#the tension between being a hunter of monsters but also finding beauty in what others would deem monstrous... 👀

[syn0vial]

wyll being a monster hunter, but also being enchanted by sightings of mermaids as a boy... shamelessly flirting with an otherworldly githyanki warrior... saying he can't helped but be charmed by a handsome vampire spawn... are y'all seeing what i'm seeing?

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

Leona and the small team reflect on the past over a drink. And this is the last calm moment before the storm.

Hello!

I don't have a separate trigger warning for this chapter. There is only a pleasant conversation going on to make the past clearer :D

Have fun!

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Seven

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I stroll through the maze of the base with springy steps, and my lightness is further enhanced by the fact that during the night, I finally managed to make up for all the minutes of sleep I missed so far, which was topped by doing nothing for the rest of the day. Thanks to my beauty sleep and long relaxation, the vitality seems to have found its way back into my body, and it almost feels strange to finally exist without pain, injuries, and tension within the walls of this god-forsaken establishment. Of course, it’s also undeniable that such a healthy glow graced my face after escaping the clutches of death, which would've been difficult to achieve with other means. And while at first I thought that my exciting little adventure yesterday would at least haunt me a bit, I was positively disappointed in my own subconscious, because it didn’t entertain me with any horrific images in my dreams. After my favorite masked Hunter and I rolled back between the safe walls of the base, I was convinced that even though I had experienced or committed certain types of violence, and I was by no means an angel, I lived with the suspicion that my struggle for survival would leave a deeper mark on me. But nothing else remained after the incident, only the sparks of my enlightenment, which still glow vividly in my mind even now, on my way to Price's office.

The revelations that came with my newfound wisdom were only solidified when I saw the reception committee made up of my two cheerleader boys after our arrival, who welcomed my dirty, bloody, and most of all, worn-out person with the right amount of shock and concern. And from the mixture of surprise and worry on their faces, the warmth in my rough little soul, which I had tried to forget before with every fiber of my being, was renewed. And as MacTavish, cursing in a voice distorted by his strong accent, observed my state that was light years away from pleasant, and as Garrick firmly assured me that they would not torture me to death the next day, it was once again confirmed in me, that it was a good idea to come back and stay with this team.

As I turn into one of the corridors swimming in the light of the setting sun, my destination appears in front of me, to which I received a rather mysterious invitation from the captain during the morning, who didn't bother to explain his intentions as to why he would like to disrupt my day off. Of course, I have a hunch that he's curious about the details of my outing with Riley, and I'm almost glad he called me to have a chitchat, because, despite my revelations, I still have questions that I'd like to ask him. I'd like to believe that my entire field trip was just a figment of the masked Hunter's brain, and that he was behind the plan just by himself, but what kind of superior would Price be if such mischievous things could happen without his knowledge? And the realistic side of my brain demands to know the reason why the bearded man thought it was a good idea to send me into the wilderness for a survival game. Of course, my soul was filled with motivation to selfishly soak up the kindness potentially directed at me and to behave in a slightly nicer way from now on, but I didn’t become a saint overnight, and I didn't forget that I owed this new experience to some kind of agreement.

I knock on the door of Price's office when I arrive and stop in front of it, and when I hear a loud "Come in!" filter through, I wrap my fingers around the doorhandle and open the entrance to the Hunter's cave. And as my eyes take in the picture unfolding in front of me, my eyebrows rise in interest from the small group waiting for me in the room. The Hunters glance at me almost simultaneously as my arrival interrupts them from whatever they were doing in their rather intimate solitude around Price's huge table. And suddenly I have the sneaking suspicion that I've fallen into something that I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with. Especially if I was pulled away from the joys of my already rare me-time due to some work-related nonsense.

"Woods!" MacTavish springs up from his place next to Price's table with intense enthusiasm, and with a huge smile on his face, he beckons me in, inviting me inside. I am no longer surprised by the man's raging energy, but now it somehow irritates me less than when he conveys the same image toward my suffering person from the side of some training site. "Our little survivor has arrived!" The man states, emphasizing my brand new status, and the irrational glee that dominates his features dispels the suspicion that arose in me at the sight of the team.

"I hope I didn't drag myself this far for a meeting, because if I did, I'll stab someone." I note seriously, but I'm not able to get rid of the slight impudence in my voice, because the eager cheerfulness emanating from the Scottish man inevitably transfers to me. And as I step inside and close the door behind me, and my eyes continue to wander to the glasses resting on the table, I'm starting to realize that luckily, I didn't show up in this lovely late afternoon hour for the torture I assumed would take place. And the speculation arises in me that maybe, just maybe, this small gathering was organized in my honor.

At my statement, the faces of the Hunters present also light up with amusement, and it does not escape my attention, as I examine them more closely, that, unlike usual, they have now all put on strangely average clothes. Gone is the usual little hat from Price's head, and none of my little torturers have their tactical vests on, which they normally throw on at every opportunity. And because of this, the atmosphere of the whole office gradually becomes more informal, and I am suddenly glad that my day will truly only be about accumulating pleasures.

"Maybe another time." Says Price with a reassuring smile on his face, and as he pulls out a bottle, presumably full of whiskey, from one of the bottomless drawers of his desk, my mood suddenly notably improves. "Now we're celebrating!" He announces easily, and in order to support his intention, he unscrews the cap of the pre-conjured bottle to pour the golden liquid into the glasses situated on the table with practiced movements, which elicit voices of agreement from his other little companions. This is probably one of the rare occasions when they can take a little break from their strict daily life as a Hunter, so it's no wonder that the sight of booze can bring out such heat from his buddies.

"Aye, that's right! Now that you're finally on the mend, we have to celebrate that you came back in one piece!" MacTavish gives his reasoning of the motive for the small party, still grinning, and then quickly reaches for the glass he's chosen for himself, with at least as much vehemence as if he hadn't enjoyed such delicacies in a long time. Which is probably the case, but I can't decide whether it's the alcohol or the promise of celebration that gets him so excited.

"Since we can't leave the base now, we brought the pub here!" Garrick explains, eagerly taking one of the glasses full of alcohol from the middle of the table, which looks temptingly real and presumably doesn't cause blindness. And I understand his zeal, because it's really rare when someone gets hold of anything other than shit made in the basement from pills and who knows what chemicals, and puts their greedy little hand on a drink left over from the memories of the old days. This further reinforces my intuition that today's little assembly is a significant event, because even if Price might have obtained the whiskey as a reward for one of his heroic deeds, it's still a rare delicacy that you don't just guzzle out of boredom. And because of this, for some reason, that fuzzy tingling feeling fills my stomach in a disturbing way once more, which starts to annoy me to the extreme with its completely unjustified appearances, since it weakens the success of maintaining my collected and relaxed image.

"It's very kind of you, to sacrifice your office for something like this, captain." I look up at the aforementioned person, who, accompanied by a suggestive smile, chooses a victim from among the glasses left in the middle of the table, and for a moment I realize that there's a nicely poured drink left not only for me, but also for a surprise person as well. Of course, this starts a very unpleasant sinister feeling in me as to who else they would like to invite to this charming event. And since my battery for tolerating social interactions hasn't really recovered from yesterday's stressful experiences, I'm rather reluctant to accept the idea of hanging out with someone other than the little team present.

"You've gone through an unusual ordeal. It's fitting to toast with a good whiskey." Price interrupts my increasingly suspicious observations, and he grabs one of the glasses with ease and holds it out to me, so that he can provide me with the celebratory refreshment. I accept the drink intended for me with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary, and as its full-bodied, bitter aroma reaches my nose, I forget about my annoyance for a moment. Of course, this doesn't last long, because I become quite aware of the fact that the captain just has let me know rather mischievously that he had a very active hand in my little tour.

"That’s true. Now all I'm interested in is whose brilliant idea it was in the first place." I share my doubts with the people present, with a rather indifferent expression on my face, because I want them to believe that despite the fact that I almost kicked the bucket in that fucking forest, I'm such a badass that it won't leave a lasting mark on me. Which is true to some extent, but the new me who came to life while running for my life and beating the mutant to a pulp, and who was capable of doing anything to stay alive, won’t disappear into the shadows of the past anytime soon. And because of this, the whole situation will live vividly in my mind for a while.

My concerns hit my new drinking buddies unexpectedly, and as their eyes meet for a moment, it is already quite clear to me that, albeit to a different degree, each of them had an involvement in the organization of my outing. I plop down on one of the chairs, suppressing the barrage of insults on the tip of my tongue, because even though I'm aware that testing my loyalty was a completely logical step on their part, it still doesn't alleviate the disappointment that somehow, and rather inexplicably rears its head in me. Since it means, the rational voice was right when it whispered to me that the trust shown to me was as fragile as a fancy Chinese porcelain vase.

"Perhaps you should ask him this question." The captain points towards the entrance of his office with his head, and his face has such a suspicious expression that it doesn't make me calmer at all.

But before I could delve into the eyeballing of the Hunters', and before I could start further questioning, I'm interrupted by the opening of the door, and I, forgetting about my gloom, turn towards the person incoming. The tall figure appears on the threshold, whom it would be difficult to mistake for anyone else, and for a moment it is difficult for me to understand why he turns up to such a cheerful occasion. But then, as he enters the scene of the small private party and the door closes behind him, I realize that Riley has also decided to pay his respects at the small gathering, which could even count as an honor if I consider how much time he wanted to spend in my vicinity outside of training. But the details of yesterday afternoon's intermezzo in front of the hut reflexively pop up in me again, which sufficiently overturns the confidence I felt until now. Up to a point, I had effectively forgotten about the situation caused by my little trap, which had developed between us in the intimacy of nature's soft lap, but now, as my gaze meets the man's dark eyes, the unexpectedly discovered foreign feeling jumps in my stomach once more, and I want to disappear from here with immeasurable desire, and at the same time pick up the thread of his harassment again.

"I don't have to ask him, it's clear why he did it." I pull myself together, taking on my seriousness again, pointing my finger at the newly arrived masked man, who only glances at Price with interest at my remark. "He considered me a risk, so he decided to get rid of me."

"Simon did express his concerns." The captain agrees with me, and there is a hint of urgency in his voice, which suggests that he wants to conduct this conversation as calmly as possible. And for me, this only confirms the assumption that is slowly starting to take shape in my head regarding the antecedents. It was Riley who, after assessing my behavior towards him, decided to present his observations and his nice little idea to his captain to solve the problem. Based on the kind words he occasionally addressed to me during the moments we spent together, and in light of my behavior, I am not even surprised about this. And I already came to terms with this and the motivation I felt to refute his assumptions, while I was wandering in the forest. I'm more interested in how Price reacted to this whole mess, because it would help my soul a lot if he tried to stop his masked friend's plan from happening with at least a nasty look. Then I won't have to drink to suppress my anger.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Price." Riley interjects, who walks up to the table with comfortable steps, and grabs the last remaining glass from there with his gloved hand. And he takes his seat in the chair opposite me with such casual calmness that I have never had the pleasure of observing before. "It would have been pointless to keep someone here who doesn't want to stay." The man repeats the same reasoning he gave me before the whole impossible mission, and the matter-of-factness and indifference in his deep voice is no less cutting now. And I have to remind myself for a minute, that I'm no longer standing in front of the pile of trees towering over me, and whatever he assumed at the beginning, by sitting here, I've already proven somewhat the opposite.

"He didn't trust whether you would work together with us in the long term, but I didn't agree with him." Price continues his side of the story, and I only reward this statement with a cynical look, because I’m sure he didn't tell anyone anything new with this. Because if I knew that my long-term plans didn't necessarily want to be realized here, then they were certainly aware of that. "That's why the forest came into the picture."

"It didn't even cross your mind that I might perhaps, I don't know... die?" I ask, boldly planting the edge of my sarcasm in my voice, because this question justifiably emerges in me, which I doubt they didn't count on. They also were conscious of exactly where they would send me to see the scenery, and I don't think that they wouldn't have calculated into the adventure that I might end up as a mutant dinner. I'd rather not even ponder on what they would have done if I had taken Riley's advice and vanished into thin air as much as my opportunities would have let me. And Price still gave his thumbs up to the mission, which made me uncertain about the genuineness of his kindness towards me. And that upsets me much more than the experience itself.

"It was a dangerous idea, I admit. But I knew you'd be able to do it." Declares Price, and at this announcement, the annoyance I felt for a moment eases, because the man's beard-framed mouth stretches into a smile that takes my breath away for a moment. "I was sure you'd survive and come back." He carries on, and suddenly I can't decide how to react to his revelation. But I don't even have to worry about that, because he gets around the table with deliberate steps, and when he arrives next to me, he smoothes one of his big hands on my shoulder with gentle determination. "After all, you already belong here." The man gives his final justification as easily as if he had stated the most self-evident fact in the world, even though I understand the weight of what he is saying full well.

And as his fingers squeeze my shoulder softly for a moment, I grasp without further explanation what his message is to me. Even though he accepted Riley's deadly plan to find out about my intentions, it still caresses my calculating little self that, contrary to my suspicions, he was hoping all along I wouldn't prove the masked Hunter's hypotheses right. And I quickly swallow the suffocating emotions down my dry throat, because even though my soul is affected by the confusing mass of feelings caused by the whole situation, I would still rather fold a scarf around my neck from my own legs than get all sentimental.

"I haven't fully forgiven you for all this shit, just so you know." I state quickly, and as the reproach returns to my features again, Price, accompanied by a soft laugh, gently pats my back, and then returns to his appointed place behind the table. It’s remarkable how efficiently the Hunter can smooth over rather serious situations, and I suspect that years and routine are behind this exceptional ability. "I still have the smell of mutant intestines in my nose." I pull the corners of my mouth in disgust, because although the wild boar-like creature rearranged by my two beautiful hands did not affect me, the smell that remained in my nose after my whole scouting mission in the forest, even more so. Because it stayed there even after the sixth shower, effectively throwing me back under that fucking stack of trees.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it in time!" MacTavish reassures me helpfully, at least as calmly as if he hadn't just exactly outlined that I will have the opportunity to see what I experienced up close plenty of times in the future. And based on his tone, this can really be a very ordinary occurrence to him, which could be similar to when someone begins each morning with a coffee and a cigarette in order to get their biorhythm working. How practical it can be to become desensitized to bloodshed.

"I don't know if I want to get used to it." I flash my eyes at the man with the mohawk, who is just casually sipping his drink instead of taking my comment to heart. Of course, I know that I have not only proven that I am reliable and a good girl, but that I am also capable of surviving in the field, which means that I won't be able to avoid these adventures from now on. So I warmly recommend them to be more useful as human shields.

"It gets easier with every mission, don't worry." Garrick explains with real sympathy in his voice, and his features are dominated by such bloody seriousness that it becomes evident, that he really is just trying to alleviate my uncertainty with his good-natured affirmations. "After a while, you don't even pay attention to the guts and the blood."

"I can't fathom how could I survive without this wonderful experience up until now." I grumble, and the cynical eyeroll I do as I take a sip of my whiskey is instinctive, and I hope that the beneficial numbness of the alcohol will moderate the irritation emerging in me. And as it travels down my throat and into my stomach, it leaves behind a far more intense and pleasant warmth than the booze bought in the colony was ever capable of. I wonder what I left all those credits for during my evenings spent hunting. What a robbery. Luckily, it wasn’t my main goal to drink myself under the table.

"By the way." Garrick interrupts my musing, and his dark eyes are filled with genuine curiosity as he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "How have you managed to bypass the system so far? I heard it's impossible to cheat on the screenings." The Hunter asks his clever little question, and with this perhaps formulates one of the big mysteries that may have occupied his and his small team's brains, because after hearing his observation, all eyes are turning to me in sync. And I don't blame them for this, because their interest is legitimate, since it's truly almost impossible to get around the system. Almost. But if there's one thing I've learned in my life so far, it's that nothing man-made is foolproof.

"Only for those who don't know how to work their way around it." I note mysteriously, and a sly smile twists on my lips at the confusion on the Hunters' expression. No matter how much we may have buried the hatchet, it seems that my little inclination towards evilness won’t just disappear from me, which, knowing the origin of the little trial I experienced the other day, I do not even try to calm down.

"And how did you do it?" Riley breaks the silence, and I only cautiously raise my bright eyes to scan his features emerging from under the balaclava. The area that the black textile allows to show to the world is microscopic, but even this small surface is enough for me to be able to analyze him, since I have been pursuing this hobby for weeks. Underneath the blurred dark paint, his face is motionless, and there's unflinching attention hiding in his gaze, which inexplicably creates the urge in me to cooperate with him a bit more willingly, since he directs his focus on me without any hostile intent for the first time.

"I have a personal involvement in the subject, so I had enough inside information to be able to deceive the recruiters." I submit to the persistent examination and curious looks with a tired sigh, recalling the little operation I carried out during my school years, with which I laid the foundation for my future hide and seek. "I was lucky because I was thirteen when my abilities manifested, much earlier than what would be typical. It would've been impossible not to notice the change." I continue, and the morning flashes vividly in my mind, when I woke up drenched in sweat and disorientated, and saw my pretty little teeth and my even more beautiful eyes in the mirror for the first time."That's why I stole the credits from one of my classmates and bought some under-the-counter contact lenses and veneers. And the rest was even simpler. It wasn't the first time I had seen the test, I knew what parameters they were looking at and where the samples were stored. So, after the screening, I went to the school infirmary and exchanged my blood and urine samples with that of a random stranger. I knew the test would only show a match to the Healer DNA parameters, so I wasn't afraid of getting caught." I outline the events, and a kind of resigned calm settles in my voice, which belies the panic that overcame me at the time.

It would be impossible to erase the morning from my mind, when the recruiters sent by the government showed up to do their routine test on the young fourteen-year-olds to see if they would get lucky and find a Healer among them. We already knew weeks in advance when the big day would be, and in a morbid way to me, everyone was waiting for it with such fucking excitement, as if they were bringing one of the fabulous gifts that can be won at legal gambling to the little hole they called school. But while even I would have erupted in frenzied joy for ten thousand food stamps, or even for an ID card providing unlimited medical care, the fact that I could join and act as a battery for a bunch of strangers didn't excite me too much. And since my dedication to my own interests was already working stronger in me, I carried out my small campaign with thorough planning. I even surprised myself with how talented I was at forcing myself to stay calm, when one of the ladies in uniform ushered me into a hastily assembled booth in one of the classrooms. Although my pulse pushed my body to the brink of fainting, and the remnants of my pathetic breakfast were in my throat waiting to return to the outside world with each heartbeat.

Perhaps my biggest luck during my little plan was that the whole system was designed by a bunch of presumptuous dilettantes. Since the Healers who carried the mutation in themselves manifested spontaneously at the time of the appearance of the virus, when forty-six years ago they discovered the DNA test that would unmistakenly show the status of the Heale, they didn’t bother to conduct tests among the adult population of the time. So all I had to do was to look for a civilian who, based on their age, belonged to this pleasantly insignificant and neglected group, and so I could be sure that I was exchanging my sweet little samples for brand new and completely unknown material. And after that, getting into the school, which had no security system of any kind, and switching a few vials from among the samples left behind, was child's play. Mainly in light of the fact, that the exposure of my Extreme nature was a much more pressing fear in me than the slap on the wrist I would have received for the burglary. And my success couldn't be spoiled even by the fact that I waited sleeplessly for weeks for the enforcers to show up and drag me away.

My little speech is greeted by stunned silence for a minute, and I can almost hear the gears turning in their brains as they try to process what they heard. Although I suspect that they have already performed much wilder and riskier magic tricks than this. And compared to that, my confession can only be a cute moment in a children's story.

"Where did you get the blood and urine samples from?" Garrick breaks his quietness and frowns with a mixture of shock and disgust, as he takes a sip from his glass to digest what he heard, and I only note his dismay with an amused snort. Which I only find funny because it's quite comical to hear this indignity coming from someone whose job description includes wading knee-deep in mutant remains.

"I bought them from a hobo. You'd be surprised what a person can do for a food stamp." I remark while curling a suspicious smile at the corner of my mouth, cleverly holding back on the fact that I also stole the mentioned food stamps from an unfortunate fellow student. They seem to guess the origin of the goods used in the business, because Price just holds his glass to his mouth with a frown, his expression also telling me that, in addition to my many little naughty deeds, the fact that I am a thief does not even reach his threshold of irritation. And this is truly a lesser crime than the fact that my little hands were already involved in uglier things. And it's a greater shame that there is such harmony in the colonies that anyone would sell even their own mother if they could get more food, drugs or real alcohol, or even extra privileges. Of course, I can't complain, since it is precisely this miserable imperfection that has benefited me so far.

"How did you know so much about the test?" The captain asks the question that seems more important, and he fishes out a cigar from the drawer of his desk with easy movements, so that when he starts puffing merrily, he can turn back his undivided attention to me again. His blue eyes scan my face curiously, which leads me to conclude that the files probably only contained reliable data about my adulthood. No wonder, because from Laswell's point of view, only my current state and my crimes as an adult mattered.

"As I said, I have personal involvement in the subject." I confirm my previously mentioned little statement, and even though not a single cell of my heart wants to recall the haunting images trapped in the past, for some reason I have the irrational feeling that if I was lured into such an intimate party, I shouldn't keep silent about these long-forgotten trivia. "My mother was a Healer and my father was a researcher who worked with Hunters and Healers. I've been exposed to information since I can remember. Together they tried to experiment with a medicine that could replace the power of the Healers. That's why they dealt with the topic quite in-depth." I elaborate, and forcefully keep the coldness of objectivity in my voice, because I don't feel the slightest need to start lamenting on the past now. "But since it wouldn't be profitable for the government if the leash of the Hunters were out of their hands, they didn't finance the research sufficiently. Unfortunately, breakthroughs still cannot be achieved without resources." I point out the obvious easily, and they only reward my suggestion with a rather gloomy look, and from this, I know that it's not the first time that this idea crossed their minds either.

Therefore, I don't have to explain my hints any further for them to know what I mean, because they can experience first-hand how badly the system ties their hands. It's also quite unpleasant that they become the property of the colonies and their governments from the first moment they crawled out of their mothers, since as Hunters they are not even lucky enough to live a somewhat normal childhood, because everyone knows what the future profession of babies with glowing red eyes will be. But perhaps it’s really sad that they will never really have the opportunity to break away from the authorities, because the government provides them with what they wouldn’t be able to keep their sanity without. As long as the screening, registration, and employment of the Healers are in the hands of the governments, they are the only ones who can order their little helpers alongside the Hunters. And if a Hunter were to get a drug that would eliminate this parasitic relationship, then what would stop the little heroes from biting the hand that feeds them but also holds their leash? There is nothing more dangerous than giving the possibility of free self-determination into the hands of a person who can tear out someone's esophagus with their bare hands and fold it into a bow.

"What happened to them?" MacTavish suddenly speaks with a serious expression on his face that rarely appears, and which suggests that he might already know the answer, but he trusts that I would refute it. Although this question is not in the least unexpected, it strays into much more uncomfortable territory, and even I don't know whether it’s only because of my stubborn hatred or the pain living in the hidden corners of my head that I am affected by his unsuspecting interest so sensitively. And I hate the way a tiny little muscle twitches on my face, something that might not be noticed by anyone else, but their eyes are much more attentive than that, and as soon as Garrick's dark eyebrows run together and he draws a worried frown on his forehead, I curse the fucking hole in my skull where these memories are lurking.

"My mother died because the Hunter she regenerated didn't let her finish the fun in time." I answer after a moment of suffocating hesitation, and I don't like the surprised pity that appears on the Scottish man's face after my confession. "And my father, unable to bear the disappearance of the love of his life, stole a car and drove to the red zone himself." I share the fun relics of my childhood with them, and I direct my eyes to the golden whiskey in my glass instead, trying not to let the pain in my voice take even a single molecule of space, because the ache begins to pulsate dully in my chest again at the mention of the past. "The car was found a week later, and considering the circumstances, it was probably attacked by a mutant, which he obviously did not survive."

And as soon as this last cute little fluff leaves my mouth, I can experience how deeply my melodrama made an impression on them. My eyes carefully rise from my glass again, and as I quickly look around the room, I wish I had remained silent. Because I dislike the way my stomach clenches unpleasantly from what I read on their faces. The way Price's features are somber as he leans forward on the table clutching his cigar, or the way the disbelief in Garrick's gaze meets MacTavish's eyes glittering with shock as he turns to face him, or as Riley's body goes still for a blink of an eye, releases emotions in me that I don't want to feel it in the slightest.

I'd be lying if I said all this ridiculous family drama didn't entertain me with creative nightmares for years, but time has, if not erased, transformed the pain into far more effective tools. Because this bitter chain of events pointed to important facts. After my mother's death and the circumstances surrounding it removed the veil of naivety from my eyes, a very legitimate and strong determination arose in me to not end up in the same way as her. And the fact that my father didn't even see my existence as sufficient motivation to not want to be turned into confetti by monsters, showed me that the only person in this cruel world I would ever be important enough to was me. These were the first teachings that I managed to acquire through the lessons of life, and perhaps I am grateful for this priceless knowledge, since they made me who I am. And it may be true that there are many more negatives in my little soul than good, but they undoubtedly guided me toward my goals and survival with great effectiveness. That's why it makes me angry that even though I don't need anyone's pity, the idea that, thanks to my little tear-jerking story, they might see the reason behind my actions so far evokes that idiotic gentle tenderness in me. Not that this changes the fact that the crimes I have committed are still reprehensible.

"Well, let's not dwell on my sob story anymore, because everyone has a similar tale. That's just how it goes around here, isn't it?" I start rambling again, because I don't want to tolerate this melancholy anymore when I'm here to finally relax. I pour the contents of my glass down my throat with a few brave sips, hoping that the effects of the alcohol will finally catch up and erase the images buried in the past flashing in my head. "Let's talk about how this team was formed instead. As far as I know, it's quite rare for a European colony to let trained Hunters transfer to an American one."

Changing the subject provokes a rather sharp reaction from the small team, and this immediately raises the question in me as to what kind of territory I am straying into with my little quizzing. And as soon as I see the angry expression that crosses Price's face, I understand that my assumption is not far from reality. Whatever had happened to bring their fates so closely intertwined had made quite a deep impression on all of them.

"Luckily we had help." Price takes his cigar between his lips, voicing his little explanation with a dubiously easy tone, and I find it interesting that he wants to put on a mysterious act right now, when it's his turn to tell the dirty and painful little secrets.

"Laswell?" I mention the woman's name, but even without it, I know that the boss of the base is the one who can get involved in such deals with impunity. Laswell is like a phantom, sometimes she appears, sometimes she disappears, but after each time she shows up, she brings information with a shady origin and leaves behind a myriad of tasks. Undoubtedly, the woman works efficiently, but it’s difficult for me to understand how exactly she manages to get such goods, whether it’s information, weapons, blood, or my procurement. And because of this, the seemingly harmless lady immediately gets a much more dangerous classification in my mind.

"Kate went through hell with us, so there was no need to convince her to help." The bearded man shares this little crumb with me, still shrouding the real answer to my previous question in cryptic darkness. And although I can conclude from the sudden heavy atmosphere in the room that perhaps I am truly trying to poke a wound that still hasn't healed yet, the desire for knowledge in me doesn't let me back down.

"Don't leave me hanging, I've pulled out the skeletons, now it’s your turn." I continue to insist, conjuring a rather unsightly expression on my face, trusting that the mention of my miserable childhood is convenient enough to expect the same honesty from them. Secretly, of course, I hope that I will gain some additional useful insight, because even though I don't want to run away with passion anymore, uncertainty and the lack of knowledge are still not among my favorite states.

"It won't be a happy story." Warns Price, and his mouth stretches into a bitter smile that is completely foreign to him. And I start to wonder how traumatic the experience must have been, which led them to this point, if even the always calm, determined, and above all, self-confident Hunter's face twists into such a broken expression. And I almost feel guilty, as curiosity settles in my brain like an itch that won't stop. Almost.

"Very few have that, Captain." I remind the man, because although everyone can pretend that life in the colonies is full of sunshine and rainbows, since no one is in direct danger of monsters, this little thing does not negate the fact that everyone lives there struggling with some kind of misery. They are either starving, or sick, or all forms of their freedom are restricted for the protection and greater good of the colony.

Finally, Price leans back in his chair accompanied by a humorless sigh, and before he would start his little evening tale, he sends a respectable amount of whiskey down his throat, and I follow the movement with tense attention. I can only observe from my periphery how the other three Hunters keep their eyes on their leader, shrouded in silence, and an unusual troubled aura appears even on Riley's part, which soon begins to emanate from all of them.

"I was serving in Colony no. 9 when I met the boys 8 years ago. We were all members of a government liquidation unit, in separate teams, but under one management." Price starts the origin story, and his voice is once again filled with resolve. The name of the colony doesn't ring a single bell, and that makes me all the more confused, because if such a big fuckery happened, which shakes these battle-hardened men out of their composure, then it surely would have been all over the news. "We served in Great Britain's largest colony, and at the time I thought it was an honor. I think we all did." For a moment, he looks around at his companions, who only agree with the captain's statement with a small, but still grim nod.

"I've wanted to serve there since I was a kid, you can imagine how fired up I was when I got in right after basic training! I met the captain on my first mission. He saved me before a mutant could kill me." Garrick suddenly interrupts the thread of Price's tale, and I'm surprised by the sincere admiration with which he directs his gaze to the bearded Hunter. And suddenly, the image of the barely out from Hunter School, snotty eighteen-year-old flashes into my mind, who throws himself into the excitement of the unit with sparkling eyes, ready for action, and runs towards danger, as the reckless fools in that age usually do. The vision brings a faint smile to my face because I find the mental picture of the barely-out-of-puberty Garrick honestly sweet.

"Don't exaggerate, Gaz. You could've handled it on your own." Price glances at the mentioned, with a cheeky, but appreciative smile on his face, and that gives him the vibe of paternal love once again, with which he often turns to the younger man. The dynamic between the two is truly heartwarming and sickeningly sweet, but even my dark soul softens at their interactions. "Ghost and Soap joined the unit a bit later, but I was lucky enough to see what they're capable of even before that." He points to the two Hunters with his glass, thus confirming my earlier hypothesis that they've indeed known each other longer than I originally would have thought.

"Good old days." MacTavish comments with unusual brevity, and as his bright eyes shift to his glass, I get the feeling for the umpteenth time that they were involved in some sizeable shit back then, which even to this day can conjure up such an upset expression on the face of one of their most carefree members.

"The life of the unit wasn’t very eventful, as far as it was possible. But then Makarov came..." Price proceeds with the story, and at the mention of the unknown name, the unmistakable wrinkles of hatred and anger appear on the faces of each Hunter, almost at the same time, and I just study their reaction in bewilderment. But despite my surprise, I realize that we have arrived at the catalyst of the entire chain of events.

"Makarov?" I repeat the rather Russian-sounding name, and it does not escape my attention how instinctively the captain's jaw tightens after I bring up the foreign villain again. But I don't need to know who this faceless stranger is to recognize that he must be a serious asshole if he managed to sneak so deeply into the minds of every member of Unit 141.

"Leader of a Russian separatist group. At the time, he was famous for getting his hand on any weapon that his customers could pay for." Explains the Hunter, gathering strength to continue with another sip. And in me, just the phrase of the separatist group triggers a plethora of assumptions, which help to define who this anonymous criminal might be. Although these small illegally operating congregations, completely separate from the colonies, have been making life difficult for everyone for years alongside the mutant threat, this is the first time I've heard of someone who dealt with such dangerous businesses. However, this is mostly the fault of the news providers, since they only report information that doesn't cause undue panic among the already agitated population. "This is exactly what made Colony no. 9 a target. At that time, they were developing a powerful ballistic missile that would've been able to destroy nests with great precision, without causing the slightest collateral damage. It would've been a simple, clean method."

"Oh, missiles. They were really in high demand once. It's a shame these bastards are smarter now." I muse, and the set of data I viewed during the years spent in the lab flashes before my eyes, where these mischievous little rockets appeared quite often. And they never brought lasting success, or mostly nothing.

When the virus appeared, what hit humanity the most unexpectedly was the fact that suddenly thousands of mindless and bloodthirsty mutant monsters swarmed into all and any inhabited areas they could get into. The phenomenon was unexplainable, but it reached all corners of the world within a few days, and the leaders of the most powerful countries at the time had no chance to react to the threat in time. And dropping one nuclear bomb was enough for them to know, that while the explosion kills the fucking beasts, the radiation doesn't stop them and only reduces the precious resources for humans instead. The short latency of the virus and the fact that the mutation happened in a matter of hours was hazardous enough, but there was no way to wipe them out without massive collateral damage. Fortunately, the Hunters appeared, who were immune to the bite, and with their newfound superpowers, they were so effective at tearing the monsters apart that came into their path that, together with the military, they were able to push them out of the areas where the colonies are located today. Then, a good ten years after the breakout, several specimens gathered into hordes once again, made nests, and carried on with their idyllic little lives. Governments were quite disturbed by the fact that their previous purely aggressive behavior had been replaced by somewhat organized habits, but when these creatures, distorted beyond recognition, began to breed with each other, it created a whole new set of concerns. After all, in this way, they not only infected their other animal companions through their bites, but also gave birth to new offsprings, which were already stronger than their parents. This is how the lovely little missiles came into the picture, which at first successfully exterminated the nests, but then after a while these fuckers started predicting the arrival of the rockets somehow, presumably with the help of their super-sensitive hearing. By the time the package hit its target, they had already escaped. Over the years, they experimented with various missiles, but sooner or later the stunt always failed. And making these toys was a very expensive pastime with limited resources, so most colonies gave up on fabricating them altogether.

"Well, it was an interesting enough development for Makarov to notice." Price notes, running his hand along his beard with a nervous sigh. "And when he arrived, he brought such chaos with him that no one was prepared for." He brings up the climax of the tale, and just at the mention of it, the miserable expression takes over his features that I've never seen on the man before, and this sufficiently sobers me up as well. "He lured the I.M.L.s out with sound alarms, from a nest we didn't even know about. He led them all the way to the colony, where he blasted a hole in the wall and let those bastards do their thing. And they did." The Hunter's voice fills with that helpless rage that no doubt reflects what he must have felt when all hell broke loose. And everything I wanted to say stuck in my throat, because when I remember how efficiently that damned whistling, diabolical structure directed that mutant piggy towards me in the forest, angry and ready to rampage, then it’s not difficult to imagine in what condition that nest of mutants could have broken into the colony.

"Everyone was ordered out to the city, but we didn't stand a chance. I've never seen so many I.M.L.s in one place. It was like the first breakout." MacTavish joins in, and the cavalcade of emotions caused by the recalled memories sweeps over his face with noticeable grimness. "They were everywhere in 10 minutes. They killed everything in their path."

And the Scottish man doesn't need to go into detail for me to realize what horrors he must have seen there. Even history books only talked about the massacres that took place when the virus appeared in a censored form, and the fate of Colony no. 9 could've been very similar to this. And the image inevitably appears in my head, as hundreds of enraged beasts flood the streets of the peaceful city, tearing apart, killing, and devouring everything and everyone in their way. Women, men, old and young, these creatures don't differentiate between two delicious morsels, they degrade anyone into an unrecognizable bloody mess without discrimination. And this picture is so vivid in my mind that I am finally overcome by the mournful mood that has been present in the Hunters since the beginning of the story.

"Then, when the authorities saw how hopeless the situation was, we were instructed to leave the colony together with the important officials." Price goes on, and his statement deepens my shock, because even though I'm a mean bastard, even I'm not so terribly heartless. Even if the decision itself was an inhuman but logical step. "There was no room for opposition, we received an order, and our hands were tied." The Hunter recalls, and my eyes instinctively find his fingers clenching around his glass. "So, all the Hunters and soldiers left everything behind and evacuated."

"Then one of the fuckin' missiles was detonated." MacTavish snaps, and his anger deepens his accent further, which makes his entire exasperated outburst even more harshly emphasized. The resentment that rages in him even now is justified, and I don't blame him for the hatred reviving in his eyes. "The entire colony was destroyed." He adds, but the outcome was quite obvious from the moment he mentioned that damn rocket. And this confession puts the graveness of the tale in a completely different light, and it suddenly becomes painfully clear to me what kind of trauma happened to them, which later forged the small team together.

"We were pulled out because it was more important to protect the lives of the bloody government members." Garrick spits with pure loathing, and his face twists with the mixture of hatred and anger, and this is the first time I see the Hunter filled with such fury. "But no one cared about the many innocents who were killed by the I.M.L.s or the missile." He says, looking at his glass, and suddenly I understand what he meant during our little recharge session that took place in the gym, when he said that he knows what it's like to let shit happen. And I don't like the pain that rips through my chest when I see the man's hopeless rage. According to this, I wasn’t wrong when I assumed that there were bitter experiences behind his good intentions. And now, for the first time, it bothers me that I was right.

"The authorities were glad that Makarov didn’t succeeded, because that would've meant a much greater danger later on." The captain continues to unfold the events, and to vent his frustration, he raises his cigar to his mouth again, hoping that the tobacco will calm his nerves, I suspect. "I met Kate in the temporary refugee camp. I had known her before, but back then she was also among those who miraculously escaped. We agreed that our hands are tied under government leadership, and this needs to change. I didn't care if I had to get my hands dirty if I could keep the innocents clean. So Kate offered me to join her, and she helped me set up a private unit. She entrusted me to recruit who I see fit."

"It wasn't even a question we'd join after what happened." Garrick agrees, giving his comrades a meaningful look, who nod in agreement at his testimony. And I do not doubt that this experience brought them closer. Thus, it makes sense why this unit embarks on adventures that are far more dangerous than necessary, and for the first time, I don't even have a sarcastic remark about their heroism. Because I understand that they are fueled by the motivation to overcome the helplessness they had to deal with, and I can empathize with this sentimentality. In light of this, Riley's hostile behavior also becomes quite rational, because, in the eyes of someone who was driven by this trauma to protect the colony unconditionally, my callous and selfish indulgence may have been an even bloodier crime than I had previously suspected. And I'm not happy about the way this feeling gives room to an incipient sense of guilt in the hidden corners of my soul.

"What happened to Makarov?" I voice the obvious question instead, thereby beneficially suppressing the useless negative emotions that arose in me, since the mention of the unfamiliar villain promises to be a much more pleasant topic.

"That bastard hasn't been found since." Riley joins the conversation for the first time since his arrival, and the murderous temper in his eyes warns even me to be careful, even though his anger is not directed at me now. "But if he survived, we'll find him sooner or later." The man promises ominously, probably expressing the thoughts of the others as well. Because, as I take a look at the Hunters, one by one, a rock-solid determination similar to that of the masked man sits on their faces.

"It wasn't a happy story, indeed." I finally break their gloom, attempting to turn the meeting, which started out lighthearted, back to its original direction after the rather interesting trip down memory lane. Recalling so many bad experiences for one evening is more than enough, because statistically, the trauma per person in this neon-lit office is now well beyond the limits of the healthy range.

"You were right that everyone has a similar sad story." Price refers to my apt remark I made earlier, thereby confirming the fact that in this filthy cesspool that the world has become, no one gets even close to a happy ending. "That's exactly why we need all the help. So that nothing like this can happen again, if it's up to us." He nods his head towards me, and I don't have to mobilize a single molecule of my intellect to know what a significant hint the captain is giving me.

He doesn't need to spell out that I am also included in this "all help" group, because by now it has become quite obvious what kind of thrills I am invited to by being accepted as a member of the team. And now my first instinctive thought is not about escaping from the task in creative ways, but instead, I just conjure a sassy grin on my face, fueled by my newly found inspiration.

"Luckily you managed to get your hand on a real first-class Extreme Healer." I emphasize the useful presence of my humble person as I place my glass on the table and encourage Price to refill it.

"We can thank Kate for that too." The man pulls a brazen little smile on his face, that draws small lines around his eyes, and cooperates with my silent request for booze without any resistance. He fills my glass, and then the whiskey bottle goes around again to give those present the divine liquid. But before I can enjoy the pleasant tingle of alcohol again, MacTavish jumps up with renewed enthusiasm and holds his glass high, drawing everyone's attention to himself.

"Let's drink to Laswell!" The Hunter suggests cheerfully, and then he turns his gaze to me in a tenth of a second, in which the well-known mischievous light flashes, establishing my displeasure in advance. "And to Woods, the sly viper!" He shouts with complete approval to his statement, and although my eyebrows shoot up with indignation upon hearing his nickname, I am still unable to keep my contempt for long. After all, considering how I usually attack suddenly and ambush my victims, he managed to come up with a rather fitting name.

We all stand up almost in sync to comply with MacTavish's initiative, and as our glasses clink together, my scan the Hunters, finally, for the first time in my life, I feel that maybe it really won't be so horrible to work my guts out as part of a unit. Because even if not all members are overjoyed at my presence, I am sure that they are more happy that I am here than I can imagine. And this only strengthens my determination to fight tooth and nail to stay here.

[idreamofplaid]

What Tomorrow Brings

Square Filled: Opposites Attract for @spnfluffbingo & Bed Sharing for @spngenrebingo 

Characters: Dean x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: oral (female receiving)

Summary: The reader’s been dreaming about Dean for weeks. She finally gets her chance, but she isn’t a one night stand kind of girl.

Word Count: 4134

Created for @spnfluffbingo & @spngenrebingo

It looked pretty much like all hunter’s cabins do. There was a small kitchen area with rustic wood cabinets and open shelves, suitable for preparing chili, sandwiches, or other simple food. The couch appeared comfortable enough and would serve the purpose of having a place to put your feet up and enjoy a glass of whiskey, just a little something to take the edge off that killing monsters created.

The cabin was typical with the exception of one major difference. In the sleeping nook, there was a bed that beckoned the weary and promised to restore what the constant stress of saving people took away. It was the kind of bed you’d find in a home, a real one, and it was to this bed that you were drawn. 

You lay back on it, extended your arms above your head and stretched. With a lift of your shoulders, the muscles between your shoulder blades pulled, releasing some of the tension there. The pillow was soft, much softer than was to be expected in a cabin intended to provide shelter and not much more. You turned your cheek and nuzzled into it. The sheets felt positively divine. A contented sigh escaped from your throat. 

Dean dropped his duffle on the floor with a thud, jarring you out of your temporary state of bliss. He had apparently been watching all this with interest because he lifted one eyebrow and a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Looks like you’re really having a good time with that bed. Do the two of you need a few minutes alone?”

You picked up the pillow next to you and flung it at him. “This is the nicest bed I’ve seen in months, maybe even years. I’m not going to let you shame me out of enjoying it.” You could feel your cheeks beginning to turn pink. Dean was always so free and easy with the sexual innuendo. He was a walking tribute to everything sexually attractive in a man, at least as far as you were concerned. It wasn’t that his flirting wasn’t welcome, just the opposite. You’d been harboring a crush on Dean for months, but flirting just made you feel awkward. 

Dean picked the pillow up from the floor. “Alright then. I’ll just ‘enjoy’ this pillow on the couch.” If he’d noticed you’d gotten flustered by his comment, he didn’t give any indication of it. He just walked his sexy ass over to the couch and started making himself comfortable. Realizing that you had been staring at his butt, you felt your cheeks flush again.

He might tease, but Dean was always a gentleman. Without a doubt, that was part of the reason you were falling for him. You transferred your attention from his more fantasy inducing attributes to notice the hint of dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well since you’d tracked down that jinn in Cheyenne. Jinn cases always affected him more than the others, or at least differently. He’d confided that to you once, telling you about the jinn who had shown him what his life would have been like had it been “normal”. In a moment of vulnerability, he had admitted how much he wanted the monsters to go away sometimes so he could have a real home and stop looking over his shoulder all the time. It was also that vulnerability that had you entertaining the idea of Dean as more than a friend. 

He had become quite the distraction for you the past few weeks, filling your daydreams with surprise bouquets of flowers and sweet kisses in candlelight. No doubt, the things you thought about were a long way from what was between the covers of the “Busty Asian Beauties” magazines he tried to hide when you were around. 

You sneaked another look at him laying on the couch, still in his clothes, arms crossed over his chest. He shifted a little and sighed. You tried to pinpoint the reason for that sigh. It could be several things. He could be thinking about his life as a hunter again and how he wished it was different; it could be because he was too tired to sleep, or it could be because he very much wanted to sleep, but his sleeping conditions were less than ideal. 

He had driven all the way here, refusing when you offered to take a turn. So, you had gotten some rest sleeping in Baby’s backseat. Dean wasn’t generally one for sleeping on the road; you figured it was a control thing for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you to drive his Baby; he did, and you knew that was huge. He just liked being behind the wheel, especially when he needed to clear his head; and you knew that, no matter how much he denied it, his mind was filled with plenty of things that needed to be cleared. He had told you enough to verify that.

You got off the bed and walked over to him. Dean cracked open one eye and looked at you. He opened them both when he caught sight of your serious expression. “You take the bed; I’ve had more sleep that you have.”

Dean thought for only a second before he answered. “Any reason both of us can’t sleep in the bed? I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He raised them in the air in a gesture of surrender to emphasize his point. The smirk was back. Was he trying to make you blush again? His next words made it clear that he was. “But you do have a perfect ass. So…” He dropped his eyes down and made a show of looking it over. That got the rise from you that he was looking for; you snatched the pillow from beneath his head and swatted him with it. Dean excused himself to take a shower with a smart ass remark. “If you’re going to be nice enough to let me be that close to you, I can at least smell pretty for you.” 

You sat on the bed with your legs criss crossed beneath you, listening to the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. It was impossible not to think about a naked Dean so near and running his hands over his muscled body while the water traveled down his chest and stomach in rivulets, down to….” 

Stop. Your mind cannot go there. You jumped up from the bed and moved in the direction of the kitchen. You needed to do something, anything, to get your mind off that. Making coffee was a comforting routine for you, so try that; it could work. Never mind it was almost midnight, the smell of it was soothing. So, you opened the cabinet and started to search. There it was; it wouldn’t be a hunter’s cabin without coffee. 

The smell of coffee had filled the entire cabin by the time Dean walked out dressed in a t-shirt and sweats that nicely hugged that backside of his that completely captivated you. Your eyes were drawn to it again. This was stupid, to let your mind run away like this. He’d never been anything more than friendly with you. Of course, he flirted. Dean was a flirt. That was what he did. Maybe he took care of you, letting you sleep when he needed it just as much, but that was just Dean too. Protective was part of his nature.

Stop it, Y/N. You stop thinking like this right now. This isn’t going anywhere. Any straight woman that laid eyes on Dean would think exactly what you’re thinking. That’s all it is. Hormones. Attraction. One sided attraction. Dean interrupted the lecture you were giving yourself. “What are you doing?”

You looked at him like you needed an interpreter to translate what he’d just said. Dean raised his hand in the direction of the coffee pot. “You’re making coffee at midnight.” His eyes scanned the counter. “Are you hiding some whiskey somewhere you plan on putting in that?” He knew you didn’t drink your whiskey straight, and it wasn’t unusual for hunters to have a nightcap to help get them to sleep.

“No, no whiskey.” You turned off the coffee pot. “I just like the smell.”

“O...kay.” One of the endearing things about Dean was that he wasn’t shy, and he knew how to smooth over a situation. He headed straight for the bed and turned down the covers. “Which side do you want?”

“Um...it doesn’t matter. You choose.” He’d spent more time sharing a bed with another person than you had, so he probably did have a preference. You could adapt. Dean chose the right. 

The first few seconds in bed with him sent all kinds of thoughts shooting through your mind. What if you did try to pursue something with him? And what if he went along with it? What if you could touch him right now? What if you could cuddle up to him and feel how warm he is? What if you could put your head on his chest like a pillow?  He was so close you could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo he’d used, and that did nothing to help move your mind in a different direction. 

Your mind wasn’t even focused on sex right now. That was a different fantasy. All you wanted was to feel his arms around you while you fell asleep, hear the sound of him breathing close by your ear. Dean rolled over instead and faced his back to you. You sighed internally then rolled over in the opposite direction so your back was also to him. Damn reality, but he was still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Dean filled your dreams that night. He made you smile. He played with your hair, twisting it around his finger. He kissed you with his lips that were far softer than you ever imagined. You looked at the stars together, and he told you he saw a future with you in it. You settled your head onto his shoulder and just let yourself feel the goodness of being with him.

The dream was vivid, so vivid you could smell the leather of his jacket. His arms were solid and strong; they made you feel safe. So, when you felt the real weight of his arm on your waist, you put your hand over his and pulled his arm tighter around you. “Y/N.” The sound of his voice woke you. 

Your hand was on top of his. Still caught in the dream, you threaded your fingers through his while he spooned you. “I’ll do it next time. I promise.” What was he talking about? Then he kissed the back of your neck. Your breath hitched, and you stifled the gasp in your throat. 

Before you could say anything, he did it again. This kiss was further up, closer to your ear, and he squeezed your hand. “Dean.” He was still kissing you. Since when was he such a heavy sleeper? You tried again, letting go of his hand this time. “Dean.”

You were trying to steady your breathing; there wasn’t much you could do about your fast beating heart. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was low, sleep filled and sexy. Forget about trying to control your breathing now. He had woken up the first time you said his name. Dean knew exactly what he was doing. 

You put your hand back over his. “No. Don’t stop.” Dean turned you in his arms so he could get to your lips. The first touch of his mouth on yours sealed your fate. You finished the fall you’d been making for weeks now; you fell completely into that place where you knew you wanted him, feared you’d never be complete without him. There was no denying what you felt for him anymore as you opened your mouth and let him kiss you deeply, moving his tongue around yours. 

His arms were around you, holding you close. One of his hands had moved down to your hip, and he was pressing your body against the length of his while he kissed you. Thoughts swirled through your mind in a way that made you forget everything else but right here, right now, and him. This was the way books and movies portrayed moments like this, but you had never experienced it until now. Flashes moved through your mind of the times he’d cracked jokes and made you laugh, his smile, and the softness you sometimes saw sneak into his eyes when he thought no one was looking. 

He stopped kissing you long enough to look at you that way now. You could fall in love with him very easily; you knew you could, and that was dangerous. Dean avoided commitment;  you understood why, but you’d never had a one night stand in your life. That couldn’t start now, especially not with Dean. It would make him just that much harder to get over, and make a friendship you never wanted to lose so awkward that maybe you couldn’t even work together anymore. That couldn’t happen either; you had to be sure that this was something more.

Dean noticed the change in you. “Are you okay, Y/N? Do you still want to do this?”

Your feelings were churning inside you. “I need to know something, Dean.” You dropped your eyes from his; they were so open, so sincere. You wanted them to stay that way. “Will this change anything?”

You saw him lick his lips and bite the bottom one; he was thinking too, but he didn’t interrupt. “I mean I can’t do this if tomorrow things go back to being like this never happened. I can’t watch women looking at you and you flirting with them... or whatever.” Your next words came out in a rush. “I don’t have any right to ask you not to. If that’s what you want to do, of course you can keep doing it. It’s just that I…”

“Y/N, stop. You don’t need to say anything else.” He was smiling, a sad and thoughtful kind of smile. “If we do this, Y/N, if you still want to do it after what I have to say; it won’t be like this never happened. Those women can keep looking, but I won’t look back. I’ll need more than anything they have to offer.” 

He took you in his arms, holding you, like he wanted that last intimate contact in case this didn’t happen. He rested his hand on the back of your head and let his fingers sink into your hair. Dean started talking before he let you go. “I want something more, something real, something that can last. I want a chance at that.”

Dean pulled back, brushed your cheek with his thumb, and angled his head so he could see you better. “I wouldn’t do this, Y/N, if I didn’t think it could be something past tonight. You’re not that kind of girl, and I wouldn’t want you to be.”

He held your face in his hand. “I’ll try. I promise you I will. You know all the crap I’m carrying around, but I’ll try to get past it. I just can’t promise I’ll be good at commitment, but I won’t cheat on you. I promise that will never happen.”

You nodded; he kissed you softly, thoroughly, promising you in the best way he knew how that he would try to give you what you wanted and needed. He’d already given you more words than Dean was usually comfortable with, and you knew how much that meant. Dean took your clothes off slowly, taking his time to discover your body. He kissed your breasts where they pushed over the top of your plain white cotton bra, making you shiver every time his lips touched your skin. You wouldn’t have worn a bra to bed at all if he hadn’t been there, and now you felt self conscious about the ordinary one you were wearing and how it looked, but he got hard like it was the sexiest lingerie you could have possibly bought. 

When Dean reached behind you to unhook it and your bra fell away, you heard his sudden intake of breath. He sounded like he’d been captivated by another jinn’s vision or a witch’s spell. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” Dean kissed you again. It was tender and unhurried. He stopped long enough to take off his shirt and you felt your own intake of breath. You’d seen him plenty of times without a shirt, but what you saw had never been for you before. 

When he started kissing you again, your breasts were pressed into his chest. Your nipples rubbed against him and made you tingle in your core. They were hard by the time Dean moved down your body and took one in his mouth. His tongue was warm as it moved around your bud. He licked, nibbled, and sucked. It made you ache to be filled by him. “I need you, Dean.” 

He made a trail of kisses down your body and swirled his tongue around and through your belly button. “Not yet, sweetheart. I’m not done tasting you yet.” The way he called you sweetheart was so tender. It had none of the cocky self assurance that usually came with that word when he used it. 

Dean took hold of the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you lifted your hips to help him take them off. You were shaking on the inside, not sure if you were ready for this and wanting it more than you had ever wanted anything. Dean kissed you through your matching cotton panties. You weren’t self conscious about your underwear anymore; you were too focused on the way he was making you feel and wanting more from him. He whispered against your most private place, “You’re already wet for me, beautiful.” He took his time, kissing the insides of your thighs, before he took off your panties. By the time they were gone, you were even wetter for him.

Dean licked through your folds and teased your opening with his tongue until his face was covered with your arousal. When he finally locked his lips around your clit, you were desperate for him. He filled you with one of his fingers while he sucked at your clit. Dean started to move that finger, causing you to grab at his head and curl your fingers in his hair. “D...De...Dean.”

He kissed your clit even more slowly with his tongue, taking his time to circle and flick it just right. “That’s it, sweet girl, let go for me.” Then he speeded up the movements of his tongue and fingers. He moaned your name against your bud, and you came shaking and clutching handfuls of his hair in your fingers.

Dean kissed your bundle of nerves a couple more times as you came down from the high of your orgasm. His hand rubbed along your hip, grounding you, reminding you he was there. When he eased back up your body to kiss your lips again, his kiss was even more tender. He kissed you like a man who wasn’t still hard and needing, but you could feel his erection pushing against you. 

He ignored it and kept kissing you. That could very well be the moment you fell in love with him. If it wasn’t, it surely happened with his next words. “We can stop; don’t feel like you owe me anything.” 

You took his cheek into your hand and made sure he was looking right into your eyes. “Don’t stop, Dean. If you do, I’ll wonder for the rest of my life what it feels like to have you inside me.” Dean stared at you, and something flashed through his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. The next kiss he gave you was unlike any kiss you’d ever experienced in your life. You felt like you melded into him, became a part of him. You could taste him, feel the strength of his arms around you, and smell that fresh washed scent from the shower mixed with his own musk. He consumed your senses.

Your eyes were closed, and you were still floating in the bliss he had created around you while he took off the rest of his clothes. You didn’t see, only felt, how big he was when he entered you. The way Dean stretched you felt incredible. 

You wrapped your arms around his back and accepted him, opening your legs wider. He moved inside you, stroking and hitting all the right places. “Dean.” You tightened your fingers on his back as he brought you closer to another orgasm. It was only after you climaxed a second time, that Dean allowed himself to come. The sound of your name on his lips was so raw, so real, and so good; you let yourself be amazed for a moment that you had given that to him, made him feel like that.

Dean took care of the condom quickly, so he could have you in his arms again. You fit so perfectly beside him; it was like you had always been there. You trusted him. You believed what he said when he told you that tomorrow wouldn’t only be a memory, not to be pursued again. You let that belief wrap closely around you, covering you with the reassurance it brought. But not a single thought you had ever had in your mind could compare to the way it felt to be in Dean’s arms. 

You could still feel all of his body next to yours, and you were glad he hadn’t suggested a shower after sex as many of your past partners had done. This closeness and this quiet was important to you. It made you feel bonded to him somehow. Not like the sex had, it was different, but just as meaningful. It made like you feel like he was in no rush to end this, to move on from it. That made you feel comfortable, and it made you feel safe. 

Dean played with your hair and ran his finger tips over your arm and shoulder the way he had in your dreams. After a few minutes, you felt your eyes start to close. You couldn’t let yourself go to sleep yet. You didn’t want this to end, and so far Dean hadn’t said anything. So you asked him, “When you said, ‘I promise I’ll do it next time’ what did you mean?” 

His voice was filled with a smile. “It was fabric softener.” 

You raised your head and looked at him, confusion all over your face. “What?”

He laughed a tiny laugh that was lighthearted and free of any and all the burdens he usually carried. “Yeah. I forgot to put it in the wash, and I know you love the way it makes your clothes feel.”

You squinted your eyes, still confused. “You were doing my laundry in your dream?”

Dean reached up to take a tendril of your hair and pull it through his fingers. “Our laundry. We were together. We had a place of our own. We were happy.” He glanced down, your hair was still between his fingers. “I told you when I came to bed, and I thought you’d forgive me if I showed you what you mean to me.” He looked back at you then. “So, I put my arm around you and kissed you. Only, that didn’t happen only in the dream. And once it did, I knew how much I wanted it to happen.”

“I did too, Dean. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” You looked at his lips that you had kissed, his lips that had kissed you everywhere. “I just didn’t think it could happen, that it would happen.” 

Moonlight was shining through the cabin window, and it illuminated his eyes showing how deeply green and beautiful they were. “It has now. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know if you want me to answer that question.” You bowed your head, and your hair fell into his face. 

Dean’s voice was gentle and so quiet. “I know how it makes me feel. It makes me feel like I never want this to end.”

You put your head back on his chest. It was quiet again for a while. Then he spoke again, and the smile was back in his voice. “I get to wake up with you tomorrow.” You smiled too and kissed the spot over his heart. After that, you could sleep.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog 

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @waywardrose13​ @theychosefamily​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

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This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse.  Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent  world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

[hyuckles-chuckles]

hiding in a tree — j. jaehyun

the most handsome guy on campus asks you out on a date, despite ending up in a tree you aren’t necessarily k-i-s-s-i-n-g him.

pairing ; son of aphrodite!jung jaehyun x fem!reader

other character(s) ; son of hephaestus!johnny seo

genre ; fluff, angst, demigod!au, college!au · word count ; 2.4k · rating ; 15 · warning(s) ; usage of weaponry, demigod swearing, mentions of killing evil monsters

request ; “jaehyun + 1 : ‘what did you think was going to happen?’ + m : demigod!au” by @ahgase55g7​ !

masterlist ; adobe’s 1500 follower celebration

a/n ; i truly truly truly love writing demigod/pjo fics, thanks for the request love! i hope y’all enjoy this greek mythology mess + fyi this took me a day to write when it took me a whole year to get tddd out so maybe this is improvement idk you tell me please tell me i love hearing feedback from y’all

hiding in a tree is copyright 2020 hyuckles-chuckles, all rights reserved.

If you knew that going on a date with Jaehyun would end up with you stuck in a tree with an enraged boar at the bottom of it as he and his friend tried to kill it, you wouldn’t have accepted. Who were you kidding? He could’ve taken you to the Underworld and you still would’ve enjoyed yourself.

Maybe on your next date you could go to the Underworld since that suddenly existed now.

Jaehyun was probably the most beautiful person you had ever seen. And every single person on your campus would agree with you. You didn’t even think that he knew you existed considering you only shared your Creative Writing class with him since he majored in Visual Art and you majored in Literature. You didn’t even see him at any parties since you started tertiary schooling.

But from those few moments in your only class together, he spotted you from the class, his first words to you being ‘This could be weird since we’ve never spoken before, but I think you’re so beautiful. Would you like to go on a date with me?’ You stood with your mouth agape, only responding with a rather loud ‘yes’ when he started to chuckle at your expression. You were already getting your phone out to get his number, but he said he didn’t have a phone. You were surprised but laughed it off as you jotted the details of the date into your notes app.

Nothing could get rid of the smile on your face that day.

You anticipated your date for a few days, agreeing to have a picnic in the park on the weekend (which you found odd considering your first dates were mainly always at a café — this seemed a lot more romantic in your opinion). While you waited for the weekend, every time you had class together you would sit together and get to know each other better before your date.

You even sneaked some selfies with him while he was paying attention to your lecturer. No matter the angle — flattering or unflattering — he managed to look good in every single one. You were extremely jealous. You even teased him at how unfair it was for him to look so good, causing a blush to form on his dimpled cheeks as he walked you to your apartment.

“Uh, so I’ll see you here tomorrow then,” Jaehyun said at the bottom of your staircase as you unlocked the door to go inside of your apartment building.

“Twelve o’clock sharp. You don’t have a phone so I can’t call you if you’re late.”

“If I’m late, I’ll just call you from a payphone — you gave me your number for a reason,” he chuckled as you stood in your doorway. “Bye, beautiful.”

“Bye,” you greeted him with a wave, closing the door before he could see the smile that spread across your face. You could say you were a little excited for your date with Jaehyun.

You sat at the top of the steps as you waited for Jaehyun. You didn’t realise you had been ready far too early for the date when he was actually supposed to pick you up. But who could blame you when that beautiful boy was supposed to take you on a date? Literally no one could — they would be doing exactly what you are doing.

You looked to your watch, smiling as you only had a minute left until Jaehyun came to pick you up and walk you to the park. You smiled even more brightly when you caught sight of him. Other times you had seen him, he was always calm and collected, a natural smile gracing his features. This time he seemed kind of…stressed. Maybe he was nervous because of your date, but he didn’t seem like himself.

“Hey!” you greet him, walking down the steps, stopping at the very last one. Despite your added height, he was still slightly taller than you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he exhaled, hugging you and bringing you down to the ground. “You ready to go?” he asked, already taking your hand and walking towards the park.

“Jae, wait,” you giggle, pulling on his arm for him to stop. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he stutters. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you muse as you take in his appearance. His hair is dishevelled as if he ran to your apartment. Between the handles of the basket he held was a baseball bat which you weren’t expecting. And when you looked to his half tucked in shirt, you noticed a quite large mirror hanging from his belt. “You seem…off.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” he gives you a reassuring smile. “Let’s just get to the park — and get there fast.”

Jaehyun walks fast in front of you, you jogging to keep up with his pace. When he finally stops you catch your breath and hold your chest. He notices and gets you a bottle of water from the basket.

“Thank you,” you laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, making it look even messier than before. “Sometimes I forget people aren’t like me.”

“And what makes you different?” you ask. He suddenly tenses, so you relieve his tension with a joke. “Because you’re prettier than people?”

You see his shoulders relax, which causes you to worry. You got to know him this past week and right now he didn’t seem like himself. “Jaehyun, are you sure you’re okay? We can reschedule the date if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, I’m fine, being at the park is actually keeping me calm,” he reassured you, and even though you knew deep down he wasn’t fine, you had the need to believe so you did.

“So, are you planning on having us play baseball?” you ask as you look down at him preparing the blanket and goods.

“Baseball?” he questions, looking up at you quizzically.

“Well, you have a baseball bat next to the basket,” you remind him of his belongings. “But just so you know, I’ve done all my running for the week.”

“Oh, okay,” he says as he glances at the bat, turning to look up at you from where he sat. “Care to join me?” he asked with a raised hand and a dashing smile.

“Of course I will—”

“Jaehyun! What are you doing here?!”

You both look up at the person who called for Jaehyun. You recognise it as Jaehyun’s friend Johnny. He seems to be in a similar state as your date only much, much worse.

“What the Hades are you doing here?!” Jaehyun exclaims, getting up in an instant, grabbing his baseball bat and looking around the park.

“Hades?” you mumble to yourself, curious as to why he would say the Greek God of the Underworld’s name.

“You told me to lure it to the park!”

“No, I said away from the park!” Jaehyun groans. He seems to have forgotten you’re right behind him, but you know he’s just preoccupied with Johnny at the moment.

“Well, it’s on its way here, you should make sure (Y/N) is protected.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” he groans, turning around abruptly and placing his hands on your forearms — you would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so scared. “You have to get in the tree.”

“What?” you say as you look at the tall tree. “We’re not tall enough to get me in the tree and also I don’t want to. What’s happening, Jae? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Jaehyun scrunches his face in frustration, turning around to point his bat to his friend. “Why can’t you listen to me?”

“Because I’m too busy admiring your beauty,” he sneers.

As they argue, you start to feel a rumble at the bottom of your feet and they feel it too. “Okay, (Y/N)!” Jaehyun turns to face you. “I’m going to help you up the tree.”

“Jaehyun, that’s impossible — ah!” You’re surprised at his strength. He holds you by your calves, balancing you so you can grab the branch with ease. “How am I supposed to get down?!”

“I’ll catch you!” Jaehyun smiles up at you, but it fades as you glare at him. “Just get high up, okay beautiful.” You don’t answer him, but you do as he says.

“I can’t believe you brought the Calydonian Boar here on my date,” you hear Jaehyun scold at Johnny from the ground.

You don’t listen to the rest of their argument; your interest is only searching what boar they were talking about and why it was bad to bring to the park. Your eyes widen as you see what Google gives you. There’s no way that they’re talking about the boar that was killed by a king’s son in Greek mythology. There has to be some other boar named after this Greek monster, but you don’t find anything.

You look down to the ground and you see Jaehyun holds his bat and large mirror, Johnny hold a wrench as you see a basic boar run up to them. But as if suddenly a mist was lifted, you see different things. Instead of a bat and wrench, they hold swords — Jaehyun’s a muted red with a reflective blade and Johnny’s a golden colour with ridges in the blade, it seemed seemed to fit their personalities well. And instead of the mirror Jaehyun held, a reflective shield took its place. You crane your neck to the boar and suddenly it’s also changed into the Calydonian Boar and…no way. It had lightning coming out of its mouth!

You refuse to look down, leaning your head against the tree, looking up into the sky as you try to ignore the sounds from the base of the tree. You don’t understand what’s going on or how it’s happening, but you hope that your date and his friend are okay. From your brief reading on the boar, you know it was hard to kill and that it actually killed some of the hunters when it was hunted the first time.

All of a sudden there’s a cheer from the boys, but you still don’t take your chance at looking down. You don’t know what else this boar could do — it might as well take the appearance of those its just killed and is looking for a new being in yourself.

“Beautiful, it’s okay! You can come down now!”

“I’m fine up here!”

You hear nothing for a while until you feel a hand on your calf. You scream at the touch but quickly stop when you see that it’s Jaehyun. You calm yourself with deep breaths, as Jaehyun sits on your branch. You see that Jaehyun has a bruise on his cheek, a rip in his shirt and pants that appear to be smoking and a burn on his knuckles.

You couldn’t believe that he’s actually messier than before your date.

“You okay?” he asks you, a soft smile on his lips.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” you ask as you take in his appearance once more. You’re pretty sure his shoes were white before and not black.

“Yeah, I guess I have some explaining to do,” he nervously chuckles before taking a deep breath himself.

“I’m a demigod, which means I’m half human and half God — specifically Aphrodite, she’s my mom. Johnny’s also one, we met at this camp for demigods, and he needed help getting rid of this Calydonian Boar which is—”

“I know what it is,” you interrupted, showing him your most recent search. “Continue about your whole demigod thing.”

“You’re taking this awfully well — better than my actual dad.”

“Well, I just experienced it, there’s no reason for me not to believe you,” you chuckled, finally leaning forward and placing your hand on his bare arm that showed through the hole. “Just continue, I’m curious now.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he grimaced. “I wasn’t actually planning on telling you that today. That would be considered a sixth date kind of confession. I obviously didn’t mean for this to happen, and I understand if you don’t want to continue dating—”

You interrupt him once more by leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, your cheeks heating up as you hear Johnny cheer for you from the ground.

“Woah,” he sighs, as he slowly opens his eyes to look into yours. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen.”

“What did you think was going to happen? I was going to stop dating you just because you’re a freaking son of Aphrodite?”

“It’s a lot more than just me being her son,” he states seriously. “Did you see how I killed that boar?”

“I didn’t want to,” you admit, your face scrunching in disgust as you remember peering down for those few seconds.

“I get that,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders as he gracefully jumps off of the branch onto the one just below your one. “You need help?” he asks with a raise of his hand.

“Uh, definitely,” you say as you take his hand to help lead you down the tree. You yelp when he just jumps from the last branch, rolling onto his back like a gymnast and landing elegantly on his feet.

“Okay, beautiful, jump.”

“Can we just get a ladder?” you nervously ask.

“Holy Hera, I actually have a ladder at camp that’s taller than this tree,” Johnny remembers, frowning when he realises that no one is listening to him.

“I can catch you — just jump!” You know that you don’t want to jump, but you do anyway, screaming as you fall into Jaehyun’s arms. “Told you,” he smirks as he brings you down to the ground.

“Okay, well, I’m going to leave you two — I’ll see you around campus!” Johnny says as he leaves you and Jaehyun alone in the park. “And don’t use your charmspeak on poor (Y/N)!”

“Charmspeak?” you repeat, confused at what Johnny meant by that.

“Uh, I’ll tell you some other time,” Jaehyun mumbles.

“So, that was some fight,” you bring up, looking at the destruction of the picnic that the boar caused.

“Do you want to reschedule this date?” he asked you, moving his hands up and down your forearm.

“How about we order take-out and watch Hercules?” you joke as he walks to your apartment with his arm around your shoulder.“It’s actually pronounced Heracles, but I blame that on Disney.”

to celebrate getting 1500 followers on here, i opened up my requests! be prepared for more requested works from me!

© hyuckles-chuckles, 2020. please don’t copy or repost without permission.

[hannahcoursey]

Jealous Minds Part 2

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,391

Request: Hi! Can I put in a request for a dean x reader? Dean and the reader are friends with benefits and neither want a relationship because they’re too much pressure for both of them being hunters. But then during a case, YN runs into an old boyfriend and they actually had a great relationship and broke up because he had to move for work and they both got out to catch up and Dean is super jealous because he wants that same type of relationship with her. (Sorry if it’s too much. LOVE YOUR WORK!!!)                

PART ONE                                                                     

A few hours had passed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for Daryn to pull into the gravel parking lot of the motel. You had put on a nice pair of jeans, without blood or holes, and a nice black tank top. You’d popped in a pair of earrings you always had sitting in the bottom of your bag that you never got to wear. With a few quick swipes of mascara, you were as dolled up as you were going to get. It wasn’t much, but you felt alright and put together for once and a small part of yourself wish you could do this more often. It was nice to feel pretty every now and then, but your lifestyle didn’t call for a nice manicure or decent clothes. Loud pounding on the door pulled you out of your thoughts, as you took one more look at yourself in the mirror before running to open it. The smile fell off your lips when the door revealed Dean. His face was hard, it was obvious he was in deep thought. When he looked up and saw you, his expression softened. The two of you stood there while he took every inch of you in. A heat rose to your cheeks and you cleared your throat. 

“Can I help you with something?” You asked, leaning your arm on the door. Dean’s eyes shot up to yours and he slightly shook his head. 

“I-I just wanted to come and,” he hesitated, licking his lips, “Wish you good luck on your date.” He finished. You rolled your eyes and sighed. 

 “Funny, Dean. See ya.” You turned to shut the door, but his hand sprawled across it. 

“No, I mean it,” He nodded, “I know how much you cared about Daryn, I-I hope that it goes alright.” He said, letting his hand fall away from the door. You stared at him, your brows crunched in confusion of what sort of scheme he was playing at. His eyes darted back and forth between yours as your brain searched for words to string together to respond. When you didn’t say anything, his eyes fell to the ground and he nodded slow. “You look nice.” He said, his lips in a tight smile, “Anyways, have fun.” He finished, before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the doorway. You blinked, trying to process the words that’d just come from his lips. Your heart felt like a cinder block in your chest. You let your hand fall to the door knob and slowly pushed the door shut. You leaned against it, your mind running a million miles a minute. Across the room from you was a dusty mirror, only your reflection stared back at you. Why was your heart pounding in your chest? Why were you even going on this date? Was this even to be considered a date? Before you could answer any of the questions that rattled around in your mind, a loud knock from behind the door you were leaning against shook you out of the deep consciousness you’d fallen into with a jump. Maybe Dean was back - maybe he was going to tell you not to go, that the two of you would spend the rest of the night tangled up in the scratchy motel sheets, whispering throughout the night, stealing kisses on exposed skin. The thought alone had you ready to bolt out of your room to find him. You turned and opened the door, Dean’s name about to fall off your tongue, when your eyes fell on Daryn. 

His eyes shimmered when he saw you, a smile lighting up his face. Your expression dropped for a moment, before you forced a smile. He pulled a small bouquet of roses from behind his back and flashed his picture perfect grin at you. 

“Daryn, these are beautiful,” You shook your head and accepted the gesture, “You shouldn’t have.” You turned and set them down on the table beside you. He threw a hand up and waved. 

“Hey, it’s the least I could do,” He laughed, as you pulled the door shut, locking it behind you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you as if he was memorizing every detail of your face. Color rose to your cheeks and you looked down. “You ready?” He asked, your eyes floating up to meet his again. You nodded and followed him as he walked over to his car, a new sporty car that surely was meant to be impressive. He walked with you to the passenger side and held open the door for you as you got in. Right as you sat down, you heard someone call your name from down the motel strip. You looked around, scanning for someone underneath the overhead flicking lights of the walkway until your gaze fell on Dean. He waved a hand at Daryn, who hesitantly waved in return.

“Have her back by midnight alright? Trust me, you don’t wanna see what she looks like when the fairy godmother’s spell wears off.” He laughed, throwing a wink in your direction sarcastically before turning towards the motel room door and walking in. Daryn pulled open the driver side door and slide in the low-riding seat. His eyebrows were crunched in confusion as he looked over at you.

“So, do you guys usually share rooms or?” He trailed off, the awkward tension in the air filling the small cabin quickly. You felt embarrassment rise to your face as you shook your head, trying to laugh it off.

“No, no, most definitely not, he just was probably grabbing something from the room, I guess,” You struggled to string together a sentence and rubbed your hands against your thighs nervously. Daryn let out a strangled laugh and started the car without saying anything more. You looked out your window, silently cursing the older Winchester as your heart fluttered at the thought of the things the two of you did behind locked motel room doors. 

The ride to the bar was mostly quiet, the sound of the radio filling the spaces where neither of you could manage the right words to say. When you pulled up, Daryn escorted you to a booth in the corner. The place was packed. It was loud, lights strobing every second, making it hard for you to make out where you were walking, and you struggled to imagine how fun it would be to actually get drunk in this type of atmosphere. The bass music of the loud rap made your chest rumble and you found yourself yearning for a biker bar, squeezed between the boys at the bar while classic rock played from a jukebox.

“Y/N? Y/N/N?” Daryn said your name and you shook yourself out of your daydream.

“I-I am so sorry, was I spacing out?” You ran a hand through your hair and took a breath, letting out a light laugh, “Long day, you know how it goes.” You gave him a grin. He nodded and waved down the bartender before turning his attention back to you.

“I was just saying how great you looked tonight,” He said, his tone genuine and inviting. You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face thinking of the memories the two of you shared.

“Well thank you Daryn,” You tucked the hair behind your ears and leaned forward on the table, “You don’t look half bad yourself.” You beamed at him. Before he could answer, the bartender stepped up and asked for your orders.

“I’ll take a-” You began, but Daryn reached out and laid his hand on top of yours, effectively stopping you in your tracks. 

“I’ll take a beer and the beautiful lady will have a Vodka Cranberry please, extra cranberry.” He told the bartender as she nodded and walked off. A feeling you couldn’t put a name to filled your chest. Was it nostalgia? Or was it disappointment? You flashed him a quick smile. “Not too bad for not seeing you for this long, I still remember your favorite drink.” He laughed, reaching over and grabbing your other hand with his other hand, focusing entirely on you. 

“No, I’m impressed, that was pretty good. I gotta tell you though, I’m more of a whiskey bourbon kinda gal these past few years.” You said, trying not to visibly shiver as the thought of a Long Island Iced Tea hangover. His eyes grew wide for a moment before he let out a breath.

“Wow, you?” He shook his head, “Now that surprises me. You could hardly keep it down when we were younger.” He chuckled, bringing back memories of your high school days, sneaking around drinking your parents alcohol. 

“Well yeah,” You snorted, “We were drinking rubbing alcohol it seemed like, we had the nastiest stuff.” You felt yourself thinking of all the times you’d use a fake ID to get the cheapest vodka you could find, only for it to taste twice as bad the second time later on in the night. 

“Yeah, yeah, that led to some pretty rough nights,” He agreed, squeezing your hands softly, “But also some of the best nights too, you know?” He finished, his voice softening as his expression did. And there it was - that same pang in your chest. The more it happened, the more it began to feel like disappointment seeping through your lungs. He stared at you, his iri’s moving from your E/C eyes to your lips. You nodded and pulled your hands out of his, pretending to scratch the back of your neck. He leaned back in the booth, your mind grasping for things to talk about.

“So, what have you been up to? You were at State College for half the first year then disappeared off the face of the earth, no one knew where you went.” He pried, your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. God, anything but that question. You cleared your throat and tried to force eye contact, but the topic proved too difficult. 

“T-That’s a very fair question,” You let out a laugh that came out more like a sigh, “I-I just needed some time off, I traveled for a while,” You said slowly, which wasn;t necessarily a lie, “And just needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.” You finished, trying to tell him as much of the half truth that was possible without getting too much into the nitty-gritty. It was true, technically. You did travel while hunting monsters with the brothers and you did struggle with what you wanted to do for awhile; keep fighting the good fight or take a stab at the apple pie life. He nodded slow, as if he was ingesting what you were telling him and you prayed he wasn’t overanalyzing it too much. The holes in your story would be too large for him not to notice how it didn’t add up. “Anyways,” You scrambled to try to change the subject, “What made you want to become a ranger? I never would have pegged you for the type.” You asked right as the bartender brought over your drinks. He smiled while looking down the neck of his beer, thinking of his answer. Before he had the chance, you phone rang in your pocket. You struggled to get it out of the small compartment of your tight jeans and threw a hand up to him and he nodded. The phone vibrated as Dean’s name flashed across the screen. Throwing your legs off the side of the booth, you made your way outside to answer. 

“Dean?” You tried, holding the phone to one ear while you pressed a hand over the other. Mumbles came through the other end that sounded like gibberish. “Dean, I can’t hear you, gimme a second.” You said, hoping he could make out your words better than you could of his. As soon as your reached the parlor doors to the outside, you called his name again through the phone. “Okay, sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, shoving your hand in your pocket.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice raw, causing your heart to plummet, “Something’s wrong, you need to get back here,” He coughed, hardly audible on the other end. 

“Dean, talk to me, what’s going on?” You asked, panic rising in your tone.

“J-Just come home,” He wheezed before the line went dead. Your hands shook slightly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You turned on your heel and ran through the crowd, bumping into people and elbowing your way through them. When you reached Daryn, his soft expression had turned to a look of confusion.

“Daryn, I have to get back, something’s wrong.” You shook your head, trying to settle your hands as Daryn quickly got up from his seat and threw a few bills down next to your untouched drinks. Without making sure he was following, you raced back to the front doors, beelining to his car. When the both of your reached it, you strapped yourself in and he drove off, leaving dust in the rearview. The drive back to the motel felt like it took hours. When you pulled up to the strip, you noticed the Impala still sitting outside and your feet were on the ground before the car was in park. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears, your eyes scanning the surroundings. You noticed your motel room light was on. You turned to Daryn.

“Listen, I really appreciate you taking me out tonight and I-I’m sorry it had to be cut short, but I need to make sure everythings alright.” You rushed through your words while you managed to throw him a smile over your shoulder.

“Y/N, I can stay and make sure- '' He bega, but the thought of what unnatural force could be inflicting pain onto Dean was enough to make you cut his speech off short.

“No, no, I got it under control - I can call you, you still have the same number?” You spoke fast, trying to politely get to your motel room as quickly as possible. Daryn looked at a loss for words. To see him scrambling to try to spend another minute with you made your chest heavy with guilt, but this was Dean at stake. You turned before he could answer and opened the door so quick, you almost hit the wall behind it yourself. You were in fight mode, ready to rip apart whatever was wreaking havoc, ready to patch up Dean if he needed it, a million thoughts going through your head. Taking in the scene in front of you, the breath you had in your lungs slipped from your lips.

The room was dimly lit by dozens of small candles of all different colors and heights. On the table next to you was the beautiful bouquet from Daryn and a simple rose sitting next to it. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands down his thighs. Your hand fell to your chest as you took a deep breath in.

“Dean,” Your eyes filled with tears that you begged not to slip down your face, “You scared the shit outta me.” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. Dean looked down at his hands.

“I-I know, I didn’t know how else to get you to come back,” He said, his voice low. You couldn’t believe the sight before you and you stood still, taking it all in. “Y/N, I should’ve done this a long time ago, but seeing you with Daryn” He said, shaking his head as he looked up at you, “ I couldn’t take it, watching you leave with him.” He stood up and crossed the small room to you, his hands picking up yours and rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. “I don’t have the fast car and the big bouquet and all that crap - but the way I feel about you,” He struggled to find the words and you knew that all of the effort he’d already put into this gesture was big for him, “What I can offer you is to always be there for you, to always stitch you up, to make sure you’re not alone when you wake up in the mornings - We don’t have to do this stuff alone Y/N and we’re crazy for thinking we had to.” He shook his head and his warm hand cupped your cheek. “I wanna do this with you, I mean it.” He finished, his eyes anxiously looking into yours, waiting for your response. Even in this lighting, his eyes were bright and lively, his nose peppered with the freckles you’ve loved since you noticed them the day you met him. Bringing your hand up to his other cheek, you pulled him in, your lips colliding together as if it were the first time. His other hand found its way to the side of your head and his fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you in, passion filling your every movement. You pulled away, a few tears making their way down your flush cheeks.

“I would love to Dean,” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, “I’ve been in love with you since I laid eyes on you.” You smiled, your heart beating loudly at the confessions the two of you were sharing. He leaned back and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

“God, me too sweetheart.” He mumbled into the kiss, before pulling away and taking in every inch of your face before letting go of your hands and moving to the bed. Out of a small plastic bag, he pulled out a few styrofoam containers. “Got you your favorite,” He spoke as he opened the containers, spreading them around the bed. Two burgers sat in their separate containers with fries, and a few slices of pie in the other. You walked over and sat on the bed with him as he laid the food out and sat next to you. 

“Mhhh, bacon cheeseburger.” You took a deep breath in, the aroma of the greasy food filling the room. He rubbed your back, smiling.

“Extra bacon, the usual.” He laughed, still looking at you. You turned to him and kissed him once more, the feeling of his lips against yours making your heart drop to your toes. When you pulled away, his eyes were still shut, savoring every kiss the two of you shared.

“I am so in love with you, I hope you know.” You whispered, still close to his face. He blinked slow and a lazy grin crossed his features.

“I know.” He replied, his sarcasm causing you to throw your head back and let out a laugh. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You replied, smacking his shoulder. He took a deep breath and looked at the candles around you.

“Now can I blow these out? It’s starting to smell like a friggin’ hallmark movie in here it’s nauseating.” He grumbled, your laugh filling the room as you shook your head at him.You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he went around to each of the candles and huffed them out.

You put on the tv and played the first movie that popped up and thought about all of the choices you’ve made in your life that got you to this exact moment. Life with the Winchester boys isn't for everyone. The life you lived was fast and dangerous, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. With Dean’s arms around you, shitty take out food in front of you and a whole life to share with him ahead, you found yourself filled with the sort of peace you didn’t think you’d ever get your hands on. 

----

Hope you guys liked it! My requests are always open!

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt 19)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19 | Pt 20 

(A/n): This has been in my drafts for the past week, debating if I wanna post this or not, ‘cause it’s a bit of a filler but I also gotta feed my readers at some point in time y’know lol! 

The pining is almost endless I feel bad. Just a little. 

 Also the only time my irl knowledge in tkd comes in handy is now, and still shits on my lack of ability to write anything having to do with action lol.

Once again, let me know what you think!! Love you all a bunch <3

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The sun hits your eyes through the blinds the very next morning. As your eyelids flutter open, you reminisce the happenings of last night. 

“Will you forgive me then?” Jungkook’s voice had asked quietly after a moment of silence, the both of you busying yourselves at that time with staring at the night sky. The way he glanced at you in search of an answer stole your breath. 

His eyes shimmered with a glint of his azure glow so quick, you wondered if he’d even shown his true colors in the first place. You admire the way they hold so much emotion, vulnerability. Outwardly, he’s closed off, a defense mechanism after hurting Hyejin and his pack, in order to protect others and himself from going crazy. His gaze that constantly shifted between an earthy cedar and a roaring sea, you loved them all.  In the beginning, they appeared cold and lonely, but fuck all if you didn’t love the way they reflected the light of the moon and the stars. Even the emotions you had yet to witness, it was bound to be as beautiful as what he’s allowed you to see.

“Hm… I don’t know…”  You had answered back with a teasing lilt to your smile. The wolf had visibly been taken aback by the reply, wondering if he was being too indecisive. The panic that crosses his expression is so apparent that you can’t help but find it too cute. The bubble of a giggle soothes him, his shoulders sink with relief, eyes drinking up the beginnings of a smile that graces your lips.

Better than before, the air between you both had finally begun to calm and it felt more serene and secure, just as it was before this whole mess.

“Come back to us, (Y/n),” He said, more like a command than a request, but the way he whispered your name that time sent you soaring. The way the syllables of your name sounded on his tongue seemed almost unrealistic. You almost forgotten that he was fated to another lucky woman. 

Until Jimin interrupted the two of you of course. 

Both of you went rigid when Jimin’s messy brunette hair pops up from the edge of the roof. 

“You both are real loud you know?” His smile is goofy as he wiggles his eyebrows at the two, “You know… ‘cause us were-creatures have enhanced hearing.” He taps his right ear with a smirk before taking his leave when a growl emits from Jungkook’s chest. 

Glaring up at the familiar ceiling, Jungkook’s ceiling, you missed the sense of security you felt laying in his bed. His sheets, dare you say creepily, were drenched in his scent. Vanilla and a twist of floral, not the scent you’d expect of a growing boy, but you grew fond of it nonetheless as you continued to stay with the boys. 

You hadn’t realized it until now, the inexplicable warmth curled around your body. Turning over, you don’t expect Jungkook’s giant wolf form lying asleep behind you. 

How unexpected, you think, despite all this, the hybrid sleeping in the same bed as you was the most least likely to happen after all the tension between you both. If you recalled correctly as well, Jungkook was very adamant on sleeping on the floor last night.

Shades of pink blossom over your cheeks, a warm sensation settling in your chest as you reach out a hand to gently stroke your fingers over his fur. Soft. It doesn’t even feel like he’s a wolf, more like an extremely oversized puppy. His ears twitch at the sudden stimulation, and you’re suddenly aware that his tail had been curled over your hip. The long appendage rises and falls, wagging just slightly as you snicker softly and move to scratch your fingers behind his ear. 

An azure eye peers open, and his tail immediately halts before it can fall back over your side. He seems to grow increasingly aware that he’d slipped onto the bed in the middle of the night and despite his less expressive state as a wolf, he turns away in embarrassment. You, however, take this as disturbing his sleep. Smiling softly, you sift your fingers one last time down his spine with a whispered apology and good morning before getting up to head downstairs for some breakfast. 

A puff of air shoots from his nostrils, mimicking a sigh as he watches you glance back at him one more time before closing the door softly behind you. He’s hyper aware of you bumping into Hoseok at the stairs, no thanks to his enhanced hearing, and feels his tail bristling with jealousy when he can hear Hoseok laughing with you about something he hadn’t cared to remember.

“Are you a dumbass?” 

Jimin stood up from his seat, chopsticks clattering on the ground as his eyes flashed a dangerous gold hue at the hybrid. Namjoon stays steely, taken to resting his chin on his knuckles, eyes watching patiently as Seokjin pries their chairs further away from one another.

“I thought I’d spare her the pain knowing that a disgusting monster like me imprinted on her.”

“Spare her the pain? Are you sure you’re not trying to protect yourself from the possibility that she might reject you? Don’t even try to convince yourself that you’re pushing her away because you want to protect her,” Yoongi scoffs this time, his face doesn’t show it but his eyes swirl with a relentless storm, anger and disappointment as the younger scowls back at him. The hybrid doesn’t have a comeback, because he and everyone at the table knows that Yoongi’s right.

“She’s a mortal,” Hoseok speaks up, trying to lift the tension between his pack mates, although he was also quite upset at Jungkook’s childish and self-deprecating tendencies, “He has some right to being scared, she doesn’t feel the pull like he does, she might run away or have second thoughts about his feelings.”

“You do… like her… right?” he asks a little tentatively this time. All eyes turn to the youngest, eager and curious. He almost feels intimidated like he wants to shrivel up until the floor swallowed him whole. He can’t even bother trying to lie in front of them either, not when there were two vampires and a warlock that could force the truth out of him if need be.

“I do. So much it hurts. Ever since I decided that she and Hyejin are two different people and merely a present and a past, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, she’s all I can think about and I hate it. But I’m scared, I’m so scared, I don’t wanna hurt her. I was angry initially, frustrated, and torn. Why did the stars give me someone I could just as easily kill? I wanted to hate her, but I can’t. 

“She thinks I imprinted on Hyejin and I’m such a big dumbass I can’t bring myself to tell her that it’s her. She’s gonna think I’m playing with her, that I was only forced to like her. But fuck do I like her, it’s ruining me, smelling Yoongi’s scent on her made me so angry, I wanted to hurt you hyung, why does she smell like you when it should be me? I’ve messed up… but I can’t even trust myself around her.”

“Then tell her Kook-ah,” Seokjin smiles softly, “Obviously not that you imprinted on her since you’re obviously not ready yet… just that you’re not ready yet to disclose that part of yourself yet, I’m sure she’ll understand as long as you’re not simply pushing her away without saying anything.”

“Yeah Kookie! She’s a teenage girl, she’ll be more hurt that you continue to shut her out.”

Yoongi catches the teen once everyone had said their fill, motioning him to follow the elder into the thicket until they reached what was once the clearing where you and Jungkook had fought for your lives against the hunters. Seokjin had meant his word and returned to the area and cleaned up, no bodies, no damage from magic or fighting. Trees covered the area as though two meteors did not just come raining. Kneeling down, he sighed at his own reflection in the pond, the vibrant colors of the fish greeting his eyes. 

“I think you make her out to be a lot more weak than she really is, you know?” Yoongi finally says, standing at the top of the hill with his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. His eyes stare down at the water, his gaze pinned on the pond skater racing back and forth on the surface. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed in you, but you’re smarter than that.”

“I’m glad you took my food for thought and finally used your brains to realize what (Y/n) means to you, but I think you’re underestimating her a little too much.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but the withering glance from the older wolf has him deflating and clamping his mouth shut once more.

“I get it, but she’s been taking everything handed to her head on, the girl just found out she was a siphoner, had to fight her dead mother, and she’s just now trying to get the hang of using her abilities. You don’t think she can handle a little confession?”

The hybrid scoffed this time, tossing a pebble into the water. Its inhabitants fled the area as the rock broke past the surface with gentle ripples. “It’s not just a confession. You forget that she’s still mortal with human feelings. Hoseok-hyung said himself. She doesn’t full that pull and it will only confuse her. She’ll start thinking about the unnecessary like what if my feelings are all a lie. It’s not really me who likes her, it’s my wolf.”

“But you do like her?”

“I do! So fucking much it’s tearing me apart!”

Yoongi tapped Jungkook on the shoulder, waiting for the younger to turn before sending him stumbling into the pond with punch to his face. Slipping on the uneven ground, the boy fell backwards onto his rear with a large splash. Water goes flying from his sudden weight and he’s soaked from head to toe, simmering in the pond as he glares at the elder.

“Now that’s a look,” he chuckles, “Cool off a little will you? There’s nothing wrong with telling her, do it at your own pace sure, but you know you’re inevitably going to have to tell her someday. If she questions it, all you have to do is prove that you like her with or without the pull of your wolf.”

“Rejection is harsh, but seeing her move on without you is even harder, but she’s your soulmate in simpler terms, you just need to grow a pair. She can handle you, you just don’t give her the credit she deserves, you ass.”

Yoongi bends down to offer the boy a hand, to which Jungkook relents his glare and clasps his hand in the other’s. He should have seen it coming as the elder is yanked forward, head first diving into the pond. 

“You little fucker!”

“That’s what you fucking get, asshole.”

The two stare at each other pensively before bursting into laughter. Yoongi smiles softly at the younger, eyes warm as he nudges the boy with his fist.

“Still, I can’t believe I get to see the day you get all mushy over your imprintee”

“H-hyung!”

“I know Hyejin was something else, but still, you lucky bastard I still haven’t found my own mate yet.”

Jungkook stretched with a drawn out yawn, bones melding together and steam unfurling from his bare skin. Eyes struggling to stay open, he scratches and ruffles his hair before finding the energy to get up from bed. Looking for clothes, he pondered over the thought.

Was he really underestimating you?

“Glad to have you back,” Seokjin greets when you appear in the kitchen, offering to help as he prepares breakfast for all the boys. The warlock happily lets you set up the table with side dishes as he finished up the main plates. 

“Sorry for worrying everyone,” You say a bit hesitantly when you finally face the warlock. It hadn’t caught up to you just yet, but being around the boys again reminded you of how childish you were for running away like that.

“Don’t be, Kook’s just an idiot,” Taehyung hums when he walks in, ruffling his already messy hair as he yawns and rummages through the fridge. Returning to his full height, he winked your way while dangling a pouch of pork blood in between his two fingers. “If you get tired of waiting on him, I’ll always be an option.”

“There will be no options when I rip your head off,” Jungkook’s growl enters abruptly, startling you as you greeted him warmly. Releasing the vampire from his withering glare, he refocused his attention on you with a soft gleam in his chocolate gaze. 

“How scary,” Taehyung whines in feigned fear, emphasizing a shiver as he pierces the pouch with a straw, “And here I thought you let me off the hook for forcing her memories out.”

“And then shoving them back in you fuckhead!”

The two bicker and you can only muffle a giggle at how lively they are in the morning. You don’t realize the addition of another aura, until Namjoon’s large hand is gently squeezing your shoulder. You turn to look up to him, slightly surprised by his sudden entrance. If you didn’t know any better, the warmth of his smile that matched the gentleness in his dark eyes nearly made you forget that he was the vampiric leader of this rowdy bunch.

“At the very least they’re back to normal,” his deep voice rumbles with the ghost of a pleasant chuckle, “Yesterday was a little… tense… so let’s not run away again, yeah?”

“Y-yes sir!” You gulp, expecting his eyes to flash gold, but he merely laughs at your apparent fear.

“(Y/n), lighten up, I only say that since we are protecting you, the recent attack has us all on edge, you know. Jungkook’s a prick but nothing’s stopped you until now right? He’s just a bit... dumb.”

“I heard that hyung!”

Namjoon raises his hand from your shoulder quickly, holding it up with a cheeky grin when Jungkook turns his glare over to the blatant hand on your shoulder.

“Heel puppy,” Taehyung tsks, rolling his eyes at the youngest’s irritation. The second youngest moves to take a seat at the table when Jungkook elbows him, causing him to momentarily choke on his blood.

“Oh my Gods you children,” Seokjin sighs exasperatedly as the two bicker once more, whispering a silent spell that none too gently shoves them into the dining table chairs. The eldest shakes his head in disapproval as they pout and stare each other down.

The rest of the boys coming bounding into the room, at least on Hoseok and Jimin’s part. Yoongi could barely go a second without his mouth opening wide in a long yawn, dragging his feet and falling onto the chair with a slump.

Breakfast came and went, and you can only think about how fond you were starting to become of this scene. In the beginning, when you had first started staying with the pack, this scene felt weird. Like an outsider intruding on a happy family. But Hoseok was boasting to you about the dream he’d just had, and Jimin was conversing about the recent cartoon on television last night. It didn’t hit you when Jungkook had said it last night that the boys saw you as their own pack member. You didn’t even realize it until Jimin’s voice had melted into concern, blinking at you as others turned away from their conversations and breakfast to regard you with the same confusion and worry. 

“Hey, (Y/n), you’re crying, are you okay?”

You remembered Taehyung’s comforting words on the morning after the first attack.

“Family is Yahiko, family is us. That is… if you see us that way…” He said with a meek smile that day, “A family should be a place or people you can go home to and feel safe and loved. Evidently, the Blackwells do none of that.”

Then Jungkook’s words from last night.

“Then don’t hate yourself for being a burden to the pack, you’re not just a guest in our house now, you’re pretty much a pack member. The boys don’t treat you any differently than they would each other.”

Yahiko had been your only family up until now. Then Hyejin. Then Jungkook and the rest of the boys. Without your memories, you forgot what it was like to have a mother and a father, besides the ever doting kitsune who beckoned you to try liver and intestines, siblings and whatnot. Although you did have your mother before your memories were sealed, your coven brothers and sisters barely wanted to associate with you. Until now, you hadn’t thought about how the pack saw you, and you only thought that they were forced to have to keep you around and protect you because on your own, you had nothing and knew only the basis of what you could do as a siphoner. It all seemed obligatory from the start.

Maybe. Just maybe you found a place to belong with them. 

“I’m okay… just I’m sorry for causing so much panic yesterday…” You smiled meekly, accepting the napkin from Hoseok and wiping away the wet trails your tears had left in their wake. 

Would it be selfish to want to stay? 

“Hey, if you’re up for it, we can start some self defense training after you get home from school okay?” Seokjin says, offering a brief hug as the four of you prepare to leave for the day. You reply with a nod, much happier than you were minutes prior. 

Would it be too much to want to be with them even after all this is over?

“You’re such a cry baby,” Jungkook comments during lunch with Hyejin clinging to your side, the two exchange menacing leers with stuck out tongue from your best friend and a finger pulling down his eye lid from the male’s part. 

“I was being sentimental jerk,” You scoff, forcing your brows to scrunch in mock annoyance. 

“You were sentimental enough last night, quit it,” He frowns. In reality, he felt like he was being torn into two at the sight of tears. 

Hyejin rolls her eyes at them, “Would you two just make out already or something?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks as did Jungkook’s, the ghost of a blush blossoming over his cheeks as he weakly glared at the girl. Jimin burst into obnoxious laughter, Taehyung looking away to very poorly muffle his own chuckle. 

I would if I could, you both thought, neither having enough courage to look the other in the eye right now. 

No no no, I told him I’d give him time to sort himself out, he has his own imprintee, I can’t just do that, you think to yourself.

What the fuck is wrong with you, you dumbass dog, Jungkook groans inwardly at his own reaction and thoughts. He’d be a liar if he denied wanting to, heavens above he’s wanted to for so long. Only problem was, if he started, he wasn’t sure if he could keep his hands away. Fuck, he was ready to combust right then and there. The image of your lips, their plush pressed against his, setting him on fire the same way he had when he first set eyes on you, stayed engraved into his mind. 

The remainder of his classes were spent distracted, half paying attention when he found his eyes drawing towards your form hunched over the desk beside him or even across the room with Hyejin beside you. By the time Potions had come around, he was ready to smash a flask into his face.

To rub salt to injury, Seokjin asked him to help out in training you. 

“I know we’re gonna be facing witches, who are more likely to attack using spells, but I just want you to be able to defend yourself if something like those bounty hunters happen again,” the warlock explains as the hybrid fidgets in his spot beside the elder, “We’ll keep studying and practicing some defensive and offensive skills, so you can get the hang of using your magic more often.”

Despite the obvious tension between the two of you, Seokjin teaches you how to punch correctly and to specific points like the inside of the arm. Jungkook forces down his heart in his throat and does his best to be your sparring partner.

Using a spell that covers your flesh in a layer of magic that protects you from the brunt of Jungkook’s punch and kick, Seokjin directs you and guides your body into a balanced stance. It helps make sure you don’t get knocked back too easily, as he fixes the awkward angle of your arm in a better block.

By the next day, Seokjin has you moving onto redirection and throws. You’re still a little sloppy at blocking and dodging, but he smiles and assures you that with more practice you’ll start getting the hang of it. He has Jungkook throwing punches your way for you to use your hand to push it aside. 

“Chances are, your attacker might be just a large as this brick wall,” the warlock grins as the hybrid frowns, “And I don’t expect you to be able to lift him with just brute strength, but you can use his weight to your advantage and be able to flip him over your shoulder, as well as knock him down.”

Jungkook can barely concentrate on what the elder is explaining, his senses overwhelmed at the close proximity with his arm around your neck in a mock choke. Your scent invades his nose, the beginnings of a blush crawling up his neck as your fingers curl over his forearm, pulling him down as you spread your feet into a base stance. Your right hand twists around the shoulder of his sleeve, pushing your hips back into his. 

“Good good, he’s off balance, now take use of that to step forward with your right and throw him.”

The hybrid is too distracted to realize what’s happening, when his world goes flying and suddenly he’s on his back and you’re on your knees beside him, hands still curled on his arm and shoulder.

“Perfect! Just don’t fall with him too!” Seokin chuckles as you bow in response and offer the wolf a hand. Not wanting to be rude, he gives in and clasps his hand over yours, wincing when his heart pounds at the simple touch of your skin on his. Your skin retreats from his, but the skin of his palm is still tingling with what’s left of your lingering warmth. 

Damn the mutt inside him. 

“A-are you okay?” You ask worriedly, noticing how spaced out he was.

“I’m fine, that was one helluvah throw though,” He says with a tight lipped smile, knowing he was very well distracted by holding you close like that. 

“Alright you two, if you’re done chatting, we can do a few more throws and try some leg sweeps.”

True to his word, you have your left arm splayed across Jungkook’s chest, holding his left arm with your right. Pressing against him, your leg moves forward before swinging back against Jungkook’s, swiping it from the ground. The pressure of your left forces him down, moving your hand the way Seokjin had instructed around his head and guiding him down. 

It was exhilarating, although in a controlled and safe environment, you felt confident being able to take down Jungkook. Although he obviously wasn’t putting that much resistance, you felt a little more safer being able to know such techniques. 

“How you feeling?” He asks nonchalantly when you get ready for bed that night. The hybrid made it routine to sleep on the floor in wolf form now, only to always end up crawling onto the bed in the middle of the night right after. Despite knowing his clothes were only going to be kicked under the bed after he turns, he settles on the foot of the bed to chat for a little.

You offer him a smile, drying off your damp hair after a much needed shower, “Muscles a little sore, but I’m glad to be able to learn how to defend myself when the time finally comes, you know.”

“That’s good,” He mumbles, unsure what else to say without sounding weird or desperate. Hey I really like the way you slammed me into the ground today or wow you looked so fucking hot standing above me. Oh heavens what even was that last thought? 

“You seem pretty versed in fighting, I mean you were always good… not that you were ever bad or anything… you held your own against those two hunters really well… and er… okay I’m gonna shut my mouth now.”

He couldn’t help his own sputter, a small pfft passed through his hand covering over his mouth. The attempts to muffle his amusement failed and he noticed the way you weakly glare at his reaction.

“I enjoyed Taekwondo when I was younger, they were wary of me as a supernatural, so I mostly practiced by myself or with Junghyun, and… after that…” His voice faltered momentarily and you can guess what he was referring to, “I practiced with Namjoon and Hoseok sometimes. Times are peaceful now though, so I never really had a reason to fight seriously until your dumbass came around.”

“Okay, listen, I did not ask to be attacked like this,” You frown at his jab.

“You played yourself for even breathing,” He cracks a subtle smile that you take in greedily. This was good. This was very good progress. You both were talking, and he even showed just a minuscule of emotion. Something was better than nothing at all. 

“For someone who’s never had to fight or protect themself, you’re doing pretty well,” He says after a moment of silence, eyes peering over to you, “A little more practice and I might actually feel a pinch when you hit me.” He cracks a mischievous quirk at the corner of his lips with a subtle twitch of his eyebrow. 

You however, puff out your cheeks and launch one of his pillows at him.

When Jungkook has long curled up in his wolf form, lying at the foot of the bed while you take up your usual spot on his bed, he’s abruptly awoken by the heavy musk of distress. Marine eyes fly open in alarm, darting back and forth within the darkness of his room. His dry nose twitches in recognition of the obvious discomforting scent. Ears flicking, he raises his head to glance towards the bed where you lay. 

As he thought, you’re tossing around, curling into a fetal position. Your breath hitches, eyebrows furrowing from what he can tell in the dark. 

Knowing himself, he can’t just leave you alone. Not like he was able to stay away anyways, always waking up curled beside you on the bed for the past few mornings. The lack of self control was astounding. 

And just like those nights, he rises from his position, shaking his head briefly before stepping onto the bed. The frame whines at the added weight, mattress dipping as he crawls to your side. Silently letting his large body curl around you, tail swishing in excitement before falling over your form, he settles comfortably. His azure gaze is hooded, watching as you toss once more before finding his warmth and relaxing against him. 

What were you dreaming about? He wonders as his mouth opens in a long yawn. 

What has you so antsy at night, even when you were long unconscious and deep asleep?

Maybe he’ll ask tomorrow.

Morning falls over the cabin once more, the day passing as you attend school and return to another day of training. 

“Alright, hope you know how to clench your teeth, a lot of physical fights end up on the ground, so we’re gonna practice some falls and then some ground fighting.”

Some what?

“Clench your teeth Kookie-ah!”

.

.

Tags!! (Let me know if you want to be added or if I forgot you!!) 

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[tasteslikemolecules]

8 12 13 for the spn asks. Please tag me @boykingsofhell so I can see your response <3

@boykingsofhell  - I have to do this in two parts because it got really long...

8. If you could remove one season of supernatural, which one would it be and why?

I would not remove any season of Supernatural if given the choice. I actually think it's an overall good show with some bonkers storylines and some boring episodes, but there's things I appreciate in every season. So if it was a choice, I'd remove none. But if I had to go with one:

My least favourite season to watch is probably the first one. If my friend hadn't told me “Just make it through the first season, I promise it will get good after“ I would have bailed on the show as quickly as I did back when it first aired. Every re-watch I have to force myself a little bit not to skip some of it. Partly it's just a show finding its groove - no one would bat an eye at wanting to skip the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, everyone knows that one was wonky as hell, but somehow the SPN fandom is really protective of the first season's impeccability.

I'm not a big fan of the strict Monster of the Week format and I miss having an overarching story (”finding Dad“ is little more than the initial premise to get Sam to hunt again), but mostly I just don't like the genre much: it' so much more of a horror crime show than the dark fantasy one it becomes later on. I get annoyed by all the “woman screams her heart out“ moments and the other horror tropes. The scenery is great, the colouring is beautiful and the relationship between Sam and Dean is fascinating but the actual plots of the episodes? The dialogue? Phew. There's outliers: “Faith“ is great and so is “Nightmare“ (thanks Sera Gamble), and I like “The Bunders“ but there's hardly any of the stuff that I really love about the show, there's only hints of something good to come. 

I'm not saying it's a bad season - I'd go as far and say there is only one really bad episode (monster trucks...), but it's a consistent season of a kind of show I wouldn't care about if it hadn't gone on. It feels dated in ways that season 2 and 3 don't (not just Dean's outright misogyny, although I always find that kind of, um, honest?). But I also care less about the season because I care less about Sam and Dean. I don't even really like Sam yet. I got sympathy for him, sure, but they're still almost... too normal? Narrative wise it makes sense: They're at a point where they had a fucked up childhood and youth, but they still could get away and be kind of normal. Dean could in theory become a regular hunter and Sam could have his normal life away from it all, and they'd have a history of growing up too close to a sibling, but it would be kind of fine. It all feels pretty safe, relatively speaking. No hell traumas. No dying for each other. I guess I need the stakes higher then they ever are in season 1.

But of course I couldn't remove season 1 because there would be a gaping hole where backstory should be. So unless I just got a better first season in return (and I'm not sure what that would even look like) I'd have to go with removing season 14. 

I'd mourn some episodes and some Sam and Cas interaction specifically, but I don't like the overarching story and I think it's the strangest most muddled season of all. Almost everything I want to see happens in between the episodes, as if someone forgot to put the camera on the interesting stuff that IS happening somewhere off-screen.

"Stranger in a Strange Land" was a great opener for a season that doesn't exist. I didn't mind Jensen's Michael as much as some people did, and I would have liked them to explore that for a little bit instead of, well, I'm not sure what they actually went for, because it's so incohesive. 

I really like when the show seperates Sam and Dean for a bit, and the breathing space it gives while also giving a new tension – because you know they must find their ways back to each other. And I wish the show had been more courageous, in any season really but especially here, to allow that seperation to go on for at least a few episodes (I guess they did do a slighlty longer seperation with Soulless Sam but that was still kindof/partly Sam working with Dean). 

I love season 13 a lot and I would have loved to see and know more about the time between 13 and 14. I'm fascinated by the glimpses we get of Sam desperate to get Dean back and not sleeping while running a hunter basis in the bunker and training people and feeling bad about failing Jack (as Mary says: parental guilt). Season 14 has so many starting points and so much potential and squanders almost all of it. Lucifer and Nick – why did we get so many pointless Nick scenes when the real horror for Sam was cut so short? Most of all, I hate how they handled Dean and Jack. They wanted to have their cake and eat it too. They wanted to say Dean loved Jack “like a father“ but he also wanted to kill him from the first episode to the last. And they didn't want to work on making that plausible at all. I can only watch the whole thing and make any sense of it if I assume Dean is lying for the benefit of Sam whenever he claims he has any feelings of Jack being “family“. That when Jack dies, he's sad because he knows Sam and Cas are hurting and also because Dean feels like he failed a task – not because he cared about Jack as a person. Season 14 painted Dean like an antagonist and villian all the time, in so many ways, and then always tried to take it back in the last second. It makes me furious to think about it. On a positive note: all of the flaws make season 14 perfect for fix its. There’s like 10 great plot seeds somewhere and a lot of angst and anger and a lot of weird weird Sam and Dean shit that I love the implications of, but it’s buried under horrible story telling and weird coloring. It’s like the writers were all playing a round of Telephone. 

And, and I will repeat this until eventually I'll find someone who agrees with me: the music in season 14 was so distractingly bad. Can't hear the Anthem of Europe anymore without getting semi-war flashbacks to that 'we're going to beat Michael' walk in the car park (?).

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Hotel Rooms and Pins

Being so close to the Republic of Padokea was strange. In the far off distance, I could almost see the outline of Kukuroo Mountain. Heaven’s Arena was on the same continent as where I was held captive for so long. We had been traveling here ever since the day after Chrollo and I’s ‘date.’ 

Most of the walking was dedicated to my thought process on how I would speak to Illumi once I was there. Many times during the trip, Machi had stopped to ask what was on my mind. As much as I wanted to tell her, I couldn’t. My revelation needed to be discussed with Illumi first. 

The only solace was the bickering between Machi and Shalnark. They seem like old best friends even though they have almost nothing in common. Since we had such a long trip, Shalnark had brought along a handheld gaming system. He only brought it out when we were on a transportation method; however, if Chrollo would let him, he’d be playing while we were walking. 

Heaven’s Arena was a massive structure that could only be truly seen through squinted eyes as it went to the sun. “Finally here,” said Shalnark in a chipper tone. “I can finally play my games in peace!”

“I can’t help it if I’m better at them than you,” joked Machi. I rolled my eyes at the typical scenario. She only said that to tick him off. And, of course, it did. Chrollo didn’t care about the back and forth. Instead, his focus was only on the arena. 

“You ready?” I asked him. He held a cold, stoic demeanor but I could feel tension. 

“Yes,” he said. “Are you?”

“No,” I confessed. “I still haven’t planned what I’ll say.”

Chrollo chuckled before taking steps to walk into the arena. Kortopi and I followed while Machi and Shalnark were still fighting over her comment. I doubted that they would be coming anytime soon. 

The front guest lady treated Chrollo and his guests like royalty: the perk of being a floor leader. We were taken to this room close to the top floor. The skyline was a beautiful mess of city and country. From this vantage point, it was almost impossible to not see the mountain that held the family of assassins. Chrollo had yet to tell me what Illumi would be at this fight. He had also neglected to tell me who he would be fighting. 

“Nice room boss,” said Kortopi. He was easily scouring around the room in hopes of finding treasure that was held within the inclosed space. He easily found a vase and started to make a copy. 

“Don’t waste your Nen,” replied Chrollo as he stood beside me while I looked out at the ground. “I’ll borrow it from you when you get a chance. You might need to get Salnark to come up here because one of them is going to die if we don’t check on the two.” Kortopi nodded his head. His hair flying in all directions before scurrying out of the room to get the bickering members. 

“How do you know Illumi will be here?” It was the question that plagued my mind ever since I’d been invited on this journey. 

“Because my opponent is Hisoka.” His words were as poignant and void of any emotion. I remember back to my meeting of Hisoka many weeks ago. Machi and his pissing match was all I could remember of the killer clown. 

“And?”

“Illumi and him have an interesting relationship.” Chrollo walked back to the single bed in the room and sat down. His eyes were transfixed on the black, leather book that lay within his hands. “Illumi would not miss this fight for the world.” 

I decided not to press the topic further due to Chrollo’s furrowing demeanor and hurried hands. The typical strong man was going over his notes again and again. His study was like a master musician playing an strenuous instrument. I could see the gears of preparation moving deep within the recesses of his mind. Even though he said he wasn’t worried, there was a thin crease on his brow. 

I found myself to become occupied within the context of my own mind. If Illumi was to be here, then when would he arrive. What if he was already here? Would I run into him as I go to the snack machine down the hall? If so, I have to figure out the best words to say what I feel. Coming out with love would be a bit too strong for someone who hasn’t text or talked in a week. 

Machi, Shalnark and Kortopi finally showed up after thirty minutes. My guess was that it took that long for them to calm down enough to be in the same elevator. The flight up was a little long. 

“So Boss,” said Machi, taking a seat on a chair that was next to a small kitchen set within the room. “We saw Hisoka entering the building a little bit ago.”

“It has begun,” smirked Chrollo before standing up. “I must talk to the people in charge about a few preparations for the fights. I have one host that I like a lot more than others. I’ll be back before the fight so that I can borrow Shalnark and Kortopi’s Nen. In the meantime, enjoy the space.”

The three seemed uninterested. It’s like they knew this place more than anyone else here. “Oh, Y/N,” said Chrollo. “I told the others but do not be in the arena for the fight. Watch it on the screen. Make sure anyone you want to be alive does that as well.”

With that final word, Chrollo disappeared. It was a warning that I should find Illumi before the fight. From the T.V that Shalnark had turned on, the announcer said that the fight would be happening in a day. I had 24 hours to find Illumi and make sure he is not in the arena tomorrow.. 

--------------------------------------

I told the rest of the team that I was going to take a walk throughout the hotel to find something to eat. It was a lie but Machi wouldn’t appreciate what I was actually doing. I made sure to note where the room was before I went on my grandiose adventure to find him. 

My first stop was the ground floor to see if anyone had seen him. The response of the workers was that no one by that name had registered for a fight or had purchased a ticket to see the fight. 

My next idea was to continually wander the hallways until I found him. I peaked my head into a few matches to see if he was there. None of the arena’s held Illumi. As tall as this building was, the prospect of finding him was getting smaller and smaller. 

By the time that I had reached the 200th floor, I had yet to see any source of the long haired man. I was becoming tired and hungry. I was going to give up my search when I noticed a red headed clown standing at the end of the hallway. 

“Hisoka!” I couldn’t tell if my cry was out of fear or excitement. If Illumi and him did have a friendship then he might know where Illumi could be. My outburst had caused his attention to be turned away from whatever his goal was before. 

“Oh hello~. I can’t believe that Illu would bring you to this fight.”

“He didn't,'' I said. 

“Then I’m even more surprised that you were able to get up to the 200 floor. I would’ve knocked you out by the third~.”

“-No,” I interrupt. “I’m not a fighter either. I’m here to find Illumi. Have you seen him or know where he might be?”

A sly smile crossed his painted face. It was a smile that would kill someone if they looked at him the wrong way. Here I was asking a murder for advice on my assassin significant other. No. We were broken up. My assassin ex. “My information comes at a cost~. Why do you want to know here poor Illu is?”

I sigh knowing that this was my only lead. The vibes he gave off sent a shiver down my spine. If I was smart, I would head back and find Machi. Hisoka gave off more powerful vibes than Illumi ever did. It must be their personalities. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why aren’t you with Illu~. Decide you were too good for him?” Hisoka put emphasis on his statement with a wink. 

“No,” I stutter at his boldness. However, Hisoka was right. I did decide I was too good for him. That is the reason I left. Now I want him back. “Well yes, “ I corrected. “It was a mutual thing. Now I want to see him.”

“Ah Illu~” Hisoka sighed dramatically. “He needs to learn how to keep a girl. I should show him after the fight-”

“-I told you so where is he?”

“My. my, little Illumi found himself a spitfire. I always thought he’d get a submissive girl. Maybe you are more interesting than I gave you credit~.”

I sighed and realized that he was not going to give me the information that I wanted. A sad state of affairs that made my bones ache even more. Only a few hundred more rooms to look through before I’d give up for the night. 

“Check under the name Gittarackur. He should be in room 275,” the clown called from down the hall. I didn’t give him the decency of a response. Instead, I went to the elevator and started my ascension to Illumi’s floor. 

-------------------------------------

My heart pounded as the elevator climbed to the floor. After all this time looking, I still hadn’t found the correct words to say in order to make him want to stay with me. I was stuck between confessing my love and telling him off for leaving me alone. I glanced at my reflection in the warped metal hung on the sides. I looked a lot more tired than I did when I lived with him. The phantom troupe tries to stay hidden so they don’t eat as much as other people. My hair was a mess due to sleeping on the ground. My reflection matched the image I felt: empty. 

I walked to his door. My heart beat faster with every single step. My legs carried me only by force rather than by acknowledgement. Soon enough, I was at the door. Gold numbers said 275. 

I took a deep breath before finally knocking on the door. There was no answer for a long time. I knocked once more. This time my knocks were desperate and wanting. If Hisoka had lied, I would personally beat him even if I died in the process. 

A few more moments went by before the door’s chain clanged off the runner, and the door opened. However, it wasn’t Illumi. It was a creepy man with a sunken face. Needles protruded from his face like a monster. Unlike Illumi’s naturally long hair, his hair sat up in a purple mohawk. My heart dropped in disappointment. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” I said. “I was told this was a friend’s room.” My legs started to take me back to the elevator in embarrassment. 

The man’s head turned with a few violent clicks as if he was made of metal. “Wait,” said the metallic voice. The arm pulled out a few pins in his face as if a terrifying gesture for attack. I braced my body with the use of Nen as I knew that he could throw them at me anytime. 

Instead, the man’s face transformed. The pins were keeping his appearance different. Black hair shot out from the top of his head and cascaded down to his knees. The smiling face was replaced with the blank looked expression that I knew so well. 

“I-Illumi?” I stuttered. “How? What?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Illumi walked out of the room while dropping the needles. They scattered the ground like dust. Illumi reached out and pulled me close to him. A desperate feeling of warmth washed over me. He held me tightly in his arms. 

I held back hopelessly wanting the basic affections of a hug. A sob wracked my body as every emotion came out at once. During all our time together, he’d never want to hold me. We always had sides that couldn’t be crossed. The only sense of emotional vulnerability was when we had sex. This was different. This was more intimate than any of our times. 

I didn’t know how long we stayed there in each other’s arms. Illumi was the first to pull away and only to drag me into his room. Instead of embracing once again, we stood at an awkward distance; waiting for someone to make the first move. “Illumi,” I whispered. Our silence was broken by that one word. 

“I was afraid you’d never come back,” Illumi said. His voice still held the same montonedness; however, it was different. There was a break to his tone. His voice sounded more human and not like a creation of his father. 

“I was afraid you left,” I said. 

“No. I won’t. Not again. I can’t lose you again.” His words were enough to bring the same tears to my eyes. Illumi was actually using emotions. It was a twisty fantasy that I held ever since I was kidnapped so long ago. Words couldn’t express the hurt, pain, longing that held me up so many nights. I, after long last, could kiss him. Which I did gladly.

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[jay-and-dean]

Rescue You  Chapter 3 : November, 3.

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Injuries, swearing, a hint of fluff ?

Words : 3001 (I knooow ! I said not more than 3k but you’ll forgive me one word.)

***Rescue You Masterlist***

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

___________________________

November 3, 10 am.

             After feeding Mam Griffin's animals, her chicken, rabbits and goats, I'm done with this morning tasks. Walking fast, I join home, with a little smile on my face that won't go away lately.

           Dean is getting a little better. He still can't move, and suffers a lot, but eating and talking are now easier. He won't die. I know he's still very wary, but my visits are more welcome, I feel like lately I tame him a little, and honestly, he's the most exciting thing that ever happened to me.

           Entering my house I hum a joyful Hello, and don't even take my coat off. I have to hurry because he must be hungry, now that he's eating, I know I'm not giving him enough, but I have to discreetly steal food and I can't risk buying a lot of stuff from the store, because everyone knows me, and everybody notices everything in this town.

           When I enter the living room, I freeze. Diana is here, taking a tea with my mom and my sister.

           Diana is my sister's godmother, every witch has one, a more powerful witch, in charge of magic education as much as the mother. Every witch, but me. I hate Diana, her red lipstick and her exaggerated perm. She's cruel and vain, always laying into me for being useless, comparing me to my sister, saying she's not only a real talented witch but also way prettier.

"Look who's finally home" she says with her conceited tone. "And in a good mood for once."

When she laughs, my sister imitates her, as usual ; my mom just looks at me.

"Hello" I repeat, with a lot less joy in my voice.

           I walk pass them and go straight to the fridge to get a little food for the hunter.

"What are you doing ?" Diana asks.

"Making a sandwich for lunch, I have work to do, I won't be back before dawn" I mumble.

"No" she says and my blood runs cold. "I want you to be there for lunch, you'll cook."

"What ?" I look at my mom but she doesn't react. "I-I can't. I have important things to do !"

"Important..." my sister mocks me and I feel anger burning my ears.

"I don't care what you have to do, you'll be useful for once" Diana laughs. "Oh and I want you to iron your sister's clothes, at least one of you has to look like a real lady."

I clench my fists like I have done many times, watching at her fake lashes flutter. Except this time, Dean comes in my head, the idea of him starving makes me sick, and I can't stand them taking this from me, controlling me again.

"I'M NOT YOUR SLAVE !" I yell before I can hold it back.

It's like the time had stopped. My mom stares at me with a shocked and scared look, my sister looks like I had slapped her, and Diana...

           Her eyes become black, literally, and her face turns pale. She gets up in silence and walks toward me. I'm shaking.

"Oh Y/n is having another little crisis" she says low. "Like when they took that stupid boy from you ? Or your Daddy ?" a evil smile appears on her face.

"Diana..." my mom says in a hidden pleading tone.

But before she can finish her sentence, my face hits the wall in a violent sound, sending a sharp pain in my skull. She's standing there, her hand raised toward me, her pupils blown. I can't move and my throat and half face start to burn, like an instant sunburn. I grunt and whine.

"If you won't do all I say, rebel, show me I'm not stronger than you" the horrible woman snaps.

"Diana !" my mom orders this time and I fall on the ground.

I jump on my feet and shake my head, looking at my sister that seems almost sorry behind her proud resting bitch face. I grab my fallen bag and run to the door.

"Stay here !"

"Let her go now" I hear my mom state before I storm out.

             I wipe away a tear but the contact of my hand on my face is painful. I walk fast, burning with rage and shame, trying to avoid every people's look, not wanting them to make it worse, because that's the only thing they would do.

           I suddenly stop. I have nothing to eat. I have nothing for the hunter and he needs strength. A wave of sadness hits me again but I start to think hard. I'll just steal, they won't be too suspicious if I just buy a coffee and a donut... and they know me, they won't suspect I have anything else in my coat.

 November 3, 11:45am.

              I push the door and smile. Finally ! He was sleeping but opens his eyes in fear at the first noise I make. He always wakes up in fear, and I noticed most of his sleep is filled with nightmares, Hell, monsters, griefs… I guess he has some horrible visions in there…

"It's me" I say, seeing how terrified he still looks again. "I'm sorry, I'm late, but... tada !" I smile showing him the food I bought. "You must be starving, how is the fever ? Can you still move your toes ?..."

"Y/n" he cuts me.

I turn toward him and see him frown. Looking down I put the cans on the table.

"What happened ?"

I try to ignore his question but he tries to move and groans in pain so I get closer.

"Careful" I warn and he grabs my hand with the speed of a snake. "Wh... I didn't tie you again yesterday ?"

"No" he grunts and pulls at my wrist to make me come closer.

I'm not afraid. I should be, but the only thing I feel right now is shame and that stabbing anger I have kept hidden all my life. Before I can control it, a tiny tear runs on my face.

"Look at me" he orders like no one ever did before, with kindness, without an ounce of threat.

I lift my eyes to find his.

           Now his face is not swollen anymore, I can see how beautiful his eyes are, how bright and smart, how perfectly his eyebrows highlight them, how well defined the lines of his face are under the beard growing from days to days...

"Who did that to you ?" he cuts my thoughts. "Are you... burned ?"

"I disobeyed someone important, it's nothing..."

"It's not nothing" he grunts. "I'll ki..." he stops.

Kill them ? Yes, I know he would, and he knows I don't want to hear that. So for an instant the tension between us is back, I look at him with distrust, and the killing fire in his hunter eyes are back. He lets go of my wrist and I take a step back. But my mind finally sees through the fear I've been taught, and realize somehow he wants to defend me.

"Are you hungry ?" I ask, knowing the answer.

He nods and I take the hotdogs from my pocket, making him frown. I shrug then put it in a pan with the beans that are already on the table, four hotdogs ? I turn to look at his tall frame and decide it will be okay.

"I bought a donut and a coffee" I say trying to make the hotplate work. "You like coffee ? It will be cold but I can heat it in here..."

"Y/n..." he calls weakly and I turn. "Did you eat ?"

"Yes, I had cereals for breakfast, don't worry about me" I smile kindly.

           When the food is ready, I come close to him and help him sit like yesterday. In a held back groan he straightens up, grabbing my shoulder for balance. I put the pillow behind him to make him lean on the wall.

"Here you go" I give him the bowl and a fork.

He looks at me, there is something on his face, something I never saw yet, like a simple vulnerable gratitude that is soft and shy.

"Why save me ?" he asks searching my eyes.

"Huh... I... I'm not a murderer I guess, I couldn't... kill you" I look up and smile gently.

I have no idea what to add.

           While he eats, I take a look at his leg, nothing worrying, but it will take months before he can walk again. His arms are still very weak, and sometimes he takes a break from lifting them to his mouth in a sigh. When I look up at him, he’s staring at me.

“I reek” he states. “I would give all my money for a shower, a toothbrush and a razor” he half smiles like he was trying with jokes to light the shame he’s feeling.

I can’t explain why I understand what he doesn’t say somehow, it’s just easy. He’s a warrior, covered in scars and good at hiding pain ; I guess he’s not good at being weak and life didn’t give him much more than the comfort of being clean and dignified…

“The shower will have to wait, but I brought a toothbrush and socks” I smile, checking the cut on his hand.

“Really ?” he raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I thought of all that the other day, the things you would need… Razor, okay… If there is anything else, just tell me.”

A silence. He tries to take another bite but the exhaustion is back on his face. I know he’s still hungry, but he just can’t move more for now.

           With caution, I come closer, and sit next to him, my hip touching his side. I take the bowl from his hand and look in it, he barely ate. His head rest against the wall, slightly back and he closes his eyes.

“Let me help” I whisper.

When the fork first appear in front of him, his jaw clenches, he looks between it and me with his mouth closed.

“It’s okay” I state low with my most amiable smile.

He opens his mouth and chew slow, staring at me with an expression I can’t read for once. Even when I avoid looking at his face, I feel his eyes right on me. So, as usual, I decide I should just talk to take his mind off of the food I help him eat.

           At first I ask him if he watched TV and what was on. He answers with few words, talking about a Scooby doo episode he knows by heart but saying he keeps falling asleep. What kind of fierce killer knows Cartoons by heart ? So I talk about it, telling him how I used to watch it with my dad in my pajamas, he used to tell me things could be awesome even without powers, and made fun of how naive they were… Dean listens to me, struggling with just chewing but apparently forgetting the pain in his chest a little when I make him focus on silly things.

“He looks great” he finally talks. “Your dad.”

I know I can’t hide that sadness behind my smile this time, and he frowns.

“Is he dead ?” he asks, sorry.

“Worse. Hey look !” I smile wide. “You ate everything. Good… Now do you want that donut ?”

 November 3, 5pm.

             He’s sleeping. After I washed him a little, gave him something to brush his teeth and changed the bandages, he passed out. The injuries make him sleep, but the pills I give him too, it’s often the issue with powerful painkillers. But I couldn’t resolve to go home. I’m afraid and I’m so angry my stomach hurts. If I could, I would just spend the night here, with the only person that never hurt me.

           I’m sitting on a chair against the little bed, the TV is on. The first four times he had a nightmare, I touched his chest to calm him, he was talking about a guy named Alastair and another named Michael. But now I just let my hand there, flat on his chest on a part of his body where no wounds make him suffer.

           I stopped watching TV after a while. And now I’m just staring at him, trying to understand who he is, like I could read it on his face. I know I should stop staring.

How old is he ? What kind of kid was he ? Does he like music ? Does he have a girlfriend ? How did he became a hunter ?... Are those freckles on his lips ?

           My phone rings, it’s my mom. If I don’t answer, she will look for me, and she could come here. I get up to take a few step away from the bed, turning my back on it.

“Yes, mother” I answer coldly.

“Y/n… I know you’re mad, but honestly I am too” she says on the phone.

“Yeah, you’re mad, not at Diana, I presume…”

“No ! At you” she starts.

“How surprising…”

“Why did you answer her like that ? Are you crazy ? Do you want me to look like a bad member of the community again ?”

“Come on mom, she used the burning spell on me ! The one the Coven uses to kill witches, kill mom !” I try not to raise my voice too much.

“I know, that was excessive…”

“But not throwing me through the room to hit my face on a wall…” I grunt.

“No, Y/n, you deserved that ! I know you’re mad but I have to show them I can control you” her tone is suddenly cold, like that time she burned all my dad’s presents and pictures. “Your room is empty, only a bed and a lamp, I gave your laptop and all your stuffs to your sister.”

My eyes fill with tears, I don’t have much, but reading and watching movies was my last escape from all this shit.

“You know I’m not a child anymore mom ?” I grunt between my teeth.

“Yes, Y/n, but you live in my house.”

“I only live here because the Coven forbid to hired me for anything else than handywoman shitty jobs” I state coldly.

“I guess you’re upset and won’t come home for diner” she just states.

“I won’t come back tonight” I say, my voice breaking.

“Maybe that’s better, that will let you time to think about your behavior. Just don’t freeze to death, they say it will sno…” I hung up before she can finish.

           I take a deep shaking breath and hold back tears. Still turning my back on the bed, I try to make that smile appear again on my face, but I feel like breaking things right now. After a few deep breaths, I finally manage to control my face. I turn around.

           Dean is awake, his worried eyes on me. Just seeing him makes my armor crack and I let out an involuntary a unique sob, putting my hand on my mouth to silent myself. His hand comes out of the covers, like he wanted to reach me.

“Y/n… he just says.

Wiping my tears I smile again, and it is a sincere smile :

“The good news is, I’m staying tonight” I shrug weakly, coming closer.

I sit back on the chair and, out of reflex, put my hand back on his chest, I realize it only when he covers it with his. I look at his hand, and the urge to cry comes back, but I fight it.

           I just realized I never felt that safe ; with the hand of my wounded enemy on mine, just protected by the kindest gesture I ever known.

“What did you hear ?” I ask shyly, looking down.

“Everything.”

 November 3, 11pm.

             I don’t want to take my hand back, but I really need to wrap my arms around myself. It’s now freezing outside and crystals are forming on the small window, outside, and inside. I check on Dean but he seems warm, the thick cover I gave him is doing its job.

           I put my feet on the chair and cover them with my oversized hoodie, wrapping my arms around it.

“You’re freezing” Dean says before he opens his eyes.

“I’m okay” I state, failing not to shake.

“You’re freezing and spending the night on a wooden chair…” he insists. “Come here.”

He pushes the cover to show me the very little place on the mattress left. I shake my head but the warmth coming from it is begging me to go, or I think I will have hypothermia.

“There is not a lot of space, Dean, and I could hurt your ribs” I murmur but he shakes his head.

“If you freeze in the night, I’m dead, right ?” he half smiles, making me smile entirely in return.

           Hesitantly, I put a knee on the mattress and he lifts his shoulder slowly, allowing me to awkwardly lay on my side, completely against him, my head on his good shoulder. I have just enough space to put my legs, side and head, but moving just a little would make me fall of the bed. His arms comes in my back, like he wanted to hold me but he can’t yet.

           I have no choice but to snuggle against him, like we were cuddling, avoiding his wounds, and paradoxically avoiding to touch him with my hands, when my entire body is nestled against his. The warmth seems burning, and it’s heavenly. I look up and watch his face, he’s different from here. His smell is too…

“I didn’t tie you…” I say, almost joking.

“Okay, I’ll try not to kill you…” he grunts with a little tap of his hand on my back, already drifting away again.

_______________________________

Forever Tags : @parinarain @animegirlgeeky @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @animegirlgeeky @paradoxical–intentions  @thefaithfulwriter@parinarain@vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496@daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @mogaruke @masterof-agony @mogaruke @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @hawaiianohana31 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @im-a-shrub

Rescue You tags : @thatgirl1456 @acklesterritory @divadinag @blackrockshooter78 @stilltoomuchafangirl 

Tags are open

[kinkykawaiian]

She is based off of Biblical Lilith. She was inspired by other interpretations of Lilith//

Working on a detailed reference sheet.

Name: Lilith

Alias: Death Dealer, ,Mistress of Betrayal, The Red Queen

Occupation: Weapon's dealer, Black Hat’s Emissary, Leader of the Red Macabre Corporation, Also ringleader of an underground circus for villains where she torments her victims((those who betrayed her or some man that committed a crime against a woman))

Age: VERY VERY VERY OLD

Race: Succubus

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual but leans towards men more

Biography:

As far as the legend goes; she fled the garden of Eden when she refused to submit to Adam.  God had sent three angels to retrieve her but they never found her. She was lost, naked and alone; searching for a place to call home and where she could be her own woman. That is when the devil manifested before her and offered her a place in the depths of hell. Promising her that she will be free to do as she pleases with no man ruling over her. And that is where she made her home and ruled over a legion. Years turned to centuries, centuries turned to millennias and millenias turned to eons that she wasted in that inferno.She evolved into the monster she is today and earned the title The deceiver of men, bows to no one and queen of the night.(The year 1860, Washington) She was summoned on earth by a mortal looking to get his rocks off with the infamous succubus and it backfired on him when she drained his life energy for sustenance; leaving nothing but a hollowed out corpse. Now, free to roam Earth, she disguised herself as a normal woman; killing several men in her wake. She was nomadic; never staying in one place and always traveling state to state; town to town and eventually she happened upon a small town in Mexico. She saw a discrete ad around the town for a masquerade for the insidious. She attended the ball expecting to find her new victim. She wore a crimson red and black Victorian dress; it's silk straps draping off her shoulder; along with black gloves and a crow mask, her hair tied back in a bun adorned with roses and black feathers. During the festivities; she met the infamous Black Hat. His face was concealed by a mask. He approached her and asked for a dance while complementing the color of her attire. The first thing she noticed was his top hat and assumed he had a high place in society; and since she has an affinity for men in power (because she wants to dominate that power) she accepted his offer. Hours passed as they spent the night dancing away; eventually the events came to an end. As they were leaving the building; Black Hat  whistled to summon his steed and to Lilith's surprise it was an undead horse with it's head engulfed in teal flames. He took her by the hand and they road together through the woods in the dead of night.Upon arriving at a lake where they dismounted; he asked her who the girl behind the mask was. She removed her mask to reveal her face; her eyes shifting to their demonic form as she told him who she was and she asked the same from him and he revealed who he was(At this time he was El Charro Negro)). The two schmoozed for several hours; talking about their conquers, victims and who they walked over to get to where they are. She was also admitted that she was going to make a meal out of him; assuming that he was a mortal when they first met.  He laughed in response and told her that he was about to do the same until he saw her eyes change. He was curious if she had any place to go. She told how she usually targets men and spends the night at their place before moving on to their next victim. He offered to bring her home and have her work for him in return, being impressed by the temptress of deception. She was smitten by the Eldritch demon and she took his offer. Once at his estate; she was given her own room and a set of rules to follow; to which she had a difficult time following because she'd be damned if she let a man rule over her. This caused them to butt heads but she still served him well with sacrifices and assassinating her targets effectively. Although she came close to almost dying once while trying to seduce and kill a monster hunter who was on Black Hat's trail. He had holy weapons that subdued her which he tortured her and sawed her wings off; her ear got torn and her horn chipped; he was about to slice her throat with a blessed blade but was interrupted by the leering shadow of a monstrous  Black Hat who engulfed the room in darkness. Lilith had loss consciousness from the blood loss at this point and she came to back in her bed with her boss tending to her wounds. He looked annoyed and chewed her out for failing to do the job; of course this lead to an argument between the two but she receded back to laying on her side in pain; allowing Black Hat to continue bandaging her wounds. He gently stroked her hair before exiting the room calling her a"Beautiful imbecile" and told her "Not to let it happen again because the next time I just might let you die"   Black Hat enjoyed her wild and wicked nature; trying to contain it would be foolish but he thrived on the conflict that came from him attempting. When he presented her a contract to finalize her employment; she question it's context. Black Hat was annoyed by this and promised her she would get anything she wished from the organization if she signed the doted line. Once she signed; he gave her anything she had asked for. She asked to start her own circus; so he gave her an underground circus to run where she would torture her victims for the insidious masses to see; along with two tigers trained to maim and eat those victims. She saved the money she earned(While also giving Black Hat his cut) she eventually branched off to start her own organized crime empire called The Red Macabre Corporation in the year of 1920. Black Hat was happy to see her flourish into a villain of her own but at the same time seething in anger because he secretly enjoyed her company(And her cooking; she would cook fresh stillborn babies for him). This made him grow even more bitter and even more strict with his future employees. Nonetheless, she went off; leaving the estate to run her own business. Now in present day; She still does business with Black Hat and they still have some kind of strong tension going on between them and it is unknown if it's hatred or sexual. But when no one else is looking; they will waltz privately in his office; reminiscing about the night they met all those years ago. They have a very antagonizing romance that comes off as contempt at first glance; so you'd have to read between the lines.

LIKES:

-Drinking in general

-The suffering of men who thought they were superior to women

-Musicals

-Old detective shows

-Singing and dancing

-She likes spicy things(perfume,foods,gum,sex)

-Guns; her favorite being her golden Berretta 92; a semi automatic pistol

-Tigers

-being the center of attention

-wine

-cherries

-cheese cake

-electro swing, jazz,heavy metal and waltz

-Dementia's illusive nature in small doses

-the rare sweet moments between her and Black Hat that happen in private

-roses

-living in the lap of luxury

-the color red

-Carnage

-Bathing in virgin blood

-the taste of human flesh

-When Black Hat sings "Vaillainous thing" to her ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

))

-Belly dancing(mostly to Heavy metal),waltzing or tango.

DISLIKES:

-Other people's children

-Being referred to as the Night hag

-Being asked what her age is

-Being called a sinner

-Being annoyed

-anything cold

-Glitter

-Being disrespected

-Most men

-Outdated views

-pranks

-when Black Hat melts puppies

-Being told what to wear

FUN FACTS:

-Lilith can speak several different languages; including English,Spanish and pig Latin.

-She has been summoned to the surface world before in the past a few times; Once by Mary 1 of England(in the year 1552) and helped her rein the Kingdom with an iron fist. She also taught her to bathe in virgin blood to maintain her youth. But as all deals go; she collected her dept when "Bloody Mary" met her demise. She has her soul now trapped behind mirrors; only to be summoned to scare stupid children when they repeat her name three times in a dark bathroom.

-

-Lilith is an excellent cook(She mostly cooks human flesh with herbs and spices)

-Lilith covers her chipped horn with a band at all times

-Black Hat has indulged in her sinful nature a few times and it usually leaves them both bitten up,bruised and bleeding. And it is their dirty little secret to keep.

-Lilith pursued Black Hat out of her own free will

-If Black Hat were to ever disappear Lilith would take his spot and rule ruthlessly and mercilessly and do away with the mortals he hired and summon a legion to take their place.

-Lilith views Black Hat as an equal; despite him viewing her beneath him. However, he does view her as the closest thing to his equal.

-Lilith left his residence before he started to brand his employees and never allowed herself to be marked by him if it wasn't by his teeth or claws.

-Black Hat and Lilith have private meetings every so often where he complains about his employees or talks about his new devices he wants to sell or they drink and reminisce about their past  

-Lilith will never say it out loud but she loves Black Hat; despite all their escapades together.

-When she was living with Black Hat he would request for her to sing him to sleep when he was restless (( She would usually sing "Belong to me"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

))

---------------------------------------------

Personality: She is charismatic, bold and is never afraid to refrain from sharing her thoughts.  She is the embodiment of the sin lust so she is very lewd in nature. She is cruel to those outside of her inner circle and could care less about them. She is careful with who she deals with given her past experience with shady characters. She also comes across as bit of a narcissist and hogs the spotlight. She is manipulative and deceiving; leading her victims to fall into her trap. She is ruthless when dealing with victims. She also makes a lot of suggestive jokes.

Fighting Style: she is very flexible, quick and agile so she will use that to her advantage. She fights like an animal,using her horns to ram into her enemy, her clawed nails, fanged teeth and tail. Also may use her hooves to step on her enemies. Or she'll just simply unload led into you.

Powers: intense charisma and seductive power to match her good looks she uses to her advantage to manipulate unsuspecting victims,can disguise herself to look human, Manipulates dreams, Can see in the dark, Pyrotechnic, is able to make items manifest themselves in a snap of a finger, she can also walk up right walls and ceilings. She can teleport in a close proximity(She cannot teleport through dimensions however), sucking her victim's life dry to leave behind a hollowed corpse, Immortality. She also can use a spell to charm her victims(Only works with mortals) to get what she wants. Despite having these supernatural powers she is not as strong as Black Hat. She doesn't even come close to what he is capable of.

Quote: "Don't mistaken my respect for fear or you will loose it”-Lilith to BH

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voice Claim: Cat Pierce ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fv8QI0C4oCw

))

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Theme songs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AAOx_6jfek

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RViFRTgC2y4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9irdrSZ9Ys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afZR_1BY0CA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TFUUS_Yqew

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9sENKMK8Tk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjOtKC_GZ9o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdFaadxJl4g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4cKIxhcTT8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yP9olT_TdM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QL60uWjiXrw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3FLpc-5yvM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eJbxI-jZbA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkdXdVxTdNA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCXsRoyFRQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeaC0gPRJpM

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Her and Black Hat's playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bql8WO0GvqI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGti3Bzlxhw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGbe-lEDCc4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4MZTU1-_bw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3ObHjm1fAE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZ79Rpv3kNk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHOE50gGP30

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teuGzBoN8hE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8xTZIOAPhs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AeFLR9hKQ6Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISgaQcScFQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Fp4yRDEVyM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5rtxcogEsU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36714VSOchI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMx6FA8gmgU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRw-8tDiPQc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccY25Cb3im0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD-7zn3WCq8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x83P5LjpWpA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6feSJsCxIw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts--MxmAFkQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ia--jqrELbE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WsZ2fUXbZg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzjUs5yR68o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ow1QqW0jzTo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-s4uLaaMBc

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roleplay Examples:

Lilith walked into the ballroom and was instantly awestruck. The room was nearly one thousand feet long by five hundred feet wide, with the ceiling stretching up another hundred feet above her head. It made her feel smaller than an ant. The walls were a shimmering white and gold. Dozens of glittering crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the ceiling. Candles lit on each pillar; which illuminated the ballroom’s occupants. A group of five women in front of her all had flowing, elegant ball gowns that were frilly but pale. She could hear their low chatter as they talked among themselves and laughed, seemingly completely at ease in this festive atmosphere. Lilith's crimson and black gown made her stick out like a swore thumb. She wondered through the masked crowed aimlessly as she discreetly scouted for her next victim.

Lilith grinned widely as the stranger in black accepted her offer. She rested her free hand on his shoulder before they began to glide through the ballroom floor together; the sounds of violins filled the air. They stood out in their dark attire as they waltzed through a sea of pale pastel gowns and suits. The demoness in disguise had hunger written in her eyes. One could easily mistaken that look for lust but she was actually fantasizing how she would devour this man when given the opportunity"You are an excellent dancer"She complemented her partner.

-----------------------------

This interpretation of Lilith and art belong to me

Villainous belongs to Alan Ituriel

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It’s 2020 and my anxiety level is so high, I grind my teeth while I’m asleep and awake!  But let’s ignore all that and instead focus on critically analyzing America’s premiere soap opera for monster hunting! It’s Supernatural! 

As you may have already guessed, I watch a lot of TV. And in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020, when I’m encouraged to stay home and indulge in my favorite pastime for the health of the nation, I watch a hell of a lot of TV. When you watch that much TV, you start to notice the rhythm and the flow of how seasons of television progress. You probably notice it too, even if you don’t think about it as much as I do. 

Like, you know that episode that happens right near the end of the season where all the characters are happy? They’ve overcome a whole bunch of obstacles and they’re finally winning and they can see that light at the end of the long tunnel? You know the one I’m talking about. That’s the moment that you, as an audience member, know things are about to go downhill very quickly

Like when Poldark smiles over something and you’re just like, ah yes, I’ll prepare for the funeral. 

Season 1 of Supernatural is like a case study of the rhythm that makes a network show work. There’s this wave effect throughout the season, building the tension up for a few episodes and then sliding through the next handful. Look at the first five episodes: they’re all about holding our breath, we’re gasping at every new turn - death and ghosts and monsters and Family Drama and Bloody Mary and PREMONITIONS AND THEN we let it out over the next three. 

Aaaaaaand exhale!

This first season especially, but I’d argue the first three definitely, you can see this pattern repeated over and over again - building the tension, ramping the horror, bringing it to a major Mythos or Series Arc Moment and then releasing all that tension with a cool-down filler/self-contained episode. 

And that’s where I am in the show now. We just had a major series arc episode with “Shadow” - John finally reunites with his sons, the villain is revealed (Meg and also the demon that killed their mom), and the endgame (for this season at least) is in sight. BUT! We’re a network show with 22 episodes to fill, and we can’t just head straight into the Finale Fight now, we’re only on episode 17! I mentioned in my last post that getting the team together again for all of 6 minutes and 44 seconds (yes, I did go back and count) felt like a slap in the face. I assumed it would have something to do with Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s shooting schedule, but looking at it again, it probably had more to do with the fact that it was too soon to bring John Winchester back as a major player.

So our next episode, our breather episode after all this High Drama, should feel a little disappointing to anyone caught up in the arc of the season. But. BUT. But. The next episode is “Hell House."

Yes, this is a filler, but this is filler done RIGHT. I mean maybe it’s just cuz it’s 2020 and I’m very tired and sad and scared all the time, but I was SO HAPPY to see Ed and Harry again, guys you don’t even know. Guys, the GHOSTFACERS ARE HERE!

And man, I am SO glad that this is a recurring side team that shows up throughout the series. Pease no one tell me that they die in a later season, I’ll find out eventually, I just can’t handle it now. 

They are the anti-Sam and Dean. They have no idea what they’re getting into, they have no idea how to hunt anything, but they’re here to get famous and that’s just...it’s beautiful guys. Just beautiful. 

Plus, you have this soft b-story line where Sam and Dean get to be Real Brothers for a hot second and prank the shit out of each other the whole episode. It’s like even Sam and Dean are saying, yeah, we need a break from all the feelings, let’s put itching powder in each other’s boxer briefs. I want to say that I was really annoyed the first time I watched this and did not care for these shenanigans, but this time around, it was a REAL JOY. 

I’m also not mad about this.

And this breather feeling sort of carries over into the next few episodes. Sort of.  

“Something Wicked” is another feelings-heavy episode. Backstory! Child-eating Monster! Tiny!Dean! I think Dean maybe cries again? Or just does that thing where he stares into the middle distance, all pain and torment and chiseled jaw line and I’m doing it again, I’msorrynotsorry. 

You know. THIS face.

All of these things lead to an episode that has a lot of character development and strengthens the bond between Sam and Dean. Sam literally validates Dean’s whole existence by apologizing for fighting him on this job and then saying “I know I’ve given you a lotta crap for following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it.” It’s a lot. It’s a big moment from Sam, who hasn’t really reconciled with John yet and who’s still hoping for a future that isn’t all about killing every evil sonuvabitch they can find. It’s a big moment for Dean, too, since his main motivation is protecting his family and (from his limited point of view) that family keeps trying to leave him. And while we do get some insight into the f-ed up childhood that was forced upon our eponymous heroes, there’s nothing really driving the season’s plot forward in this episode. 

Same goes for “Provenance”. This episode is another good horror episode. I mean, even if that painting wasn’t possessed by a murder orphan, it is deeply haunted and I hope props burned it when the production wrapped. And what is it about ghost children particularly that’s upsetting? Is it the size? Is it the fact that their eyes are too big for their heads at that age? I mean, it probably has something to do with perverted innocence and goodness blah blah blah, but also their hands are tiny and so all the knives look bigger.

Same, Sam.

Aside from that, Sam gets another nice growth moment where he gets to imagine a world after Jessica. He’s been so fixated on finding Jessica’s killer - I’d argue more so than his mother’s killer albeit they are the same entity. That’s not a judgement against him, mind. He knew and loved Jessica, he did not know his mother, so I’m not mad about that character decision. But the show is really wrapping up the Jessica plot line because that won’t have legs in a season 2. And that’s harsh, so I’ll temper it with the fact that Sam, as a human being, is getting to the final stages of processing his grief and starting to move on with his life. Plus, I think that Dean wingmanning his brother is adorable and I love it. Good Brothering, Show! 

But nothing in this episode has anything to do with the killer Sam’s been fixating on, so there’s no progression for the season’s main arc. 

Last but certainly not least on this disc of my season 1 box set is “Dead Man’s Blood.” My notes on this episode include the key phrases “I’m pretty sure this episode is...dumb?”, “ I...do not care for vampires,” and then like, two lines later, “Nope. Still don’t care for these vampires.” They’re just making up some random-ass lore and their fashion sense is SO 2006 and I just...I just hate them. 

I hate them SO MUCH.

BUT! That’s not the point of this episode. The point of this episode is to point us towards the season finale. FIRST, we start to see a little bit more of the world that the Winchesters inhabit. We actually meet another hunter, Daniel Elkins. He dies immediately, but that’s a cold open for ya. And when Sam and Dean go to investigate Elkin’s death, John comes back, this time for good (haha, lol). We get a real taste of the family dynamics in this episode - John and Sam fight and come together and fight and come together and Dean’s standing there kinda like, SPONGEBOB! 

You know, Plankton! Krabs! Dean Winchester! Right? Anybody?

All sides have good arguments, and I appreciate that none of the conflict between the the three of them feels forced, or at least, it doesn’t feel forced this watch. The fights all come from deep character places that have been established through the whole season. They’re natural progressions of what we’ve come to expect of these characters. 

And finally, most importantly, John knows how to defeat the demon that killed their mother. Enter Deus Ex Colt Revolver. 

Colt Revolver Ex Machina?

CAN I just take a break for a second to say that BOTH Elkin AND John were ready to WASTE PRECIOUS COLT BULLETS on VAMPIRES, who can be killed IN OTHER WAYS?? Listen, you make a magic gun that only works with these  like, 5 BULLETS, and then you just THROW AWAY A BUNCH OF SHOTS, GUYS??? ALSO, what the HELL does Haley’s Comet and The Alamo have to do with this STUPID GUN??? I JUST- you know what, we don’t have time for all that. 

Attaining the Colt is the brick they drop on the gas pedal to drive us into the season finale of season 1. 

Wasting a some PRECIOUS F*CKIN’ BULLETS, GUYS.

When you look at the season’s pacing at the outset, it seems like it shouldn’t work. I was that person who felt disappointed in each episode where it became clear we were definitely on a side quest, not the main quest.  Watching it now, though, I think that pacing is important. Yeah, the Monster-of-the-Week episodes are a little hit and miss, but sometimes you have to think of a TV season like a marathon and not a sprint. There will be times when you pick up the pace, yes, but it’s a long race and you’re gonna need some periods of recovery if you’re gonna make it to the finish line. And frankly, a lot of those side quest episodes ended up being my favorite episodes of the entire series. 

NOW. I doubt you would see this sort of structuring in a show today, specifically in shows that don’t get a 22 - 24 episode order. You MAY get, MAY, a Ghostfacers-type episode thrown in after a major emotional climax for that breather effect. MAY. But if Supernatural was made today - probably for an online streaming site, probably with only 10 - 13 season order - I don’t think you’d see episodes like “Something Wicked” or “Provenance” or “Faith”. The nice thing about short seasons is that you can keep the storytelling focused and tight, but I also think that can be a weakness as much as it is a strength. What do those three episodes all have in common? They’re strong on character and relationship development. We, the audience, get a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Winchesters and how they work and grow as a unit in these episodes. So if we’ve watched this far, through bugs and ghost trucks, through all their little victories and major setbacks, we’re well and truly invested in how the season is going to end. 

I’m not saying you can’t have big character moments in a shorter season. And I’m not saying that a show more focused on plot, on the What Happens rather than the Who It Happens To, is a bad thing. But watching this season over again in comparison to present day television seasons, it’s highlighted what Supernatural did right. On this side of the series, it’s easy to see why the show went on for another 14 years.

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Blood is Rare (and Sweet like Cherry Wine): 8/8

Short Ficlets in a Witcher!AU for Sterek Valentines week

Beginning: tumblr / Ao3

(also, this one has a readmore cuz it got a lot longer than the other installments. whoops. sort of.)

For valentine’s, a bit late, First Kiss

(also I had a prettier twilight-on-river shot initially, but i figure the misty element probs matches the witcher show tone better. I’ll throw the pretty one on the end.)

7- Destroy with a Sweet Kiss

The fight goes sideways.

Derek was not supposed to be there, was supposed to be safely away, but the kikimore they’d been tracking had clearly turned and decided to track them, and it had caught them. Derek got out of the way fast, hauling on Roscoe’s reins to keep her clear of the fight while Stiles engaged, and slapped her into a short run once he thought they were unlikely to attract the attention of the embattled pair.

Stiles was holding his own, but twilight was falling, and the monster clearly had better vision (and more limbs). Derek knew Stiles had a potion he normally took to improve his vision during the hunt, but he hadn’t had a chance and, though Derek had seen a hand go for that pouch several times, it looked like he might not get one. Not seeing a better option, and not able to stand there and watch the person he loved be dragged into death, one small gash at a time, Derek got a stupid idea.

He picked his way around to the opposite side of the fight from where Roscoe had run off, collecting moderate sized stones on his way. Once on the other side, and with his eyes on his escape route, a clear path and large tree, much taller than the kikimore, Derek began to lob his projectiles at the monster.

By the third rock, it worked, Derek saw it lose focus and begin looking for him, saw Stiles get a hand into his pocket in the gathering dark… and realized he needed to make a run for it.

He tried.

Even as fast as he could be when he really made the effort, Derek was not fast enough, and not experienced enough still, clearly, to know better.

The creature caught him in midair, just as he was leaping for the lowest branches of his chosen tree. Derek had one profound moment to recognize the impact and change of trajectory, to wonder why there was force but no pain, before he hit another tree, and knew no more.

The next thing Derek was aware of was wetness on his face, and pain in his ribs, back, his whole torso. He tried to draw breath and it caught and he coughed, white-hot agony coursed through him.

He opened his eyes. Stiles was staring at him.

“You- you’re alive? How…”

Derek forced himself to look, to acknowledge the fucking tree branch protruding from his miserably destroyed doublet, grimaced and tried to get his breathing under control enough to say something, anything.

“Get. It out.”

Stiles looked so sad.

“Derek. It’s, you’ll bleed to death. If I pull it… you’re going to… there’s no way…”

Derek shook his head, coughing and spitting blood once more.

“Won’t” he managed to grind out.

Stiles just shook his head mutely.

Derek reached out with one hand, limply grasped a shoulder piece on the Witcher’s armor.

“Please.”

Stiles looked so resigned, so regretful. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength. Opened them with determination.

“Are you sure? I mean there’s no… you’re not going to survive this either way, but… there’s maybe time…”

Derek shook his head, grabbed Stiles weakly with both hands, and tried to pull himself off the spike of wood.

Stiles made a noise almost like a sob, partially drowned out by Derek’s deep grunt of pain, slid his hand up Derek’s back, braced the other on the tree, and pulled.

With a sickening sucking sensation and sound, Derek came free, nearly passing out again in the immediate blood loss Stiles had known was coming, but Stiles, despite clearly believing it was futile, clearly believing he was witnessing his friend’s last moments, still did his best to apply pressure to the hole in Derek’s chest cavity. Derek clung to consciousness by his finger tips, focused on breathing.

Several minutes passed, and though the Witcher was still stooped with agony and grief, Derek cradled in his lap… Stiles’ look of desolation began to be edged out by confusion, and then, with the realization that the blood pool had stopped expanding, and Derek still wasn’t dead yet… maybe even a little hope?

After twenty minutes, twenty minutes of lying in Stiles’ lap, trying to figure a way out of the coming conversation and failing, Derek finally decided he was patched enough to talk without tearing something open.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles gaped.

“Am I? Am I okay? You ass. You utter… how are you alive??”

Derek offered a little smile.

“Destiny?”

“Shut the fuck up. You are so full of shit, you… seriously. How. What… what are you?”

And it was Derek’s turn to look away. All this time, and he still didn’t know how to say it, but it looked like his time was up.

“You, do you,” he paused, cleared his throat, and sucked it up. “When we first met, do you remember. The song?”

The witcher paused.

“Bisclarvet. The lai of Bisclarvet.”

Derek nodded, waiting for it to sink in, knowing he was probably healed enough to sit up, being completely unwilling to.

“You’re…” Derek could practically see the wheels turning. “You’re a werewolf.”

Derek forced himself to nod in a way that did not betray how badly he wished he could run. He turned his head at least, not wanting to see the moment his friend’s surprise turned to anger at the lies, hatred of what Derek was. Had always been.

He was surprised a moment later, when Stiles touched his face, gently, turned him back so there was no hiding.

“You can’t… I don’t know how you hid that from me all this time. I can usually…”

Derek smiled, a tiny bitter thing.

“I’m not just fastidious by nature.” It was mild, but the herbs he added to his personal oils and soaps had natural scent-suppressive properties. A decent enough feature in products meant to keep one smelling fresher and cleaner than one was, and as long as he didn’t do anything to enhanced that part of his scent, transform, or anything… “And I’ve a charm.”

Stiles frowned, touching his witcher pendant, “I would know…” his eyes went distant. “It’s on Filivandrel’s Lute, isn’t it?”

Derek nodded. He had figured, correctly it appeared, that the elf lord’s instrument was magical enough that Derek’s little notice-me-not charm would, indeed, be overlooked in the general swell of enchantment.

Stiles looked back at him, and Derek could quite clearly see the hurt in those normally guarded golden eyes. There was a song in that somewhere…

“Why… did you never… do you have that low opinion of me, that you would think I’d, I’d find out and could ever…”

Not really, but Derek couldn’t, it was a risk he could never… He sighed. Stiles had earned the whole story, many times over, and if he chose to depart Derek’s company after, then that was more than understandable.

Derek took a deep breath, and was distracted coughing again. Stiles, now fairly confident Derek was not about to die, propped Derek up against the faithful tree, whistled Roscoe back, and was offering Derek a water skin by the time he could breath again.

Fairly sure all his internal organs were intact, Derek drank greedily, realizing suddenly how desperate he was to replace all the fluid he’d lost.

Stiles sat in a sad silence until he’d drained the water completely, and then held out a compressed cake of nuts, fruit and honey, which Derek gratefully accepted.

Finally, Derek could put it off no longer.

He told him. He told him about falling out of trees as a child, about long golden afternoons on his family’s estate, rolling and frolicking, and being so happy and alive in their skins, he and all his siblings, safe in the knowledge that nothing could ever harm them, that no one would ever cross their mother.

He told him about the growing political tensions as he grew, and the thread of instability that crept into the pack when his uncle left, the fights he was not supposed to hear… and the woman in town to whom he went when it all became too much.

Derek forced himself to tell Stiles of his great mistake, how foolish he’d been, and what a price had been paid, by everyone but him, half the pack dead, their secrets aired to the world, their target hung neatly in the hunter halls for any newcomer to try to make his mark.

How, when he was old enough, he did what his remaining family could not bring themselves to ask him to do.

He left.

He’d always been drawn to music, had a good ear for it, liked the way performance and composition could let him forget sometimes, take him out of himself… he joined a bardic college, and didn’t go home.

He told stiles about his plan, his sorry little dream, his hope that, between the coin he sent home, and the sympathetic and nuanced portrayal of folk like himself he tried to spread, he could begin to pay back the damage he’d done, in his youth and arrogance.

His surprise to meet stiles, but the instant knowledge that this was it, this was how he made that difference, this was how he learned what could nt be found in books of men, and how he reached the far reaches of the known country.

Derek faltered a little, Stiles’ face betrayed nothing once again, and Derek decided enough damage he likely already been done. He took a swig from the new skin Stiles had passed him partway through the tale, and went for broke.

“And, I know that sounds like I only valued you for what you could do for me professionally, and it may have started out that way, but it hasn’t been like that for a long time. For a long time now, I’ve… And I know I’ve no right to ask for, for forgiveness or understanding, but I want you to know, that you are… you are everything. You have so much integrity, you’re kind and generous, and funny and brave, and, and beautiful, lords, and if I could ask one boon of the universe, it would be to be always by your side, in whatever capacity you would have me. I lo-”

And Stiles lunged forward, and kissed him.

It was not a gentle kiss, but Stiles was still clearly using every bit of his Witcher strength not to press upon any of Derek’s so recently knitted flesh, and Derek, as his brain finally caught up with his mouth (okay, he had a limited supply of blood to work with at the moment), decided his did not give a shit about guilt, or pain, or whatever, and he was going to take what was on offer, apparently. Goddamnit. He mustered his strength, and shoved back at Stiles, taking one moment to appreciate the look of surprise on the Witcher’s face as he fell on his ass, before following him down, claiming his mouth again, and laying them both out on the rocky ground.

—

Eventually the pain, and thirst was enough that they had to come up for air. Also Derek found he could only ignore the putrid mess of kikimore stuck to Stiles’ outfit for so long. Also, did he mention, really needed to be having a greater blood volume than he had if he wanted to be taking things much further. It took little persuasion, though a deal more coordination than Derek was prepared for, to get them both stripped and in a river (thank all gods it wasn’t winter).

Derek himself had drunk about half his weight (and made stiles go back for the rest of the honey cakes and jerky), by the time he deemed them both clean enough to not foul their fresh(ish) clothes and bedding, and began to make his way out of the water, when Stiles pulled him back. Derek would have been all for some swimming hanky-panky in other circumstances (his self-imposed celibacy/punishment on the circuit had not, in fact, diminished his libido, or increased his modesty a bit), but he really was still a little too light-headed to be sure of his ability to stay upright on the slick rocks for anything more than they’d already been up to… but the look on stiles face wasn’t lustful. There was a hunger there, Derek thought, but… oh.

Stiles was gently tracing the fresh pink skin on Derek’s torso.

“I had wondered,” the witcher began, swallowed, began again, “I had noticed that you had no scars to speak of. Your being genteel was not a surprise, though I had also wondered why, for as much as you play, your hands were still soft.” There was wonder in Stiles’ voice, as he traced the shape of Derek’s light musculature, traced the slight protrusion of collar bones, up his neck, finally across his face. Derek closed his eyes instinctively, as Stiles’ rough fingertips, only slightly softened in the water, glided across cheekbones and eyelids, thumbs joining a moment later to smooth the length of Derek’s brows. There was a long pause, and Derek let his eyes flutter open again, surprised, as ever, by the way the witcher practically glowed in moonlight.

“Show me?” Stiles whispered, and Derek knew what he meant. And for the first time in decades, it was easy, first to let the blue bleed into his eyes, and then to let the rest of the beta shift flow over him.

Stiles gasped a little, but didn’t pull away. His hands resumed the soft caress, and Derek had never felt so whole, complete, and seen, in his entire life.

--

fin

--

--

End notes:

Who knows, we could come back to this, I feel there’s still a lack of witcher/werewolf sex, which can’t help but be good (mutual scent kiink anyone? Also neither having to hold back, because they are well matched in physical strength/durability. But also also probs some real tender lovin’ at some point, probs at least once when stiles truly processes the idea that he might have found a partner whose lifespan could match his own holy shit he might not have to bury Derek). But also, I felt like Derek needed some sleep first, and didn’t want to start a new section. So that’s it for now!

Bits that didn’t make it in:

Stiles being grumpy over the idea of spoiled, genteel werewolves. Derek coming to their defense, explaining that Laura and Cora, his two surviving siblings, were actually much more, uh, physically inclined than he was, Laura training to be the next alpha, presumably, and Cora, a knight, in service to a bit of a warrior queen (lydia, absolutely).

Stiles insisting that derek needed:

1. Fighting clothes

2. To learn how to fight properly. Like, stiles was not intended to subject him to the worst of the hunts, but the showing derek had put up with the kikimore was pitiful, and even a werewolf probs couldn’t survive being beheaded or eaten, so. Self-defense at least.

Eventually, Stiles helps Derek decide to go home again. Cue teary reunions, forgiveness, and maybe Derek getting called out on having found his mate and not telling anyone. Including, oops, well, now the witcher knows. XD

[Masterlist]

[ivemetyouathousandways]

Pandora was an ass-crack of a shit hole but it had its charms, in some regards, but I wasn't here to admire the landscape. I was here to gather Intel and prepare a comeback for the Atlas corporation. They specialized in rebuilding wrecks into state of the art beauty of human tech and architecture.

More importantly, I was here because it got complicated on Promethea. Not that many were in the known of the subtly crucial details. In my contact's eyes, it was a simple question of sending a good agent to the next location to prepare the terrain. COV still infested the Borderlands, and as if those zealot bandits were not enough, Maliwan coveted the frigging galaxy due to some egomaniac trip the next in line thought was in the best for the company, after their CEO Katagawa Jr. had tragically passed away - a few bullets in the head, courtesy of a Vault Hunter.

So here I was, enjoying local fauna and flora. Can't say I enjoyed the local cuisine, living off skag meat and whatever I could conjure up when cleaning COV ghettos. I could have settled in a bigger location, like their previous Holy Broadcast Center but that would have been slacking on the job. I needed to be on the road, making notes, assessing weak and strong points of valleys, mountains, rocky formations, bug infestations - of which I had my fair share of cleanup!

I was atop of those treacherous false amalgamation of soft dirt circling formations, looking for cacti fruits, having emptied a few bullets on skag headshots - was worth having a few tongue whiplashes for a clear single bullet brain splattering moment and spare some ammunition. I could find spare here and there in previously left behind corporate souvenirs ammo buckets, or go back to Marcus' vending machine but if I wanted to cover max terrain superficy, I needed to ration the bullets and shoot wisely.

And as much as skags and bugs were on the easier side of aim and shoot, the raaks on the other hand, were a bloody nightmare and I found myself painfully running out of swear words in my infuriated misery to rid the Pandorian skies of them flying bastards! I was also slowly but surely running out of ammo as these sons of wankers kept on flying and required to shoot in the predicted direction and not at the precise location where they were at when the bullet exited the gun's mouth. From the vicious attacks right back at me, to the missed shots which, I, by some miracle, managed to keep in the lower percentile. But I was running out of the gold of the trade : ammunition, and there was the Mother Monster, spiraling around me, taunting me, darting her spikey tail at me so swiftly I couldn't always miss it. Let's just say that she was undeniably running the round and I was managing my best from not being speared. I aimed, counted, prayed the guardian of the Great Vault, shot a bullet. Missed the expected brain splatter but I managed quite handsomely to blind her!

"Ha! Take that, you flying bloody shit wanker!"

Like I mentioned previously, I was running out of decent creative swearing. Being alone and deprived of conversation wasn't helping either.

Lorelei kept me updated with the Maliwan situation on Promethea but it's not like we were having coffee and chit chatting about the latest boy drama, of which, on my end, I absolutely couldn't open heartedly share. I mean, I wasn't bedding Katagawa, but it wasn't better in terms of not being a complicated situation.

But back to the present at hand. The Mother Monster flying in stationary in front of me, one eye bleeding, with appreciable consistency and profusion from my perspective, one eye burning with rage - less appreciable from my perspective. I checked my gun : one bullet in the chamber. My last bullet. I was quite fucked. Unless I made a dash and slide under her and hoped for the best, a spikey end tail spear in my spine in the worse case scenario. I wondered for a second which of the two was the worse : being killed by a faceless Maliwanker - my pet name for them - or being brochetted by a flying dinosaur bird.

Glorious prospects.

Mother Monster had her good eye locked on me.

What if I shoot her other eye out?

What if you go bang the Vault Monster and ask him you're to his liking?

My chances were short of a miracle and miracles weren't Pandora's main currency.

I aimed and waited, my finger on the trigger, studying her every wing flap , every reptilian blink of her good eye. Tension was building up between us. Whose life was about to rejoin the stars in the sky?

I swallowed. I had to blink. I had consciously kept my eyes open as long as I could. I needed to blink. My eyes were dry.

Blessed second of refreshing darkness against the blinding clarity. Cursed welcome instant of darkness. Pain screamed and burned my left shoulder. I felt the soft viscous oozing of blood. I felt light headed. I wanted to keep the darkness a moment longer. I was dead anyway, might as well embrace the black horizon.

My finger pressed the trigger. I wasn't aiming. It wasn't about trying to get a killing blow, though I knew that my gun was pretty good at it, even when I, the owner, failed by a few millimeters, Maggie had my back, front and center.

A second shrieking wave in my left shoulder made my knees weak. I growled a muted protest against the burning pain. I swallowed dry. No more bullets. I was done for.

But I wouldn't let the beast get a free meal that easily. I blindly threw a grenade and at the sound of the fireworks exploding, let myself slip off the edge of the rocky cliff.

Normally, I would have muttered, under my breath, "not today", but today, I had found solace in the end of my journey and I was happy not dying by the gun of a Maliwanker but rather by a primal beast of the prehistoric age of an ass crack of a planet.

The fall was smooth, considering the situation. The wind caressed my cheeks, pressed oddly against my body, messed up my hair. Why was I thinking abouty hair? Ah! Right. My uncle had always completed me on my beautiful hair. Au-revoir uncle Wainwright. Keep on fighting!

I had thought for my mother. If it was true that we met our deceased family upon our death, I was dying happy, finally being able to hug and embrace my mother. Maybe I could finally ask her who my father was.

I landed.

Nicely. Softly.

In open arms.

The pain in my shoulder electrocuted me with pain. I grimaced and a tear escaped my eye.

"You alright, lass?"

A dry boulder rolled down the dry gorge of my throat.

I attempted to croak out a positive incentive but all I could conjure up was "Let me touch the soil please."

A moment of silence passed. The wind howled softly. A raak shrieked somewhere in the distance. A skag's growl echoed in the plains.

I was gently let down, something hard made contact with the ground and sand crackled softly. I let my left hand fall down, tearing out another tear of pain from my eye, and my heart leaped and bounced in mixed emotions. It was it. The harsh sandy dirt soil of Pandora; gritty with shards, but melting away in your hand like beach sand, scorching burning hot, (étouffant même au toucher). I grabber a handful, hugged in tight in my palm, let it elegantly flow free between my fingers, rejoining it's wholeness underneath us.

Who ever the voice was.

"So, I'm not dead." I assessed the situation.

"Not today!" The voice answered joyously.

I opened my eyes. He was against the sun and because of this had a sort of en aura around him. How uncanny.

"Name's Zane. Zane Flynt."

He answered before I asked.

"Ma..." I paused "Maggie."

"You're in a pretty bloody mess, Maggie."

The pain reminded me of its undeniable presence in my shoulder. I grimaced again and another tear escaped me.

"You were hunting raks?"

Was cleaning territory called a hunting party?

I breathed in the harsh, scorching dry hot air, letting it replenish me and burn my lungs dry.

I caressed the coarse soil once more, finding an ambiguous comfort in being still alive. I was so ready to move on to the next step - what ever it was.

"Thank you for saving my life."

He squeezed my side.

"Don't mention it."

I wanted to savour this moment a little while longer; it was comforting and comfortable being in this stranger's arms. I wanted to record his grip, his brace, his strength, but I knew better to get back on my feet. For starters I needed to scoot (look for) medical supplies in the nearest COV ghetto, hope they'd have left some behind. I dreamed of water too. I could have killed for a shower.

I groaned, croaked and cried as I managed to fall on my knees. Zane immediately wrapped an arm around me and helped me stand up.

"My vehicle is not too far away if you can walk, if you can't, I'll just hop you over me shoulder and carry you there."

I appreciated the weight of my body on my two feet.

"I can walk, thank you" I smiled "It's just my shoulder..."

As I mentioned the rascal screamed in silent fury, making me wince with a wave of burning pain.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. XVIII)

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Offended (part II)

(6x03/6x06/6x07)

Hello my friends! This is another volume from my Destiel Chronicles. The second part of "Offended".

I want to give special thanks to my dearest friend @agusvedder , this time she couldn't make the gifs, but she helped me with the discussion! Thank you girl!

Ok, now... Let's go straight to the point.

Castiel in angel soldier mode

Coming back to episode 6x03, Dean is witness of Castiel's soldier mode behavior.

The angel moves fast appearing and disappearing (we need to recall this chapter was written by Edlund, and he loves to write angels as dynamic forces, and make Dean yelling FREAKING ANGELS! Everytime he is in the middle of this) So Cas was moving around, fighting with some angels, and being very risky with a kid, touching his soul for information. That was an alert alarm for Dean.

Sam is soulless, so, he can't understand the concern about hurting a kid, and he is more on line with Castiel's soldier mode behavior. In the middle is Dean that can't believe CAS is doing such a thing to a boy.

Cas is so accelerated that Dean needs to stop him somehow. The angel gave just a little of information to their friends.

CASTIEL: It is simple: Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. I -- and many others -- the last thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic.

SAM: You're talking civil war.

CASTIEL: Technically, yes. Which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war.

So he didn't explain the details, but it was enough there...

Pointing here the fact that Dean is seeing Cas in his soldier mode, is a behavior he will have the whole season, and he will repeat I'M AT WAR a lot of times, as an excuse.

And I'm not forgetting this manner...

CASTIEL: If the angel we seek truly bought this boy's soul, when a claim is laid on a living soul, it leaves a mark, a brand.

Now... This topic had been analyzed a lot here, it would explain the handprint in Dean's shoulder and it also would explain why Sam was pulled out from Hell without a soul by Cas... He couldn't claim his soul (bc it was very difficult to do it by himself). Just a Destiel observation.

Let's jump now to the next episode.

Dean is mad at Castiel bc he doesn't pay attention to their problems

In episode 6x06 "You Can't Handle The Truth", we had just one scene with Castiel but with a huge intensity.

First of all... The episode begins with Bobby and Dean and this question...

BOBBY: Did you call Cas?

DEAN: 'Course I called Cas. He's not answering. Screw him. I can't wait anymore.

Dean is worried about Sam's behavior. He doesn't know what is going on with his brother and he just saw him how he waits for him to be turned into a vampire by a monster. So he had been calling Castiel. And Cas doesn't answer.

This is new for him, bc till now, Cas was there for them. And he was helping them. But since he returned to Heaven, things changed. And Dean felt he was let behind. And he can't understand why Castiel isn't there for him. Or why he isn't worried about Sam. He's so mad at Castiel bc of that. Bc he isn't there for him. Remember season 4? When they first met as I wrote in one of the first chronicles... Dean was pushing Castiel the whole time asking him for help, and he got mad when CAS didn't help him. And they just met! So this time is worst, bc they already are best friends, and Cas isn't there! So yes, Dean is mad at him.

And when Castiel finally appears... It shows...

DEAN (drains a glass of whiskey.) Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?

The way Dean is calling Cas is like if he wouldn't expect for the angel to show... But Castiel appeared... Bc Dean named an angelic weapon. Useful to the war.

CASTIEL appears. Hello, Dean.

DEAN: Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?!

CASTIEL: You asked me to be here, and I came.

DEAN: I -- I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick!

Look how mad is Dean. And Castiel's answer doesn't helps. The hunter feels like Cas is avoiding him about Sam's soul but, by the other hand, he mentions an angelic weapon and Cas is there. And Dean is calling Cas dick! He is very, very angry with him.

Now... It comes the excuse...

CASTIEL, abashed. I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam.

DEAN: Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer.

Ok, we have one important matter here... Cas had pulled Sam out of hell... But the boys don't know that, so... Cas is avoiding this bc he is lying to them. (Yeah.. beautiful Gamble's plot... Transforming an ALWAYS HONEST CHARACTER into a LIAR ONE).

So... Now Cas is seeing how distressful Dean is about his brother's behavior and about him not paying attention to his prayers... And he decides do something to calm him down...

He refills Dean's glass with whiskey while he explains Dean's biggest fears about his brother being Lucifer is imposible.

And why am I so sure about this gesture was made with that intention? Because we will have the parallel in episode 6x09 "Clap your hands if you believe" (Edlund's) in which after being kidnapped, Dean returns to find his brother with a woman in the bed. So he was so mad at him, that Sam decides to give him a glass of whiskey.

The difference here is the huge sexual tension between Dean and Cas.

Dean misses HIS CAS

When Dean was more calm, he tries to talk with CAS...

DEAN: What happened to you, Cas? You used to be human, or at least like one.

CASTIEL: I'm at war. Certain... regrettable things are now required of me.

Is obvious Dean misses HIS CAS. The one that was there just for him.

And the excuse "I'm at war" is there again. And then... Castiel disappears again!

This made Dean get mad again...

But Cas appears again. And he sees Dean is mad at him. So he tries another strategy.

He promise he will help him.

This was a lovers fight, my friend, right in front of our eyes... Because you'll see... Dean is the husband that reclaims more attention from his husband and Cas is trying to please him with flowers and chocolates...

"Sorry babe, I know I wasn't at home these days, the work is demanding me more hours but I will take you for dinner next Sunday! It's a Promise!"

Is so hilarious but so accurate...

But it seems that Cas didn't take Dean for dinner and this is what we had in episode 6x07...

Dean bossy with Cas

In episode 6x07 "Family Matters" Cas is trying to make a diagnosis about Sam, and he discovers he's soulless...

But we will talk about the Destiel fight here...

Dean is being so bossy with Cas... Like if he was his servant or something. And Cas is being submissive, of course... because he didn't take Dean out for dinner... And Dean is mad again.

Not just this but... When they went to see Samuel, their grandfather, this scene...

SAMUEL: This Castiel? You're scrawnier than I pictured.

CASTIEL: This is a vessel. My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building.

DEAN: All right, all right, quit bragging. So, you were dead, and...

Dean is cutting Castiel out, and is hilarious... But after this... Castiel has to come back to Heaven, because "he's at war", and Dean gave him a last order... In a bad way...

Cas is being sarcastic here... And we have another parallel with Bobby in episode 6x04. Bobby scolded the boys because they put their problems first. And is exactly what Cas is saying here.

So... Another lovers fight. And Dean being a jiltter offended husband.

And I'm keeping the "taking off my belt while liking my lips and watching you SUGGESTIVELY" scene for another chronicle...

To conclude

Dean was mad at Cas because he was putting the war over his problems.

He misses HIS CAS, the one that was always there for him. And he is disappointed about the way Cas is behaving.

Castiel tries hard to be in two sides at the same time and to please Dean helping him when he can, but he's also aware about Dean's selfishness.

I hope you like this meta! C-u in the next one!

If you want to be tagged just let me know.

If you want to read the previous Chronicles, here's the links...

Vol. XV/Vol. XVI/Vol. XVII

Buenos Aires July 3rd 2019 10:31 PM

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast

@emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel

[variantia]

headcanon   //   NADINE.   NACRE.

(   VERSE.   )   calling all the monsters.   //   same general setting as @nacreousknight​‘s Vampearl and monster hunter Citrine / Chun-hwa

That she has both beauty and immortality is enough for many people to either love or hate NADINE WHITE.   Not only has she gained the reputation of being one of the most stunning vampires in existence, she is also counted among the kindest.   As a human and in the early days of her unlife, she grew up in the glamorous bustle of Paris, France.

This life was plagued at first by misfortune -- a poor girl with no parents who seemed lost among the system, working different jobs as a dishwasher, housekeeper, or live-in nanny once she was old enough to be released from the orphanage.   She suffered both physically and emotionally under the stress of believing she would never be good enough for anyone and the constant fatigue of never seeming to have enough money to afford everything she needed to live comfortably.

More and more, she also saw great suffering around her.   Children who had been abandoned like her, friends who would pay rent before they would buy food, strangers in horrible situations that weren’t any of her business but still made her heart ache.   Someday, Nadine promised herself, she would make a difference for people who were suffering.   Someday, she would be able to offer help to those who needed it.

Someday did not come soon enough.

Decades had passed and still Nadine’s situation had not improved.   She was living in poverty, scraping by and at times starving just so she could keep a roof over her head.   A woman in her mid-fifties, she suddenly found herself with no job, and then quickly following, with no place to live, no food, and no money to survive on.   Despite her distinct lack of anything valuable, she was attacked one night.

As she lie on the street, cast aside by the would-be thief, bleeding out, an ethereal figure approached and hid the both of them from anyone passing by.   She asked Nadine, “Do you want to live?”   And even though living had been unkind to her so far, Nadine did.

The other woman was a vampire, and only after she had given the dying human a transformative bite did she allow herself to feed on the blood that had already been spilled.   All at once Nadine felt strong, more alive than she ever had before ; hushed tones between the two women carried a conversation of explaining what had happened, and that she would be okay now.   In an instant, the poor orphan girl became the newest daughter of an influential monster family.

Nadine lived with these vampires for hundreds of years in Paris.   Some of them were unsavory, but for the most part, her life was good.   She was cared for, adored, and happy.   The new power she found herself with, both physical and political, was a huge change.   The woman who became her mother guided her through this life with an understanding love which didn’t waver even when things grew difficult.

Eventually, Nadine remembered the promise that she had made to herself all those years ago : that someday, she would help people who she had seen struggling.   That suffering was still there, not simply disappeared just because she was no longer a part of it.   It wasn’t easy to bid her family GOODBYE, but her mother understood.   Knowing that she had the status and support behind her to make changes, Nadine left her family’s estate to begin a new life in different places.

Within the next few thousand years, she began her own family and her own reputation.   In addition to helping any humans and other monsters who needed it, Nadine scoured international news for reports of vampires who may have been possibly causing trouble.   She would seek them out and take them in to guide them just as her mother had done for her.   Many of these vampires were young and lost, SCARED of their powers and the changes in their life, and needed help more than anything.

This is where Nadine finds herself now.   Although she travels often, thanks to help from her family, she now has her own small, permanent estate where she lives with all her children.   Most of these children are ones she has taken in, but some of them are children she has given birth to, as she’s had several monster and human lovers over the years.

She also carves her place in the world as an activist and advocate for monsters -- and more broadly, for anyone who has been mistreated.   Monsters know her and her estate as a safe place, and many humans admire her gentle tenacity.

In a world where tensions may run high, Nadine leads by example to show how strong softness can be, and that THE KIND ARE NOT WEAK.