#rough night in jericho

[dudeshusband]

dean martin in shades of yellow, a blessed series

3 ring circus (1954) / mr. ricco (1975) / hollywood or bust (1956) / you're never too young (1955) / marriage on the rocks (1965) / the silencers (1966) / who's been sleeping in my bed? (1963) / the ambushers (1967) / rough night in jericho (1967)

[deanmartingifs]

Rough Night in Jericho, 1967

[tedhead]

holyshit

[letorip]

Can you do headcanons about meeting/first date with Jenna’s characters?

meetings & first dates

very funny to think about, i really did have quite good fun writing this one. thank you as always to the anon who requested, i was happy to oblige. also this isn’t what i originally planned to put out but casual [iii] should be out soon so maybe this’ll fill the void. i'm also on holiday at the moment, so that's why i'm posting at a weird hour (5 am) my ass had a plane to catch

i think i cooked on the lorraine one, would y'all want that one too

wednesday addams

you meet her in jericho, working behind the counter of the hardware store your parents own, when she stomps inside in her rain soaked boots and down a random aisle without a word at you

when she comes back with a shovel, some duct tape, a taser, and some rope, you have to awkwardly joke that it looks like she's trying to kill something

she doesn't laugh at your joke, instead staring right back at you, and you feel yourself gulp

that's your first interaction, and you don't see her again for a few days, until she comes back to buy a box of nails, and then a week later, a bucket, and a few days after that, a plunger

you won't know it until later, but she didn't actually need the nails or the bucket, she just needed an excuse to go back to the hardware store and buy some stuff so she could get up close to you

after four or five trips of her buying the most odd, random shit, she works up the courage to actually start talking to you a bit more. after a few more trips after that, you ask her what the stuff is all for, and she lets you in on the creature in the woods killing the locals, and that she claims to have seen it

for what it's worth, you believe her immediately, about rowan and the hyde and crackstone, and you listen to her theorise, leaning on the counter until someone else comes in and asks you where the plywood is, and you have to actually go do your job. wednesday stares down the intruder, trying to smite them with her eyes, but you always give her an apologetic smile before you leave

she tells you later when you're better friends and she's confessing, but she thinks of you as an odd comfort and home that she never realised she desired, and being in the hardware store and having you smile at her gave her a single fluttering of that warmth

eventually she brings you on her investigations and her cold, dead heart is running a million miles an hour the entire time, but you have to hide how close you are to wednesday from your father, because of his passionate dislike of outcasts

wednesday comes to your back window and chucks rocks at the glass to get your attention, romeo and juliet style, so that you can sneak out

when you actually ask her out, it's before you've even kissed, and wednesday wordlessly nods yes with her mouth hanging open, before she grabs the collar of your jacket and messily kisses you for the first time

your first date is to a movie, and to a horror movie, to be more specific. you take her to get food at a local diner that's open 24 hours, super late at night, and though she makes a remark about how these restaurants were unhealthy and an indicator of what's wrong with america, she thoroughly enjoys her waffle and you even manage to get her to wear one of those silly diner hates for a moment. she doesn't admit it, but she likes making you laugh

the movie is an incredibly rough experience. you despise horror movies, but wednesday is left smiling at the screen as a man is ripped to shreds in front of your eyes

that is until she realises your discomfort, and she realises you only did this because you knew she would like it. the realisation literally blows her mind, and she watches your face contort in disgust and fear, before gently reaching over and hastily grabbing your hand

she doesn't say another word, struggling to process the new emotions until you're both done with the movie and walking home. you're ranting about how gross it was and how you would be having nightmares for weeks because of it, and then she reaches up to the back of your neck and pulls you down into another fiery kiss, right as it starts to rain

tara carpenter

you've known tara for years, since you're also from woodsboro. you went to the same elementary school and she’s known of you for a long, long time since you chased her around the playground with a lizard in your hands

tara's always liked you, and you've both always had some attraction to each other and magical chemistry, but there's always been something to keep you apart

tara's involvement with amber and then chad, and then your own girlfriends, it was never the right time for you both to explore whatever electricity you could feel between you, so you didn't until you were both well into your year at blackmore

you only really get close until you take the same film class as tara. tara takes it because she's a film major and you take it because you need the credit and it's the only option of a class that takes place after 8 in the morning

you sit right next to each other and for the whole semester, you two slowly grow closer and closer, poking each other and whispering stuff while the professor prattles on

she's the de facto film buff of the group, only rivalled by mindy, and so you go to her whenever you're working on a project, because you're definitely the type to watch stupid shit, and not the high-brow film stuff the class requires

it means you end up hanging out a lot, at the library, at the coffee shop, on the couch of her apartment. you both set up the '1 for 1' rule, in which she gets to show you a movie for ever movie you get to show her

and she shows you really annoyingly good stuff, while you make her watch utter garbage. neither of you admit it, but you end up liking some of the high-brow art she pushes and she ends up having fun with the stupid movies you show her

when she makes you watch the babadook, you make her watch hot tub time machine, when she makes you watch citizen kane, you make her watch bridesmaids, and when she makes you watch la la land, you make her watch zoolander. it's a mutual exchange of interests, and you both lean against each other when you watch them on the couch or on her bed

paddington absolutely makes tara carpenter cry, there, i said it, and you show it to her and hug her when she does

things are genuinely just so easy and perfect with you, and it's so natural in a way that is unnatural for tara, but in a good way. you're unlike anyone she's ever been with, and it's refreshing and new in a way that's so exciting when you both kiss during the movie before sunrise

that's why it's so funny when your first date goes absolutely awfully

it rains on you, while you both walk to the restaurant and neither of you brought an umbrella because it wasn't projected to rain. then the sushi place you're bringing her to completely forgets your reservation and you're both waiting 30 minutes to get a table, and to top matters off, you end up being allergic to a fish you try for the first time, and need to get taken in hospital

you're not even choking really, just broken out into hives and feeling lightheaded, and tara's in the ambulance with you on the way there, and you're both talking casually, like "how was your day?"

you both get there and realise tara forgot her phone at the restaurant, and whereas anyone else would be pissed and call it a terrible date and give up, you both are fucking laughing your heads off at how cartoonishly awful the date went, even though it's a hospital, and that probably isn't the right place to be laughing in

when you're released super late that night, you both end up just wandering around new york until the late hours of the morning, just talking and occasionally holding hands. tara mentions that it reminds her of la la land, and you kiss, and what would've been a deal-breaking, awful date for anyone else just becomes something you shared with each other, and brings you even more in love

reminds me of the song ant pile by dominic fike

lorraine day

you meet lorraine as the kid of the new corn farmer in town, after your grandfather gets too old to be able to maintain his land by himself. your father has to come back and take over, due to his declining health, and you first see each other when lorraine and her daddy come to say hello and talk business for cow feed

she spots you in the back, leaning on the fence next to the field with your arms crossed and your hat pulled low, and you're just watching her and her dad talking to yours with a frown

she's set on edge by your presence, even though you're not really part of the conversation. she has to stop herself when she realises she keeps looking over at you every couple seconds, and you're still just staring at her and her father in a way that isn't exactly friendly

your dad is a generally nice guy, and he gives her your name in a passing mention and graciously accepts the pie lorraine's momma made to bring to the new partners, but it overall isn't a great first impression, and she decides right there in her daddy's truck on the ride home that she doesn't like you very much

when you're brought up again, it's by her father a week or so later. he's mentioning how helpful you are around your grandfather's farm over dinner, saying how your grandfather is blessed to have someone so good-hearted, and lorraine can’t help but remember the look of you glowering against the fence at them and doubt how true that is

she still doesn't like you, when you actually talk for the first time. RJ is bringing her home after an incredibly awkward date and gets a flat, and just as it starts to rain, guess who spots her and decides to pull over in their rusty ass pickup truck with a weird look on your face that lorraine can't help but assume is smugness

your truck bed is full of tools and supplies for your grandfather's farm and you haven't got a spare on you, but you know there's one in the shed on your farm. there's only one seat open in your truck, and even though lorraine heavily hints to RJ that she doesn't want to go, she's volunteered, as RJ doesn't want to leave his van on the side of the road, even though there's not many people who would touch the piece of junk

you snort when he insinuates that lorraine wouldn't be strong enough to fend off anyone who would take the van, and even though she's equally as miffed by RJ's assumption she's a bit annoyed by you defending her

the ride home is incredibly tense and neither of you say much until you're pulling into your yard and you say, "for the record, i highly doubt he'll be fending anyone off either." it's funny and it almost makes her laugh until she remembers she decided she didn't like you and she has to get serious again, and tells you not to talk about her boyfriend that way, and you don't say anything for the rest of the time you're helping her

she sits in the truck watching you from the wing mirror as you roll the spare out from your shed and then hoist it into the truck bed, looking sweaty and muscles tensing with effort. even though you're kind of annoying, you're tanned and you're fit, and it's something she can't help but notice whenever she goes to your farm in search of her father, who sometimes comes over to buy corn for his cattle

you both naturally start to grow into something resembling a friendship. you'll shoot the shit when you're not working, leaning on the handle of a shovel half in the ground, and lorraine will walk over and just kind of talk to you for a while. she doesn't even really realise the annoyance has melted away until it smacks her in the face that she was really wrong about you

your first date isn't actually a date until it's over. lorraine is at a lake day with her friends when one shows up with you in tow. she didn't even realise you had friends, but you're there with them and you look damn good in your swim suit, and you actually start talking a little bit about leaving the big city for your grandfather

you're all having fun, swimming around and talking, and she sees you're pretty funny when you want to be. it's kind of jarring to see just how wrong she was about you, and you both end up dancing around to your friend playing guitar and singing along

you end up being her ride home, and though there's still an underlying tension in the air, this time your truck is full of laughter and you're both actually talking. about halfway through, you accidentally let it slip that you asked your friend if lorraine was going to be there, and though the tips of your ears are red and you're apologising, lorraine can't help but reach right over and kiss you, and suddenly everything feels right in the world

cairo sweet

you meet her on the first day of creative writing, as the new student at your school, and mr. miller's seating chart places you directly next to her. she stares at you a bit, as if unimpressed by your existence, and you stare right back at her, equally as unimpressed

though you're new, you quickly skyrocket to incredible academic success, and cairo is enraged to find that with the transfer of credits, you're now really the valedictorian, sweeping it from underneath her feet at the very end of her senior year

with that, she absolutely despises you and everything you stand for

you have to trade papers for peer grading and while you calmly grade it at first, when you see that yours is covered in marks and cairo is being absolutely brutal beyond belief, nitpicking every little punctuation mark and symbol she can, you get a bit annoyed and start doing the exact same thing to her

it's a giant game of one-upping the other, and you guys repeatedly mess with each other like a chess match of fucking each other over. neither of you will admit you find the other annoyingly magnetic and captivating, you instead resort to messing with each other's standings

you both are duking it out over each little test grade, as cairo desperately tries to regain her spot at number one and you attempt to fend her off and keep your place. she'll brag about her perfect score on the calculus exam, and then you'll clap back with your extra credit. you absolutely dominate her in maths and sciences but she has you beat in creative writing and histories

winnie is greatly amused by the whole ordeal, and keeps insisting to cairo that you both should get it over with and fuck already but she scoffs and claims to resent the implication. doesn't mean she hasn't thought about it, though

her involvement with mr. miller is something she's only doing to maintain her spot as mr. miller's favourite student. cairo has the writing skill to back it up and is incredibly gifted with the pen, but you ooze a certain charisma that makes the teachers around you all giant fans, and she would be lying if she didn't say she was worried you would pull mr. miller's recommendation letter with it, and steal it right out from under her. it's entirely possible for a teacher to write more than one recommendation letter, she just wants the satisfaction of being the first one to get it

when you're partnered up on a group writing project that needs to be done in pairs, cairo sees it as the perfect opportunity to gather intel on you. another thing she hates is how mysterious you are, and how not many people actually know that much about you, other than how pleasant you are

she insists it has to happen at your house, and though you try to argue, she insists it has to be the case. it surprises her, when she puts your address into her phone and she sees it's a small one bedroom apartment in a bad part of town, without air conditioning and with terrible plumbing, and that your father works three jobs to support you

she doesn't know what she expected, but that's definitely not it, with your ability to dress and intelligence. suddenly her arch nemesis gains a third dimension, and she understands just how hard you work

though you're guarded at first, you both actually slowly discover that you don't exactly mind the other that much. you still want to keep your spot and she desperately wants it for her own, but you say something silly and it makes her laugh- really laugh- for what feels like the first time in a long time

you work together on the project more and more, and suddenly she's enjoying your company and wanting you around. she's definitely a little bit disgusted by that at first, but it's something she can't deny

she asks you on your first date to a poetry reading on a saturday, and you're a bit confused since the group project is already over, but you decide to go anyways and you have a great time. you say something profound after one of the poems, and cairo's eyes just drop to your lips in a weird amazement

she's dragging you to the bathroom immediately before the next poem can even start, and i don't think i have to say what happens next, but it's messy and there's lipstick everywhere

your father snorts when you get home that night, and there's dark red lipstick smudged all over your lips and a bit down your neck, and you roll your eyes at him with a smile

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Pilot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 4833

A/N: This is gonna be the slowest of burns. Every Saturday, these will publish at 3:00 PM CDT! I hope you all enjoy. Taglist/Requests are open!!

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A trail of men disappearing spanning decades had brought you to Jericho, California. It seemed it would be a pretty standard hunt. From the moment you arrived, though, you knew this would be different.

You’d run into other hunters on jobs before, but none as strange and belligerent as John. John was all you knew him by. He was rough around the edges, and in all honesty, a complete dick. You had unintentionally gotten into an unspoken race with him to see who could finish the hunt first. Both of you refused to back off and go find another job; you just out of spite and him… you had no idea why a guy old enough to be your father was being so petty and territorial about this hunt. And perhaps that’s what fueled your fire to finish this hunt before John could. You thought maybe he knew something you didn’t about the hunt, and you were desperate to find out. But then… he disappeared. 

About a week into the “competition” you were having with John, he disappeared. You didn’t see him around Joseph Welch’s house, the Breckenridge Road home, or the Centennial Highway Bridge. It was completely puzzling. He didn’t seem like the type to up and leave in the middle of a job, but you brushed the unsettled feeling you had aside to keep pushing through your hunt. 

You had torched the body of Constance Welch the same night you guessed John left. You were just about to leave town, and then, Troy Squire ended up dead by what you assumed were Constance’s hands. 

You pulled up to the Centennial Highway Bridge in yet another stolen car. 

‘One of these days I won’t keep putting a neon sign on my back by stealing cars and actually find a way to buy one,’ you thought.

Almost as if on cue, another car pulled up next to yours. Except this car— a black 1967 Chevy Impala— was way nicer than the shitty sedan you’d copped for the time being. 

Two young men in the most layers you’ve ever seen anyone wear in the California sun stepped out on either side of the car. You pushed aside the thought of how attractive the shorter of the pair was and kept walking toward the taped-off part of the bridge where a few officers were milling around a crashed car. 

“Is that Troy’s? Oh, my God,” you shook your head, making sure the officers could hear you. 

“Ma’am, you are not supposed to be here,” an officer told you, trying to keep you from walking any closer to the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—” you sniffed, “—I’m his cousin. We were really close growing up, and I, uh, just had to see this for myself, um, do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” a deep voice called from behind you, making you wheel around.

‘Fuck. The Impala dudes.’

“And who are you?” the officer you’d been speaking to asked.

“Federal marshals,” one said, flashing a badge.

‘Goddammit, more hunters.’ You held back an eye roll, doing your best to stay in character.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?”

The one you’d found attractive initially flashed a smile. “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You just had another one just like this, correct?”

The officer you’d been speaking to didn’t seem too convinced by their story, but replied anyway. “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what's the theory?” the taller guy asked. 

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” The officer seemed to remember you were standing there as he spoke. “Ma’am, I really do need you to go.”

“I was just about to—” you started, before the shorter guy cut you off. 

“What kinda crack police work are you doing; talking about sensitive information in front of townies?” He was cut off with a grunt; apparently the other guy had stepped on his foot. 

“Thank you for your time,” you told the officer, suddenly feeling very awkward. You turned on your heel, hurrying away. 

***

After the bizarre incident with the other two hunters on the bridge, you went down to a local diner to get something to eat. You were puzzled as to why Constance was still around after you torched her bones. You flipped through a few pages of your journal when you saw the two hunters from the bridge walking in with two goth chicks. 

‘What the fuck. First John, and now this.’

The shorter one of the pair caught the glare you threw their way over your shoulder. He had a smug look on his face you couldn’t quite read as he sat down in a booth with the girls and his partner. You did your best to listen in on their conversation as you sipped your drink. 

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did,” you heard one of the girls lament. 

You recognized the voice of the taller one. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughed, “—with all that devil stuff.”

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries,” the other guy’s voice broke in. 

You held back a small laugh. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny. 

“Here's the deal, ladies,” the pretty one said, “The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything… What is it?”

Your eyebrows drew together, your back still turned to the group.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” a new voice chimed in. 

“What do they talk about?” the two boys said in unison.

It got a little harder to hear as one of the girls quieted her voice. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I already know that. They are way far behind me in the process.’

“Well, thank you for your time, ladies,” the voice of the taller one spoke amidst some rustling. You figured they were getting up to leave. 

You dropped a twenty on the table, let the door shut behind the group, and stood to follow the boys out. You hung back a little while you watched them head to their car. 

“I know you’re back there, sweetheart,” the pretty one called without turning around.

“I know you do. I was just testing you,” you said, walking closer. “Look, I’ve already got this one covered. You guys should find something else.”

“Not a chance,” the pretty boy replied. 

“Look, man—” you started. 

“We’re just looking for our dad,” the taller one cut you off. “We think he’s working this same job.”

“Wait, is your dad’s name John?” you asked, surprised. 

Both of them started toward you, their shock and confusion evident. “How do you—”

“Whoa, easy,” you giggled. “He was here a few days ago and then he just, pfft,” you imitated a puff of smoke, “disappeared.”

The pretty boy ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated, while the taller guy continued talking to you. “Was he working with you?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, “we were kind of in an unspoken competition to see who could smoke this bitch first when he disappeared. And then, Troy ended up dead a day later. I thought maybe he was connected to Troy’s death some kind of way.”

“I don’t think so,” the taller one answered. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is my brother, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N),” you shook Sam’s hand. When you reached for Dean’s, though, he rolled his eyes at you without taking it. 

“Oh-kay,” you muttered. 

“Sorry about him,” Sam told you. “He’s—”

“A bit touchy?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. 

“I can hear you two, y’know,” Dean snarked. 

“I know,” you quipped. “So, what’s your theory on your dad?”

“We have no idea,” Sam said. “We were hoping you might know.”

“I have nothing for you,” you shook your head. 

“Well, do you know anything about the case?” 

“A lot, actually. Chick’s name is Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white. She lives at the end of Breckenridge Road. I talked to her husband, and he definitely cheated on her. He buried her in a plot behind her house. I went there and torched her. I was just about to leave town when your dad disappeared, Troy wound up dead, and you two showed up.”

“Then, there’s gotta be something else keeping her here,” Sam told you.

“Okay, then what?”

***

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said. The three of you looked over the railing of the Centennial Highway Bridge. Sam had been nice enough to force his brother to let you tag along. 

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we keep digging until we find Dad. Might take a while,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

“What’s Monday?” you asked. 

“I’ve got an interview with law school.”

“Oh, shit, no way!” you smiled. 

Sam smiled back at you before Dean cut in. “Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam cut back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

“No, and she's not ever going to know.”

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean kept walking down the bridge. 

“And who's that?”

“You're one of us,” Dean said. 

Sam hurried around him. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

You felt really awkward doing what felt like intruding on a private moment. Your eyes began to scan the railing of the bridge opposite you.

“You have a responsibility to—”

Sam cut his brother off. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

You were doing your best not to listen in on their conversation when Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge railing.

“Uh, guys—” you started, your eye caught by what looked like Constance standing on the railing of the bridge.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean grumbled at his brother; ignoring you.

“Guys!” 

“What?!” Dean turned to face you, stopping when he caught sight of Constance. Constance then stepped off the railing. 

The three of you broke off in a sprint toward the spot she’d leapt off. You searched the water below. “Where'd she go?”

“No idea,” Dean answered. 

Your visual search was interrupted by a bright light coming on in the corner of your eye. Dean’s Impala’s headlights. 

“What the fuck—” Dean trailed off.

“Who's driving your car?” you asked him. 

He responded by pulling the keys out of his pocket and jingling them. 

“Oh.”

The car jerked to life, heading straight for you and the boys. You broke into a sprint yet again, doing your best to outrun the car; a task that proved impossible. 

“Jump!” you screamed, and the three of you threw yourselves over the side of the bridge. You thankfully caught a bit of the bridge that jutted out over the water and pulled yourself back up, groaning.

‘My arm’s gonna be sore as a bitch in the morning.’

“Dean?” Sam yelled down to the water below. “Dean!”

“What?” came his aggravated response. 

You looked down to see a mud-covered Dean crawling out of the water. You couldn’t hold back a laugh upon seeing him.

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he called up to you.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you answered. “Don’t call me sweetheart. It weirds me out.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Guys, you can argue later. You okay?” Sam called down to Dean.

“I’m super,” his brother responded.

You and Sam climbed back over the railing of the bridge while Dean made his way up to you. The car had stopped only a few inches from where the three of you dove over. Dean busied himself inspecting the engine while you sat with your back leaned against the passenger’s side door. 

“Your car okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean shut the hood. “That Constance chick, what a bitch!”

You chuckled to yourself at his antics. “Alright, well, I don’t think the bridge is what’s tying her here. What now?”

Dean raised his hands in frustration, flicking mud off his hands in the process. 

Sam caught a whiff of his brother. “You smell like a toilet.”

***

Your next stop was a motel. When you went to check in, the clerk informed Dean that another man under the last name on Dean’s card had bought out a room for the whole month. And so, you and the boys went poking around John’s room. 

Every surface was covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, photos, hastily scribbled notes, and bits of red tape tying some of them together. 

“I knew John was weird, but this is a whole new level,” you commented, slightly in awe of the frantic scribblings covering the wall. 

‘'Don’t talk about him like that,” Dean grumbled. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.” He started toward the shower. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam stopped him.

His brother turned around. 

“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—”

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughed. “Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You guys are strange.”

Dean rolled his eyes at you before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You started looking around John’s room. A closer look at the walls of information revealed pages on demons, witches, possession, and other bits of newspaper referring to mysterious deaths unlike anything you’d heard before. One was an obituary clipping from 1983; taking you aback. The picture was of a gorgeous blonde woman named Mary Winchester who died in a house fire. Her picture was surrounded by other house fire deaths and linked by red thread to multiple of the demon and witch articles. You walked over to his dresser where there was a picture of a much younger John holding two boys who you assumed were Sam and Dean. 

“You guys were cute kids,” you told Sam, showing him the picture.

He smiled sadly at it. 

After a brief melancholy pause, you spoke up. “So, what’s your deal? College? Law school? Part-time hunter? That doesn’t add up.”

“My, uh, my dad raised us as hunters after my mom passed,” he explained. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sitting on the bed next to him. “Was her death the reason your dad became a hunter?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure what happened; I wasn’t even a year old yet. Dean remembers way more than I do, but he said our dad was never the same. Anyway, two years ago, dad and I got into a fight. I wanted to go to school, and he wanted me to stay and hunt. So I left.”

“Dean said you got a girl now? Was that the voicemail you were listening to a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, actually. Jess. She’s— she’s amazing. I’m excited to get back to her.” You could see how much he loved her just in how his face lit up talking about her.

“I’m sure you are,” you smiled. 

“So, what about you? What’s your story?” he nudged your shoulder with his. 

“Meh, not much to tell.”

“Aw, come on—” Sam rebutted. 

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “I’ve just always hunted. Never knew anything different.”

“I know that’s difficult.” His tone became serious again. 

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I enjoy it. Brings me a little peace, y’know?” you shrugged.

“You sound like Dean.”

“Speaking of which, he’s taking forever and a day in the shower,” you joked. You bounced over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear on it about to knock. “Hey, princess—” 

You were cut off by the door opening and stumbled into Dean’s chest. 

He caught you by the shoulders. “You were saying?” 

You shoved off him, annoyed by his smug smile and quirked eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Dean began, “I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?”

“No,” Sam said.

“A burger would be great,” you told him. 

“Wasn’t asking you,” Dean said. 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Aframian’s buying, anyway, so what difference is it to you?”

“Nothing, it’s just fun to rile you up.” He winked and smiled at you, amused at your aggravated expression before closing the door behind him. 

You shook your head. “Dick.”

Sam laughed. “You get used to him.” He went back to his phone, relistening to his girlfriend’s voicemail. He furrowed his brows before pressing it to his ear. “What?” He stands up, catching your attention. “What about you?” He huffed when he hung up the phone, rushing over to the closed curtains to peek out. 

“What, what is it?” You crossed your arms.

“Police got Dean. We need to leave.”

“Shit.”

Sam quickly pulled away from the window which you understood meant you had company. You hid under the bed, anxiously waiting to see the officer’s boots make their way into the bathroom. You began scooching yourself out from under the bed frame, and when he’d slammed the door to the bathroom open, you and Sam snuck out of the room. Thankfully, Sam had Dean’s keys, and the two of you sped away from the motel in Dean’s Impala.

“Well, shit,” you breathed, your heart still beating quickly.

Sam huffed out a laugh, still recovering from the adrenaline.

***

You and Sam were headed to Breckenridge Road to hopefully figure out how to stop Constance. Since you had torched the body, then maybe something in her house was keeping her alive. 

After Dean’s arrest, the two of you were intent on getting Dean and getting the hell out of Jericho before anyone else had a run-in with the cops. 

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered quickly. “Hello?” He tossed a look your way. “Actually, it was (Y/N)’s idea.” You had no doubt he was referring to the fake shooting you’d called in to the police department so Dean had an opportunity to escape. You motioned for him to give you the phone.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you told him once you had the phone to your ear. 

“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart,” Dean’s gruff voice responded.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going to listen. Hey, give the phone back to Sam. I gotta talk to him.”

“And why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m offended, babe,” you quipped. 

“Don’t objectify me.”

“Hey, you started it with the whole ‘sweetheart’ thing.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), give him the—”

“Shit!” you screamed, dropping the phone as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Constance,” he replied coolly. He kept a level head despite the tense situation. 

You looked up at the rearview mirror to see her in the backseat. “Fuck.” 

Constance’s hauntingly beautiful voice melodically flowed from the backseat. “Take me home.”

“No,” Sam answered. 

You saw her glare as the doors started to lock themselves. You whipped around to start trying to reopen them. The car began jerking forward. 

“What the hell, Sam? Stop!” you told him. 

“It’s not me.”

You looked over to see him holding his hands up. The steering wheel was moving itself. You turned back to the door, struggling to get the lock open. Eventually, you wound up at Constance’s abandoned Breckenridge Road house. The car’s rumble quieted and the headlights turned off. 

“Don't do this,” Sam pleaded, still holding his hands up. 

The ghost flickered, sounding sad. “I can never go home.”

‘That’s it.’

“You're scared to go home,” you realized. When you turned around to look at her, she had disappeared. Before you could even turn back around, you felt the bench seat reclining forcefully. 

“Sam!” 

Constance sat atop him, begging him to hold her. 

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

“You will be,” she hummed. “Just hold me.”

You fumbled for your gun hidden under your top. Before you could fully aim at her, you felt your back make brief contact with the Impala’s door before flying through the air. You barely registered Sam yelling your name as you groaned in pain on the dead grass beneath you. 

You rolled around, trying to regain your wits and recover when you heard the sound of multiple gunshots. 

“Sam!”

“It’s me, (Y/N), stay down!” Dean yelled. 

Suddenly, Dean’s car burst through the front of the abandoned house. You pushed yourself up off the ground; your joints and back aching in protest. 

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean called after the car. 

‘I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking,’ you thought. 

The two of you climbed over the rubble to the passenger’s side window. 

“I think,” Sam responded weakly. 

“Can you move?” you asked.

“Yeah. Help me?” He reached out to his brother. 

Dean pulled Sam through the window of the car. “There you go.”

You turned to see Constance looking sadly at a picture she was holding before slamming it to the floor. She glared at the three of you harshly, forcing a bureau across the floor to pin you to Dean’s car. 

You groaned in pain once again as Dean struggled to push the furniture off. You stopped your struggle at the lights flickering and the sound of water rushing down the stairs. 

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” the echoey voices of Constance’s children sang. They appeared behind her, hugging her as she screamed. In a surge of energy, Constance and her children began melting to the floor. Constance’s resounding scream seemed to get louder and louder with each passing moment, the flickering of the lights becoming more and more intense. You squeezed your eyes shut until the screaming subsided, suddenly feeling the pressure on your stomach relieved. All that was left of Constance and her children was a puddle of murky water on the floor. 

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said while you rubbed your stomach, recovering from the pressure of the bureau. 

Sam nodded. “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the chest where he’d been injured by Constance.

Sam laughed despite the pain. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey. Saved your ass,” Dean commented, starting to look over his beloved Impala. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you.” 

You giggled at Sam and Dean’s banter. Sam and Dean started to get back into the car, and you idled awkwardly. 

“Whatcha doin’? Let’s go.” Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Go where?” you asked, feeling stupid. 

“I think we make a pretty solid team. You should tag along.”

“What?” Dean asked while you started shaking your head. 

“No, no, I shouldn’t—” 

“You should. I’m going back to school, and I know Dean’s gonna be lost without me trying to find my dad.”

A slow smile crossed your face. “Thank you. That’d be nice, actually.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. And with that, the three of you set off to drop Sam back off at college. 

***

The thing Dean so desperately wanted to tell Sam that he couldn’t tell you earlier was that his dad had left coordinates to a place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado in the journal he’d left behind in Jericho. John was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. 

“AC/DC. I like it,” you said from the backseat. 

“Thanks.” Dean cracked what seemed like a genuine, lopsided smile at you for the first time in the rearview mirror. “Sam thinks it’s mullet rock.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than Kiss and Poison.”

“True that.” Despite the fact that he was agreeing with you about something as mundane as music, his tone was still guarded.

“How far is Blackwater Ridge?” you asked Sam, who was looking over a map. 

“About 600 miles,” he answered.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean cut in. 

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Dean, I, um…”

The older brother deflated. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam tried to reason.

Dean nodded, disappointed, and returned his attention to the road. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

The mood in the car had turned tense, awkward, and sour, and remained that way for the rest of the drive back to Sam’s college.

“Dude, you go to Stanford?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sheepishly.

“Alright, smartass, look at you.” You nudged his shoulder with your balled fist. 

Dean rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment complex. 

You and Sam got out of the car. You gave him a quick hug goodbye before climbing down into the front seat. 

Sam leaned into your rolled-down window. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Despite Sam’s chipper tone, Dean’s disappointment was clear. “Yeah, all right.”

Sam patted the car door twice before turning away. 

“Sam?” Dean called before his brother could get too far. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

You felt a pang in your heart at Dean’s indirect attempt to try to convince Sam to stay. 

Sam nodded with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.” 

Dean then began to drive off. 

The two of you didn’t get any more than five minutes down the road before you felt something was off. You could no longer hear the steady ticking of Dean’s watch breaking through the almost awkward silence. Sure enough, when you looked over at the wrist he had perched atop the steering wheel, the watch was stopped. 

“Dean,” you said. You tapped his watch’s face with your fingernail. 

He matched your worried glance, immediately turning the car around.

The car had barely stopped before you and Dean were leaping into action. You let Dean take the lead in rushing up to Sam’s apartment. 

Dean kicked the door to the apartment open, calling out to his brother in the process. You gasped when you caught sight of flames licking at the ceiling coming out from what you assumed was Sam’s bedroom. 

You heard Sam’s voice weakly calling his girlfriend’s name as you rushed to get him out of the smoldering room. You just barely caught sight of a body bleeding from the stomach burning on the ceiling before you and Dean dragged a screaming Sam out of his bedroom and away from the fire. You fought him every step of the way out of his apartment complex. 

It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and the police to start asking questions. A small crowd had gathered to gawk at Sam’s smoldering apartment. Your face was steely as you watched the firefighters carry Jess out in a body bag. You and Dean took the brunt of the questions the police had, allowing Sam as much space as he needed. 

You and Dean soon headed over to the Impala where Sam was packing up the weapons cavity of the trunk. Both of you seemed too scared to ask Sam what was running through his head, and neither of you had any idea what to say. 

Sam threw a shotgun into the weapons box before muttering, “We got work to do,” and slamming the trunk shut.

You threw a look at Dean, who shook his head in response. Biting the inside of your cheek, you followed the boys into the car. As the three of you left Sam’s apartment in the rearview mirror, you realized the course of your formerly relatively boring life was changing very quickly. 

‘Damn you, John. Wherever you are.’

[caitlynskitten]

Okay so not a polyshade idea but it does involve the other girls.

I love the idea that Enid is an exhibitionist freak. She loves fucking Wednesday in front of others. She feels no shame in dicking down her girlfriend when others are around. Maybe it’s an alpha thing, maybe Wednesday has had too much on an influence on her. Either way, Enid feels no shame if someone sees her fucking her girlfriend.

The first time it happened, it was purely by accident. Enid was on top of Wednesday, fucking her face down ass up when Yoko barged into their room without knocking. She only needed some nail polish. Yoko wasn’t expecting to see Enid buck ass naked, railing Wednesday from behind and she’s just all like ‘I… uh, I only came to get my nail polish. I left it here the other night.’

Both Wednesday and Yoko expect Enid to stop, squeal and cover them both up, but instead, she just continues to fuck Wednesday. In fact, she starts thrusting harder, all the while telling Yoko where her nail polish is. Wednesday doesn’t know why she finds the fact that Yoko is seeing her so vulnerable so hot, but as Yoko awkwardly tries to get her nail polish, Wednesday starts throwing it back as she feels her orgasm approaching.

After that, it seems to become a repeating occurrence. When they all went to a party off campus, Divina walked in on Enid fucking Wednesday’s mouth against the wall upstairs when she was going to the toilet. As the poor siren is trying to do her business, she’s forced to hear the sounds of Enid cumming on Wednesday’s face. When she leaves the bathroom, Yoko tells her Enid and Wednesday had to head back for some reason.

Bianca finds Enid railing Wednesday in the changing room showers after fencing class. She’s pretty sure she’ll never get the sounds of Wednesday begging for Enid’s cum out of her head.

After all these events, the girls try to come up with a warning system so they can avoid walking in on the two. It, however, never seems to work. They always find them in the oddest of places. Weathervane toilets, Jericho woods.

And, much to Yoko’s horror, she’ll never forget the time she returned to her dorm to join Divina and Enid for their girls night to find Divina absent and Enid pounding Wednesday on her bed.

Wait that’s honestly so funny 😭😭😭😭 poor girls they cannot catch a break! But it seems like Enid is doing this just to fuck with them now. This is Enid’s way of getting back at them when they teased her for being too vanilla to which Enid takes control of that and proves them wrong.

Unrelated, I think Enid would facefuck Wednesday so hard and rough that when she cums she just hold’s Wednesday’s head and cums deep in her throat. Wednesday can feel Enid’s dick pulsating in her motion and can feel her ejaculating. Enid just looks at her and says “Come on, Wends. Just a few more.” The raven, without pulling Enid’s cock out of her mouth, nods in excitement and Enid goes back to face fucking her.

[lethica-nightborne]

*Lethica plops Marius down on his bed, next to the still sleeping form of Jericho. She scratches his back and sits down on the bed herself*

Good kitty

*She looks over to the scarecrow, frowning*

Did Jericho have another rough night?

[sydsaint]

Oh my jealous baby boy <3

Summary: After a rough breakup with Tyler, the reader finds herself spending more and more time with Daniel. Tyler acts like he doesn't care, but seeing reader with Daniel awakens something inside of him.

AEW is in the idyllic Pacific North West for the month. Rain pours down onto the bay city of Seattle as Tyler finally arrives to his hotel after a long flight from the East coast. He trudges into the cozy lobby of the hotel, grumbling to himself about the seemingly unrelenting downpour of rain outside.

Tyler stops in the lobby and gives himself a second to peel off his damp jacket as well as pull out his phone. He is busy getting his jacket off when a sweet voice catches his attention. Tyler's gaze flits up and over to the front door of the lobby as you step inside with a casual smile plastered on your face and Daniel Garcia at your side.

"Umbrella's are for losers, Danny." You giggle at Garcia and pull off your beanie from your head. "Didn't you notice that no one around here is using one?" You ask him playfully.

"Alright, alright." Daniel chuckles and wipes some excess water from his face. "I get it. Umbrella are for tourists and losers. And I ain't no loser."

Tyler doesn't take it eyes off you as you make your way across the lobby floor with Daniel trailing you. The two of you head up to the front desk and check into your respective rooms.

"We're on the same floor!" You turn to Daniel once you're checked-in. "Nice!"

Daniel matches your smile, and the two of you head off to the elevator at the side of the lobby. Tyler waits until the elevator closes and begins its accent before he moves again. His teeth grind in his mouth, his jaw clenched in anger.

Later into the night, you and Daniel are headed into the arena for Dynanite together when you spot Tyler also coming into the building.

"Hey, Ty!" You offer your ex a friendly wave from Daniel's side.

"Hey, YN." Tyler stops in his tracks and nods at you though his gaze is fixed on Daniel. "New travel partner?" He switches his attention back to you.

You glance at Daniel for a second before nodding at Tyler. "Yeah. Danny and I have been hanging out." You confirm. "How are you? I saw you hanging out with Jericho these past few weeks. How's that going?" You ask him.

"It's been fine." Tyler shrugs, being his usual nonchalant and stoic self.

"Right...well, we should get going." You bounce on your heels awkwardly. "Nice running into you, Ty." You flash another friendly smile before you and Daniel walk off.

Tyler nods and watches you walk off with Daniel. His jaw twitches as he watches Daniel linger near you just a bit too close for comfort.

Once Daniel is sure that Tyler is no longer within hearing distance he glances down at you. "Didn't he break up with you?" He asks you.

"Tyler? No. Well...it was a mutual split. Why?" You shake your head.

"I don't know. Bro just seemed kind of hostile, that's all." Daniel shrugs. "He was mean-mugging me while you weren't looking." He huffs out a breath.

Your eyebrows bounce in slight surprise. "i don't think that's what he was doing, Daniel." You assure him. "Tyler's face just looks like that most of the time is all."

"If you say so." Daniel shrugs it off.

The time comes around in the show when you've got a match scheduled against Mariah May.

"You sure that you don't want me to go out there with you?" Daniel asks you playfully as you're getting ready to head out.

"Sorry, Danny. But no pretty boys out for my matches." You tease him with a laugh. "You can walk me down to the curtain though."

Daniel flashes an excited grin and rushes to open the door for you. You giggle at his antics and step out into the hall with him. The two of you head down to the curtain and Daniel leaves you at the tunnel entrance.

"I'll wait up for you after the show." Daniel in forms you. "We can grab dinner after, yeah?" He asks. "My treat?"

"Daniel Garcia!" You muse. "Are you asking me out on a date?" You ask him.

Daniel chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I figured that it was about time I asked you out." He laughs.

"I'd love dinner later, Danny." You agree to his offer of dinner. "Shoot me a text later and we can make plans, yeah?" You ask him.

"Yeah, got it. Go kick some ass out there, YN!" He encourages you before sending you on your way through the tunnel.

You head out to the ring and join Mariah for your match. The two of you go at it for a while, but Toni Storm keeps on distracting you. Mariah keeps the upper hand the whole match which causes you to grow more desperate for a win by the second. You take a chance near the end of the match when Mariah is lying on the mat and climbs up to the top rope. You attempt to hit Mariah with a 450 splash but Toni grabs Mariah's ankle at the last moment and pulls her out of the way. You try and alter your trajectory but end up coming down on your ankle hard.

"Shit!" You curse and grab at your ankle.

Mariah sees your injury and is quick to capitalize on it. She grabs ahold of your ankle and forces you to submit to her. The bell rings and Mariah slips out of the ring to celebrate with Toni, leaving you to your injured ankle.

"YN, are you okay?" Aubrey, the referee for the match comes over to check on you.

"I don't know." You wince. "I came down on my ankle pretty hard." You frown and try to get to your feet.

Pain shoots up you ankle and you wince again, barely able to put pressure on it. Aubrey goes to call for some help, but someone else beats her to it. You sit down on the edge of the apron just as Tyler comes sprinting down to the ring from backstage.

"YN!" Tyler rushes to check on you. "Are you okay?" He stops at your side to console you.

"Tyler?" You are a little surprised to find your ex coming out to aid you. "What are you doing out here? Where you watching my match?" You ask him.

Tyler nods, not one bit concerned with the implications of his confirmation that he was watching your match from backstage. "Come on, let me help you backstage" He offers his arm to you.

"Yeah, okay." You nod and slip down to the floor.

Tyler helps you up the ramp and back through the tunnel. When the two of you come through the tunnel to the backstage area you find Daniel there waiting for you.

"YN!" Daniel rushes over to you. "I was just hanging out with Matt when I heard that you got hurt! Are you okay?" He asks on you.

You nod and lean on Garcia now that he's standing next to you. Tyler grinds his teeth as you step away from him and glares at Daniel.

"I came down on my ankle pretty hard." You frown. "I should probably go get it looked at. Just to be safe." You add.

"Yeah, of course." Daniel nods and holds his arm out to guide you. "Come on, I'll walk you down there." He offers.

You nod and take Daniel's arm. Before the two of you walk off, you turn back to a waiting Tyler. "Thanks for helping me out of the ring, Ty." You thank him. "But seriously, Tyler. We broke up three months ago. You don't have to keep checking up on me. Or watching my matches."

"Right." Tyler nods and switches the weight of his feet. "Are you sure that you're going to be okay?" He asks you. "I know we aren't together anymore. But that doesn't mean I don't still care about you." He insists.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure." You insist with a nod. "Daniel and I should get going." You dismiss yourself.

Tyler nods and watches Daniel help you out of the room. You stick close to Garcia, leaning on him for support as you go. Seeing you so close to Garcia ignites a fire within Tyler that he hasn't felt in a long time. Jealousy. Does he have any right to be feeling this way? No. But that doesn't change the fact that seeing you with Daniel makes Tyler want to put his fist through a wall.

Later in the night, Tyler is getting ready to head back to the hotel when he spots you out in the parking lot. You've got a pair of crutches with you, and medical tape on your lower leg near your ankle. Daniel trails at your side carrying your bags out to the rental car for you.

"Thanks, Danny." You thank Garcia for his help.

"Yeah, I got you, boo." Daniel nods. "You still in the mood to go out for dinner?" He asks you. "We could always order some takeout and chill at the hotel if you're not feeling it." He suggests.

You nod and lean against the car so you're not putting pressure on your now-injured ankle. "Yeah, takeout sounds nice. There's this new movie streaming that I've been wanting to watch." You remember suddenly.

"Sounds like a date then." Daniel beams and comes around to the passenger side of the car to get the door for you.

On the other side of the parking lot, Tyler curses the air and shakes his head. "Fuck!" He growls to himself. "She's gone, isn't she? And it's all my fucking fault. God, I'm such an idiot!" He runs a hand through his hair.

[dudeshusband]

my recommendations for seeing dean actually act are bandolero!, rough night in jericho, the young lions, rio bravo (imo his best work), airport, and career (i don't like it as a movie but dean's acting is pretty good)

[deanmartingifs]

Rough Night in Jericho, 1967

[jinn-mori]

Seven Deadly Headcanons

Or seven thoughts I have about the Seven Deadly Sins.

Ban has definitely gone Gordon Ramsey on Meliodas at some point for not only his terrible cooking but also because he can't organize a kitchen for shit.

Ban spent several nights reorganizing the Boar Hat's kitchen and has a system for keeping things tidy. Meliodas once messed with this organization system and Ban's response was putting up a sign that said Meliodas was banned from the kitchen. The ban was lifted only when Meliodas put things back in their place. He's banned from cooking but not from being in the kitchen.

Due to his rough circumstances growing up, Ban is very insistent on the Sins getting their three meals a day. He'll even make accommodations or adjustments to dishes to make sure that they can appeal to others. No one is going hungry when Ban's around. Even Gowther - who probably doesn't need to eat due to him being a doll - is not immune from this.

Gowther has a soft spot for romance novels and he and Merlin have a lil' book club where they discuss their current reads. Escanor and Diane joined in eventually.

I feel that most of the Sins would be bilingual multilingual headcanons my beloved . Meliodas, Gowther, and Merlin would know the demon's language. Meliodas would try learning the goddesses' language because of Elizabeth and Merlin would already know it and she'd probably know Welsh. King would know the fairy's language and whatever Liones' vernacular is. And while Ban may not be as fluent in it, he's trying to learn the fairy's language from Elaine and King. And yes, Benwick would be a bilingual kingdom and you can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands. Also, Diane would know both Liones vernacular and the giants' language. Actually, King would also know the giants' language. Escanor would know multiple human languages.

Ban was lowkey having the mother of all panics when Elaine was pregnant because he didn't want to mess up as a parent and wanted Lancelot to have a good childhood. So when Lancelot and Jericho disappeared, that time was just really rough for him because emotions are a bitch and he was just constantly blaming himself. If he had done something, then his son wouldn't have disappeared.

During Lancelot's disappearance, Ban developed a tradition of pouring out a bottle of Aberdeen on the night of his son's disappearance. Also, he was kind of forced into more healthy ways of coping because without his immortality, he couldn't fall back into self-harm. And he couldn't drink himself senseless because he had a kingdom to lead as the king of Benwick.

[wintervalewritersecond]

nightmares - xavier thorpe

requested: yes! Hii! I love your fics and I saw that your requests for Wednesday are open so I’d like to request something. Could I please ask for one with Xavier x f!reader in which reader comforts him after one of his nightmares about the monster? Maybe she goes to look for him and finds him in his art studio after he accidentally hurt himself with his paintings, so she patches him up, hugs him and reassures him that everything will be alright? I really felt bad for him and I believe his nightmares were overlooked, also I love reverse comfort sm. Take your time and have a good day! 💕

AN: hi! of course <3 i feel like that as well. i think it is pretty similar as to how wednesday has visions, except that his revolve more around the hyde itself and the fact that it is during the night/when he has to rest. thank you for your requesy and i hope you have an amazing day as well! <3

wordcount: 1,708 warnings: she/her pronouns for reader, nightmares, the hyde, scars/injuries, not platonic, but reader and xavier are not in an official relationship just yet, sad xavier

Xavier has been changing lately, and not for the better. Your worries are confirmed once you find him in his art studio, exhausted, wounded, and needing some attention.

The second the bell rings, Xavier jumps up, shoving everything in his backpack before hurrying away. You let out a sigh, slowly packing your stuff before following the rest of your class out of the way. Xavier has been acting strange lately. He would send you every single excuse to not come over, insisting that he is tired or that he has to study. You do not blame him for this though; you noticed. You noticed how the bags under his eyes got darker, how it seemed like his energy got lower each day, and how he stopped talking to everyone around him. Not even Ajax could get a word out of him.

But just because you understood, it doesn't mean that you aren't worried. It has been weeks since you had your weekly hang-out with Xavier. You miss him, you miss how he used to be. You have been meaning to find him to ask him how he really is doing, yet he always seems to disappear the second you get close.

Your walk through Ophelia Hall was quiet. It seems like everyone else went to chill in the Quad or maybe even went to Jericho. Your mind is too full to go out and have fun, no matter how much you would want to. No one knows what Xavier is going through, yet everyone agrees that he needs help.

Time goes by as you sit in the Quad again, eating dinner with others. You see the faces of most of your friends, but one is missing. Has Xavier not shown up for dinner either? You grab an extra few containers of food, stuffing it in your tote bag before heading off to his dorm.

You knew that it has been rough for him to suddenly not have a roommate anymore. Rowan had been expelled for some weird reason, leaving Xavier alone in his room. You knock on the wooden door, the bag heavy on your shoulders.

Nothing.

No shuffling, no voices, nothing.

After going to his dorm, you check the Quad again, maybe you missed him. But, he still isn't there. You checked if he was at the Archery training field, but there is no sign of Xavier everywhere. You even entered the Nightshade library to see if he was hiding in there, but you were only met with an empty room.

Wait, what if he is in his art studio?

You sling the tote bag back over your shoulder, gripping your jacket tight as you exit through the Nevermore gates and into the woods.

Not a lot of people enter the woods that lie next to the school, but it just so happens to be Xavier his favorite place. He had turned an old shack into his own personal art studio, filled with paint, canvasses, easels, and sketches. It was his place, one that he didn't need to share with anyone. But lucky for you, he does share it with you.

The path slowly gets more narrow the closer you get to the shed. It is hidden in the middle of the woods. People that enter it, would not go nearly as far as where the shed is located. After pushing the bushes to the side, you see it. He has to be here.

You get closer and closer to the small, wooden building and you notice that the chains around the door have been unlocked. A-ha.

"Xavier?" You knock on the door. "I brought you food? I didn't see you at dinner, so-"

The door abruptly opens, revealing your friend. He quickly takes your hand, pulling you inside before closing the door behind you, locking it with yet another lock.

"Why are you here?"

"You weren't at dinner," you repeat. "I don't want my best friend to starve."

You hold up your white bag with a small smile. This has been the most that Xavier has talked to you in a while. You take some of the containers out of your bag.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

You stop in your tracks, looking up at the tall boy as you furrow your eyebrows. Xavier, not hungry? That did not happen often. Especially considering he didn't eat at all today. You place the small container that you were holding on his table before letting out a sigh.

"Okay, but I also came here for something else. What happened?"

It is his turn to be confused now.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping, I have not seen you eat at breakfast, lunch or dinner, you don't talk to anyone as you always disappear."

He stays quiet, staring at a splotch of paint on the floor. He can't openly talk about his feelings. For as long as he can remember, he has hidden whatever problem he had, making sure that it wouldn't reach the masses of people that looked up to his father. What would he say if he knew that Xavier had problems?

You notice his silence as you step closer to him, yet still, make sure there is enough distance. You know about his struggles, even though he doesn't talk a lot about his father. His eyes are still fixated on the ground.

"All I want to say is that you don't have to tell me anything specific. All I would like to hear is if there is something going on, a simple yes or no. No specifics, no names, nothing. I'm just worried about you and I want you to know that it's okay to feel bad-"

That is all he needed to hear.

Those words are all it took for him to crumble, throwing himself in your arms as he pulls you close, his grip tight around your frame. You are fast to respond, wrapping your own arms around him as you run your hands up and down his back. His head is resting on your head as the rest of his body is shaking. You can even feel his chin trembling.

"Xavier?"

You slowly guide him to the big chair that rests in the corner of his studio, still holding him close. Once he sits, you slowly untangle yourself from him, though still holding on to his hands.

"Hey, you're fine. I'm here, okay?"

He doesn't dare look up, his eyes filled with tears and his hands still shaking. It hurts to see him like this. So sad and helpless, and you have no idea what you can do for him. On his neck are also scratches, looking red and irritated.

"You do not have to tell me anything, just... Just know that you can."

You hand him the containers of food. Xavier takes it, muttering a soft 'thank you' before slowly taking a bite of the pasta. You made sure to take everything that you know he loves.

"I can clean up those wounds for you," you offer, your hands already in your bag to grab your water bottle and napkin.

He only nods as he sits still, slowly taking bites of the food as you wipe away some of the blood from the scratches.

"I'm sorry."

You look at him, stopping your movements. He's sorry?

"I should have talked to you," he whispers. "I have been an asshole, and I should have just been normal and-"

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't blame yourself," you smile at him. "I have just been worried, that's all."

A tear rolls down his cheeks before he angrily wipes it away.

"The nightmares came back," he mumbles. "I haven't slept normally in days. It has been horrible and there is nothing I can do about it. And- and Kinbott told me to paint what my dreams were. Paint them to get them out of my head."

You nod understandingly, your hand resting on his knee.

"And I did. I drew that horrible thing-" he points to a canvas hidden in the back of the studio. "Over and over again. Some monster. And then, the second I wasn't looking, it came out of the painting. Scratched me good."

So not only has he been stuck in a literal nightmare, but he also has gotten attacked by whatever it was.

"You know what," you stand up, your hand reaching out to him. "Let's take the food, go to one of our dorms, and watch a movie. If you want."

It is the least you can do to try and cheer him up. He looks up at you, slightly confused. You are not yelling at him, blaming him for being upset, for ignoring you for days in a row. You... understand.

He closes the container, taking your hand with a smile before pushing himself up as well.

-

Luckily, no one had seen you as you sneaked behind Xavier. You were not supposed to be in their dorms, especially not at this time. But you didn't care. Xavier needs you.

You sit him down on the bed before placing the laptop down on his nightstand.

"You pick something, okay?"

Xavier smiles before nodding, quickly picking a movie as you open up some of the food containers, handing them to your friend. He had barely eaten today.

You sit down next to him, taking off your sweater before scooting closer to him. Xavier his mood has been improving rapidly already. He is not alone in this big, dark room anymore. He has you.

After half the movie, he finished his food, placing the empty containers on the floor before slowly wrapping his arm around you. You let out a giggle, moving a bit closer to him. You have been dancing around each other for a while now. It was pretty well known that you liked each other.

Another part of the movie passes as Xavier his eyes slowly start drooping. His tiredness is catching up to him, and being in a warm and comfortable bed surely helps in making him more tired. Awake one moment, asleep the next.

A smile is on your face once you see him sleeping. He deserves it. It has been a while. You press a kiss on his temple, snuggling closer to him as you pull the blanket over you both.

Hopefully, it helped him. Even if just a bit.

[alexusonfire]

Rose Petal Cheeks

Gwen Characters x Reader with rosacea

A/n: Hi everyone! I know it's been a hot minute, so I figured I'd attempt to get back in the saddle with a little self-indulgent piece. For those of you that don't know, I have severe rosacea on my entire face, and for the past couple months especially my self-esteem has really been taking a hit because of it. I thought a little pick-me-up would be nice, and if you have rosacea or any other skin condition that gets you down some days, this one is for you too! 🩷 Characters are Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Jane Stevens, and Lucifer.

Larissa Weems:

Larissa is a pro when it comes to skin and beauty care, even has a few personal connections in the industry so she can set you up with Jericho's Top Dermatologist at a much lower price than usual. She's always looking into new cleansers and moisturizers; she's very knowledgable about ingredients and won't let you near certain ones as she knows they're not good for your sensitive skin

Will absolutely give you mini-facials in the comfort of your own home, laying you back on her lap while she gently massages serums and creams into your skin. She creates an entire atmosphere with lowered lights and relaxing music, even setting up some aromatherapy to really set the vibe for you

If you decide you want some coverage during the day, she'll also help you pick a good foundation and color correcting primers that won't irritate your skin further

Constantly has a humidifier going in your bedroom, so your face won't dry out at night, and even buys you a mini face mister to carry with you in case you're feeling a bit dry throughout the day. She also makes sure you drink water to stay hydrated, as she knows that dryness will flare up your red

She loves to pepper your nose and cheeks with kisses, and constantly reassures you that you are still beautiful, and that your skin doesn't make you any less worthy of love or affection. On the harder days, she'll simply keep you curled up beside her, distracted with your favorite movie or game, as she knows you won't be much for going out in the public eye

Brienne of Tarth:

Brienne knows what it's like to be whispered about, to have people stare and sometimes even outright comment about her appearance, so it infuriates her when she sees the townsfolk doing the same to you

You've been asked it all; is it a disease? What illness do you have? What's wrong with your face? Are you hot? Are you burnt? Is it contagious?- Brienne will come to your defense every time without fail, either simply pulling you away from the offending person, or loudly telling/scaring them off with her arm still wrapped around you

One time she even went so far as to almost get in a physical altercation, squaring up with a drunk man before you dragged her away and kissed her silly for standing up for you

She's not always the greatest with her words, but she'll bring you flowers and call you beautiful on your rough days, and never hesitates to gently hold your face; she doesn't realize just how big that is for you, as most people shy away from touching you simply because of the red tinge to your skin

Jane Murdstone:

Jane will admitedly be a little rude at first. She just simply Does Not Know what rosacea is, and therefore is a bit of a snob about it, outright asking you what it is and why you haven't treated it yet

Then she becomes curious, in a slightly less-offensive, more academic way. She reads up on it, coming across many salves and tinctures that have been said to "heal". Of course, once you explain that it's not something you can exactly get rid of, she becomes much more invested in finding things that will simply soothe it

She can be a little overwhelming some days, shoving books and creams at you, and won't always understand why you don't just cover it up if it bothers you so much. It will take some time, and many conversations, but at the end of the day she's only so intense about it because she cares, and doesn't like seeing you upset about it

Will also Cut A Bitch if they dare make a nasty comment to you. Everyone in town knows not to mess with the Murdstones, and once it's made clear that you're "with her", people tend to steer clear of you regardless of your appearance

Jan Stevens:

While other Gwen characters find you attractive despite your rosacea, Jan is the only one to find you attractive because of it. She is more or less delighted by your appearance, as she's never been one for modern beauty standards. The first time she lays eyes on your rosy face her very breath is taken away, and she is instantly enamoured

She's delicate with her questions, making sure to never ask you too much too quickly. She does go a little overboard with the compliments, so much so that in the beginning you think she might be making fun of you. You're also not sure you like so much attention to be drawn to your redness, so some of it is also a bit of defensiveness. Jan pays little mind to it, and simply keeps up with telling you how pretty your particular shade of red is today

She takes to calling you her "sweet rose", and you really can't help liking it. She's just so genuine when she says it, while pressing a tender kiss to your cheek or running her finger softly along your chin

She encourages you not to cover up if you don't want to, completely understanding that it only irritates your skin further. Oddly you also feel less beautiful under concealer and foundation, once telling Jan you felt like it was "putting lipstick on a pig". Jan of course was not pleased with this comparison, and immediately took to overzealously pampering you for the next few days

Lucifer Morningstar:

Lucifer, at the end of the day, genuinely does not care about your rosacea. They've seen, and frequently deal with, the most grotesque beings to ever exist... and you're worried that they're worried about a little redness? Please. Get over there and kiss them, they don't like to be kept waiting.

[rippersz]

LOVING YOU IS BEAUTIFUL:

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(A Larissa Weems x Reader oneshot) (DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT) (Darkfic; Larissa has a very skewed vision of love.)

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Larissa Weems had lost so much in her life.

She lost her innocence due to her mother’s anger. She lost her father to a workplace fire. She lost her inheritance to her brother. She lost her virginity to a girl who was too rough. She lost her family name due to her preference for said girl. She lost the one-who-got-away to a man named Gomez. She lost her friends due to time and distance. She lost her free time because of work. She lost her spark because of age

and she lost her mind because of you.

You…

Oh you…

So sweet… so caring… you looked at her as if she painted Saturn into the sky. As if she aligned the constellations. As if she made the Earth spin.

As if she alone could save you.

And she could, she realized. She could. Yes, Larissa Weems was entirely capable of saving you. Saving you from the world… from the hatred that spilled out of Pandora’s box… from the ardor of others that would never- could never- appreciate you like she did.

Love you, even, like she did.

And she did love you. She did love you. She loved you very much. She loved you so much that she’d do anything for you. She’d conquer the world for you. She’d give up Nevermore for you… but thank goodness she didn’t have to. Thank goodness you’d come in on a rainy night, seeking shelter, stumbling far from Jericho, eyes bright and smile wobbly. Knocking on the main entrance, using the door knockers and pounding as loudly as you could, waking the groundskeeper who alerted her after he figured that you weren’t there to cause harm. And you weren’t of course. You would never harm them… you would never harm Larissa. Especially after she nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to get to the entrance; throwing on a wine red robe over her nightie and showing up with a silk head-wrap around her platinum hair, keeping it in place while she looked over you with a critical eye. Almost immediately she found you to be utterly glorious. Terribly beautiful in your shivering disheveled state, with your hoodie thrown over your head and your leggings soaked through and your sneakers making squeaking sounds on the linoleum as soon as she beckoned you inside. You were suitably questioned… and that soft voice of yours flipped a switch in Larissa’s usually crowded brain; quieting her thoughts, dispelling them for as long as you spoke.

And she had to hear it again. She had to hear you again. She had to listen to you speak for hours - hours on end! - about anything and everything. Not because she really cared about what you had to say but because your lips were so soft and so perfect when they formed those delightful words. And she too, quite liked the blush that ran over your cheeks when she offered a set of dry clothing to you. Though despite your enchanting features and nervous laughter, the last straw was your unexpected love of the outcasts. So curious you were. Asking if they all had different routines… asking if they were protected there… asking if they ever preyed on normies… asking if she was going to prey on you. What a silly little joke, you sweet thing. And what an adorable giggle you let out as soon as she responded - as soon as she told you the truth. ‘Goodness, no’ Larissa had expressed with a wry smile, ‘never unless asked.’ Your sudden hush wrote everything in stone for her.

‘I need her. This woman. She’s mine. She has to be. She’s too precious to be scorned by these monsters.’

And by monsters she meant others. Anyone who wasn’t herself. Anyone who wasn’t Larissa bloody Weems, headmistress of Nevermore academy, seasoned shapeshifter, kind and loving and humorous. For no one else understood things like Larissa. And that meant no one else understood you. Not like she did. Ever.

Such a sentiment, thank the gods, came to fruition quite quickly. And once the time came that you were to be protected, right after a harsh day in which some of the students whispered a bit too much about your presence (being that you weren’t a student or a teacher or anything in between), you’d only put up the smallest fight. ‘It’s for your own good, Y/n. These children are ruthless. Others are ruthless! I cannot risk you getting hurt.’ Larissa was worried when she said those words but as soon as you were settled down in your new home, in the delightful little crawl space between the walls within one of the corners of her room, her anxiety settled. You looked oh so sweet there, resting against the soft blankets and pillows she laid out - shimmering eyes looking up at the fairy lights that she oh so graciously hung some feet above you.

And those tears… why she understood them, too. Her painted lips formed a small ‘o’ as she cooed and shushed you, running her soft thumbs beneath your eyes and catching each tear that fell. ‘Please don’t cry my sweet girl… I’ll be back soon. This key,’ she presented it to you and pushed it into your shaking palm, ‘will allow you to enter my quarters. But it should only be used in case of an emergency. Am I clear, dearest?’ You’d only nodded then, looking at her blankly. Poor thing… her darling was tired. But still - that was never an excuse for bad manners. Larissa’s tongue clicked harshly against the backs of her teeth. ‘Am. I. Clear?’ She said louder, only wishing for you to properly acknowledge her. And you did. Such a good girl for listening! Your little confirmation, your little ‘Yes, Larissa.’ was enough for her.

You, in general, were enough for her.

You read the books she leant you. You colored and sketched and drew in the sketchbooks she bought you. You wrote in the notebooks she gave to you too, always looking away when you had to hand them over at the end of each day - just so she could read through your writing and make sure you weren’t feeling anything less than grateful and comfortable. And when she returned to her quarters after the working day, making sure to enter her bedroom at 4:30 on the dot, she donned more comfortable clothing and unlocked your little home - beckoning for you to join her for the evening. Such sublime memories were made each night; ones she cherished constantly. Sitting in front of the fire together, with your head resting against her calf as she read aloud from a certain novel; watching a TV show with you in her lap, allowing her to braid your hair mindlessly as she lost herself in your gaze, delighting in the little flickers of light she saw flash across your eyes; falling asleep on the couch with her arms wrapped strongly around your midsection and your feet nearly always touching the floor, dangling over the side. Silly girl, she always assumed you were uncomfortable in that position, but you reassured her with a smile and a thumbs up.

That was just another thing she loved about you. Your kindness - your care - your ability to make her feel as though she was doing a good job. Leaving pre-packed meals in your little home before she departed for the work day, sticking a sticky note to each tupperware lid so that you could memorize the shape of each drawn heart. Her affirmations were soft and purposeful. ‘Be good for me, little one. I shall be back soon - before you know it <3’ ‘Remember what that key is for, darling. No, it’s not the one to my heart - you already had that long before the one you have now <3’ ‘Draw a beautiful picture for me today, my sweet. I’ll keep it in the little folder I’ve dedicated to your gorgeous art <3’ And each time you gave the tupperware back to her, she noticed the sticky notes were gone. You were collecting them?! Adorable! But for fear of you stopping your little sneaky operation, Larissa didn’t bring it up. She merely watched the notes disappear day after day.

Though… as time went on… she noticed something.

She noticed everything, so of course it wouldn’t escape her, but there was… there was something. Because along with the notes, along with their vanishing, that glorious familiar spark in your eye began to die out.

It… it faded. Slowly but surely.

Like something was wrong.

But nothing could have been wrong. You were with her for- for years! You were her- her- well. She used so many pet names for you that your actual one slipped her mind from time to time, but even so… she still loved you. She still loved you no matter what. Spark or no spark! You were hers!

…Even as you got greyer… …And sadder… …And even as your smile seemed more and more forced each time she saw it… …You were still beautiful to her… …You were still lovely to her… …She would still rather die than ever leave you… …Her darling… …Hers.

Always.

And no one would know because it was none of their business.

Just yours and hers. As it would always be.

As it was meant to be.

-----

(Strange upload, I know, but I wanted to try something different. If I'm to be a psychological horror girl, I gotta get the writing down as best I can. So this was just an exercise; though I may do other things similar in future. Thanks for reading, if you did. - Ripley x)

(P.S. Heat III already has over 6K words and is very much in the works. Should be out within the next few weeks. Thx lots.)

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[vampwritesstuff]

dating xavier headcanons?Thanks bb

Dating Xavier Thorpe Would Include ~

Hi anon ! Hope you enjoy these hcs ! I’ll totally be adding more as I think of them, so check back every once in a while to see if I’ve added more!

Warnings : swearing, cause I have a dirty mouth lmao

Masterlist

Dating Xavier would include…

Long nights spent in his shed, drawing, studying and just generally having fun together.

Xavier is lowkey possessive of you, but not in a bad way, like yeah he doesn’t like you talking to other guys but he knows where to draw the line. So, possessive, but only when he needs to be.

If you’re generally a shy person, then he’ll help you when in public. Like telling someone your order at the weathervane or asking for help when shopping.

Xavier just adores you, literally every aspect about you is his favorite. Your eyes? Favorite part about you. Your lips? Favorite part about you.

He MELTS anytime you say his name or nickname and especially when you smile at him.

Xavier loves to spoil you, he can’t help it. You like a shirt in a store? He buys it for you to wear on your next date. You find a cute stuffed animal at a carnival? You bet your ass he’s playing until he wins it. Obviously you tell him no and he pouts everytime.

“It’s just a shirt, Xav. I don’t need it, I have plenty.” “But I wanna spoil you.”

He can tell when you’re having a rough day, he knows you so well that he can tell when you haven’t slept well or you’re stressed about homework or exams.

When you haven’t slept well, he’ll let you use him as a pillow to rest your head on during lunch or free time.

If you forgot to study for an important test or do the homework, then he’ll go over key points and information with you or give you some of the answers to at least get a decent grade.

He enjoys drawing you, and you love to pose for him. He’s drawn you so many times, he has like 10 sketchbooks full of just drawings of you.

“Could you move your head to the left?” “Of course, babe.”

CUTEST PETNAMES FOR EACH OTHER OMG. He’ll call you things like darling, or his muse. You’d call him something cheesy, like bear or bubba.

If you’re also an outcast at Nevermore, you’re always sneaking into each others dorms, but usually his since he doesn’t have a roommate.

If you’re a normie in Jericho, you both will always meet up after school and on the weekends for a date. Your go to is usually the Weathervane, but if Tyler is working, you’ll just go to the park instead. Since one time you went on a date while he was working and he wouldn’t stop flirting with you, Xavier almost punched the shit out of him.

Ever since, when Tyler is working, you avoid the Weathervane.

Xavier gets so happy when you play with his hair, could literally fall asleep as you massage his scalp. He’s such a softie and will ask if you could braid his hair or help him put it into a bun.

[mytheoristavenue]

CB Spike Spiegel x Reader 🍋 - Jericho 941R

Kinktober 2024 - V

Gunplay + Facefucking

Summary: You're an entertainer in a club that specializes in particularly illegal back door dealings, and when a nosy bounty hunter comes sniffing around, you have to do what you can to protect your boss.

Warnings: Porn with plot, gunplay, oral (M!receiving), rough, sex worker!reader, MDNI, NSFW

Your hips swayed gently as you sauntered about the club your husband owned, keen eyes scanning the main floor for any goings on. Tonight was a fairly slow one, a Tuesday; a time when many patrons were low on funds after the weekend, or unemployed. Who else would be here on a weeknight? You smiled warmly, relieving a few of your girls home for the night, not seeing much money to be made tonight.

You continued on through the night, lounging with the few clients you had, boozing them up and sucking what money you could from them, occasionally waltzing into the back to see what your man was up to.

"Darling, it's terribly boring this evening," you cooed, leaning dramatically against the doorframe to his office.

"Not for long, my love." he replied, rising from his desk to whisk you over to what he was looking at on his computer. "We're scheduled to have a very special guest tonight." he smirked, nodding to the file he'd acquired of the aforementioned.

"Bounty hunters?" you asked, brows high.

"That's right, and what makes things more interesting is the fact that we have a special delivery tonight as well."

"That isn't good," you noted nonchalantly.

"No, it isn't, but I'm not worried." your husband smiled, smugly falling back into his office chair, pulling you into his lap. "I've got my best girl here to make sure things run smoothly."

"Oh, I wonder who she is?" you giggled, feigning ignorance, squirming a bit to tease him.

"Oh, she's right here," he cooed with a devilish grin. "And I know she'll do so, so good, won't she?" Unseen fingers gingerly danced across you clothed heat, before enveloping it in a sudden grasp, earning a pleasant sigh from you. "Now," he withdrew, repositioning in a way that would signal for you to stand. "Go play nice with the little cowboy while Daddy finishes up his work, hmm?" You giggled as he punctuated his statement with planting a slap on your ass while you began to walk away.

-----

You were now once again lounging, flirting with a few patrons here and there, sipping a martini and eying the door to the establishment closely. Growing impatient, and now holding an empty glass, you excused yourself from a mostly inebriated client and sauntered over to the bar, requesting a fresh drink. As you waited and chatted with the bartender, you noticed one of the bouncers making his way to you. He then knelt down and whispered into your embellished ear.

"The Wild Bunch have arrived." You smirked, eyes darting to the newest inhabitants of the club, two men, one tall with what thought could have been cybernetic implants, and one shorter, well-dressed, yet disheveled at the same time. You quickly whispered hushed instructions to the barkeep on how to handle these men, before turning away to greet them both, fresh martini in hand.

You swayed your way to the entrance where they stood, immediately recognizing them both, not from the warnings your husband gave you, but from their reputation. "Good evening, gentlemen," you cooed, sipping your glass. "I'm afraid we're a tad slow this evening, and most of our ladies have already gone home, but I would be blessed to cater to the both of you." you batted your lashes, looking up through them at the two, but more specifically the younger one. The older cleared his throat into his hand, face flushed, and you decided to zero in on him. You leaned up against him, palms against his chest, and lips pouted, begging to be kissed. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"Y-Yes," he fumbled nervously, eyeing you closely. "We were looking for information on this establishment and it's affiliates." He spoke so professionally, you thought. He must not be new to this line of work.

"Well, I can tell you anything you need to know, sir," you cooed. "But you'll have you pay for a service first. Beyond a greeting, we aren't allowed to converse with loiterers." you lied. If you were going to have to try and protect your club, you at least wanted to profit from it.

"I don't think-" the man answered. "How about a drink instead?" you thought about it for a moment, before deciding that you'd allow it. Before you could respond, however, the other man spoke up, catching your attention.

"How much for an hour in the VIP room?" You were elated to say the least. Not only was your plan coming along perfectly, you only rented out that room in fifteen minute blocks for four million woolongs.

"Sixteen million woolongs." you answered, giggling a little at his grimace. "But that's all-inclusive, that pays for your drinks, a gourmet meal of your choice from our five star menu, and an hour of alone time with your pick of one of our lovely girls."

"Memorized that pitch, huh?" he scoffed before looking to his partner who shrugged. You needed to seal this deal, fast.

"I'll tell you what, I'll even throw in a free meal and drinks on the house for your friend." you smile warmly, turning back to the aforementioned. "And our bartender can give you all the information you need!"

Thoroughly convinced, the younger man reluctantly took out his wallet with a grumble, cleaning it out and handing you all of his cash. You momentarily excused yourself to deposit it into the safe behind the bar before returning, giggling and pulling him along by his wrist. "Better hurry, time is ticking!"

-----

You currently sat of a lush sofa across from the bounty hunter, who was ravenously consuming a plate of Thai beef. "You poor thing, you act like you haven't eater in years." you remarked, swirling the olive in your glass.

"Yeah well," he retorted, swallowing what was in his mouth. "Thanks to you I probably won't eat again for years, so I'm going to enjoy this while I can."

You giggled in response, tipping your glass to your lips. "No rest for the wicked, I suppose."

"Wicked is an understatement," The cowboy scoffed. "This highway robbery."

"Well, a girl's gotta make ends meet, doesn't she?" You ask sweetly, leaning closer.

"So does a man, which reminds me," He flashed you a charming smile, the first one you'd seen. He took out a pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. You softened, fishing a lighter out of your bra, ensuring to flash him a bit of cleavage in the process, before leaning forward and lighting his smoke. "Need some information from you, or I won't make my own ends meet."

"I already told you, the bartender has all the info, I'm just a dancer." You insist coyly.

"Bullshit, I know exactly who you are." He revealed cockily. "(Y/N) (L/N), this club owner's wife."

You furrow your brows, trying to think of a way to talk your way out of this. "Very astute of you, cowboy," You flirted, masking your nerves well. "I have always adored smart guys."

"I can tell," He smirked, kicking his feet up on the table. "That's why you married someone who's been on the lamb for almost a decade. Your husband's good at covering his tracks."

"I don't know anything about my husband's dealings," You feigned. "I'd be just heartbroken if I found out he was involved with the wrong type." You stood up, slinking across the aisle, sitting next to him, flush against him. "I really wish I had anything to offer you, but I just don't."

The bounty hunter didn't buy your story for a second, but he was confident in his partner's detective work, so he decided that for, just this once, pleasure would come before work. He smirked wolfishly, draping an arm around your shoulders. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that," You leaned into him, relieved to see him backing off the interrogation. "But you know, you did clear me out of everything I had. I think it's only fair I get my money's worth."

-----

You sat on the floor between his knees, ignoring the way your skin stuck to the tile, cooing up at him with a sweet grin, pumping him lazily with one fist. "You're so tense, cowboy..." you cooed, enjoying the sanguine expression on his face and the way smoke billowed from between his teeth. "I can only imagine how stressed you must be in your line of work..."

He ignored your flirtatious words, head slumped on the back of the sofa as he lounged, letting you take care of him. "You sure like the sound of your own voice, huh?" He scoffed, a deep relaxed hum coming from his throat."

"If you're suggesting I put my mouth to better use, I'm afraid that'll cost extra, baby." You giggled seductively, milking pearlescence from his tip.

"What kinda discounts you got?" He chuckled lowly, face tilted up to the ceiling.

"Well, let's see..." You coo, pumping him a bit faster, reveling in the moan he choked out. "We have a military discount, senior discount, thirty percent off for company partners..." You listed off. "Which you tick none of those boxes..."

"What about a six-bullet discount?" He laughed, lifting his head to peer down his nose at you, catching your reaction. "You know, like a five-finger discount?" His hand moves to his hip before you can even blink, unholstering a pistol and pressing the barrel to your temple. "Only you give me whatever I want or I put six bullets in this pretty head of yours."

You froze, feeling your blood run cold, fear intensifying when his thumb deactivated the safety and pulled back the hammer in one fluid motion. You gave a sheepish smile, trying to remain calm. "You know what? For my favorite cowboy, it's on the house."

-----

You could already feel the back of your throat beginning to bruise as the bounty hunter loomed over you, standing with you still on the floor, backed against the wall. You were stuck between an unstoppable force and an immovable object, having no choice but to take his abuse and beg fro more.

He had incredible stamina, you had to give him that, one hand holding your chin still, and the other keeping the pistol held to the side of your head, just in case. Your makeup had long since begun to run down your face with your overwhelmed tears, but you remained a trooper, blinking them away, never mentally giving in.

You weren't even putting in the effort anymore, simply letting him have his fun as he pistoned into your throat at breakneck speed. You were surprised he'd managed to last as long as he had, but he was human, and he did have a limit. Eventually, you began to feel his hips sputter, a sign that he wouldn't be able to avoid his orgasm much longer.

With a guttural sigh, he tensed, his hand moving from your jaw to your hair, gripping like a vice as he held you still against his crotch. You could feel the pistol shake against your temple, making your heart drop, knowing that at any moment, his trigger finger could twitch as your mouth filled with thick fluid.

Suddenly, you froze, blood running cold as you felt the gun click, knowing your life had reached its end. Your fears had been realized and he'd pulled the trigger. His raspy, spent laughter filled your ears as he yanked your head back, reveling in your petrified expression. With full cheeks, you watched as he released your hair and holstered his gun, fishing six bullets out of his pocket. "Swallow for me, baby."

Begrudgingly, you did, drinking every last drop of salty essence, grimacing at the taste. Typically, you'd remark how poor his diet was, indicated by how his semen tasted, but you were too afraid- and bewildered. "You really think I'd kill you over a blowjob?" He snorted, backing away and zipping up his pants. "Get real."

Then it finally hit you, you were honestly embarrassed it took so long. "I-It was never loaded." You muttered. "You...you cheated me." You huffed, scrunching your nose angrily.

"Nah, babe, if anything, I just got even." He smirked, finishing off his drink. "Sixteen million woolongs for a meal, some drinks, and a friendly conversation? Now that's a cheat."

With that, the cowboy strolled out of the room, having already spent well over his time limit with you. You simply sat on the floor, trying to gather your bearings. By the time you had collected yourself and followed him out into the main lounge, your husband and his affiliates were already getting cuffed.

Your bartender looked sheepish and you knew he'd spilled. Angily, you stomped over to where he was, pinned against a table, hurling a string of obscenities at him. Suddenly, a familiar chuckle came from behind you and you were bent over the same table, hands behind your back. "Jeez, babe, you really are feisty." The bounty hunter mused, cuffing you as well. You were unable to grasp how your entire life was crumbling around you in a single night, and your confused pout made them both giddy.

"Spike," The taller one snorted, patting his partner's back. "I thought you said you didn't like women with attitudes?"

"Well, Jet," Spike replied cooly. "I guess this broad's alright. She might have a smart mouth, but its also pretty talented."