, simmering, and when he looked, it was already just… there. but the feelings he hadn’t noticed he’d been pushing down for so long came to a head on a hunt when you almost died— the way they always did when someone he cared about was hurt.

after that, something shifted. you could feel and see it, even if dean didn’t say anything outright to you. for one, he called more often when you were away— he’d need help with something you knew that he already knew damn well how to do, or with something you knew he had much better contacts for.

i mean, come on. he knows freaking rowena, and he’s calling you for assistance on a spell? and sometimes, he’d call for no reason at all, making up some excuse just to hear your voice. you never mentioned it, out of fear he’d stop calling entirely.

> because you always loved when dean called.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

i genuinely believe that i tweak out over this man at least 4 times a day stg. and the gif i picked lives in my mind rent-free. he looks so ethereal sigh i wish he was real 💔

ANYWAYS here’s my taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[smoky-lucine]

Back from the Dead

Dean Winchester & Little sister!reader After Dean dies, Y/N is stuck mourning for months. When he is freed from hell, he tries to call her. Angst, Sam's mentioned but not actually there, more Bobby than anything 💀 This is my first fic i'm posting omg! hopefully it turned out alright

After Dean died things quickly fell apart. Sam clearly wasn’t okay, and neither were you. You got new cases here and there, but it wasn’t the same without Dean. You and Sam decided to slow down on hunting for the time being to grieve. Days turned into weeks, crying turned into drinking, praying turned into attempting crossroad deals, and eventually you woke up one morning alone in the motel with no trace of Sam.

You tried calling his phone for days, tracing any of his aliases, looking into any cases nearby hoping he found one on his own. He was completely gone.

After a couple weeks of searching, you called Bobby. He hasn’t heard from Sam in weeks and offered for you to stay with him instead of living from a motel. You took a bus to his home, and he greeted you with a big hug. You both don’t like to admit it, but he’s been more of a father to you than your actual dad ever was.

He let you move into his spare bedroom, and that's where you spent the first few weeks. Bobby would leave food at your door. He would sometimes try to come in and talk to you, but you weren’t very talkative anymore. Occasionally he’d practically drag you down to the library. He either needed help researching for other hunters or would tell you, “Spending all your life in that damn room won’t help you at all. I know it’s hard. We’re both hurting Y/N, but please just talk to me instead of suffering up there all day.”

Most nights he could hear your nightmares. He wasn’t there when Dean died, but he was there when you all buried his body. He couldn’t even imagine what it looked like actually seeing him die. Bobby could hear you crying in your sleep, begging Dean to keep breathing. He would come in and wake you up when you would start to scream. He couldn’t stand hearing you relive your brother's death every night.

Eventually the two of you were able to talk and mourn Dean together, slowly grieving and beginning to move on. You started to spend more time downstairs, researching, watching TV with Bobby. He even got you to go out to dinner one night.

The two of you would talk about Sam sometimes. Bobby would hear you late at night sobbing on a voicemail to him hoping he would finally pick up. You both knew he was alive, making your confusion on why Sam wouldn’t talk to you even more saddening. Bobby didn’t have much to say to comfort you anymore.

“I’m sorry kid. I know he’s out there somewhere; he’s just trying to mourn and move on too.”

One day you were cleaning up the library while Bobby made lunch, when you got a call. Nobody calls you anymore. Looking at the unknown number you cleared your throat and answered, putting the call on speaker.

“Hello?” You say, still putting away books.

The person on the line gasped. “Y/N?”

“Who is this?” Bobby hears you on the phone and stands right outside of the library to listen in.

“Y/N! It-It’s Dean! I can’t get a hold of Sam where are you guys?”

Your eyes pop out of your head, and you drop the book you were holding. “Dean? You can’t be Dean.” Your eyes cloud up with tears and Bobby runs into the library.

“Y/N it really is me please listen to me kid. Listen I don’t know-” Bobby grabs your phone and takes it off speaker.

“You listen to me idjit I don’t know how you got this number or why you think this is funny, but I better never hear you playing these kinds of damn tricks on us ever again.” You hear the person on the line start to talk but Bobby ends the call. You sat down at the desk and broke down. You hadn’t heard Dean’s voice in months, but it really did sound like him.

Bobby pulled a chair up and put his arm around you. “Kid I know you weren’t expecting for that to happen but we both know that wasn’t him.”

“How was it not?” You sobbed. “That was his voice. I know that was his voice.”

You lean into Bobby, and he holds you as you sob. He tried his best to comfort you, but he wasn’t very good at it, and he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening either. It took a while, but eventually you calmed down and you guys decided to just relax and call it an early day.

Later that night you were in your room getting your things ready to shower. You grabbed your clothes and started to make your way to the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. You weren’t sure who could be here at this hour. You put your stuff in the bathroom and start going down the stairs when you hear Bobby grab his knife and you hear a fight break out. You take your own knife out of your pocket and run to the front room.

There you see Bobby and Dean fighting. “Bobby! It’s me!” “My ass!”

You couldn’t believe Dean was right in front of you. He looks completely fine, like he wasn’t torn apart by hell hounds just a few months ago. Like you didn’t bury him just a few months ago.

“Wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” Dean looks terrified and Bobby stands still. You drop your knife in shock and they both turn to look at you.

“Dean.” Your face is white as a ghost, your heart pounding.

Dean’s eyes soften and he stands up. “Y/N.”

He starts to walk towards you and Bobby blocks him. He stares at Dean for a second and touches his shoulder. He still doesn’t believe it. You run up and push Bobby’s arm away, hugging Dean as hard as you can. Dean hugs you back and you both sigh a breath of relief.

You pull back and take it in. Deans alive. Right in front of you.

You can’t help but to start crying for the second time that day. Dean tears up a little too. “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that happen to me.”

“I knew it had to be you calling. I was right.” You both pull back into the hug.

The three of you sit down to talk about what happened. Dean asks where Sam is, and you have to explain how he left you with no warning and you had to come here. He can’t even believe it. Bobby explains the last few months and that in the morning we can start looking for Sam again.

In the meantime, Dean takes a shower and eats an actual meal. Bobby tells him that he can either take the couch or share a bed with you. He chooses the latter.

You and Dean get in the bed and it’s still a shock that your oldest brother is right here in front of you. You lay on his chest and take a deep breath. Months ago, he wouldn’t let you come close to him if he was tired, but he thinks that tonight and possibly the next few weeks could be an exception.

“Y/N, we’re going to fix all this. I’ll make sure of it. We’re gonna find Sam, we’re gonna figure out who brought me back, and I’m going to make sure you never have to go through this again. I promise.”

“I can’t believe you're actually back. I’ve been praying for this for months.” You yawned. It’s been a long day and you both were quickly falling asleep. “I missed you.”

“I know you did kid. I missed you so much.”

[miserable-sarah]

I Care 18+

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fingering, oral (F), mentions of blood, bad language, unprotected sex, praising. Requested: Heyyy, idk of ur requests are open but if they are can u please write a dean Winchester x ex girlfriend smut who is a hunter and who dean is still not over. Sam and Dean rescue her from a vampire nest and dean is angry and worried after her and she's all like "stop acting like you care" and he says something like "I'll show u how much I care" + angst + kinda enemies x lovers + dark dean? + marking ; ( set in early seasons llke;1,2,3) A/N: I did make a few changes, let me know if you enjoy it! Thanks!

~

You've been hunting down this nest of vampires for a while. It was a big nest, bigger than you've ever seen. It's a hard job alone but you're confident enough in yourself to do it.

Well at least that's what you thought, you see you went into the nest killing almost all of the vampires that were there. You somehow missed calculated the amount. You got taken down and now you're tied up with no way out. You are dreading this, you have no one coming to save you. You're not scared, you're angry. you're mad that they caught you, and mad that you can't get out by yourself. You don't want to be turned into a vampire or have all of your blood drained from your body. So this sucks. You can hear the vamps talking about something they're too quiet to make anything out.

"Hey! Are you guys gonna do anything with me or?" You ask getting annoyed, you'd rather just die now. They just ignore you of course. So you start singing at the top of your lungs to annoy them, they have "super hearing", you know it bothers them. You continue for a couple minutes until someone, you're assuming the head vamp, comes over to you right in your face.

"Shut up!" He yells in your face "I'll kill you right now!" Just as you were about to say something, you hear a commotion. The head vampire cuts your stomach making you wince, then he leaves without saying a word.

"Aw come on, don't leave me here." You say in a stale tone. "We were having fun." you add. After a couple minutes, you don't hear anything.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

"Oh, fucking kill me." You mumble to yourself.

"Couldn't handle the nest?" Dean smirks at you. You don't say a word just ignore him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Dean, leave her alone." Sam says to him, Sam comes over to you and unties you.

"Thank you, Sam." You smile at him. You glare at Dean.

"Are you alright?" Dean drops his tough guy act.

"Fine." You say sternly, you walk away from the boys trying to leave the building. You however, weren't fine. You were bleeding and had no idea.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Dean says to you.

"It's fine, it's nothin-" You look down and see what he's talking about. You're covered in blood. You lift up your shirt and see a huge cut on your stomach. "Oh no." You feel dizzy and then Dean's arms around you as you fall.

~

You wake up in a motel room, not unusual.

"Dean?" You say softly looking around the room.

"Hey, you okay?" He answers, he sits next to you placing his hand on your back.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." You mumble. You stand up even though your stomach is in pain.

"You should relax for at least a few more hours."

"Nah, I'm good." You say looking around for your things.

"Y/n, I'm serious." Dean says to you in a frustrated tone.

"Dean, I don't care. I'm fine."

"Y/n! Sit down!" He gets angry with you.

"No!" You yell, you have to hold back a wince. He's right you are hurt but you're not going to sit in a room with your ex boyfriend because you're hurt. You can recover somewhere else.

"You're hurt. Something can happen to you!"

"Oh and now you care?" You roll your eyes. "Stop acting like you care."

That was it for Dean. He stood up and got right in your face. "You don't think I care, huh?" He chuckled at you. "I'll show you how much I care." He said with promise. Dean smashes his lips on yours, at first it took you by surprise but you came around to it very quickly. You kiss back but then pull away.

"Dean what are you doing?" You say trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "We can't, I mean we broke up. It's been months-"

Dean has been on your mind since you two broke up. It was over something stupid, literally so stupid you don't even remember what it was about. You were in love with Dean, well you still are. He treated you like a princess, but like a bad ass princess. He was your safe place and you were his. When you broke up it just so happened to also be a really bad time in his life and he needed to leave. So he did, you two never got to fix what was broken.

"Stop talking." Dean interrupts you. You go to say something else, Dean cuts you off by kissing you, again. This time you immediately kiss back. You slide his jacket off and tug at his shirt. He breaks the kiss to lift his shirt off. Your hands run down his muscular body. You almost moan in excitement.

Dean carefully took off your shirt, trying not to hurt you. He unclipped your bra and tossed across the room. His hands gently massaged your breasts, you let out a little whine. You've been so needy for him it's pathetic. Dean picks you up effortlessly and drops you on the bed. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them off your body, you can feel yourself getting wet with anticipation. Dean hovers over your body he kisses you softly, then your neck, down to your chest, then down your stomach and all the way to your panty line.

"Dean, please" You beg quietly. You hear Dean chuckling.

"Patience sweethheart." He says as he slowly takes off your panties. He kisses up your legs to thighs incredibly slowly. You groan in frustration Dean ignores your frustration.

"Please!" You beg louder.

"Look at how wet you are." He smiles at you "All for me?" He smirks.

"Yes" You moan softly.

Dean finally enters a finger in you, you moan in relief. He watches your face making sure you're enjoying it, he enters another finger and thrusts them deep curving his fingers to make sure he hits your g-spot. You moan louder at the feeling, it's been months since you've been with Dean, well anyone for that matter. Dean always knew what to do to please you though, he just knew your body so well.

"You like that baby?" He asks, you nod and moan "Words" He says

"Yes, Dean." You say softly.

"Good girl." He smirks at you. Dean dips his head between your thighs, you feel his tongue directly on your clit.

"Oh my god." You let your head hit the bed and close your eyes. Dean continues to pump his fingers in and out of you while his tongue dances around your clit. It feels so amazing. You start to buck your hips, he puts his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He adds a third finger stretching you out for him. You moan and whine, it feels good but you want him. All of him.

"Dean, please" You pant. He ignores you, he keeps sucking and licking your clit. "please." you whimper. He still doesn't listen. Your legs are shaking and you try to squeeze your thighs together but Dean won't let you. Your moans become more desperate. "Feels so good" He keeps going he can tell your close by the way you're squeezing his fingers.

Your buck your hips up, you let out a loud moan, your vision goes blurry and you see stars. Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, you look down at him out of breath. He licks his lips then smiles at you.

"You taste good." He slowly crawls up to your face and kisses you. You kiss back and pull him closer. You reach your hand down his stomach and realize he's taken off his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, he lets out a groan. Dean takes your hand and puts it down his boxers you take his invitation and pump his cock slowly. Dean kisses and bites your neck. You pull your hand out and pull his boxers down springing him free. He moans at your movements.

You tried moving to get on top of Dean but he stopped you. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you." he says kissing your forehead. He lightly brushes his hands down your body to your legs, he places them around his waist. He lines himsef up with you and slowly enters you. You and Dean let out a loud moan. "You feel so good." He says through his teeth. "So nice and tight."

"You're so big." You arch your back.

"I've missed you." He says he leans down and kisses you, you kiss back. He rests his forehead on yours, in this moment everything feels right. It feels like everything is going to be okay. You've missed this feeling.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me." Dean praises "Such a good girl." His words make you weak.

"You feel so good." you moan. Dean switches positions he leans up and places your legs on his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. You moan louder, so does he. His grunts and groans are getting more frequent.

"Damn baby, I've missed this pussy." He brings his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing "I can't believe this is all mine. Only mine."

"Yes, all yours."

"I know." He mumbles. Dean continues to rub your clit causing your legs to shake. You whimper and try to move around. "I know baby, I know." He coos at you. "Feels so good, huh?" You nod. "Words." He reminds you.

"Y-yes." You stutter "So good." He's so focused on pleasing you, his hair is messy, his body is glistening, his grunts and groans are filling the room along with your moans. You can feel your whole body shaking, your walls are clenching around him.

"Damn baby you're squeezing me so tight." Dean moans. His thrusts get deeper and faster. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes" You moan "Feels so good."

"I know, you feel so good too." He groans. "I'm not going to last long with you squeezing me like that."

"I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead baby, cum for me." His fingers rub faster on your sensitive clit, with every thrust he hits your g-spot, his words are ringing through your head. Your body starts twitching, your legs shaking, you close your eyes tight, you try to scream but nothing comes out. Dean helps you ride out your orgasm, soon after you feel him fill you up. He lightly presses his body on yours and catches his breath.

You wrap your arms around Dean and hold him. He kisses your shoulder a few times before rolling off you. "Uh, let me clean you up." He says awkwardly. Dean gets up and grabs some clean towels he cleans you up then cleans himself up. "I'll change your bandage too."

"Dean." You grab his arm. "Just come lay down."

"But-"

"Please." You cut him off. He nods and lays down next to you, you move yourself so you're laying your head on his chest. "I've missed you." You look up at him.

"Me too." He says softly "Sorry-"

"Dean. It's okay. I know you had to go." You cut him off. "I'm sorry I never got to apologize."

"I know." He pulls you a little closer to him.

You're not sure what will happen next, you're hopeful it'll work out between you two. You both have a lot of love for each other, if it's meant to be it will be. But for right now all you want to do is enjoy your night with Dean Winchester.

[super-subraminion]

apple white is so horrible but she is also so kind and thats why she's awesome

(super long yap session below because i want to ramble about apple because she is so interesting to me just as a warning lmao)

i feel like i see sm ppl on like tiktok and all (which maybe my first mistake was expecting nuance on tiktok) acting like she's like the evilest character on the show and i feel like thats just so reductive of her character

like apple is so kind she genuinely loves her friends so much; she's always been so excited and kind around raven when everyone else was afraid of her; despite the fact that her happily ever after is essentially nepotism, she works so hard to prepare to be a good ruler and wants the best for her future kingdom; she's constantly seen helping people and trying to enact change as leader of student council(i.e having the duck crossing or smth along those lines, i don't remember exactly), etc etc.

but at the same time she fails to realize how cruel she can be at times and thats why shes so awesome. like hello, the daughter of snow white, this elegant, perfect, delicate princess also simultaneously being so selfish is so good?? even though she loves her friends so much, she fails to realize or understand why they wouldn't want to uphold the status quo; even though she is kind to raven, that kindness comes with the expectation that raven will sacrifice her life to uphold the system for apple's happily ever after; even though she grinds and grinds to be a good ruler, she is still unaware of the privilege she has; even though she helps people, she can just as easily say out-of-touch and cruel things(like when after legacy day, she takes a dig at the rebels because they don't have happily ever afters)

honestly apple's privilege in and of itself is so interesting to me- because she does go through so much and she is a victim of the system— imo everyone is a victim of the system because even those with happy endings have to sacrifice their free will in order to obtain it(i.e ashlynn's ending is good but she'd have to sacrifice her relationship with hunter for it, cerise also technically has a good ending assuming she goes w the red riding hood destiny but she sacrifices half of her identity for it). in apple's case, she was conditioned to accept everything that came with her destiny with a smile on her face, conditioned to accept a man as her destined prince when in reality they had no idea who her destined prince was and she's gay so she would've just been trapped in a loveless marriage, lied and manipulated to so she could maintain the system. assuming that eah's snow white follows the canon of the original fairytale(ik there's some differences like how raven technically wouldn't become apple's stepmom, and raven's mom wasn't apple's mom's stepmom), apple has to knowingly go through 2 near death experiences and one that basically works, only to have a someone she doesn't even love beyond accepting the fact that that he's destined for her to wake her up. one detail i've always liked about dragon games is how they went all out in the scene where apple is poisoned- the detail is visceral and horrifying, she is genuinely struggling, etc; and the reason i really liked that they animated it that way is it adds to the horror of apple's story, because the path to her happily ever after is horrible.

at the same time, the reason apple is willing to go through any of this is because she can afford to. i don't think(???) her parents die(someone pls feel free to correct me on this because im not actually sure) unlike ashlynn's (im only assuming because its explicitly mentioned for ashlynn but never talked about for apple). she isn't poisoned for long. she may not truly love daring, but he's a good enough guy, conventionally attractive, heroic, and a nice friend to her. and she goes through all this to be the most beloved person in the world, the ruler of like everyone, and get a life of absolute luxury. in the long run, she pays pretty small prices to get the best life ever. i think most of the fandom is in agreement when i say that she easily has like the best destiny on the show.

but from apple's perspective, her destiny isn't the best. she only knows her hardship, and she does have to go through a lot for her destiny— the point i mentioned earlier about how horrifying the animation is when she got poisoned is proof of that. its so telling that she cant understand why her friends would be hesitant of their destinies— especially her formerly royal friends like briar and ashlynn. briar and ashlynn similarily also get ultimately happy endings of a life of wealth and being beloved— but the price they pay is a lot greater than what apple goes through(not to mention ashlynn also has the extra motivation of being in a relationship with hunter). i feel this is especially obvious in thronecoming where apple tells briar that "we all have a part to play"— apple feels that she is also sacrificing a lot to uphold the system anyway and the way i see it is that she thinks its unfair that others are questioning their roles when it's the natural order of the world to make big sacrifices. but what she can't grasp is the others r willing to risk it all because their destiny is so tragic— like how raven tried to find everything she could about potential rebellion before she rebelled because if there was even a chance she didn't have to contractually obligate herself to a hellish life forever it was worth the risk(mostly emphasized in the books). apple upholds the system not only because of the way she has been lied and manipulated to, but also because she can afford to make sacrifices; raven rebels against the system because her sacrifice is sacrificing everything about her, including her wellbeing and life.

like shes so much more interesting than just being "the real villain of ever after high", she's another teenager a victim to the system— except she has more to gain than others so she simultaneously religously upholds the system. shes so interesting because of her sharp contrasts in character and i feel that reducing her like that takes away from the complexities of her character

obv i get why people don't like her character anyway, a character being complex doesn't mean people have to like said character. i'm definitely biased towards her because i do like her a lot but i get why people don't but idk man i feel like going in the direction of "she's the real problem!" takes away from the entire idea that this system is harmful to everyone, even those with privilege, and it also just makes her less interesting because part of why i like her and why she is such a compelling character is because she's so crazy in the sense that she is so kind and horrible at the same time— she's so hypocritical but her headspace makes sense at the same time and i find the duality she has to be really strong writing

if you made it all the way to the end thanks for reading my long ass yap session i wrote this instead of preparing for my lit essay i think i should get diagnosed-

also feel free to correct anything i said if i accidentally spread misinfo- theres always tiny details about this show that i get confused about every now and then and i always want to know more about this show

update i did my lit essay and unironically writing this helped me somehow so my lesson is that not doing my homework and yapping about ever after high is always the solution

[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS ACTUALLY WOULD WISH THAT ON THEIR WORST ENEMY

aka: request— the mercs receive an invitiation to their enemy’s funeral

scout: he wakes up one day and checks the mail. didn’t know why he thought to do that today, but it was a good thing. somethings in there for him. from his cousin, no less. weird. he opens it, and sees card stock saying “gather in remembrance for Matthew Hunter Crowsman” matthew…. matthew. that son of a bitch is dead? he is off to a phone. to any phone. begging snipes to take him to the payphone. uses the “i gotta call my ma” excuse because it always works on snipes. when he gets to a phone and makes the call, the second he hears that muffled “hello?” of his cousin through the static he is cackling. “who got the bastard? who ordered the hit??” “oh, you finally get that card i sent ya, jerry?” “received it, read it, laughed. who ordered the hit?” “ma got sick of his shit, man. asked me about a month back, at this point. they found him a couple weeks ago. construction dug the body up.” “you need to dig deeper graves. hey, i know a lady down here, she’s damn good at disposal—” he doesn’t end up going, but he’ll send flowers for the next of kin. matthew hunter crowsman has lived rent free in jeremy willis’ mind since the fourth grade when he killed the goldfish his dad got him at show and tell. it was the only thing he had of the man. well now the fuckers dead. dead by his family’s hands. and he didn’t even have to do it. it’s nice to have a big family sometimes.

soldier: soldier had one woman who could be considered his nemesis, and he found out she died through the obituaries. it was this crotchety old bitch he ran into at the grocery store. she took his favorite box of cereal, the last box of his favorite box of cereal in the only store in town, directly out of his cart. he was not invited to the wake and showed up anyway. looking nice and societally acceptable in his military blues, most family of the deceased asked his relation to the woman. he said he was an enemy. and he’s happy she’s dead. they end up getting him up there for the eulogy. he looks very nice behind a podium, even if he is ranting about a dead woman’s sticky fingers.

pyro: pyro doesn’t have enemies, they don’t know enough people to genuinely not like anyone. but pyro does love a funeral. just shows up to funerals to watch people cry. it’s like a touching film for them. the display of grief born from so much love, so much love never to be seen or felt again�� it brings a tear to their eyes. but when that nasty french cigarette addict dies they’re gonna be front row to slam dunk the body into a two foot hole. it’ll be a party for pyro at spy’s funeral.

demo: demo also doesn’t have many enemies. and the enemies he does have at this point are in different continents. and he’s pretty sure they don’t think about him as much as he thinks about them. but he does keep an eye on the obituaries in case he needs to update his shit list and remove those who he outlived. he won those, by the way. those are considered wins in his book. if he outlives you he wins. he’ll send flowers to the next of kin of the first ten on the list. superiority rule and all.

heavy: heavy doesn’t need to go to the funeral! he’s there when they die! he has not had a mortal nemesis he didn’t kill with his bare hands. it’s somewhat sad, as he ponders that more, but it’s the way his life turned out. and he’s okay with that much. he knows some people wish they could say that one day, if at all. he’ll pay a moment’s worth of respect. then he’s moving on. might even be in a bit of a better mood on the outside! it’s a good day when enemies die. it’s one less worry off his plate. he even moves lighter. quicker on his feet. yes, it’s always a good day when an enemy dies.

engineer: engie wants to state for the record that he was a kid. and what happened that day was legally ruled an accident. but engie was never a big kid. he was on the chubby side, but he was never big enough to really hold his own against anyone who would find themselves in the position of being a bully against a conagher kid. and engie’s always had issues with keeping his hands to himself. it took a lot of work to not grow up to be that man. but there was this one kid. james. he wouldn’t leave him alone, and always managed to catch him alone, or off guard. and one day, he just got sick of it. nobody was looking at what was going on on the road. dell just shoved him. he didn’t see the car. the kid died from his injuries a couple days later. and he did go to the funeral. he genuinely didn’t mean to do it. he liked the feeling of satisfaction he got when they told him he was dead though. that made him feel real good. so now he just makes sure the body can’t be found. easier that way for everyone involved.

medic: the doctor had an academic rival. insanely intelligent, incredibly ugly, and much nicer than the doctor. everyone loved this guy. loved him a lot more than they liked herbert. but this guy was a fraud. nobody’s able to prove it, even to this day, that the man is a fraud. there are no controversies, no conflicting scientific research, the man’s got a squeaky clean record; but medic knows in his heart of hearts and his soul of souls that the dude was and still is a fraud and a liar. it wasn’t like the guy was doing groundbreaking research here, either. who cares about cancer treatment? but he was so beloved. so the joy, the cathartic sigh of satisfaction he let out the day he read the obituaries and saw he died from a hit and run… he thanked whatever god was there. and he did go to the funeral. told the team they were going to be down a doctor and dipped. he arrived drunk in his best black. sat in the back and smoked a cigarette. didn’t make a noise. just watched all of these people mourn him. then spit on his grave as they carried it towards his resting place and left. he claims it was the happiest day of his life.

sniper: sniper doesn’t have enemies like that. nor would he go if that was something offered to him. you probably would’ve already lost him at the mere mention of the name. if you insist on telling him someone he doesn’t like is dead, he’s going to respond “oh. that’s... okay then—” and then he will exit the conversation. might chuckle to himself when he’s alone, maybe even shake his head, but after that he’s done. back to business. he does not think about the people he doesn’t like. that’s a waste of mental effort.

spy: spy does a weekly check of the obituaries just in case he sees a name he may recognize. sometimes he does; but he remembers he’s reading the obituaries. and he continues.

[winterstelltales]

daybreak [zayne x fem!reader]

summary : you're dawnbreaker this life

warnings : angst, mentions of deaths, little bit of blood, fingering, grammar errors

note : first time trying nsfw pls bear with me

his voice was like when you sat in front of a fireplace in the winter, it seeped under your skin, warming your very soul. and when he looked at you, you couldn’t look away. his eyes were the softest gold infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside. They were the forest floor and the golden sunbursts, somewhere you could rest and breathe.

you shouldn’t look away, not when every moment you get to look at him was transient, a fleeting moment that you knew could slip away at any time.

zayne.

he looks at you as if you’re his world. he smiles at you—calls your name in the gentlest voice that soothes the weight settled deep inside your heart.

he’s speaking, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you incredibly close to his chest. under the soft glow of moonlight, his face is calm.

“I thought about it and decided it’s better to just tell you,” his hand slowly moves up, cradling the side of your face.

his fingers rest under your chin and tips your face up to meet his gaze, “the moon is beautiful tonight,” and then he lowers his lips and kisses you so gently under the moonlight...no

no...no, that's not right.

zayne lowers his and kisses her, he’s kissing her, his lover, his hunter.

and you’re not her. you’ll never be her.

────────────

linkon falls years before you’re born.

in the spring that flowers bloomed and where new beginnings were promised, linkon city met’s it end in a storm of dust and debris. in the end all that was left was a canvas drenched in black ash and veiled in smoke.

you’re twelve when you ran away from the foster home. the blood of your foster mother coats your little hands, red streaks running down the side of your face. you didn't mean to kill her, not even when she lunged at you with the ink black tendrils growing inside her.

you just didn’t want to die, so when those disfigured limbs came twisting towards you, you stabbed her heart with the kitchen knife in your hand.

it was your first kill.

that was the same night you dreamed of her. she was you, wearing a uniform and fighting those creatures haunting your life.

your life was black and white, but then you’ll see him with her. he’s always smiling when he’s with her.

missing a person that didn’t even exist in your world seemed foolish, but you cling to that dream desperately, chasing it as though it were the only thread tethering you to sanity—the one thing that brings you comfort.

────────────

later at night you go to sleep in hope of waking up in his arms. sometimes you’re awake in her world, watching him through her eyes. and with your selfish heart you’re wishing, i don’t want to let this go.

so you cling desperately, hoping that she’ll sleep a little longer and then..your fingers hover just above his cheek, finger tingling to feel his skin. he looks so peaceful sleeping. you wonder how it feels to kiss him, to touch him.

just one time

you’re begging, and begging. but you can’t. it’s a heart wrenching ache, like something coiling around your heart, the tightness in your throat making it unbearably hard for you to breathe.

a silent sob escapes your lips, and you quickly cover your mouth as the tears roll down your cheeks.

why does it hurt so much?

why does loving him hurt so much?

your eyes are blurry, but you stare up at the familiar ceiling of your room. you close your eyes, trying to live in the moment that you just lost.

and for the very first time you realised that missing him has a sound. so every time your heart beats, you are thinking about him.

────────────

it’s hard this time, to breathe, but for a totally different reason. your entire body feels hot.

dreams that promise you his touch like this was rare, but when it is given, you’re too much of a selfish person to refuse.

you crave for his touch with a desperation that borders on madness, like a parched soul longing for rain in an endless desert.

the room is cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by a faint, dim light by the bedside.

you’re sitting in between his legs, legs spread and back pressed tightly against his chest. your whole body was wrapped in his arms.

warm, it’s a foreign feeling to you. even when you turned on the heater in your crappy apartment, it was always the bone chilling cold that accompanied you. but right now, in his arms, there’s a warmth that seeps into every part of you.

you can feel his hardness behind you. your heart is beating like a drum, threatening to spill out of your ribs. but zayne’s large hands hold your shoulders, fingers stroking your bare arms back and forth. he is whispering your name in your ears like a mantra, his breath so close, and every time he breathes, it plucked at your heartstrings.

this wasn’t yours to feel. but the desire that burns your reasons away like a prairie fire makes you turn your head to him. zayne looks into your eyes and leans in, kissing you softly.

his kiss tastes like the warm sun.

why is that a person like him, who’s shrouded in coldness, has so much warmth in him?

zayne’s leaving a string of tiny kisses down your neck and you can’t help but give in to the feeling. His tongue teases the sensitive back of your neck, pecking it lightly, biting.

you whine lightly, pressing yourself closer to his chest. his lips curve on the surface of your skin.

“sensitive?”

his voice sounds low, magnetic.

you’re afraid to speak, but the pleasure is fogging your mind.

“zayne..” you whisper softly and he hums, hands sliding from your shoulders to your perky breasts. his hands easily covers your entire breast and gently kneads the soft skin all the while leaving delicate and wet kisses down your shoulders.

amid your broken moans, his hands circle your erect nipples, thumb swiping over them, pinching and tugging them before rolling your nipples between his fingers, adding to your burning desire.

“beautiful,” zayne pants in your ear, his hand leaves your breast, trailing his feather light touch down to your stomach until it reaches where you wanted him the most.

you lean back weakly, not knowing what to do with this unknown desire.

you close your eyes when he trails his fingers down your dripping folds, you arch your back to him. zayne groans behind you and you grab his forearm, gripping it tightly,

“ah,” you bit your lips, moaning softly, “zayne.”

“you’re soaked, baby” his voice is thick and filled with lust whispers behind you, “relax.”

in the moment of daze, zayne gathers the wetness at your entrance and lathers it on your clit, rubbing it back and forth with his wet fingers. broken moans spill out of your lips as you buck into his hands. you can almost hear how hard his heart is beating behind you, his breath getting heavier and heavier.

you whimper when his fingers probe at your entrance. he spreads your closing legs apart with his knees before slowly inserting his finger inside you. you whimper at the sensation, your walls tightening around his finger.

It doesn’t take him long to add another, and by the time he adds in a third, you’re nothing but a whimpering mess, one hand gripping his arm for dear life while the other squeezes the blanket beside you.

His fingers thrusts in and out of you, curling them, bringing you closer and closer to your release until it hits you like a wave.

concealing your feelings for him was hard, but denying him was impossible.

but does he know the person in front of him was not the person he knew? the person he cherished and loved?

the you in the parallel time and space, the you who always walked silently in hell on earth, the you...with your hands covered in blood.

will he love you the same if he knew that?

you don’t feel the tears rolling down your cheek, not until his calloused fingertips wipe them away softly.

“i’m sorry,” your lower lips tremble as you lay on his chest, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t cry,” zayne’s voice sounds far away, but you could still feel his fleeting kiss on your forehead.

it’s cold again. and it’s only your sobs that fills the silence of your room. in your heart that beats for death, each beat was a jagged shard of glass.

your restraints for your feelings were as vapid as the winter snow was cold. but now you realise that falling in love with zayne was inevitable.

and now you know why loving him hurts so much.

[naughtyneganjdm]

A Bargain

Summary: You're called to watch over John Winchester when Dean and Sam need to run to get supplies. A simple task turns into an erotic one when you realize that John is possessed by Azazel and he's willing to give you with John what you always wanted.

Characters: John Winchester, Azazel & the reader (OC, second person). 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50846386

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, a moment of potential non-con, some dubious consent, blood play, no use of Y/N, etc.

Notes: This is pretty much pure smut. I wanted to do something Halloween related and I was inspired by @jdmorganz gif-set that was made of John Winchester as yellow eyes, so I ran with it. I hope you like it!

Lightening flashed from the night sky flooding the area around you. A big boom of thunder followed while you sat in your truck waiting outside the small cabin that Dean and Sam had brought John to after they had found him. It was pouring outside and you wondered if you were going to make your move. It had been a long time since you had seen John. It was after a job went wrong and John let you know how disappointed he was in you. He didn’t hold back and it had separated the two of you. As a hunter yourself, you had worked with Dean and John on countless occasions. You were closer to Dean’s age, but you had always found yourself attracted to John. Call it a crush, call it whatever you want, but that’s what made it hurt so much more when he laid into you for a simple mistake.

Tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, you knew that Dean had called you to specifically ask you for this favor so they could gather some things for their plans tonight. Dean stressed you were one of the only people that he could trust. And after some begging you agreed to it, but you just hadn’t made it there yet. Hell, you wished you hadn’t agreed to all of this.

Another flash of lightening filled the sky causing you to huff. It was now or never. Getting out of the truck, you weren’t quick to get to the small, broken-down cabin. It looked like something that should have been condemned. You understood why they were staying there, but you really contemplated on the walk up if you wanted to be there to begin with. By the time you knocked on the door and Dean opened the door, you knew there was no way out of this at this point.

Just watch John.

That was the only request. Keep him safe. And then Dean and Sam were gone leaving you alone in the cabin. Apparently, John was in the back bedroom sleeping. He had been found tortured and tied up is what they told you. You really should have just stayed in the front part of the cabin, but curiosity got the best of you.

Stepping in front of the door that was partially opened, you looked inside to see that John was laid out across the center of the bed on his back. Carefully pulling open the door, you stepped into the room and moved in beside the bed to stare down at him. Cussing out, one step caused the floorboards to squeak. It worried you that it would wake John, but it didn’t. You were thankful for that.

There was a chair at the side of the bed where you imagined one of the boys was sitting beside John to watch over him earlier. Lowering down into the chair, you watched the rhythmic motion of John’s chest rising and falling while he slept. Gazing over him made your chest hurt. Seeing John hurt always bothered you. You hated to see him get this way. It was part of what made working with him so hard for you. John didn’t care about what he did to himself, but you did. You never wanted John to die because you were selfish and cared about him so much. His death missions all in the name of Mary always broke you.

Extending your hand out, you brushed your fingers in over his bruised knuckles finding yourself caught up in the emotions that you had for John in the past. At first your touch was faint, but soon you palmed your hand in over the top of his.

“Trouble,” John’s raspy voice whispered causing you to jump when he spoke the name that he called you when you worked together in the past. His fingers linked with yours and you felt your heartbeat skipping in your chest. Licking his lips, John’s eyebrows furrowed and he sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing a favor for Dean. He wanted me to watch you while him and Sam gathered some supplies,” you answered, going to pull your hand away, but John’s fingers linked tighter with yours keeping you where you were. John’s long eyelashes fluttered and he grimaced when he pulled himself up into a seated position with his back pressed up against the headboard.

“Come here,” John urged you patting the side of the bed and you tipped your head to the side. Getting up from the chair, you did as he asked and lowered down to sit on the bed with him. Your lips parted when his rough fingertips caressed in over the side of your face. A gentle tender touch from John? That wasn’t normal. “Where have you been?”

“Off the grid,” you answered not wanting to show too much of a physical response to having him touch you like that. “I took some time to myself after our last job together.”

“Oh,” his lips parted, his eyebrow arching before nodding his head. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?” you wondered, but it was followed by his eyebrows bouncing up and he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he used his free hand to reach up to brush his thick hair back. “You’ve just been hard to find.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you breathed out, lowering your head away from him hearing his breathing change. “You made it pretty clear how you felt about me the last time we saw each other.”

“I may have overdone it,” John uttered, his body sliding forward on the bed toward yours. His index finger curled underneath your chin to get you to look up at him. With his hazel eyes locked on yours, you felt a breath catching in your throat. John had never looked at you like that before. “I made a mistake. The last thing I wanted was you running away.”

“Stop,” you lifted your hand to place it over his trying to urge it away from your face. “Don’t do that. I told you how I felt that night and you blew me off. You don’t care where I’ve been. Just go back to bed. I’ll watch over you until Sam and Dean get back. Then we can go back to pretending to not know one another.”

Gasping out, you felt John’s fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you to him. Forcefully his lips captured yours. A surprised whimper escaped your lips when he kissed you over and over again. At first you were tense against the caress, but with ease fell into the kiss. Your eyes came to a close as you kissed him back. After years of having feelings for John, this was something you always wanted, but he never gave in. No matter how many hints you gave to him or even after you told him how you felt.

“What are you doing?” you breathed against his lips when you managed to have the strength of pull back just enough. John’s grasp was still strong on the back of your neck, keeping you close enough to have the warmth of his breath over yours.

“What I should have done then,” he nibbled at your bottom lip, giving it a small tug with his teeth. His tongue swept over the inside of your bottom lip drawing you to cry out into his mouth. Meeting him this time in another kiss, you cherished the warmth of his lips over yours. Each kiss had you surrendering more to him, leaning in closer to him while his rough fingertips traced down over your arm. Chills flooded down your spine with his fingers sinking into your hair. “You’re so beautiful.”

“John,” you purred out his name feeling him crawling in over you, urging you back against the bed when he made his way over you. Bracing his weight, John lowered down, his tongue brushing between your lips. Returning the gesture, your hips arched up toward him when he settled himself between your thighs.

“I love you,” he breathed out against your lips, his mouth tampering off over your jawline and over the side of your neck. Palming up and over John’s back toward his neck helped pull you back and away from him. Your eyes locked on his seeing that his pupils were dilated and his lips parted while he breathed heavily. “What?”

“Who are you?” you tried pulling yourself out from beneath John feeling the weight of him getting heavier over you when he attempted to keep you there. “You’re not him.”

“I don’t understand,” he looked frustrated with you when you managed to muster up the strength to push him from over you onto his back. “I’m just telling you what you want to hear. Aren’t I?”

“John would never say that. He’s only loved one woman in his life. He stressed that to me the last time he talked to me,” you reminded him and it made John roll his eyes. Standing up from the bed, you stared down at John and saw his hazel eyes slowly lifting to meet yours. “There is no chance that he would even say that to appease me.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” John mumbled, his fingers outstretching, his dimples sinking in when he appealed to your emotions. “Come on Trouble. I know how you feel about me. And I feel for you too. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Of course this is what I wanted, but you’re not John. He wouldn’t touch me like that. He wouldn’t tell me that he loves me,” you stressed feeling your body trembling wondering who you had just made out with knowing that there was no chance in hell that it was John. “I’m calling the boys.”

“Stop,” he called out as you made your way for the door. Instead of listening, you kept for the door only to watch the door slam shut with a thud on its own. The lights flickered causing goosebumps to press in over your arms and you looked over your shoulder. “I said stop.”

Attempting to run for the door, you felt an invisible force throwing your body against the wall as John stood up from the bed. With a wince, you dropped your head back feeling the pressure over your body growing stronger.

“You don’t want it to be the romantic way, fine. I’ll do it the way that Johnny Boy fancies to do with you,” John’s head was down when he approached you. Slowly, his head raised and you felt the fear flood your veins when the yellow eyes met yours. “Here I am trying to be nice, but no, you want the asshole as he is.”

“It’s you,” you hissed out trying with all your might to get out of the hold that he had on you. “How did you do this?”

“It was easy actually,” the demon controlling John spoke with ease, his words coming out in a slur as he slowly approached you. “But yes. It’s me. The name is Azazel. But right now you can still refer to me as John.”

Once he was before you, his arm lowered down and his palm started to caress up over the inside of your thigh. Hissing out, you tried to pull at your body, but the force he had over you was just too strong. Once his palm centered in over between your thighs, you bit down on your bottom lip and winced, “Stop.”

“Why?” he stepped forward, his yellow eyes glowing amongst the minimal amount of light that was filtering into the room that you were in. The air was cold making the warmth that John’s body had near yours feel all the more welcoming, but you hated it considering this was John’s biggest enemy in control of his body. “John wants this you know. I’m letting that part of him control this. God, you should have felt the excitement fill him when I opened my eyes Trouble.”

“Don’t call me that,” you warned letting out a scoff when his palm slid up over the lengths of your abdomen, under your shirt that you were wearing to cup your breast in John’s large palm.

“We’re sharing this body Trouble. I’m just allowing the darkest parts of John to finally do what he’s wanted since he first saw you. Yeah, maybe I exaggerated on the love part, but he wants to fuck you raw,” he slurred nipping at your jawline and peppering kisses over your flesh. “I can feel it deep within me that he wants you. I can give him the strength to finally allow him to give into temptation. Even touching you like this has his cock hard.”

“You’re not him,” you turned your head away when he went to kiss you and Azazel smiled. The way he was talking was nothing like John would. His voice was deeper, almost wicked and his expression more amused.

“I am. He’s in here with me and he’s wanted this for so fucking long. To have those pretty little lips of yours wrapped around his cock. Having those innocent eyes looking up at him while he fucked your throat,” he slurred, his words coming out harsher than you pictured John would sound. “For so long he’s wanted to sink into that tight little pussy of yours. In fact, John is quite the pervert. On many occasions when the two of you were sharing a room, he would let you take a shower first and spy on you. And then after you were done, he would jerk off in the shower thinking about you. Afraid to act on his deepest desires because he didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I…” you breathed out thinking about what was being said knowing that in the past you had wondered if you had witnessed John spying on you several times while you were in the shower. You just had hoped it was wishful thinking and you could see the smirk that pressed in over John’s features. It was still the yellow eyes that chilled you right to the core. Looking down, you watched his fingers pulling at the button in your pants getting it open. After he managed to get the zipper apart, his hand dipped beneath the material and you felt the warmth of his hand palming in over your body. Closing your eyes, you sucked in a sharp breath and knew that you shouldn’t be feeling the things that you were. “Stop.”

“You don’t want this to stop,” he evoked, his long, slender fingers drawing back and forth over the length of your sex. Biting into your bottom lip, you forced your eyes open and connected your eyes with the yellow glow of the ones before you. “This is John’s meat suit after all and I’m only acting on the actions he wish he could do himself. Consider this my one gift for him. Which I think is pretty nice after all the hell he’s put me through.”

Clenching your fists, you felt his fingertips caressing over your clitoris in circular motions. Involuntarily a whimper fell from your throat and he smiled in response, “See, you like the way that this feels. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Please…” you gasped out when his fingers found their way between your thighs, a single finger pushing into your warmth, drawing slowly back and then forward. “It’s John that I want.”

“And this is what John wants too,” he insisted, an amused expression flooding in over his features when he pressed another finger into you. Allowing a buildup, he eventually had his fingers pumping away inside of you and you were crying out with the way that he was doing it. A forced ripped your shirt from your body and you tried to focus yourself, but it felt so good with his fingers touching you the way that they were. Stepping in closer to you, he pressed his forehead against yours, the warmth of his breath drawing chills over your skin. Every plunge of his fingers inside of you had your hips shaking against him wanting that friction. “You want to come so bad Trouble.”

Biting down on your bottom lip harder, you felt a rush flooding toward your head and you cried out. Right when it felt like you were about to come, the movement stopped and the fingers went stagnant inside of you, “You still want me to stop?”

Too embarrassed to answer with words, you shook your head and heard the entertained rumble of a laugh that followed. Once you gave him the answer, his fingers went back at a harder pace working to lead you up to your orgasm. Soft moans were falling from your throat when John’s fingers worked to get the bra from your body. His lips covered your breast as soon as he tugged the material off and tossed it aside. Circling his tongue around your nipple made you arch forward toward him when he suckled at the flesh. Your hips were rocking at the movements of his fingers while he had you pinned against the wall. You wanted to touch John, but you couldn’t because that invisible force had your wrists pressed against the wall firmly. Panting, you could feel your heart hammering inside of your chest when he went to the other breast to pamper it the way he had before. Pulling his head back, he noticed that your thighs were shaking and your moans grew louder when he brought you to your orgasm.

Trembling where he had you, you saw the yellow eyes enamored with you while he gazed over your body, “Let’s make a bargain.”

“No,” you shook your head hearing him laugh when you could barely mutter those words.

“I give you John. I told you this is something that he wants. Manipulate his mind enough so that he thinks that this is a moment just between the two of you. Finally allow him to have the gusto to give you what he’s always wanted,” he began, his smile expanding when he stepped back. Pulling the button-down shirt from his arms, he tossed it aside and then reached for the t-shirt that John was wearing to pull it from his body. It was an attempt to tease you. He knew how you felt for John and parading John’s body around like this was the best way for him to do it. Your throat went dry glancing over John’s beautiful body. Standing before you shirtless, he shrugged his shoulders. Gasping out, you felt your body being pulled from the wall only to be forced before him on your knees. Tipping his head to the side, he dragged his fingers out over the belt while you stared up at him with big eyes. Unhooking the belt had your lips parting and you felt like the room was spinning around you with how hot it was making you. “Then you owe me.”

“I won’t hurt John or the boys,” you declared with a shake of your head and a laugh followed.

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” he slurred, clicking his tongue against the top of his mouth. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. No. It’s much simpler than that. You just can’t say no when the time comes.”

Your lips parted, your throat going dry when he began to open John’s pants revealing the dark curls of hair that were showing just above the top of his boxers that he had on. Pushing his fingers into the waistband had the material tugging at John’s flesh revealing the thick base of John’s cock. It made your mouth water at the sight until the material pulled down completely causing John’s erection to bounce free from behind the prison of the cotton. John’s cock was thick with prominent veins over the shaft. The swollen tip was red with precum developing at the tip and it made your mouth water at the sight.

“John has this stored away and he’s such a fucking tight ass,” he muttered, curling his fingers around John’s length drawing attention to how big it was in comparison to his large palm wrapped around it. “You think he would enjoy himself a little bit.”

“Only if you leave and it’s fully John will I agree to this,” you noticed the way that the demon was gazing over John’s length as if he was admiring it in that moment. “I want him, not you.”

“Now, I can’t leave him completely. That’s a no-no, but I promise you it will be him. I just get a ticket to the show. I get to watch it without being in charge,” he assured you with an amused smirk, his fingers hooking into your hair drawing you close to John’s body. Dragging the swollen tip of John’s cock against your full, wet lips had a wetness flooding to your core. “That’s the best I can do. But it will be him,” he tapped his cock against your lips making you part them. Extending your tongue out slightly had him groaning out when you dragged it out across the tip collecting the taste of him. “What do you say?”

Grasping your jaw between his thumb and index finger had your eyes locked on his, “Give in to what you want beautiful.”

Everything inside of you wanted this and he knew that. It was just the fear of what he wanted from you that worried you. With a nod of your head, you gave into him hearing his faint, raspy laugh follow. Sweeping his thumb across your bottom lip, he gave you a nod and sighed, “Good girl. Too bad, I would have liked doing this for myself. But I guess John gets something nice for once.”

John’s eyes closed tightly, his fingers squeezing firmly around your jawline when he let out a long exhale. John’s eyes fluttered to an open and they were no longer the yellow, but his beautiful hazel eyes. Once John’s eyes focused on yours, something changed in his features and he sank his fingers into your hair. Lowering down, his lips hovered over yours teasing you with the idea of kissing you.

“You were a bad girl abandoning me Trouble,” John slurred, his bottom lip skimming over yours drawing you up further on your knees.

“John?” you muttered hearing him tsk and give you a small nod. “I guess you should punish me for it then.”

“You’re going to have to work hard for daddy to begin to forgive you,” John’s voice was back to normal, his eyebrows furrowing when he forcefully kissed you. Purring out against his flesh, you parted your lips and allowed his tongue to brush against yours. Sucking faintly at John’s tongue had his raspy moan vibrating against your lips and you purred when he pulled away. John pushed his fingers into his jeans to get them down to his ankles before caressing over his rigid manhood. “Come here baby girl…”

Leading you to his length, John curled his finger underneath your chin to bring you to the tip where you pressed faint kisses. Parting your lips, you took John into your mouth and swept your tongue around the ridges of the tip. It had him licking his lips and exhaling loudly, but he didn’t take his hazel eyes off of you. Taking him further into your mouth, you made sure to drag your tongue out against his flesh. John allowed you to bob your head over his length in slow drawn-out motions at first. With each motion, his fingers snaked tighter into your hair. Your hands were caressing up and over his hips, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your touch. Snaking your hands around him, you squeezed at his small bottom hearing him sigh while you grasped tightly to his flesh. There was a yearning in John’s eyes that drove you to want to please him as well as you could.

John started to control the movements of your head while you took his thick cock into your mouth again and again. Gagging, wet sounds filled the room with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat while he fucked your mouth. His toned hips rocked toward your mouth, his eyes hooked on you while he had his way with you.

“Enough,” John whispered, pulling you away from his throbbing length. A went line of saliva went from the tip to your full lips. Catching your breath, you felt John pulling you up to him like you weighed nothing. Falling in against his chest, you curled your fingers around his shoulders and dug your fingertips into his flesh. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you repeated what he asked of you and that wasn’t a lie. John licked his lips, curling his fingers around the back of your neck. Pushing you forward, he had you falling in against the bed face first. Clinging to the old comforter, you curled your fingers around the material and heard John getting to his knees behind you. Closing your eyes, you purred out when you felt him kissing over the back of your thighs. “John.”

“You have no idea how many nights I wanted to do this. With you cuddled up to me at night when we could only get one bed,” John reminded you of some of your cases where you ended up in motels where one bed was all you could get together. “I’d wake up with a hard on and just assumed you never wanted this. Now that I know, I’m going to make sure you never forget this.”

Closing your eyes, you cried out when John started going down on you. His tongue flicking out between your sensitive folds, dragging his tongue out over the flesh. Slurping faintly had you rocking your hips back toward him. Wincing, you felt him pulling back to spank firmly over your ass before squeezing at your fleshy bottom. Staying still, you enjoyed the way it felt with him testing the flesh. Another smack over your bottom had your hips bouncing forward, but he pulled you back to him. Pushing at the flesh helped reveal your hole to him and his tongue lapped at it before sucking. It had you squeezing harder at the comforter when his tongue pushed at your entrance. After a few firm strokes of his tongue, he pulled back with a wet sound, his fingers replacing his tongue while he pumped them inside of you, getting you prepared for him. His lips latched onto your clitoris, circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves. It had you pressing up on your toes, your cries growing louder. Wet sounds filled the tiny, decrepit room from the talent his mouth was unleashing on you.

“John,” you reached back with one of your hands managing to sink your fingers into his dark hair. John’s moan vibrated against your flesh. Your thighs started to tremble uncontrollably again and it made you want to crawl forward on the bed, but John’s strong grasp kept you where you were when he got you to another orgasm. When he was satisfied, he got up on his knees behind you on the bed. Digging his fingers into your flesh had you purring out when you looked over your shoulder to see him stroking over his erection. The sound of John spitting was heard and you felt the warmth of it sliding down over your bottom. “Please.”

“You’ve waited this long, you can hold on just a second longer,” John assured her, using the tip of his cock to collect his spit. Tracing it back and forth over the length of your sex had you shaking. He was teasing you and god was it working. You were wet. You were shivering. Your pussy was throbbing. “It’s going to hurt Trouble.”

“You’re worth it,” you assured him seeing the faint smirk tug at his bruised features. With a nod, John led the tip toward your entrance. His eyes were focused on what he was doing when he pushed his hips forward. Crying out, you knew that you couldn’t pull away when his girthy length started to fill you. The stretching feeling hurt at first. He wasn’t kidding. Biting harder at your lip, you reached around to wrap your fingers around his wrist, while the other braced yourself against the bed.

“You’ve got this. You’ve taken a lot worse Trouble. You can take daddy’s big, fat cock,” John coached you pushing forward until he filled you to the brim. It had you wincing and crying out at the sensation, but he stayed put allowing you to feel every inch of him in that moment. Another smack filled the air when he spanked at your bottom no doubt leaving a mark. “You feel so good. So tight.”

“Please,” you begged for movement, but he wasn’t giving it. Not yet. He wanted you to squirm on his cock and you were. It had your hips pulling forward, but when it did, he would pull you back to keep you put. “John, please fuck me. Please.”

“You got it baby,” John hushed you starting to pull his hips back in slow movements before plunging his hips forward. Every forward, wet smack had you mewling out grasping onto whatever you could. Every thrust grew in strength and speed. Before you knew it, he was pounding into you driving you forward with how hard his thrusts really were inside of you. But the addictive sensation of the swollen tip rubbing against your g-spot had the room spinning around you.

“John, I’m gonna come,” you squealed out, your hips forcing forward as the wet sound of you coming filled the small area and a shocked breath fell from John’s throat. Tracing his fingers over the length of your pussy had you shaking and he was back inside of you again before you could even catch your breath. “John.”

Whimpering out, you crawled forward, but so did he, not allowing you to pull from his cock. Pressing into your shoulders had you lowered down against the bed. Pressing your legs together, he crawled in over you with his knees at your sides. The strength his hands had on your hips was strong and it would certainly bruise with how hard he was holding onto your flesh.

“You squirt?” John slurred, his groin smacking up against your ass while he continued his thrusts inside of you. Having your legs closed like this tightened everything up for you and him allowing you to feel every ridge of him inside of you. “You lucky girl. Or maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Squeaks from the old bed were surrounding the two of you with the headframe smacking up against the wall. It made you wonder if this old bed could even handle this. A whine fell from your throat when John’s thumb circle your other hole. You cried out his name when he pushed forward, allowing his thumb to enter the tightness of it while he fucked you. It was a strange feeling, but you allowed it enjoying the way it felt. Right now it felt like John was making it known you were his in every way possible and you couldn’t complain. You wanted to be.

Wincing out, you felt John lowering in over you. His right arm wrapped around your shoulder, his nose burying against the side of your neck while his left arm braced against the bed. Repeatedly his hips smacked up against your bottom with his length filling you in powerful strokes.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, turning your head enough to meet his lips in a wet kiss. His moans vibrated against your lips when you felt your body tensing up again. “Please. I’m going to come again.”

“Squirt?” John rumbled against your lips and his hips were smacking up against your bottom showing his dominance and strength in his movements. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart hammered in your chest and John bit at your bottom lip. You were almost certain it broke the flesh, but you were too focused on your orgasm that he was chasing to care. A proud rumble fell from his throat when you came again, crawling up further toward the top of the bed when his big cock pulled from your body and rest over your bottom. Your body shook and you felt John caress over your shoulders trying to soothe you. “Good girl.”

“I want you to ride me honey, can you do that?” John questioned, pulling himself to the edge of the bed reaching for you to pull you with him. It didn’t really give you much of an option when he pulled you over him. Hooking your arms around his shoulders, you tried to brace yourself over his body knowing that you were still shaking. Reaching between the two of you, you grabbed a firm hold of John’s body and led it back into you. Having your eyes hooked on his felt so much more intimate than all that happened before. “Just like that.”

John praised you with every movement, his kisses over your jawline urging you on further. Your fingers sank into the curls at the bottom of his neck. His hair was wet, his hands clasped to your hips helping your movements over him.

“We should have done this from the start,” he slurred, his words vibrating against your lips. Squeezing over your bottom had him smacking over it again before pulling you in closer against his chest to keep that close contact. “We could have been soaking the sheets of all the motels we stayed at.”

“I didn’t know I could do that until you,” you reasoned with John, your body feeling weak while you tried to roll your hips over his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back. John braced his hands back against the bed while you had your way with him. “If I would have known your cock was so big, I would have been taking advantage from the start.”

“Stand up,” John ordered and you didn’t know if you could, but you got up and moved to your feet. Your legs were like Jell-O when John led you over toward the mirror that was cracked at the other side of the room. Forcing you to face the mirror, John moved in behind you. Grabbing your hips the way he needed, he adjusted his body and entered you standing. The smacking of his hips was almost immediate, his right hand reaching around you to circle his rough fingertips around your clitoris.

John rest his chin against your shoulder, his nose nuzzling against the side of your neck. Rasp moans filled your ears watching him smile against your flesh, “I want you to watch me fucking you…I want you to see what this is doing for both of us.”

“You’re so big,” you whined looking down to see his cock plunging into you again and again. Going balls deep with almost every thrust. Falling forward, your hand braced over the center of the mirror. A wince fell from your throat when you cut yourself. You should have cared more than you did. The moment was just so euphoric for you that you didn’t want it to stop. You were quickly approaching another orgasm, and you needed it so bad. “Please…please…”

“Yes ma’am,” John whispered keeping up with his movements, the wet plunges of his cock drawing you up on your tip toes. You never wanted his cock to leave you at this point with how good he was making you feel. It should have bothered you that he was still possessed by Azazel, but you didn’t care. In that moment at least. Crying out his name over and over again, you had John kissing you to silence some of your cries when the wet sound of you coming again filled the room when it covered the floor. John stayed still in the moment, his arm curling around your waist. You could barely stand up on your own. You were weak covered in a layer of sweat. John’s nose nuzzled against your flesh and he would pepper faint kisses over the side of your neck.

“My turn now,” John felt you reaching around to sink your fingers into his wet hair. Dragging his palm across your breasts, he teased his fingers over them and squeezed over them possessively. Leading you over toward the bed, he let you lay down in the middle of it. Crawling in over you, he stole kiss after kiss from your lips while he got situated. Flicking his tongue out over yours had you clinging to his sweaty body. Lining his cock up with your entrance, he rolled his hips up and entered you in a fluid movement. It had your head tipping back, your lips parting while he had his eyes hooked on yours. “Good girl. You’ve done so good.”

John’s thrusts were slow this time. It was more sensual, drawn out. Every drag back and push forward felt incredible. After all your orgasms, everything was so much more enhanced and he was loving every second of it. It had him smiling over you, his right hand caressing over the side of your face as if he was cherishing the moment. Stroking down over the sides of his body, you found yourself addicted to the sensation of the friction of his groin rubbing up against your clit. It felt phenomenal and you never wanted it to end.

Noticing that your hand was bleeding, John reached for it and kissed over your palm. It surprised you when his tongue collected the blood from your flesh, his eyes closing tightly when he did it. You wondered if that was John or Azazel, but you didn’t question it. Pulling John to you, your mouth claimed his and you tasted the metallic taste of your blood still lingering over his lips. It was shocking at first, but you kept kissing him. You didn’t want this to end.

“I’m going to fill you with my cum, are you okay with that?” John questioned, his lips hovering over yours when your palm squeezed in over his bottom enjoying the way it flexed beneath your grasp. “You want me to leave your pussy dripping with my cum? My balls are so full baby. I can feel em’ tightening up. I’m so close.”

“Please,” you whimpered, grasping harder at his ass, urging him closer to you so he knew that he could lose himself inside of you. John’s lips were over yours, his winces becoming closer together. His thrust were sloppier, his cock twitching inside of you and you used the power that you still had to thrust your hips up toward him. “You’re perfect John, in every way possible.”

“You really do love me, don’t you?” John slurred, his hazel eyes locked on yours when you felt your throat tensing up. With a nod, you didn’t know whether to be embarrassed about it or not when he nuzzled his nose in against yours. John’s moans grew louder, his forehead pressing against yours when you felt him aching. The first line of his cum spurt out inside of you. Clinging tightly to him, you loved the sensation it gave you. Just having his throbbing manhood twitching inside of you was euphoric. Addictive would be a good way to explain it. And it turned you on when he continued to pump you full of his cum. Along with his moans, you felt hotter than you ever had before. You met his thrusts wanting him deep inside of you when he came. Once he was done, he rolled his hips a few more times and lowered down in over you. Peppering kisses over your lips, John groaned out and looked down between you. An amused breath fell from his throat, his eyes seemingly in awe of the way some of his release escaped you dripping down his balls. “Amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose in against his. Stroking your fingers through his wet hair, you found yourself getting comfortable with him growing soft inside of you, but you didn’t care. From everything that happened, you found yourself drawn most to the closeness of the two of you after everything. “I’m sorry I forced my feelings on you.”

“I’ve always cared about you Trouble,” he stroked his fingers down over the side of your face. His words coming out in a whisper. “I was just so afraid of hurting you and for that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So much time was wasted with us.”

“I’m sorry too,” you hushed him, finding yourself in awe with John cuddling his head in against the side of your neck. After a few moments of cuddling up to him, you heard the disgusted groan follow and you felt a chill flood your body. When John’s body pulled back and away from you, you felt some of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. John’s hazel eyes were now yellow again when he walked around the small room to reach for his boxers. Your eyes still lingered on his semi-erect cock that bounced with the movements.

“It was sexy and hot up until the end there when you both had to get so fucking gushy on one another,” Azazel scoffed, pulling the material up and over John’s hips. Reaching for John’s jeans, he was pulling them up his hips before tossing your clothes to you to get dressed. “The boys are almost back and you need to get dressed. The last thing they need to see is their father in the aftermath from fucking their friend. Now don’t get any wild ideas about telling the boys what you know. That’s where our deal comes in.”

“What do you mean?” you pulled your body up further watching John move throughout the room.

“It means you leave this house once Sam and Dean return. You say nothing. You get in your truck, you don’t look back,” he ordered drawing you to let out a frustrated breath. “You disobey me and I kill them all. Do you understand?”

“Just like that?” you huffed and he nodded, his eyebrows bouncing up.

“Just like that,” he repeated with a firm nod of his head. “And if you love John, you will do it because you know I’m capable of snapping his neck like it’s nothing. Same with the boys. I gave you what you wanted, now it’s time to follow up on my request. Get dressed.”

“You destroyed my shirt,” you reminded him hearing the scoff that followed when he pushed through the drawers that were there. When he found something, he tossed it at you and you huffed loudly. Getting dressed, you felt awkward that your moment was stolen so quickly right out from under you with John by Azazel. Once you were dressed, you found yourself standing before John again when he pulled the shirt in over his arms. “You didn’t let me say goodbye.”

“I didn’t promise you a goodbye,” he reminded you with a shake of his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I promised you less than what you got. Enjoy what you have. Plus, I gave you something else that you are going to enjoy having in the future.”

“What does that mean?” you scoffed seeing the wicked smirk that followed when he shook his head. “Let me say goodbye.”

“No,” he snorted, the yellow eyes growing fiercer when he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Please,” you begged hearing his groan follow.

“I must feel sorry for you. Or maybe it’s my emotions getting mixed with John’s here, but fine,” he scowled, his head tipping to the side while he looked down at you. “This is your last request that I’m accepting. After that, you need to piss off.”

A wince fell from John’s throat when the yellow faded from his eyes and he looked down to see that you were dressed again. Stepping forward, you pressed your hand to the side of his face and saw the confusion in John’s eyes, “I need to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?” John frowned, his hands settling at your hips, his forehead pressing to yours. “You just came back into our lives. Now you’re going to be gone again so soon?”

“I hope to see you again soon,” you whispered finding your heart skipping a beat when John urged you back to meet his lips in a tender, passionate kiss. Maybe the I love you was something you would never get, but this tenderness was something you would never expect from John and you liked it. “I love you, John.”

“I know you do,” John whispered, his nose nuzzling against yours. Right when you cuddled your head up against his, you heard the gagging sound follow when Azazel pulled away, his yellow eyes showing again. He cringed and shook his body in disgust. “The romantics. You’re all gonna make me throw up with all the tenderness.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scoffed causing John’s head to bob about in an arrogant fashion.

“I know,” Azazel breathed out in a slur, his yellow eyes narrowing out at you. “I’m going to go lay down on that bed and if you truly love John, you will keep your mouth shut because the only chance he has at surviving is if you don’t say shit. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly what I asked of you. You know what I’m capable of.”

With a frown, you heard the sound of the door opening and watched Azazel lower his head back against the pillows that you originally found him sleeping against earlier. Dean walked into the room and you were almost frozen in contemplation. Maybe you lingered too long, but you kept up your end of the bargain. You believed Azazel when he told you that he would kill them.

Getting in the truck to leave was the hardest thing you had to do. Pretending nothing happened, lying to the boy’s faces and not knowing the fate of what would happen to the man you loved and cared for? It was devastating. But you didn’t want to be the thing that brought about the end to three people you cared greatly for. So you did the one thing you could do. You left with the final memory you shared with John lingering fresh in your mind.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor​ @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish​ @labyrinthofheartagrams​  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan​ @redmercysugar @caprithebunny​ @tuttifuckinfruitty​ @emoryhemsworth​ @a-girl-interupted @akumune​ @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx​  @insertneganhere​ @haleygreen23​ @xhannahbananax03​ @sanctuaryforthelost​ @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight​  @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (Pt 4)

Sylus x right hand man!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | ao3

Summary: After the events of the entire week, you had completely forgotten about the date Aries had set up with you.

The first thing you did the next day was check up on MC.

Still in your pajamas (with the addition of the signature hood and bandages), you cautiously knocked on her door, and when no answer came, you opened it slowly. She was still passed out on her bed, in the same position you put her in. You let her borrow some of your clothes(as if you needed every single pair of sleepwear, anyway); wouldn’t want her sleeping in dirty hunter’s gear, right?

You did her vitals just to see if she was still going to be alive by tomorrow. Your pointer and middle finger pressed against her wrist; from the heat of her skin along with her pulse, you knew that she was alive, albeit the pulse was weak. You leaned forward to listen to her breathing, your hand placing itself against her chest. At least she was breathing normally.

“Checking her vitals, I see.” Sylus’ voice interrupted your beautiful peace and quiet, and you refused to look at him. You stayed sitting down on the edge of MC’s bed, raising the blanket a bit more and brushing her hair away. 

A huff of breath was the only thing you heard before you sensed his presence behind you, and suddenly, his hand was on your shoulder. “(Nickname).” His voice was softer now, as if it were indirectly asking for an apology.

You sighed, turning your head to look at him, brows raised as you pursed your lips pettily. You didn’t say anything, and it ticked him off. “Giving me the silent treatment, huh? You wound me.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, shrugging his hand away before you began to walk. But the moment your hand felt the smoothness of the door, you yelped when you were reeled back towards Sylus by your waist, and then he was hugging you from behind. Tightly.

“Come on, (Nickname), don’t be like that,” he whispered in your ear, and for the second time this week, you shivered because of the close proximity of his deep voice, and you hated just how deep it was. “I did what I had to do.”

“You could’ve done it some other way.” Your voice was strained when you spoke. “You could’ve proved to her that you can’t die some other way.”

“Well, she wanted to kill me, (Nickname), what was I supposed to do—”

“She did not want to kill you,” you laughed out. You realized that your back was still pressed up against his chest, but you tried to pay it no mind. “She only thought that because she knows you’re Onichynus’ leader. I would’ve acted the same way.”

“And yet you didn’t. When you were in the same position as her. Twice.”

“Hey, it was an instinct the first time.”

“And the second?”

You stayed silent before opening the door, letting yourself slip away from Sylus’ grasp. “That was different.” You muttered. Muttered so low, you prayed your boss couldn’t hear you.

In the hallway, just when you were about to turn towards the kitchen, Sylus grabbed your wrist. “Wait.”

And so you did.

He pulled you closer towards him, making you twirl around so that he was no longer facing your back. Sylus gingerly removed the hood from your face, running a hand through your hair. “Let me make it up to you, hmm?”

And God, was it tempting.

Sylus’ eyes flickered to your lips. If he were to be honest, he loved seeing you in the mornings before you went to the Association. It was one of the only reasons why he would wake up the same time you do every now and then. You were always in your natural state, relaxed and not necessarily his right-hand man, but just… you.

He also loved how your lips parted the moment he gazed at them.

As for you, however, you despised his lips, even if the urge to glance at them back was too strong for you to refuse. You hated his defined cupid’s bow, and how the edges always curled into a small smirk no matter the situation. 

A hand snaked up your lower back, easing you closer to him, and you let it. Your entire body melted into his touch, and you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. You were supposed to be mad at him, and you two weren’t even a thing in the first place! How can he pull a stunt like this and expect you to not expect a relationship!?

Just when your lips were about to be slotted against his, you pushed him away, patting his chest as you smiled humorlessly. “Make me breakfast this time. I won’t tell you what I want, and if you get it right, maybe I’ll consider it.”

You didn’t notice the way Sylus’ facial features dropped slightly because you turned around too quickly. And honestly, he was glad you didn’t. “Plus, don’t just make it up to me. Apologize to MC, too.”

His laugh echoed in the halls. “You want me to… ‘make it up’ to MC, too?”

The implication made your stomach twist, but you were never going to tell Sylus that. “Do whatever you want.”

“Maybe I could do that…”

“Womanizer.”

Sylus’ boisterous laugh echoed in your mind this time. “I haven’t even done anything and you’re already calling me a womanizer.”

You sat down on one of the island’s stools in the kitchen, your hood now shrugged off as you fiddled in removing your bandages. Shrugging, your eyes never left your arms. “Well, you never know, huh? You were just about to kiss me a minute ago.”

You didn’t get a reply after that. Instead, you heard the shifting of plates and metalware. With scrunched up brows, you finally glanced up at what your boss was doing, only to be hit with a whiff of something sweet.

You tried not to give Sylus a reaction when he began making pancakes from scratch, measuring each dry ingredient with precision. You’d been craving pancakes for so long now, but you were always just so lazy to make them. And for the past couple days, you didn’t even have the chance to ask the chef to make them for you because of how demanding Sylus suddenly became.

Sylus couldn’t help but smirk when he saw your facade of indifference, your eyes fluttering about in order to not look at what he was making and smile. And after 30 minutes or so, when he placed a plate of a stack of pancakes in front of you, you heard your stomach growl. You prayed Sylus didn’t hear it.

Your eyes widened at the finished product before you crossed your arms, pursing your lips. “Jokes on you, Sylus, but I actually wanted—”

“Souffle pancakes?” Another plate scratched along the marble island, and to your surprise, he had baked those, too. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from you as your eyes lit up. “I could’ve sworn it’s just been 30 minutes. How did you make two kinds of pancakes in just 30 minutes?”

He seemed to revel in your indirect praise, though that facade of indifference transferred onto his face. Sylus merely tilted his head, lifting a brow. “So am I forgiven?”

“...”

“(Nickname).”

You huffed, picking up the fork that Sylus placed beside the plates. “Yes, I guess so. Sometimes, you’re just so insufferable.” As you spoke, you begrudgingly cut the souffle pancake, marveling at just how near-perfect it was. When did Sylus ever learn to cook this well?

His deep laugh vibrated throughout your body, making you feel… rather unwanted things. “We’re getting somewhere.” 

You finished the souffle tastefully, enjoying the comfortable silence you had with your boss. But it got you thinking; why was he going out of his way to make you feel better? Sure, he was affectionate before, and that stuff like this shouldn’t mean anything, but this somehow feels…different.

You also hated how your mind immediately answered your question of why it feels different. How long had it been since he’d seen most of you? 4… days? No, 5…?

Wait, 7 days ago you went on a date with Aries. When did he say the next date was…?

…Oh.

FUCK.

Your eyes widened when you finally remembered what day it was, and you hopped off of the island’s stool, not even able to finish the other patch of regular pancakes. You had to look presentable when you go to the Association today! Aries was going to pick you up from work.

As a string of curses came out of your mouth, amusing Sylus. He took your fork and began cutting a piece of his work with it. “And where are you going in a hurry? You don’t have to go to work for another hour.”

“I have a date that I totally forgot about.” You quickly replied, checking the time. You needed to put on makeup, do your hair—ugh, should you just put it up or should you let it out? Something basic or something elegant? And what clothes should you bring for the date? You didn’t want to be in your hunter’s uniform in a (most likely) fancy restaurant!

As you bolted out of the kitchen and into the long hallway to get fixed, Sylus lips twitched into a slight frown at your words. A date. With… ugh, what was his name again? See? He was already so irrelevant that Sylus had forgotten his name already!

…Aries. Yeah, no, his name was Aries.

‘What does she even see in him, anyway?’ Sylus thought to himself, stabbing the pancakes with the fork. ‘They barely know each other. I know that he’s not her type. And I’m such a better pick—’

Sylus’ train of thought snapped the moment he heard the plate crack in half, the poor pancakes being stabbed by the cracked porcelain. He clicked his tongue, gritting his jaw as he walked out of the room. He’ll have someone take care of that.

—--

“Okay, girl, I see you! Why are you dolled up so fancy today?” Tara walked with you towards the entrance the moment she spotted you, and you grinned sheepishly, glancing at the sleek jewelry on your hands. “I have a date again with Aries.”

“Your sugar daddy—”

“He is not my sugar daddy!” You exclaimed, realizing the entire lobby of the Association quieted down at your remark. Tara stifled a laugh which made you take a breath. You muttered an apology into the air before grabbing your friend’s arm, making her giggle. “He’s not my sugar daddy. Just… a really rich guy that… likes me.”

“Oh, okay, so those bracelets and rings and necklaces you showed me last time we called didn’t mean anything like that, then? Hey, is that a new—”

“Tara,” your voice was clipped, though there was a hint of playfulness in it. “One more word about it, and I’ll have your Bulgari bag returned.”

She gasped, before slapping your arm lightly as you two got into the elevator. “Please, no! I take care of that bag like it’s my baby! Ugh, it might as well be!”

Sugar daddy? Sylus snickered as he watched you through the eyes of Mephisto, who was perched up on one of the buildings’ rooftops. Your voice was so loud that his ears rang slightly due to Mephisto’s advanced hearing, but it only made him laugh. So you talk about him, then?

He faltered, remembering the bracelets and rings you snatched from your array of jewelry that Sylus made sure you had. They weren’t things he would think of getting you; everything was far too cheap in Cartier. Plus, rings from Sylus were seldom given to you. He believed that rings are the much more… intimate kind of jewelry.

No, he hadn’t given you those. Aries did. 

God, he’d known you for, what, just 2 weeks, and he’s already attempting to spoil you with “riches”? If Aries wanted to do that, he needed to step up his game. 

…Well, not like Sylus could care. 

Has MC woken up yet?

—--

“—And then, my boss, all of a sudden, begins acting all obsessed with this one colleague of mine, as if he hasn’t been feeling me the past 2 years I’ve worked for him.” Your head bobbed with every syllable as you talked, your food long forgotten the moment Aries asked how your day was going. “Then he has the audacity to work me twice as hard just because my colleague wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Selfish, I’m telling you!”

Aries had just nodded politely throughout your entire 15 minute long rant—and counting. He was glad you were finally opening up to him but… not in the way he expected.

“And, who is your boss, if you don’t mind me asking?” He took a sip of his wine, eyes still locked on yours. Apparently, you weren’t expecting that question from him, so you just blinked at your date in surprise, letting out a small scoff as if to say, as if I can tell you that. 

You noticed he was serious, though, and a small “ah” left your lips. You licked them from being dry from you talking too much, desperate to ignore how his gaze dropped to them. “I-I can’t tell you that. All I can tell you is that… he demands a lot. But I…” You hesitated, staring at your food, then at your wine. “He’s not actually that bad, you know? He’s kind… somewhat. But infuriating for the majority. But, he’s observant, too, and when I feel as if… everything is too much, he doesn’t hesitate to ask how I’ve been. Sometimes, I tell him he’s being too soft, especially for someone with our line of work, but I can tell that he doesn’t care.” You finally took a bite of your food, and almost groaned at how good it tasted. Though, it doesn’t rival anything Sylus’ chef makes. Or anything Sylus… makes—goddamnit.

Aries furrowed his brows, trying to rack his brain as to who your boss might be. “I don’t know anyone who sounds like your boss at the Association. You're in UNICORNS, right? …Isn’t your boss Jenna?”

You choked on your food, making Aries jump in his seat, hand out with a napkin and ready to save you. You shook your head politely, telling him you were okay before you washed down your throat with some wine. Mm, more acidic than you’d like, but it was okay. “Ah, I work two jobs to…” You puffed your cheeks out, trying to think of a lie. “Try and make ends meet; that’s how you saw me in that one auction. And,” you put a hand out when you saw Aries open his mouth, making you grin. “Don’t even try giving me money. You’re already giving me a lot as is.”

Aries burst into laughter, making you stifle laughter yourself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Damn, you knew just what I was about to say—”

“Yeah, duh, I saw you opening your mouth to offer cash!” You exclaimed before pouting your lips, deep in thought. “Though, on second thought, I could never say no to money—”

Mephisto’s head tilted sharply as his creator’s jaw audibly ticked from how hard he was grinding on his teeth. Sylus shouldn’t be doing this, watching you on your date. You told him not to. But… that was just one time. And with a predictable restaurant like this, it was practically begging to be found.

In all honesty, Sylus had half-expected to be smirking at awkwardness and reliance on alcohol to keep the conversation going. So, imagine his surprise when he saw you two… bonding. Somehow, he couldn’t make out the initial part of the date for some reason where it was just you talking and Aries nodding, but he was able to the moment the both of you started laughing together.

You. And Aries, a man you just met 2 weeks ago, were laughing like old friends.

Now, Sylus is a very straightforward man with his emotions, especially since he has no shame in identifying and expressing them. He knew that he was… jealous, of all things, now, but he wasn’t quite sure why. You were… He heard himself scoff. You were something, to say the least. Determined, hard-headed, stubborn, intelligent yet… lacking so much common sense. He couldn’t blame you, though; with how much information was constantly running through your brain because of your wrist, being a ditz sometimes was more than understandable.

When you would actually do your job, God, it amuses him more than it should. To see you flowing through tasks that need to be done within the day, reports you need to give him ASAP, all the while you had that little furrow of your brows and fire in your eyes… 

It was a treat.

Sylus’ thoughts snapped back into reality when he heard you and Aries laugh together once more, making him seethe. He should really stop daydreaming; it’s bad for what he does, and he might end up risking more than he bargained for.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, eyes piercing your skin as you talked. Throughout the years you worked for Sylus, you knew how to act as if everything was perfectly normal even if they felt off. So, as Aries was talking about some new firearms, your eyes flitted towards the forever night of the N109 Zone, to a tall building that covered some of the moonlight, to a little crow that you knew all too well.

You snickered. Of course Sylus was here; this place was honestly such a predictable pick.

“(Name)?” Aries’ voice caught your attention and made you snap back into reality. His eyes tried to look for what you were looking at a couple seconds ago before giving up. “Is there something there?”

“...” You stayed silent for a split second, wondering if you should finally tell him about your weird relationship with Sylus, both as your boss and as the weird in between of a boss and a lover.

“No, sorry. I just really like the moon.” You instead said, smiling at your date reassuringly in order to not draw any unwanted attention to the red flashing eye of Mephisto far away. 

Aries just stared at you, a soft smile on his lips, before glancing at yours for a split second. “Yeah, the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

—--

Sylus almost fucking threw his built-in desk across the room.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Is this guy serious? If he wanted to profess his love for you, then he should’ve made it grand! Spent millions and millions for a consecutive amount of days until the last day, where you two would stay in a luxurious restaurant on the balcony of a building that barely anyone can get to. A restaurant that’s famous for proposals.

Sylus picked up his phone and began to call you, and a small twinge of smugness and pride spread throughout him when you immediately picked up. 

“What the fuck, Sylus!? Didn’t I say I was on a date?” You scolded him through the phone, your voice a hushed whisper. He couldn’t hear the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant you were at, so he assumed you excused yourself. Well, not like he really cared.

“I’m picking you up.” He declared, putting his phone on speaker to fix his outfit a bit. 

“WHAT!? Are you insane!? We haven’t even gotten dessert—”

“There’s dessert at home, (Nickname). You have everything in the world at home and yet you choose to settle for less.”

“...” The line was silent for a while before he heard you sigh. “Whatever. Let me just wrap this up. I’ll see you later?”

“I’m giving you 5 minutes, and you’ll see me later.”

—--

You put your phone down before glancing at Aries, who was idling swirling his wine. You felt bad for leaving the date so early in the night, but it’s not like you had any real romantic feelings for this man. He felt easy to talk to, yet at the same time you will never forget how uneasy his presence made you feel the first time you met him. 

You walked towards him with an apologetic smile on your face. “I’m so sorry, Aries, but I have to go. My boss is calling me.”

His face dropped at your words before he nodded in understanding, his eyes glancing down at his wine once more. Aries chugged down the entire glass, leaving you surprised, before standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Listen, I know things haven’t been necessarily smooth between us two, but I really want us to work. I’ve noticed how your mind easily slips away to somewhere else during our dates. Even with that, will you still give me a chance?”

Your eyes widened at his words, lips parted in shock. He glanced at them and instinctively licked his. Honestly, you couldn’t say no to that, especially with how polite he was about it. You smiled softly, nodding. “Of course, I can. It’s not like I never said I wouldn’t, right?”

Aries grinned at your words before taking in a deep inhale. “Can I kiss you?”

That was where you hesitated for the slightest bit. Aries didn’t catch it, but you felt your heart sink when you realized that you were still hesitating. You sucked it up, though, before matching his smile. Cupping his cheek, you brought him closer, lips brushing against his. It was a chaste kiss, but it did feel longer than it was supposed to be.

It was pleasant for once, having someone want you again. Sylus used to make you feel that way, but the moment MC came in, you were put back in your place. It was kind of foolish to think that Sylus, out of all people, would be the one to give you the yearning you always craved for since he was just your boss.

Yes, just your boss—that’s what he was. You have to keep reminding yourself that.

Sylus opened the door to the restaurant, not even having to flip the entire place down in order to find you, since you and your date were the only ones standing up and… 

His face tensed when he watched you kissing Aries, hands cupping his cheeks. Subconsciously, a finger placed itself on his own lips, remembering what yours felt like. It was a memory that plagued his dreams every time he so much as attempted to sleep. 

Shaking his head, Sylus crossed his arms, his evol sneaking up to your back to bring your attention to him. You opened your eyes and pulled away from your date, frozen in your spot when you noticed your boss standing right there.

“I really have to go now,” you whispered to Aries, who nodded. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’ll see you next week?”

You nodded before walking towards your boss, and when your back now turned from Aries, you shot Sylus a warning glare, basically telling him to keep cover since you haven’t even told Aries who your boss was.

Alas, all of that was in vain; Sylus didn’t want to budge, and Aries did in fact turn around to watch you go. A small squeak from him made you turn around to see his reaction. His eyes darted from you to Sylus, and you just scrunched your nose apologetically.

Sylus’ lips curled up slightly when he realized that you never told just who you worked for during the night. With a satisfied and smug grin on his face, you walked with him to his motorcycle, not even sparing another glance at your date.

—--

“Sir, I don’t think she’s falling for me.”

“What makes you say that? Didn’t you two kiss? Twice?”

“...Well, yes, but both times felt like pity kisses, and I don’t even remember the first time…”

“Then make her like you, dammit! I don’t care how you do it, just do it. I didn’t raise you for nothing.”

“Yes, sir. And wait, before you leave—”

“What, boy?”

“...You never told me that she worked for the leader of Onichynus.”

“It seemed like you didn’t need to know, and the plan has worked somewhat with you thinking he was just his whore, right?”

“...Right.”

@readerxyourbabe here you go babes :))

[studiogrimm810]

Hello Grimm, how are you? :)

What are your thoughts on Dean or Sam with a reader who gets cranky or moody when they get woken up when they haven't gotten enough sleep. Cause let's be honest how are they not with how little sleep they be getting.

(I dont know about you, but me personally, I can get so moody when someone just wakes me up when I have had little sleep)

hello, anon, im sleepy but still obsessed w spn heheh :)

i am SUCH a drama queen when it comes to sleep fr, if i get less than 9 hours i feel like hell (got 5 last night and want to die /j) if i was on the road constantly like sam and dean i think i would actually loose my mind. not to delve much but i’ve recently squeezed a trip to my home state in a weekend and still worked full weeks before and after. the drive was long and we woke up too early to make it to places and im so desperate for like 3 days of sleep. okay,, too much personal rambling- to the winchesters now!!

dean- i think most of the time, dean finds it endearing and even a little fun to mess with you. he loves riling you up and getting under your skin. he knows what its like to go on little sleep and he considers himself lucky that he doesn’t get a short fuse like you do, but he still can’t pocket the matches and kerosene he’s got when you wake up unceremoniously

however, he can tell when you’re really not in the mood for his comments and bitchiness. he knows you, he spends most of his free time studying you so that that statement stays true, so he knows when to pick and choose his battles

the rude awakenings that lead you to not only anger but dreadful aches of any given negative emotion can really ruin the day for you but dean is quick to handle anything he needs to to give you your space. he takes control of the situation so that all you have to do is be present and use your two legs to follow him. he trusts you, and knows you’re a damn good hunter even if your lack of sleep eats at you. but he still worries as he notices bags under your eyes when you’re taking down a vamp or pumping iron through a ghost

after the necessary tasks are completed, he leads you back to the Impala where he will play his music quietly and tuck you under the comforter he leaves in the back seat just for you. he even dips down his rearview to keep a close eye on you as you sleep… and maybe to make sure he can go back to bugging you when you wake back up

sam- if anyone understands crippling insomnia, its him. even if you don’t specifically suffer from such, he still understands the toll lack of sleep can do to a person. it’s quite unfortunate too that, as a hunter, you need so much sleep. and he knows him and his brother are lucky to be so functional on lack of shut-eye so he never comments on your excessive slumber

he knows your coffee or tea orders by heart, and also knows how they change depending on the weather and how much you may or may not have drank last night. he knows what breakfast foods you can stomach first thing and he knows how to approach you each time you’re woken up by something other than your internal clock

he likes to brush your hair back, running his nails from your temple back to your crown- but he’s careful to not get tangled in knots- or he’ll tickle his fingers down your back, using his nails here and there or lightly massaging the kinks in your shoulders

after draining hunts, he lies in the back seat with you, letting you lay in his lap or sometimes he’ll position himself so that you can be flush with his chest. he hates seeing you so zombie-like when you’ve gotten just a handful of hours to span over days of work, so he does whatever he can to coax you back into a peaceful sleep

despite his best efforts, you’re still grumpy and still have an attitude, but he considers that if you’re comfortable enough to sass him and bicker like you do in the first half hour of being awake, then he’s done his job in making himself a safe space for you

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Loss

Sequel to The Hunter, which I managed to cook up somehow despite being down with a fever.

Warning - angst without comfort. There is no comfort to be found here, maybe the upcoming cuddle fic will fill that gaping void. ok but on a serious note: Mention of suicidal thoughts.

For those of you falling in the void, I want to reach out my hand as someone who has fallen before and got pulled somewhat out by an interesting entourage of people whom I now call friends.

Summary: You and Bucky part ways after the gala, never to turn back.

It's weird, waking up alone in bed. You've gotten so used to the presence of another body lying next to you, one muscled flesh arm and one metal arm wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You've learned to sleep only on one side of the bed lest you get kicked off, and the habit continues even after he's gone. The silence of the morning and the coldness of the sheets on the other side of the bed remind you of what happened last night.

A chill pricks your skin as memories flash despite the pounding in your head. If Bucky was here, you'd see a glass of water next to some aspirin — never ibuprofen, you didn't like having to pronounce it so Bucky figured you wouldn't want to consume some, even if it was for a silly reason —, feel a warm hand cupping your cheek followed by a forehead kiss. This morning you wake up cold, and all alone.

You remember leaving the party early after the exchange and using your title, which is still viable after beating some people up, you rented a room for yourself and crashed on the bed. That's about all that happened. A heavy weight pressing down on your chest, you're not sure how to feel about last night. Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong. Him being right means you have to apologise, and the thought makes you sick. Your stomach churns and you rush to the toilet, vomiting all the contents of said stomach out.

Panting, you stay kneeling by the toilet bowl, head hung. You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to stop the tears but they fall anyways. You'd already lost him once before, when Thanos snapped him away, and you'd fought tooth and nail after some convincing from Natasha as well as Steve to bring him back. The second time it's your fault, and that knowledge makes the pain even worse.

You weep, hating the sounds that fall from your lips and slump against the toilet bowl. It hurts, everything hurts. Your eyes water, your throat is burning, your heart is shattered and you want it all to end. It would be easy, and nobody would miss you.

Not anymore.

A knock sounds on your door and you quickly clean yourself up, flushing the toilet and wrapping a towel around your head to hide your ugly mess of a face as much as you can. Grabbing the pistol hidden under your pillow, you move to the door, hand resting on the handle.

3, 2, 1, now.

The door opens with a click and your powers activate, warning you of no danger. You exhale softly but keep a firm grip on your gun lest things go wrong. Letting down your guard in Madripoor is the same as asking to be killed, and you're not about to die to some random goon.

"Hunter! It really is you! We've been awaiting your return ever since rumour spread that you appeared at Selby's bar!"

You eye the man in front of you warily, then it clicks.

A piece of your past, back when you had first escaped Hydra and fled to Madripoor. You'd taken on whatever jobs were available, and that quickly caught the eye of many leaders who tried to recruit you but you'd turned them all down, wanting to remain alone. Then a job offer came in to eliminate a dangerous group, so you'd taken it without a second thought but the so-called 'dangerous' group was made up of scared children and elderly, unable to fend for themselves.

You couldn't do it. You couldn't pull the trigger for some reason. Maybe it was your conscience slowly returning after years of conditioning under Hydra, maybe it was the fact that if you disobeyed, you could kill the one who gave the orders this time around. No more brainwashing, no more conditioning, no more punishments for failure. You were on your own, and free.

But it was most probably the fear in their eyes that made you see a reflection of yourself in them.

So you made a choice, and it felt good to. You spared them, guided them secretly to where you stayed and told them they could stay there. You would also go after the one who put a bounty on their heads, and bring his head back as proof that they no longer needed to live in fear. They'd agreed, and offered to help scavenge for food, collect intel, but most importantly, expand your network in Madripoor — the key to survival in this rotten city. You'd been more than happy to accept the offer, and it had benefitted everyone. It wasn't long until you were the name whispered among the streets, a name feared in the shadows.

The Hunter.

It felt nice, to be needed, to be depended upon, to be able to depend upon. Sure, it took a while, with you double checking every piece of intel and food before consuming it, but after some months you'd let your guard down around them. The group came to be known as The Pack, and it grew to include more frightened citizens of Madripoor who had no where else to go.

Then the fateful mission came. You knew Shield had eyes on the prize as well, but it was too good a challenge for you to pass up. Besides, you wanted to see what the fabled Shield was capable of. So you'd taken the bounty, reassuring The Pack that you'd be back, that you'd stay safe, but it was a lie. You'd been captured, made into a Shield agent, unknowingly worked for Hydra who had infiltrated Shield, escaped when you found out, and the rest is history. You never thought you'd see The Pack again, until now.

"Casimir." The man before you was a scrawny teenager the last time you'd laid eyes on him, but his mannerisms and scent remain unchanged. He's still a cautious yet cheerful person, and it warms your heart to see that Madripoor hasn't broken him.

He beams, obviously delighted to see you haven't forgotten him, but how could you? He'd fought you the first time you'd met him, believing you to be a threat, and you admired his spirit. You'd never considered fighting back against Hydra until the day you saw Bucky lying on the cold hard metal floor, covered in blood, bruises and various liquids. Punished for absolutely no reason, tortured because they could.

The memory stings and you quickly push it away. "Is there something you need?"

"Will you return to The Pack? We've missed you, thought you were dead too. We thought Shield had executed you." His voice is laced with sorrow and you smell a hint of sadness, but there's also hope. Hope that you will return, hope that you will take your place as the leader of The Pack once more.

"I —" You're not sure. You want time to sort things out, get rid of the loose threads that are your feelings for Bucky. Casimir's eyes gleam with hope, reminding you of the time when Bucky had looked to you with such eyes, lips curved into the biggest smile he could possible muster. The delight in his ice blue eyes when you asked him out for the first time, the way he had gripped your hand tightly, as if you would disappear at any moment.

"Give me three days." You make up your mind. "If I don't show up by then, assume I will never return."

Casimir's face falls for a split second but quickly brightens again. "The Pack will be excited to see you again!"

With that, he leaves and you lock the door, slumping against it. The towel come apart, falling onto your lap and your vision blurs with tears once more. You want to take it all back, you really do, but something's stopping you from doing so. There's this coldness that has settled within your chest, and it's slowly freezing the rest of you. Your hands feel numb, and soon your feet do too.

No more. No more crying, no more weakness. You are a lone wolf, you've always been. The Hunter needs no one — no pack, no friends. The only thing you need is yourself, your instincts, and your weapons.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you drink the bottle of water on the table and begin to pack. The Pack knows where you live, and you have to move. You have to move to somewhere where they will never find you, somewhere in the deepest depths of Madripoor. Maybe a cage fighting area just like the previous time you lost Bucky. The Pack hates those kinds of places, it bring back traumatic memories.

Yeah, that sounds good. You're great at fighting, everyone's always told you so. You were born and bred to fight, to kill, to destroy, and that's the only thing you can do. So that's what you'll do. You'll fight for your life each and every day, just like back in Hydra, and what happens next? You don't know. You haven't thought that far ahead and don't care to do so.

Slinging a backpack over your shoulder, you slip out of the apartment through the window, thankful to your last night self that you'd gotten a room on the second floor. You're not sure who you are anymore, the Hunter is dead, killed by whoever you are now. You remember the name Aeron, the Welsh name of the god of battle and slaughter in Celtic mythology from the mythology book you've left at Bucky's place.

Aeron. Maybe. Nameless sounds good too. No One sounds weird.

Sighing, you push those thoughts away. You can decide on a moniker if you want to, or let the crowd decide for you. Maybe that's a better option, who knows how creative those minds can get. Leaping from the window, you vanish into the shadows, a skill honed for years and head to no where. You can survive Madripoor, you've done it once you can do it again. Besides, if Death chooses to claim you right this instance, you're not going to fight it. You've lost everything, there's no point clinging onto this wretched life. So you walk on, glancing at the lost and broken, observing the rich and drunk, and leave the Hunter behind.

~

Bucky watches from the jet window as the plane takes off, leaving Madripoor behind. No, it's not just Madripoor that's being left behind, you're being left behind too. He's torn, distracted, wondering if he should have convinced you to stay somehow.

"Hey Buck?" Sam leans closer. "You alright?"

He laughs hollowly. "I just broke up. I'm perfectly fine."

Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the issue further. Bucky will talk when he's ready, Sam is sure of it. In the mean time, he'll just have to keep a closer watch on his best friend.

Bucky watches as Madripoor grows smaller and smaller until it fades from view, wondering where you are right now, wondering if you're safe. He shakes those thoughts out of his head, reminding himself that the two of you have broken up and there's no going back. You didn't seem like you wanted to mend the relationship anyways.

It's fine, he's already lost so much, what is one more person?

[mcrdvcks]

okay okay abigal just listen, what about au!star wars with logan?????!!!!!! He is more like Rebel, Jedi, Sith or Mandalorian? what u think?????

okay, i went a little bit off-script, but hopefully this is okay i wrote it in like 30 minutes! <3

In my opinion, Logan would be a rebel. He’s basically Han Solo’s twin. He’s the hero that was only there for the money but stayed (for a pretty girl).

Let’s be real, no matter how much Logan tries to argue that he’s “not a hero” he does the opposite, proving he is a hero.

He doesn’t have a copilot, he’s a loner who smuggles—has probably run into Han before.

For this, let’s just say you and Leia are close. Maybe you grew up together on Alderann. So, you met Han, Chewie, and Luke when they rescued you from the Death Star.

After Luke blew up the Death Star, you and Leia are trying to arrange safe passage for a small group of refugees fleeing an occupied system. Your usual contact bails. Logan shows up in his beat-up freighter—smoking, scowling, and swearing under his breath as he looks you over.

“I’m not part of your damn Rebellion,” he mutters. “Just here for the credits.”

But something shifts when you glare at him and reply, “Then take your money and go. We’ll find someone with a soul.”

He doesn’t leave.

Him and Han don’t get along very well, again, they’re practically the same person. Han taunts and teases Leia, Logan you.

Luke gets tired of the arguing during meal time, hearing Han arguing with Leia, and Logan arguing with you makes him want to willingly spend time with Threepio.

Missions are the worst—the 5 of you stuck in a ship with Artoo and Threepio is always a disaster.

The worst part? There are only 4 seats in the cockpit, and Han and Chewie are always in the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. That means you, Luke, Leia, and Logan have to argue about who gets the two seats.

You and Leia argue you both should get the seats since you’re the only women. Luke usually shrinks and offers to stand. Logan? Crosses his arms, grunts, and refuses to budge. “You got legs, sweetheart. Use ‘em.”

You threaten to shove him out the airlock at least once a day. He starts bringing random crap into the cockpit just to take up space—like his boots, a cigar, or his coat—claiming “this seat’s taken.” Leia rolls her eyes. You plot his slow, dramatic death.

But then on longer flights, when you fall asleep in the back, you always wake up with his coat draped over you. He grunts and claims “Chewie did it.”

He says he’s only in it for the money, but he’s always volunteering for the dangerous missions.

Han tries to call him out: “You’re worse than me, old man.” Logan replies, “Least I don’t run when things get messy.”

Logan has zero patience for droids. Artoo shocks him at least twice.

He teaches you how to fight dirty. “No such thing as a fair fight in a war, darlin’.”

When someone questions Leia’s leadership, Logan is the first one to growl, “you got a problem with a woman in charge?”

He never salutes, never calls anyone “sir,” and never follows protocol—Luke finds it endlessly stressful.

The only person he half-respects is Chewbacca. They grunt at each other across the ship like war veterans.

You’re the only one who can get him to actually do anything without arguing first—but only if you call him out in front of everyone.

He has his own sleeping bunk but is rarely in it—he falls asleep in cargo holds, under tables, or sitting upright in the cockpit.

Hates flying. Claims he likes his feet on solid ground. Will gripe the entire time during takeoff.

Has a scar across his knuckles from punching a stormtrooper helmet clean off—didn’t even flinch.

Calls the Force “hocus pocus” and Jedi “laser stick weirdos”—until he sees Luke nearly die and then helps carry him back, muttering “kid’s got guts.”

Has killed at least three bounty hunters who came looking for him—on the same day.

Refuses to wear a Rebel uniform. Only ever wears his beat-up leather jacket, black shirt, and whatever boots he didn’t lose in the last skirmish.

You’re the only one allowed to patch him up. If anyone else even tries, he growls and walks off still bleeding.

One time a rookie pilot asked if he was your bodyguard. He cracked his neck and said, “Nah. She’s mine to protect.”

When you’re cold on outer rim nights, he doesn’t offer his jacket. He just mutters, “Get over here,” and opens his arms. You roll your eyes. But you always go.

If a mission goes wrong and you’re separated, Logan always finds you. “How?” you ask once. “I can smell you. You use too much soap.”

Hates being thanked. “Don’t get soft on me, sweetheart. Makes me itchy.”

The first time you kissed, it was after an explosion. You were yelling at him for being reckless. He grabbed your face and kissed you mid-rant. “Shut up before I start liking your voice too much,” he growled.

Refuses to use comms unless absolutely necessary. When he does use them, it’s to say something like, “I’m out. Five bodies. You good, sweetheart?”

Keeps a holopicture of you—one Han took while you were laughing and flipping Logan off. He pretends it’s not in his locker, but Chewie saw.

You once caught him fixing something on your blaster in secret. He denied it. “Must’ve been the maintenance droids.” “It was set to stun, Logan.” “Yeah. Can’t have that.”

Has a special, terrifying growl reserved only for when someone tries to flirt with you. One poor rebel tech is still recovering from the death glare Logan gave him for calling you “gorgeous.”

[robin-evry]

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 🐥

The Divine Foresight, one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance, leads the Cloud Knights of the Xianzhou Luofu. A student of the Luofu's previous Sword Champion, though not known for his martial prowess.

I've been In love with this man for so long

( English is not my first language )

The dozing general, Jing yuan!reader find themselves in Starsnatch Cliff when they wake up. When they wake up, they pull out their cell phone and no signal. They managed to look from the far and find a city nearby this is their only clue to know where they are.

When they were about to reach the city a large dragon passed them, how interesting. They continue on their walk to mondstat.

On their walk, they ask for some adventures and soon they learn they are on a planet called teyvat and it has 7 nations ruled by their own god or archon.

When they make it towards the door, the guards ask what their business is in mondstat, and they reply with "a person looking for refunge". And soon they were let in

When they pass by the gates, a burst of wind blows them, the Mondstat architect, and he sees a giant of the archon of the nation in the middle of it.

They grew to be accommodated by this nation, taking a seat at good hunters enjoying a meal of sweet madame, until the same dragon that passed them. Created a tornado started to form all around the city and one started to move high speed towards them. Without making a swear. Jing yuan!reader use their palm to disperse the tornado.

Some civilians were about to swipe them towards the tornado, suddenly someone dragged them to the side in lightning speed before they could be swiped by the tornado, this stranger emits sparks of yellow lightning and soon started to save all of the civilians.

Jing yuan!reader were about to summon lightning lord, suddenly a gust of wind passed them and whispered into their ear.

??? : please don't hurt my friend

Jing yuan!reader : and care for you to tell me why I shouldn't, your friend is destroying this beautiful city as well hurting the civilians

??? : I'll explain everything, just please spare him, at night I'll reveal the truth.

??? : meet me at the great tree in windrise, I'll explain everything

"the gust of wind soon passes them"

Later the situation soon calmed down, and the good thing was there were no casualties only some civilians with minor injuries.

At night, Jing yuan!reader is walking towards the tree in windrise and a barb is playing their harp and relaxing in the tree.

Jing yuan!reader : I presume you're the one that whispers those words to my ears

Venti : yes you're correct and thank you for sparring my friend.

Venti : I'm venti, the best barb in mondstat. Or as well the archon of mondstat

Jing yuan!reader : now I'm here, will you tell me what's wrong with your friend and why is he attacking your city.

Venti : he's been corrupted and that's why he's been going on a rampage, and is bring manipulated by the abyss order... this is not him.

Jing yuan!reader : I see

Venti : so I'm asking for the help of you to defeat him and to rescue him

Jing yuan : fine then

Soon they made it towards stormterror, Jing yuan ready Guan dao and venti ready his bow. And stormterror flies in front of them, ready

Meanwhile at the knight of favonius HQ

Jean : thank you for aiding in this battle traveler

Traveler : nodded yes

Kaeya : we gotta be prepared if stormterror is planning on another attack

Jean : yes your right

Lisa : our first move should be evacuating the citizens into a much safer area, it was a good thing some civilians didn't die during the first attack

Kaeya : your right, it seems stormterror knows where he should attack next time

Jean : alright let's ask some knight to evacuate the civilians

The ground shake and causing them to stumble towards the ground

Kaeya : it seems like it's already starting

All of the civilians have been evacuated towards springvale as well for those who are unable or unwilling for battle, most of those who are able to battle march towards stormterror lair leading a group of vision wielders as well people that are skilled at fighting.

When they made it towards the stormterror lair, they were unable to head inside due to the storm barrier.

Suddenly a giant figure forms and appears in the sky, leveling the entire stormterror lair, and pierce stormterror using its spear, stormterror realest a cry of pain and suddenly a gust of wind happens around him purifying him from the abyssal energy. The battle was over storm terror now dvalin has come to his senses and was now flying both of them out of stormterror lair.

The knights witness the entire battle, unfortunately unable to take a glimpse of who's been battling stormterror, being the crisis has been diffused by these strangers they soon retreat, but now a new looming threat form of who is the one wielding the spirit.

As for a celebration for bringing back dvalin, venti took them to angel share to drink to their heart's content. It seems people have the same idea because many civilians and knights are celebrating.

Meanwhile venti is drunk performing, they're sitting at one of the tables drinking some of the dandelion wine, until the seat In front of them was sat down by a blue hair eye patch person

Kaeya : it seems we haven't met before, are you perhaps new to mondstat

Jing yuan!reader : ah yes

Kaeya : welcome to mondstat, stranger...

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Night Terrors. . .

(Van Helsing Boys x Reader)

(A/N); Ollo and welcome, friends! I give you VAN HALEN— wait. No. VAN HELSING!! Please note, it's my first time writing for the film AND my first time writing lil imagines! As always, enjoy! ❤

Plot; How they comfort you after having a nightmare

Pairings; Gabriel Van Helsing x Reader (Romantic), Carl x Reader (Romantic), Count Vladislaus Dracula x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, blood, death, angst with fluffity fluff

_________________________________________

Gabriel Van Helsing

The night was quiet save for the sound of the gentle evening breeze rustling the trees, the last embers of the campfire now burning away into nothing.

Dark eyes monitored the small encampment from afar, eyeing the two sleeping bodies with care. Peaceful sleep was hard to come by for one Gabriel Van Helsing.

Horrific nightmares often stole his precious sleep from him. Every night, almost. Both yourself and Carl were oblivious to such things, unable to hear his struggles whilst slumbering within your own little worlds. Some part of Gabriel was grateful for that, not wishing to burden you in particular about such things. You, who had already been through so much.

His gaze fell upon you with a tenderness that you never were allowed to see in your waking hours. Softly, a sigh passed through his nostrils in seeing you sleeping so soundly. As envious as he was, Van Helsing was unable to mask his fondness of you even still.

Your breaths were even, the delicate strands of your hair falling perfectly over the curves of your face. He could barely spy the details in the fading firelight, yet it never failed to put him at ease. You were so beautiful.

With great care in his steps, Gabriel strayed closer to your sleeping form. He almost jumped at Carl's sudden loud snore, glaring at the sleeping friar for a moment before continuing on his way.

Kneeling by you, he gently pulled your blankets up and over your shoulders, no longer having to mask his vulnerabilities and affection for you. You would never know how much you meant to the monster hunter.

From the very beginning, you'd been there. You found him on the steps of the Vatican Church, half dead all those years ago. Not a sister of the church, but a volunteer in servitude of God and the Church for their kindness in taking you in after your family was brutally murdered. They were your family. And you invited Gabriel in with open arms.

You tended to his wounds, nursed him to health, never left his side. Your face was burned into his memory from the very start. No longer wishing to stand idle in the Church, you trained alongside him to become a monster hunter yourself. You followed him everywhere. It was in all this time together, that Gabriel realised he loved you. However, he would leave such things unspoken. Everyone Van Helsing loves, always seems to die.

The warmth of his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, swiping your hair behind your ear with one of his callouses. Before standing up, he took notice to a sudden shift in your behaviour. Your head had begun to shift softly, a grimace appearing strongly on your expression.

"No", you breathed out, your feet suddenly kicking from your blanket. Your body began to tremor and thrash slightly, Gabriel dropping fully to his knees beside you.

"(Y/n)", he tried gently to wake you, his eyes clouding over in concern. The realisation hit Gabriel that this was him every night and the thought of you going through the same thing made him sick.

"No!", you protested louder, your brows now creasing further. Sweat began to glisten on your skin, your breaths becoming erratic with your movements.

Grasping your shoulder, Van Helsing called to you once more, firmly, "(Y/n)!". You were suddenly pulled from your unconscious state, grappling onto the strong arm of your best friend. The echoes of your unwelcome dream lingered freshly within your mind, the brunette entering your field of view. "Are you alright?".

Feeling as if your breath had caught in your throat, you felt your emotions overwhelm you all at once. Your eyes stung with tears whilst you sat up, only able to whisper his name in your relief, "Gabriel". The dream hadn't been real; Gabriel was alive.

Your arms reached up, engulfing the larger man in a hug. The hunter's arms floated for a moment, not having the most affectionate upbringing. Yet, after a moment, he found peace and comfortability in wrapping them softly around your form.

Trembling from your sobs, you remained in Gabriel's arms, the brunette almost content to hold onto you. He could only imagine the horrors you'd seen, a sense of dread prickling in his mind. "It's alright", he hushed you, hesitantly reaching up to run his fingers through your hair. "It's alright".

The image of Dracula flashed into your mind, covered in Gabriel's blood. It had been so real to you. You'd already lost your biological family, the feeling of losing Van Helsing as well was too much to bare. He was the man who held your heart, after all.

When your cries died into calmer breaths, the brunette didn't pull away. He was allowing you to do so at your own leisure. "Are you alright?", he repeated, amidst his growing concern.

"Yes", you finally answered him, your throat tight and croaky. Finally breaking your embrace with him, you wiped at your reddened eyes, noting the worry within his own. He had such beautifully coloured gaze. Like the comforting smoothness of chocolate. "It was just a dream".

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small flask of alcohol. "Have a sip. It might dull your nerves", he whispered, offering the bottle to you. The liquid was smoky sweet and burned your throat, yet it had a comforting warmth to it as it hit your stomach.

"Thanks". He inclined his head with a short smile. "I'm sorry if I woke you".

"Don't be", he placated you with a gentle tug to his shoulders, sipping from the flask as well. "We all get nightmares".

"Even you?".

"Yes, me", he murmured. "All too often, I'd think. But, nevermind that". Wishing to distance himself, he stood. "Get some more rest, I think we'll both need it—".

"Wait!", you almost shouted, clasping your hand around his larger one. You sent a cautious look to the nearby friar who was still somehow asleep before meeting eyes with the brunette's. His brows creased in confusion. "Will you stay with me?".

Marking the look of terror in your orbs, the monster hunter relented easily to your coaxing. Many nights, he too wished that he had company for comfort. With a silent nod, his hat and jacket were quickly removed. You shuffled over in your bedroll, allowing him to fit in beside you.

Despite how intoxicating it was for the both of you to be so close like this, it felt almost right in a sense. Familiar. "Thank you", you breathed out, Gabriel able to spy the gratitude in your gaze despite the dark.

"Get some sleep", he encouraged softly, offering a smile. "I'm here". Shifting closer to him, your head rested by his broad chest as his arms instinctively fell over you. His gaze monitored your expression, ever content to watch you slip into a slumber. After some silence, you quietly called to him,

"Gabriel?". You recieved a hum in return, beckoning you to continue. Hesitation almost had your throat closing, yet you couldn't allow your best friend to face the fate in your dreams without knowing what truly lies in your heart. "I love you".

For the first time in a long time, his heart was unsteady, thrumming faster within its confines. His silence was tormenting to you, insecurities already playing within your mind. Perhaps you shouldn't have said anything at all??

Tilting your head upwards, his lips seized your own with a dizzying gentleness, his hands burning hot against the skin of your face. Or was that the alcohol? You couldn't be sure.

Breaking down every wall of emotional shielding he'd made for himself, Gabriel finally allowed himself to give in to the wants of his heart. "I love you too". It was spoken beneath his breath, yet you could hear the smile and perhaps the affectionate warmth within his words; as if a burden had also been lifted in some way.

One thing you were both sure about was; when you both would wake the next morning, things would be different, yet better than they had ever been before...

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Carl

"I beg your pardon?", the young friar sputtered, gazing at his best friend incredulously.

"There's not enough room in the castle for all three of us to stay, so you and (Y/n) have to share a room".

"I can't tell if you've noticed", Carl's voice dropped an octave. "But, there's only one bed in each room!".

"You act as if you haven't been dreaming about this for years", Van Helsing teased with a rare and almost lighthearted grin, the blonde's face heating up. "Come on! Here I was thinking you would be happy about this!".

"She's your sister!", Carl hissed. "I can't believe you're happy about this!!". The hunter's eyes rolled amusedly, falling onto your approaching form with a gentle mirth. Anna strayed not too far behind, the two of you already getting along more than soundly in the few hours since your meeting.

"Ready to settle in, Carl?". With just the sound of your voice alone, the blonde's worries and his ability to form coherent sentences had both faded from him.

"Yes, yes", he fumbled, nodding to himself more than anything. "Let's go". Van Helsing's lips pursed to restrain any laughter that threatened to slip and ruin his composure, watching as the both of you journeyed together to your shared room.

"Did they take the bait?", Anna cocked a brow.

"All too well", the brunette replied, irking a smirk from his female counterpart.

"You come here to help me defeat Dracula and yet you also think it's the perfect time to help your sister end up with your friend".

"Is that a problem?". An amused giggle almost left the Valerious in her keen observation of this stranger.

"Van Helsing, monster hunter and matchmaker", Anna mused to herself, earning an unimpressed raised brow from Gabriel. "A curious title".

"Don't push your luck", he warned.

Settling into your shared quarters with the friar had been easy enough. The room was large and extravagant, easily impressing Carl with the study space and yourself with the various arrays of books upon the many shelves.

"Now", the blonde started to ready his bedroll once the time came to slumber. "I can hardly have you sleeping on the floor, so—".

"Carl", you halted him. "This bed is a palace. Just stick to your side and we won't have a problem". The friar found himself unable to argue with you, enamoured by the carefree and playful smile you'd offered him. However, he couldn't help but feel guilty. If you knew how he felt, would you still be so keen to allow him to sleep beside you?

It was no secret to anybody else that Carl loved you, Van Helsing's younger sister. He'd half expected the hunter to hate him for that, much less support the idea and tease him incessantly over it. But, the way Van Helsing saw it; Carl was a good man of faith and hardly able to stand against him should his sister face heartbreak at the blonde's hands, if at all.

Everyone knew, except for you.

In climbing under the thick covers of the bed with the friar, some part of you prayed that Carl's warm presence would ease the fear and pain you often experienced when falling into the world of sleep. However, you found that not even he could keep the horrific dreams away.

You awoke with a gasp, trembling uncontrollably in the early hours of the morning. The moon was shining brightly through the windows of the balcony doors, illuminating the room in a gentle blue glow. You were in a bed; it wasn't real.

You heaved a sigh of relief and exhaustion, your head falling into your hands to feel the wetness of sweat dripping from your face. Tears joined the mixture whilst you desperately wiped at your now swollen eyes. Not even you could remember the last time you slept pleasantly.

Turning your gaze to your counterpart, you were relieved to find him still sleeping. His restful expression was beyond adorable, a wet chuckle leaving you whilst you reached over to brush your fingertips along his cheek. He had light stubble and a soft snore, snuggling into his pillow. How you envied his peacefulness.

Carl had always been a comfort to you, although you'd never admitted it to him. His rambles, his creativity and ideas had all ensnared you. He had such a sense of innocence in comparison to yourself. You had so much blood on your hands, you wondered if you'd even make it to the gates of Saint Peter. You couldn't allow him to follow you into the dark. Not whilst he shone so brightly in comparison to you. So, silent you would have to remain.

Moving yourself from the covers, you hardly noticed Carl's eyes fluttering open. "(Y/n)?", he mumbled tiredly, his brows furrowing in concern.

"Go back to sleep", you hushed him, attempting to leave as to not burden him further. His warm hand upon your own stilled your movements, your head snapping back to him.

You would have preserved the image you saw before you now forever, the air being pulled from your lungs at how beautiful his blue-teal gaze looked in the shining of the moon. It didn't take long for him to spy your tearful eyes, the friar suddenly moving to sit up in his concern. "You've been crying", he fussed. "What's wrong?".

"Carl, it's nothing—", you tried again to release yourself from his grip only for him to squeeze your hand. "Just leave me be". Despite your assurances, his mind was far too quick, already figuring out what ailed you. Carl knew that Gabriel suffered from terrifying nightmares. As his sister, it must've been only natural that you would have the same thing.

"Please", his voice remained steady, his thumb running over your hand. Your eyes met his own glistening with tears and clouded with shame, completely frozen under his gentle gaze. "It's alright", he consoled you. "I know what ails you and you needn't hide it from me". At his kind words, your head dipped away from his whilst hot tears began to leave your eyes. "Look at me, look at me". He coaxed your face gently with his spare hand, wiping at all the tears that fell without a care.

Your fingers wound around the ones that grasped your own, blinking furiously to dismiss the tears of frustration and embarrassment. "I was hoping that you would never see me like this", you wept, entirely ashamed at your lack of composure.

"(Y/n) Van Helsing has emotions, God help us all", he mused with a playful sarcasm, delighting in the small laugh that left you whilst your crying slowly ceased. He even noted that his usual timidness had also dissipated.

With his nimble fingers, he moved the strands of hair that hid your face behind your ears and smiled whilst removing the last of your tears from your face. His focus, that kindness. If only he knew how beautiful he was.

"That's better", Carl hummed with a sense of accomplishment. "Shall I fetch you some water?".

"No, don't trouble yourself", you insisted. "You've done more than enough, Carl. Thank you".

The blonde's lips parted, a kind smile dawning on his features. "You're most welcome". He thoughtfully noted the exhaustion apparent in your features, tugging on your hand to pull you back under the covers. "I think some rest will do us both some good".

"I don't want to sleep", you refused politely, a shudder passing through you at the very thought of another horrific dream.

"Rest doesn't necessarily imply sleep". Moving his pillows closer to your own, Carl invited you to resume your place now alongside him. "Just close your eyes and relax. I'll stay close".

However, it wasn't your pillows you chose to lie upon. You shifted in beside him, instead resting your head upon his chest. His whole form tensed for a few moments, shocked at your decision. But, a tender warmth seemed to consume him whilst your arms encircled him.

Every part of him felt at peace, wishing to savour the moment which would probably never come to pass again. His larger hands worked caresses and circles over your back and arms, content to listen to your rhythmic breaths.

"Tell anyone that I cried and I'll have you", you threatened jokingly, the friar taking to it with a laugh.

"Even if you looked beautiful all the same?". Carl's words had your head lifting from his chest in some form of disbelief. The affection radiating from his halflidded stare was enough to affirm the honesty of his words and speak many more to you.

His callouses brushed over the curve of your cheek, igniting goosebumps across your skin before the warmth of his lips reached your own in a firm, yet gentle touch.

Sharing a smile with the young fri, your head returned to rest upon his beating chest. Accidentally falling asleep in each other's arms some time during the night, you awoke surprised the following morning. For the first time ever, you didn't have any nightmares...

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Count Vladislaus Dracula

The usually quiet castle of Vladislaus Dracula was now encompassed with a thunderous, rhythmic beating. It instilled a sense of terror that usually went unfelt by the Vampire as the deafening sounds reached the unparalleled senses of his hearing. Something, everything was wrong.

For this sound wasn't any drum or song. It was your human heartbeat.

These cold halls were a safe haven for Dracula, always well guarded both in the day and night. And that fact was no exception to you, his cherished human bride.

Never had he heard your heart in such a fearful state, not since that night over three hundred years ago. The night you'd lost your life defending him against Gabriel Van Helsing.

The raven haired male almost shuddered at the thought of it, still remembering the sharp and hurtful details of your death all those hundreds of years ago.

Alike to this current evening, there was a storm baring a cold rain. The thunder cracked open the skies with a deafening ferocity whilst the battle between Dracula and his age-old enemy had ensued.

You had screamed, begged for Dracula's life to be spared, along with your heart which undoubtedly belonged to him.

Gabriel was in love with you at the time, just as much as the Count had been. Always sworn to his sense of duty above all else, Van Helsing had sympathised with your pleas, but refused. He'd insisted that the man you'd fallen for, who had a gentleness, a need to be loved, accepted and wanted, was 'evil'.

So, you took the final blow for him, leaping in between Gabriel's blade and Dracula. In doing so, you had given him the chance to strike down the hunter. However, he was far too late to save the one who truly mattered to him. You.

Whenever you had stood beside him, smiled, held his hand or looked into his gaze, there was never any fear in your eyes or heart. Only the warmth of unconditional love. And perhaps that was what stoked the fire in his soul all those years ago?

Dracula had spent the next few centuries after your untimely demise feeling lost and alone, trying to replace the hollowness within his soul to no avail. Until the fateful night you returned to him many months ago.

Following a whim and the prophetic and vivid dreams you'd had since you were a teen, you'd travelled from your home in London to Romania. It had taken many days and nights, following the whispers of your dreams, but you had found Frankenstein Castle.

It had been a task for Dracula not to crumble to his knees before you, to take you into his arms and immortalise you forever. No, he'd decided to wait out of respect and love for you to give him the words. It had surprised many, but Dracula refused to lose you a second time. The fates had given him a second chance that he would not take lightly.

Despite his confidence in his home, Dracula's sharp eyes travelled the halls for unseen threats that could pose a danger to you, but found nothing in his quick journey to your shared room.

Moving faster than the shadows, he had wasted no time in rushing in, still scanning the darkness of the room. His steps were silent as he strayed closer to where you slept, his usually hardened eyes now soft as they landed on you.

Releasing the human equivalent of a breath through his nostrils, Dracula was relieved to find you weren't harmed. However, the new-found concern he had was completely different from before.

You were gripping the covers with a grimace, your head swaying side to side every so often. Whimpers and quick breaths heaved through your throat as if you were running. It was the one other disadvantage of being human. Nightmares.

With a featherlight precision, the raven haired male sat on the bed beside you. The back of his stone cold hand pressed against your forehead, the skin hot and glistening with sweat. "Oh, My Dear", he murmured, his dark eyes reflecting the worry now blossoming within his very soul. He hadn't realised he had one in the first place, until he met you.

Bringing his hand to cup your cheek, he felt your pulse raging beneath your skin. "(Y/n)", he cooed, attempting to gently lull you from your unconsciousness. His soft touches brought you suddenly from your dreams, a gasp shooting from your throat when your eyes fluttered open. "You are safe, My Love", he hushed you. "I'm here, it's alright".

"Vlad", you huffed in your breathlessness, noting the soothing of his cool touch on your blistering skin. Sitting up, your hands wrapped around your lover's, his hands lifting yours to his lips. Slowly, he pressed cool and sensual touches to your delicate fingers, his brows drawing together when he spied your tearful gaze.

"What ails you, My Beloved?". His voice was calm and gentle like the seas of a nighttime, his larger hands clasping around your own to caress them consistently. One quirk that you discovered early on in your relationship was the fact that your husband loves to play with your fingers and hands, even to self-soothe his own worries. To make sure you were still here.

The crevice of your throat grew tight, your chest fluttering and stomach almost nauseous with the building up of your anxiety. Flashes of your dreams remained fresh within your mind.

You'd seen the Vatican Church in Rome. You'd seen the Priests conspiring with a dark and faceless stranger to kill your husband. Anna Valerious was also prominent in your dreams. It hadn't made sense to you. Not at first.

When you'd seen horrifying flashes of the night you'd perished 300 years ago, it had all come together. The stranger's face was revealed to you. Gabriel Van Helsing. Like yourself, back from the dead. You saw his boat, you saw his array of weapons. He was coming to Transylvania.

"We're in danger", your voice tremored, furthering the confusion and concern Dracula felt. "He's coming for us, Vlad".

"Who is, My Sweet?", his voice remained steady and soft, shifting closer to offer you more comfort from his presence.

"Van Helsing", you whispered, almost too fearful to even speak his name. The shock instantly hit Dracula's dark gaze, his whole form stiffening in a sense of alarm and fury.

"Gabriel is long dead", he attempted to console you with a smile, his callouses tracing over the smoothness of your cheekbone. "It was just a dream, nothing more".

"It wasn't, My Love", you mumbled, offering him a wistful glance with the shaking of your head. "My dreams spoke true".

Sadness clouded the eyes of your husband, knowing already that your dreams were never wrong. He'd only hoped they had been.

"Why can they not just leave us alone?!", he ground out from between his teeth with a sudden white fury. "Why must they scorn my very existence?! Can they not see that I am happy, leaving the world to its endless existence in peace??".

"Vlad, My Love", your voice instantly softened the rage boiling up within him, your hands reaching to cradle his face. His eyes were as tearful as your own, even now, managing the strength to offer you warmth in his smile as he looked upon you. "We speculated that this day may come, when we would be hunted again".

"I will not lose you", he spoke with absolute surity. "Not again. I will not allow him to take everything from me".

"And neither will I". His brows furrowed, silently asking for elaboration. "It's time, Vlad". At your words, his undead heart may have leapt into his throat in both excitement and delight.

"My Love, are you sure?? I am content to—".

"I will not let him rob me of a lifetime with you for a second time. Nor will I allow him to erase everything we have done. It will destroy you all over again".

Dracula only managed a few soft nods. For the first time in his existence, he would not be fighting alone, an unspoken promise lingering between you both. If he would be hellbound, then so shall you be.

Dipping his head, Vlad's lips took your own with a breathtaking softness, firm and sure of the strong tether between you both. Some part of him savoured the warmth of your blood lingering beneath the surface, knowing it would be the last he would feel of it.

___________________________________________

By the coming of the morning, you would be a creature of the night...

Hey readers!! ❤❤ I hope you all enjoyed this set of imagines!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! So, please - let me know how I went in writing these characters and how to improve, if I can! If you wished to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!

Thank you all for your support!! ❤❤

____________________________________________

TAGLIST; @6lostgirl6

[theinsideofablackhole]

Rain World - THE EFFERVESCENCE and some various theories built off of it

EDIT: now that Watcher's out my actual reading of all this is a bit different. Once I look at that more I might post a new thing so... Watcher quasi-spoilers I guess?

Firstly, consider:

Anyways,

You know that weird shit James said on an art month stream last year or so I think? Someone asks him what the deal with Hunter being "karmically imbalanced" is and he says this:

"It takes a certain level of karmic alignment to sort of translate the barrier between realities."

Lydia chuckles because of this quote afterwards. Obviously, her subliminal pointer gives away that this statement is a Rosetta Stone-esque lore revelation that will educate a new, objectively correct model of Rain World's reality - and the coming story that will break it.

Remember the rambling in the Ripple trailer? To summarize: droplets fall upon a body of still water, which send ripples outward. As more and more droplets fall, these ripples form countless interactions and create a chaotic "effervescence."

Each droplet symbolizes a singular "unit" of the cycle. Each "unit" is probably either the life of an individual or an entire reality. For this particular post I'm going with droplets as realities.

Overall, I think this ramble can be used to visualize how the cycle behaves according to the perspective of a Slugcat. (Fair warning that it's basically a very loose adaptation of the timeline-based cycle theory that I know Some of you hate.)

Ripple Collisions and Reality Transfers

While each droplet and its ripples (each reality) initially exist as its own distinct entity, their ripples eventually collide with those of another droplet. Here, the barrier that separates realities is lessened, and transfer is possible. When you die and wake up again, your Essence™ (whatever comprises You™, not sure what) is carried along this collision to a living version of You, in a parallel reality. This transfer expends karma (or expels a Karma Flower, which also gets carried with you).

It may be initially strange to think that collisions conveniently occur at the exact same moment a creature dies; rather, it's important to remember that karma seems to exist on its plane and that the ripples do not sync with time in the same fashion.

"Karmic Alignment" and Hunter

You also need a certain degree of "alignment" to be properly carried through the collisions of these ripples. Hunter is misaligned in some way, which is correlated with their illness & general karmic fuckery (note: idk whether alignment or illness is the root cause).

This misalignment creates friction when crossing between the barriers of realities. Hunter outright cannot perceive the existence of Flowers and they live on borrowed time before this dealignment rips them from their life entirely; completely unable to be carried along the ripples.

After Hunter dies, it's a bit of a toss-up. A super-Karma Flower is created that persists in Monk and Survivor, and Hunter will apparently "wake up again" anyway according to Moon. Even in this truly dealigned state, Hunter's Essence™ will return somehow.

I kinda doubt Hunter simply turns into a Flower, because of the meta aspect of repeating runs as Hunter (which I see as a part of the experience) feels symbolic of a more "complete" return to form.

Perhaps their inability to translate the ripple barriers means that they're forced to persist and return within the same reality they were doomed in. Hunter's shambling Rot corpse in Downpour is actually a very decent analog for this, though I'm not 100% satisfied with this answer because the reset symbolism is lost.

Ok But What About Watcher

First, let's look at the words of the unknown-possibly-Pebbles-considering-where-the-voicelines-come-from-iterator from the ARG.

They greet their "shadow", claiming that they "have drifted, (...) dispersed in the multitudes of the waves and the ripples." This seems to suggest that this individual is unwillingly moving through these realities at speeds or distances beyond normal, or they're possibly even shattered between all these realities.

According to the iterator, the shadow has a "thread" that they can follow to eventually return to how they once were; their preferred reality or an unfractured Essence.

The shadow is most likely referring to the Watcher... assuming the Watcher even is the Slugcat we play as. After all, the speaker does say they've been watching the shadow instead.

I think the iterator and the shadow (our slugcat) may be the same being; they together make the Watcher. The iterator is fragmented across realities (which is possibly fucking up those realities in turn, i.e. the various references to "cracks and crumbles"), but the shadow acts as some kind of extension or envoy whose behavior can help reunite the iterator into their whole.

Going by teasers like the pink sky region, the clear lack of rain in the Badlands region (due to the locusts, which I presume are a new end-of-cycle threat), and the generally fantastical nature of what we've seen (especially in that weird whale), I think the Watcher DLC definitely takes place in an alternate reality. Or alternate realities, plural?

Maybe the shadow ferries together the fragments of the iterator so that it can perform something greater, when it is reborn whole.

It's 2am and I think it's fun to pretend that whatever I just wrote is a comprehensive thought, closed off with a nice little bowtie, so I'm just going to say it is