#Hunter reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Deerboy Yan who tries to get himself caught in cannibal hunter reader's nets so they'll take him back to their home where they'll hopefully have their way with him and keep him as their pet-

"Ahhh- Help! I was walking home all by myself when I felt into this net. It's getting dark soon- Somebody, please save me."

The switch of a pocket blade slices through the still night air. His ears twitch as a twig snaps somewhere in the darkness brooding over his shoulder. Exhilaration draws at the corner of his lips as a voice rasps out- eerily calming as it is dreadfully familar. Like a second kiss with death.

"These traps aren't for you, Deer."

A single cut is all it takes for the net to come crashing to the forest floor.

"Not enough meat on your bones for me. You aren't exactly my preferred choice of meat to start off with."

The deer claws his way out of the net's opening. The drop wasn't too steep, and he needed to act quick. He's been in enough of your safer traps to know his way out - nine times out of ten. Dragging his nails and body through the dirt, the net's rope tangles around his hooves as he struggles. The hybrid tries to kick it off till near exhaustion- flopping onto his back as he kicks his tied legs in the air for you to see.

"But look at what how clumsy I am. It would be so easily for you to drag me back to your house like this.... Using me for hours till I can't fight back anymore when you finally decide to free me."

You turn to walk away.

"You know I think I'd be good bait for other humans."

You stop dead in your tracks.

"A weak, helpless deer chained up in that old slaughter house. "Help, Help! They're going to kill and eat me next. Please, won't somebody save me?" Pretty convincing, right? Just think about all the meat you could have - if you just take me home with you."

A squeal of joy escapes the hybrid's lips as you grab him by the antler's - pulling him along in the direction of your cabin.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Teachers Pet

So, entering into a new fandom with this piece. It's gonna be a mini-series..maybe...honestly who knows. This is set in the Conjuring Universe with some tweaks, and the tweaks being that more then just ghosts and demonic entities exist, think of it as a bit of a Supernatural crossover without the characters. It will be a Ed/Lorraine/femreader fic, it's bit of instant love. Femreader is a hunter, and has some physic abilities that they use to assist when hunting supernatural creatures.

Warnings: Sexual undertones and heavy making out, brief mention of cheating - but not the three members of the throuple.

Masterlist

Prompt List

Chapter Two

The Teachers

You could hear some of the audience whispering around you, the scepticism in their words and tones had you rolling your eyes. If they didn’t believe in the spiritual or demonic why even come to this lecture. The Warrens were well known for being experts in the subjects and had been involved in many cases around the country. You had kept an eye on their work as often as you could, reading every article and watching every news or talk show episode with them on it. But you had never seen them in person and you were beyond excited.

You watched the two of them walk onto the stage and your breathe caught. Your heart raced and you could hear your blood pumping in your ears. They were even more stunning in person, and Lorraine, you could almost feel something surrounding her. You had always been attune to others auras and to spirits. You weren’t a clairvoyant like Lorraine, you had no visions and when you touched things you never felt the emotions connected to the item or saw what happened moments before. But you were something.

 You tried to pay attention to what the two of them were saying but you found yourself focusing more on their lips moving, their body language and how they interacted with each other more than the content of the lecture. You were currently busy staring at Ed, thinking you were covered as just another face in the crowd but the next moment Ed’s eyes seemed to find yours. Your eyes stayed locked together, as Lorraine took over talking. You felt your cheeks start to heat, as Ed continued to look at you, his lips slowly changing from the smile he had had the majority of the lecture to a relaxed smirk. Lorraine walked up beside him, her eyes following his line of sight and caught your eyes as well. Just like her husband she maintained eye contact, her smile becoming soft and gentle as her eyes seemed to penetrate right through you. That’s when you finally broke eye contact looking down at your lap as your face flushed deeply. Your fingers fiddling with the rings you were wearing.

You forced your eyes to stay on your lap the rest of the lecture and even through the question segment. You didn’t want to get caught staring at the married couple again. Everyone started shuffling out of the lecture hall, talking amongst themselves, you allowed yourself a moment before standing to trail along behind the others. You refused to look back at Ed and Lorraine as you left the room, breathing normally for the first time since they had stepped onto the stage. There was no way to explain or describe the feeling that those two produced in you, it was like they became the centre of your world. The thing that allowed you to feel others, was drawn to them, it was the strongest it had ever been. Which was why you could feel that they were walking towards you and they were almost out of the classroom, part of you wanted to push through the other people and get out of the building but your instincts raged against that thought, making your head hurt. The normal sign that you were choosing the wrong option, so instead you slowed your steps allowing the crowd to wash past you ensuring that you were practically the only ones in the hallway when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your body shivered at the feeling, as a shock radiated from where her hand had touched.

“Hello,” Lorraine smiled at you, you pouted a little when you noticed that you were shorter than her. Ed and Lorraine shared a look, a heat in their eyes as they took in your lips pushing forward before you quickly forced a calm look over your face.

“Hi,” you said eyes shifting between the two quickly, unsure who to focus on and not wanting to stare at either of them for too long. The pain in your head had disappeared, and in replace of it was a feeling of light, like you were flying almost.

“We noticed you in the lecture, you seemed very interested but we noticed you didn’t have any questions,” Ed said, an eyebrow raised. You couldn’t quite determine the tone of his voice, but it was nothing like the one he used in the lecture.

“Oh, um,” you had never told anyone before that you had had experiences with spirits, the demonic and other creatures of the supernatural. Learning how to deal with them, and help others but you had stayed under the radar not wanting to gain the attention of the Church.

“It’s alright,” Lorraine smiled her hand squeezing your arm, it was odd, normally you didn’t like people touching you but the feel on Lorraine’s hand on your arm calmed you, and that was something you didn’t like. Her eyes were kind and gentle but still had the feeling of seeing right through to your soul. “You can tell us. I feel a similarity between us, don’t you?”

You sighed rubbing the back of your neck, knowing that Lorraine could sense the thing that made you different, just as you could sense it in her. The sound of voices drew your attention to the hallway over the shoulder of the demonologists and you clamped up, drawing further into yourself.

“Perhaps not here,” Ed suggested. “We could grab some coffees and go to the park that isn’t far from here?”

You bit your lip as you considered your options, the light flying feeling you had got stronger when you thought about going with them and the pain in your head returned when you thought about denying the suggestion. You winced reaching up to rub your forehead and quickly brought your thoughts back to going with them.

“Alright,” you nodded ignoring them sharing a look of concern at your wince.

--

The three of you were walking through the park, aiming for a table on the far side that was away from everyone else that was in the park. You were walking in the middle, having tried to be on the outside but Ed had swiftly moved to your other side the moment that you had left the university and all the way to the coffee shop and to the park. You had also tried to pay for your own drink but again Ed had moved swiftly and ordered his and Lorraine’s drink and paid for all of them before you could pull out the money for your drink. They had made small talk during the walk but you had found it difficult to speak to them, the pressure of what you had to tell them was too much. But you hadn’t felt any pain in your head so you figured you were still doing the right thing.

You sat on one side of the table and Ed and Lorraine sat on the other side, both of them placing their forearms on the table and leaning forward. Not necessarily in your space but definitely letting you know that they were paying attention to you.

“So, I didn’t asks questions because I already knew a lot  of what you were talking about,” you explained with no prompting you didn’t want to give yourself a chance to back out, you had in the past ignored the pain in your head and it eventually disappeared but it honestly wasn’t worth it. You knew these two wouldn’t call you crazy but it was still worrisome. Especially if they decided to go to the Church. But there is no way your instincts would tell you to go with them if doing so would endanger you.

“Have you had experience with spiritual beings?” Lorraine asked tilting her head to the side a little.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I…feel things, not quite like you, Lorraine, and I have…dealt with beings that have been causing havoc with people.  I know the Church frowns upon such things but why should people have to continue to suffer if I can help.”  

“That can be very dangerous,” Ed started, his brow furrowed. You felt a flare of anger but also something different at his words. Anger that he felt the need to tell you that what you were doing was dangerous, it was almost condescending. And another part of you, hummed. Happy that someone was concerned for you, it had been a long time since anyone had thought about you enough to be worried.  

“I am well aware however, it is far safer for a person like me to do it then you,” you pointed out defensively. “You do not have…let’s say extra senses. I do. Plus my instincts have never let me down, they have a way of telling me if I am making the wrong decision.”

“She does have a point, Ed,” Lorraine laughed, poking her husband in the arm grinning cheekily at him when he looked at her. He rolled his eyes before planting a kiss on her cheek. Your body warmed at the smile on her face when she looked back at you and winked. “How does it work?”

“Well, when I choose the correct option I get this light, almost flying feeling,” you had never had to explain that feeling to anyone before so do so now it was difficult. “And when I even so much as think about the wrong option I get a pain in my head, and it stays until I change my mind. Sometimes when I decide to ignore it the pain can last for several days.”

“So coming with us was the correct choice?” Ed asked, his eyebrow raised again and a teasing glint in his eyes. His lips were quirked into the same little smirk he had when he had caught your eyes in the lecture.

“How do you know I didn’t just decide to ignore the pain?” raising your eyebrow you found your own lips quirking up into a teasing grin.

“You looked in pain until you agreed to come with us,” Ed responded, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before he sent a look to Lorraine who seemed to soften even more. The humming in your body slowed to a softer hum from what it had been, the light feeling that normally only stays in your body for a few minutes after you follow through on the correct option had stayed, burning brighter than normal and slowly moving out from the centre of your body.  

“I guess you have me there,” you muttered pouting again, you caught Lorraine’s eyes dropping to your lips this time.

“What else do you feel? You said it wasn’t quite like my feelings,” Lorraine inched her hands towards yours that were resting on the table but you moved back. That connection was not something you wanted, you knew Lorraine would be able to sense something and you didn’t want to know if that was a good thing or not.

“Yes, I don’t have visions or feel emotions that are connected to items or memories,” you shrugged. “But I am attuned to peoples auras, which is helpful when people are being targeted by the demonic or spirits. And I tend to be able to sense even the smallest presence of the supernatural creatures.”

“That would be incredibly helpful,” Ed nodded.

“It is, and I can’t explain how but it tends to help me deal with them as well,” you continued. “I have created ways in which to handle the supernatural creatures.”

“You keep saying supernatural creatures?” Lorraine asked, confusion clear as day on her face.

“You believe in spirits and the demonic, surely it can’t be too much of a stretch to think that other creatures of myth exist?” you teased them both.

“We have never encountered them,” Ed stated, a hint of the tone he used to lecture entering his tone.

“And yet they still exist, you do tend to only take on cases that the Church asks you too, and they only hear about possessions, and demonic,” you rolled her eyes. “And I also hate to break it to you but demons are capable of a lot more than what you realise.”

“And you exorcism them?” Lorraine appeared to be getting more and more concerned.

“If I can,” you nod. “There are ways to trap them and limit their power. You know, I am not the only one who is out there helping those that the Church ignores.”

“The Church-” Ed’s tone had become as defensive as yours had been moments before.

“Only takes on cases that they are able to get proof on, and only look at potential hauntings or demonic presences,” you interrupted leaning forward getting passionate. “And they don’t even consider looking at anything else. I have helped people who have gone to the Church and been turned away, no-one even went to look. And don’t even get me started on the fact that they are less likely to help those who haven’t been baptised or don’t go to church.”

Lorraine was studying your face, you knew that she was most likely sensing something. Another clairvoyant you had met once mentioned that when you feel any emotion with an intensity, this presence tends to appear alongside yours. You were cautious when you asked them what it felt like. They had said that it was different, almost like nothing they had sensed before, it wasn’t dark or malicious but in the same breathe it wasn’t light either. It was there but they mentioned feeling a strong sense of protectiveness from the presence.

“Don’t worry about that,” you waved your hand at her.

“Worry about what?” Ed asked looking between the two of you.

“She has a presence,” Lorraine’s voice was distant as she was still focusing on you and whatever the presence was.

“And before you even suggest it I am not possessed or being tormented by a demonic spirit,” you drawled tone blank. “A clairvoyant I met a few years ago sensed the same thing you are when I got angry. They said it was neither malicious or light, it merely protective of me and just there, and they weren’t worried and neither am I.”

Ed closed his mouth, a huff of amusement leaving him as you correctly predicted what his next concern would be. He looked to his wife for confirmation, and saw that she wasn’t worried more curious than anything. His eyes switched back to you and scanned the part of your body that he could see. You were a very attractive young woman, maybe around ten years younger than Lorraine and nearly twelve years younger than him. He knew Lorraine thought the same if the way she was with you was any indication but he knew his wife and he knew she was draw to you and not just for the fact that you had similar abilities. For he was drawn to you as well.

“Alright I will concede the point I wanted to make about the Church,” Ed turned the conversation back to the point before it had been sidetracked. “Other than your gifts how do you know how to deal with these supernatural creatures?”

“From others, there are a number of, they call themselves hunters, that had gathered information from trial and error I suppose and they pass it on,” you explained. “Some keep journals to pass on when they decide to “retire” and whenever we meet each other we give ways to communicate.”

“How do others not know of these things?” Lorraine had finally refocused on the conversation and not on the presence inside as it had disappeared once your passion and anger had simmered down.

“We don’t allow it, we deal with them without any fanfare, we don’t discuss it with anyone who isn’t already aware to some degree of the supernatural,” you took the final sip of your drink. “It’s better that way, prevents a panic. I mean can you imagine what would happen if people actually believed in demons and ghouls and vampires?”

“Nothing good I imagine,” Ed agreed reaching out to grab your cup and Lorraine’s before standing up to throw them in the bin that was closest to your table. Leaving you alone with Lorraine.

“You don’t want me to touch you,” it was a statement rather than a question.

“It’s complicated,” you sighed rubbing the back of your neck. “The last time a clairvoyant touched me my instincts flared, they didn’t like him touching me. And I also don’t really like knowing that that touch can give you a deeper insight into me.”

“I touched your shoulder before-”

“Over my shirt,” you interrupted again. “I think clairvoyant gifts only work on me if they touch my skin. My clothing provides a bit of a barrier…I think. And I did get a bit of an electric shock.”

“Hm, that is an interesting theory,” Lorraine smiled. “Before my husband comes back, if we needed your assistance on a case, would you be willing to help us?”

“On the condition that the Church never knows about me,”

“Of course,” Lorraine agreed. “We’d keep you completely away from that side of things.”

“Will your husband agree?” you raised an eyebrow. “I know how to completely disappear, so if there is-”

“I wouldn’t tell a soul,” Ed’s voice interrupted coming from your side as he took a seat beside you instead of back with his wife.

 You inched a little away from him, under the guise of giving him more space. You dutifully ignored all the happy feelings his presence brought up in you. And you also ignored the warmth you could feel from his body as he followed you, not quite touching you but also leaving little space between your bodies. You risked a glance at his face only to find him already watching you, his blue eyes were captivating. You flushed as you tore your gaze away to find Lorraine watching you again, her own blue eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing look but you noticed that she didn’t seem put off by any of it. You cheeks heated further as Lorraine continued to watch you and you could feel Ed’s gaze on you as well, the combination of their attention was both too much and not enough. Lorraine’s gaze was soft but you could feel a heat behind it especially when you poked your tongue out to wet your lips, her eyes tracing the movement.

You quickly thought about leaving and when no pain followed you stood up startling the two demonologists with your movement. The light flying feeling you had dimmed leaving behind a cold emptiness inside. But that was preferable to the pain and to the humming that your body was doing in their presence.

“I need to get going,” you declared stepping over the seat and striding away. 

“Wait!” Ed called after you. Your body froze without your say so, the empty feeling starting to fill with warmth again. You refused to turn back around however your fingers tangling together in-front of you.

“We have a case that we may need your help on,” Lorraine started. “We could discuss it over lunch?” Lorraine had moved closer to you, standing to your side and trying to catch your eye. You hung your head and sighed.

“Tomorrow?” you asked. “I do actually have some errands to run today.”

“Tomorrow,” Ed agreed.

Lorraine past you a folded piece of paper. “Our address, come by anytime after 11.”

Nodding you started walking again the cold empty had gotten smaller once you had agreed to meet up with the married couple again. You truly had no idea what to make of your instincts and why they were reacting the way they were, nor did you have any idea what make of how the two demonologists had acted around you. Hopefully, lunch tomorrow would get all of this shit sorted but you wouldn’t be surprised if it only made it worse.

--

“She is certainly something else,” Ed muttered watching you walk away, Lorraine noticed how his eyes seemed dropped once or twice to watch your hips sway before he tore them away.

“Yes, I did rather notice how she seemed to captivate you from the moment you saw her,” Lorraine teased.

“Honey, as if you can talk,” Ed wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked off in the opposite direction. “I saw you watching her lips while she talked.”

“We did always have the same taste,” Lorraine grinned. “You want her.”

Ed was aware of the fact that his wife wasn’t asking, she was telling him. He squeezed her tight to his side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“So do you,” Ed responded. The two of them were incredibly in sync with each other, knowing the other well enough to know when they wanted something.

“It has been a while since we found someone that interested the both of us enough,”

“Shall we test the waters?”

“I think we can be certain that she is interested in the both of us if her adorable flush was anything to go by,” Lorraine chanced a look over her shoulder and was rewarded with one last look at you before you disappeared around the corner. “Maybe we can be not as subtle, in testing the waters tomorrow.”

“She doesn’t like touch too much, but we can come up with a way,” Ed grinned.

--

“Why couldn’t I have been born without this shit?” you asked yourself as you sat in your car outside the Warren’s house.

It was a beautiful house in a beautiful suburb, which just reinforced the fact that this was a married couple, with a daughter. You thumped your head against the steering wheel before the tugging that had started in your chest grew stronger and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. The humming started back up and kept getting stronger the closer you got. As did your light flying feeling, which told you that you were doing the right thing. The door opened just as you reached it, you didn’t know if that meant they were watching out a window or if Lorraine just knew that you had arrived.

“Welcome!” Lorraine happily welcomed you in to their home. She moved towards you before she pulled back. “Please come in.”

You tilted your head as you realised she probably wanted to hug you but remembered that you weren’t always comfortable with it. But the humming seemed to deflate a little when she didn’t hug you. You smiled at her and it wasn’t as forced as you thought it would be, you also couldn’t help but notice how the clothing she wore today hugged her curves quite nicely.

“Hi, thank you,” you were again a little soft spoken, it irked you a little that two people could have this effect on you, when nothing ever had before. “You have a lovely home.”

The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside, there was signs that they had truly made this house their home. There were books and records everywhere. Photos of them and a young girl who you assumed was their daughter and an older woman, who looked like Lorraine so you assumed was her mother. You noticed paintings on the wall and upon closer inspection saw Ed’s name signed down the bottom of all of them.

“Oh my, these are,” you breathed eyes taking in all the details. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Ed’s voice finally got your attention away from his paintings. He stood next to Lorraine, his arm wrapped around her waist as they both watched you in their house as you were taking everything in. “Welcome to our home.” Just like with Lorraine you couldn’t help but notice how nicely his clothes fitted to his body, he was wearing more causal clothes then the suit he wore yesterday. The clothes he wore today displayed the muscles in his arms so nicely that you had to force your eyes away from them.

“Thank you,” you found your smile growing in Ed’s presence making you freeze for a moment before turning back to look at the paintings. Your cheeks heating again.

“Lunch will just be another ten minutes,” Lorraine detached herself from Ed and walked beside you, she was careful not to touch you as she placed her arm behind your back. Even though there was space in-between her arm and your back plus the material of your clothes you could have sworn you felt the heat from her arm.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You always found it a little odd to just sit or stand around while others prepared meals.

“You can keep Lorraine company while I finish up,” Ed smiled falling in step behind you and Lorraine after you past him. “There’s some drinks at the table.”

“Okay,” you agreed as Ed pulled out two chairs beside each other, Lorraine gently nudged you into one before taking the other. Ed’s hands stayed on the back of them as you pulled them back in. You felt a quick swipe of his thumb on your back before it was gone, your body shivered at the contact. A simmering heat started at the point of contact and moved outwards warming your body as it went.

“We’re having some crispy shredded chicken, with some potato salad,” Lorraine said taking a jug and pouring some into a glass. “Do you drink?”

“That sounds delicious,” you smiled, your mouth watering at the thought. “And yes I do…”

“How does a margarita sound?” Lorraine grinned, sitting the glass in-front of you and pouring herself one and then another glass and setting it across the table where a third plate was set.

“Delicious,” you nodded taking a sip, a hum of satisfaction leaving your lips at the taste. “Did Ed make this as well?”

“He did,” Lorraine grinned turning a little in her chair to face you, propping her head up on her hand. “Isn’t he talented, he can cook, make amazing drinks and paint?”

You blinked a little confused by the tone of Lorraine’s voice but you agreed with her statements, Ed was incredibly talented and if lunch tasted as good as it smelled you would be in heaven. Your body warmed, and it wasn’t just from the cocktail, Lorraine was being very careful not to touch but kept a small amount of space between the two of you. You could hear Ed in the kitchen, humming a little to the song that was playing in softly in the background, your smile becoming gentle as you took another sip of your drink.

“Yes he is,” you agreed, unable to maintain eye contact with Lorraine as you looked down at the table. “You are very lucky, as is your daughter.” You forced yourself to remember that these two were not only married but had a daughter. 

“Indeed, Judy is out with my mother,” Lorraine provided without any prompting. “They’re enjoying a day in the park before going back to my mother’s for the night.”

“That’s sweet, I bet they’ll both enjoy that,” you looked back up at her, you couldn’t help but watch her lips as she took a sip. Your blood felt like it was on fire, and as hard as you tried to ignore it your pussy had started to throb a little, from the moment you noticed how the Warrens looked in their clothes.

“They should do, which give us plenty of time to discuss our case and also to get to know each other,” Ed responded entering from the kitchen with three plates of food balanced perfectly. “And I hope you enjoy this.”  

Ed placed the first plate in-front of you and the second in-front of Lorraine, making sure to kiss her lips as he did, you quickly looked away before you could be caught staring. Ed then took the seat across from the both of you, his lips pulled back into a smile.

“It smells delicious,” you assured him, picking up your fork to taste the chicken. Your eyes shuttered closed as a moan left your lips at the taste of the chicken. It was so beautifully tender and seasoned.

Ed had to shift a little in his seat at the sound that left your mouth, it was positively sinful. Lorraine squeezed her legs together as she felt her panties get a little wet. They shared a heated look both thinking how much they wanted to hear that noise in a different setting.

“I take it you like it?” Lorraine asked, a teasing tone to her voice that you missed entirely.

“This is amazing, Ed,” you praised any concerns you had previously about why these two had such an effect on you forgotten in the face of really good food. It was the easiest way to get through your walls, good food.

“Thank you,” Ed grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”

You eagerly dug into the meal, taking a sip of the margarita in between every few mouthfuls. This was one of the best meals you had had in a while, you mostly grabbed take out or frozen meals, seeing as how you couldn’t cook at all. It was in the best interest of everyone if you never touched a stove. Ed and Lorraine watched, they both rather liked the image of you at their table enjoying a meal cooked by Ed. Lorraine had even inched closer to you her leg slowly pressing into yours bit by bit when you only glanced at her a little, a soft smile sent her way before you went back to eating. Ed stretched out one of his legs to tap your foot with his. Neither of them touching bare skin, as Lorraine was wearing a pair of pants, the material soft against the skin of your leg. Your body seemed to settle from the contact between the three of you, the humming settling down.

You settled back into your chair nursing the last bit of your drink, content from the delicious meal you had consumed when you noticed Lorraine and Ed watching you. Your cheeks heated at their attention, you carefully placed your glass back on the table and looked down.

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I have had a home cooked meal, I normally just get take out or a frozen meal,” you muttered, unsure why you felt the need to explain why you absolutely devoured that meal. You weren’t going hungry but there is something that is just superior about home cooked meals.

“No need to apologise,” Ed smiled, deciding to test the waters a bit more and reached out to cover your hand with his, pausing with his hand hovering above yours to give you time to move away. When you didn’t he gently placed his hand over yours and squeezed softly. “It’s a great compliment to the chef when people enjoy their food so much they can’t stop until its gone.”

Lorraine noticing that you didn’t pull away from her husband’s touch leaned into you, gently placing an arm over your shoulders, her fingers softly stroking the skin of your arm. She too moved slowly, waiting to see if you would move away from her touch before she actually touched you, when you leant into her side she grinned. An electric shock went through both of you the moment she touched your skin with her fingers, your body heated from the inside out, in a very pleasant way.

“Oh,” Lorraine maintained the contact, as her body started to heat and that feeling she got when she felt the presence yesterday returned. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, in fact it made her feel safe, the thing seemed to wrap around both her and Ed, extending its protective circle around them.

“What?” Ed asked, you had been worried that he might feel left out from not being able to feel what you and Lorraine were feeling but he mostly appeared curious as he stroked you hand.

“The presence that is inside our girl, it wants to protect us,” Lorraine explained staring at you with wonder. “It feels like safety, and my body is heating up, it feels like electricity is passing between us.”

You thought you had misheard when Lorraine referred to you as “our girl” but when Ed only nodded and looked between you and his wife with awe you thought that maybe that is what you heard. You felt the warmth in your body finally reach your hand that was resting under Eds. You bit your lip wondering if you could find a way to pass the warmth to him as well. Ed’s fingers stopped stroking your hand his eyes growing wide as he looked at you.

“I think I can feel…warmth,” he whispered in wonder. You grinned, though unsure of how you managed it, happy that Ed didn’t have to be left out. “Our girl.”

The presences within you seemed content, in a way you hadn’t felt before, the humming was now a constant low buzz in the background. You wanted to test something, so you thought about getting up and leaving, about never returning to them. The pain that ripped through you head was like nothing else you had felt before, you gasped eyes squeezing shut.

“What happened?” Ed was up and out of his seat, coming around to your side of the table and kneeling beside you, his hand on your thigh. Lorraine had moved her hand that was stroking your arm to the back of your head, gently rubbing through your hair as her other hand fell to your thigh closest to her.

“It’s fine,” you waved their concern away quickly letting the thoughts drop, the warmth returned as did the light. ��I…just needed to test something.”

“And it caused you pain?” Lorraine asked. “You thought about a decision that was wrong.”

“Yeah, I thought…I thought about leaving and not returning,” you confessed softly. You had only known these two for a day, if that, and you knew that your instincts were telling you that you had to stay with them but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t creep out the married couple. They might have both called you “our girl” but that also doesn’t mean anything.

“It would seem that you are meant to be here,” Lorraine told you, pressing a kiss against your cheek, grinning as your entire face went red.

“With us,” Ed added squeezing the thigh that was under his hand. His eyes smouldering when he saw how you reacted to Lorraine merely kissing you on the cheek. 

“But,” you saw a photo of them with their daughter and it was like ice water had been dropped on you. Ed and Lorraine gasped, feeling the drop in your warmth from their connections with your skin. “Your daughter, you are married and you have a child.”

“Our child who will understand,” Lorraine assured you. “My mother used to date more than one person, and Judy asked about it one day, poly relationships are easy to explain to a child.”

“But the church,” you tried again only to have Ed gently cup your cheek and tilt your head upwards as he stood up.

“It is a little at odds with the teachings of the church but Lorraine and I have come to terms with it long ago, before we had Judy we use to see other people for either short term or long term,” Ed explained. “But none of them ever felt right enough for it to become permanent.”

“But there is something about you that is different,” Lorraine continued. “We can’t explain it but I think the fact that you were in so much pain when you thought about leaving us just confirms that this difference is a good thing. That we are meant to be.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying to sort through your thoughts, ignoring the humming that had started back up in earnest when both Ed and Lorraine acknowledged that you belong with them and they belonged with you. It was absurd for you all to be feeling so strongly about strangers, even knowing what you know about the supernatural it was weird to you. But that was only a small part of your brain, the rest, well the rest was happy with what you were feeling. It was like pieces of the puzzle finally coming into place, like coming home. And your instincts had never led you astray before, the last time you ignored them when it concerned a relationship you had ended up with a man who cheated on you constantly. You focused back on the couple beside you, they were trying hard to hide their hope but when you smiled at them, their faces blossomed. They seemed to have a conversation between themselves before they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks.

“Our girl,” they both grinned, enjoying the flushed look on you. “May we kiss you?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. Obviously the conversation they had was regarding who was going to get the first kiss. Lorraine nudged your chin up and around to her, with a finger, her thumb stroking your bottom lip. Ed’s hands were gently holding your hips, as he kneeled back down, encouraging you to turn slightly in your chair to face Lorraine.

The first touch of her lips against yours was soft and gentle. Just a press before she tugged your bottom lip between hers sucking it into her mouth, drawing a whine from you. She released your lip, pressing back in, licking your lips to encourage you to separate them, her tongue delved into your mouth tasting you and drawing your tongue to twine with hers. You could feel Eds hands squeezing your hips, before one of them reached around to wrap around your stomach, pressing you against him while Lorraine pressed into your front. Lorraine pulled away, pressing one last kiss to your lips before she separated entirely from you, looking down at her husband to see his darkened eyes staring at the two of you.

“Your turn,” Lorraine whispered nudging you towards him.

Ed stood up, copying what Lorraine did to draw your head up as he bent down to capture your mouth. Where Lorraine’s kiss had been gentle, and calm, kissing Ed was like a storm. It was demanding, he took control in a different way to his wife, his teeth tugging on your lip before he pulled your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it and letting his teeth graze along it before he pushed it back in your mouth with his tongue following. You could feel your clit throbbing as more of your arousal soaked your panties. Ed pulled away from the kiss, scraping his teeth along your jaw quickly before he stood up. He smirked, a little proud of himself for leaving you breathless and your eyes almost glazed over, as your breasts heaved. His eyes dropped to them, licking his lips as he imagined what they would feel like in his mouth. Lorraine was busing dropping kisses along your neck, her hands stroking up and down your thighs as she pressed her chest against your back. Your hands had stretched up to rest against Ed’s stomach, as your eyes dropped from his unable to handle the heat in them. You blinked, eyes widening in surprise when you saw the bugle in his jeans. His cock hard and straining.

“I think we should move to the couch,” Ed almost purred with his suggestion, glancing at his wife before he reached down for your hands and tugged you up and into his chest. You felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach, he groaned at the pressure grinding into you as Lorraine stood up and led the way into the lounge room. Ed squeezed your hands as he tugged you to follow her.

“Anytime you want to stop, just say,” Lorraine said as she sat down, Ed placing you next to her before he took a seat behind you, his hands finding your hips again.

“Promise us, pretty,” Ed leaned in.

“I promise.”

[djljpanda]

Butcher Wally Darling

X

Hunter Reader

@DumbInvader Twitter, Instagram

You had been hunting for years now, starting when you were a child. But that is what you are only truly good at. So you made a career out of it but the one problem you had for awhile was that who was gonna want your kill.

That was until you met with the new butcher in the neighborhood. "Is it true that you are the local hunter?" "Why who is asking!?" "Oh don't worry, you see I just moved here with my butcher shop and I really need some new meat". After a bit of chatting you agreed only with pay at the end.

That is how you and Wally began a good co-worker frendship. At first Wally was confused on why he was excited to see you at the end of the month and how he would get so upset when he saw you with anyone else. Wally thought that his excitement was due to the meat but soon it hit him he was in love you.

You had just got done hunting and seeing how you had enough time to go over to you and see Wally the butcher. You went inside to see Wally getting ready to place some meat out for display. "Oh neighbor I didn't see you there, How have you been" " Just tired so do you just want me to bring it in" "Yes Y/n that would be nice". Wally watched you as you picked up the bag and headed to the back. Wally's face grew red as he noticed your muscles, probably due to all the hunting.

"So you gonna close soon?", Wally snapped out of his trance when you spoke up. "Well in a bit" "Mind if I sit around for awhile I'mma but lazy to head home. Just wanna regain my energy" "Oh no problem", Wally said as you tanked him and went to go sit down.

This wasn't the first time you had done this. Wally did end up making you something as he just sat there and listened to you ramble. "You know Wally the way you butcher the meats it's just perfect kinda lucky to have you in the neighborhood". Wally's face was growing more red by the second as you were confused by the look on his face. "You know Y/n you really are the best hunter I know. But I do hope one day I can see you outside of our usual jobs", your eyes grew wide as Wally's eyes looked down away from yours.

"I would love that, Pick you up tomorrow before you close", Wally only nodded his head watching you finish eating and leaving his shop. And Man Wally couldn't wait as he finally got his hunter the one he really wanted and he would make sure you two would be together.

[lenavonschweetz]

Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 

The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

[supernaturalwolf]

Hotch: what did you do ?

Winchester!Reader: what did I not do is the question.

Hotch: you have three stab wounds!

Winchester!Reader: three? Oh pft that’s child’s play

[the-halloween-jack]

ｒｅｖｅｎａｎｔ －ｅｉｇｈｔ

PART EIGHT OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader  The Vampire Diaries x SupernaturalMini-Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence. Words: 3,351k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist <Previous Part | Next Part (Coming Soon) >

After three-quarters of an hour, the hairdryer was still running. Dean had been half-asleep when he registered the faint whirring sound from the bathroom and realised it had been going for far too long. He was still sitting hunched with his hands over his face, exactly as he had been when she left the room with a slam of a door; after he had spoken those dreaded words. 

‘He didn’t have a choice, I would’ve died then too…’  Y/N had muttered when he had asked how this could happen. He remembered her tears as she spoke, they had made her eyes look like glass.

‘Well, maybe he should have let you…’  

The words sent a chill through him; how could he have said that to her? But was he wrong? Would she not be better off?

His mind had briefly wandered back to the case — the ghouls, the bloodstains — but the moment stretched, and the realisation hit him. His pulse kicked up, sending a jolt through his body as his eyes snapped open.

Y/N was not in her bed. Y/N was not anywhere.

The grim image of her body upon the old wooden table, paired with the awful, rusty scent of her blood, made him flinch as if he had been struck.

He stood up fast, his heart lurching in his chest as his feet steadied on the cold and grimy motel floor. The room was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the damn hair dryer still buzzing in the air.

He got up and moved toward the bathroom without thought, like a man possessed. The door was shut, and a sliver of light spilled out from under the threshold, illuminating the dusk-darkened room. 

He placed his hand on the doorknob and was met with no resistance; it was already unlocked. The hairdryer’s hum intensified through the now-open door as it oscillated on the edge of the sink.

But there was no sign of Y/N.

There was no beloved sister standing there, her back to him as she dried her hair in the mirror, as she had done a hundred times prior. He hesitated at the doorway, and then his heart stopped. The bathroom was empty.

Empty. She was missing, and in transition, how could he be so irresponsible? How could he let himself drift off? She was dangerous now; she could hurt someone. He counted the hours back in his head since he had last slept and was kicking himself with the realisation of just how long it had been; he had needed to be awake and alert for her, and he failed.

He moved quickly, tearing through the small space and flipping the shower curtain aside frantically — as if he did not already know she was not there. He stared at the moulded, derelict tile walls in dismay, noticing the scent of soap still lingering in the air.

His breath came faster. His brain was scrambling to catch up with what his eyes were telling him. He spotted her old, bloodied clothes sitting discarded on the porcelain of the toilet seat, they were the only possessions of hers that remained, the room was bare. A flash of movement at the edge of his vision made him snap his head up — the window. It was wide open.

‘Shit.' He muttered, noticing the high pitch of his panic. 

He spun on his heels, stumbling back into the room. His gaze darted to the bed, and for a second, he convinced himself that maybe…

No, she was not there; he knew this.

Her things were missing, her bed was made, and now he was left wondering how far away she had gotten. He flipped his phone open and dialled her number, his fingers moving nimbly as a reflex, yet still trembling horribly. He had called this number many times in the past few months, and like clockwork, each time, he would be met with her voicemail; tonight was no exception. He snapped the phone shut and threw it to her bed.

Dean’s stomach clenched and he leaned over placing his hands in his knees. No. No. He wasn’t going to let her go down this road. Not after everything they had been through. But what could he do? It was already too late for her. 

‘Sam!’ His voice was sharp, frantic, the kind of desperation that hit with the force of a freight train.

Sam had been standing behind him, getting up to follow Dean in his alarm, his face already clouded with worry before the scene of the bathroom had even registered before him.

‘She’s gone,’ Dean snapped, pacing the small room, his mind running in a hundred directions at once. ‘She’s—‘ He cut himself off, eyes locking on the open window through the door. ‘She’s gone, Sam. She—‘

Sam was already moving toward the door, his face drawn, filled with a dread that was becoming all too familiar. ‘Surely, she can’t be far. We need to find her…’

Dean shook his head, his frustration boiling over. That is not what he meant. He did not mean she was missing, he meant that she was gone. ‘What the hell, Sam? She’s not some lost puppy we’re gonna find wandering down the road! She’s a damn vampire, and she…’

He had already begun to mourn her; she had died in their arms. He had stared at her decrepit corpse for hours, refusing to accept the actuality before him. He remembered the way he had pleaded for it not to be true. Now, she walked again, but it was not the same; it could never be the same as it was. It seemed like a sick, twisted joke.

‘Dean, we don’t know that. She might not have done that yet—’ Sam interrupted him, avoiding the specifics, not only to placate Dean but because he could not stomach the idea himself; he did not want to see her that way, he did not want the image in his mind. 

His voice was softer but firm, pulling his brother’s focus back. He continued,

‘She’s our sister, Dean. We don’t know what she’s doing. She could be in danger.’ Sam shuddered,

She was not in danger herself now, but the one who is dangerous; Y/N was the threat now, and the notion made him sick.  

‘No, you don’t get it,’ Dean’s voice dropped low, dark. ‘She’s gone, Sam. We both know it.’ His eyes burned with a venomous anger; his hands balled into fists at his sides. As his bitter words flowed, he believed them more and more. He knew if they went looking for her, she would never be found. She does not exist on this plane anymore; the girl he loved, his sister, was lost perpetually. 

‘She’s lost to us. She’s a damn monster now, and it doesn’t matter what we say, or how many times we look at her like she’s still the girl we raised, the sister we loved. That’s not her anymore.’

‘She’s dead… She died — in our arms last night,’ Dean choked on his words as he desperately tried for air, why was it so hard to breathe? Why was the room spinning? 

‘It was my fault, I should have died… Not her.’ The words were barely spoken, coming out in a gasp, Sam could barely make them out, needing to follow the movement of his brother’s lips. 

‘That girl we saw today, that’s not her, it can’t be; she was a fake.’ Dean shook with vexation once more, with Y/N, with himself, Sam was not sure.

He froze, his heart skipping. He had not seen Dean this angry in a long time — swallowed whole by rage. Sam’s shoulders began to quake with his own agony; he registered a distant and inhuman cry, he did not have enough time to wonder where it was coming from before he realised they were his own sobs. Why did they sound so far away? Why was he so disconnected from his own body?

‘Dean…’ His voice faltered as he looked at his brother. It was not just anger that shook him. It was grief. Grief, mingled with guilt and a twisted, violent kind of regret. The kind that made you do things you would have never thought of in a hundred years.

Dean shook his head; the words tumbling out in a dangerous rush. 

‘I’m not going to save her, Sam. I’m not going to pretend she’s still the person we knew. ’ He turned sharply, pacing to the door. How had he found this resolve so suddenly? Had he not yearned to find her only moments earlier? Dean struggled to recall when she had become the stranger he pictured now, the monster. She had not looked like a monster when she awoke from her death, when they had realised what must have happened. 

‘She died last night, killed by those god-awful ghouls. She’s not the same. And if we don’t do something about it, people are going to get hurt. It’s time we finish this. Her case. And the supernatural problem that ruined her life. Our lives.’

Sam stepped toward him, with words already on his tongue. Surely, he could not mean that. He could not possibly be suggesting they hunt their own sister. But Dean was already halfway out the door.

‘You’re not—’ thinking straight,  Sam wanted to say, but Dean was already gone.

With a moment of hesitation and a breath of bitter air, Sam followed him out.

Dean's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles tense and pale, as he drove toward the town. That awful, revolting, loathsome town. The anger — his blinding anger — throbbed through him, it thudded in his ears and pulsed within his veins. He could feel it in his gut, a gnawing beast that told him he had to finish what she had started. He had to rid the world of whatever vile supernatural force had taken his sister away from him. And if that meant tearing Mystic Falls apart, so be it. If that meant killing the vampire who had turned her... then that is what he was going to do.

Damon Salvatore.

The name felt like bile in his throat and burned like acid. The more he thought about ‘it’, that repulsive creature, the tighter his grip on the wheel became. He knew the bastard had to die. If not for him, Y/N would not have become the thing she was now; the abomination. She would not have disappeared into the night. She would not have lost herself andhe would not have lost her. It was Damon who was to blame. Damon was the cause of all this.

He had no sympathy. No understanding. Not when it came to hurting her.

And hurt her he had.

Deep down, hidden beneath layers of wrath and chagrin, Dean knew why he was acting this way. He knew that if Y/N had truly died, he would be doing absolutely everything in his power to bring her back, and he would not have rested until he was successful. He would have done anything. But now, he could never bring her back — save her from this fate. If that abhorrent vampire had left her alone, she would be salvageable, even if it meant Dean needed to die in her place. 

Dean’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening with each passing mile. He barely registered Sam’s quiet words beside him. ‘Dean, stop. We have to think of this rationally —’

‘I’m not stopping, Sam,’ Dean cut him off sharply, his voice low, strained and cold. 

‘We’re going to Mystic Falls. And we’re finishing it.’ His eyes flickered to Sam briefly, and for a moment, the weight of what he was saying hung in the air as tears filled his eyes. ‘I’m done, Sam. I’m done— ’

Sam watched him quietly, trying to gauge if there was any part of the man he used to know in the eyes staring out the windshield, his brother. But it was hard to tell, the burning in his eyes showed a stranger. Dean was consumed — swallowed whole by something darker than grief. He was already lost, and Sam feared there would be no bringing him back.

‘Listen to me for a second, would you?’ Sam's voice was heated, raised for the first time all evening.  ‘She had vampire blood in her system, did you ever stop and think about what that means?’ Dean began to speak, but Sam raised his hand, silencing him with a scalding look that Dean saw in the corner of his vision. 

‘She said she would have died anyway, their blood heals people, that… vampire —’ The word made him cringe, ‘obviously, saved her life.’ 

Though, Sam did not understand; it did not make sense. Why would he save her? A hunter. Why was she with him in the first place? How could she bear being near him? Knowing what he is. But it did not matter, it did not change what he already knew.

Dean started again, but Sam cut him off.

‘She died on the ghoul case… with us, we killed her, we did it — not him.’ 

Sam gazed out through the windshield as tears clouded his vision, streetlights turned to indistinguishable dots of light as they loomed closer. This realisation stung and cut his throat like small blades as he expelled ragged breaths. But he continued away,

‘But she’s still here, Dean. She’s not gone — not yet, anyway,’ He gasped out, ‘She holds the same memories, the same personality, it’s her. And if we can get to her, we can help her.’

‘Dean, we don’t even know if she is in Mystic Falls, what if we’re leaving her behind?’

But his words fell on deaf ears; Dean stared forward as if he had said nothing at all, and Sam slumped back in his seat, defeated. Staring numbly at the dark silhouettes of trees as they flew past them. 

Y/N stood in front of the grand fireplace in the Salvatore boarding house, the warmth of the crackling fire barely reaching the chill that had settled deep within her. The flames danced in hypnotic patterns, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, against her skin — yet all she could see before her were the faces of her brothers.

She let her fingers graze the mantle, her eyes tracing the cracks in the stone as if they might conceal the answers to the questions she could not bring herself to mutter. She could still hear Dean’s voice, sharp and angry, his words slicing through the distance between them like a blade. 

Well, maybe he should have let you…

His words had cut off, he knew he had gone too far, but she knew it was what he truly believed. He had thought she was better off dead. He would rather she was not here. 

She pondered that reality for a moment. Suppose she had died the night of the founder’s ball. Maybe it might have been easier. Maybe she would not have needed to feel all this grief for her brothers. But then she thought of Damon, and she realised, halfway content, that she was glad that did not happen, at least for him. She remembered the way he had cried over her, pleading with her to drink his blood. At least she was certain of this much; she could not leave Damon, she could not bear to hurt him. How could that dreaded night already seem a lifetime ago? It was only the night before the last. 

She had believed, once, for a very brief moment in time, that this affliction might only be temporary—that there was still some thread of humanity she could cling to. That her brothers would save her. Bearing witness to years of their escapades had her believing there was nothing that they could not do. And this was just another problem, another puzzle to be solved; but she knew that was selfish — to expect so much from them. 

But that did not matter now, and she had never truly believed it and the reality of what she had become quelled that fragile hope regardless. This was her reality now: vampires do not age; they never change. They did not get to go back to the lives they had before.

And she was no exception. 

She could almost feel their rejection, the weight of their disappointment hanging in the air, suffocating her with every harsh breath. Deans anger had been cold, unforgiving. It was the kind of rage that came with the loss of something precious. And Sam, sweet Sam—his conflicted, sorrowful gaze had been the worst of all. She could almost hear his voice, trembling with the desperate hope that maybe he could fix her. But she knew better now.

She was beyond saving. She had not even wanted to save herself, she had been wholly ready to die, to let Damon’s blood dwindle from her system, till her death caught up with her once more. 

A familiar ache of longing twisted in her chest as she thought of them. The brothers who had raised her, fought for her, loved her in ways that no one else ever had. The brothers who were now lost to her forever. How could she go back to them now, knowing the truth of what she was? How could she let them see her like this? They would hate me, she thought. They already do.

She imagined the look on Dean’s face as he looked at her—disgust. His words were harsher than the coldest winter she had known, biting at her soul. He would see the vampire she had become and reject the parts of his little sister that remained. 

Nothing, she thought. He would see nothing left of me.

And yet, she would miss them more than anything. She would miss the way Dean always teased her, even when he was angry. She would miss Sam’s soft smiles, the way he would always try to protect her, even when she did not need it. She would miss being family—the thing that had once meant everything to her. It had all slipped away, and in its place was this hollow, aching void.

But she knew deep down, past her surfaced dejections, there was no void. Her love for Damon had settled into every crevice of her being, and with all her regret came a guilty, unexpected sense of relief; she was glad she had forever, an eternity to love him. He was her family now, and she could not find it within herself to regret this.

Behind her was the sound of soft footsteps. The familiar, grounding presence of Damon. She did not need to turn around to know it was him; she had grown so used to the weight of his presence, the subtle way he filled the silence between them. When had this happened? It all felt so quick.

He did not speak. Instead, she felt his warmth press against her back, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her against him. His head found its way into the space between her shoulder and neck, and she instinctively leaned into him, the comfort of his touch a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of her loss.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting herself absorb the silence, the feeling of being held. But the ache inside her did not fade. It only deepened. Her brothers were gone—the life she knew was gone—and all she had left was the man who had turned her into this being.

And she could not even bring herself to regret it. She loved Damon; she loved the way he made her feel, even when it terrified her.

She stood there, motionless, with Damon’s arms around her, staring ahead at nothing. She mourned the girl she had been, but when she thought of what she had gained—when she felt the weight of Damon’s arms around her—she knew she would not trade any of it.

TAG LIST:

@venomsvl, @serenity-fujakante, @tonystarkwifey, @lively-potter, @deanwanddamons, @wildernessflora, @fluffycoconut

[animatorweirdo]

A Dream or Reality?

Finrod had unknowingly changed his fate when he met a hunter from another world.

(This is a fic I kinda abandoned in my WIPs and have no motivation or what so ever to edit or do proper work on it, so there are certain mistakes. A crossover between Silmarillion and Bloodborne. I didn't want to simply put it in the trash, so I hope you like it. Another note: I haven't played Bloodborne, so I'm sorry if some of the things are wrong. )

Warnings: violence, blood, reader scaring most of the elves, using a gun, a lot of fighting, mentions of getting eaten by a wolf, and reader coming to rescue Finrod.

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

Finrod’s first encounter with you was strange and sudden. 

He was on patrol with his men, seeking something else to do besides his royal duties and ensuring no orcs were hiding in his lands, trying to find out the location of his kingdom. 

The patrol was going more easily than he expected, so he allowed himself and his men to take a break at a river, enjoying the sounds of the flowing river and letting the horses drink after hours of riding. The sun was at its highest, so Finrod was certain no orc or other creature of darkness would ambush them at such a peaceful hour. 

That was it till he heard shooting in the distance. 

The horses were startled by the sudden sounds of what seemed to sound like explosions. Finrod had never heard such sounds before, so he didn’t know what to call them. However, the sounds were then accompanied by the howls of wargs– sounds which he knew very well and gave him a feeling something serious was happening. 

Finrod rallied his men and rode to investigate, following the sounds, which became louder as he got closer. He then arrived at a scene of a lone edain fending off a pack of wargs. 

You were shooting down the wargs one by one with a strange projectile-like weapon that created an explosion from the top of its pipe and sent something small yet fast flying at the wargs, killing them instantly. 

In your other hand, you held a strange saw-like weapon that seemed to be folded in a way, using it to cut down the wargs that came too close for your liking. It suddenly changed form as you plunged it into the warg’s chest and threw the beast over your shoulder, letting it die on the ground as your weapon changed back.

Finrod was surprised, to say at least. Your weapons were strange yet efficient contraptions. 

With his elven sight, he noticed your movements and reactions getting slower and clumsier. You also left a trail of blood in your steps, so it was clear you were injured and would soon get mauled by the pack if he didn’t do something. You were clearly getting too exhausted to handle the wargs by yourself, so he needed to step in and save you before it was too late. 

He ordered his men to shoot down the rest of the wargs as he came to you, dropping down from his horse when you fell to the ground, obviously exhausted and wounded. 

However, before he could touch you or even ask to see your injuries – you pushed your weapon at him, breathing heavily and with fear in your eyes. Finrod stayed still, trying not to startle you even though he was unnerved by the scent of something burning within the pipe of your weapon. He saw what it did to the wargs, so he was not keen on finding out what it could do to him, especially from such close range. 

His men were ready to shoot you, but he told them to stand back.

Your hold on the weapon was shaking, and the frightened look in your eyes told him you had never seen his kind before and the rush of fighting to stay alive was still affecting you. 

Finrod remained calm and slowly but gently assured you he was a friend and wanted to help. 

You cautiously laid your weapon down, confused by his fair appearance and calming voice but convinced he was not a monster or an illusion to trick your mind. He offered to check on your wounds, but before you could say anything – the blood loss you had suffered during the fight made you lose consciousness. 

Concerned, he quickly took you to his kingdom and left you in the care of the healers, who tried their best to stabilize your condition even though the odds seemed to be against you. He feared you would die despite his efforts, but luckily, you survived and fell into a deep sleep. 

He left you to rest in peace, letting the healers watch over you and wait for you to awaken from your sleep. However, he was confused when they told him about the unusual healing speed of your wounds. They had given you medicine, but your injuries seemed to have recovered in a matter of a day without leaving scars. It was like you were never in a fight in the first place. 

It was way too quick for a human, and not only that — you also seemed to be bothered by an illness of sorts. 

Finrod was concerned by the news, but he knew he could not do much about your condition. He will only find out when you wake up and tell him who you are and what this sickness was. 

It took a few days for you to recover, and when you finally woke up, you were startled to see yourself in a new place without your weapons and dark garments they took to be fixed and washed from the blood. It was a good thing Finrod was visiting when you woke up because you nearly wounded some of the healers in your panic. 

It was chaotic, but Finrod managed to calm you down before you accidentally injured his people. 

He tried to talk to you when you calmed down and went back to rest on the bed. You seemed much more docile around him but did not utter a word. Strangely, you seemed to be trying to figure out if you were in a dream of sorts or trying to find something hiding in the corners. At least taken by your constant cautious and suspicious look in your eyes. 

It was such a strange behavior. Finrod could definitely tell you were not from Beleriand since everything seemed so new and strange for you, minus your weapons and clothes, which were strangely fashioned. 

But when you spoke for the first time, he was both delighted and even more perplexed. 

“Is this a dream?” you asked him. 

Finrod was not certain how to answer since you looked at him seriously, yearning for the answer to your question. It gave him thoughts if you had something to do with dreams before that had greatly affected your mind. 

He assured you were not in a dream, and everything was real. You didn’t seem very convinced but took the answer and didn’t speak much. 

When he asked where you were from; you told him you were from a city called Yharnam which he was not familiar with like you weren’t familiar with Nargothrond or Middle Earth. 

It was one of the last times you spoke so much. Now you mostly answered with hums and nods. 

Finrod took you for a quiet person, so he didn’t push you to talk when he started visiting you, bringing some sweets and filling you in about his people and the kingdom and the world outside. 

You listened attentively and rarely answered his questions with words. 

You told him you were a hunter and your home had been plagued with a terrible disease that turned people into monsters. Your task was to hunt these monsters while trying to find a cure for the illness within you.  

Finrod felt sympathetic for you, especially when there was no known cure yet for your illness. 

The last thing you remember was an odd feeling taking over you during a fight then you woke up somewhere unknown, ambushed by the pack of wargs. 

Since it would take time for you to find a way back to your home. Finrod allowed you to stay and even offered the help of his healers to find a cure for your illness. 

You gratefully accepted the offer even though you had doubts even his healers could find the cure and thus – your stay in Nargothrond began. 

Finrod’s people felt unease by your presence when you got better and started walking around. You were quiet and dressed strangely. They had also heard about the weapons you possessed, so no one dared to approach you. 

You followed Finrod around like a shadow, listening to him and rarely speaking. It intimidated the elves of Nargothrond even though their king did not seem to mind, already used to your silence. 

Celegorm, however, decided to test your patience, throwing slight insults and trying to gain any reaction from you. It was pretty clear to you, so you paid him no mind and continued with your own business, talking with Finrod and working with the healers on the possible cure for you. 

It of course made him try harder, but you have faced darker things, so his jabbing was nothing thus there was nothing to gain by ingulding his attention-seeking behaviour, so it was rather easy. 

When Finrod couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore, he asked you about your weapons, especially about the projectile weapon that made explosions. 

You were confused till you realized he was talking about your pistol, so you then gave a brief explanation and even demonstrated how to use it on the training grounds, blowing the targets with your bullets and startling the bystanders with its explosive sounds. 

You even demonstrated your saw-cleaver in both of its forms. 

Finrod was fascinated though he did not like the sounds your pistol made in its use. 

You were interesting company even though you didn’t talk much. You spent most of your time with him or enjoying the calmness of nature since you were rather reluctant to interact with anyone else. Finrod had hoped you would spend some time with other people, making friends and acquaintances since it seemed you might stay in Nargothrond for longer. Your reasoning was you shouldn't make attachments that might not last or because you might never see them again. It was logical in a way, but still. To his delight, you did start interacting with his loyal friend Edrahil, who was often seen scolding you for scaring other elves with your looming presence even as a joke. He had a feeling you liked it in a way since Edrahil did not seem to bear any fear toward you. 

The day finally arrived when Barahir’s son, Beren,  came to seek his aid in a quest. Finrod knew the day would eventually come, but to reclaim a silmaril from Morgoth’s crown, he hoped it would have been something else, especially when the two sons of Feanor spoke against him and convinced his own people against partaking in the quest, save for Edrahil and a handful of people, who were willing to join. 

You were willing to join to repay for his kindness, but Finrod convinced you to stay behind. You have been healed from your injuries, but since you were ill. It would be best for you to stay behind with his people, so they could continue researching the cure for you. 

You did not like the sound of him going on his own with only a handful of people to steal from Morgoth. But you did not like trying to talk back to him. He was too convincing, so you stayed behind. 

But as Finrod suspected, he, Beren, and his company barely made past Sirion and got captured by Sauron. He tried to fight back the wicked lieutenant of Morgoth, but his power proved to be too great and they were trapped in a dungeon with a ravenous wolf who began eating his companions one by one. 

Hope seemed lost, but he couldn't bring himself to give up easily and let Beren die, so he was prepared to die. 

But in the darkness, he heard a sound that sparked hope within his heart, the gunshot of your pistol. 

You had come. 

You were shooting Sauron's werewolves left and right as they charged at you. You pulled out your saw-spear and plunged it into one of the beasts, letting its blood dress the bridge that was now collecting bodies of werewolves. 

You pulled out your weapon, letting it click back into its primary form and the werewolf fell dead on your feet. The hound, Huan, stood beside you as it had fought alongside you. You gazed at the tower before you. 

You have faced several foes, so you did not fear. However, this time you hoped you would get to Finrod just in time before fate's claws would take him. Determined, you clogged your gun and prepared for a fierce fight to save your friend. 

[wontmindd]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 | 𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Hunter X Hunter

pairing. Knuckle Bine x hunter!fem!Reader

spoilers!. huge Chimera Ant Arc spoilers

plot. the night before the final fight against King Meruem in the palace of East Gorteau, you decide it’s time to confess your love to none other than your friend and Hunter companion, the oblivious Knuckle Bine. Because you can’t sleep, and cause maybe you’ll never have another chance to tell him. But instead, Knuckle makes you promise something: to put the World before him tomorrow. Will you respect his wishes?

word count. 3,6k

prompts. Chimera Ant Arc, aftermath of the Chimera Ant Arc final battle, Reader is also a Hunter and Morel apprentice, secretly in love, love confessions, awkward romance, Knuckle is dense, kissing, making out, getting together.

You like many things about Knuckle.

In the beginning he didn't give you a good impression. You both got close to each other after you got taken under the protective wing of Morel, who instructed you along with Shoot. Shoot is a quieter type, really silent, but getting along with him was smooth and easy. With Knuckle it was a whole other story. During your first missions together he always raised doubts about the tactics you proposed, on the other hand you did the same with him. If you said A, he would say B. If he wanted to go right, you wanted to go left. And this would always end up in yelling, staring contests and headbutting. You understood some things about Knuckle: he was hot-headed, impulsive, loud and a braggart. But he was also kind. No matter how many times he shouted against you, he never did it for personal hatred. It was for genuine interest in helping people in need, and to make sure that the mission was successful. He never insulted you with more than a superficial "idiot", and from his eyes you always understood that he didn't really mean it and that he didn't want to offend your intelligence. Even Knuckle soon realized how kind you were, and how much you took care of things and people you cared about. He respected it. You two learned how to trust one another and make a better team, much to Shoot's and Morel's relief, who honestly couldn't take it anymore. Your fights decreased, replaced by an unconditional affection and a unbreakable loyalty. And from your part, even love. People would often ask if you and Knuckle were a couple. And every time both you and him would answer with a ferocious "OF COURSE NOT!". Knuckle's cheeks and ears would get hot, and you would feel your stomach erupt in warmth from embarrassment. You couldn't look at each other in the face.

His hair, first of all. They were his trademark. Always styled in a pompadour, they were really popular between high school thugs. Knuckle told you that he even formed a gang when he was a student, and that it was the most feared inside the school. To be honest, you were really sure that it was just a very normal group of friends who loved to slack off, and that he told you that just to sound tough. You like the stress lines under his eyes, which give him a serious look just how he wanted it. And you appreciate his ears, which become red and hot when he loses his shit or when he's embarrassed, two moods he constantly swings between.He has a pretty body, toned and muscular thanks to his intensive workouts and his inclination towards the art and use of Nen.And you like that he takes care of stray dogs, and the way he cries so easily out of sympathy and emotion. He's a sweet guy who gets moved to tears so often even though he hides it behind a tough-guy armor. You like more things about him than you can count.

One time, while patrolling alone with Morel and Shoot during a mission, you dared to question them about all of this.

"I wonder why people always ask me and Knuckle if we're a couple. For example, why not me and you, Shoot?"

If only Shoot had eyebrows, he would have raised them all the way up his hairline. So his hooded eyes were just comically wide. Morel, on the other hand, erupted in a loud, gigantic laugh that made you jump in surprise. A laugh so hard that he had to hold onto his pipe. You stopped, putting your hands on your hips.

"C'mon, what are you laughing at!" you pouted.

"Are you really asking why people think that you and that idiot are couple?!" Morel choked between laughter "you with the shiny eyes every time you stare at him? Who drools when he takes off his jacket during combat? Who plays with her hair like schoolgirl when we get out for drinks and he offers you a beer? You gotta be kidding me!"

And he proceeded to keep laughing again. Meanwhile, your face caught on fire. You smacked both hands on your mouth, shaking your head vigorously.

"I never stared at him!" you tried to object.

"If I may intrude" Shoot intervened, shyly "you stare at him a lot"

"That's not possible..." you whispered.

You wanted to threaten your own mentor to stop laughing, because what Morel said wasn't true at all. You didn't like Knuckle that way. But you just couldn't protest. Morel was right. You did really like Knuckle that way!

"Fuck, I like Knuckle! How could it be...and most importantly, what do I do!" you exclaimed, fisting your hair in your hands out of panic.

Morel sighed, puffing some smoke in the process. Then, he showed off one of the big grins of his.

"Boys are complicated, dearie, so I suggest we all get drunk tonight"

"Sounds like a great idea" you replied.

The step from liking to loving was really short. It was so easy to fall in love with Knuckle once you understood that you had feelings for him. Even though you kept fighting now and then, and you still called each other idiots. He cared about immensly, and you cared about him. Everything culminated one night after you promised to protect each other with your own lives. Morel took you out to drink as usual, and maybe you and him were a bit drunk.

"If the situation ever requires it, I'll give up my life for you, (Y/N)" Knuckle said.

Yeah, you did drink, and you were waiting for a taxi outside the bar you usually spent your free time in. But the way his eyes looked into you as he said that was so damn serious. And you, to such a determined and kind gaze, could answer with a stare just as serious.

"And I'll do the same for you, Knuckle"

Night before the selection

It's a quiet night. Clear, silent. You and your teammates would appreciate it more if only there wasn't this uneasiness in the air. Tomorrow the King of Chimera Ants, Meruem, will begin the selection, which will kill millions of people in no time. You, Knuckle, Morel and Shoot were selected to go to the NGL region to get rid of the menace. It's, without the shadow of a doubt, the most dangerous mission you've ever dealt with, you understood it during your fights against the Ants. And facing the Royal Guards will be way worse. Both you and Knuckle risked a lot, and if you ever had to die one day, you feel like it would be tomorrow. And you still didn't tell Knuckle that you love him. What if this is the last good moment to tell him? Tomorrow you won't have time for sure, and maybe not even after, because you're not sure that there'll be an after tomorrow. The thought creeps you out and prevents you from sleeping and gathering energies. You tried to sleep on the floor of the small abandoned chalet where you and and your squad are resting. But the fact that Gon and Killua keep doing push-ups doesn't really help. With a nervous sigh, you get up. You exit the chalet, taking a big breath of fresh air. You were feeling like suffocating before. The air is cold just right. And stars are really beautiful in NGL, without any artificial light the night sky is a whole other story. This could be your last chance to see so many pretty stars, because you're pretty sure that tomorrow you won't have any time to raise your nose up. An imperceptible sound of chattering makes his way towards your ears. You turn around to see if you have company, but there's no one. A small leaf lands on your nose, and you look upwards. Shoot and Knuckle are discussing something on top of a tall tree, you can't hear what they're saying but the concern in their voices is evident. Knowing that you aren't the only one uncomfortable relieves you, so you decide to climb up the tree and reach them.

"Trouble sleeping?"

As soon as Knuckle sees you, he jumps. And Shoot flushes red in a matter of seconds, sweating profusely. You raise a curious brow.

"What's going on? Did I interrupt something?" you ask, concerned.

Even Knuckle's cheeks become a blushing mess, his lips pressed tightly against each other and his muscular body stiff under his white jacket.

"No it's just..." Knuckle says, almost stuttering "y-you...YOU HAVE SOME NASTY EYEBAGS!"

Knuckle points a finger right to your face, and Shoot covers his face with his hand.

You're absolutely not convincing...he thinks.

But Knuckle still manages to make you mad as fuck, and you grit your teeth.

"That ain't true! It's just that I can't sleep tonight!" you protest, raising two fists in front of the Beast Hunter.

"I think I'll leave you two alone" Shoot whispers, and with only a jump he gets down the tall tree.

"Shoot, wait!" you exclaim.

Having his company would have reassured you, since he was just as anxious as you. You're always surrounded by impulsive Hunters without any sense of danger, who understands you better than him?

"But for real, are you okay?"

It was Knuckle who talked, who's voice got softer. He's looking at you with apprehension, the stress lines under his eyes frowning. You relax your gaze too as you meet his eyes.

"Not really" you sigh, and you sit right next to him on the tree branch, your feet swinging in the darkness beneath it.

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we went on so many missions before this one without loosing once. But we aren't invincible, and this is a really big menace. I'm worried that we might not make it"

You were so scared of never getting to tell him that you love him. Maybe you should do it now. Knuckle doesn't say anything. It's true, by this hour tomorrow he could have already lost you. The thought terrifies him. He had already faced 5000 battles without losing one, but nothing can guarantee him that you'll be with him after tomorrow. He presses his lips together and looks down. You can't stand his eyes either.

"You're right, this time we can't be so certain" he murmures "I'm sorry, (Y/N), I can't make you feel better"

You have to tell him now.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to sa-"

"Wait, (Y/N), I have to tell you something too" Knuckle interrupts you. He has never done this, he always respected your words, even when he didn't agree.

You hold your breath, gripping your clothes between your fingers.

"What?" you ask with half a voice.

Knuckle finally looks at you, serious. He reaches for you with his hand and softly grazes your face so that you can look at him. You hope he doesn't feel it getting warmer under his touch, because you feel that way in response of his unexpected gesture. You just know that your pupils are dilated now. You're drowning in his eyes, always so furious yet kind. After making sure that you're looking in his eyes, he lets his hand fall from your face slowly.

"I..." Knuckle opens his mouth, but it seems like words are stuck in his throat. He never had trouble talking, why now?

For a moment it seems like Knuckle's stumbling on his own words.

"I..." ha takes a deep breath, before shaking his head "made you a promise, one night in front of our bar"

You look at him intently.

"And I know that I was very drunk, but I always took it seriously. And I know you did the same"

You didn't expect him to talk about your promise. Instinctively, you scoot closer to him making your body scratch against the bark of the branch.

"Of course I took it seriously" you say.

"But I gotta ask you to break it”

You spread your eyes open. Knuckle gets close to you too and lays his hand on your shoulder. A shiver goes down your spine.

"Knuckle I can't"

"But you have to, because this isn't just a mission, you just said it yourself. This is about saving the world, and promises can't count anymore. Except for this one"

"Which one?"

Slowly your hand trailed up your own shoulder to touch Knuckle's, caressing his fingers. Usually the embarrassment would be too much to handle. Your physical touch was always playful or angry, never intimate. But you don't have time to be embarrassed.

"Tomorrow you have to prioritize the mission, not me. Even if I'll be on the verge of death, you have to put our duty first, not me. I know that this goes against what we always said to each other, but please respect it. If the situation ever requires it, put the world before me"

Your fingers tighten around his hand harder. You feel yourself tearing up but you repress them. You grit your teeth and tremble. You start to really fear how you'll feel tomorrow if this is your reaction at just the idea of losing Knuckle. Would you ever take it?

"Alright, I'll do it"

Knuckle is surprised, but pleasantly. He really didn't want to fight with you tonight.

"But only if you'll do the same with me. If the situation requires it, choose the world and not me"

Knuckle holds your hand on your shoulders. He frowns. He always does it when he's conflicted. Then, he nods with determination in front of your eyes.

"Alright, I promise"

"Then I promise too"

Too focused on holding your hands, none of you noticed the free ones crossing their fingers behind your backs.

Dawn after the fight of East Gorteau

You broke your promise with Knuckle and Knuckle did the same for you. You woke up next to Ikalgo in a warehouse under East Gorteau's palace, where Meruem lived. The octopus explained to you that it was over, that the King was poisoned and was spending his last moments with Komugi, the girl you had in custody hours ago. You won. You're covered in wounds, but still able to stand up. You ended up like this while fighting against Youpi, throwing yourself in defense of Knuckle who fell in his trap. Your weapons were reduced to dust by the Royal Guard, but you were able to blind some of his eyes. However, the fight made both you and your Nen unable to fight. Your Nen was proven really effective against Royal Guards, so giving it up was a loss for your team and for the chances of saving humanity. You broke your promise. Knuckle did the same for you when Youpi threatened not only to kill Morel, but also yourself if he didn't deactivate Potclean. And so Knuckle did. You both broke the promise that you never intended to keep. After the fight you collapsed from tiredness and loss of blood. You had a brief and confused memory of Knuckle taking you in his arms before laying you down in a safe place. When you woke up, Ikalgo was next to you and told you the news.

"Where's Knuckle? Is he okay?!" you blurt out.

Ikalgo nods "The King knocked him out along with Meleoron, but he's fine. He should still be at one of the palaces towers"

Using your last energies, you stand up. Ikalgo cured all your wounds but scratches and cuts are still visible. Some scars will never go away.

"(Y/N)! Are you sure?" Ikalgo asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll go get him. Can you take me to him? There are some things that still haven't said to him and I thought I would never be able to"

Ikalgo, seeing your sincere and tired smile, nods. He takes you under one of his tentacles, supporting your body until you arrive in front of the room where Knuckle was laying down unconscious. You stand in the room. Sunlight beams through the window and delicately touch his sculpted body, his face still frowned in determination despite his loss of senses. You smile again, calm, before looking at Ikalgo. You exchange looks of understanding, then he trots towards Meleoron and takes away his sleeping but unscathed body.

It's just you and Knuckle now.

You get close to his body slowly, ruins crankling under your feet. You crouch down in front of him, sitting on your legs. You reach for his hair and start caressing them slowly. You almost don't want to wake him up, even though it's a tormented sleep caused by violence.

"Knuckle, it's me, (Y/N)"

His back rises as if he had been underwater for so long. He groans deeply before using all his energy to roll on his back. Now he's facing upwards, his gaze looking up at your calm and sweet smile. Knuckle squeezes and opens his eyes slowly, welcomed by your face. A small smile extends on his own face in response.

"(Y/N)..." he slurs, his voice raspy "you're alive...did we win?"

Carefully, you take Knuckle's head between your hands and slowly place it on your lap. He lets you do so without daring to protest.

"Yeah, we won. The King was poisoned and is spending his last hours in peace. It's over" you answer.

You gently start to caress his pompadour, now messy. Your delicate strokes go in tandem with your tired breaths.

"Great, but...I broke the promise" Knuckle goes on, a bit mortified.

"I did it too, it doesn't matter, I would do it again" you reply as you keep touching him.

You never had such an intimate moment, such a gentle touch under sun rays. You've never been so happy to see the sun rising.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to tell yo-"

"I'm in love with you"

You jump in surprise and spread your eyes open. For a moment you believe that he's just being delirious because of tiredness. But then you get lost in his gaze. Knuckle's face, always so angry and tough, completely melted in a tender and meek smile, kissed by the sun, pacified. You stop stroking his hair for a sec.

"What?"

"I'm in love with you, I really mean it. Tonight I realized how precarious the world is and that I couldn't afford to just not tell you" Knuckle says, in a whisper.

Your eyebrows arch upwards and a moved smile sprawls across your wounded face.

"I love you too, Knuckle"

Knuckle's reaction is similar to yours. Mouth slightly parted, a small inhale of surprise. It's really sweet. He didn't expect you to reciprocate, he didn't expect nothing from you in fact.

"(Y/N)..."

"I love you even though I always fight with you, even if you're hot-headed, stubborn, a braggart and with a weird haircut. But I love the way you care about others even when you deny it, and the way you cry for them. I love your haircut too, by the way. I just want to give you back the kindness you give to me and other people"

Your hands touches him again, this time caressing his cheek. Knuckle doesn't know what to say, words dying in his throat. You get lost in his eyes once again, then you snap out of it and your cheeks get hot.

"Ah-ehm, sorry...um...I wanted to say these things last night on the tree but I chickened out " you stutter awkwardly.

Knuckle breaks the silence with a laugh that echoes through the chamber.

"Hey, what are you laughing at?" you ask, scowling.

"It's funny, I wanted to confess too last night. Me and Shoot were talking about that, and that's why you scared us when you appeared out of nowhere. Ah, I don't even know why I told him!"

You chuckle "Maybe because you care about him a lot"

"That's not true, take that back!" Knuckle shouts, pointing a finger in your face.

Knuckle's face becomes a blushing mess, and you let yourself go in a laugh because Knuckle is always the same. Incapable of hiding his kindness and his affection towards other people. The finger aiming at your face touches your cheek, then under the eye, next thing you know his entire hand is encapsulating your cheek.

"Come over here..."

Without even realising it, you bend over Knuckle and you kiss. You often asked youself how kissing Knuckle would feel like, and this exactly corresponds to the idea. So delicate, but passionate. Knuckle's lips move on yours and you reciprocate immediately, closing your eyes. You press your mouth against his, it's warm like a hug of someone coming back from war. Warm like someone who couldn't wait anymore to say I love you. When you rise up you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but unsuccessfully. You're sure that your face is a mess, just like Knuckle's which is really hot red.

"Wow..." you whisper.

"Yeah, wow..." Knuckle murmurs, dumbfounded.

You look down at him again "What do you say if we wait for Morel and Shoot to get better, then we all go out to get drunk to celebrate, then we go make love in my apartment?"

"Hell yeah"

Knuckle gathers some energies to hoist himself on his elbows and sit up. You help him stand up, but you have to support each other under your arms because both of you are too tired. You start to walk out the room.

"And after that you'll be my girlfriend?" Knuckle asks.

"I'm pretty sure that I already am"

Suddenly, you hear some sniffling echoing through the empty palace alley. You turn around.

"Are you seriously crying right now? For real?" you ask, startled.

"Shut up! I'm not!'

"Yeah you are, idiot!"

"Don't you dare tell this to anyone, or..."

"Or?"

"I don't know, I can't do anything to you you're my girlfriend now!"

[leatafandom]

Sleepless Nights

Fandom/Ship: SPN - Dean Winchester x Reader (gender-neutral)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,064

Warnings and Tags: hunter reader, gender-neutral reader, established relationship, nightmares, angst, emotional pain, hurt/comfort, kisses, gentle reassurances, post hell Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean has always had nightmares, but they've different ever since he's been back.

Author Note: I've never written an x reader before, but I have been wanting to dip my toes in and when I heard that people didn't get their gifts in @spnfanficpond Secret Santa Event, I just had to give it a shot and do my best to give you a great present. I hope you enjoy a late gift @kayleighwinchester and happy super late holidays!

Read, Sleepless Nights, Rated Teen, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Sleepless Nights

A rustle beside you brought consciousness closer, but the long hunt had been exhausting. You resisted waking, but the warm body beside you moved once more, rolling and taking too many blankets with it to be comfortable. A grumble of unhappiness sounded, and hands moved to try to grapple for them. When they didn't come back to you easily, sleep abandoned you. Your hands reached for the twitching body, turning in the darkness towards him, finally cracking your eyes open.

"Babe," you called quietly into the shadow filled room. "Babe, you're dreaming and hogging all the blankets."

When the normally light sleeper didn't wake, more alertness pulled at your mind. It had you sitting up more in bed, eyes squinting in the darkness to make out the tense lines of Dean's sleeping face.

"Dean?" You shuffled closer, brows creasing when your boyfriend still refused to wake. "Dean, wake up," your voice loosing some of its quietness as concern started to overwhelm your features.

The brunette didn't wake until your hand touched his bare bicep and squeezed. The touch jolted the hunter awake, eyes snapping open and instantly on guard.

"Hey, you're okay," your hand rubbed over his chest as Dean took in quick breaths, eyes darting around the dark room. "You're home, you're with me. Hunt's done."

Dean swallowed, head nodding slowly as his hand came to grip yours. His breaths calmed, mumbling your name and whispering apologies.

"Didn't mean to wake you, sweetheart."

His eyes went to the blankets he was tangled in, groaning as he shifted to return half of them to you with another grumble.

The concern hadn't left your creased brow, weighing heavy on your heart. It wasn't the first time either of you had had nightmares, you'd seen Dean through ones that had haunted him since his teens, but after Hell it was different. He'd said that he didn't remember, kept saying it to anyone who asked, but the sheen of sweat on his brow and the lost look in his green eyes spoke a different story.

"Dean," you started slowly, hand still stroking over his tattoo, "you remember."

Dean's head turned to you, lips parting to deny it before looking in your sure gaze. "I don't want to," he said before his lips sealed, looking away from you and into the darkness.

"But you do. I know this is different, Dean," his hand squeezed yours and you squeezed back. "I know you don't wanna talk about it, don't want to worry anyone, but…" A sigh left your lips, wiping some of the sweat from Dean's brow with your other hand. "I'm going to worry no matter what."

"I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna bring it here." Dean's eyes glanced at you, swallowing thickly the dream still fresh in his mind. "To you."

A weak smile flashed across your lips before it faded, no matter how many hunts you had been on before meeting the brothers and after them, Dean's need to be protective had never faded. Your hand went back through his short locks, nails scratching at his scalp as the other moved to cup his cheek.

"Dean, you can't carry everything always. Not alone."

A scoff left him as your other hand joined the one on his cheek.

"I'm serious, Dean. Whatever happened, I'm not some civvy that can't handle shit," your thumbs caressed over his clenched jaw, feeling the tension there. "Talk to me."

Dean looked up at you, searching your face for something before finding it. You could feel the slow relaxation of his jaw while his hands moved to wrap around your sides.

"I did things," he started slowly, green eyes looking away from your gaze, avoiding it as much as he had been avoiding the subject. "I couldn't take it anymore and I…" his voice trailed off, swallowing thickly as he sniffed back the unsteady edge to his voice. "I can't get them out of my head. They're not dreams, dreams didn't happen. I-I did those things and I remember them all."

Throughout his words, you didn't let go of him. The lump that had been building from the pain that colored his every word, felt too large to swallow around. At his long pause, your hands swiped at his cheeks, sliding closer to him as he held you as if you would disappear with his confession.

"It was Hell, Dean," you reminded as his eyes closed. "You did what you had to," you tried to reassure. "What you needed to survive."

"You don't get it, I tortured people." Dean shook his head, jaw clenching once more. "I should have-"

"You did what you had to, Dean." When Dean tried to argue, your thumb pressed against soft lips. "No matter how fucked up it was, what were your options?" He frowned against your finger. "No one can last forever, Dean, not in Hell."

Dean's eyes closed, pressing a kiss to your thumb pad. "I feel it here, every time I pick up a blade I feel it," he whispered against your finger. "It's different, I'm different."

You felt yourself nod. "We're all different, Babe, four months or forty years… we're different." You slid back down, laying against him fully in the shared bed. "But I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here and so are you." Your hand moved to slid over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "We'll figure it out, together."

Dean opened his eyes, looking back at you unsure even as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist.

"I don't wanna scare you off," his fingers pressed into his eyes, "or keep you up all night."

One of your shoulders raised in a half shrug. "Not like I sleep much anyway," your hand patted his chest softly before closing the distance between you and kissing him with all the reassure and love you felt. "I'm here for you," you said against his lips as he dropped his hand from his face. "Just like you have been there for me ever since we met."

Dean nodded against his pillow, though you could tell it would be a long road to him opening up anymore about it. As he tried to resettle with you in his arms and find sleep once more, all you could hope was that he kept trying to share the pain and burdens he carried with you.

[weasleywinchester]

Save Yourself - Ch. 19

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Oh For One So Pure

Series Summary: “I promise.” Those two words would trap you in a life you never wanted. You are an artist, a hunter, a Winchester. And yet the pain in Dean’s eyes as demanded you live the life he wants you live, you couldn’t say no. You met the Winchesters by chance, found out they were real people. And you figured it was a once in a life time thing, but then Dean called you, and so did a new job. Both leading to the life you wanted, a family that didn’t begin or end in blood and a once in a life time love. And he said leave it and him behind, forget. But you can’t. Chapter Summary Jack is gone. Well, you know exactly where he is; with Mary in what you’ve all agreed is the Apocalypse world. Do any of you know how to get there? No. But what are Winchesters really good at? Distracting themselves with hunting. When Donna calls in a favor for hunting down a possible not-so-supernatural creep, the three of you practically leap through the phone. But this case, and the multiverse problem none of you know how to untangle, bring up some dormant feelings about what it means to be a hunter… and even more about what it means to be a Winchester.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, some fluff, some sad feels

You’ve been a Winchester long enough to have seen some crazy shit. And you’ve been a Supernatural fan long enough to know all the crazy shit. And when Donna called in a favor to find her niece, you kinda hoped it would be the most black and white monster case you could find. And as expected it was not. Finding a black market ebay for body parts wasn’t something you thought could exist. But if there’s a market, someone will always be there to fill it.

“I can’t believe you’ve been through this.” You grimace as Doug’s temporary fangs disappear.

“At least everyone here has souls.” Dean looks over at Sam, who purses his lips together as if he wishes he could forget that whole incident. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you quickly silence it.

“That’s the fourth time it’s rung.” Dean comments, raising a brow at you.

“Becky. I missed the last two meetings.” You confess. You were normally pretty good about warning her when you’d be busy with a hunt; but everything with Jack being so unpredictable…

“Call her back, we should be back at the bunker tomorrow.” Dean gives your hand a squeeze. You nod and walk out into the brisk night air.

“Hey, sorry about the last couple of weeks-”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” She shouts into the phone. “I thought the worst when your phone kept going to voicemail.” She lets out a long sigh, taking a few deep breaths.

“I could see that.” You chuckle.

“Don’t give me a heart attack like that!”

“I’ll do better in the future.” You hold up your hand in surrender. “But what’s up?”

“I have a few design projects I thought you could brainstorm on… And Sera’s been asking about the possibility of continuing the Supernatural books?” Her voice goes an octave higher at the mention of the books.

“Send me the ideas for the stuff to design-”

“Doug, wait!” You hear Donna yell.

“I’ll get back to you about the books-” You reach for the door to go back inside when it swings open and Doug runs into you.

“Doug?” You frown as he gathers himself. “Becky, I gotta go.” You abruptly hang up, lightly grabbing Doug’s shoulder. “Hey, what’s the rush?”

He stops, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Why do you stay?” He whispers, the defeat clear in his voice.

“Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Donna high and dry-“

“Why do you stay with Dean? Knowing about the– the monsters?” He corrects. The panic rolls off of him like a fog, tendrils curling and whispering for you to get lost in it. 

“What do ya mean?”

“Your husband fights vampires, werewolves… monsters! Things that aren’t supposed to exist! How can you stay?” He harshly whispers, as if saying it too loud makes it any more true. You stare blankly at him; sure you’ve seen plenty of people shaken after their first encounter with the supernatural; but Doug? He’s had to have seen gruesome stuff in his time on the force.

“It’s his job,” you frown, “It would be the same if he were in the military or law enforcement.” You watch as he recedes into his whatever panic storm is happening in his mind. “Are you ok? Did you talk with Donna?” You place a hand on his shoulder, his whole body deflating at your touch.

“I wanted to be a cop to help folks. I didn’t sign on for monsters.” He looks off into the distance, the recent horrors he just witnessed clearly dancing in front of his eyes.

“That’s all Dean and Sam do, save people.” You smile, leaning forward until you catch his gaze. “They unfortunately didn’t have a no monster option. It’s also why Dean gets three hours of sleep a week, can drink a liquor store dry and has enough trauma that any regular person would go insane.”

“And you’re ok with that?” He scoffs, shaking his head at all the terrifying possibilities about what your words mean.

“I didn’t marry him because I think I can fix him. I love him, as he is.” You shrug, watching the thoughts churn in his head as he tries to figure out the next move. “You’re really going to give up Donna because she fights monsters?” You haven’t spent nearly as much time with Donna as you like, but the one thing you know for sure if you both will hang onto your husbands no matter the price.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough.” He whispers. You sigh, pulling him into a hug.

“She thinks you are. And so do I.” You squeeze him tight. “Can I tell you something?” You ask as you let him go. He gives you a small nod, wiping a tear away. “Leaving Donna won’t make the fear go away. It won’t stop you from looking at every person differently. It won’t change the fact that you know what lurks in the dark. But trust me when I say that having her by your side is better than any future without her.” He studies you for a moment, brain calculating all the scenarios.

“Does Dean feel that about you?” He whispers. 

The question punches you right in the gut. It should have been a simple answer. A yes of course he does, that’s why we're married. But your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. Every moment where Dean has pushed you away, told you to leave, to forget, comes rushing to the forefront. And here you stand. Telling Doug he should stay; that he should want to stay. But you have no evidence that it would be good for him; that he could continue on with his life as normal. The one thing you learned being with Dean is that you were involved with the family business whether you wanted it or not. It’s just how it went being close to a hunter.

The motel door creaks open, Sam and Donna making their way to the car.

“Ready sweetheart?” Dean asks, taking your hand.

“Ya.” You smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze as you turn back to Doug. “Talk with Donna, she deserves that. You both deserve to make a decision together.” You give Doug a small smile, letting Dean guide you to the car.

_______

One thing nice about driving with the boys is you could boot Sammy to the front and sprawl out in the back. Dean even keeps a little blanket in the trunk for you. Leather seats are three things: cold, hot or sticky. Can’t have baby makin you uncomfortable sweetheart. You smile at the memory as you stare at the back of Dean’s head. The rain gently thumps at the windows, Sammy’s fingers clacking against the keys of his laptop.

“You were a little tough on Donna back there.” Dean states, keeping his voice low to not disturb you.

“What?” Sam frowns, the clacking coming to an abrupt stop.

“Just sayin’.” Dean shrugs, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he told Donna to let Doug go; Sam, telling her to let the love of her life go. 

“Was I wrong? I mean, when has knowing us ever worked out for anyone?” His eyes flick to you as you roll to face the back of the seat.

“(Y/N)?” Dean shrugs.

“What?”

“It’s worked out for (Y/N), according to her.” Dean clarifies.

“Oh ya, I bet she always dreamed of falling in love with a guy who constantly tells her she can’t be a hunter because she could die. And who constantly makes life altering decisions for her.” Sam deadpans.

“We save people, Sam.” He points out. Save tons of people, every day, every year. That has to count for something.

“Yeah, we also get people killed, Dean. Kaia, for instance. She helped us and she died for it. And the list of (Y/N) getting hurt or almost dead isn’t exactly short.”

“Hey, look, I know you’re in some sort of a—” 

“No, no, no, don’t – don’t… You keep saying I’m in a dark place, but I’m not, Dean. Everything I’m saying is the truth. It’s our lives. And I tried to pretend it didn’t have to be. I tried to pretend (Y/N) would be safe, that we could have Mom back and Cas and – and help Jack. But we can’t. This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody.”

The three of you sit in silence. Dean always told you he would go down fighting; it always seemed to be the hand he was dealt. He just never actually died, so you both had agreed that maybe that’s not the true end designed for him. But Sam giving up on the happily ever after? That was just as bad as you giving up…

“You’re the reason she holds on so tight.” He whispers, seeing Sam turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. “You told her to always keep fighting; to fight for the life she wants, to fight for me. I was prepared to let her go years ago. Prepared for my soul to ache for the rest of my life.” He accuses. “But you’re the one who said to not give her up. To fight for her. Why –”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.” Sam interrupts. You shift in your seat, moving your blanket to muffle the sound of your heart breaking.

_______

One would think spending their whole life fighting everything that lurks in the dark would make it uncomfortable. But as Sam lays in the pitch black of his room, he feels calm. He’s embraced the fact that he lives in the dark, like some creature waiting for whatever fight is next. No searching for something to hold on to, for hope about the future.

God was no better than any other supernatural being, Mom and Jack are as good as dead… After tossing and turning he gets up, easily making his way down the hall in the dark. He stops at your studio door and listens; he can hear the faint clicking of your keyboard accompanied by a faint static noise he can only assume is music. He gently pushes the door, you’re bopping your head along to whatever’s coming through your headphones as you mess with a project on your computer.

He lets his eyes wander around the room; it’s filled with fabric, blank canvases, half painted paintings, partially done costumes and a large wall of books. This room is very much you; warm, inviting and filled with things that make you happy. It was often a safe space for him, both when you were in it and when you weren’t. You both had many late night conversations about anything that came to mind, talked through a lot of the darkness he carried with him.

“Geezus Sammy!” You jump out of your chair, nearly knocking over your water bottle. “Scared the tarts out of me!” You move it out of arms reach and slide off your headphones.

“Right, sorry.” He frowns. You tilt your head to the side, walking over to him and gently taking his hands in yours.

“You ok?” you ask. He gives you a curt nod, eyes looking anywhere but at you.

“Whatever happened to that painting, the one with the two hands holding onto each other?”

“It’s here, haven’t got around to hanging it up.” You pull it out from a stack that’s leaned against the wall, putting it up on your easel and sliding the fabric sheet off to reveal it.

“Always keep fighting.” Sam mumbles, his fingers gently tracing the words. It’s written dozens of times in the background, your perfect sloppy writing making it feel like you’re telling him to do just that.

“Sammy!” You yell over your shoulder in the general direction of his room.

“Ya?” He yells back.

“Come here!”

He pads down the hall, standing in your doorway.

“Need you to hand model with me.” You wave him over. You take one hand, having  him wrap his fingers around your wrist while you do the same. “Now pull.”

He pulls, a little too hard, and you ram into his chest.

“Not that hard Sammy!” you giggle. 

“Ok, ok… not that hard. Got it.”

He huffs in amusement at the memory. It seemed silly at the time but it’s moving to see your hand holding him up, keeping him from slipping away.

“Why is one side written upside down?”

“Because love flows both ways.” You rotate the picture so now his hand is holding yours. You slot your hand into his, leaning your head on his arm as the two of you study it.

“What if holding on was the mistake?” He asks.

“It wasn’t.” You can feel him shift against you. “I didn’t walk into this life blind Sam.” You bite down on your tongue, praying the tears not to slip down your face. “I-”

He pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tight. He has always pulled you closer; pulled you into the hunting life, into his brother’s life, into his own life. Selfish. It was the only word that came to his mind. He always thought that karma would follow through. That every single monster he and Dean put in the ground would let them have just a sliver of something good. And he was hoping it would be you. But maybe Dean was right this whole time, you’ll only end up hurt or dead.

@deansqtpie

@supraveng

@winchestersgirl222

@fantasy-myth1

@laycblack

@urgirlarrielle

@akshi8278

@arctusluna

@malindacath

@lyarr24

@flamencodiva

@havesaltwilltravel

@deansbbyx

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Series Master List

[aceofcaydes01]

I started this all the way back at the end of Season of the Lost and just now finished it.

Inspired by @a-driftamongopenstars' Old Light, New Light series.

“Are you sure?” Ace asked, looking to where her right hand was extended and her Ghost floated in her palm. He vibrated gently in a reassuring manner. “I’ve spoken with Glint, he needs you right now.” Ghost says to you through your telepathic connection. You nodded and you were instantly transmatted to the loading bay of the Radiant Accipiter.

“Crow?” You ask softly as you approach, both he and Glint looked up at the sound of your voice. You stood there for a second, trying to assess whether or not he wanted your company, only moving when you felt the gentle prod of Glint between your shoulders, urging you forward. Your armor and weapons disappeared as you stepped forward, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Ghost vanish with Glint.

“Are these eyes the ones that haunt you at night?” Crow asks, leveling you with his gaze as you approach him fully.

For years whenever you tried to sleep, all you could see in your dreams was Uldren’s glowing glare as he pulled Ace of Spades’ trigger and shattered your life.

As weird as it was, you’d found comfort in Crow. Your anger at seeing him risen as a Guardian slowly faded as you’d seen first hand how earnest he was, how innocent. He was the opposite of Uldren, the fact that he was a fellow Hunter was just cruel irony. A tentative friendship had developed after you’d saved him and Glint from Spider’s employ. Ghost urged you to tell Crow in the early stages of your friendship, you hadn’t, and were now regretting not taking his counsel.

You gaze into the warm glow of his amber eyes, and to his surprise, you smile. “No. I don’t see any trace of Uldren in your eyes, Crow.” You say, holding his gaze, and you feel his body relax slightly next to yours.

“Now I know why you always looked at me that way.” He says softly as he looks down to the knife in his hand, the one you’d given him last Dawning. He looks back up into your eyes as you speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t know how.” You say quietly, knowing his mind must be reeling from whatever Savathûn said or showed him of his past life.

You put on a brave face, but you still carried the weight of Cayde’s death. The fact that you had feelings for who was once his killer wasn’t helping your guilt any. You knew that Cayde would want you to be happy, and Crow made you so so happy.

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have known what to say either, Guardian.” Crow replies, reaching out for your hand, your fingers entwine and you stand there looking out at the Dreaming City. Crow had already been in orbit there when you joined him.

“Were you going to go down there and see your sister?” You ask after a comfortable silence, hoping it isn’t a sensitive topic.

“No. I returned here to see if I would feel anything. I don’t, and it seems strange that I was on the Tangled Shore for so long and I had no idea that my former home was right there all along.” Crow replies with a shrug, turning away from the window and going to an overhead compartment, pulling you with him by your entwined fingers. “This is for you.” Crow says, holding out a blue box with white and gold stars on it and a gold ribbon.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” You reply as you accept it, feeling a blush start to color your cheeks.

“I know. I wanted to.” Crow replies, and you share a smile before you ease off the top and push away the tissue paper. Inside is a black knife with a white spade on the blade and the wings of a crow on the handle. It was an obviously expensive Eververse commission and you were speechless.

“Crow- Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You manage, turning to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug.

“You’re welcome. Now you can take us both with you, always.” Crow replies, squeezing you gently as his arms wrap around you.

[almostcolorfulcolor]

Death Note, meet Supernatural- CHAPTER 1

Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader, L (Death Note)/Original Female Character(s)

Summary: What if Death Note existed in a world with Winchesters in it? Would L finally have the evidence he needs to prove Light is Kira? How will L fare in a world where monsters are real and not every case is solvable by him? Lucky for him, there's a hunter here to work side-by-side with him.

Chapter Summary: With data from L's investigation, it wouldn't have taken long for a hunter to find the mystery of Death Note, find the Shinigami and Kira, and ganking them both. If you're curious about how it plays out, read on!

Chapter 1: Japan, here I come!

I open my burning eyes. Tears blur my vision as I try to forget the images from my latest nightmare. My boys…my poor boys…“I will bring you both back”, I promise…for over the 100th time. Shaking off my thoughts, I get ready for the day mentally ticking off my checklist for my trip to Japan. The first truly big nuisance since Dick Roman, this Kira, was killing off criminals left and right.

It was not my typical case but something about Kira’s requirements of killing was supernatural. He needed a name and face to kill. With just those, he could kill anyone from anywhere. Which human could do that? And even if they could, the means had to be supernatural. Perhaps they made a demon deal, or Kira used a cursed object. Not only that, there was perhaps someone else with Kira’s power who only needed a face to kill. 3 Japanese police officers dropped dead during a TV broadcast- names unknown.

The world’s security agencies were stumped. The number 1 detective in the world, L, was working on it but even he hadn’t been able to put a stop to Kira's killings till now. I could only assume it was because of the supernatural factor. Which made it my responsibility. What the hell those Japanese hunters were doing I didn’t know- and I couldn’t find out because not many hunters trusted my little Team Free Will after the whole opening of the Devil’s Gate, starting the Apocalypse and releasing the Leviathans into the world. Couldn’t blame them tbh.

It did make this whole investigation pretty hard though. If only Sam was here…This was my problem. I had become so tangled up with the Winchesters that it was impossible for me to not think about them for more than 10 minutes. I was on my own now. Alone. A lone wolf. And I was about to feel like absolute shit once I landed in Japan and my social awkwardness came out to play in a foreign country whose language I wasn't familiar with. Fingers crossed.

—One plane ride later—

First stop, Wakoucha at the airport cafe. Overpriced but worth every yen. After a couple of sips, I got my bearings and hauled ass to the hotel the FBI director set me up at. Presidential suite, of course. Exorcising a demon outta his brother would go a long way.

A ping on my laptop draws my attention. A video call from the guy himself. Answering it, I say, “Hey, I just got to—” when he makes a shushing gesture. I pipe down, curious to see what he’s on about. He holds up a piece of paper for me to read. Surprisingly, I can read it perfectly. Which means someone must have taken the pain to write it inverted. There’s no doubt what it is. At my nod, he promptly sets fire to the paper with a lighter, gives me a thumbs up and ends the call.

Well, then. No time to waste.

I change into the charming suit that makes me look like a cinnamon roll, idiots never see it coming when I gank them. All geared up I go to my FBI-issued car (I miss Baby) and head up to meet the famous L and the officially “disbanded” taskforce.

—Time Skip—

The building is quite ordinary from the outside. The same old grey skyscraper with the corporate soul-sucking vibe. Somewhere inside there is a group of people with whom I will be catching a killer with supernatural powers. L’s right-hand man was informed of my arrival and he was waiting for me right as I step in the doors. He’s completely covered from head to toe so that I cannot even get one glimpse of his skin. The only thing I can say is he’s tall. The dude’s just standing there until I clear my throat and speak, “Verification?”. Nodding, he starts-“Jefferson” and I finish-“Starship”.

Codes confirmed, he wordlessly leads me down the lobby. The security inside is no joke. When the detectors beep, he gestures to me to upturn my pockets. Knowing there’s no way out of this, I take out the couple of guns and knives I had on me. He even confiscates my mobile phone. The holy water’s filled in a disposable plastic bottle so I can easily take it past the checkpoint. No way I could’ve broken in here on my own. I can’t help but feel like a dumb kid who doesn’t know the hell she’s doing. Before, with Sam and Dean, it was just natural to feel confident and self-assured. I try to channel some of that right now and attempt to make conversation. “Call me Anne (Pick your fake name). Pleased to meet you. How’s the case coming along sir? Any new leads since we last talked?” To my credit, my voice only wavers for 5 seconds max. The guy gives me a side glance but doesn’t respond. Not to be discouraged any more than I already am, I barrel on. “So I’ve been following this case like everybody and I already have a couple of theories- I can’t share them yet- but I’d like to ask you something about L. I’ve heard he’s a bit…moody and I don’t want to butt heads with him on the investigation or make him feel like I’m taking over. Any words of advice on how to make this smooth sailing?”

Silence. Fine then. I’ve already given too much power to him. Now it’s time to be all tough and laconic myself. We take the elevator and stop several floors up. My heart is fluttering as a tall dude leads me to a set of doors and just throws them open. Every head snaps my way. Well, shit.

I flashback to 1st grade when I changed schools. The teacher was mean and made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I hated her then and I hate the tall dude now. I turn to glare at him to find out he’s already left. Turning to face my audience, I wave and give a sheepish smile. I know I just look like a dork. God, what’s wrong with me? When did I suddenly become a schoolgirl? These guys will never take me seriously now. Damn it.

I jump when a voice pulls me out of my self-criticism, “Who are you? How did you get in?” It’s a guy about Bo…60 years old pointing a gun at me. Nearly everyone is except a couple of boys. I start to answer but another voice cuts me off. A warm, gravelly, soothing voice. “She’s our newest member.” It takes me a moment to realize the speaker is this cute little weirdo sitting in a big chair in front of a gigantic screen. Seriously, just wow. A moment of appreciation is required here. This guy is soooooo cute. I drink in his features- his big bambi eyes, his chaotic raven hair that I long to feel, his perfect mouth as he pops in a marshmall- “We have to tolerate her for now as the FBI has forced her upon us”, the said mouth pipes up. And just like that my fantasies take a sharp turn and I see my fist connecting with his teeth and his perfect mouth bloody.

Feeling sufficiently insulted, I snark back, “Shut the hell up, asshole. Like I’m thrilled to be forced to work with a bunch of incompetent jackasses who haven’t been able to catch a pathetic killer in months. The headquarters had to send in a babysitter to mind the greatly overrated L. Make sure you give me the case report before you choke to death stuffing your cakehole and do Kira’s work for him.”

His eyes narrow and I ain’t backing down. Let’s show him who’s boss.

A/N:

Thanks for reading my first work! More chapters to come- I've got the plot ready, hope you enjoy it :)

(Please reblog and comment if you please- they fuel my passion. Constructive criticism and genuine praise always help too!)

Until next time! CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

[citrus-writing]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

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

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

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

[supernaturalwolf]

Y/n: with stiles it’s always “Lydia Lydia Lydia-”

Isaac: can’t relate because for me it’s always “you you you.”

Y/n: You? That’s a stupid name …

Isaac: … I don’t know why I like you.

Y/n: maybe it’s because of the name -

[freyadragonlord]

I found this meme chart and I SawTM them.

[the-halloween-jack]

ｒｅｖｅｎａｎｔ － ｓｅｖｅｎ

PART SEVEN OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader  The Vampire Diaries x SupernaturalMini-Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence. Words: 3,277k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist <Previous Part | Next Part >

The first thing Y/N registered when she woke up on an uncomfortable wooden table was an enigmatic lack of pain, there should have been pain. Memories of an excruciating white-hot agony from her back followed by a cascading stream of blood came back to her; she had been injured on the hunt. However, upon pulling down the back of her shirt and looking over her shoulder, no such wound could be found. Her skin was completely bare. She recalled memories of her brothers clutching onto her limp body, their tears mixing in with her blood. 

Everything had gone dark, and her body had fallen limp. 

She was dead. Or at least she had been. Y/N had already concluded that her brothers had done something inconceivably stupid, that maybe, one of them, had sold their souls. Y/N could feel tears welling up in her eyes, this had been her fault. If she had never begun the Mystic Falls case this would not be happening. The tears that had welled suddenly ran hot down her face. She could not lose either one of her brothers like this. Something had to be done. Though through her tears Y/N did not register the sound of a scuffle swiftly approaching her.

‘Y/N?…’ Her head whipped up to the sound of her name.

‘How… are you… alive…?’ Dean whispered as Sam’s eyes widened,

‘Oh please… god no… don’t say it…’ he winced, Dean looked up with furrowed eyebrows,

‘Don’t say what? Sammy?’

But Sam did not need to say anything, the realisation hit Y/N like a wave of paralysis. She had had vampire blood in her system. She counted the time back in her head. When she had died, it had been less than twenty-four hours since Damon had saved her the night before. Neither of her brothers had sold their souls and the relief she felt at the revelation was as sweet as sugar. However, this relief quickly turned to aghast and her stomach twisted unpleasantly.

There were only two options for her now.

Death.

Or an eternal life as a monster she had been raised to detest.

‘No, no, no… no, no… no’ She began to claw at the bare skin that should have been holding a fatal stab wound as she repeated her denial over and over. She then lifted her fingers to her scalp rubbing her temples as she began to rock back and forth. The lights and sounds of the motel’s run-down suite were suddenly too much for her and she shuddered when she realised why.

‘Y/N calm down, you’re scaring me, just minutes ago Sam and I refused to accept that we should be burying you… and now… how…’ Dean's voice was nervous and confused,

‘Dean… I think she had vampire blood in her system…’ Sam whimpered, Dean’s shocked gasp only worsened her state, she began sobbing openly,

‘Sam… How could you possibly know…?’ She thought of everything she had said about Mystic Falls since their reunion and she was confident she had never mentioned she knew a vampire personally. Sam winced, her question confirming his fears.

‘You seemed pretty evasive in the car when we were asking about Mystic Falls, but you mentioned there were vampires…’ Sam paused for a moment,

‘You were dead, Y/N. And now you’re not. There aren’t many things that could do that.’ Sam explained, his voice hollow.

‘Which blood-sucking freak did this to you?! Was it this Damon…?!’ Dean's booming voice made Y/N flinch,

‘He didn’t have a choice, I would’ve died then too…’ She muttered,

‘Well, maybe he should have let you.’ He said bitterly, Y/N could see the instantaneous regret on the eldest Winchester’s face, but that did not soften the blow of his cruel words.

‘Wait! I only meant that… if you had died then… we could have brought you back another way… as a human’

Though it seemed to Y/N that Dean had only added this to cover his outburst so without saying anything further, Y/N got up from the rickety table and swiftly made her way to the bathroom, grabbing her bags as she went.

‘Y/N… Wait!’ Sam called,

‘I need a shower’ She muttered as she slammed the door behind her. This was not a lie, however, she had no intention of staying afterwards. 

As the water turned warm she peeled the bloodied clothes from her skin and placed them on the toilet seat; deciding that Sam and Dean could deal with them later. The water ran red around her feet, it seemed like she had been scrubbing at her skin perpetually, grateful when the shower eventually turned clear. She put on the first things she could find in her bag, relieved to be in fresh clothes. 

Y/N understood it was not safe to be around her brothers at the moment, and besides, after what Dean had said, she did not wish to be. She studied the bathroom, looking for her best way out. The window was high above the bathtub and if she stood on the edge she could pull herself up and out. She plugged in the hairdryer, needing a loud sound to buffer hers. 

With utmost care, she tried her best to push the window open with little noise. She was convinced it had been years since it was opened, as it groaned and resisted the disturbance. She first put her bags through and then hauled herself up, landing with a soft thud.

Y/N made her way across the darkening street, and sighed, how long had she been ‘asleep’? Through glazed eyes, she scrolled through the names of her contacts and once finding the one she was after, she lifted the device to her ear.

‘Damon, where are you? We need to talk…’ Her voice broke.

Through clouded eyes, Y/N watched as Damon’s old blue Chevy pulled over, she had asked to meet him a few blocks down as she had been hiding, knowing full well her brothers would be looking for her by now. Her countless missed calls said so. She was quick to get in.

‘Please drive’ She muttered

‘Hey, are you okay?’ His eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to push the hair from her face, though when she flinched away from his touch, Damon quickly retracted his hand.

‘Y/N…?’

‘Just drive, please.’

Damon took his car out of park and pulled out onto the street. The hours that followed travelling back to Mystic Falls were filled with a taut silence, though Damon often made small glances in Y/N’s direction, every time he tried to speak up his attempt was dismissed, though it seemed he could not wait any longer,

‘Would you please tell me what’s wrong?’

Y/N considered whether it was appropriate to tell him in the car, though she quickly ridiculed this thought; her time was limited.

‘After I left town, my brothers and I went on a hunt…’ Damon did not like the idea of Y/N hunting, putting herself in unnecessary danger, but did not understand why this would leave her so dejected, he assumed she would have been looking forward to spending some time with them.

Damon felt a small, nagging frustration at her brothers, many things could have gone awry on a hunt, and he hated the idea of them putting her in harms way intentionally. However, as he examined her from head to toe, he realised she seemed physically fine. 

When he did not speak, Y/N elaborated.

‘I was injured, really badly…’ Y/N felt herself recoil, she did not want to think about the situation she was in and what she would have to do if she went through with it. Damon looked her over again,

‘What happened? I can’t see anything.’ His words were dubious, yet he still felt queasy at the idea she was hurt. She sighed and closed her eyes,

‘Damon… I died..’

The silence that hung in the air was palpable, Y/N swore she could have sliced it with a blade. A small gasp passed his lips so quiet she shivered; aware the soft sound could only be heard with her newly inhumane sense of hearing. Damon felt an all-consuming anger, how could they have let her die? How could they be so reckless? 

He felt nauseated, knowing how close he had been to never seeing her again. Imagining her cold and unresponsive figure sent tremors through his system.

‘Y/N… My blood…’ She could not hold back her tears anymore, everything that had been tormenting her since she fled from her brothers’ company consumed her. She vaguely noticed Damon pulling over his car and before she could say anything further, he had already sped around to her door and pulled her out; enveloping her in an unyielding embrace.

‘I’m so sorry, I know you would never have wanted this… ’ he choked out, seeing her suffering created his own. But he could not quell the selfish contentment he derived from this. Soon Y/N will be a vampire, she will be powerful; and immortal. She will be adept at protecting herself when he is not able. But more desirably, a life with her is within reach. She will not age, as he has not for a century and a half. He could have eternity with her. 

However, Y/N’s next words abruptly stifled this concept.

‘It’s okay, I would have died anyway, at least now I have the chance to say goodbye to everyone’ 

Y/N did not remember coming to this conclusion, but as the words flowed from her mouth she knew it was the right decision, though her thoughts halted when a realisation struck her; she had stormed out on her brothers and now she would probably never see them again, she must have been hours away from their motel by now. Damon drew back from their tight embrace, horrorstruck, again he pictured her cold and unresponsive; he felt those horrible tremors flood his being once more.

‘Y/N? What do you mean goodbye? Don’t tell me… you're planning on…’ Although he did not finish his sentence Y/N knew exactly what he was trying to say,

‘I can’t turn Damon, I’ve grown up hunting the very thing I will become, my brothers won’t be able to look me in the eye, hell, they may even want to kill me. My father would turn in his grave if he thought I was even considering it.’ Her words flowed hot and fast much like the tears streaming down her face, 

‘I can’t become a monster Damon, let’s just say I took on the Stefan diet or drank from blood bags, it would never last, have you ever heard of a vampire that’s never killed? They don’t exist. One day I’ll lose control and someone will lose their life because of it, I can’t, I won’t become a killer…’ 

Damon's buried rationality knew what she was saying was right, but he could not accept the fact she wanted to die. No, he would do everything in his power to get her to stay. He had lost too many people in his century and a half of existence, but nothing had hurt him like this would. 

‘Please Y/N, please don’t do this, mistakes happen and I can’t promise you anything, but you’re going to have so many people helping you, and I’m sure every one of us will do everything in our power to make sure no one is hurt because of this, Please… I can’t lose you…’ When his voice broke on the last words Y/N shut her eyes and sighed she hated hurting him like this,

‘Damon, I can’t… Please understand…’ she whimpered, Damon shaking his head in denial,

‘I need to call my brothers, I left without saying goodbye.’ 

Her body was riddled with guilt, how could she justify leaving them at a time like this? What had she been thinking? Y/N decided she would call them, it would be better than nothing. Though before she had the chance to ring them and make the broken ends meet, she realised hollowly that Damon was nowhere to be seen. She looked around the darkening street, she could see every last detail; a feat her eyes would not have been able to achieve a day ago. Damon had left her alone, his engine still running. 

She hated seeing him like this, she hated knowing that she was the reason he was hurting; and from what she had been told, Damon was not reasonable when he was hurt. How had they gotten to be this way? Hunter and vampire, trying to court each other.

She decided she should probably look for him, but before she could trek further down the lonesome street she was struggling against the pull of strong arms around her. Looking down she observed an ornate lapis lazuli ring, the very one Y/N knew Damon wore, what could he possibly be doing? Y/N had just been about to call out when she felt warm skin against her mouth, she assumed Damon had been preventing her from yelling when the taste of a warm metallic liquid met her lips. Damon was holding a stranger against her, pressing her wrist to her mouth. Y/N felt a sense of alarm growing in the back of her mind but before she could try and writhe from his iron grip the taste turned sweet; she stopped struggling, not able to remember why she wanted to escape in the first place, and clutched the wrist of the stranger closer still. She wanted this sensation to last forever, she had never tasted anything as delectable, but it all ended too soon when Damon pulled the girl from her arms.

‘Don’t worry, she’s not dead.’ Y/N watched in horror as the skin under his eyes formed inky black veins and newly formed fangs met his wrist, when Damon placed his bloodied skin to the mouth of the limp girl the weight of what had happened crushed her.

‘Damon… What did you do?…’ Y/N’s voice was low and dangerous, she turned away from his rueful grimace, a puddle on the street showing that her face now mirrored his. Awful black veins protruded beneath her eyes, she watched as the sclera of her eyes shifted back from red to white.

‘I know you may never forgive me, I understood that before I did it, but I couldn’t let you go through with it, I couldn’t let you die.’

Y/N felt a white-hot rage grow in her chest, 

‘THAT WASN’T YOUR DECISION TO MAKE!’ She pushed against his unyielding frame, her newfound strength still nothing to his century and a half. His lips formed a straight line and his eyes glassed over. 

‘I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so sorry…’ His words were whispered, she could hear his pain but she refused to pity him. 

‘Damon… I was meant to die…’ She trailed off, ‘My brothers…. They’ll want to kill me…’

‘No, no, this can’t happen…no.’ She began to pace the street, back and forth, rubbing her temples. She was ready to die, she would have been at peace; something now forever out of reach. She looked towards Damon, his tears were falling freely now, face contorted into a tortured expression. 

‘Damon… why…?’ Her voice was broken, she turned away.

Her anger dwindled, like sand through her fingers. Because despite everything he had done, she did not want to see him hurt. She wanted to hate him for what he did, to scream and shout, but she could not find it within herself to detest him. No, she could never hate him. 

Would she not commit the same, selfish act for the person she loved? Would she not have done it too, if the roles had been reversed? For a moment, she considered the awful concept of Damon’s death and all the abominable things she would do to prevent it. And if this dark imagining of hers occurred anyway, she knew she would go to great, grim lengths to reverse it. She realised Damon had only done exactly as she would do, he had only done what the Winchester siblings had already done; many times over. 

Y/N recalled the potent fear she felt, as she lay dying. She had thought she would never see Damon again and that pain had been more excruciating than her fatal wound. And here he was standing before her, his expression distorted to regretful woe because he had only wanted her to live. She once again pondered what it would mean to never see him again, she felt a distant echo of that earlier pain; maybe she had not been ready to die after all. 

At this moment, she was only angry with herself. Y/N knew that none of this would have occurred if she had not gone to Mystic Falls. But what surprised her the most, was that she also could not find it within herself to regret any of this. Everything Y/N had done, led her to meet him; and meeting Damon had been the greatest procurement of her life, or rather, exsistence. This realisation crushed her like an avalanche; exsistence. ‘Life’ no longer applied to her, she was immortal. Y/N would exist forever.

She began to consider what forever truly meant. A hundred years from now, Y/N would stand before her reflection, and she would look exactly as she does at this moment. The world would have changed to a vast extent, but she would remain unchanging.

Only yesterday she had yearned to wake up beside Damon every morning and spend all day by his side. Y/N had longed to listen to his stupid jokes and talk endlessly with him until night fell and they could begin over again. Eternity had made that possible. And in a hundred years when she looked into that mirror, she could now envision Damon by her side; as he was now. Her heart swelled with a palpable warmth. Maybe eternity was not so bad. 

Damon observed her deliberation, waiting for her to explode. She realised her demeanour must have changed completely during her sudden erudition, as she turned back she noticed Damon now donned an expression of dubiety. But she did not take the time to explain, instead rushing to envelop him in her embrace, leaning back far enough to connect her lips with his, she could taste his drying tears. 

Y/N had surprised him, but he melted into her kiss anyway. She could feel his tense trepidation flow out from beneath her fingertips, as he sighed, content. Damon could not comprehend her sudden tranquil composure, he knew he most certainly did not deserve it. He assumed what he had done would have driven her away for good, he had understood that when he acted. But Damon refused to live in a world where she did not exist, even if it meant she was not with him; it was enough to know she would be alive and well. Never would he have imagined she would accept this so willingly, what had changed in her few moments of quiet thought? 

Y/N finally pulled away and rested her forehead against his.

‘I hope you know you’re stuck with me now?’ Her voice was quiet,

Damon’s laugh was relieved, coming out in an exhaled breath; his voice still holding the faint hallmarks of someone with regret.

‘That’s all I’ve wanted.’

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