#yeah... looking at this year's list and it's just like.

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

#dom male reader #top male reader #male reader #vampire x reader #vampire x male reader #monster x reader #monster x male reader #vampire x human #vampire imagine #wrioluvr: kliff

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Salvation | Devil's Trap | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7124

A/N: Whoop whoop! The end of season one!!! Thank y'all so much for reading and sticking with me. I've already been working on season two... ;)

Series Rewrite Masterlist

John had taped countless papers, newspaper clippings, scribblings, and charts of his research on the motel room’s walls. He sat at his paper-strewn desk with the Colt lying on it in front of him. “So this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we been searching for this demon right? Not a trace, just, nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time I picked up a trail.”

“And that's when you took off,” Dean said.

John nodded. “Yeah. That's right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation.”

“Alright, so what’s this trail you found?” his elder son asked.

“It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.”

“Families with infants?” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday.”

“I was six months old that night?” the younger brother asked, eyes puppy-dog-like.

You looked at Sam sadly. You knew he still blamed himself, and it broke your heart. John nodded again. “Exactly six months.”

“So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death… Jessica. It's all because of me?” his eyebrows turned upward even more.

“We don’t know that, Sam,” Dean argued gruffly.

“Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean,” the brunet threw back.

Dean shook his head frustratedly. “For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault.”

“Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem.”

“No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!” Dean yelled back.

“Boys, enough!” you commanded, standing.

All three men looked at you, surprised, but followed your directions and calmed down.

“So why's he doing it?” Sam asked after a moment. “What does he want?”

“Look I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save....” He looked down unhappily.

Dean sighed. “Alright, so how do we find it before it hits again?”

“There's signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked, and—”

“These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean said softly.

“A week before your mother died,” John replied, nodding. “And in Palo Alto, before Jessica. And these signs: they're starting again.”

“Where?” Sam asked.

“Salvation, Iowa.”

***

You and the brothers had been following John closely for hours as you sped toward Salvation, Iowa. Suddenly, John pulled his truck off the road. You shot a look at Dean, who pulled off behind his father.

“Goddammit!” John cried when he got out of his truck.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“I just got a call from Caleb.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Is he okay?”

“He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead.”

Sam was surprised. “Pastor Jim? How?”

“His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place,” John explained.

“A demon,” you said. “The demon?”

The older man shook his head. “I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close.”

“What do we do?” the older son questioned.

“Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week,” John barked.

“Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?” Sam challenged.

“We check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?”

You all shook your heads. John nodded at you and turned back to his truck. He slammed his hand on his trunk and hung his head low.

“Dad?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. It's Jim,” John replied, never turning to face you three. “You know, I can't— This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes.” He got back into his truck, and you and the boys followed suit. No one talked for the rest of the drive into Salvation.

***

You went with Dean as you normally had been doing on cases when you and the Winchesters split up. You headed to one of the two hospitals to search their birth records. 

Dean noticed a beautiful receptionist and walked over to her.

“Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him.

“Oh, God, yes,” he smiled breathlessly.

You cleared your throat. “We’re working right now, so…” You held up your fake badge to show her. “Can you get us the records of every birth in the last year?”

She nodded. “Of course.” She threw one last longing look to Dean before heading off.

“You wanna keep it professional, officer?” You quirked a brow at him.

***

Later that day, you and the other Winchesters were called to meet Sam back at the motel room. He’d had another vision where the same thing that happened to him happened to a baby he’d met in his search for the six month old that would be attacked.

“A vision,” John said flatly.

Sam was rubbing his temples painfully. “Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling.”

“And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…?” his father trailed off.

“Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam explained.

“It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake,” Dean continued, crossing to the counter behind Sam to get some more coffee.

“Yeah,” Sam winced, “It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” John snapped at his oldest son.

“We didn't know what it meant.” Dean looked down shamefully.

“Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me,” John stated sharply.

Dean threw his cup back on the counter, but you spoke before he could. “All due respect, dude, but Dean did call you.” John looked at you surprised as you continued. “He called you in Lawrence. Sam called when Dean was fucking dying. He’s got a better chance at winning the lottery than getting you on the phone.”

Dean put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this attitude of yours, you're right,” John told you. He turned to his sons. “I'm sorry.”

“Look, guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through,” Sam said calmly.

“No they're not. No one is, ever again.”

Sam’s phone rang. “Hello?... Who is this?” He shot up next. “Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window… Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop… My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is.” He then hesitated for a moment before handing the phone to John.

“This is John,” he said. “I'm here.” A few moments passed before he breathed out a name. “Caleb?”

Sam and Dean reacted immediately, and you recognized that as the name of John’s friend they’d been using as a resource when their dad was missing. “You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go… I don't know what you're talking about… Caleb. Caleb!... I'm gonna kill you, you know that?” His boys approached him, taking either side. “Okay… I said okay, I'll bring you the Colt.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there… That's impossible. I can't get there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.” Another moment passed before John handed Sam’s phone back to him. He began to pace around the room. He explained to you that Meg had instructed him to go to a warehouse in Lincoln with the Colt alone.

“So you think Meg is a demon?” Sam questioned.

“Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter,” his father answered.

“What do we do?” you asked.

“I'm going to Lincoln.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people will die; our friends die.”

“Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got; you can't just hand it over,” Sam protested.

“Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a coupla of vampires, no one's really seen the gun; no one knows what it looks like.”

“So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?” Dean questioned.

“Antique store.”

“You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?”

“Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference.”

“Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?” argued the older son.

“I just— I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.”

Sam shot back, “You mean, for Dean, (Y/N), and me. You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves?”

“No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home.” John’s voice broke. “I want… I want Mary alive. It's just— I just want this to be over.”

***

After you and the boys had handed off the fake gun to John, you headed to Monica’s house under the cover of night.

Dean and Sam sat with the gun between them, and the three of you watched through the window as Monica and her husband finished dinner.

“Maybe we could tell ‘em it was a gas leak. Might get ‘em out of the house for a few hours.”

“Sam, since when has that ever worked for us?” you countered.

“We could always tell ‘em the truth,” he suggested after a moment.

You and Dean just gave him a skeptical look. The three of you cringed and said, “Naaahhh,” in unison, making you giggle.

“I know I know. I just… with what's coming for these folks…” Sam trailed off.

 Dean shook his head at his brother. “Sam we only got one move and you know it, alright? We gotta wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them.”

You looked back at the house for a moment before Sam spoke again. “I wonder how Dad's doing.”

“I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up,” Dean admitted.

“I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.”

You continued watching the house in silence.

“This is weird,” Sam broke the silence again. “After all of these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real.”

“We just gotta keep our heads and do our job, like always,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, but this isn't like always.”

“True.”

“Dean, ah… I wanna thank you,” Sam began.

Dean turned to his brother. “For what?”

“For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And, uh, I don't know I just wanted to let you know, just in case—”

“Sam, stop it,” you said. “You are not dyin’ tonight. Nobody is.”

“Except that demon,” Dean continued. “That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?”

Sam nodded, tears in his eyes. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your head on his back. You continued watching the house from your position resting against Sam, who returned your gesture by holding your arm.

Dean then called his father. “Dad's not answering.”

“Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception’s bad,” you suggested.

“Yeah, well.” He didn’t sound convinced.

The radio suddenly started chattering with static.

“Guys, it’s coming.” You looked out at the light emanating from the home beginning to flicker.

The three of you sprang into action, grabbing the Colt and running into the house. Once inside, you were confronted by Monica’s husband.

“Get out of my house!” he yelled.

Dean fought against the man and pinned him against the wall with the baseball bat the man had been holding. “Be quiet and listen to me. Be quiet and listen! We are trying to help you.” He clearly had no patience.

A woman’s voice called from upstairs. “Charlie? Is everything okay?”

“Monica, get the baby!” the man yelled back.

“Don't go in the nursery!” you and Sam cried at the same time. You and Sam sprinted up the stairs after the woman and began to hear her moaning in pain. You raced into the nursery down the hall to find the woman flung back against the wall rising up to the ceiling. You saw a shadowy figure with glowing, yellow eyes standing over the baby’s crib.

“Rosie!” Monica screamed.

Sam raised the Colt and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, the demon disappeared into curls of smoke.

Monica screamed and fell to the floor.

“Where the hell did it go?!” Sam yelled.

“I don’t know!” you yelled back.

“My baby!” Monica tried to move toward the crib, but Sam caught her. She fought him as you wrapped the baby in her blanket and pulled her out of her crib. Milliseconds later, the crib burst into flames. You held the baby to your chest and followed Sam and Monica down the stairs and out of the house.

Just as you made it outside, the nursery window exploded outward in a fiery blaze. You ran over to Dean and Monica’s husband who had just regained consciousness. 

“You get away from my family,” the husband told you firmly.

“No, Charlie, don't. They saved us,” Monica said, running into her husband’s arms. You handed her baby over to her, and she began to cry. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a sad smile. You turned to the boys who looked up at the burning house. You could see a shadowy figure in the window surrounded by the flames.

Sam tried to go back inside, crying, “It's still in there!”

You and Dean pushed him back. “No!”

“Guys, let me go! It’s still in there!” He continued struggling against you.

“No. It's burning to the ground, it's suicide!” Dean replied.

“I don't care!” Sam yelled back.

Dean shoved his brother one final time. “I do!”

You looked back up at the house and watched the demon disappear. The flames rose higher as you heard Monica’s husband calling 911.

“We’d better get out of here before the cops show up,” you told Monica. “Take care of yourselves.”

“We will. Thank you!”

You shoved the boys back to the Impala and took Dean’s keys from him.

“(Y/N), you are not driving my car.”

“I’ve already done it, Dean, and you are way too emotional to drive right now. I’ve got this.”

“Fine!” He got in the passenger’s seat next to you. “But I swear to god if it gets one scratch—”

“I know, I’m dead.”

***

You and the Winchesters still hadn’t heard from their father.

“Come on Dad, answer your phone, damn it,” Dean grumbled as he paced around. “Something’s wrong.”

Sam stared at the wall; unresponsive to his brother.

“You hear me? Something is wrong.”

Sam’s voice broke as he talked. “If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.”

“Sam, you would’ve been killed,” you said.

“You don’t know that,” he argued.

Dean walked toward his brother. “So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

Sam stood. “Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I am.”

“Well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around,” Dean responded.

“What the hell are you talking about, Dean, we've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.”

“Sam, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over.”

The brunet scoffed. “What?”

“I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing,” Dean spat.

“That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom!” Sam yelled.

“You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.”

Sam completely lost it and threw Dean back against the wall.

“Sam, stop!” You ran to the boys and tried to pull Sam off. He shrugged your grip off him harshly. 

“Don't you say that, not you! Not after all this; don't you say that!” Sam yelled.

Dean’s voice quieted. “Sam, look. The three of us… Dad… That's all we have. And it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man… And without you or (Y/N) or Dad....”

“Dad,” Sam cried and turned away. He walked across the room.

Dean stayed where he was and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” you asked Dean quietly.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on his brother.

“He should have called by now. Try him again,” Sam instructed.

Dean pushed a few buttons and raised his phone to his ear. “Where is he,” Dean spoke angrily into the phone.

You looked up at Dean, concerned, as did Sam. 

“They’ve got Dad,” Dean informed you, snapping his phone shut.

“Meg?” you questioned.

Dean just nodded.

“What’d she say?”

“I just told you, sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay,” you ran a hand over your hair.

Dean grabbed the Colt and tucked it into his jeans.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean was already grabbing his duffel bag. “We got to go.”

“Why?”

“Because the demon knows we’re in Salvation, alright. It knows we got the Colt. It’s got Dad— it’s probably coming for us next.” Dean put his jacket back on.

“Good. We’ve still got three bullets left. Let it come.”

“No, Sam, I’m with Dean. We’re not ready,” you said, shouldering your own bag. “We don’t know how many of them are out there, and we’re no good to anybody dead. Let’s go. And we need help.”

Dean looked at you and agreed. “I know a guy.”

***

“Bobby?” you asked. You hadn’t realized he was the man Dean was referring to knowing could help. 

“(Y/N),” the man breathed out. He wrapped you in a tight hug. “How the hell are you, kiddo?”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. “I’m okay. Listen, we’re in a tight spot. I know Dean told you a bit, but…”

“Come on in,” he said. He checked behind you and the boys to make sure you weren’t followed.

“How do you know Bobby?” Dean asked, walking around the man’s cluttered home. Books were stacked high in every corner, and empty beer bottles covered his kitchen table. 

‘Would it kill you to clean every once in a while?’ you thought.

“He found me when I was nineteen and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere,” you explained. “Saved my life and took me in, essentially. And then, uh, I split. My stupid twenty-year-old self couldn’t admit that being alone sucked. I didn’t want anyone to think I needed help. We got in a huge fight, and I left.” You turned to Bobby. “I’m sorry, by the way. I never told you that.”

“It’s okay, kid,” the man drawled. He handed Dean a round silver flask with a cross on it. “Here you go.”

“What is this, holy water?” 

Bobby said, “That one is.” He held out the other flask he was holding. “This is whiskey.” 

You giggled while Bobby and Dean took swigs of the drink.

Dean handed the flask back to him. “Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.”

“Nonsense. Your Daddy needs help.”

“Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything,” the man chuckled.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people.”

“Amen,” you commented.

Dean shot you a look.

“What?” you replied.

He just rolled his eyes.

“None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back,” Bobby shrugged.

Sam dragged his fingers along the worn pages of the book he was reading. “Bobby, this book: I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He sat on the edge of the desk across from Sam. “Key of Solomon? It’s the real deal, alright.”

“And these protective circles. They really work?” He gestured down to the intricate drawing covering the worn page.

“Hell, yeah. You get a demon in; they’re trapped. Powerless. It’s like a Satanic roach motel.” Bobby tapped the center of the page. 

You laughed. You loved his sense of humor. You wished your dad had been more like him, and you wished you hadn’t spent so much time as a teenager trying to go it alone.

“I’ll tell you something else, too. This is some serious crap you kids stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” you asked.

“Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops. This year I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I’m saying? More and more demons are walking among us; a lot more.” Bobby sounded scared for the first time since you met him. 

“Damn,” you commented. “Do you know why?”

“No, but I know it’s something big. The storm’s coming, and you kids, your Daddy— you are smack in the middle of it.”

Bobby’s dog began barking outside.

“Rumsfeld,” Bobby muttered.

The dog stopped barking with a sad whine. You looked out the window to see the chain the dog was tethered to broken and the dog himself nowhere in sight. 

“Something’s wrong,” the older man said.

At that moment, Meg kicked the door open and sauntered in. Dean slipped the holy water flask out of his pocket, and you grabbed a knife out of your jacket.

“No more crap, okay?” Meg sang.

Dean tried to go after her, but Meg sent him flying into a stack of books in the corner of the room.

“Hey!” you yelled, trying to take a swing at her. She sent you flying back into Dean. You groaned in pain as you heard Meg continuing to go after Sam for the Colt.

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded. “C’mon.” You stood shakily and used the wall for support; Dean just behind you.

“First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then, he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” you heard Meg telling Sam and Bobby in the other room.

You stepped into the door frame. “Actually, we were counting on it.” You smirked and looked up at the ceiling that had a Devil’s Trap etched into it. 

Dean spat, “Gotcha.”

You set to work tying Meg to a chair in the middle of the floor. She fought you hard, but there wasn’t much she could do given her limited space to move.

“Bitch,” she spat at you.

“Yeah, ditto,” you responded dryly. You stepped back from her.

“You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask,” she said sultrily.

Bobby came up next to you with a large canister of salt. “I salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain’t getting in.”

Dean nodded and stood, moving around you to stand in front of Meg. “Where’s our father, Meg?”

“You didn’t ask very nice.”

“Where’s our father, bitch?”

You hated to admit it, but Dean’s interrogation was turning you on.

“Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t,” Meg smirked.

Dean lunged at her and put his hands on the chair arms. “You think this is a fucking game? Where is he?! What did you do to him?”

“He died screaming. I killed him myself!” she growled through gritted teeth.

Dean froze before slapping her across the face.

“That’s kind of a turn on; you hitting a girl,” she smiled.

‘Well, she’s not wrong,’ you thought.

“You’re no girl,” he said.

Bobby stood and moved to the older Winchester. “Dean.”

He turned away from Meg.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“She’s lying. He’s not dead,” he grumbled.

“Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don’t hurt her,” Bobby warned.

“Why?”

“Because she really is a girl; that’s why,” he explained.

You looked back at Meg and her labored breathing. Bobby explained that Meg had been possessed. Dean was furious at the idea of an innocent person being trapped inside her, and you loved that about him. You and the brothers immediately began an exorcism ritual.

“Are you gonna read me a story?” she quipped at the sight of the Book of Solomon Sam was holding.

Dean stepped in front of her. “Something like that. Hit it, Sam.”

Sam began reading the ritual off the pages of the book.

“An exorcism? Are you serious?”

“Oh we’re going for it, baby—” You’d never liked that nickname, but you loved how it sounded coming from Dean; just not directed at Meg. “—head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards.”

Meg flinched at the Latin words coming from Sam’s lips. “I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna rip the bones from your body.”

“No, you’re gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is.” His smirk was challenging.

Meg just smiled at him.

“Well, at least you’ll get a nice tan,” Dean bit.

Meg continued to shake in pain and gasped finally. “He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.”

Dean leaned down to her. “For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to god, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me god!”

Sam continued reading while wind started blowing through the room.

“Where is he?!” Dean shouted.

“You just won’t take ‘dead’ for an answer, will you?”

“Where is he?!”

“Dead!” she yelled through gritted teeth.

Dean screamed, “No, he’s not! He’s not dead! He can’t be!”

You looked up at him. “Dean—”

“What are you looking at? Keep reading,” he said gruffly to his brother.

“He will be!” Meg cried.

Dean stopped Sam from reading with a raised hand. “Wait! What?!”

“He’s not dead. But he will be after what we do to him,” she explained breathlessly.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.”

“Sam!”

“A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City," Meg admitted, breathing laboriously.

“Missouri? Where, where? An address!”

“I don’t know,” she cried.

“And the demon— the one we’re looking for— where is it?” Sam interrogated.

“I don’t know! I swear! That’s everything. That’s all I know,” Meg whined.

Dean stalked around her, face set in anger. “Finish it.”

“What? I told you the truth!” Meg screamed, pulling against her restraints.

“I don’t care,” Dean responded.

“You son of a bitch, you promised!” She continued to fight harder despite the pain she was obviously in.

“I lied! Sam? Sam! Read.”

Sam pulled Dean aside. “Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“She lied.”

“Sam, there’s a girl trapped in there somewhere,” you said. “We gotta help her.”

“You’re gonna kill her,” Bobby broke in. “You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl is going to die.”

“We can’t just leave her like that, though!” you protested.

“She is a human being,” Bobby said softly.

“And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it,” Dean barked.

Sam hesitated.

“Finish it,” his brother commanded.

Sam obliged, taking a deep breath before continuing. Meg threw her head back and screamed, the demon leaving through her mouth in a cloud of inky blackness. It shot up into the Devil’s Trap on the ceiling, and Meg’s head fell forward.

You looked at her, unsure of whether or not it was really over. She slowly lifted her head, and you watched blood drip from her nose and lips.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. “Call 911, get some water and blankets!” you ordered. “Boys, help me!”

Meg whispered, “Thank you.”

“Shh, shh,” you told her. “Take it easy, okay?”

The boys lifted her off the chair and she yelped in pain. You had them lower her into your lap, so you could cradle her head as a makeshift pillow.

“We’re sorry. We got you, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“A year,” she muttered sadly.

“What?”

“It’s been a year.”

“Shh, just take it easy,” Sam told her.

“I’ve been awake for some of it. I couldn’t move my own body. The things I did…  It's a nightmare.” Her voice was broken in soft sobs as blood spilled from her lips and nose.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing her hair back with your hand.

“Was it telling us the truth about our Dad?” Dean asked.

“Dean—” you scolded.

“We need to know.” He looked at you sharply before looking back down at Meg.

“Yes. But it wants... you to know... that... they want you to come for him.”

“If Dad’s still alive, none of that matters.”

Bobby came back in with a blanket and glass of water. You helped Meg drink while the boys covered her in the blanket.

“Where is the demon we’re looking for?” Sam asked her.

“Not there. Other ones. Awful ones,” she answered weakly.

“By the river. Sunrise.” Her head lolled to the side in your lap, eyes never closing and reopening again. 

“ ‘Sunrise’,” Dean muttered. “What does that mean? What does that mean?”

But Meg was gone. You continued to brush her hair back with your hand, looking down at the poor girl’s face sadly. Tears rose to your eyes. You felt awful for her. Getting possessed and not being in control of your own body was quite literally your worst nightmare.

“You better hurry up and beat it. Before the paramedics get here,” Bobby told you. The four of you rose from the ground and headed to the door.

“What are you gonna tell them?” Dean asked.

“You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I’ll figure something out.” He handed the Key of Solomon book to Sam. “Here, take this. You might need it.”

“Thanks,” Sam grinned.

“Thanks... for everything. Be careful, alright?” Dean told Bobby.

“You just go find your Dad. And when you do, you bring him around, would you? I won’t even try to shoot him this time.”

You gave him a lopsided smile before pulling him into a hug again. “Thank you. I promise I’ll call.”

“You better, kid. Or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

***

About a day and a half later, you and the boys had rescued a badly beaten John from Sunrise Apartments in Jefferson City, Missouri. You’d found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods to shelter in to attempt to make a game plan to go after the demon. You could tell Dean was conflicted about the fact that he’d had to use one of the Colt’s bullets to save Sam but didn’t regret the choice at all. His confliction came from whether or not his dad would kick his ass to hell and back.

“How is he?” Sam asked. You were busy cleaning up the cuts on his badly beaten face that the demon Dean had killed gave him.

“He just needed a little rest, that’s all. How are you?” Dean questioned, referencing the beating Sam had suffered on the rescue mission.

Sam shrugged. “I’ll survive. Hey, you don’t think we were followed here, do you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “We couldn’t have found a more way-out-the-way place to hunker down.”

A moment of silence passed before Sam turned to his brother. “Hey, uh.... Dean, you, um, you saved my life back there.”

Dean smirked. “So, I guess you’re glad I brought the gun, huh?” That had been yet another thing the brothers had fought over.

“Man, I’m trying to thank you here,” Sam chuckled.

“You’re welcome,” the older brother replied.

“All done,” you told Sam. You crossed the room to his brother and sat down next to him.

Dean paused a moment before talking again. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah?”

“You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there.”

You sighed. “You had no choice, dude.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s not what bothers me.”

“Then what does?”

“Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even flinch. For Sam, for my dad... for you..." he couldn't stand to look at you during that admission— "the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just, uh, it scares me sometimes.”

You put a hand on his. “I get it. Me too.”

He gripped your hand tightly as John walked into the room. “It shouldn’t scare you. You did good.”

“You’re not mad?” Dean asked.

“For what?”

“Using a bullet.” The elder son’s face was twisted in confusion.

John chuckled. “Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I: we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have.”

Something changed in Dean’s face. “Thanks.”

The wind suddenly picked up outside, and the lights in the room flickered.

“It found us. It’s here,” John breathed out.

“The demon?” Sam questioned, standing on high alert.

“Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door,” John ordered.

“Already done,” you said.

“Well, check it, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said and left the room.

“Dean, you got the gun?” John asked. “Give it to me.”

Dean took the Colt out of his jeans. “Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared.”

“This is me. I won’t miss. Now, the gun, hurry,” John commanded.

Dean hesitated and looked down at the gun. You looked between the two men, confused as to what was going on.

“Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?”

Dean backed up. “He’d be furious.”

John turned away from the window. “What?”

“That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me; he’d tear me a new one.” Dean cocked the gun and pointed it at John. He pushed you behind him, covering you with his free arm protectively. “You’re not my Dad.”

“Dean, it’s me.” John looked at him like he was crazy.

“I know my Dad better than anyone. And you ain’t him,” Dean responded.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Stay back.”

Sam came into the room, shocked to see Dean pointing the gun at John. “Dean? What the hell’s going on?”

“Your brother’s lost his mind,” John scoffed.

“No, he hasn’t. It’s not your dad, Sam,” you said.

“I think he’s possessed. I think he’s been possessed since we rescued him.” Dean began to get upset.

John protested, but Sam turned to you and Dean. “Dean, how do you know?”

Dean was fighting back tears. “He’s... he’s different.”

“You know, we don’t have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you’ve gotta trust me,” John stated firmly.

Sam stepped back behind you and Dean. 

“Fine. You’re all so sure, go ahead. Kill me,” John spat, seeming emotional. He looked down and waited. Dean held the gun on him, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

“I thought so.” John looked up grinning; eyes yellow with snake-like slits running down the middle.

Sam lunged at him, but was thrown and pinned against the wall. 

“You son of a—” John threw you back against the wall next to Sam, too; cutting you off. Dean shouted your name but ended up pinned as well.

John picked up the Colt that Dean had dropped. “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.”

“It’s you, isn’t it? We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Sam stated.

“Well, you found me,” the demon grinned.

“But the holy water?” the younger son asked in reference to the bit he'd splashed on him during the rescue.

“You think something like that works on something like me?” he taunted.

You tried to fight against the force that had you pinned down, but couldn’t.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Sam screamed.

“Oh, that’d be a neat trick. In fact—” he put the gun down on the table, “—here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.”

Sam looked down at the gun, but nothing happened.

“Well, this is fun. I could’ve killed you a hundred times today, but this... this is worth the wait.” He stalked over to Dean who struggled against his power. “Your Dad: he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says ‘hi,' by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

“Let him go, or I swear to god—”

The demon cut Dean off. “What? What are you and god gonna do? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand.”

Dean mockingly groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You’re the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” The demon smiled maliciously. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean spat.

“I wanna know why. Why’d you do it?” Sam asked.

“You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?” He turned back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything.” He turned back to Sam and walked over to him. “You want to know why? Because they got in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Sam asked.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You... and all the children like you.”

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing,” Dean remarked.

The demon strutted back over to him. “Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain; masks the truth.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Dean ground out.

“You know, you fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam: he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you. And (Y/N)? Your thing with her is pretty pathetic, I gotta say.”

“I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted ‘em,” Dean challenged, smiling. John looked at Dean and backed up, putting his head down. When he looked back up, Dean yelled in pain.

“What are you doing to him?! Stop!” you cried, fighting against your invisible restraints even harder.

Dean began bleeding heavily from his chest. “Dad! Dad, don’t you let it kill me!”

You struggled as hard as you could to get free, but you helplessly watched blood flow out of Dean’s mouth.

“Dad, please.” Dean’s cry broke your heart just before he passed out.

“Dean!” you and Sam yelped. You were suddenly let go, and you dove across the floor to Dean. He slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely.

“Dean, Dean, look at me, baby, please,” you cried. You looked up at Sam pointing the gun at John as you pulled Dean into your lap.

“You kill me, you kill Daddy,” the demon taunted Sam. 

“I know.” He fired the gun and shot it in the leg.

Sam rushed over to you. “Dean? Dean, hey? Oh god, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Dad?” Dean groaned, coming back to.

“He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him.”

You stayed with Dean, crying as you brushed a hand over his cheek. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled despite the situation.

“Shh, shh, stop it.” You shook your head. You turned the palm of your hand up that had been sitting on his chest. It was completely turned red. “Oh, my god.”

He grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over yours. “I’m okay.”

You turned back to John and Sam as the older man yelled, “Sammy! It’s still alive. It’s inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!”

“Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it,” Dean pleaded.

“You’ve gotta hurry! I can’t hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I’m begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!” John begged.

“Sam, no!” you said.

“You do this! Sammy! Sam!” The demon suddenly fled from John, and the man collapsed on the ground.

John looked up at Sam accusingly. You called the brunet over to you. “You gotta help me. We gotta get him to a hospital now,” you cried. You and Sam shouldered Dean and brought him to the car while he groaned in pain.

You sat next to him in the backseat. His body was slumped over against the door, and you leaned against his chest to make sure his heart was still beating. Or, that was what you told yourself, at least. Despite the situation, you found the feeling of him against you comforting.

Sam got his father down in the car and began to speed away from the cabin.

“Look, just hold on, alright. The hospital’s only ten minutes away,” Sam told his father.

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn’t you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first— before me, before everything.”

Sam looked up at you and his brother in the rearview mirror. “No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we’ve still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon—”

Suddenly, the car was thrown to the side and continued to skid down a hill. You held Dean against you despite the blood soaking into your hair and clothes and silently prayed for this all to be over. You could feel the side of the car had been pushed in on top of your legs, and finally, the car stopped moving. 

“Dean!” you cried. “Guys!” No one was responding to you. “Dean!”

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[deanstead]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested: Yes, by anon

Summary: Sam gets an unexpected call from Y/N, which brings another surprise for Dean

Word Count: 2.7K

Tags/Warnings: Dad!Dean, canon-typical mentions of blood/violence

A/N: In my "everything i write sucks" era but thanks to @seatsbythepit for her consistent beta services! I think this was in my inbox for a (long) while so I finally got this out!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

Sam frowned, glancing at his phone where it was lighting up with an incoming call from a number he didn’t know.

Not many people had this number, so he picked up warily, as Dean looked up.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line before a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Sam?” 

Sam froze.

“Y/N?”

Dean sat up straighter, his eyes flicking toward his brother but Sam wasn’t paying attention.

It had been more than 2 years since you’d left and not a day had gone by that Dean didn’t blame himself for it. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, the last fight still haunted him - the look in your eyes when those hurtful words had cut across the room, the defeated sound in your voice as you looked him in the eyes and told him that if that’s what he thought of you, there was no point to all this.

After you left, he’d spent too many days staring at your name in his lists of contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button. The days ticked by, and soon it was way too late for Dean to call or reach out so he was left with replaying the last conversation you’d ever had like he needed to torture himself to make up for the hurt.

“Where are you?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he frowned. That was never a good sign.

Sam spoke in a low voice before he nodded and hung up.

Dean stared at his younger brother as Sam stood, pausing as his eyes flicked toward Dean who was watching intently.

“Dean, she…”

Dean nodded, his eyes flicking back downward. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

“Look, why don’t you help from here, alright? I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Sam said, although he knew it must be killing Dean. 

“Yeah, just let me know what you need,” Dean responded, failing to hide the slight dejection in his voice as Sam left.

“Sammy.”

His name flowed off your lips the moment you opened the door, feeling familiar yet foreign at the same time. Yet, it was really good to see him.

Sam just smiled, enveloping you in a tight hug the way only an older brother would. “It’s good to see you.”

You nodded, smiling.

“You flying solo?” Sam asked, frowning.

You shook your head. “I’m not hunting. Not really. We were just passing through and I wanted to just run, but I… I couldn’t. Now, my friend’s sister is missing and I just…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wait. We?”

You gave him a guilty smile. “That’s why I called.” You paused before continuing. “And why I asked you to come alone. I didn’t think I should surprise Dean out here.”

Sam gave you a confused look and you exhaled slowly.

Without saying anything more, you led Sam into the room, as his eyes fell upon a two-year-old kid. A kid who was unmistakably Dean’s son as he gripped a miniature Impala car in his hand where he was sitting on the ground.

Sam looked at you in surprise.

You nodded. “This is Leo.”

It was probably a Winchester thing but Leo took to Sam almost immediately despite the fact he never let anyone else but you carry him for the past two years. 

You remembered how he’d wail in the doctor's or nurse’s arms but he seemed perfectly content sitting in Uncle Sammy’s arms now, playing with Sam’s hair.

“I was gonna get a friend to watch him, but if he likes you so much…”

Sam looked at you like you were crazy. “You’re not going alone.”

You exhaled slowly and nodded, like you’d already expected this answer from him.

Instead, Sam asked to review the information you had. It felt almost like the good old days, as you watched Sam pore over the notes you had at the small desk at the motel, the only thing different being that Dean wasn’t here and you had a two-year-old who’d fallen asleep in your arms.

You knew Sam was planning to call Dean when he left to get dinner but you pretended like you didn’t, busying yourself with preparing Leo’s meal.

When Sam returned with food for the both of you, you glanced at him and he nodded. “Yeah, I called Dean. Look, you know the research there is helpful. It won’t hurt.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Sam glanced up at you. “What’s the plan, Y/N? Why didn’t you tell him? Or me?”

You glanced over your shoulder at where Leo was sleeping soundly and sighed softly. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess Dean and I never really had the talk. I didn’t know where he stood with regards to having kids, especially in this life.”

You paused, looking up at Sam momentarily before continuing. “Besides, we’d broken up. I thought he’d try to come and get me but… well, he didn’t. By the time I found out I was pregnant, too much time had passed and I didn’t know how to tell him.”

Sam nodded quietly, letting you continue.

“But I got out. I didn’t let Leo into this part of our life. Until today. And I hate it that he’s here when there’s a nest of fucking vamps right here. I didn’t…”

Sam reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “You were right to call. No matter what, it never hurts to have someone looking out for you.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad it’s you…”

“And Dean. Sorta.” You added after a small silence.

The conversation was cut short by Sam’s phone and he quickly answered it. “Anything good?”

You could hear the crackle of Dean’s voice and you felt your heart give a jolt. A jolt that didn’t exactly surprise you. Of course, how could you ever get over Dean Winchester?

You could vaguely hear Dean giving Sam some additional information before Sam hung up, glancing at you.

“You sure about this, Y/N?”

You glanced at Leo before nodding. You planted a firm kiss on Leo’s head, nodding to your friend, Samantha.

“Don’t worry. Sam’s great at what he does. We’ll figure this out.” 

She nodded back at you, assuring you that Leo was in safe hands.

It was your first hunt in a long while, but being a hunter seemed to already be a part of your DNA. 

Armed with the information that Dean had dug up, you and Sam managed to infiltrate the nest, easily lopping heads of vampires off as they were caught off-guard. You were glad Sam was there to have your back, especially when you both made your way to the dead center of the nest. 

“Sharon?” You kept your voice low. 

You headed to where she was huddled in the corner. You didn’t know Sharon well but you’d met once or twice when you’d come up here to meet Samantha.

“Y/N?” 

Her voice shook slightly. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I promised Samantha I’d bring you home.”

Sharon looked around, her eyes flicking to a dead body lying to the side. “They’re…”

You shook your head at Sharon. “Sharon, look at me. We’re going to get you home alright? Trust me.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Sam urged gently. 

Of course, you knew hunts never went that smoothly. 

A growl alerted you that a vamp had joined you and your body stiffened, the grip on the machete in your hand tightening. 

“Sam, get her out of here.”

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was stressed and you recognized it, the struggle between leaving you here and taking Sharon to safety. 

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him, glancing back at the new arrival.

Sam didn’t answer but you knew the exact moment when he took Sharon and left, their footsteps seeming to echo as they got further away. 

“You hunters are the real monsters.” The vampire droned, staring at you. “Here we are, just trying to survive and you break into our home and kill my entire family.”

You tried to stifle the sarcastic laughter that was at the tip of your tongue.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

You knew it was coming before the vampire twitched, and you swung your machete upward as he rushed toward you. 

The vampire sidestepped, missing the machete by inches as it growled, even more determined to get you.

You stepped back again as it lunged at you, your heart sinking as you felt yourself lose your footing. 

Fuck. 

You rolled out of the way but the vampire was too quick, pouncing upon you. 

You raised your machete but it was too close, the machete inching closer toward you as the vampire bared its fangs at you. 

You held onto a single thought. You had to get home to Leo. 

Then, as if by sheer willpower, the unmistakable sound of a blade swishing through the air before the vampire’s head rolled off its shoulders. 

“Dean?”

Dean had lasted all of five minutes after the last call with Sam before he’d muttered a “screw this” to himself and torn his way out of the bunker and down to where Sam and you were.

You were still stunned as Dean rolled what was left of the vampire off you and helped you up.

“You alright? Are you hurt?” Dean’s eyes studied you, unable to differentiate if the blood on you was the result of any injuries you might have sustained before he’d arrived.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

The atmosphere sank into awkwardness as the both of you stood there now in silence.

“Sorry, Y/N. I know you wanted me to sit this one out, but I…”

You shook your head and interrupted him. “No, I… Thanks, Dean.”

You fell back into silence, both of you walking out toward the exit to Sam.

“God, Y/N!” Sharon’s stressed voice made her way to you first but you didn’t miss the surprised look Sam gave his brother even as you were assuring Sharon you weren’t hurt.

You looked up to see Dean quietly heading to the Impala, and before you could think through your next move, you were running toward him.

“Dean.”

Dean paused and turned to look at you.

You took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

There was a look in Dean’s eyes that sat somewhere between confusion and intrigue.

You looked down at your blood-stained clothes and smiled. “Give me a few hours and I’ll come meet you at the bunker?” 

The words rolled off your tongue feeling foreign yet welcoming at the same time.

“The bunker?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “Or wherever you guys want. If you don’t want me there.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not what I…” He paused before continuing. “See you there.”

You watched the Impala drive off before you turned back to look at Sam, who had a small smile on his face, and you knew he’d heard everything.

You’d delivered Sharon safely back to Samantha, who hadn’t asked any questions, just glad to see her sister again. and you even managed to shower and change before Leo even noticed you and Sam were gone.

Now, Sam pulled up outside the bunker and you took a deep breath. 

“Ready?” Sam asked softly.

You gave a short laugh. “Never.”

You felt everything at the same time as you took Leo in your arms and walked into the bunker, the memories seeming to hit you all at once - the way this place made you feel, the laughter in your head that belonged to a memory of the three of you as you sat in Dean's embrace.

Even if this was the same place where things had ended, it was the happy memories that followed you as you walked down the stairs now.

Dean stepped out of the kitchen, freezing in his footsteps.

His eyes took in the sight before him, a kid that looked like a carbon copy of himself except for the eyes that were undoubtedly yours.

“Y/N…”

You cleared your throat and exhaled. 

“Hey Leo, let’s go find you some snacks,” Sam said, reaching his hands out for Leo.

Leo cracked a smile and allowed Sam to pick him out of your arms. “Pie!”

Sam glanced over at Dean, unable to hide a chuckle. “I’m sure we have that.”

The silence that followed was almost loud as Dean looked at you in disbelief and you cleared your throat. “Let’s talk.”

Dean led the way into the library, unsure if he should be pissed or happy to see you.

You leaned against one of the tables, as Dean looked back at you.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, looking down. You knew Dean had every right to be angry and you braced yourself for the rise in his voice but nothing came.

You glanced up at him again, meeting the green eyes you’d sorely missed.

Met with Dean’s silence you spoke again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. By the time I found out about it, too much time had passed since the last time we spoke. I stared at your number but I was afraid. I…” You took another breath. “We never talked about this. I didn’t know if you’d be happy or not and I chickened out.”

“So were you never going to tell me?” Dean finally asked.

You couldn’t really determine the tone of his voice but you shook your head.

“I… I kinda was on the way here.” You said quietly.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said. “Part of me thought if I just drove here, I wouldn’t be able to back out anymore. Then, that nest of vamps kidnapped my friend’s sister so I…”

“So you called Sam.” It was a statement.

You gave him a tentative smile. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing Leo without an explanation in the middle of a hunt.”

Dean exhaled slowly.

“So what now?” Dean asked.

You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid your eyes would give you away. The eyes that screamed how you were still in love with him and that you’d missed him every single day that you’d been apart. The way your heart crumbled every time Leo smiled because it reminded you of Dean, and how all you wanted was to be enveloped in those arms again.

Even as those thoughts ran through your mind, you felt the prick of tears because this was exactly why you’d put off telling Dean about Leo.

“I don’t know, D.” You answered quietly. 

Your voice cracked slightly and you hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it.

“Y/N.” He called, forcing you to look up at him, even though the tears blurred your vision.

Dean closed the gap between the both of you, one hand cupping your face as he pressed his lips against yours, his other arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“God, I missed you,” Dean whispered, as he pulled away just a little, your faces still pressed together.

You buried your face into his shoulder without saying anything, feeling your tears get absorbed into the shirt he had on.

You needn’t have worried about Leo. You looked at you son clutching the tiny toy Impala while he sat in his father's arms almost triumphantly as they came back in. Dean had brought Leo to see the real thing, and Leo had a ball of a time just sitting in the Impala.

“Mama, can we stay?” Leo asked with anticipation in his voice.

You froze. Dean and you hadn’t talked about anything. He’d kissed you, you’d hugged and then you’d gotten him out of that library to meet his son.

Dean closed the gap between the two of you, putting Leo into a giant hug between the both of you before he reached out for your hand.

“Stay,” Dean said quietly.

You glanced up at him. 

“I’m not going to lose you again.” Dean added, squeezing your hand gently. “Not for anything in the world.”

The words felt stuck in your throat, but you glanced at Leo and smiled. “Yeah, we’re staying with Daddy and Uncle Sammy.”

Dean leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips amidst Leo's triumphant yells.

Sam moved forward to press you into a hug. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

Character taglists are open, hit me up if you would like to be added!

#dean winchester x reader #resa.fics #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester oneshot #resa's requests #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #dad!dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n

[emjee]

hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned  on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

#fic #mine #steve rogers #captain america #wip #mg says stuff #fixed the typos thank u augacity #best friend for this very reason

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes smut #sex pollen-esque soulmate biology

[maji-aries]

𝕺𝖇𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍~

alpha!konig x omega!reader x alpha!ghost

Tw: oral (m! giving and recieving), throat fucking, breeding, cockwarming , threesome, stomach bulge, kinda dub-con, face sitting, a bit thigh riding, fingering.

~Ghost POV~

It was just another day like many. Get up ,eat ,patrols ,repeat. Boring and draining until I walked down the halls with a good college of mine ,Konig. Despite us both being alphas we got along..well most of the time. Most of us here were alphas ,We had an Omega here a year ago as far as I remember but he died on the battle field. To no ones surpise being honest.

Walking down into our quarters. It felt like every never in my body was suddenly on edge ,I looked over at my friend. I could only see his pupils delate and the way he was beginning to sweat under his sniperhood before both of us knew exactly what drove us wild...only a sweet and innocent little Omega in fresh heat could cause something like this.

Neither of us wasted any time to follow that sweet ,sweet scent of pheremones in the air. To our suprise the alluring smell of list brought us right to **our* room..So our little cadet was indeed just an Omega that hid herself from us what a naughty ,naughty girl... Quickly bursting into the door we already saw her on the bed ,panting ,sweating ,curled up on her bed with a nest built of our clothing. I could already smell that sweet cunt calling for me..Before I even registered it Konig had ripped off his Sniperhood ,barley able to contain himself from pounching on this sweet little thing. And fuck would I be a lier if I didnt want to sink my teeth into that delicate little neck. Growling ,both of us hungrily walked over to her. The fear yet begging to be knotted in her eyes was all we needed to know. Neither of us had to say a word before that obedient little bitch in heat rolled onto her back ,exposing that cute tummy.. which soon will bulge with cum ..to us."Please- I.." ,she panted ,begging softly , "I dont know whats going on.." "A first time heater hm?.." ,Konig chuckled darkly ,the thrive to ruin that innocent litte slut was written all over his face. She nod pathetically ,whinning softly for us. My friend was the first to climb onto the bed with her ,quickly getting rid of his ,either way ,sweaty shirt. I could hear him growling before he went down on her. Grabbing her by the legs and dragging her towards him ,pulling her onto his lap. And fuck would I be a lier if this didnt turn me on ,I decided to be patient for now ,sitting down on the edge of the bed while slowly palming my already hard cock through my pants.. Konig on the other hand wasnt patient ,he quickly got to work on undoing her shirt ,as she wrapped her delicate arms around his neck he quickly began to grope those perfect breasts. Not to big ,not to small ,perfectly fitting into the palm. And shit ,it almost made me cum on the spot when I heard her moan and his groan fill the air. "I bet those nipples are begging to get sucked hm?..Little Omegas like you are always so sensitiv in theire heat..", he chuckled darkly before unclipping her bra ,throwing it off to the side. Damn was it a sight to see those perfect tits bounce slightly ,semi-erect nipples begging to be sucked. And rather quickly was theire begging aknowleged as I heard Konigs slurps fill the air. Watching her arch her back ,throw her head back and moan as her hands tangeled into his air. It was to much. Even if I wanted to be patient I simply had to ,pulling down my pants and slowly teasing my sensitiv cockhead with my thump. My friend on the other hand rolled her sensitiv nipples between his fingers ,pulling and pinching them. Earning moan after moan from that eager little Omega. Mindlessly she began to grind her hips along his tigh.."That sweet little pussy must be begging for friction" ,I tought to myself." Yeah ,you like riding my thigh?", Konig groaned ,flexing his thigh before grabbing her hips ,controlling the pace as he slowly dragged that delicious cunt along his thigh. It was one hell of a show to see these two get all hot and bothered. Like a real time porn and I was defenetily not complaining.

Watching my friend drag his tounge along the line of her tits before sucking on one of those nipples ,hell ,what would I give to suck on those breasts. I heard him groan as he moved his hand down ,his thump finding her sweet little clit. Rubbing tight circles into the sensitiv nerve bundle ,adding to the sensation of her slick folds dragging along his thigh.This was simply to much ,no holds barred I wasnt able to keep myself in control any longer. I had to get a taste of that sweet wettness. "Move man." ,I growled under my breath as I stomped over. Snatching that sweet omega from his lap and throwing her onto the bed. Ripping off any remaining clothes that could get between me and my meal. "Verdammnter Bastard." ,I heard him snarl. He could be pissed all he wanted tho ,I'd get my dessert now. It was his time to wait and watch while I had my fun. She looked all shy ,rubbing those soft thighs together desperate in the need of friction. Laying down on my back I pulled her ontop of me ,my hands locking around her thighs as I pulled her waiting cunt to my face ,yet she pulled back ,hesitating. "I'll suffocate you.." ,that sweet thing muttered nervously. "Even if you do ,that horny slut would die a happy man ,now sit down" ,Konig demanded while pushing her hips down. I felt her weight ontop of me ,yet it didnt bother me. She earned herself a groan once I let my tounge run through her slit and those plush thighs locked around my head. I was eating that sweet pussy like a man starved ,lapping between her entrance and that soft clit ,licking..teasing..sucking those sensitiv sweet spots. I couldnt see ,but I felt her arching her back ,moaning and crying my name while her delicate fingers gripped onto my hair. It felt like she tried to shove my face deeper into that sweetness and Let me tell you ,I was sureley not gonna complain. "Fuck- you taste so damn good.." ,I rasped ,getting lost in the moment before I felt someone grab onto my manhood. Slowly dragging theyre hand along my shaft. I mindlessly bucked my hips up into the delicious friction until something clicked. This wasnt this sweet Omegas hand ,the hand felt way to rough and big for that ,her hands were still tangeled in my hair anyway actually. And once I heard that motherfucker groan ,I knew it. "Konig-!" ,I snarled. That bitch only chuckled in response."Relax..keep licking that pussy clean while I work on some..business" ,he snickered before my eyes almost rolled back. The sensation of his warm mouth greedily welcoming my swollen tip ,his lips wrapping around my length ,swallowing inch after inch ,painfully slow. I never tought I was intrested in men but damn was that tall-ass good at sucking dick.

While Konig seemed to be enjoying his meal I was enjoying mine. Meanwhile my hands got to work too ,two of my fingers finding theire way into that tight little cunt ,rubbing and stimulating her g-spot while sucking on her clit did wonders on slowly working that tighness open. Heavy slurps filled the room as Konig had managed to swallow all of me ,his tounge massaging the underside of my shaft ,bobbing his head up and down as his hand gently squeezed and played with my balls. Shit-..I never knew my family jewelery was that sensitiv but fuck did it feel good.

That cocky fuck has been edging me for a while now ,no matter how much I bucked my hips he would always stop sucking last second. "Shove his fucking head down-!" ,I snarled between licking those tasty juices. And ta-da. My obedient princess obeyed in no time ,grabbing onto Konigs head and shoving it down ,all the way till his nose touched my pubic bone.He gagged loudly ,his pretty throat tightening around my thick shaft. Fuck ,I could've came right on the spot. What a little pleausre can do to a women ,mindlessly obeying commands. Either way ,I was just as eager to taste her cum so I let my fingers work quicker. Curl and press up against her g-spot.

"Im gonna- Simon please-! Im gonna-!" ,she cried out. And before she could even finish her sentence I felt her walls almost crush my fingers. Her juices flowing out of her and right onto my eager tounge. Like the good man I am ,I quickly licked up all her juices. Konig in the meantime continued to slurber around my shaft ,I could feel his saliva ,or my pre. I dont even care being honest ,running out of his mouth and all over my lap. With a finally squeeze of my balls. I came ,harder than I expected. Konig groaned and gagged around my twitching cock as ropes of hot white slowly ran down his throat. And before I had to even say a word. He swallowed like the good boy he was. That sweet Omega was panting ,almost limp as she barley had the strength to keep herself upright. And once Konig released my shaft I settled her down on the bed. "Let her head hang of the bed.",my friend rasped with a smug grin.And so I did. Moving her either way limp body so her head hung off the bed slightly ,I didnt care what Konig had planned. What I cared for was this pussy. Grabbing her thighs and spreading them pretty legs once more as I grabbed my dick by its base. Slowly teasing my red tip around her entrance. That sweet yelp was all I needed to know before I slid the tip in. That slut was so wet it slid in like butter. Her thighs trembeled in my hands as I slowly inserted inch after inch. She arched her back of the bed ,panting like a dog while her eyes rolled back. "Süße Schlampe." ,Konig cooed before rubbing his tip with pre over her lips. , "Now say Ah~.."Obediently she opened her mouth ,placing her hands against his thighs before letting him stuff his dick into her mouth like some cheap whore. She gagged ,yet I heard her obediently slurp and suck his cock. And taken his groan and the way his hips bucked. Konig loved it. Those tight walls wrapped around me- fuck I felt like a vrigin again ,getting pussy for the first time was nothing compared to this hot ,tight little cunt. She had adjusted enough ,in my eyes ,before I began to gently pull out and slam back in. Her whole body rocked forward ,and watching those tits bounce? Incredible. My hand moved between our connected bodies to rub her clit. My goal was to leave a mark on that body. My dick reaching depths she probably didnt know existed. Fucked from rear and front she took it like a slut. Our pretty little slut at that. It didnt take long before Konig shoved his cock balls deep into that sweet mouth ,groaning: "cumming-" ,before slowly pulling out of her mouth. "Gutes Mädchen.." ,he praised while gently caressing her throat. His sharp gaze now lingered on me as I fucked this pussy into exercy. She was a moaning mess ,arching her back before she came without a warning ,probably to dumbfucked to get a proper word out. The way that already tight pussy griipped my cock made it feel like she was crushing it. Which ,to no ones suprise ,made me cum instandly at that tightness. I let her ride out her delicious high by lazily rolling my hips into hers ,rubbing her clit raw until she jerked away at the slightest friction. I pulled out slowly ,watching my cum ooze out of her little hole..Now as I looked at that sweaty ,fucked out mess of an Omega ,her tummy indeed had a slight bulge from my cum nestling inside her. "Ah ah ah..dont waiste those precious juices." ,Konig spoke sofly yet with a chuckle before he pulled her into a spooning position. Slowly inserting his thick shaft into her twitching hole ,stopping any cum from seeping out further. She moaned at the sensation yet stayed limp and all cuddly in his arms. "Cockwarming eh?" ,I teased. "What can I say ,I like a warm ,tight pussy wrapped around me." ,Konig snickered back before beginning to caress her hair. A little cuddle time after this didnt sound to bad..so I decided to join them ,getting next to our well bred little Omega and wrapping my arms around her.

#konig cod #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #konig x reader #konig smut #ghost smut #omegaverse #breeding k1nk #Omgea heat #val.txt

[savagewildnerness]

E12: Don’t be afraid, just start the tape:

So, first of all - what magnificent acting from everyone in this episode.  Oh my!  They’re all utterly wonderful!  I’m going to point it out at certain points as I go, but oh my - they are all wondrous!  And the language - every line of this episode mattered!

I found it interesting to reflect on vampire versus human perspective on both life and immortality in this episode - Daniel perceives immortality as an opportunity to seize existence eternally and truly LIVE life, while the vampires themselves dwell in existential malaise…. And is THIS that makes Daniel fascinating..?

Daniel ‘grabbing’ syntax - the bit where Louis refers to himself in the third person… now we have to  rewatch the entire show with this in mind, to see when else Louis or Armand referred to themselves this way…?!

“Someone half in love with an easeful death” - How Louis refers to Armand’s victims when he can’t find an evildoer are the exact words Armand later says to Daniel

Louis has more of an ease with himself in San Francisco, while at the same time being the most lost we have ever seen him.  He’s more at ease with his nature - in his posture; in killing… but not in all ways - clearly!

“Cocaine’s a fun boy’s drug.  I’m not fun.” LOL @ Louis, the truther!

Louis: “Do you want to now?” To Dubai-Daniel.  Audience: YES PLEASE!  Off you GO!

Louis’ sheer check shirt is TOO GOOD.  I love it.  I want it.

IS one of them the Zodiac killer though?  We need to look at that victim list from earlier than 1973…

“You were lonely, Louis, you were floundering…”

Jacob’s acting - he’s so great in this episode, but I especially adored the way he eviscerates Lestat!  Jacob is hilarious!  And it’s funny, like it is in the books!  So over the top… Louis leaning in to the tape like his words are weapons to lure Lestat towards him.  It’s so redolent to what Lestat did in creating his Come to Me recording with Antoinette’s voice… except the opposite - Lestat created a loving thing, but used his lovers voice on the loving thing to anger Louis… Louis twists Lestat into the most spiteful thing and I absolutely love that they included the concept in the books that would hurt Lestat the most of all - when Louis says that his piano playing is emotionless.  “He played without an iota of feeling.. with all the emotional acuity of a MONSTER!” Yeah Louis, THAT will draw Lestat out…

And while I’m on the note of music - how interesting the music in this episode… that single-note hypnotic piano pedal that keeps coming back over and over again - anticipatory…. The meagre, fractured strings… utterly unlike the music in this series outside this episode

And Louis, just wanting Daniel to agree… getting him high ought to make him more acquiescent… and yet, he gets more than he bargained for… Daniel still notices subtext in what Louis is saying and doing, and it intrigues Louis… for what do these eternal beings truly want, but to be entirely understood…? 

Daniel pointing out Lestat was Louis’ first love, even amid Louis’ trash talk

Daniel “I’m with her…. Get off that bench, brother.”

Daniel’s confidence in his SELF when asking for the dark gift - the confidence of a truly young man.  And How great is Luke - let’s say it now.  He is SO Eric.  His fear, his bravado, how scared for him you feel

The way Dubai-Daniel trusts Louis here, showing him the laptop

Armand: What if it was published?  You don’t have enough to fear from Paris?

“You are so BORING. Colourless.  Flavourless.  Dull. Dull. Dull nights, dull weeks, dull months, dull as f… Suffocation by the world’s softest, beigest pillow… the ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting than decades with you.”  OK but tell us what you REALLY feel, Louis, LOLOLOLOLOL

Armand’s mocking impression of Louis “Oh, it’s so hard to be me!!!” And Louis retaliating.  God, I LOVE their argument!  A perfect mix of awful, painful… and hilarious!!!  (Imagine Lestat laughing…)

The name unuttered in our home for 23 years

“She didn’t love you.  Not like he did.  Not like I have.”  They’re going there with Claudia!

“Can you hear her?  She’s calling me…”. Claudia’s ghost is clearly what calls Louis to going into the sun and I wonder if this is foreshadowing and if that image of Claudia in the sunlight could be Claudia’s ghost at the end of the series, but this time we can see her… again calling Louis…?

“The floor slants slightly North. The blood flowed that way.” This line is repeated a few times by Armand… and I didn’t understand why, but it felt important.  Did anyone understand why.

Gosh the language in this episode is beautiful - poetic, play-like, and so much of Anne’s words.

“He’s fine.  He’s just one.” Echoes of Armand telling Lestat how unharmed Nicki was….

“He confessed his innermost secrets to you” - the betrayal of emotional intimacy

“You’re going to teach me how to be fascinating.”  OK… now is the moment.  Love letter to Assad Zaman and to Armand.  It is just heartbreaking the way he needs something from Daniel here.  In this episode, Armand saves Louis’ life.  He is a conduit for Louis’ true love’s voice.  In fact, he does so much in love for Louis… And yet he is told he is boring.

The irony is that Armand IS special!!!  He is absolutely the most complex vampire… he just doesn’t understand how to love or be loved… and Louis is NOT his "one"! But he is SO fascinating!  And special.  All of the edits to Radiohead's Creep PLEASE!!!!

I also find it WONDROUS in a show about vampires - where vampires are always a metaphor to The Outsider... yet... in art, The Outsider is often portrayed in in my opinion - an unrealistic way, as in "actually the outsider is infinitely special, really!", BUT IN ARMAND, the writers have given us a truly actually special character who truly feels like many outsiders do - that they are irrevocably flawed and there is something significant truly missing in them (us) - AND is told by the person he loves SO much he would literally be a pathway to their other love that he is boring and not special and not enough... THAT is relatable! (Even though nobody has told me this, as I am simply isolated, personally! Yet, still, I feel it!)

“A splinter of coldness in you.  Is that what makes you fascinating?”  “Even his transgressions are ordinary.”

The way Armand looks at Daniel when he says “Do you want to hear my story?” - “An eager black hole.”  Armand seeking if it is how Daniel listens that makes him fascinating to Louis…

Armand communicating to Lestat “I won’t say a word.”  What is Lestat telling Armand here about where he is?

Their feet in the stones

“All I talked about him was trash.”  “Yes, you said that.  But why?  It’s not exactly how you’ve talked about him to me.  Did I catch you in a fantasy?” A fantasy where Lestat reads Louis nasty embellishments and comes chasing after him again….

“This prison of empathy I’ve locked you in.” Gosh, I love the language

“I am your maker’s voice: Louis, mon Cher.  You anted to say something to me? Why are you ill? What’s happened to you?  I love you Louis.  Tell him Armand.”

Armand really does this in such selfless love for Louis and of course Armand cannot bring himself to speak Lestat’s I love you to Louis.  It is too much.  Especially seeing as all Armand ever asked of Lestat was for Lestat to love *him*!  Oh Armand!  You deserve love!  

A final act of service

“You left me for death.”

Louis, using Daniel’s “And then…”

I am the quiet you have been longing for after all the garishness of life.  The way Armand eases Daniel into death.  Sensual.  Beautiful.  Terrible.  And Anne’s words.

Daniel saying how Armand redacted himself from his mind reminded me of Daniel saying “Disregard” to Armand’s input to the story at the start of the season

Armand did edit Louis and Daniel’s brains… but Louis was suicidal… so there was cause…

Louis’ anger at the end

Trial starting next episode…!

Assad: “Armand can’t ever relax with the truth”

Jacob in the post episode thing - saying he can’t think of a bigger betrayal than rewriting the history of a person you love and that it makes him angry… referring to what Armand does to Louis… when IN THIS SAME EPISODE, that’s literally what Louis does to Lestat, albeit not in Lestat’s mind… but still… there are similarities!! Haha

Lestat is my boy, and Sam IS Lestat… and everyone in this episode is so incredible - but ASSAD'S ARMAND.  Armand was always my second favourite vampire, but Assad - I do not understand how you are making me love Armand even MORE!  Be MORE evil, Armand.  And more tragic.  And more loving.  Be every thing you are.  I know you are fascinating!!!!!  Every episode, I love Assad even more.

Finally: reviewers were wrong - this is ABSOLUTELY the foundation of The Devil’s Minion.  From horror, grows love.  Though this episode is mainly created, there is SO MUCH of Anne Rice in it and it feels 100% her.  He words, her feelings.  Her gothic romance.  ADORE.

Oh and PS, it's both hilarious and totally tragic that sexy Loumand times can't truly happen until Armand has literally WIPED Lestat from Louis' mind, hahahahahaha! Poor Armand. Obviously he's monstrous in this episode. And I love you for every ounce of your monstrosity and all of the pain beneath it!!!

#iwtv e12 #interview with the vampire #anne rice #amc interview with the vampire #assad zaman #iwtv louis #louis de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #Daniel molloy #the devils minion

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on the followers! I saw your asks for the event are open and was hoping to get a soulmate AU with Wrecker or Tech. Hurt/comfort if your up for it.

Lost

Summary: When you were a child, you never found any items that belonged to someone else in your things. Your parents reassured you to the best of their abilities, telling you that your soulmate was probably just very neat and didn’t lose things. But, by the time you reach your teenage years, you’ve accepted that while your soulmate might be yours, you’re not necessarily theirs.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: Enough angst that I made myself weepy, but there's a happy ending. Reader is described as having hair and is referred to by the nickname Haze.

Prompt: Soulmate AU - when you lose an item, it ends up in your soul mates possession.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, you didn't specify which Soul mate AU you wanted, so I went through a list and picked one that I thought sounded interesting. I hope you don't mind!

“There you are,” You don’t look up from your computer screen at the familiar voice of Suture, the leader of this group of teenagers and young adults. “So, Haze,” you pause as he calls you by your assigned nickname, “What do you have for me?”

“Do you think that slicing is magic, Suture?” You ask, your fingers moving across the keyboard again, “If I’m not careful we’ll get caught. And we do not want to be caught.”

He drops down on one of the crates that line the wall behind you, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just eager.”

You sigh and turn on your stool, “What do you even want this list for, Suture?”

“It’s a list of soulmates. Why do you think I want this list?”

You sigh once more and turn back to the computer, “I know you’re salty about not having a soulmate, Suture, but you really need to let it go.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that my soulmate belongs to someone else. It doesn’t make me want to make other people as miserable as me.”

Suture laughs, “You say that, Haze, but you joined this group too. You’re just as bitter as me. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

“Is there something you need or are you just here to make me hate you?” You ask sharply.

“Wann join me in bed?” Suture asks with a leer.

“I want you to leave me alone so I can focus.” You bite out in retort, “If you want someone in your bed, go and ask Diamond. She’s not busy.”

“You’ll join me eventually.”

“No. I won’t. I’m doing this one job, and then I’m moving on to a more reasonable cell.”

“Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You hear, more than see, him get up and stalk out of your workroom. And you exhale slowly before you focus your attention back on your work. As soon as you finish this, you’re gone.

There’s the sound of heavy footsteps behind you, and you release an explosive sigh, “I thought I said—” You whirl around to glare at Suture, only to pause and blink at the man standing behind you. “You’re not Suture.”

“Nope.” Spoiler, a Kiffar man, says with an easy grin. “I can go and get him if you’d like.”

“Please don’t.”

He laughs and pulls a small crate over to sit next to you, “He’s been harassing you again?”

“He seems to think that he’s charming enough to convince me to stay.” You reply as you look away from him and glance back at the computer, “He’s not.”

Spoiler laughs again, and leans on the table, “Hey, Haze?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

You pause and shoot him a confused look, “Like, in general, or—?”

He grins, “I mean, why’d you join this group?”

“That’s a dumb question, Spoiler. We both know that there isn’t anywhere else for someone like to me go.” You reply, “People without soulmates aren’t welcome. Anywhere.”

“You’re not like the rest of them, Haze.”

You continue typing, “If you’re not careful people are going to peg you for a narc, Jedi.”

“You had me pegged the moment you met me, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t trying all that hard to hide yourself from me.”

“True. You’re a decent person. Don’t have anything to do with any other the others. That’s why I’m so surprised that you’re here. That you’re helping.” 

You sigh softly, “What do you want from me, Spoiler?”

“I want you to be smart about this.” He hisses, “This, right here, it’s going to ruin your life. And not just your life, the lives of hundreds of children.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “...why should they get to be happy?”

Spoiler sighs, “You don’t believe that.”

“...no. I don’t.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”

“No.”

You sigh, “Go ahead.”

Spoiler drops a handful of credits on the table, “Take your laptop and go and get a caf.”

You shoot him a bewildered look, “Sorry?”

“Haze, you don’t want to be here for the next couple of hours. Alright?”

You stare at him, your eyes wide. And then, slowly, you close your laptop and grab the handful of credits. “Alright.”

“Good girl.” Spoiler walks you to the exit, and, as nice as he can, shoves you out of the hide-out and slams the door behind you.

You stare at the closed door for a moment, before you turn on your heels and head towards your favorite cafe. It offers a free internet connection, so long as you buy something. 

It’s also a nice place to hear some juicy gossip.

But, most importantly, they sell your favorite sandwich and you’re starving. 

The cafe is small and out of the way, not the most popular of the cafes in the area, it’s also not the cheapest, but they offer the best firewalls and their meals are filling, so you take a single table in the back corner and open your computer to a blank email and stare at it for a moment.

It’s been months since you’ve contacted your mom.

You should message her more often.

Slowly, you type out the first sentence, ‘Hi mom, I know it’s been a while-” and then you stop. What are you supposed to say? What can you say?

You’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts when someone stops next to your table, “Can I ask what sandwich that is? It smells amazing.”

The man standing next to your table is massive, a veritable wall of muscle, though he has a kind smile on his face. 

“Oh, this is the Manager’s Special with extra veggies on naan bread. It’s not the cheapest on the menu, but it’s very filling.”

“Hm, I’ll have to give it a try. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You reply, absently, as you focus your attention back on the email. And, maybe if you had been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the bracelet wrapped around his wrist.

But you were only half paying attention. So, naturally, the simple bracelet jumps out at you. 

And you realize that you know that bracelet.

Your dad had it specially made for you for your sixteenth birthday. The inner band has a simple phrase, Your worth isn’t based on other people, while the outside was decorated with vines and flowers.

You loved it. 

It was meant to be a birthday and a “you’re enough as you are” present. But it vanished two months after you got it. 

Honestly, you thought your brother stole it and gave it to his soulmate. It was the major breaking point in your family. Especially since your brother never denied stealing it, and doubled down on taking it.

You open your mouth to say something to the stranger, but he’s already moved away from your table. So, instead, you watch. You watch as he joins a group of men, his brothers probably.

You watch as a woman, laughingly, smacks his shoulder, bumps him with hers, and then wraps her arms around him in a hug.

And your heart shatters.

Your gaze drops to your laptop, and the blinking cursor that seems to be taunting you. 

Of course. Of course, you’re not his soul mate. 

You knew this. You’ve known this for years.

You’re not good enough to have a soul mate.

Maybe you’re just like the others. Just as hopeless. Just as broken.

You switch tabs and stare at the hack you’ve been working on for days. All you have to do is hit enter, and Suture will have all of the information he needs for his attack.

You press enter, and hundreds of people will die.

You rest your fingers on the enter key and then pull your hand away from your computer.

You can’t do it.

You can’t sentence one hundred children to death, and one hundred others to a life of loneliness. 

Quickly, before you can think again, you delete all of your work, and close the program, ensuring that you won’t be able to recover it.

You stare at the blank screen for a moment, and then you close your laptop and slide it into your bag. 

You’ll get your bracelet back, and then you’ll leave. You know the cell on Alderaan is a lot more political than terroristic, maybe they require a slicer.

Quickly, you wrap up what’s left of your lunch and slide it into your bag as well, and then you stand and walk over to the large man.

“Excuse me.” You say, once you standing at that table.

“Can we help you?” The man with long hair asks.

You pull a small slip of paper out of your bag, the insurance claim for the bracelet. “My father had that bracelet,” You point to the bracelet around the large man’s wrist, “made for me when I was 16. Here’s the insurance claim for it. I’d like it back.”

The man picks up the paper, and looks at it, and then at the bracelet itself, before he nods, and pulls it off, “Here you go. I’ve been keeping it safe for you.” He says with a smile.

“Thanks.” You take the bracelet and the insurance claim back, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You can join us, if you like?” The man with glasses offers, “There is plenty of room.”

You don’t meet his gaze, or anyone elses, “It’s better I don’t, I think. Sorry, again. I’ll be more careful with my stuff.”

“You don’t have—” The large man starts, but you flee before he can finish his sentence. It’s better this way.

You’re less likely to get hurt.

Wrecker stares at the place his soul mate was just standing, and then turns his helpless gaze to his brothers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hunter replies, reassuringly, “But you should go after her.”

“Just be careful to not scare her.” Crosshair warns. 

“I’m not going to do it intentionally.” Wrecker bites out at his younger brother, before he gets to his feet and follows his soul mate out of the cafe. 

She’s easy enough to track, now that he knows what she looks like, and she’s not trying to avoid detection. 

He hopes she’s not just shy, he’d feel awful following her if she was running away because she was shy.

But, at the same time, Wrecker has been longing for this day since he was a cadet. Since the first time a piece of her clothing appeared in his bed. The day that bracelet appeared, mixed in with what few belongings he could lay claim to, he vowed that he would one day return it to her.

It was clear to him that someone loved her a lot.

Now he knows that it was a gift from her parents. 

Though he can’t help but wonder why she looked so sad when she took the bracelet back. Surely she should have been happy, right?

Although—

She might think that he’s not her soulmate. It’s not like he owns anything that he can afford to get lost. So if her stuff went missing, and she never found anything that wasn’t hers, it would make sense that she might think that he’s not her soulmate.

His heart aches at the thought. She must have been so lonely.

Plus, it’s not like people who don’t have soul mates are treated well. The treatment of the clones improved, a lot, as soon as people found out that they had soul mates too.

So, not only would she have felt alone…she would have been looked down on.

Poor thing. How is he supposed to apologize for that?

Wrecker trails after her, through the crowded streets, until she ducks down a much less busy street. He doesn’t mind if she knows that he’s following her, though he does slow down when an older man approaches her.

“Haze.”

“Suture.” Her voice is soft, but there’s steel underlying her voice.

Wrecker has never been more attracted to someone in his life.

“What happened? Did you finish the code?” Suture demands. 

“I finished it.”

“And?”

“I deleted it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Wrecker moves closer, suddenly having a bad feeling as to this conversation. 

“You. You deleted it.” Suture repeats.

Haze’s eyes flicker to Wrecker, and then back to Suture, “I deleted it.”

“Why?” Suture asks through a laugh, “Why would you do that? This was our great equilizer. We were finally going to make them treat us the same—”

“It wouldn’t have worked. You’d be classified as a terrorist. And I don’t help terrorists.” Haze says strongly.

Suture lets out another disbelieving laugh, and he takes several steps away from her, before he spins and his fist collides with her cheek. Haze stumbles backwards, but Suture isn’t able to get off any more blows before Wrecker is between them.

“Maybe you should try beating up on someone a little bigger than her,” Wrecker growls, not the least bit afraid of using his size to intimidate the man who just attacked his soulmate.

Suture takes a step back, and then another one. And then he laughs, “You can’t protect her everywhere.” He threatens, “I will get my pound of flesh from her one way or another.”

The tension drains from Wrecker’s shoulders as Suture runs off, and he turns to look at Haze. She’s rubbing her rapidly bruising cheek, but she still won’t look at him. 

“Haze, right?” Wrecker ducks his head slightly to try and catch her eyes, “Are you alright?”

“Haze is fine. And I’m…fine. Just fine.” She pauses, “Sorry, again. You shouldn’t have had to get involved.”

“Of course I’m going to get involved. You’re my soul mate.” Wrecker says gently.

Her head snaps up, and Wrecker’s heart aches when he sees tears in her eyes, “That’s not right. I don’t have a soul mate.” The way she says it, as though the words are being ripped from her lips, makes him want to wrap her in his arms and promise that no one will ever hurt her again. 

“I don’t think that’s right,” Wrecker replies, gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair off her face.

“It is right! There’s something wrong with me—”

“No.” Wrecker interrupts, “No, there isn’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?” She’s crying now, and this time Wrecker doesn’t stop from pulling her into his arms. Her hands curl into the thin material of his shirt, and Wrecker’s arms tighten around her.

“I’m a clone, Haze.” He whispers, “You never found anything of mine because I never had anything to lose.”

She shakes her head, as if she doesn’t believe him. 

“Hey, hey.” He brings his hands up to cup her face, “Look at me.” Her eyes are watery, and tears still roll down her face, and Wrecker still thinks she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, “What does you’re heart tell you?”

She trembles under his hands, “That’s you’re my soul mate.” She admits.

“My heart tells me the same thing.” Gently, he wipes her tears off her face, “I’ve loved you since the first time you lost a shirt. It was black and red, and I turned it into a stuffed animal so I could keep it with me everywhere.”

A shaky laugh falls from her, “I remember that shirt. I thought mom threw it away because there was a massive hole in it.”

“There was a pretty big hole in it.” Wrecker admits, and then a small smile crosses his lips, “I still have them.”

“Them?”

“Everything you’ve ever lost. I keep them in a box under my bunk. Just waiting for the day that I’d meet you, so I could return them.”

She sniffles, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s what soul mates do.” Wrecker ducks his head and lightly kisses a tear off her cheek, “So, how about we go back to the cafe? You can meet my brothers, and you can tell us about this Suture character?”

She shakes her head, “No, I need to leave. If he catches me alone, he’ll kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

She stares at him, and then, slowly, a smile crosses her lips, “I guess, you are pretty big, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” Wrecker leans in, “I’m also pretty protective.”

She looks surprised, and then a startled giggle falls from her lips. “Alright. I suppose I’d like to meet your brothers.”

Wrecker beams at her, “You’re going to be the happiest soul mate ever. You’ve had enough sadness for one lifetime.”

Haze ducks her head, “Yeah. I guess I have.”

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[yuriisclumsy]

Love's Dance

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,234

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here) | Part 3 (coming soon!)

Authors note: I'm feeding you all good with this.

Four days have passed since I arrived here. 

I spend most of my time gathering intel and familiarizing myself with the place. One thing I noticed was the lack of underground operations here in the Henituse’s territory. The Count made sure to eradicate all sorts of dangerous activities for his people and family’s sake. 

Gotta give it to him, he did a spectacular job. The only underground activity—If you can call that—I was able to find were a few gangs in the semi-slums that didn’t have much strength. 

Aside from this, I also investigated and searched for the people on the list. Good news, I only have one last person to check. Bad news… 

It’s the Count’s son. 

“*Sigh…* Why does fate hate me so much?” I asked, looking up at the sky. Covering my face from the sun's rays with my hand, I search for writings, a sign…anything that could answer my question.  

“...oh, who am I kidding? Fate won’t respond to me, even if I were to beg for it.” 

Walking down a street full of vendors trying to sell products, my mind wandered to how I'll manage to get close to Cale Henituse, Count Deruth’s oldest son—and possibly his successor. 

A loud voice interrupted my state of mind, much to my dismay. It came from a woman standing on a podium. She had gathered a crowd with her excessive yelling; both adults and children were listening excitedly. 

Hmmm. Seems interesting My feet moved on their own, trying to get me as close as possible to this small curiosity. 

Getting a good listen at the girl, she seems to be announcing something. 

“Everyone! There will be a Festival in the next upcoming days!” The girl yelled excitedly. 

“A festival?”  

Having a festival means there is going to be more security, and knowing the Count’s record…yeah, no This was turning out to be a real nuisance. I don’t want to deal with that while doing this mission. I better find a plan to get to Henituse before the festival. But how…?  

Just as I turned to leave, the girl shouted again. 

“The Henituses’ are hosting this festival and are going to be in attendance through the whole thing! So don’t miss out on it!” 

This! I shot my head towards the girl, having a few stares at me. But I could care less. What is more important is the fact that I can use this festival to my advantage!  

If I can get him to mingle with the people, it’ll save me a lot of time! I grinned like a madman. 

“Look mama! That lady is smiling weirdly!” A kid pointed at me. 

“Don’t point,” the mother quickly grabbed him and walked away while staring at me weirdly. 

 Realizing I was acting out of line, I left the area to stop making an embarrassment out of myself. 

Ah! There is no time to waste! I need to come up with a plan fast! Otherwise, I'll lose this once in a lifetime opportunity. Thank you fate, I'll never doubt you again! 

I made my way to the room that was rented out for me. I did not notice the older gentleman in front of me and bumped into him, causing some of his groceries to fall. Luckily, he managed to catch all the items before they fell on the floor. 

“Oh, I am really sorry!” I vowed while apologizing, I went around him and stayed on my path. 

The older gentlemen stared at me until I faded into nothing. 

“...” 

… 

“So, there are two high class agents currently in the city?” Cale asked. 

“Yes.” Choi Han confirmed. Ron was right next to him when they made the discovery, so they went straight back to report. “One of the agents has been living in the city for a few years with little activity, the other recently arrived.” 

“From what we gathered, the newer agent is most likely the one assigned to whatever mission they gave out.” Said Ron right after Han finished. 

“Those are a few fries! I could go right now and destroy them!” A young dragon spoke while playing with his food, he smashed a cookie signifying what he’ll do. 

No, thank you. You’ll just destroy the city while doing so. Cale sweated at this image. 

“One of them is a bit odd if I have to say.” Ron spoke. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When me and the punk were searching, we ran across one of them. She seemed to be happily skipping while putting up bombs.” Ron said with a smile. 

You call that odd? She seems to fit right in with those weirdos. Cale thought. 

“What Ron said is true. She is really weird.” Choi Han agreed.

 

“What is odd about that? If anything, she matches Arm’s whole craze-quota.” 

“She was placing bombs in abandoned homes and alleys; places people didn’t frequent. Don’t you think this is a bit strange?” Ron finally said. 

Cale grabbed his chin in thought.

That is strange. Usually, Arm does not care for casualties. As long as they’re plans were met, anyone could go up in flames… Still, her placing bombs while skipping is concerning. 

“...keep an eye on her and take Raun and the cats with you. I want to dismantle the bombs to be safe.” Cale ordered his subordinates. 

“Yes, master Cale.” 

“Yes, young master.” 

“You ready big sister?” 

“Hm! Can’t wait to teach the youngest how this is done!” 

“I’ll show you, human, that Raun is the greatest!” 

“Good. Now go.” Cale dismissed the group. 

… 

They really just sent me on a suicide mission I thought, looking over the information I had on Cale as I sat in a desk in complete defeat. There were papers scattered all over the room; they covered walls, floor, and bed—there were even some in the bathroom. It wasn’t a pretty site. 

They were detailed plans I had been brainstorming, but so far, all the routes had flaws and countermeasures from the opposing party. I grabbed my hair in frustration. 

Cale’s party consists of powerful individuals: from skilled butlers to beast men. All beings I could not take down on my own, heck, I don’t think even with competent members of Arm, would I, in a million years, take them down. I can’t even hold a weapon correctly. 

“Agh…mmHGHMGHMM” I hit my head against the wooden desk. The despair I was feeling was immense. 

“Maybe it isn’t too late to run away yet…” I say hopeful, before turning on my rationality. “Oh, who am I kidding!? They’ll find me if I run away!” I cry out. 

I glance at the papers on the floor, but one gets my attention. The festival flier had beautiful dancers covering its frame along with some instruments. Flipping the paper to its back gives some information on one of the events of the festival: every day of the festival, right after sunset, citizens and guests can take part in a dance. 

I don’t get how they can plan all of this in a matter of days…the Henituses’ are incredible. Wait a second. If I can get the count’s son to dance, then I’ll be able to get to him! It still needs polishing, but I can combine this with a scraped plan. 

“Looks like I need to contact Agent Lance for a local dress.” 

…

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Master-List

#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic #choi han #deruth henituse #on and hong #ron mulan #ron #raon miru

[love-note-musings]

For the Emoji drabble!

🏹 + Leviathan ??

Have a good day! ^^

╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ Obey Me! Leviathan x Reader

from this emoji prompt list: 🏹 | waking up from a nightmare

✩₊˚.⋆please ignore that this literally was sitting in my drafts for literal years lmao☾⋆⁺₊✧

Envy does as envy knows best. It festers, becomes symptomatic, viral, and infectious. Left untreated, it can leave a nasty scar where there’s supposed to be something tender. And Levi, out of all people, knows this the best. He’s the most infected out of them all.

He couldn’t escape the sensation that he was the worst choice for you even during sleep. The idea that you had merely settled for him out of pity clung onto him like a leech, regardless of the assurances you offered him. Levi knew that constantly reaffirming him was tiring, he knew that it was annoying, but he couldn’t shake this lurching feeling off of him.

Dreams lived to affirm his fears. He could have forgiven you for cheating, why wouldn’t you? He could have forgiven you for falling out of love, for choosing someone else—in fact, he expected it. Out of everything, he could have forgiven you for almost everything you could throw his way if it meant he could stay by your side a little while longer. So, while the amalgamation of his fears constructed itself in front of him, Levi had already forgiven you.

There was a red tint on your face as your brows furrowed, eyes barreling down onto his figure. Hurling insult after insult all the while yelling at the top of your lungs, Levi could only look up at you as if you were a god, listening as you affirmed all of the negative thoughts he had about himself. If you out of all people could see it, then it must be true, right? When he could see how happy and joyful you looked with others, he couldn’t help but compare the smile you gave to him versus the one you gave to your friends.

Levi didn’t notice that he had woken up with tears staining the corners of his eyes, or how they dripped down off his cheek and onto the pillow beneath his head. All he could feel was the gapping feeling inside his chest and the way his lungs stung. He didn’t notice that he was heaving until you placed your hand on his chest.

“Shh, I got you,” you assured while sitting him up on your bed. using your thumb you wiped off some of the tears flooding his face and pulled him close.

He was hesitant even as he felt your arms holding him. Slowly, he crumbled into your embrace, resting his head against your chest so he could feel your heartbeat. His arms shakily held onto you while he hid his tear stained face. You offered him such comfort and softness even when his own subconscious gave him none.

“What kind of nightmare has gotten you so sad, dear?”

Levi found it hard to explain to you something so otherworldly, something so contrary to your demeanor. A nightmare - because that’s all it was. And because you weren’t the amalgamation he constructed in his mind. You weren’t some cruel human who would pluck at his heartstrings and drag them along like a dog on the leash. This was the real you. Your arms were warm, your gaze was soft. In the moment, it felt silly to even imagine you as some sort of poised bully.

Yet, that image always came back as some sort of lurking insecurity. You had certainly done nothing to give him such vivid fears. More importantly, how could he explain this to you all in the dead of night?

"Can you just. . I mean, we can talk about it later. Can you just hold me, like this, for now?" Levi managed to stutter out while he willed to calm his beating heart.

All you did was smile at him. "Yeah, of course, Levi. You want me to put on a show for background noise while you go back to sleep?"

"Sounds good." He answered, more than content to stay right here with you.

Neither of you even seemed to notice that most of your blankets and pillows had already been kicked off the bed.

#obey me shall we date #obey me levi x reader #obey me angst #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x mc #obey me brothers #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me x you #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me oneshots #levi x reader #emoji prompt #leviathan x reader #obey me fandom

[angstyteenpoems]

A clip of a fanfic I’m writing where Todd and Neil reconnect after years

Words: 501 Rating: Mature (mention of pornography) Pairing: M/M Todd Anderson/Neil Perry

They’re driving on the road, Neil’s hands on the steering wheel. The car hums as it works its way down the paved roads. Neil and Todd are both silent. Todd doesn’t know if it’s awkward or comfortable. Anyway, Neil breaks the silence.

“Do you have a wife or girlfriend?” Neil asks, his grip on the steering wheel tightening

Todd stares out the window and considers his best possible response and settles on one.

“Never really had an interest in girls.”

Todd’s shoulders tense up, and he doesn’t dare to look at Neil. He doesn’t know what sort of gaze will meet him.

“Oh.” Neil says, pausing for a bit.

“Figures” Neil says nonchalantly

Todd turns to look at Neil who is just smiling at him.

“What do you mean figures! I didn’t even know until a few years back!” Todd says, his voice going higher as he gets more worked up

“Oh come on! You were going around reading and idolizing Walt Whitman, Oscar Wilde and Emily Dickinson, the signs were right there!” Neil says laughing, still driving down the road .

“Everyone reads them! You just listed some of the most famous poets!” Todd says, smiling a bit.

“Yeah Todd, everyone reads them but you actually read them, a few do that!” Todd is about to say something back but Neil doesn’t let him

“A few know what In The Forest was about after one skim.” Neil says, his hands have loosened around the wheel.

“I can’t believe you.” Todd says smiling and leans back in his chair.

It’s silent for a while but Neil picks up the conversation again.

“And it wasn’t just that.”

“What?” Todd says, a bit surprised

“You had this magazine…” Neil continues, he turns a bit red and so does Todd as he realizes what he’s talking about.

“Oh god! No don’t say it!” Todd says smiling burying his face in his hands.

“Physique Pictorial, July 1959” Neil says still blushing but laughing

“It was a joke gift from Jeff! He said it was fit for a poof like me. Sad to say he was right about that.” Todd says frantically explaining and also laughing at the absurdity of them talking about his gay porn magazine that he hid under his bed.

“What did I say, the signs were right there!” Neil says, almost victorious.

Caught in the heat of the moment, Todd fires back “Oh you have no right to talk! You were always gushing about Marlon Brando and his “acting talent” I probably shouldn’t even mention but you were obsessed with Shakespeare. You always said he inspired you. Inspire my ass.” Todd says laughing. He expects a laugh from Neil or a clever comeback or anything else than what he’s met with.

Neil’s tightened his grip on the wheel again and his whole body is tense.

Neither speaks, Todd quickly turns to look at the road again.

“Todd, I’m married.” Is Neil’s only response.

“I know.” Todd says, softly and quietly

“Good” Neil says.

In The Forest by Oscar Wilde

Out of the mid-wood's twilight

Into the meadow's dawn,

Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,

Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,

And his shadow dances along,

And I know not which I should follow,

Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!

O Nightingale, catch me his strain!

Else moonstruck with music and madness

I track him in vain!

#dead poets society #dps fandom #anderperry #dps #neil perry #dead poets fandom #todd anderson #neil and todd #dps boys #dps fanfiction #dead poets fanfic #todd and neil #neil x todd #todd x neil

[raveartts]

almost forgot about goretober this year 😳

#I don't know if I'll do anything for it #I may still be ✨ recovering ✨ from the ✨ surgery ✨ #and it always stresses me out rather than being fun tbh #and I never get more than 5-10 days done anyways #and there's no official prompt list so there's already stress in picking which to use #I COULD do inktober #but idk I think their prompts are wayyyyy too up for interpretation #my uncreative ass can NOT deal with prompts as vague as 'ring' #yeah... looking at this year's list and it's just like. #I am not inspired enough to know what to do with any of these #they're so vague and I know you're MEANT to interpret it into a drawing #but ough. creativity is just. no. #idk maybe I'll try a couple prompts from either event #and just not force myself to do them all/in order #even just a single drawing is fine #rave ramblees

[cozylittleartblog]

my ACEN tip gimmick has been fulfilled, aaand i got a little carried away with it. I haven't had time to draw for myself (or at all, really??) in like two weeks, i needed to Doodle and Have Fun. ... also, i did not think he would get so many donuts. people understand the value of giving treats to fictional characters :) its what he deserves

also shoutout to snazzyskeletons who had the same Tip Theme i did. we took pictures with our tip jars together. they are adorable v

i'm glad their vash got some donut money too :) 🍩 please check them out if you want some cute trigun stuff

#trigun #trigun 98 #art #doodles #trigun fanart #fanart #acen 2024 #vash #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #i get paid and vash gets um. tummy hurty i guess. look donuts are like strawberries you gotta eat that shit IMMEDIATELY ok #i love you people who gave vash donut money. i love you people who gave me little trinkets. i especially love you #vash cosplayer with a giant prop gun full of teenie tiny clay donuts. thank you for the donut i put it by my mini vash funko pop #i met so many nice trigun fans. all of you are so NICE ; - ; LOVELY fandom over here. and so many good cosplays #i saw wolfwood. i dont mean i saw a wolfwood cosplayer i mean i Saw Wolfwood It Was Him In Real Life I Swear #i dont think vash ever actually wears his glasses up on his head like that but i think it looks nice so i will keep doing it #he has cool glasses. they should be seen. cool glasses and eyelashes. mwah #i have a somewhat cool wolfwood illustration idea in my head but i just haven't had time to work on it at all #and i want to draw the insurance girls !!!!!! AAAA. MILLY. MILLY I LOVE YOU !!!!!!!! MILLYYYY #GOD i have so much art to work on. they need to invent a days with more hours in it #yeah i'm making steady and good progress through my to do-list but I Need To Get Through It Faster #anyway its 6am i need to schedule this and go to bed already #one more thank you to everyone who stopped by and said hello!!! ACEN was such a blast i hope i get in the AA again next year

[ectoplasmer]

you guys ever grab your f/o’s face and just *forehead kiss* *forehead kiss* *forehead kiss* *forehea

#this was originally phrased for platonic f/os but i then proceeded to think about doing this with my boyfriends and. yeah #anyway #HEY i finally picked back up gx because i got bored lol #and because. lowkey. judai randomly popping up in my dreams spooked me enough to remember to continue watching it >_< #i am reminded of why he got instantly put on the platonic list despite me barely knowing him lol #literally just. golden retriever #which is so so funny when you look at my two other platonic f/os #like on one hand we have the serious and more mature beyond my years #and then we have the high energy positivity fiends #if i still listed my hs f/os on my list you would see more obviously what i mean lol #sometimes you just want to smother your friend in a dumb display of affection u_u #anyway. #hello #tbh… kissing melv (and technically yb) right where the eye of wedjat would go… <333 #self ship #selfship #selfshipping #self shipping #f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #self ship community #selfshipping community #platonic: judai #quartzshipping #rainy.file

[moeblob]

Alright I told someone I would give propaganda for these two so here we go. As a warning, I didn't play mobile or Re-Mind soooooooo. Yeah there's that. I know they're apparently involved in past stuff but shhh.

So first off, everyone's weapon is super useful! Except theirs. Which I always thought was really funny? Even in Re:CoM Zexion's book was more direct than these two. I really enjoyed them just as the most indirect fighters? And figured they'd be pretty chill and after playing KH2 as a kid I'm like. I think Luxord would be most tolerable to music while vibing. He could play Solitaire or something while Demyx played music and possibly chatted. Therefore, my younger self was like "it's perfect".

ALSO CONSIDERING THEIR NUMBERS! And the line in KH3 during the scene where Demyx is like "yup I got benched", they've probably got a history. However, the number they get originally is supposed to be the order they joined. So with Marluxia and Larxene obviously tied together in the past, all I can think of is these two just being absolute bums wandering around pre-Organization and just hitch hiking their way into a cult. Which is also REALLY funny to me because what if they joined at the same time but Demyx got to be IX and Luxord is X.

Demyx would hold his rank over his head for the dumbest stuff (in my head canons of the past).

Like there's so many things we specifically do not know about these two so basically, until I'm proven absolutely incorrect in game (which might have happened and I just don't know) ! I think they'd be a good match.

And I mean, it's also just (gestures) LOOK AT HOW CUTE THEY ARE. Great designs and I think that's good enough for me!

#kingdom hearts #demyx #luxord #i really just looked at these losers when i played kh2 on ps2 and was like wow they should kiss #and now im many years older and i am still like wow they should kiss #also i was telling my sister i was trying to come up with propaganda doodles and im like #yeah its two guys what more would the kh fandom need ya know #and she looks at me and goes did you really just say they're two guys thats enough #and i was ??? YEAH?????? FOR KH? theres like ten girls and ten games what more do i get to work with #and she sat there listing games in the series (she hasn't played any but she watched me play 1 and 2) #and counted eight and then i listed some more and she was like ok you know what thats fair #but that said she said the funniest thing ever that i NEED to draw but its too late for tonight #so you guys will get more of them at some point #also im still amused that luxord in kh3 appears after demyx says hes benched #and proceeds to say WELL AT LEAST I WASNT BENCHED like super casually and demyx just ouch you were listening thats rude #like they're supposed to be vessels and yet they still manage to have a bicker moment over importance of roles

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso × Unconventional Drinking Implements

#if i had a nickel for every time nano drank out of a trophy id have two nickels. that's not a lot but its weird it happened twice #dont ask me if theres more i didnt have the mental capacity to look up all his podium pics...theres 20 years worth #but if you do have more somehow miraculousy do of course hit me up #this is one of these things i think that youd have to experience by watching a lot of races bcs finding it by keywords is impossible imo #though i did look up various trophies and now i want to make a tier list of trophies by drinkablity 😭 #but yeah some people in the tags of the pics i posted were like 'he did exactly what i wanted to do![drink from the big cup basically]' #so this is like: hey! not the first time hes done it 🤭 #but like if these are the only two times hes done it thats hilarious #bcs its been 18 yrs so was he suddenly like 'oh my god wait i just remembered what i can do with this' #but like the 2005 is the wcc win so it makes sense why he did smth so over the top #but this one i really really feel like he let the impulsive thoughts win and was just 'this looks like a giant cup....' #not pictured: flavio also drinking from the trophy. he was so indulgent of his boy 🥹 #also i wonder if theres footage of him pouring in the champagne in 2023 cause i didnt even know he drank from it until i was looking at pic #cause thats my fav thing about the 2005 one is watching him trying to aim and pour it from way too high hahaha #oh also there is the brazil 2005 gp as well but he doesnt directly drink from it so i dont think it fits well here #but at the same time he really is looking at trophies like 'hmmm how well would this work as a cup' #f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso #2023 dutch gp #2005 chinese gp #fa14 #we do a little bit of f1 #formula one