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jinx-xxed · 5 days ago

Note

Omg this idea has been simmering in my head for days SO, we've seen protective Remmick and we love but I'd love to see protective reader ngl! I'm thinking like obviously Remmick is the more experienced vamp here BUT I feel like sometimes he gets cocky and plays around too much and he'd get himself into trouble sometimes, in comes feral no-nonsense reader, on some guard dog shit lol. I think it'd be interesting to explore how he'd feel about being protected after he's been alone and had to be independent for so long.

And I just wanna finish this by saying thank you! I love your writing, its so comforting. <3

Wrangled Heart

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A/N; Tysm for giving me this request!! I really appreciate you thinking my writing is comforting, that’s the biggest compliment <33 I had tons of fun writing this one and exploring the reader character!! It’s a little different from my normal stuff and I enjoyed it! Also I’ve been watching a lot of Godless recently so I couldn’t help leaning into that western vibe a bit :^) I hope I’ve done this idea justice for you <3!!

Summary; Remmick gets himself into trouble, but luckily he has you to save him.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, angst to fluff, cowgirl reader, vampire reader, you own a farm, vampirism, hive-mind, shared pain, getting turned, Remmick saved your life, now you save his, protective reader, stubborn reader, vampire hunters, blood and injury, you get kinda fucked up, sharpshooter reader, you chew Remmick out, very pathetic Remmick, eating out, fingering, slight dom reader, Remmick cums in his pants, heavy aftercare, soft Remmick

Wc; 7.9k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

It’s two hours until sunrise when you feel it.

A sudden, sharp pain in your side that makes you gasp, makes the bowl you’d been holding fall from your hands and shatter on the wooden floor. You clutch at the unseen injury, wondering if some organ inside of you just ruptured, if that’s even possible for a vampire. The next one hits your left leg, right below the knee, nearly sending you to the ground with a loud curse. You grip onto the counter for balance, your claws coming out on instinct to scratch at the polished linoleum.

You hunch over, your fanged teeth gritted and your breath coming in shallow pants as new phantom injuries bloom along your body. You have to struggle to push through the forefront of panic in your mind, quiet the alarms so you can think rationally. You force yourself to calm, to realize you aren’t being attacked as the pain quickly dulls to nothing more than an itch beneath your skin. You understand these sensations, have felt them enough times before for there to be a sinking feeling in your gut.

You reach out towards the bond, the invisible tether that ties you directly to the beast that turned you, to Remmick. You follow it across the distance between you, the thing pulled tight like a bowstring, quivering with each other’s thoughts, emotions, and memories. Your head swims with flashes of the night through Remmick’s eyes, of unfamiliar men surrounding him, the scent of his blood thick in the air, his fear laced through it like a toxin. He struggles against the men but it’s futile in his state, his fangs flashing in attempts to fight them off. He gets punched in the jaw so hard that it snaps you back into your own body, the ache of the hit resonating in your teeth.

“Goddamnit, Rem.” You snarl under your breath, already turning on your heel and dashing upstairs. You’re quick to shed your nightgown, swapping it for your well-worn pair of work pants and a button up, then shoving your feet into your sturdy boots. You grab your cowboy hat off the hook you always put it on, securing it onto your head and snatching your hunting rifle resting just above it. You sling the strap of it across your chest because even with your claws and fangs and inhuman strength, you’ve never been able to give up your gun.

You burst out the front door of your farmhouse, immediately running towards the stables around the side. You haul the gate open, hurrying to the stall of your trusted horse, Ranger. She’s the granddaughter of the horse you’d had thirty years ago, each line of her family always being your chosen favorite. Ranger’s brown and white pelt is sleek and well groomed, her dark mane straightened, and her hazel eyes wide and alert, like she was ready for you. She huffs at you, her foot stomping once at the fact you’ve disturbed her rest. “I know baby, I know. I’ll make it up to ya, I promise.” You coo as you secure the saddle to her back with practiced ease.

As soon as you’re seated atop her, you bring her out from the stables and press your legs against her sides to urge her into a full gallop. Her hooves pound into the dirt as she breaks your property line, following your guidance towards the woods in the east. You let your bond chart your course, the rope that connects you to Remmick getting shorter and shorter by the minute. The remnants of the moon just barely illuminate the forest path, the one that’s been walked and trodden hundreds and thousands of times before. It runs miles into the untamed trees, lined with thick underbrush that rustles with the inhabitants of these woods that fall silent as your horse sprints past.

The deeper you go, the thicker the scent of panic and terror becomes. You can taste it on the roof of your mouth, can feel the way it makes your muscles tense like you’re the one being hunted. Your breath is sharp in your lungs, each one a little constricted with anxiety, not knowing what you’ll find at the end of the tether. It’s when there’s only a good fifty feet between you that you pull on Ranger’s reins, bringing her to a halt to dismount. You hide her amongst the bushes, tying her lead around a tree to keep her in place.

You soothingly run your hand along the bridge of her nose. “Be good for me, sugar. I won’t be long.” You promise, placing a kiss on her muzzle, Ranger’s head leaning up towards your touch.

Your steps are careful as you continue forward on foot, each step too light to possibly be human. You take off the strap of your rifle in a smooth motion, the weight of it familiar in your hands, loaded and ready. It feels like every part of you is on edge, your eyes wide, ears perked to any possible sound. You veer off the path to the right, concealing yourself in the underbrush, following the smell of blood and the constant, invisible tug that you accepted a long time ago.

Your grip on your gun tightens when you begin to hear snippets of conversation, of voices who aren’t concerned with disturbing the sanctity of night. They’re loud, crude, tinged with cruelty, and ones that you don’t recognize. You sneak forward until you reach a small clearing, stopping just at the edge of it, anger bubbling inside you at the sight of what’s before you.

Remmick slumped against a tree, his weakened body bound with thick rope, blood staining his torn clothes and skin, one eye swollen shut. He’s surrounded by five hunters, each of their outfits like an armory against your kind. Silver blades and bullets, wooden stakes, bits of garlic, and crosses around the necks. They laugh with each other, their faces concealed in shadow, their horses clearly uneasy.

“Can’t we talk this out, fellas?” Remmick coughs, his voice strained and cracked.

“Ain’t no talkin’ with the devil.” The man still sat on his horse sneers. You immediately connect that he’s the leader, something shiny like a badge pinned to his breast.

One of the hunters, the youngest one by the looks of him, crouches in front of Remmick. He digs his fingers into the vampire’s short black hair, his boldness near startling as he yanks Remmick’s head back. He winces at the rough motion, his fangs showing from his drawn lips. “This the one we been lookin’ for, ain’t it?” The hunter asks. With his free hand he draws a phantom line across Remmick’s neck, calculating. “Should we bring his head back for the sheriff?”

Another one scoffs. “If we can keep it from burnin’ up.”

“Easy enough. Just wrap it in one of them tarps or somethin’.” A third chimes in.

The younger man holding Remmick releases the vampire, leaving his head to fall limp with a small groan. The hunter motions to one of his companions. “Here, gimme yer knife.”

The other one, the lower half of his face covered in a thick beard and mustache, grumbles. “You ain’t bring yer own, boy?” He says while reaching back to his sheath.

“I forgot it, now just give it to me.” The other one says with an eye roll, making a grabbing motion with his hand.

The knife never gets to reach his grasp before a bullet cuts clean through his skull.

You’re quick to reload, shooting a second one dead before true chaos ensues. The hunters yell as their two buddies fall to the ground with blood splattering against the grass and horses rear up, shrieking to the skies. They search for the source of the gunfire before seeing the gleam of your eyes between the trees. “There’s another one of them monsters!” The hunter on the horse shouts, immediately aiming a pistol at you, firing without restraint while trying to keep his animal steady.

The bullets splinter the trunk you’d darted behind, following your path as you dash through the bushes. One manages to catch your arm, cutting through your shirt and burning the skin beneath with a hiss. You toss your own rifle aside, charging the clearing with sharpened teeth and extended claws. You jump up to tackle the leader off his horse, his surprised scream ringing in your ears as you both hit the ground hard. He thrashes in your hold, kneeing into your stomach, slamming the butt of his gun against you again and again in a desperate attempt to shake you off.

It doesn’t work before your fangs are digging into his neck, tearing his skin apart, letting his blood fill your mouth like it’s fresh water. It lights up your veins with a newfound strength, quieting the hunger that’d been pricking the edges of your mind. So focused on the man below you, you barely have time to react to the one that had come up behind you. You try to roll out of the way, but it doesn’t stop the knife from being buried in your side.

You screech as agony explodes through your body, your own blood pouring out around the blade as the hunter withdraws it. You attempt to lunge at him, to take him down like you did their leader, but you’re slammed into before you can. You’re shoved harshly against a tree with enough force to make something crack, the bearded man’s face a whirlwind of fury, his fists hitting your abdomen. He pulls you forward only to ram you into the trunk once again, your right shoulder dislocating with a loud pop. You see stars for a split second, your voice leaving you in a whoosh from the pain.

Remmick is fully alert now, straining against the ropes that bind him, your appearance giving him a new vigor. His red eyes are wider than the moon as he watches you, his mouth dropped open, fangs glinting and shiny with his saliva. His own thoughts are a chorus in the back of your mind, full of rage and awe:

My love. Don’t hurt her. Kill them all. My wife. So strong. Mine. Kill them, kill them-

“Shoot her!” The bearded one shouts, gritting his teeth as your claws drag along his arm.

Just beyond him you can see the other one taking aim, hoping to get you between the eyes. Right as his finger rests on the trigger, you bring your knee up into the gut of the man holding you hostage, a choked sound coming from him. You use the blaze of your pain as energy, dragging him forward as a gunshot rings in your ears. The bullet lodges into the man’s back, right above his heart, his yell being cut short. You let him fall to the ground, leaving the last one shaking in his boots, indistinguishable prayers whispered through his teeth.

His hands are quivering too much to take proper aim, so even in your bruised and bloody state you manage to dodge his bullets. You bring him down, ignoring the pain he tries to inflict with kicks and hits, your teeth opening his neck for you to drink from until he goes still.

Silence rings in the clearing as you sit up, your chest heaving, every part of you feeling like it’s covered in blood, and you have no idea what’s yours and what isn’t. You stagger to your feet, stumbling towards Remmick. You pick up your hat that had fallen off along the way, placing it safely back atop your head.

“Yer the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.” Remmick says when you reach him.

“Will you shut your damn mouth?” You snap, in no mood for his syrupy flirting while trying to undo his ropes with your one good hand.

His response is near instant. “Yes ma’am.”

As you work, you notice the man who got shot is still twitching on the ground. You can sense the way his life is quickly thinning, his quiet gurgles a plea for death. “Go eat.” You tiredly tell Remmick as you finally get his binds undone, sicking him on the hunter like a dog. It’s not like he deserves the free meal, but it’ll keep you from having to deal with him bitching and moaning about his injuries all day long.

Remmick visibly swallows, almost in disbelief of your graciousness. “Th-thank you, baby- yer so good t’me-”

You roll your eyes, watching as he latches onto the hunter, his noises finally going quiet as Remmick finishes him off. The sloppy sounds of his eating breaks the quiet and you see the way his numerous wounds steadily begin to heal. The discoloration on his skin disappears, the worst of his cuts closing at the edges. When he’s effectively sucked the man dry, you yank him up by the collar, blood soaking his front, a new shine to his eyes.

“Let’s go.” You say, ignoring the way Remmick bristles when you sidestep his offered support, his desire to try and help you in your injured state. You’re still too pissed to take it, to let your pride fall any further.

There’s two horses that ended up sticking around for the bloodbath and with a whistle, you get them to follow you. There’s always been something about you that draws animals to you, even with your supernatural attributes. You pick up your rifle you’d tossed aside when you pass through the bushes you’d hidden in just minutes prior, securing that strap across your chest once more.

With the horses on one side and Remmick on the other, watching you carefully, you make your way back to Ranger. She’s waiting for you right where you left her, ears swiveled forward, tail swishing behind her. You pet her with your working hand. “That’s my good girl.” You coo at her, undoing her lead. You swing yourself onto her back with some effort, hissing as the wound in your side oozes more blood, healing ever so slowly.

Remmick and Ranger watch each other uneasily, neither of them ever being real fond of the other. She takes a single step away from him, a snort blowing out of her nose with a shake of her head, making him hesitate. You grit your teeth together. “Remmick, so help me God, if you don’t get your stupid ass on this horse I’ll leave you out here to burn.”

He grumbles indistinctly but he steps forward and braces his hands on the saddle, not wanting to face any more of your wrath. He tries once but between his injuries and Ranger’s shifting, his foot slips and makes him stumble. The same thing happens a second time. “It’d help if you kept this damn thing steady.” He snaps.

You scoff. “Not my fault she don’t like you.”

He finally gets up on the third try, situating himself behind you, his chest comfortably pressed to your back. His hands come to your sides, some of your blood sticking to his palms but it doesn’t bother him any. You allow yourself to relax into his touch as you nudge Ranger into a trot, the other horses following behind. Part of you is relieved to feel Remmick’s body weight against yours, his thumbs drawing gentle, apologetic circles on your hips, knowing you very well could’ve lost him tonight. His presence has become so oddly steady and important in your life, it has been for years, and you don’t quite know what you’d do without it anymore.

It was a long time ago when you first met him, found him bleeding in your barn, not looking much different than he does now.

It had been the middle of the night when you were woken by the pigs causing a racket, squealing to the high heavens. You’d jumped out of bed, not even changing out of your night gown before you were grabbing your rifle, putting on your boots, and running outside. You’d thought for sure some big bad animal had managed to weasel into the barn, had gotten past your fences and locks.

The barn door was ajar, unlocked like someone or something had slipped inside and didn’t bother closing it behind them. You’d scowled and tightened your grip on your gun, holding it steady in front of you as you stepped past the doorway. There was only one light, a dim overhead that you kept on during the night, illuminating the place in a sickly yellow glow. The first thing you noticed were the splatters of red on the concrete floor, like somebody had dragged something bleeding across it. It led all the way to a back corner, the one closest to the goats.

The pigs were still throwing a fit, running around their pen, squealing to each other. Some of the other animals had joined in; goats were bleating, chickens were clucking in their coop, and from the smaller barn outside, you could hear your two cows mooing with everything they had. It was a proper cacophony. A few of them quieted when they saw you, knowing you were here to take care of whatever threat had invaded their home, giving you a chance to think above the noise.

The closer you got to that corner, the more you could make out some kind of lump that wasn’t there before. The stench of death and blood wafted from it, making your stomach churn. At first, the lump didn’t budge… but you moved a little too loud, your boot crunching a loose clump of hay, and then there was a flash. A flash of red eyes, more animal than human with the way they reflected the light that barely reached, a flash that had you gasping and your finger flying to the trigger. The red faded into a deep blue so quickly you thought you imagined it, now left with a babbling man instead of a monster.

He shied away from your gun, backing himself up even further, shaky hands in front of his face like protection. His body was laced in wounds, beaten, bloody, and bruised, his clothing torn and soaked with red. His voice was fractured, coated in a thick southern drawl. “Please- please have mercy I- I ain’t have nowhere else to go they- they was chasin’ me I- just for the night ma’am, please-“

You nearly shoved the barrel of your gun to his forehead. “Who? Who was chasin’ you all the way onto my damn property?”

He was almost crying now, his words stumbling over one another. “Real- real bad men, ma’am- they wanted to rob me- take everything I got I- I didn’t know where else to go-“

“And you ain’t come to the house? Decided to crawl into my barn instead?” You demanded.

“I- I didn’t wanna bother ya- just needed somewhere to hide-“

You glowered. “Bothered my pigs plenty.”

“And I’m very sorry ma’am I- I promise I won’t bother ya none just- just let me stay for the night I- I’ll be gone by mornin’-“ He said, his whole body shaking like a dog left in the cold.

With the way he was bleeding, you didn’t know if he’d even last until morning. You kept staring at him, studying his dark hair, his sturdy features—he looked as if he’d known what it was like to work on a farm. “What’s your name?” You finally asked after a minute of tense silence.

He gave an uneasy smile, one that seemed too sharp instead of polite. “Remmick, ma’am. Yours?”

You hesitated before giving him your name, figuring you might as well return the pleasantry. You didn’t trust this Remmick fellow for shit but if you wanted to not deal with a dead body by sunrise and for your animals to have some peace, you needed to get him out of the barn. Regardless, your papa taught you better than to leave anyone—man or animal—to suffer. Plus, you had a gun and perfect aim and he didn’t.

You sighed, lowering the rifle by just an inch. Remmick noticed, something sparking behind his eyes like some twisted sense of hope. “C’mon then. I’ll patch you up and then send you on your way. Don’t want you ‘round here longer than you need to be.” You said, nodding towards the barn door.

His mouth dropped open just barely in disbelief, his hands coming together like he was praying. “Oh, thank you- thank you ma’am I- I owe ya my life-“

“Don’t be sayin’ that just yet.” You muttered.

You made him go ahead of you, still keeping your rifle tight against your chest as you both walked towards the farmhouse—well, more like you walked and he stumbled. You stepped into the house, expecting him to follow you, only to find he halted at the doorway, looking at it nervously. You arched a brow at the weirdo. “C’mon, what are you waitin’ for?”

You caught the subtle way his whole body seemed to react to your words, a barely there shudder and another flicker in the blue depths of his eyes. His hesitation was gone after that, immediately joining you inside with sure footsteps. You brought him into the kitchen, had him sit at your table while he looked around and you dug through a cabinet for the first aid kit. You got a bucket of water and a few rags before sitting yourself in front of him.

Remmick let you touch him without reservation, watching intently as you scrubbed the blood off his muscled arms, dabbing whatever wounds you found with antiseptic. There weren’t as many as you thought, and the ones that had seemed bad had miraculously started to close. You tried to ignore it, thinking instead that maybe he’s just a strangely fast healer.

While you were busy, his eyes had locked on to the old wedding ring on your finger, the way it caught the light drawing his attention. “Your man somewhere ‘round here?” He asked, breaking the silence so suddenly that you flinched. His voice had changed, holding more confidence, no longer a whimpering mess.

You met his gaze for just a second. “Why’re you askin’ about him? Thinkin’ of tryin’ somethin’? Think I can’t kill you myself?”

Remmick chuckled at that, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh I know ya could, sweetheart. I was just wonderin’ what kinda man sends his wife into the barn alone with a gun to fend off a beast.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Yeah? And what kinda beast are you?”

He hummed low. “Maybe the worst kind, darlin’.”

You scoffed, nearly laughing in his face. “Yeah, right. You’d die to a bullet just the same.”

Before he could respond, you took his face in your hand, bringing him closer so you could wash off the dirt and blood. “My husband ain’t around anymore.” You said. “Hasn’t been for five years. Sickness took him.”

“M’sorry.” Remmick managed to say despite the way you squished his cheeks.

You shrugged. “Don’t be. I miss him every now and again but I’ve been handlin’ myself and this place just fine.”

You sat back when you deemed him clean enough, free of all the blood on his skin with a couple patches over the worst of his injuries. You gave him a pair of your husband’s old clothes, ones that fit him surprisingly well, and brought him into the living room, showed him the couch. “You can stay here for the night but if you move from here I’ll shoot you, understand? And I want you gone by mornin’.”

Remmick nodded earnestly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank ya for your kindness. If there’s any way I can repay ya-“

“You can repay me by bein’ gone, and not bringin’ anymore trouble ‘round here.” You said sharply, to which he just nodded again and took his place on the couch.

It was over for you after that night, because Remmick never left. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you let him stick around, to turn your home into his as well. It didn’t help that he was already enthralled with you from the first moment he saw you. With your rugged and earthy scent with a hint of something sweet beneath it like it was buried a long time ago, your complete lack of fear, and those sharp edges that he wanted to see every side of, he couldn’t get enough. It made him stay, made him watch you curiously and follow you around to see what you did.

He fit into your life like some puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing. Though he was definitely an odd one, you didn’t question it. Didn’t question the way he never ate the meals you cooked, the way he stayed far from open windows, the way he always slipped out in the middle of the night when he thought you were sound asleep, the way his eyes caught the candlelight wrong. You didn’t question why he never stepped foot outside during the day, or why he came back smelling like rusty metal in the morning.

You two lived in easy cohabitation for close to a year, with you spending your days out in the fields with the animals while he remained safely tucked inside the farmhouse. Remmick fell into farm life easily, as if it was something he’d been doing for longer than you could understand. He eagerly helped however he could when the sun went down—hauling bags of feed into the storage shed, wheeling in bales of hay, grooming whatever animals would tolerate him. Most of them didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, like they knew something about him wasn’t right. It made you laugh harder than you had in years when one of the pigs rammed into him and knocked him over.

There was one night you were in the barn together, Remmick giving a few of the animals their dinner while you were high on a ladder, trying to fix some faulty wiring for the heater that had been acting up. You had been so focused on it that you didn’t realize how far you’d been leaning forward, or that the ladder had been resting on an uneven part of the floor.

Remmick wasn’t quick enough to catch you, to notice the way the ladder wobbled so dangerously, the thud and crack of your body making him violently sick. Bag of feed dropped and forgotten, he’d ran to your side. You’d never seen him so horrified as he fell to his knees, whispered no’s falling from his lips over and over while he cradled your broken body close, something within it shattered beyond repair. You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, trembling hand just barely finding his sleeve to hold while you stared at the ceiling. You knew you didn’t want to die, especially not like this, but you were glad you weren’t dying alone, at least.

He couldn’t stand it—you, who had taken him in, cared for him so, who didn’t ask questions, now lying in his lap as the light visibly dimmed from your eyes. He wouldn’t let it happen, wouldn’t let you die right in front of him while there was still something he could do. He’d save you in a different way, the way he knew best, with teeth and blood and the tearing of flesh. The last thing you saw was those fangs you always tried to ignore, red eyes burning bright and fierce with desperation and need.

You woke up as something else, something new and as bloody as the day you were born. You were still you, but you knew you weren’t the same, that you never would be again. Your eyes opened to the sound of humming, a tune you didn’t recognize but felt older than the earth, a tune to lead you from death. Your breath came through your lungs in a strangled gasp, like your unfamiliar body wasn’t used to the action. You jolted harshly, your hands scrabbling at the air before a comforting, calloused hand found yours and held tight. “I got ya, baby, I’m here.” Remmick said soothingly, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. You were still in his arms, him holding you close like he was scared you’d drift away. There was nothing but relief in his crimson eyes when he saw you blink up at him, when your bones snapped back into place.

You sat up slowly, finally able to get a good look at Remmick, to see what he truly was. Blood stained his front—your blood, coating his chin and neck and the sharp teeth in his mouth. You felt your connection to him almost immediately, like the tightening of a knot, tying you to him in the deepest way possible. Every one of his memories was now yours, every thought and emotion shared between you like the flowing channel of a stream, able to flip through him like an open book.

“Re- Remmick- what-“ You tried to say, your throat struggling to remember the shape of the words or how to speak them without making them crack, like they became shredded by your new fangs on their way out.

“Easy, baby, just take it slow.” He told you, a hand gentle on your back. “Yer like me now, darlin’, hungry and wrong and violent and m’sorry- I- I just couldn’t let ya go, it was the only way. These animals need ya, I need ya. I’ll show ya everythin’ I know, I promise. You’ll always have me.”

You were slow to take to being a vampire. There was still part of you that was disgusted at having to drink blood, though you were no stranger to it because of the farm. You hated the way hunger constantly prodded at the back of your mind, you hated not being able to feel the sun on your skin anymore, not being able to sweat out in the fields with the horses.

Now unable to work during the daytime, you had to hire farmhands. Ones that didn’t question the fact they never saw you, ones that just quietly did their jobs, took their pay, and went home. You also had them take your produce into town, to sell it at the markets and bring back the profit so the townsfolk wouldn’t get too suspicious. If anybody did ask, you always said you got too busy, too caught up with caring for the farm to venture out. It made it stupidly easy for you and Remmick to slip out and find food without being discovered.

No matter what, you weren’t alone because Remmick held true to his promise, he taught you every little thing he’d learned over his impossibly long life, eager to finally be able to show you something new for once instead of the other way around. He always caught you when you stumbled, held you close when it got hard, kissed away your frustration, made all of it seem okay, made you believe in him.

It’s gotten better with time, just like it always does, and you think you’ve finally fallen into a cycle you could get used to… until there’s nights like tonight when Remmick decides to cause trouble.

You’re broken out of your thoughts as you gain view of the farmhouse, as you lead the new horses to pasture and Ranger back to her stall, freeing them of their saddles and gear. With your wounds still open and tender and closing slowly, you stagger towards the house as the sun threatens to rise over the horizon. You let the door slam shut behind you both, roughly propping your gun on the ground.

“The hell were you thinking, Remmick? The fuck did I tell you?” You demand, watching as he flinches at your raised tone, the rage simmering in your eyes.

He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I know-“

“No, you clearly don’t know! It don’t get through that thick fucking skull of yours that you can put both of us, all of this,” you motion to the house, to the farm outside, “in jeopardy, bringing those damn hunters ‘round here, putting their bodies this close to my fucking property line. You better pray to whatever god damned you that nobody finds them before I can go back and get rid of them.”

Remmick’s face is full of regret, knowing how badly he fucked up, knowing he’s the reason you got hurt, the reason you’re so upset. “Baby please just- I didn’t mean t’bring ‘em here I- I tried to draw ‘em away but they kept chasin’ me-“

“I told you not to go east! I told you so many fucking times that there’s hunters that way, and what do you do? The fuck were you doing over there anyway, huh?” You snap, your teeth glinting with every word, your clawed hand gesturing wildly.

His body hunches in on itself like he’s trying to look smaller, more apologetic. “There wasn’t enough food ‘round here, I just-“

“God forbid you listen to me, right? I been doin’ this shit for nearly fifty years now and you still seem to think that means I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. Why do you think I ain’t fightin’ for my life every week, huh? I ain’t runnin’ from hunters and wooden stakes and holy water, I ain’t dragging them back to my goddamn home. How d’you think I do that, Remmick? I’m quiet, I don’t bother anybody, and I stay where I’m s’posed to.” You’re inches from him now, tension sparking between you, your eyes ablaze. You flinch back when your shoulder sends a jolt of pain through your body, making you groan. “And now my shoulder is fucked—again.” It’s ironic that the one that got dislocated is the same one that’s always caused you trouble, even now in your immortal life.

Remmick reaches out towards you, but you step away from his hold, making him pause, even though his frustration is clear in his expression. “Baby, just let me help-“

“Go get some water and a rag.” You tell him sharply, already making your way upstairs without another glance.

Though Remmick would usually argue, would stake his place, he knows you better than that, knows to let you have your space when you need it. He lets you disappear upstairs while he does as you told him. It’s not unusual for you to act like this, to use your anger as some type of shield against worrying about him. The anxiety that had been clenching your lungs ever since you found him in the woods has finally let go enough to allow you to breathe. In the safety of your home, you feel like you could collapse at any second, and there’s still some guarded part of you that doesn’t want to do it in front of him.

Once in your bedroom, you allow yourself to take a deep, shaky breath. You shuck off your bloody and torn shirt—another one to throw away—leaving you in your bra and pants. The cold air kisses your skin, leaves goosebumps in its wake, and reveals the mess of your other injuries. The worst is your stab wound, though it’s nearly closed now but still pulsing beneath the surface.

You move towards your record player, putting on one of your favorites, the soothing melodies filling the room and calming the fire burning in your gut. You then stand in the doorway, bracing your shoulder against the edge, drawing breath into your lungs for some kind of courage. You hold it tight as you slam your shoulder as hard as you can into the wooden frame, a choked yell and a curse forcing its way out of your throat and a newfound pain bursting through your limbs. There’s a successful pop while your vision spins and you think you’d fall to the floor if Remmick didn’t catch you in his arms first.

“Now baby, why would you go and do that?” He demands, full of concern. “You should’ve let me do it-“

“I got it just fine on my own.” You say, though your words sound strained. You make yourself stand, pushing away from him, rolling your shoulder experimentally. The functionality is back, though you can feel the residual ache that makes you wince.

You avoid Remmick’s gaze despite how he tries so desperately to catch yours, instead pretending to be focused on your blood-stained arm and god- it breaks him. He takes your hands roughly in his, making you turn towards him. “Darlin’ please- please just look at me- I’m sorry baby, I know I messed up- yer right I- I shoulda listened to ya just please look at me-“ He begs, practically falling apart at the seams at the thought of you not gracing him with your affection. “I- I can’t live in this world if yer mad at me- you can’t do that to me, baby- we’re together in this you promised me-“

The pure desperation in his voice, the undercurrent of real fear, makes you finally meet his eyes. You reach your hands up, cradling his face between your palms, watching as he shudders at the action, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. “Damnit, Rem, you scared me.” You whisper. “You got into real trouble tonight.”

His hands eclipse yours. “I know, m’sorry-“

You break off his apology with a kiss, one fierce and bruising, relishing the way he instantly leans into it. You can feel how grateful he is for your touch, like he wouldn’t care if the entire world burned down as long as you kept holding him. Your tongues brush against each other, swiping off the last remnants of blood, tasting the iron tang that’s a constant between you. He groans appreciatively, his hands finding their place on your waist, the weight of them steady and familiar.

Remmick leads you to the bed while keeping his mouth on yours, swallowing every sound you make, drinking your spit like it’s water. He sits you down gently, nudges your legs apart with his knee before his lips are trailing down your body. “Lemme make it up to ya, baby. Lemme treat ya good.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw and then down your neck, past where he bit you all those years ago. He cleans the blood off of you as he goes, the water and rag you’d told him to get long forgotten as he licks you like you’re his dessert. He kisses over your injuries, quietly urging them to heal faster, cursing the men that dared lay a hand on you.

He shimmies your pants down your legs so that all you’re left in is your hat and undergarments, though those don’t last long. Your bra and underwear find themselves on the floor, your nipples perked in the sudden chill. His palms smooth up your thighs as he sinks to his knees between your legs, spread wide to reveal your glistening cunt to him. His eyes gleam in the darkness, full of a different kind of hunger, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth. “My pretty girl.” Remmick tells you, kissing the insides of your thighs, steadily building up to that first lick through your folds.

As soon as his tongue is on you, your head falls back with a sound caught between a hum and a moan. With your arousal now heavy on his taste buds, he knows there’s no holding himself back. Remmick dives into your pussy like a man starved, collecting every drop that you give him with the flat of his tongue, dragging it up through your cunt and to the bundle of nerves at the top. He sucks your clit into his mouth, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, your whines becoming louder as your hips begin to move in rhythm against his face.

Your fingers tangle in the black waves of his hair, keeping him right against your pussy—though he wasn’t going anywhere anyway. You know he loves when you pull at him, when you use him like a toy for your release. “That’s it, Rem, doin’ so good-“ you gasp, making him groan at the praise. You can feel the reverberations in your core, nothing but pure desire in them as he sucks and licks and kisses, the tips of his claws digging into the plush skin of your thighs. His cock strains painfully against his pants, and he can’t help but grind against your leg at the same time, desperate for any kind of friction.

You moan loud when he adds two fingers, stretching you open and pressing in all the right places. His tongue focuses on your clit, drawing patterns in a mixture of slick and spit while his fingers pump in and out of you with a steady pace. “Fuck- yes- such a good boy-“ You whine, Remmick shuddering from the petname, grinding his dick against you a little harder.

Remmick knows you’re close with the way your muscles tense, your pleasure becoming his pleasure between the bond that connects you, a knot forming in your lower abdomen and a fire raging beneath your skin. It only encourages him, his tongue licking across every inch of you, his fingers scissoring your plush walls, feeling the way they pulse and flutter. He whines into your cunt, humping you like an animal, chasing his own release at the same time.

With a final suck of your clit, you’re cumming around his mouth and fingers, nails digging into his scalp and your moan echoing in the room. He’s quick to follow, groaning brokenly as he soaks his boxers with his cum, the hot, wet mess pressing through to his pants, his whole body trembling. He doesn’t stop licking at you until he’s sure he got every ounce of your cum, until you have nothing left to give and you’re twitching in his grip. “Can’t get enough of ya- taste so goddamn sweet-“ Remmick pants against you when he finally pulls away to rest his head on your thigh, his chin shiny with your cum and his drool. You hum, brushing the sweat soaked curls from his forehead, his eyes closing like a content cat.

There’s a moment of pause where the room is only filled with the sounds of your shared, heavy breathing before his hand finds your knee, his thumb rubbing circles against your soft skin. “Yer still upset with me. I can feel it.” He mumbles, eyes opening again slowly so they can reach yours. One tug at your bond and he can feel the way you’re still tender from the night in more ways than one, even as you act soft with him now.

You sigh and cup his face once more, holding the weight of it in your palms. The red of his irises has begun to fade, blue starting to poke through as his adrenaline dwindles. There’s so much emotion within them as he looks at you, silently begging you to be honest. “You almost got killed.” The words are quiet, like an admission of a fear you don’t want to speak into the world.

“And you saved me.” He responds, equally as quiet but with reverence woven in.

“I might not always be here to do that.” You say bluntly, forcing yourself to speak hard truths, even despite how they threaten to make him crumble. You can see the way alarm sparks in his eyes at the mere suggestion. Your thumbs rub against his cheeks. “Why didn’t you call for me? Why did you leave me to guess at what happened?”

Remmick’s face turns just slightly so he can kiss your palm. “Because if I was gonna go out, I wanted to go out knowing you were safe. But I shoulda known better.” He huffs a laugh. In truth, he’s still not used to having someone care for him deep enough to actually come for him, to be there when he needs it most after hundreds of years of being brutally alone. Even now, he struggles to understand why you do it, why you put yourself on the line for something like him.

You’re quiet for a moment, and then, “I could’ve lost you.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby, I promise.” He says with nothing but an earnestness so deep you have no choice but to believe him. “M’sorry, please don’t be mad, darlin’. I’ll do anythin’.”

Remmick knows he probably shouldn’t have said that as soon as you get a gleam in your eye. Your smile is soft but teasing. “If you really mean it, then you can wrangle the pigs inside later tonight.” You tell him, knowing how much trouble they always give him, running circles around him like he holds no authority at all.

His head hangs dramatically with a sigh. “Fine…anythin’ for you, baby.”

“And the goats.” You add. “Oh, and collecting the chickens. The horses too.”

He immediately sits up at that, expression terrified as bad memories spring to the forefront of his mind. “Now hold on, nuh uh, I ain’t gettin’ kicked again. I’ll do everythin’ else but those beasts.”

You laugh, taking your hat and pulling it down over his eyes, making him smile. “Alright, that’s your one exception.”

He always looks good with your hat on, especially as he tilts it back up over his forehead to rest properly on his hairline. You pull him up to kiss him, a soft, loving thing between you this time. It’s broken when your right shoulder smarts, still recovering from being dislocated, making you wince. Remmick frowns, kissing your shoulder like he could make it better with just his adoration. “How ‘bout I run you a bath? Get you cleaned up?” He offers quietly.

You hum your agreement. “Only if you join me.”

He smirks. “‘Course darlin’.”

Remmick helps you up, enjoying how you finally lean your weight against him, letting him lead you to the bathroom. He runs the hot water until the tub is full, adding the soaps and oils you like the best, holding your hand as you gingerly step into the warmth and he slips in behind you. You relax into his hardened body and gentle touch as he scrubs all the grime of last night off of you, as he rubs your shoulder with experienced hands to try and get out the aches and knots.

You stay there until the water starts to run cold, until Remmick is drying you off and putting you in your softest robe and nicest pair of pajamas. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m ’bout to break, y’know.” You tell him, even though you do appreciate the extra care. Now all clean and comfortable and your wounds gone, you can finally be at ease.

He kisses your cheek as he brings you back to bed, the sheets freshly changed and smelling like soap. “I’m just treatin’ ya like the woman I love, darlin’.”

Under the covers he brings you into his arms, holding you tight as you do the same, fingers clutching at his shirt. Your eyes drift shut, and the last thing you think is how grateful you are that you get to have him for another day.

#falls to my knees #I say this every time but #sorry this took so long </3 #I don’t realize how slow I am until I��m writing smth for someone askdjsjbdjd #jinx-xxed asks #remmick #sinners Remmick #remmick x reader #remmick smut #vampire fanfic

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doiliedaze · 16 days ago

Note

your writing is sooo good!!! i loved your vamp sev!!!(⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) can you write reader coming home horny af and finding sevika taking a fat nap so they borrow her prosthetic to use it as a sex toy, sev wake up to her moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat ☺️ (i've seen this ideia around but not a single fic about it.)

Freak Hoe

Warnings: somno, dub-con, established relationship, using Sevikas arm, reader has back dermals, reader going through extra miles with these positions lol, desperate reader, mean! sev, Sevika instructs reader, mutual masturbation, tribbing, tongue sucking, spit swapping, reader begging, choking (s! receiving), degradation, impact play, praise

Genre: smut

A/n: Marking as a dark fic just in case!! I literally saw this and went y’know what hell yeah LMAOOOO but thank you so much for the compliment anon it’s deeply appreciated ٩( ᐛ )و I’m excited to bring this fantasy to life! After seeing a comment on me using this song I had to use it as the title lol! I CANT BELIEVE THERES 501 OF YOU ALL OMG HUGS ALL AROUND WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE OUT PRIDE🫶🏿🩷

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The whole day your clit was throbbing. Didn’t matter how you walked or sat, nothing slightly eased it…even masturbating a bit in the bathroom at your job.

All you had in mind was your girlfriend, how she could take care of the ache!

You damn near swing the door open and call out to her, only to be met with silence. Is she not here?

Solemnly you walk into the shared bedroom until you were met with the soft snores of your girlfriend. You almost jump up and click your heels because today is the day you need some!

You place your stuff down and change into some pj’s.

“Sev wake up!” You pout as you shake your girlfriend to no avail. To see if she was fucking with you, you flash her…nothing

“That usually works…fuck!” You fall to her side all hope lost till you feel something cold, hard, sturdy…

Just one of her prosthetic fingers twitching as it does when she sleeps. A little lightbulb shines over your head as you peer over to see how asleep she really is.

“She wouldn’t mind…I mean she always says, “I’m always of use if you need me baby” or something like that.” You mutter to yourself.

You don’t know why you’re pretending to have some composure. With a quickness you strip bare and position your pulsating hole over the propped hand.

At first you had a hard time getting her fingers in so you just humped her palm. It was some good stimulation but it wasn’t good enough! Irritated you pick up the hand and grasp her middle and ring finger and fuck yourself back on it.

You feel a sense of relief wash through you as her thick fingers stretch you out. Your body is shaking especially your ass and hips and you’re panting out her name tongue lolled. Drool coats the sheets as you reach your free hand back to play with your neglected clit. You feel close just off this alone but you crave more! So you fumble around stretching your arms back to get another finger in.

The scene is pathetic, face down ass up fucking yourself back on your sleeping girlfriends fingers until you feel her curl them. All movements stop, not knowing if the sleep is causing the movement or she woke up.

“Don’t stop ‘m tryna watch doll” she rasp sleep sewn into her voice. Slowly you get back to the groove of things but a shyness hits your chest. “C’mon you can be louder than that? You didn’t think about your volume when I was fucking sleeping so don’t think ‘bout it now.” She states with sims bass in her tone.

You let out a shaky sorry and she sighs, “let go of my fingers” she says softly and you do. She re-positions the both of you where you’re on your back and she’s above you.

“Gonna listen to me right?” Desperately you nod ready for her to take you!

“Wanna see you fuck yourself, don’t stop till you cum.”

Disappointment fills your voice, “but-”

“But nothing bitch you’re lucky I’m staying awake right now c’mon”

“Sev please touch me, this isn’t gonna do anything for me please!” You damn near cry wanting her to just give you what you’ve been craving.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself” she says slowly.

With that you sink three fingers deep inside yourself and start off on a fast pace. It didn’t take you long to cum already having some buildup.

Before you can come down from your high she slaps you with her prosthetic hand.

“Again” she orders having little regard for how you feel. Which breeds lust into your stomach.

This time her prosthetic hand slips into her hand and rubs her fat clit. Her cunt getting wet watching you touch yourself. Her grey eyes studied your body as your free hand plays with your nipple, irises blown, drool on your chin. So perfect for her.

As Sevika feels her orgasm building she pauses to strip her lower half, string of wetness attached to her boxers.

“Move” she mutters as she takes out your fingers. Placing her warm clit against yours the feeling enough to drawl a moan outta the both of you.

Her thrust were fast and sloppy, cunts sliding against each other. You pull her in close for a kiss, shoving your tongue down her throat. Causing her to choke and gargle on it.

To catch her breathe she pulls away a bit and you whisper suck it and stick out your tongue. The grinding almost gets slower to match the pace of Sevika bobbing her head on your tongue, saliva dropping in-between y’all.

A whimper came from her throat as you choke her, digging your nails in to add some pressure. You pull back to whisper, “fuck me faster.”

Her hips catch up in speed, aiming to please you. Sevika moans as you add more pressure to her neck.

Her hips stutter as she stuffs her face in the crook of her neck and bites down to alleviate pressure.

You moan out her name and buck your hips up as they stutter against hers, finally getting the orgasm you’ve been craving all day.

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Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @dollywons

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sacr1ficialang3l · 4 months ago

Text

The darker the fruit, the sweeter.𖤐

DEAN WINCHESTER X GOTH!READER (meet her)

SUMMARY: The brothers and reader are investigating a new case when they makes a new furry friend. Dean is not a big fan of him at first, but they both soon find out that they are more alike than they expected. 5.3k

WARNINGS: fem!reader. this is all pretty fluffy and cute. finally getting together.

NOTES: goth!reader is back! I genuinely love writing for her so much. I had a more complex plot for this idea but it was way too long as it is. Maybe one day I will expand it and post it in ao3 instead. Let me know if you'd be interested in that! As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

You hated hunts when you didn’t know what you were dealing with, but they were usually also the most “fun”, as fun as hunting monsters that can kill you can get.

Because yes, vengeful spirits and vamp nests and werewolves were always easy to recognize, and more or less an easy gig. But when the creature was unknown, it was dangerous. Not knowing what you were dealing with could make the difference between life and death, but the research was just so much fun.

Reading books and articles of lore about creatures all around the world, Sam and you hunched over his laptop for hours talking about Telkhines, or maybe an unicorn? And What the hell is a selkie?

It was like a big game of Clue where you had to put together who, where, and with what. Just that in this game, you could be the next victim, or Sam, or Dean.

Anyway, the important thing was, you didn’t know how to feel right now.

People had been disappearing without any explanation, not a trace of them anywhere. There was no connection or similarities between the victims, all different ages and different genders. It had to be your kind of thing, because the people would disappear from their home, usually at night, but there was never any sign of break-in, and it was very improbable that so many people from the same town had just decided to ditch for no reason.

That is why, after a long day of talking to victims’ families and going over every police report and lore book available, Sam, Dean, and you return to the motel room with exhausted expressions and slumped shoulders.

The night was cold, and you couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and finally get some sleep, your feet aching from the platform boots you refused to stop wearing and your eyeliner smudged after you accidentally rubbed your eyes three hours into researching.

When you had checked into the motel room that morning, you were told that there was only one room available. This was something that happened every once in a while, and if you had to be honest, it didn’t really bother you. Yes, three grown adults in one shitty motel room was a little cramped, but you had spent so much time alone, it felt nice to be around people, especially people you trusted as much as you trusted the Winchester brothers. This was also why you never minded sharing a bed. It was… warmer, less lonely.

So every time this happened, you would swap who you share with.

Sharing a bed with Sam was fine. He was huge and would eventually push you to the edge of the mattress, but it was fine.

Sharing with Dean, on the other hand, was an ordeal.

He would usually try to take the couch, except when the motel was shitty enough to not have a couch or for it to be more akin to a huge rock than a comfortable place to lay down. Those times, you forced Dean to sleep in the same bed with you.

“It’s not big deal, Dean. Come on, stop throwing a tantrum. It is cold, get into bed.”

That would usually do the trick. You would lay awkwardly next to each other, both of you on your back and facing the ceiling. But then, when the only thing around you was the darkness and silence of the night, you would get more comfortable. Turning around in the bed, facing each other, knees brushing or arms touching. You would listen to the other breath, and your eyes would sometimes meet under the barely-there moonlight filtering through the window, both of you frozen, but feeling more at peace than you ever had. One night, when Dean had an especially bad case of insomnia, you ended up running your hand up and down his back until he fell asleep.

But you were friends, of course.

This time it was Dean’s turn to share, and you were equally excited and terrified.

It all leaves your mind when you find a huge, majestic doberman sitting down in front of your motel room. The sight of the dog immediately makes all exhaustion fly away from your body, but before you can say or do anything, Dean is taking a step towards it.

“Excuse me, dude.” He murmurs, trying to get around the dog.

The doberman immediately snarls, snapping his sharp teeth towards Dean. You watch as Dean jumps back, and in a reaction that you know is pure instinct from fighting monsters for years, he gets ready to fight. He doesn’t hurt the dog, doesn’t even try to. But his shoulders tighten in that way they do when he is expecting something to jump him, and he is thinking what the best way to knock it down is.

Before anything else can happen, you grab Dean’s arm and pull him back.

“Don’t.” You command firmly, quickly dropping to your knees in front of the animal, who was still baring his teeth. You ignore Dean’s warning and you simply make yourself small while quickly taking all of the rings in your right hand off, sliding them into your jacket pocket before slowly, very carefully offering your hand to the dog.

Dean says your name urgently again. “I don’t think you should-”

“Shhh.”

The doberman, who was almost taller than you as you kneeled on the floor, was still baring his teeth and tense, but he wasn’t snarling anymore. You slowly move your hand closer, palm down, and he growls when you get a little too close. Both Sam and Dean call your name this time.

“It’s okay.” You murmur gently, for both the brothers and the dog. “It’s okay, pretty boy. I won’t hurt you, okay?”

Your sweet, soft voice seems to calm down the animal, and he moves his snout closer, smelling your hand from a distance. He is careful at first, hesitant, but a second later he is knocking the palm of your hand with the top of his head.

“There you go, see? It’s okay.” You pet the top of his head, movements soft and slow. When the doberman stops baring his teeth, you scoot closer. “You’re not dangerous.You’re just scared, right?”

By now both your hands are petting the dog, cradling his little (or not so little) face, rubbing up and down his neck, scratching behind his ears.

“See?” You ask again, but this time you do turn to look at Sam and Dean, who are looking down at you in disbelief. “There was no need to fight, he’s a sweetheart.”

“He looked ready to bite my head off.” Dean grumbles, and you are about to retort when the cold nose of the doberman hits your neck and he starts to sniffle you, from the collar of your jacket to the apple of your cheek. He ends up licking your face and it makes you giggle, leaning your face away and turning back to the giant animal.

“He was just scared, weren’t you, boy?” You ask in your best puppy voice. “The world has been cruel to you, and you learned to bite first.” You whisper as you notice how cold the dog was, how there was no collar around his neck, and the long scar across his right eye. Not to mention the fact that his ears and tail were cropped. “But all you need is a little love, isn’t that right? A little kindness and it all melts away.”

The dog’s nose nuzzles against your chest again and you almost melt from the inside out. You keep gently petting him as you turn back to Dean, who was now looking down at you with dark, unreadable eyes. It leaves you breathless for a moment, and you don’t know what even prompted that reaction.

You open your mouth to say… honestly, you don't even know what you were going to say, but thankfully Sam, who looks like all the exhaustion has also banished from his body and is now smirking, walks past you and opens the door to the motel room.

You quickly get up from the floor, the doberman following your lead. You walk up to the door, both Dean and the dog behind you.

“Come on in, boy.” You point towards the inside of the room when the dog– you would give him a name, but then you’d get too attached– stopped right before walking into the room.

“No way.” Dean interjects, arms crossed, and frowning.

“Dean, it is freezing out here. We can’t let him sleep outside.”

“I refuse to sleep with dog smell all over the room.” He insisted, and was that a pout?

“I’m team ‘he stays’” Sam announces, still grinning, before making his way into the bathroom.

You cross your arms too, turning to look at Dean with a challenging look on your face.

“That’s two against one. And if I have to choose between you and the doggy, then good luck sleeping in the Impala.”

You hold Dean’s eyes for a long moment, not faltering for a second. He looks at you in disbelief before he seems to notice that there’s no arguing with you in this one. You were incredibly stubborn sometimes, like when you refused to leave the cemetery that first night you met.

But that was the reason why you were here right now, so maybe you were right about the dog. He would never admit it, though.

He simply sighs in defeat, shoulders dropping, and a pleased grin quickly takes over your face. You do a little jump, and Dean once again feels impressed by how well you move in those high boots.

“Yes!” You giggle with that sweet smile on your face, your lipstick faded from the long day out but still somehow that smooth wine color that made Dean weak in the knees. “Now come in, pretty boy.”

The dog, who had just been looking up at you during the conversation, seems to finally be convinced to walk inside the motel room. He still turns around to check that you’re walking inside too, sitting right by your side as you take off your jacket and boots.

It was adorable.

It had been a few hours since you had gotten to the motel. Right now, Sam was doing some more research while Dean called up Bobby to see if he could find anything. You had walked to the nearby grocery store to buy some dog food and some plastic containers. You served the food and some water on them when you and the dog returned from the store, since he refused to leave your side.

You had to be honest, walking alone at night never felt safer with a huge black doberman walking alongside you. For just one second, you could live out your goth princess dreams.

Now, the pup was eating his food. The poor thing was probably starving out there in the street. You wonder who could have abandoned such a beautiful animal, and leave him to freeze on the street. The dog was friendly enough, sometimes sniffing at Sam’s shoes but hiding behind your legs when he tried to pet him. He was clearly still scared, and you feel a sense of pride fill your chest at the knowledge that the dog decided to trust you.

You change into your pajamas and lay on the bed, groaning as your tense muscles finally relax against the almost comfortable surface of the shitty mattress. You hear the sound of paws hitting the floor and you turn your head to look down the edge of the bed, where the doberman was staring up at you with– there was no other way to describe it than puppy eyes.

You chuckle, and get more comfortable on the bed before patting the spot next to you once, and that was enough for the dog to jump.

“Oh, come on! I gotta sleep on that bed.” Dean complains, but you ignore it in order to laugh when instead of the big space next to you, the dog decides to climb on top of you, laying his head on your chest and making you groan at the weight on your stomach.

“Seriously, dude?” You ask the dog, who only licks your cheek once and seems to get even heavier.

You lay there on the bed, a giant puppy on top of you with no way of moving and no heart to push him away.

You hear Sam laugh and you try to look at the brothers past the big fur ball resting right in front of your face. You catch sight of the younger one’s smirk and Dean’s unimpressed face. He looked almost offended, and it was hilarious. You laugh, and it causes the doberman to tilt his head and look at you curiously. Your heart aches, and you remind yourself not to get attached.

You sigh, starting to pet the dog gently. You distantly hear Sam and Dean chat and bicker about something, but you focus on the puppy on your chest. You scratch behind his ears and boop his nose with yours, murmuring sweet nothings under your breath.

Humans were complicated. You had realized from a young age that not many people felt as much as you did, not everyone had so many emotions that they threatened to spill out every time they opened their mouth. Your heart was too big for your body, your mother used to say when you were a kid. But she didn’t say it as a good thing, because it made you too vulnerable, too weak, too much like her. So when you were confronted with the cruelty of this world, when you discovered how awful people could be, you learned to keep that part of yourself hidden, locked away in a little box on your chest that only opened up when you were writing poetry or when it was time for your monthly crying session.

Or when you were in the presence of animals. Animals were pure creatures, sweet and loving and unjudging. When you found a stray cat in a cemetery, or when you encountered some critter while foraging, or when little moths landed next to you in the abandoned house you used to spend your time in, that little box opened up and you let all the words stuck in the back of your throat come out. Because animals were the only creatures that deserved them. Or that’s what you thought, until some green-eyed hunter, who at first looked at you with the same seemingly angry but actually scared eyes as the doberman had, had made his way into your heart and was now threatening to break the lock that kept the box closed.

You brush your thumb over the long scar across the dog’s eye. It is healed, but it also looks recent.

“You’re so beautiful.” You murmur to the pup, giggling when he pushes his head up into your hand for more ear scratches.

“Aw, thank you.” Dean places a hand on his chest, as if he was actually touched by the compliment. He was now standing on the side of the bed, looking down at you with a teasing grin. But there was something in his eyes, an edge that you couldn’t recognize. “I knew you wouldn’t resist my charms.”

You laugh at that, shaking your head. Noticing that your attention wasn’t on him anymore, the doberman turns his head towards Dean, and he snarls again.

“Hey, nuh-uh.” You scold the pup firmly, tapping his snout softly twice. It stops the snarling, but the dog is still baring his teeth. “Dean is a friend, okay? He is amiable, even if he doesn’t look like it.” You can’t help but tease Dean, making him roll his eyes.

The doberman’s eyes stay wearily on Dean, but he doesn’t make a move to attack. You try to sit up on the bed, but the dog seems to somehow push you down into the mattress. You laugh, accepting your fate and extending your hand towards Dean instead.

“Give me your hand.” Dean looks at you with wide eyes for a second, but then he places his hand on yours. You ignore the feeling of his rough skin on yours, how warm he is in comparison with how cold you always are, how his silver ring feels against your palm, how much you wanted to intertwine your fingers with his.

Instead, you move both your hands closer to the dog’s nose, slowly.

“If the mutt bites me, I’m gonna kill you.” Dean warns, but he sounds a little out of breath.

The pup lets out a low growl, and you move your other hand to scratch behind his ear.

“It’s okay, I promise. He’s a friend.” Your reassuring tone seems to calm him down a bit, and he slowly leans in to sniff at your joined hands. You slowly move your hand until it is holding Dean’s wrist instead of his palm, letting the dog smell only Dean. He apparently deems the human acceptable, because he stops baring his teeth and leans the tiniest bit forward. You guide Dean’s hand to the top of the doberman’s head, letting it rest there softly for the hunter to pet him. “See, puppy?” you whisper towards the dog, but your eyes move up to meet Dean’s. “He may be a little rough around the edges, but he’s actually harmless.”

That makes Dean snort, eyes darting down to the dog still laying on your chest while he scratches his head, and you think his cheeks flush a little.

“There are several creatures, both human and non-human, that might disagree with that.” He jokes, but his voice is softer and low. It is your time to snort.

“Well, I was never known for agreeing with the general public.” Dean meets your eyes again, and something passes in between you two. Your breath hitches at the rawness in his gaze, and then your fingers bump where you were both petting the dog. “I always had a soft spot for what others consider scary.”

A long moment of silence, your fingers brush against his again, Dean opens his mouth.

And then the doberman is licking your cheek and almost all the way up to your forehead. You let out a surprised shriek and you turn your face further to the side, laughing and trying to get away from the dog’s wet kisses.

“Hey! Stop, boy. Sto– ah!” You are trying to push the pup off of you, but there is no way of pushing him away. You try to turn his face away with your hand but instead he gives you a little bite.

It is playful, a barely-there nip with his front teeth. You look at him with an offended look in your eyes, and you can almost swear the pup is grinning. Dean starts laughing at the scene, and you pout, turning to Sam for help. The younger Winchester is useless, simply giving you a shrug and going back to his research. You stare at the ceiling and start to question your life choices.

“How did I end up trapped in a motel room with three insufferable boys?”

Dean ends up not letting the dog sleep in the bed. You somehow manage to move him from on top of you and lay down a couple of blankets and some of your clothes on the floor next to the bed for the pup to sleep in.

It was late into the night already, and you were half asleep already, lulled by Dean’s warmth. Because you gave one of the blankets to the doberman, now Dean and you had to share the other one. He complains about it for like an hour, and you had to admit the night was cold enough for one blanket to not be enough. But once you threaten him with letting the dog on the bed and sending him to the floor, Dean accepts sharing the blanket.

It turned out to be as much of a bad idea as it was a good one. Not only did it force you to be even closer to each other to fit in, but it also gave place for a lot more physical contact. Now when your knee brushes his thigh, it is skin on skin instead of over the covers, when his fingers brush your lower back, it is right where your Type O Negative shirt has lifted up. It was a magical kind of torture.

At some point when you are more asleep than awake, you feel a new weight on the mattress. You are too tired to even register what it is or what it could mean. You just scoot to the side, giving the creature more space and pressing closer to the figure next to you. You would think that by this point, your hunter’s instincts would be more developed, but you weren’t very smart when you were sleepy.

You quickly fall back into unconsciousness completely when the heat radiating from both your sides now envelopes you. You were cold almost all the time. Even in the summer, somehow your hands managed to find a way to stay icy. On low temperature nights like this, it was worse. You didn’t mind it, you enjoyed the cold, but the boys constantly complained when you touched them with your freezing hands. But right now, with two extra-hot bodies pressed against either side of you, you sleep through the night like you haven't in years.

The next time you wake up, it takes you a few seconds to understand where you are. The bed feels smaller than it did when you went to sleep, and there is a new weight on your waist. It isn’t until you hear two different snores that you finally open your eyes, confused. In front of you, curled up in the little nook created by your torso and bended knees, is the doberman sleeping peacefully. He somehow got into the bed at some point in the night, you register, and now he is taking up half of the bed. One of the snores is coming from him, but the other one comes from behind you, as well as the pressure on your middle.

A little panicked, you turn your head around slowly. As you feared, Dean has an arm around you, his chest pressed against your back. He too was fast asleep, mouth slightly open and his grip on you firm. You turn to look at the other bed, but you find it empty. Sam had probably gone out for his morning run, and you let yourself panic for a second.

The little grunt that Dean lets out when you try to move and the way his arm tightens on your waist make you feel a little dizzy. You slowly, very slowly, slide down the bed. It is a miracle that Dean doesn't wake up, he must be really exhausted for his instincts not to alert him of the movement. The puppy also stays asleep, and you quietly scurry to the bathroom. You wash your face with cold water when you notice how flushed your cheeks are. You aren’t a high schooler, you can handle a little cuddling with a close friend.

But Dean was more than that, wasn’t him?

You brush your teeth, cursing yourself for forgetting to bring a clean set of clothes so you could shower. You mentally prepare to walk outside for them, repeating to yourself that Dean was asleep the whole time, he probably didn’t even notice what happened. It was fine, you were fine.

(It had been years since someone had held you like that, it wasn’t fine.)

You step out of the bathroom in the hope that Dean would still be asleep, but you’re not that lucky. Instead, you are met with two sleepy boys staring at you from the bed. Both the doberman and Dean were now sitting on the mattress, Dean with messy hair and half-lidded eyes, the dog with a strikingly similar drowsy demeanor. They turn to you when they hear the sound of the bathroom door opening, and at the exact same time, they tilt their heads to the side in confusion.

You stand there, staring at the big bad dog and big bad hunter in front of you, who are now soft and sleepy and pouty (at least Dean was) while they stare back with questioning looks. Almost as if wondering why’d you leave the bed, but that was probably wishful thinking. Like this, the resemblance between them was uncanny.

“Good morning?” You ask tentatively when Dean doesn’t say anything.

The pup seems to finally snap out of it at the sound of your voice, and he jumps off the bed to say hi to you. He wags his tail and presses his head to your hand until you give him a good deal of head scratches before he is moving to where the food and water bowls are on the floor.

You turn to Dean after that, and he looks a little more awake at least. His eyes are squinting and his eyebrows are furrowed, as if he is trying to remember something.

“Did the dog sleep with us in the bed?” You ignore the way his voice was even deeper after waking up.

You giggle, nodding. “Yeah, he got up at some point in the night. I don’t know how we managed to all fit.”

Dean chuckles at that while he rubs a hand over his face, and you beg that he doesn’t remember anything else.

“Did he sleep next to me? I swear I could feel something pressing against me through the night, but then I woke up and he was laying down pretty far away from me.”

That makes you freeze for a second, but you just shake your head nonchalantly.

“Nah, he slept right when you found him all night. Maybe it was a Succubus” You joke casually while you move to grab a clean set of clothes. You had never been happier to see Sam than when he walks into the motel room right at that moment. Your eyes meet for a second, and you take in his post-running state at the same time he notices the clothes and the toiletry bag in your arms before the two of you both rush towards the bathroom.

“Not fair! I am all gross and sweaty.” Sam complains when you get there first.

You giggle, closing and locking the door behind you without saying anything.

“I could swear I was hugging something.”

You had finally solved the case two days later. As it turned out, the creature that was kidnapping people in town was a skinwalker. The reason why you hadn’t figured it out yet is because this one, instead of feeding on people’s hearts and leaving the bodies there for you to find, was actually dragging people from their homes and “storing” them in some abandoned house outside of town. You are able to discover all of this because your new friend, as you discovered that same day, was actually the pet of one of the people kidnapped. The scar over his eye had been made by the skinwalker the night it attacked his owner, and the puppy was able to track the scent of it once Sam, Dean, and you had found some fur in the house of one of the victims.

Once you entered the abandoned house, you had found most of the victims still alive, all tied up in chains and waiting to have their hearts eaten out. Apparently, as the skinwalker told you and the brothers in his best attempt at a villain monologue, he had been exiled from his pack and forced to become an outcast. Having lived all his life in a pack, he could barely fend for himself alone. He had gone hungry, almost starving to death. That was why now, in an almost feral state, he was making sure to have enough food stashed.

As weird as this was, it was good news. You were able to kill the skinwalker and free all of the survivors. It was always nice when you were able to save more people than you had expected. In between the freed people there was the doberman’s owner– some guy in his forties with long, wavy black hair and a whole tattoo sleeve. Yeah, it fits. You watch as the guy and the dog meet again, how it was so clear that they loved each other, and even if you’re happy for them, you can’t help the way your heart aches at the knowledge that you would have to say goodbye to the pup.

The doberman runs towards you after he finishes saying hello to his owner, and Sam quickly explains to the guy the dog’s stay with you while you kneel in front of the doberman and whisper your farewell. The puppy licks your cheek again and it almost makes your eyes water. The owner thanks you for taking care of Billie Joe –of course the dude named the dog after Green Day– and they both leave.

You stare at their figures as they walk away in silence for a moment, not being able to help the pout that forms in your face. Sam goes to talk with some more of the surviving victims, while Dean stays by your side.

“You know, maybe dogs aren’t that bad. Even if that one could barely stand me.”

You chuckle softly, It’s subtle –Dean wouldn’t make it obvious– but you know he’s trying to lift your spirits. You shake your head, turning to look into his eyes.

It always shocked you how beautiful Dean could look even after a hunt, when he was covered in dirt and all bloody.

Then again, you always had a thing for hot guys covered in blood.

“I think you two were just too much alike.” You tease, bumping his shoulder with yours.

He laughs, but it’s softer than usual– quieter, less guarded. His usual edge is missing, replaced by something warmer, more open.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, looking at the ground before his gaze returns to you, taking in the way your smudged eyeliner made your eyes pop out, the way your black hair looked almost blue under the street lights, how gentle your smile was even with your sharp teeth and spiky jewelry. “You seemed to like him, though. A lot.”

A long silence follows the comment as you two stare at each other. The tension, simmering under the surface for weeks now, threatens to boil over. The memory of Dean’s arm around you while sleeping comes back to your mind, and you decide that if there was anyone you could trust with the key to the box in your chest, it was him.

“Yeah, I did.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper. “I never could resist a good train wreck.”

The next thing you register is the feeling of Dean’s lips over yours, and for a moment you wonder if this is why poets write. Because the sensations that travel all through your body as you wrap your arms around Dean’s neck and his hands wrap around your waist, the taste of his tongue, and the smell that clings to him are all so otherworldly and hauntingly magical that you feel compelled to delve into the entire English language to find the perfect words to describe it, but you just know that nothing will ever be able to convey what it was like to be held in Dean Winchester’s arms.

“Does this mean I can convince you of adopting a dog now?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What about a cat?”

“No. And there is no amount of kissing that can change my mind.”

“What about a raven? Or a spider!”

“God, what did I get myself into.”

NOTES: I am not completely satisfied with this so I might revisit it some day. Still, I hope you enjoyed it.

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera<3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

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dovesdreaming · 1 year ago

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PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU FOR ETHAN MORGAN X VAMP!READER FICS THERE ARE LITERALLY NO ETHAN FICS I HAVEN'T READ I WILL GIVE YOU MY LIFE AND SOUL 🙏🙏🙏 -🩻

Teeth marks

My first emoji anon hiii!! Thank you so much for your request!! I loved writing this and I’m sorry for the wait. This also isn’t as long as I wanted it to be so when I get time I will write more headcanons for this dynamic!! <3

not proofread sorry

Warnings: none

You had recently been turned into a vampire. While it had its perks it did mean that you were now immortal and it all felt a little daunting, especially when you had to keep everything a secret.

Everything had been going fine, you had been managing to hunt at night so no one saw you and it had been working. Key word being had. This was because tonight while you were hunting small animals you were found by the one and only Rory. You wouldn’t say you were friends, you had only spoken a few times in class to swap answers but now he had seen you sucking the blood from the neck of a squirrel. That was irreparable damage to any future friendship aspects. Or so you thought. You had thought many things, your thoughts racing as he might tell the whole town and you would have to flee but all he did was grin. He got super excited and started rambling about how cool this was. You missed the majority of what he was saying from the shock of his reaction and when you finally tuned back into what he was saying you heard “you’re a vampire too!”. You finally dropped the squirrel and stood up, slowly walking towards him. “You mean you’re a vampire aswell?” You asked Rory with a very confused look. “Of course, Erica and Sarah are too”. You couldn’t believe there were more, you had been suffering this whole time with so many people like you close by.

After your encounter Rory introduced you to the rest of the friend group and they immediately accepted you. Benny and Ethan being the only non vampires of the group were slightly cautious as they didn’t know your tolerance for the smell of blood yet. They quickly warmed up to you though when they saw you could handle yourself better than Rory and Erica.

You took a special liking to Ethan, you found it cute how he got slightly nervous around you. Stumbling over his words slightly. You loved to tease him to make it worse. You did however also befriend him and become close to him. He understood some of your worries about being a vampire (hearing the same worries from Sarah and the others) and he listened to al your other concerns. You were each others confidants. You grew closer until the point where your feelings for each other were undeniable to even yourselves. Ethan would take a while to admit his feelings so you probably ended up beating him to confessing them. Ethan doesn’t mind you being a vampire but he does worry for your safety even if you could handle yourself. He would hate to think of a future where you were still young and he was getting older, would probably consider turning into a vampire for you. Whether he went through with it though is another thing.

Headcanons:

-He completely trusts you around him and doesn’t feel threatened even if you have your teeth out around him. He also feels bad that you’re stuck with someone with such irresistible blood to a vampire.

-he only gets nervous around your teeth if you bring them out while play fighting or cuddling. He doesn’t feel threatened he’s just scared of the power they hold.

-would try his best to help you with any of your cravings, may even offer some of his blood but you would always refuse.

-would be so caring towards you and would always stick up for you in any situation. Especially if you were fighting the weekly problem and they went after you.

-would try and find a spell in bennys book or some cure for you as he knew it troubled you at times. Would never pressure you into anything like that though

-he always felt protected when you were by his side and he hoped you could feel the same when he was close by even if he didn’t hold half the power you did

-would ask advice about vampire stuff from Sarah and would listen to everything she said

-would be in complete awe of you at all times.

-he found you so hot when you used your powers against any supernatural being

-would research and look through ALL the pages of google on vampires to just find everything out about you

-he would trace his fingers gently over the teeth marks on your neck. Occasionally softly kissing them.

-would never judge you in any shape or form

-would just genuinely love you and wouldn’t care that your slightly different from the average person. Would face any challenges along the way with you and stay by your side.

Thank you for reading!!

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #disney #mbav #my babysitters a vampire x reader #my babysitters a vampire headcanons #my babysitters a vampire #ethan morgan headcanons #ethan morgan x reader #ethan morgan #mbav x reader #disney x reader #disney channel

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justladders · 6 months ago

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Line your Springtraps up from your fav to your least fav, go!

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww it's always so hard for me to pick "my favorites" of things. I mean, I can point out stuff I like, but I can never say that "I like one favorite over another."

I guess if I had to choose, then at the very least I think ERRORtrap would be #1? He's easy to draw if needed, he's based in the actual fnaf games [princess quest Glitchtrap], he can be uncontrollable shadow monster or cunning villain or pathetic man, and one of my favorite things is just making him into literally anything. Just color swapping stuff to black and purple, giving it some combination of ears, spikes, and a bowtie, and calling it an ERROR variant.

Oh yeah and I also like joking every time I get an error message on my electronics that he's doing it to annoy me. Like, my computer blue screened for the first time in two years while I was trying to type this. I swear, it can get way too coincidental with the timing. Sometimes I wonder...

Other than that I kind of find it too difficult to list them in order of favs? I kind of want to turn it back around and ask if anyone else has favorites/ordered favorites of the sillies, bc now I'm curious. There's ERORR, Jacko, Moth, Vamp, Beast, and Smol if anyone wants to :)c

#justtalks #wolfasketch ask #answered ask #alt springtrap #errortrap #jackotrap #mothtrap #vamptrap #beasttrap #smoltrap #midnight magma things

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unintentionalseductress · 11 months ago

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🎃DM/inbox to join! Collab deets can be found here!

🎃Status: closed

🎃Deadline: October 31st, 2024

👻 Fic List :

Jujutsu Kaisen

1. @younmexreaders -A Kind, Warm Heart A hike through the mountains takes a terrible turn when you encounter a monster looking for a snack. You are saved, however, by an intensely serious naga. You decide to thank Nanami (Nagami?) for saving you. Pairing: Naga Nanami x reader -Just Keep Quiet You're enjoying yourself on Halloween at a nice bar when you're suddenly approached by an odd man who no one else can see. As long as you keep quiet, you can enjoy a nice, kinky night with this… ghost? Pairing: Mahito x Chubby fem reader 2. @simplygojo -The Witch's Surrender When reader finds herself in a stalemate during a showdown with Gojo, their competetive streak results in some sexy happenings. Pairing: Gojo x Witch! Reader 3. @anonimusunnoaniswriting - Neptune A creature of the deep pulls you under, and inexplicably, you're drawn to him, belonging to him in ways that you don't quite understand. merman! Geto x fem reader 4. @heian-era-housewife -You Can Be The Beauty And I Can Be The Monster Things get a little monstrous when you end up swapping bodies with the very curse you were sent to destroy. Pairing: True form curse monster sukuna X fem reader 5. @lazyjellyfish300 -By The Moon The story of you, the daughter of a village baker and how you came to fall for the mysterious Atsuya Kusakabe who harbors a dark secret that plagues him every full moon. One problem: you're betrothed to Naoya Zenin who you do not love. Pairing: Werewolf! Kusakabe x Fem reader 6. @sassypossum Lingering In Perdition You are a newly fledged Dhampir, trying to navigate the lifestyle of a monster. Thank God you have a pair of beastly lovers to help you through it all. Pairing: Incubus!Gojo x Dhampir!Reader x Incubus!Geto

Love and Deepspace

1. @jasminumdew -Rafayel (mermaid x siren reader) You went out hunting to feed your sick merman lover, but he doesn’t seem to be hungry, at least not in that way. -Sylus (werewolf) Being in a relationship with a werewolf comes with indulging in his instinct to hunt, and you’re more than happy to be his prey. Ready? Run! -Zayne (x kitten hybrid reader) Being in heat isn't so bad when Dr. Zayne is there to help you through it. -Xavier (hare hybrid x bunny reader) A little discipline from Xavier when you misbehave and cum without permission. 2. @nixthisis - DRESSUP A Halloween party is the perfect disguise for your two vampire lovers to come out and play. Pairing: vampire! zayne x fem! reader with a side of vampire! sylus 3. @dissociation-station123 - Fallen He said he'd make him fall. Who could resist the temptation of you after all? Pairing: Demon(Sylus) X Reader X Zayne (Angel to fallen Angel)

Bleach

1. @seireiteihellbutterfly - The Dragon's Mate You're swept away into the watery depths of a dragon's abode. Who would have thought that this would be your eternal mate? Pairing: water dragon! Ukitake x fem! reader

My Hero Academia

1. @rahuratna - Epimetheus When a fugitive arrives at The Jaws, the home of your clan, deep in the mountains, you nurse him back to health. As his true nature is slowly revealed, it brings change to your life that is beyond your wildest imaginings. Pairing: Gigantomachia as a titan x giant! reader 2. @actuallysaiyan - Video Vamps Hizashi and Shouta invite you over to show you a scary video game they found, but really it's just to get you to consent to their own little mind game. Pairing: Vampire!Hizashi Yamada & Vampire!Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader -And Keep The Beast At Bay You keep trying to get rid of that damn nightmare, but it turns out it's not a nightmare at all. Pairing: Demon/Incubus with All Smite/Villain!All Might

dividers by @cafekitsune Collab banner by @actuallysaiyan

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iwtv-theories · 2 months ago

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“Real- Rashid” isn’t who we think he is : how the show may adapt , ‘Tale of the body thief ‘(theory/ analysis) :

So we all know, canonically Rashid is a talamasca agent who was undercover as a servant for Armand & Louis.But, in ‘the tale of the body thief’: A vampire switches bodies with a human + the body thief takes possession of an unnamed British-Indian man (similar to Rashid’s actor who is British-Punjabi). So although different from the novels. I believe there’s already been a body switch that’s happened offscreen (and a vampire is in agent Rashid’s human body). It’d be ironic , cause he’s LITERALLY NOT “REAL-RASHID”!!!! Plus, there’s the fact that “Rashid” is probably just an alias he chose while undercover . Daniel to a talamasca agent: “got a real name ?” So if Rashid is just an alias… which vampire is “Rashid”?? It’s going to sound crazy . So please- please let me cook .

Rashid is Marius (secretly watching over Armand via taking over a talamasca agent’s body) !!!!

Don’t forget during the fall of Rome, Marius was initially friendly with a child-vamp named Rashid ! Given, Marius questionable track record with young boys- I could totally see him pick a name of one he fancied (as an alias). Side eye. Daniel: “How many Rashids, Rashid?”

If he’s Marius I’m convinced when Daniel said this next statement he was initially sweating bullets wondering if there was some innuendo in his statement…

Daniel : “You know, REAL RASHID. I’m pretty good at my job. And if they’ve got something to HIDE (pans to Rashid in front of the Marius painting). They always start with some sort of disguise. Not literally, not some dumb Halloween costume (gloves, contacts lenses). He wanted to be close to it , right, REAL RASHID? I mean, hey, whatever it is they’re trying to HIDE (pans back to Rashid in front of the Marius painting). I’m probably not going to crack it.”Rashid side eyes the f out of Daniel (as his face obscures Marius’).

Also … not the first time , in the show, a poc stood in front of a painting of a white-guy (and ended up being the same person depicted in the painting)!!!

Daniel: “ looked up at the painting to see Teresa’s (Armand’s) dead husband (Marius) was actually Roberto (Rashid) ! “

And people say Raglan James (the body thief in the books) taking to Daniel about 'swapping bodies' is an on the nose reference. But it could be a misdirect since Daniel himself was skeptical of Raglan’s name . And this convo is interrupted by - ‘Agent Rashid’ (as sinister music plays as he re-enters the room)! It could be a hint he’s the actual body thief. And (in the books) the body thief has swapped bodies with a vamp before.

Or in the show, a powerful vampire (like Marius) is inside of ‘Rashid’, and is the actual entity that has the ability to swap bodies.

Honestly , the show may go a more realistic route and give that ability to a supernatural entity rather than a random human .

Also, in the books: Marius KILLED Rashid! So the show equivalent could be a (metaphorical)death - like marius taking over his body.

Plus, Marius going into/controlling people’s bodies without their consent also just feels like a metaphor for shit he’d pull. Not to mention , a weird plot line in the books was an old white guy taking possession over an “Anglo -indian” guy's body (this could be recontextualized in the show as a colonization metaphor ,especially given how white Marius previously treated the Indian-Arun).

Plus,If some random human ,in the books, has such strong telepathy that they can switch consciousness/bodies (why in the show , can't a super powerful ancient vampire with telepathy not be able to theoretically do the same thing too )???? He could be impersonating ‘Rashid’ while the talamasca is oblivious .

There’s also the fact that that in the books,David (who was the last person to permanently take over the body of the young unnamed Indian man) may not be in the show. And his long storyline probably will be split among several show characters . (we already see some of David’s attributes given to Daniel: a 70y vampire who becomes Lestat's confidant , comforts Louis about his grief for Claudia, and interviews and writes biographies about different vamps , and he even previously denied vampirism but admitted he secretly wanted it all along post-turning). And David (a white dude in a Indian man’s body) also has similarities to Marius: both are vampires into little boys/girls (yuck), and they both proclaim they “LOVE” Armand and fetishize his youthful appearance .

Other possible hints “Rashid” is Marius:

Louis describing Santiago (the vampire) as the camera focuses on Rashid: “ Santiago's failure to protect his coven. How quickly he ran (Rashid runs out) to save his own flesh , filled him with unworthiness.” Daniel interjects: “He brought a cloak” -another word for “disguise “ .

It's possible that in the show Marius did burn ,but similar to Santiago ‘ran to save his own flesh' from burning and left his 'coven' (aka Armand and all the boys at the palazzo ). Which similar to Santiago's coven that went up in flames - the palazzo was set ablaze and the boys were all forced to jump into a fire and be burned alive (while Armand was kidnapped ,tortured, and indoctrinated into a cult ). Marius may feel "unworthy " due to this "failure' , so can't actually face Armand. And just uses a "cloak"(disguise) to do so. Daniel also says " He brought a cloak to a knife fight'. If you use 'cloak ' as a verb. Cloak can also mean 'to cover with ", and Rashid does 'cover the talamasca script with a newspaper' (leading to the loumand breakup). Agent Rashid was simply following talamasca orders , but ( if he’s Marius) he may have wanted Louis /Armand to fight/break up anyway . And he used multiple forms of cloaking to do so.

I know everyone thought Armand was the one who dropped the 'Stein' photos into the pile ( and it wouldn't surprise me if he did). But, what if he was actually telling the truth, and it was Rashid (Marius) trying to subtly sabotage the relationship? just like the finale where he slips some papers to Daniel- that cause the 2 to break up. Marius canonically sabotages most of Armand's relationships (even when they're not together). And it was Rashid who was in charge of organizing the photo-archives from the 1940s, after all. Rashid enters the room with photos and Daniel even says : “what weirdness have you brought to us tonight , real Rashid?”

There's also just other things Rashid does that I feel like could be evidence he's Marius.

We have the fact Marius used to say bs to Amadeo like 'I'm your slave.' NOPE, that's NOT TRUE! You bought Amadeo ; he was LITERALLY YOUR SLAVE (who you whipped bloody, groomed, and donated to others) ! But , I could see Marius (later revealing his identity to Armand) saying all this time he tried to do “penance”: by living as a human who resembled Amadeo and "serving" him. But, what he did to Amadeo is still 1000x worse than vampire-Armand paying a 'human' to be his butler. It's not the same thing!!! But A+ for creativity, I guess...

It'd be so ironic if Daniel called out Armand for 'playing' the role of Rashid. When it might be Rashid (Marius) trying to play Amadeo/Armand. Also, both Rashid/Armand really give off a similar vibe: poised, quiet, formal speech, and hard to read.

(fake) Lestat describes raising Claudia (cough similar to how Marius raised Armand). And for no narrative reason, (totally real) Rashid interrupts . And he is also placed right in front of the painting called 'slave auction' (1982).

And the meaning of the artwork does seem to describe a lot of Armand's experiences: "adults and children being shipped away on a boat to a foreign land to be slaves for the rest of their lives.The painting also features a tall black figure that represents the power responsible for taking slaves and selling them." hmmm.

Another detail is. Armand considers vampirism a curse and (in TVA) Marius debated with him that humans are just as evil as vampires. Which is a similar sentiment to what Rashid debates to Daniel, when defending Armand . Armand looks annoyed - and says Rashid can leave. And Armand states , Rahid gave a "romantic answer" (could be some hidden symbolism there).

Again if Rashid's just a talamasca agent (he still seems to focus more on observing/serving Armand). To be fair, he is stronger/older than Louis so he may just get more focus from the organization. In qotd graphic novel: David talbot (who was in the talamasca) pointed at a painting Marius made of Amadeo and said to watch him . Talamasca already planted Sam to spy on Armand's coven, back in Paris. And they have been literally spying on him since he was a human with marius. But , yeah if Rashid was Marius (the actual reason for being more interested in Armand is for a different reason)...

Also , you know the people in the writers room would be laughing their asses off at the idea of somehow pulling off the same twist twice. “So, what if the human Rashid was later revealed to be a super important ancient vampire from the book series ...again!" 🤣

I’m also super aware this is just a crazy crack theory. But in the very very small chance I’m right- I want bragging rights for predicting it :P. The more rational explanation could be Rashid was just undercover in the talamasca and worried his cover could be blown: so got nervous with molloy’s 'disguise' and “real-Rashid’ comments. And he simply acted like a kiss-ass about the ethics of vampires (to keep his cover). Sam (a talmasca agent) was also roasted by the coven for being a kiss-up to Armand. Then Rashid just “ran to save his own skin “ cause the talamasca warned him to get out , just like they warned molloy and Sam. The Talamasca is also technically founded by elder vampires- so who knows maybe he’s technically working for Marius who has power in the organization (aka why he’s in front of the Marius associated paintings ). And sadly like the novels, due to Raglan James- “Rashid” may get his body stolen by David talbot . Booo (if he's innocent , I don't want that)! Plus, I really don’t see the point of having David in the series- they could give a lot of his plots to other characters instead.

But, I'm still just so suspicious… I feel like there’s ALREADY more to Rashid than meets the eye (and he may have more importance in the future) . “It’s just Rashid.” Suuuuure buddy you’re just Rashid … I totally believe that.

Bally James (real-Rashid) also won an Ian Charleson award for best stage performer under 30y. And he’s known Assad Zaman (Armand) for like 7 years . So not giving his character more substantial scenes to work with (whether with Armand or others) seems like a waste. He’s apparently going to be in s3 so I’m curious what his role may be .

#real rashid #armand #marius de romanus #daniel molloy #louis de pointe du lac

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