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dianawinchester03 · 10 hours

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Season 2, Episode 17 - Heart

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Since this is a sad episode, I made some memes to lighten the mood <3

And I know, it’s been a while since my last update. I apologize and I truly hope you guys aren’t mad at me. I’ve been a little demotivated if I’m being honest (which is why I wrote my short story of Dean Smith) so I took a little break, read some books and other wonderful authors short stories and now I’m back! So I hope everyone enjoys🥰

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Third Person POV

San Francisco, California

“Here he is detectives” The coroner said to Sam and Y/N as she pulled the mutilated body out from the body drawer. Bite marks, scratches and claw marks coated his pale corpse. “That’s a pretty nasty bite” Sam commented in a low tone as he and y/n scanned the body. “Mm-hmm” The coroner hummed. “You know what bit him?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I haven’t quite determined that just yet” The coroner shrugged. Y/N scoffed, flashing the woman a coy smile, “Come on, doc. Off the record” She said in a persuasive tone. The female coroner blushed lightly, “Okay, way, wayy off record” She hesitated. “Sure, hun” Y/N said gently, smiling slyly at the woman. She took a deep breath before saying, “If i didn’t know better, I’d say the guy was attacked by a wolf”

Sam and Y/N shared a look at this, “But, unless I know that the zoo is missing one of their lobos. I’m going with a pitbull. I like my job” She flashed a wink at Y/N as she said this, a small smirk played on the hunters lips. “Yeah, we hear you” Sam chuckled, “One more thing, this guy. Was his heart missing?” Sam asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The coroner raised her brows at Sam, “Yeah, how did you know that? I haven’t even finished my report” The coroner said in suspicion. “Lucky guess” Y/N assured her.

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“This lawyer guy’s the first heart-free corpse in town?” Dean asked as he and Y/N sat at the dining room table in her safe house, cleaning their guns. “First man” Y/N told him. “Over the past year several women have gone missing” Sam chimed in, pushing himself up from the couch to head over to the fridge, taking out a beer.

“Their bodies all washed up in the bay, too deteriorated to draw firm conclusions” He added as he walked over to the dining room table, snatching a chair before turning it around and straddling it. “But no hearts?” Dean asked, an excited look on his face. “No hearts?” Y/N shook her head as she wiped the gun and Sam popped open his beer.

“They were all hookers working at Hunter’s Point. Now cops are trying to keep things under wraps because they think that they’re looking for a serial killer” Y/N explained as she kicked her feet up on the table after resting down the last gun. “And the lunar cycle?” Dean queried. “Mmhmm” Sam hummed as he sipped his beer.

“Yeah, month after month, all the murders happened in the week leading up to the full moon” He confirmed. “Which is this week, right?” Dean questioned, “Hence the lawyer” Y/N shrugged, picking up her own beer which was residing on the table, sipping it. “Awesome” Dean grinned, snatching Y/N’s feet from the table before settling it on his lap.

Sam and Y/N shared a look due to his tone while Y/N tried to ignore the racing of her heart when Dean snatched her feet from the table. “Charming, could you be a bigger geek about this?” She scoffed as he reached into his duffel bag on the table to retrieve a case of silver bullets, “I’m sorry, princess. But what about a human by day, a fucking animal killing machine by moonlight don’t you understand?” Dean all but giggled as he opened the case.

“We haven’t seen one since we were kids” Dean muttered, the excitement clear in his tone. Sam and Y/N were both amused by this, “Okay, sparky, and you know what? After we kill it, we can go to Disneyland” Sam sassed, leaning just elbows on the back of the chair, speaking to Dean as if he were a child. Y/N snorted in amusement at this, almost coughing up some of her beer.

Dean rolled his eyes but ignored them, “You know what the best part about it is? We already know how to bring these suckers down” He smirked, holding up a silver bullet between his index finger and thumb. “One of these bad boys right to the heart” Sam and Y/N shook their heads at him as Y/N’s eyes traced his face.

When she realized she was staring a bit too hard, she cleared her throat and quickly looked away. “So, what’s our next move?” She asked, taking her feet down from Dean’s lap, “Talk to the girl who found the body” Sam answered, finishing his beer.

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The trio made their way to Madison’s apartment in hopes of getting answers to their case. “I don’t understand, i already gave my statement” Madison said, a bit of annoyance in her tone. “Right, yeah, well. We just need to verify a few things” Sam responded as they all entered her living room to see an unfamiliar man lounging on her couch.

“This is my neighbor, Glenn. Glenn, this is detective—” Madison introduced them, forgetting their names. “Landis.” Dean introduced himself using his alias. “Dante and Daniel” He added, patting Sam’s shoulder and then the small of Y/N’s back. She recoiled from the touch a little, clearing her throat. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it” Glenn said awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Okay, thanks for the casserole” Madison said gratefully as Glenn made his way past her. “Mhm” Glenn blushed as he made his way to the door. “Oh, how thoughtful” Dean muttered, “Just call if you need anything” Glenn said to Madison with a small smile before leaving. “He’s sweet. He came over to check on me” Madison said to the trio with a smile.

“Have- have a seat” She offered them to take a seat at her dining room table. Y/N bit her lip slightly as she eyed the very attractive woman up and down, her eyes flickering over to Dean as she settled in a chair next to him. She noticed he was doing the same, inwardly rolling her eyes. “You must be pretty shaken up,” Sam said apologetically as he sat across from Madison.

“You were Nate Mulligan’s assistant, right?” He added, “For two years, yeah” Madison nodded, taking a deep breath. “So you knew all about him” Dean asked with a sly smirk, his eyes tracing Madison’s figure. Y/N noticed this, clenching her jaw as she unconsciously dug her nails into her thighs. “I probably knew about him more than he did,” Madison chuckled.

“Nate was— He was nice..” Madison trailed off, Y/N took note of this. “But?” She raised a brow as she questioned. “Nothing really, I…” Madison sighed, “He had a few scotches and started hitting on anyone in a five mile radius. You know the type” Madison flashed a small smile. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to Dean who had that charming panty dropping smile he always sported as Madison spoke.

“Oh trust me hun, I do” Y/N chuckled, shooting Dean a quick subtle glare before turning back to Madison. Dean’s brows furrowed at this as Sam held back a snicker of amusement, “Did uh…did he have any enemies?” Dean asked, “What do you mean? It sure looked like an animal attack” Madison asked confused.

“Oh, no. Yeah, we’re just covering all the bases. Anyone that might’ve had a beef with him? Former client, an ex?” Y/N chimed in, Sam noticed a look on Madison’s face. “What?” Sam asked, tilting his head. “Well, this is embarrassing but my ex-boyfriend, Kurt,” Madison said, rolling her eyes at the thought of him. “Kurt have a last name?” Dean asked.

“Mueller. After we broke up, he went kind of nuts. He’s….well, he’s kind of been stalking me” Madison’s gaze dropped to her hands, Y/N gave her a look of sympathy at this along with Sam. “He got it in his head that something was going on between Nate and I. He showed up at my office” She explained, “What happened?” Y/N asked. “Kurt got into it with Nate. Threw a punch before security grabbed him. I was lucky to keep my job”

“When was the last time you saw Kurt?” Dean asked. “A few nights ago. Actually, the night Nate died. We were all grabbing drinks at this bar and Kurt showed up” Madison explained, “And?” Y/N pried. “Nothing. Ky was like…like he was watching me. Then he was gone. To tell you the truth…he scares me” Madison responded in a low tone, her voice filled with sorrow and fear.

Y/N’s heart panged for the girl, a frown making it’s face to her face and the three hunters shared a look. “I’m sorry you’re going through this Madison, it must be so hard for you” Y/N spoke gently, reaching a hand over the table to rub Madison’s hands gently. “Thank you” Madison thanked the pair. Y/N flashed her a quick smile before withdrawing her hands, placing it in her lap.

“So, what do you guys think?” Dean asked as they all walked toward the Impala. “Stalker scumbag ex boyfriend. He hated the boss. And he was there that night” Sam agreed with the theory. “You think he’s our dog-faced boy?” Y/N asked. “Well, it’s a theory,” Sam shrugged as they approached the Impala. “We’ve had worse. I say we pay Kurt a visit” Dean suggested, opening the back door for Y/N before opening his.

Her heart leapt, as per usual, at the gesture as she settled into her seat. Shutting the door inwards simultaneously with the boys. “Lead the way, charming” Y/N prompted, with that, Dean peeled out of the sidewalk. Heading towards Kurt’s apartment complex, thanks to the address given to them by Madison.

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After picking the lock to Kurt's door, the trio made their way into the apartment. Immediately getting to work, Sam began going through his bookcase while Y/N took up opening the drawer and Dean, obviously, rummaging through the kitchen. “Anything?” Y/N asked, closing a drawer after finding nothing.

“Ahh, nothing but leftovers and a six pack” Dean responded, shutting the fridge. “Check the freezer” Sam suggested. “Maybe there’s some human hearts behind the Häagen-Dazs or something” He muttered, earning a snort of amusement from Y/N.

A squeaking in the distance caught their ear, drawing their attention to the veranda. Y/N paced over to it instantly, pulling the curtain aside before pushing the sliding glass door aside. The wind of the cold night hit her cheeks. She scanned her surroundings before leaning over the edge.

Her eyes widening when she notices claw marks going down the side of the building. “Fellas, come here” Y/N called out to the boys. “What?” Sam asked as he and his brother both entered the balcony. “Check it out” She stated, pointing to the claw marks. The Winchesters leaned over simultaneously besides Y/N, all three sharing a knowing look.

They were now back inside of Kurt’s apartment, rifling through papers when a gunshot in the distance raised all alarms in their heads. Instantly bolting into action, all running out on their toes out of the building and towards the gunshot.

Rushing into the alley, the trio scanned the area before following the sound of rushed footsteps. “This way!” Sam exclaimed in a hushed tone, the other two trailing behind him as he ran down the alley.

They made it behind the building, in an alleyway, near a dumpster to see the mauled body of a cop. His organs hanging out and his heart, most likely, missing. Y/N reupholstered her gun, along with the boys.

“Oh my god” She breathed out in a whisper, shining her flashlight down on the cop’s mutilated form. “Damn, this ain’t good. Poor bastard.” Dean muttered, placing an arm against the brick wall as he lowered his head momentarily in what seemed to be a form of respect to the fallen cop.

Y/N did the same, placing a hand against her mouth. “I’ll call 911.” Sam swallowed harshly as he fished his phone out of his pocket, scanning his surroundings. “I’d say Kurt’s looking more and more like our Cujo” Dean quipped, crouching down besides Y/N. “Guys, if he’s out here. We better check on Madison.” Sam suggested.

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Sam was now knocking on Madison’s door, when suddenly the door across the hall opened up, revealing Glenn. “What’s going on?” He asked curiously. Y/N raised a brow at the nosey man, “Police business, Glenn” Dean stated in a gruff tone. Madison’s door then opened.

“What is it?” Madison asked, pulling a robe over her shoulders. Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes flickering over to Glenn, who was still standing by his door. “Well, maybe we should talk privately,” She suggested.

“Has Kurt been here?” Y/N asked Madison as she poured her a cup of coffee, “Not exactly” Madison responded, moving over to pour Sam and Dean some coffee. “What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Dean chuckled. “Well, he was outside last night. Just…looking. Just looking at me” Madison sighed. This raised their concerns, “Has he done something?” Madison asked, confused.

“We’re not really sure” Sam sighed, “It’s probably nothing. But, we just don’t wanna take any chances ” Dean chimed in, a bit too eagerly. Y/N turned her attention to Dean with a raised brow as she sipped the coffee. “Infact, one of us should probably stay here with you, just in case he stops by” Dean suggested, earning an eye roll from Y/N and Sam.

There it is.

“Where does he work?” Sam asked, “He owns a body shop,” Madison told them. “You mind grabbing that address for us, hun?” Y/N smiled coyly at Madison, “Thanks” Sam muttered as Madison nodded and left the room. Dean and Y/N’s eyes trailed Madison as Sam looked between the two. “Alright, go you two. I’ll stay” Y/N suggested.

“Forget that. You guys go after the creepy ex. I’m gonna hang here with the hot chick” Dean protested in a skittish tone. Y/N gritted her teeth at him while Sam bit back a laugh, “Dude, why do you always get to hang out with the girls?!” She exclaimed while keeping her voice at bay.

“Because I’m older” Dean quipped cheekily, raising his mug to his lips. Y/N’s left eye twitched while Sam scoffed, leaning against the counter, watching the scene unfold as he sipped his own coffee. “No, fuck that. We settle this the old fashion way” She protested, placing her mug down besides Sam, raising up her right fist.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Dean smiled cheekily, setting down his own mug. “I hate you” Y/N muttered, glaring at him, causing him to chuckle before he extended his right fist. Y/N shot Sam a quick look, causing him to shrug his shoulders before turning back to Dean.

They banged their fists against their palms three times, both with their game faces on. Y/N hit rock as Dean hit scissors. Dean scoffed as Sam chuckled, “Dean, always with the scissors” Sam muttered into his mug as Y/N smirked victoriously, patting Dean’s shoulders. “Shut up. Shut up. Two out of three” Dean protested.

Y/N rolled her eyes again, retracting her hands from his shoulders, sighing before extending her fist again. They banged their fists against their hands three times again. Resulting in the same as before, Dean grunted as Y/N smashed her fist against his two fingers. “God!” He growled.

Y/N smirked coyly, raising her chin as she looked Dean in the eye, holding his angry gaze intensely. That is, until a cough was heard from behind Dean. Turning their attention to Sam, who now had his fist up, to go against Y/N. “You have a girlfriend!” Y/N shot at him, glaring at the younger Winchester.

“Jo’s not my girlfriend.” Sam retorted. “Yet” Dean coughed. Sam shot him a nasty sideeye at this, “I’m not even interested in Madison like that.” Sam scoffed. “She doesn’t need someone to try to put her to bed, she needs someone to protect her.” He further defended before gesturing between Dean and Y/N.

“And you two bozos only think with your parts in your pants. Now, game” Sam raised his fist again, tilting his head with his defensive statement, challenging Y/N. Rolling her eyes, Y/N accepted Sam’s challenge, extending her fist out towards him while Dean took a step back, sipping his coffee as he watched with a glint of enjoyment, silently praying she lost.

The pair of best friends banged their fists against their palms three times simultaneously. They both revealed their chosen items. Resulting in rock for Y/N and the scissors for Sam. “Fuck!” Y/N groaned. Sam chuckled out in amusement with a fist pump. Dean’s smirk grew wider as he glanced between Sam and Y/N.

She clenched her jaw with frustration, glaring fiercely at Sam. “Come on, y/n/n. It’s not the end of the world.” Sam teased, causing her to roll her eyes and give him the middle finger. “Best two out of three” She grumbled, putting up her fist again, Dean rolled his eyes but stayed silent.

“Bring it on,” Sam grinned. They banged their fists against their palms three times before they both revealed their chosen items. Rock for Sam and paper for Y/N. “Ha!” Sam barked, punching the air triumphantly as Y/N cursed under her breath again.

“I hate you both” Y/N mumbled before taking a gulp of her coffee, placing the mug back down on the counter. “I know” The brothers both said in sync, resulting in Y/N flipping them both off before snatching Dean by his hand, dragging him towards the exit. “Bundle up out there!” Sam mocked them as Y/N pulled open the door, his hand still wrapped around Dean’s wrist.

He mouthed a quick, ‘Thank you’ to his little brother, receiving a firm thumbs up and tight lipped smile in return.

Once they were outside, Y/N slipped her hand from Dean’s wrist, she tried not to show her disappointment. Instead, opting to glare at the floor as they left the building and approached the Impala. “Keys” She put her hand out, gesturing for him to give him the keys to Baby.

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically but without protesting, he pulled them out of his jacket pocket and placed them in the palm of her hand. It felt like his fingers lingered a little too long against her skin but she said nothing of it. They both climbed into the Impala, she started the engine with a hum.

As she revved it, Dean leaned his head against the window. His eyes roaming over Y/N and she put the Impala in drive, a sight he never saw often, but oddly enough, he loved seeing her behind his wheel. Y/N took in the sounds and the smell of the Impala. Something which always calmed her mind, it was almost like therapy. Mainly because it smelt like Dean, then pulled out of the parking spot.

It was now the next morning, a very tired Sam sat at Madison’s dining room table. Gently slapping his face to keep himself awake as Madison approached behind him, sifting through letters from her mail slot.

Sam’s eyes glanced up at her as Madison turned to him. Their eyes connecting, Sam quickly cleared his throat and gave the pretty girl a tight timid smile. “Um, do you wanna sit on the couch?” She asked, “No. nono. I’m okay” Sam assured her. “It's more comfortable,” She suggested.

“Aw, I’m fine” He chuckled, waving it off. Madison flashed Sam a coy smile, nodding before heading over to her laundry room.

A few moments after, Madison emerged with a basket of her undergarments pressed to her hip. She then made her way over to the dining room table, emptying out dozens of her panties right in front of Sam before picking up a very lacy sexy one, folding it directly in his eyesight.

Sam cleared his throat, averting his gaze away from the blue lacy panties and instead, his gaze dropped onto his hands, his mind wandering back to Jo. “You know what? I think I will sit on the couch” He cleared his throat awkwardly, scuffling away from the table before moving away to the couch.

He sat down with his hands clasped in front of him as Madison bit back a smile. The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. Silently thanking god for getting him out of the awkward situation. Sam quickly took his phone out of his pocket, clicking the answer button before pressing it to his ear.

“Let me guess, you’re sitting on her couch like a stiff, your mind stuck on Jo because you’re in an apartment with a pretty girl and you can’t do jackshit about it” Y/N’s amused voice chimed through the phone.

“Shut up” Sam muttered in response with a faint eye roll. He was a little embarrassed due to the fact that Y/N’s words were entirely accurate. “Did you find Kurt?” He asked, changing the subject.

Dean and Y/N were walking out of the body shop, the phone on speaker as Y/N held it. Dean chimed in, “He hasn’t been at work all week. But because we’re good and I mean really, really good. We got a like on where he might be” Cockiness dripping from his tone as they made their way to the Impala.

Dean opened the driver’s side door for Y/N so she could settle in before making his way to the passenger side, climbing in beside her. She handed the phone to Dean, who was shutting his own door as she started the ignition, “What’s she wearing?” Dean quipped to Sam with an amused smile.

His words earned him an annoyed, “Bye Dean” From his brother along with a thump to the head by Y/N. Dean cackled as the line went dead, gripping his head where she smacked him. “You're such an ass sometimes” Y/N muttered to Dean who snickered in response, as she pulled out of the lot.

"Yeah, well you're just jealous that you don't have my charm" Dean grinned at her. "Your charm only works on girls. Mine works on both" Y/N shot back, a small smirk played on her lips as Dean rolled his eyes, "Whatever" He muttered but she noticed his lip twitch slightly in amusement.

Back in Madison’s apartment, Sam was still on the couch. A bit more relaxed, he tensed up slightly when Madison plopped on the couch next to him. Picking up the TV remote from the coffee table in front of them to turn on the set. He sighed deeply, an amused smile crossing his face when the 70’s soap opera, All My Children started playing.

Sam bit back a snort, clearing his throat when Madison’s eyes snapped over to him. “I heard that” Madison quipped, “What? Saw what?” Sam played dumb, biting back his smile. “Okay, this is the deal. My house, my TV.” She shot back with a friendly smile as Sam allowed himself to laugh.

He then glanced at Madison to see a small smile on her face, “I never get to watch my show. So suck it up.” She said firmly. Sam bit his tongue, "Fine. Your house, your TV. I get it. Okay” Sam muttered, trying to contain his small smile. The two sat in comfortable silence as they watched the scene play out on the screen.

A couple hours have passed and the few episodes they watched have come to an end. Sam stared dumbfounded at the TV, seemingly having been engrossed in the show. “Wait, so Kendall married Ethan’s father just to get back at him?!” He gasped theratically. Madison nodded, giggling at the expression on his face.

“Yep. And now she’s set to inherit all the casinos that were supposed to go to Ethan.” She explained, “What a bitch” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. When he realized how engrossed he was in the show, he cleared his throat again as Madison shot him a knowing look. The two burst out laughing, “Admit it, you’re hooked!” She cackled, smacking his arm lightly.

“No, no, no. I wouldn’t say I’m hooked” Sam quickly protested but his words died in his throat, erupting in laughter again. “Can I ask you a question? It’s- its- a little personal?” Sam asked timidly, turning to her, “You’ve seen my entire underwear collection. Go ahead” She responded a bit smugly.

“Okay, uh-” Sam began. "Well, you’re… You’re clearly smart. I mean, your house is full of great books, you know? And, you’re independent.." He said, “Uh-huh” Madison hummed. “No offense. But what were you doing with Kurt?” He asked curiously. His tone was gentle, not at all harsh or confrontational.

Madison’s brow furrowed at this, thinking for a bit. "I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like he introduced himself like: ‘Hi, I’m possessive and controlling, and I like to punch people. Wanna be my girlfriend?’ " Madison mused, the two chuckling. “Yeah, well, I guess we all make mistakes” Sam sighed, “Yeah, well mine’s wanted by the police” Madison snorted as Sam shook his head.

“You wanna know why I stayed with him? Really?” Sam gestured for her to continue, Madison took a breath before propping her elbow on the back of the couch. “I was too insecure to leave,” She said honestly. “I find that hard to believe, I mean, you don’t really seem like the type” Sam stated honestly.

“Yeah, well. Some stuff happened. My life changed. I changed for the better, I think” She sighed, the smile still on her face, “What happened?” Sam asked concerned. “Well, for one thing, I got mugged” She shrugged, still smiling. “And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” Sam snorted, shaking his head. “I know, it sounds strange. And don’t get me wrong, it rattled me” She chuckled, leaning closer to him.

Sam gulped, pulling back a little as she spoke. “Then it hit me: I could keep feeling sorry for myself, or I could take control of my life. And I chose the latter” She stated, Sam nodded, looking at the woman with admiration. “First thing I did was tell Kurt that he had to go,” She added. “Smart move” Sam smiled.

“Apparently. Everything else just opened, blossomed. It’s all been wonderful, really.” Madison responded as Sam shook his head with a small smile. “What? Doesn’t everyone else think that being a victim of random violence is the best thing that ever happened to them?” Madison joked, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Yeah, not so much” He snorted. “You’re…unusual” He choked, internally facepalming himself at his choice in words. Madison tilted her head, amused. “Unusual like…unusual?” She joked, making a ‘coo-coo’ sign at her head. “No, no, no. Nonono” Sam chuckled. “Unusual, like….impressive” He complimented. “You think so?” Madison blushed as Sam nodded.

"Okay, I have a question for you," Madison piped up. "Uh huh." Sam smiled, "How come someone like you is still single? I mean… It’s insane” Madison confessed to him. "I, um… I’m not really- I think- uh...." Sam said, ducking his head down and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, his mind wandering back to Jo.

"Oh, I get it” Madison grinned, “There’s someone else, huh? Come on, who is she?” She pried, teasingly nudging him. Sam bit his lip, raising his head to meet her gaze, “Uh, She’s…well, she’s special” He confessed fondly. "Aw, that’s so cute!" She teased, nudging him again.

Sam rolled his eyes but smiled at her, "She’s badass. Total badass. She could kick my ass if she wanted to. And she’s pretty smart too" He said fondly. Madison noticed the look on his face, "Ooh, so, does this badass lady have a name?" She joked. "Well…she- her name's Jo" Sam confessed, smiling to himself.

“Well, before we get into that. Accept my deepest apologies for tossing my panties out in front of you. I assumed you were single” Madison apologized, pressing one of her palms to her chest. "Hey, no biggie. I've seen- well, weirder" He chuckled, "Plus, Dean or Y/N probably would have liked that" Sam teased, earning a snort from Madison.

Madison nodded before she continued, "So, you and Jo are…?" She trailed off, "Complicated. But it’s alright. We’re getting there” Sam shrugged, smiling at the thought of Jo. "Complicated, how?” Madison asked with a small frown. "Well, we uh…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking off to the side.

He couldn’t believe he was talking about this with someone else. He talked to Y/N about Jo, only to receive a tap along with, ‘Man up and ask Jo to be your girlfriend already.’ Meanwhile, Dean told him to ‘Lay another kiss on her and take her to nookietown.’

"It’s all good, you can tell me” Madison smiled, Sam let out a breath he held before giving her a small smile of his own. "Well, it’s just…we haven’t really said anything to each other about our feelings yet” He confessed to Madison, his smile growing wider.

“We talk a lot and uh, well. When we first met, she caught my eye but my brother was flirting with her. So I kinda let it die…and then, something bad happened and I felt like I was gonna lose my mind when I couldn’t find her. Then we had a falling out- family stuff.” He vaguely explained the events of Holmes capturing Jo to Ellen telling her about the hunt that went sideways with their dads.

“Then we made up, became friends, grew closer over the time and uh…we kissed recently” His cheeks flared at the thought. "You kissed her?" Madison repeated with a surprised brow raised. “Well, uh- she more kissed me,” Sam confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“Not that I didn’t want it!” He quickly stated, “I did. Obviously. But I don’t know if she’s gonna want something serious…you know? I tried relationships in the past and they…well…I end up losing the people I love” He sighed, an aching pain grew heavy in his chest.

"I’m so sorry, Sam” Madison frowned, offering Sam a small sympathetic smile, which he appreciated, “And, well. You don’t have to listen to me, but I think you should shoot your shot. Man up and ask her to be your girlfriend” Madison encouraged Sam with a wide smile, trying to lighten the mood. Sam burst out into laughter at this, “You sound like my sister” He snorted, shaking his head.

“My brother, and I quote, told me to ‘lay another kiss on her and take her to nookietown’ or whatever the fuck that means” Sam scoffed, quoting Dean’s words. "Well, looks like I have their support then” Madison joked with a smirk. As Sam calmed his laughter, a faint smile played on his lips, she was right.

Maybe he should man up and ask her. He felt more confident with her words of assurance, and honestly glad that he was able to discuss it with somebody else other than Dean and Y/N.

"You know? You’re actually really easy to open up to" Sam said suddenly with wide eyes, surprised by his own ease, "Sorry, that came out wrong" He apologized quickly. Madison laughed lightly, shaking her head, “No, it’s okay. It was a sweet thought” Madison stated honestly.

They smiled at each other for a moment, a comfortable silence filled the air between them. Their eyes drifted to the TV to watch a commercial before the ringing of his phone snapped them out of their own thoughts. “One second” He muttered to Madison, putting up a finger politely before pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey,” Sam answered.

“We found him” Sam heard Y/N’s voice echo in the phone along with rock music in the background. The Hunter was currently in a strip club leaning against a stage as a stripper danced around a pole. A coy smile played on her face as she watched with amazement, lust and respect at the way the woman worked her body around the pile.

“Good, don’t take your eyes off him." Sam instructed as Y/N’s eyes flickered over to Kurt, who was at another end of the stage, sipping a beer. "Oh, yeah. My eyes are glued” Y/N remarked, holding up a $10 bill for the stripper. “Look, Sammy, I- uh- I gotta go” She cleared her throat as the stripper took the bill from her hand.

“I don’t wanna miss anything” She said smugly as before hanging up the phone. Dean exited the bathroom in the club, zipping up his pants as his eyes flickered over to Y/N, who was still pressed up against the stage. Ogling the nearly naked stripper.

"Goddamn it, Y/N" Dean muttered, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He felt a familiar flare in his chest, wiping off his wet hands on his jeans before striding over to her. "What are you doing? Come on, focus” Dean huffed, snapping his fingers in front of her face before dragging Y/N away from the stage.

She grunted in protest as Dean pulled her along to the bar, a small smirk playing on his lips. “We’re supposed to be watching Kurt, not Cinnamon,” Dean scoffed, ordering two beers. “You’re kidding me, right?” Y/N snorted, “You? Dean Winchester, are in a strip club and you’re not looking at a stripper?” She laughed, shaking her head.

"I’m not an animal, Y/N" Dean scoffed, raising his brow as the beers arrived in front of them. Y/N rolled her eyes, "You just asked Sam a couple hours ago, and I quote, ‘What’s she wearing?’ about Madison” Y/N deadpanned, her eyes diverting back to Kurt, who was still sitting near the stage as she picked up her beer, settling on one of the bar stools.

"Okay, you got me" He raised his hands in defeat, a small chuckle escaped his lips. He took a large gulp of his beer, his tongue tracing his bottom lip to catch the few droplets that dribbled out the corner of his mouth. It didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, who bit her lip at the sight, glancing back over at Kurt with narrowed eyes.

"So, what’s the plan here? Or are we just gonna tail him all night?” Y/N asked him, her finger tracing over the rim of her beer bottle. Dean raised a brow, his eyes following the movement of her finger before he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from her hand.

"Yep" Dean stated, raising his beer up to his lips again. He stole a quick peek at Y/N, who was glancing back over at the stage once again. Her eyes wandering over the stage and all of the working strippers, her legs subconsciously tightening from all of the erotic images.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking the same, having to tear his eyes away from the strippers himself. "Y/N" Dean called out to her in an exasperated huff, snapping her out of her thoughts. "What?" She asked curiously after downing a gulp of beer. "Stop drooling over the strippers" He pointed a finger at her accusingly.

"I wasn’t drooling over anyone, asshat. I was observing the talent and the way they work their body around the pole” She explained casually as he bit back a snort. "Sure, sure you weren’t nutcase" He muttered, sipping his beer as he shook his head at her response. “Honestly, I think strippers are badass” She stated, leaning back on the bar.

"How so?" He asked curiously, his brow raised in interest. Y/N smirked at this, biting the inside of her cheek, "Well, I’m glad you asked" She cleared her throat, shifting around on the bar stool, leaning against the bar.

“They’re strong, obviously. I mean, it takes a helluva lot of strength for us to do pull ups. Imagine doing that all night on a pole. And the creeps, they’ve gotta defend themselves from handsy assholes who think just because they have an erotic job, they can touch them if they wanna. Plus, they’re making their own dough. I respect it” Y/N explained with a shrug.

Dean thought for a few moments as he let her words sink in, "Yeah, you’re right" He stated honestly, nodding approvingly. "Plus, they can dance. I couldn’t dance even if someone held a gun to my face" He pointed out, earning a snort from Y/N. “Yeah, I know” She laughed, nudging him playfully.

"Oh, so you’re saying you could do it?" Dean chuckled, raising his brow as a smirk grew on his lips. “Ah, yeah” She scoffed as if it was obvious. "Come on, no way you can dance" He chuckled, a challenging look in his eyes, “I can!” She defended. "Prove it" He gestured to the dance floor.

Y/N bit her lip, holding his gaze for a moment before she finally pulled away with a soft snort as she finished off the rest of her beer. "Fine" She sighed, taking the chance to show him that she can in fact dance. So she snatched Dean by his arm, his eyes widening in surprise when she pulled him onto the dancefloor.

Dean allowed her to drag him along, laughing as Y/N turned around to smirk at him. She began swaying her hips to the music, her eyes closed as she got into a groove. ‘Shakin’ Hands’ by Nickelback filled the club's walls.

Dean was amused, to say the least, he laughed heartily while his eyes followed the swaying of her hips. She was, in fact, a great dancer. It was really surprising.

‘She ain’t no Cinderella when she’s getting undressed.’

‘Cause she rocks it like the naughty wicked witch of the west’

"Show me what you got Winchester!" She yelled above the music, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk before spinning around to face him. Without a word, she placed her hands on his shoulders, guiding his hands to her hips. He let her guide his hands, gently gripping her sides as the both rocked back and forth together.

From time to time, their eyes would glance back over to Kurt, making sure he was still in place but at this moment, it was hard for them to focus on the task. Though, being the trained hunters they are, they multitasked pretty well.

They didn’t realize how long they were dancing, they were too caught up with each other to care. All that mattered was the feel of her body pressed against his, the way he held onto her hips as if his life depended on it. Their bodies swayed together, seemingly moving like the waves of the ocean.

They leaned into each other’s touch, their nose’s grazing against one another’s every so often.

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment as her eyes flickered down to his lips. His lips were oh-so-close. His pupils darted between her lips and her eyes, "You sure know how to dance, princess" Dean said in a low tone as his hands traveled along her lower back. Y/N’s breath hitched with a shiver.

The feeling of his calloused hands sent goosebumps along her skin, she felt a familiar ache begin to form in between her legs. Her eyes traveled down to his plump lips and back up to his eyes. "You’re not so bad yourself, charming" She whispered to him, her hands traveling up his hard chest slowly.

They were so close to one another, all they would need to do is lean in and their lips would be pressed together. Dean could feel her soft breaths against his skin, her intoxicating scent of her coconut shampoo and the tobacco from her last cigarette half an hour ago was filling his nostrils.

Y/N felt his eyes wander down to her lips, the thought of his lips against her made her stomach flutter in anticipation. This made her mind wander back to her dream from weeks ago of Dean’s lips roaming her body. A pleasant and familiar warmth spreading through her southern region.

Dean’s grip on her hips tightened somewhat, causing her to let out a barely audible gasp. Y/N allowed her hand to travel up the nape of his nape, threading the hair at the back of his head between her fingers. Dean reveled in her touch, holding back a moan from the way her hand ran along his neck, his heart was pounding out of his chest at Y/N’s sudden move and burst in confidence.

Dean Winchester was sporting a rock hard erection that was straining against the confines of his jeans, luckily, Y/N pulled away before she could feel it press against her because at the corner of her eye, she saw Kurt getting up from near the stage, paying his bill and making his way to the exit.

Dean didn’t seem to notice, being too drawn on tracing her features with his eyes but when he noticed she looked away, he followed the direction her gaze was directed in.

"He’s leaving!" Y/N exclaimed, when it registered in her head, breaking away from him. At that moment, Dean cleared his throat, "Oh, yeah. Right” He said out of breath, blinking away the fog of lust as Y/N took off after Kurt. He quickly reached into his pants to adjust himself before he followed behind her and they rushed outside of the club after their suspect, the cool night air hitting their face.

____________________________________________

They eventually caught up to Kurt and ended up trailing him back to his apartment. Waiting for the moon to fully set in and for him to wolf out. They were both currently leaned up against a dumpster in the alleyway where they found the dead cop yesterday with a direct view of his veranda.

“Jesus Christ, how long does this take?” Y/N mumbled frustrated while loading up their guns with a round each of silver bullets. A cigarette tucked between her lips. Dean had binoculars up to his eyes, keeping his sights on Kurt’s balcony at the far end of the alleyway.

"Patience, sweetheart" Dean reminded her, his voice rough due to them being up all night after not getting much sleep in days. And both very sexually frustrated…for obvious reasons. He could hear her mumble under her breath a smart remark in response.

He ignored it and carried on. “He must have been too tired from turning last night" He theorized, checking his watch with a scoff, "It’s been over an hour already" His brow twitched, watching Y/N take a puff of her cigarette. He’d been keeping his eyes on her the entire night.

His mind kept reliving the moment they were dancing together, the way she was so close to him made him shiver. His thoughts were interrupted by Y/N lighting another cigarette and cursing to herself. The pent up sexual frustration along with her impatience was riding on every part of her body.

“Goddamn it, I don’t know about you but this is seriously pissing me off” Y/N complained, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. She bit her lip, her mind keeping going back to the heated moment they shared. Her legs were still throbbing, her core still aching, she felt like she was about to combust, and being so close to him the whole night didn’t help her condition at all.

His eyes flickered back up to her eyes and then down to the stick tucked between her fingers. She turned her attention to Dean, noticing his gaze was trapped on the stick wedged between her fingers.

“Want a taste?" She offered playfully, holding her half lit cigarette out for Dean's taking. Without a word, he leaned his head down slightly, capturing the tip of the bud between his lips.

She watched in amusement when he immediately leaned down, taking a slow drag from the tip that was still wedged between her fingers. His lip left a feathering touch on her fingers. He made quite the effort to prolong the contact, which Y/N was enjoying way too much.

When he pulled back, he blew the smoke out of his nose and a satisfied hum of tobacco filled his lungs. "Thanks” He murmured gruffly, a smug look on his face. Y/N nodded in return, taking another drag herself, trying to ignore heat rushing between her legs.

A loud crash of glass shattered from somewhere above their heads caught their attention, their eyes snapped to see the curtains fall. "What the fuck" Dean muttered, in surprise. "About damn time" Y/N stated as she handed Dean his gun. They both placed their safety off. Their eyes connected, both giving each other a firm nod in agreement.

They rushed into the building and quickly made their way up the stairs before finally reaching the third floor. Their breathing was a little heavier than before and their hands were gripping on their guns like their lives depended on it. Dean tried opening the door but it was locked, he went to raise his foot to kick it inwards but Y/N beat him to the punch.

Raising her hand towards the door, her eyes flashed over white as the tips of her fingers turned aqua blue, once again. The door flew off its hinges, a loud crash erupted in the silence of the hallway. Dean’s eyes flickered between her and the door that was now in pieces, “Show off” He muttered, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

Their steps were light and swift as they quietly walked inside of the apartment, aiming their guns around the room. The windows were now busted open, the curtains billowing around them from the wind. They heard nothing, nothing but their own breathing but that was until they heard the soft growl of an animal.

Their heads snapped towards the sound coming from the left side of the apartment. They stormed into the master bedroom to see a slender familiar figure hovering over Kurt’s corpse, clawing away into his chest cavity at his heart. Their eyes were wide in shock as the creature turned to face them in a snap, eyes wild and blue. Madison snarled at them, attacking Y/N before she could react.

She harshly pushed Y/N into Dean, disarming them both of their guns. The two hunters went flying back into the wall with the powerful superhuman strength Madison displayed. Dean’s head hit the concrete wall, knocking him unconscious immediately.

So Madison turned her attention to a dazzled Y/N, attempting to claw at her but the hunter reacted quickly. Sending a wave of power from hand at Madison, who went flying back just a few feet. Y/N held her head, her vision blurred from the knock she received to her head, trying to scramble for her gun but Madison was quick to the punch, kicking the gun away before Y/N could reach it.

She straddled Y/N again, she reached out, trying to summon the gun to her hands but she was too weak to muster up the power. So she reacted in the only way she could, stabbing Madison in her forearm with her silver butterfly knife that was luckily lodged into her jacket pocket.

Madison let out a bloodcurdling scream, clawing at the wound before backhanding Y/N, knocking her unconscious before narrowly escaping through the broken balcony glass door.

____________________________________________

Dean woke just as the sun was rising with a dull thud through his skull, an uncomfortable groan escaping his lips as he sat up. A small bruise was already beginning to form on the back of his head from the knock into the wall. He sat up slowly with a hiss, his vision blurry and black dots danced across his vision.

Pushing the dizziness from his head with a heavy grunt, his eyes immediately searched the room for Y/N, who was still unconscious, sprawled out on the floor with blood dripping down her nose. His heart dropped in his chest as he scrambled over to her.

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, princess, wake up! I need you to wake up!" He lightly shook her shoulders, checking every inch of her to see if she had any other injuries.

Y/N stirred softly, whimpering a little but began to wake. Her eyelids fluttered a few times before being shot open, her eyes wide. She quickly sat up, groaning a little as she felt a rush of pain to her head.

"Thank god" Dean breathed a sigh of relief, pulling her in for a hug as he buried his face into the crook in her neck. Y/N took a moment before fully coming to her senses, registering where she was. She hugged him back weakly, “What the fuck?” She groaned.

Dean pulled away, cupping her face in his hands as his eyes wandered over her, inspecting her further. Using his thumb to wipe away some of the blood from her nose, “We need to call, Sam,” Dean said urgently, remembering his brother was ‘protecting’ a freaking werewolf.

He took his phone out, hurriedly dialing in Sam's number, pressing the phone to his ear as he waited for an answer. “God that chick was strong” Y/N groaned, as Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet with one hand, his phone pressed to his ear with the other. "Yeah, I'll say" He muttered, "She hit like fucking a tank" Y/N commented with a shaky breath.

But Sam hadn't answered yet, "Come on, Sammy" Dean muttered to himself impatiently. "Guys, you okay?" Sam finally answered the phone. Dean quickly put it on speaker, pressing his head to Y/N’s forehead, which was hot to the touch. She swayed a bit on her feet, still groggy. "Yeah, now that we’re conscious.” Dean groaned. “The werewolf knocked us out. Sam, it’s Madison" Dean explained.

“What?” Sam gasped, rushing over to Madison’s room. “Yeah, awesome fucking job at keeping an eye on her” Dean quipped sarcastically, as Y/N groaned again from the striking pain in her head. Sam pushed in the door to see Madison asleep in her bed. “Dean, Y/N. I’ve been here the whole time. She’s in bed, asleep” Sam told them. “Well, she wasn’t a few hours ago.” Y/N snapped.

“Check her right arm below her elbow. I nicked her with my silver butterfly knife” Y/N instructed him. With that Sam hung up, turning back to Madison who was now stirring awake. “Morning” Madison greeted Sam with a yawn, his eyes flickered down to her right arm to see a gash exactly where Y/N said it would be.

Madison gasped when she realized she was naked, “Um, where are my pajamas?” She asked Sam, who’s eyes darkened, bile rising in his throat. He immediately made his way over to her front door. “Sam? What’s going on?” Madison called out to him, using the blanket to cover her body. “Where are you going?!” She called out as Sam locked her door from the inside.

“I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you” Sam narrowed his eyes at her, as fear crossed her features.

Madison was now dressed and Sam had his own gun with silver bullets in his hand, his arms crossed as he glared at Madison. Leaning on the dining room table while she sat tied to one of her chairs, “You're psychotic” Madison sobbed, “The whole ‘I’m a cop’ trio. God, I am so stupid!” Madison scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Well I guess neither of us are who we said we were, huh?” Sam sassed.

“Sam, you’re sick, okay? You’re imagining things. Monsters don’t exist, not really” Madison sobbed, she seemed sincere but Sam refused to buy it. “You know what? Save the act” Sam cut her off with a stern tone as he paced across the room. “It’s not an act! I am not a werewolf. There is no such thing!” Madison sobbed as she defended herself.

“They’re not real! You know they’re not real!” Sam’s head snapped towards her as he strided back over, lowering himself to point at her wound below her elbow with his gun. “No?! Then where did that come from?!” He shouted in her face. She turned to him with a tear filled face. “I don’t know, Sam! God, you need help. Please, don’t do something that you’re gonna regret” Madison pleaded.

Sam's eyes darkened as he stared down at the wound, anger flaring up in the pit of his stomach. This girl was either in full denial or she truly did not know what she was. But Sam couldn’t think about that. For now, she was a threat that needed to be contained one way or another.

The woman seemed sincere in her words, hesitation crossing his face. “I’m not what you think I am. I’m not” Her voice broke as a knocking at the door caught Sam’s attention. He broke his gaze away from her, padding over to the door. He pulled it open to reveal Dean and Y/N, they both nodded at Sam as they entered.

“How you doing? My head feels great, thanks” Dean quipped sarcastically as Y/N glared at Madison, who was shaking in her confines of being tied to the chair. “We gotta talk” Sam whispered to them, gesturing for them to follow them into the kitchen. They nodded in unison before following behind him.

“She says she has no idea what I’m talking about,” Sam told them. Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s lying” Y/N stated the obvious. “Or maybe she doesn’t know she’s changing. Maybe when the creature takes over, she blacks out” Sam suggested. “Like a really hot Incredible Hulk?” Dean commented.

“Come on, dude. She ganked her boss and her ex-boyfriend. That doesn’t sound rash and unconscious” Dean further stated. “Yeah, but what if it was, guys?” Sam defended. “I mean, what if some animal part of her brain saw both those guys as threats. Hell, the cop too” He further protested. “What are you? The dog whisperer now?” Y/N sassed.

Sam rolled his eyes at this, “Look, man. I just-” Sam began pacing the kitchen. “I don’t know, there was something in her eyes” He tried to explain but Dean and Y/N looked at him as if he were crazy. “Yeah, she’s killing people!” Dean shot back. “But if she has no control over it!”

“Exactly, she can’t control it! Look even if she’s telling the truth, it’s not gonna change anything” Y/N cut Sam off, her cold tone sending a shock down Sam’s spine. She was usually so kind and compassionate but it was a whole different side to her when monsters were involved.

“I’m not putting a bullet through some girl's chest who has no idea what’s happening!” Sam defended again, trying to keep their voices at bay. “Sam, she’s a monster and you’re feeling sorry for her?!” Dean argued. “Maybe I understand her” Sam retorted, this made Dean's face drop and Y/N’s heart pound.

“Look. There might be another way we can get the job done without having to waste her” Sam suggested before moving to the counter where John’s journal was sitting. Dean and Y/N shared a knowing look at Sam’s statement before turning to him.

“Are you thinking what we think you’re thinking?” Y/N said. “Dad’s theory: Lycanthropy might have a cure if you kill the werewolf who bit you, severing the bloodline” Sam read from the journal, “Might have a cure. Meaning, who the hell knows?” Dean retorted. “It’s worth a shot!” Sam defended.

“We don’t even know where to start looking! Alright? I mean the puppy that bit her could be anyone, anywhere. It could’ve been years ago” Y/N exclaimed as Dean nodded along in agreement. Sam went silent for a few seconds before something clicked in his head. “No, I don’t think so” He muttered, placing the book back down before opening the door that led to Madison’s living room.

“Madison. When were you mugged?” He asked the girl gently, kneeling beside her. Madison glared at Sam through tear filled eyes, not uttering a word. “Please, it's important, alright? Just answer the question” Sam pleaded as Dean and Y/N shot daggers at Madison with their stares. “About a month ago” Madison hesitated to answer.

“Did you see the guy?” Sam asked. “No. Grabbed me from behind” Madison shook her head, y/n realized where Sam was going with the questions. “Did he bite you?” She asked, Madison tilted her head in confusion at the female hunter. “How did you know that?” Her brows furrowed, Y/N’s eyes widened, darting over to the boys.

“Where?” Sam asked urgently. “O-on the back of my neck” Madison stuttered, Sam nodded before holding up his gun and placing it on the dining room table beside him. He got up and walked around Madison’s chair to pull back her hair, revealing the healed over bite wound. “Well, that’s just a love bite. Believe me, that could’ve been a lot worse” Dean commented.

Y/N shot a glare at Dean’s comment, he sheepishly shrugged back. "Where were you at the time?” Y/N asked. “Walking home from a friend’s loft,” Madison answered. “Let me guess: Not too far from Hunter’s Point?” Sam further questioned. Madison nodded at this, still shocked at how they knew.

Sam shut the door that led to Madison’s kitchen, “Same place where those other murders happened. I’m telling you guys, it’s a werewolf’s hunting grounds” Sam insisted, turning to Dean and Y/N. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be out tonight” Dean stated. “It’s the right time in the lunar cycle” Y/N stated, Dean shot her a glare.

“You’re not buying into this crap, are you?” Dean scoffed, making her put her hands up in defense. “I’m not! I’m just stating” Y/N defended. “Look, I know it’s a long shot.” Sam sighed. “Okay, but you’re forgetting something. Maddy’s probably gonna turn soon, alright? We can't just let her take off to an all-you-can-eat buffet” Dean stated. “I’ll stay with her,” Sam shrugged.

“And if she busts loose?” Y/N asked, Sam hesitated for a second, tearing his gaze away from her. “Sam” Dean groaned. “I’ll do it,” Sam mumbled. Dean and Y/N shared a knowing look at this, Sam clearly bonded with Madison so they didn’t trust that he would actually put her down if he had to. “Sam” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’ll shoot her, alright?” Sam’s gaze met hers, the hesitancy clear in his eyes. “But, guys. I need you two to go out there. At least, go look for the thing” Sam pleaded, Y/N sighed as Dean rolled his eyes. “Guys, please. We can save this girl.” Sam begged, Y/N’s eyes softened at his tone, understanding where he was coming from.

Knowing that if it were Sam or Jo in this situation, hell, even Dean, she’d do what she can to save her friends. “Fine” Y/N nodded, “What?!” Dean huffed. Y/N placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off. “We’re going, Dean” Y/N stated firmly, making Dean shut up immediately.

Sam’s eyes filled with relief as Y/N spoke, “Good,” Sam nodded. Y/N turned to Sam, “Promise us that you won’t be a dumbass” She stated as a matter of fact. Sam nodded, “I’ll shoot her if I have to” Sam’s voice softened at his words. "Promise" Y/N demanded firmly, Sam exhaled and nodded.

“I promise” He said sincerely, “Good” Y/N stated before making her way towards the door with Dean in tow. Y/N turned back and looked at Sam once more, giving him a small smile before following Dean out the door.

Once they got in the Impala, Dean sat down behind the wheel as Y/N sat down in the passenger seat. She buckled herself in before Dean peeled out of the parking lot.

“I can’t believe you’re on board with this,” Dean grumbled, Y/N rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, shut up” She shot back, leaning her head on the window of the car. “You’re crazy for going along with this” Dean protested, Y/N shifted herself to face him.

“I get it, okay? If it were you in that chair, I’d do everything I could to save your ass” She shot back defiantly. Dean’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he quickly hid his surprise. He was taken aback by Y/N’s statement, but quickly regained his composure.

“You would?” He asked, “Duh, dumbass” Y/N rolled her eyes once again at his question. The car fell into a brief silence as Y/N turned back to look out her window once more. However, she wasn’t able to keep it silent for long. “And what’d you do if the roles were switched, huh?” She asked, her voice softer than before.

Dean tensed at her question. He knew exactly what Y/N was asking, and he also knew that he would do the same without hesitation. But he was too stubborn to admit it aloud. "Come on, just answer the question" Y/N’s tone was still soft, as she kept her gaze out the window.

After a few moments of silence, the only sound being the rumble of the car's engine, he finally spoke up. "You know the answer already," He mumbled, his voice low but firm. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his response, the words bringing a small grin to her face.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't bring himself to lie. "Just wanted to make sure" She teased, causing him to give her a half-hearted glare. The silence that followed was much more comfortable than before, as both Dean and Y/N were lost in their own thoughts.

The only noise that could be heard was the hum of the Impala's engine. Y/N continued to stare out the window, lost in her own thoughts, as Dean kept his focus on the dark road ahead.

____________________________________________

Hunter’s Point

It was later that night, Dean and Y/N were surveilling Hunter’s Point. Parked near a bar where they assumed the werewolves hung out. The place was a shithole, it was an old dive bar that probably hadn't been renovated in years.

There were a couple of sketchy-looking dudes hanging out outside, and the neon sign flickered menacingly above the entrance. They had a clear view of it from their location, and they were keeping a close eye on the crowd that entered and left the establishment.

They were getting bored, now playing rock paper scissors while waiting for anyone who even looked remotely suspicious to exit the bar. “You’re cheating” Dean protested as Y/N won for the third time. “I’m not cheating, you just suck” She retorted, sticking out her tongue at him.

“I’m just too good” Y/N joked, Dean rolled his eyes at her taunt. "Yeah, yeah, you’re a real winner” He grumbled as he watched the door of the bar, Y/N let out a soft chuckle at his annoyance. A young attractive woman came walking out of the bar, dressed in a furry white coat, a glittery hand bag in her clutches.

Dean and Y/N both sat up straight as they noticed the girl. "Hey, check out the hottie" Dean nudged Y/N. “Focus, dumbass” Y/N rolled her eyes, scoffing at his hypocrisy for reprimanding her at the strip club and now he’s ogling a random chick. What caught their eye, however, was a familiar man exiting right behind the woman. Seemingly trailing her movement.

“Is that-” Y/N gasped. “Glen” Dean clenched his jaw, Madison’s neighbor Glen was coincidentally hanging out at Hunter’s Point. Only meaning one thing, the bastard was the werewolf that ‘mugged’ her. They observed as Glenn casually walked a few feet behind the hooker while keeping his eyes on her.

They shared a look before abruptly exiting the Impala. Wielding their guns as Glen followed the hooker into an alleyway. They heard an animalistic snarl coupled with the woman’s screams of terror. The duo rushed to follow the sound, sprinting down the dark alley.

The sounds of a struggle echoed loudly through the narrow space, only illuminated by a faint neon sign from the main street. They stumbled upon Glen attacking the terrified woman. “Hey!!” Y/N bellowed, both their guns raised at the werewolf. His eyes widened with fear, bearing his teeth at them as they emptied their clips with silver bullets in his chest.

The werewolf’s body jolted violently as the bullets pierced his chest. He let out a piercing cry, stumbling towards the wall before collapsing to the ground. He twitched as the silver poisoning seeped through his veins, still somewhat alive and coughing up blood.

The hooker he was previously attacking gasped with terror before pushing herself up to her feet. Her eyes wide at Dean and Y/N before making a break for it, running away screaming frantically. “Hey, don’t mention it!” Dean shouted sarcastically.

Dean and Y/N stood over Glen, who was coughing and spluttering blood. His fangs were still out as he spluttered, it retracted as they crouched beside him. “What happened?” Glen gasped, “Where am I?” He groaned painfully, Y/N raised her brows at this.

Jesus, it seemed like the poor dude didn’t even know he was a werewolf himself. “Ugh, Help- Help me.” Glen pleaded, coughing as the silver poisoning took effect on his body. “Oh god, oh my god” Glen sobbed. Y/N’s heart pained in her chest at the man’s suffering.

“Alright, easy, Glen. Just take it easy” Dean said calmly, but soon after Glen’s pulse weakened completely. Slumping dead on the ground as Dean and Y/N shared a pained look.

The alleyway fell into a eerie silence as the finality of the moment set in. Dean and Y/N both took a moment to collect themselves before Dean moved to stand up. He let out a weary sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Y/N exhaled deeply at the sight of the dead man. "That poor guy. He didn't even know" She spoke quietly. "I know," Dean replied, running a hand through his hair. They both stood there in an anguished silence, feeling the weight of the situation weigh down on them. The gravity of the situation was heavy, they knew this part of the job all too well.

____________________________________________

The next morning, assuming everything was over. Sam was slumped in the backseat of the Impala while Dean was in the driver's side and Y/N sat shotgun, still parked in front of Madison’s apartment complex. Still staking out her place, just in case she turned again.

“It was sorta sad, actually. Glen had no clue what was going on” Dean stated, his head resting against the back of the seat as he and Y/N explained to Sam. Y/N took a drag from her cigarette before handing it to Dean, “Hey, why do you think he turned Madison, instead of just killing her in the first place?” She asked. Sam shrugged as Y/N passed the cigarette to Dean.

“I don’t know. I mean, he kind of seemed to have a thing for her” Sam answered, “Maybe his primal instinct did too” Y/N commented as Dean took a drag of the cigarette. “Maybe he was looking for a little hot breeding action” Dean added, this made Y/N scrunch her face up in disgust. “God dude, could you be more gross?” She groaned.

Dean chuckled at her reaction, “Hey, it’s a legitimate possibility” He stated as he passed the cigarette back to her. Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment, “You’re a pig” She retorted, making Sam snort with amusement from the backseat. “Yeah, something like that,” Sam sighed, his tone solemn. "What's up with you?" Dean asked, noticing Sam's sudden shift in mood.

Sam let out a soft sigh before answering, "Nothin' just thinking" He replied, his tone quiet. "Is it about Madison?" Y/N inquired, shifting in her seat to look at Sam who nodded, "Yeah" He admitted. “I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Dean raised his brow at his little brother as Y/N tilted her head.

"I don’t, not like that” Sam protested, “It’s just, I don’t know, we bonded a little, you know?” Sam sighed, he seemed genuinely remorseful that it turned out like that. Y/N’s facial features softened at Sam’s tone, she couldn’t help but sympathize with him.

"Hey, it’s not your fault man” Dean stated, trying to reassure his younger brother. However, Sam wasn’t having it as he let out another weary sigh, “Guys, she thought I was a stark raving lunatic” He retorted with a bitter edge to his tone, Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek at this.

A knock at the window on the passenger side startled them, their heads snapped to see Madison. “You know for a stakeout, your car’s a bit conspicuous” Madison commented as Y/N rolled the window down. “What are you still doing here?” She asked. “Honestly? Uh…we’re pretty sure you’re not gonna turn tonight..but we gotta be 100 percent” Dean responded.

“So, you know, we’re lurking” Y/N added with a small chuckle as Sam remained silent. He cleared his throat, before leaning forward. “Look, I know this sounds crazy—” He began. “Sure does.” Madison deadpanned before sighing, Sam’s gaze dropped to his hands. “Well, if we’re gonna wait it out. We might as well do it together” She sighed.

"What?" Dean blurted out. His tone was full of genuine surprise. He wasn’t expecting that response from her at all. Neither was Y/N, she was also surprised at the fact that Madison had agreed to hang out with them, as it was just the night before she was terrified of them.

They were now walking back into Madison’s apartment. “You were telling the truth, weren't you? About everything” Madison began as she locked the door behind them. “What you did, it was to help me” She frowned as they all shared nervous looks. “Yeah” Sam’s voice cracked. “I did all those horrible things…when I turned” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Sam offered her a sympathetic look but her heart pained for her, “You didn’t know” He said softly. Y/N and Dean listened intently, watching the exchange between Madison and Sam with pensive looks. Y/N particularly empathized with her, as she could see how much the events were clearly weighing down on her conscience, it was painful to witness.

“So, when will we know for sure? Moonrise?” Madison asked, clearing her throat. “No, I don’t think so. You turned in the middle of the night last night. I think we gotta hang in until sunup” Sam told her. “Well, it looks like we got ourselves a few hours to kill,” Dean chimed in. “Poker, anyone?” Y/N suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"What, and lose all my money? Fat chance" Dean responded with mild amusement, but he still seemed like he was deep in thought. Y/N chuckled at his reluctance but Madison looked confused, "Poker?" She questioned. "You know, cards?" Y/N explained as she grabbed a deck of cards from her bag. Madison just looked at them blankly before sighing.

“Yeah, I know what poker is," She grumbled. "But aren't you afraid I'm gonna go all 'The Wolfman' on you guys?" She questioned. "Nah, we got it covered," Dean reassured her, holding up a gun with silver bullets. Y/N smacked Dean harshly on his arm at this.

"What? I was just being honest" He shrugged at Y/N’s hit, rubbing his arm as a pout formed on his face. "Could’ve been a little less honest" She chastised him, rolling her eyes at Dean’s lack of tact. Meanwhile, Sam glared at his brother.

It was nearing midnight and the night had passed rather peacefully. The four of them sat in the small living room, playing Poker on the floor. Y/N and Sam were competing against Dean and Madison, it was currently Y/N’s turn to deal the cards.

"So far, I’m winning" Dean smirked as he looked down at his cards, he had two pairs at the moment. "Yeah, yeah whatever" Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes at his boastful statement. She leaned over to glance at Sam’s cards with a sly grin, trying to get a glimpse of his hand. However, he playfully smacked her head away.

"No peeking" Sam said with a grin, but Y/N didn’t relent as she continued to try and peek at his cards. Dean and Madison watched the two with amusement, chuckling as Y/N continued her attempts to cheat, much to Sam’s annoyance.

Despite the dreadful situation, the four found a way to make fun of it. Patiently waiting to see if Madison would turn, the tension in the room was still daft.

As Y/N continued to pester Sam with her attempts to cheat, Dean turned his attention to Madison, looking at her with a mix of wariness and sympathy. Despite the laughter and playful banter, the underlying tension was still palpable, as they all waited for the sun to rise.

"Just give it up, you're not gonna see my cards" Sam said with an amused chuckle, pushing Y/N's head away for the hundredth time. "That's the point" She protested, sticking out her lower lip in a playful pout as she finally relented in her attempts to peek at his cards.

“I think, I’m gonna go to bed” Madison said suddenly, stifling a yawn. The three of them glanced up as Madison rose to her feet, a yawn escaping her lips. "You sure?" Dean inquired, a tinge of worry in his voice. After all, it was still hours away from sunrise.

Madison nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get you guys some pillows and blankets” She assured them. "Thanks" Y/N chimed in as Madison disappeared into the bedroom. There was a tense silence that followed and the mood in the room turned serious once more.

"You really think she’s gonna make it through the night?" Sam asked, his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, deep in contemplation. Dean leaned back against the couch, a tired sigh escaping him. "I sure as hell hope so" He replied, the weight of the situation evident in his weary voice.

"We have to hope so" Y/N stated firmly, there was a hint of desperation in her tone, as if she was trying to convince herself just as much as the others. Despite their best attempts to stay stoic, fear and vulnerability were creeping within them.

It was now around 2 am, the apartment was completely silent and dark, the only sound being the soft and steady inhale and exhale of breathing. Dean and Y/N slept soundly on the floor, wrapped in the blanket Madison had provided. Sam, on the other hand, had tossed and turned for the past couple of hours, unable to sleep properly.

Dean and Y/N were asleep on the floor in the living room, huddled together under the shared blanket. As usual, Dean was in a sprawled out position, his arms and legs were all over the place. However, Y/N was snuggled up right next to him, her head resting on his chest with her arm around his abdomen, using him as a makeshift pillow.

They looked completely at ease, their faces softened by sleep and the comforting presence of each other. Even in his sleep, Dean unconsciously held onto Y/N, bringing her closer to him, as if she was his personal teddy bear. Her head was nestled into the curve of his chest, their bodies flush against each other as their chests rose and fell in a smooth rhythm.

Despite the uncomfortable floor, the two of them looked completely comfortable, content in each other's warm embrace.

As Sam turned for what felt like the millionth time, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, his eyes landed on the two forms that were snuggled up together on the floor. A soft smile appeared on his face at the sight of them. Dean and Y/N looked peaceful, soothed by each other's presence and a part of him envied them for it.

A loud crashing from Madison’s room caused Sam to shoot up from his position on the couch. The noise came from Madison's room and Sam's heart started racing as he quickly got to his feet, alert and ready for anything.

Y/N and Dean were startled awake by the sudden noise, they immediately sat up groggily, blinking the sleep from their eyes as their brains tried to catch up with what was happening.

"Fuck" Y/N groaned low whisper, holding her head, her heart pounding in fear. Dean was up on his feet instantly, his hand already reaching for the gun nearby while Sam quickly made his way towards Madison's room.

Madison was at her window, snarling at Sam. Sam rushed into the room, his eyes widened in shock and horror. There, standing at the window was Madison, but she was different. She had turned.

Her body was trembling, her face twisted with pain and fear, letting out a low, guttural snarl as she clawed at the window. He quickly rushed over to grab her as Dean and Y/N stormed the room with their guns before Madison had already jumped out of the window and escaped.

"No! No, no, no!" Dean shouted as he and Y/N stood near the window, but it was too late. Madison had already jumped out of the window, disappearing into the night before any of them could do anything.

Sam slumped down on the floor, his face a mix of horror and guilt.

The sun was now rising, Dean went to search for Madison while Y/N consoled a terrified Sam, still at her apartment. “I called Bobby. He doesn’t know anything. Except he knew severing the bloodline wouldn’t work. Everyone says it’s impossible to reverse” Y/N explained.

Sam sat silently, his mind racing with guilt and fear. Y/N's words only added to his growing despair, as he realized the gravity of the situation even more. It seemed hopeless.

“What the hell does it matter, Y/N. We gotta find some way to help her. Some legend we missed” Sam insisted. Y/N sighed and bit her lip, her expression conflicted. They were both desperate, searching for any possible way to help Madison. But they had exhausted all their options. "If there was, don’t you think someone we know would’ve known it" Y/N pressed.

Sam ran his hands over his face, a sigh of frustration escaping him. He knew she was right, yet he couldn't accept it, that there was nothing they could do to help Madison. "But there has to be," He countered back weakly. “We have to look harder until we find something!” Sam further defended.

“Sammy, I don’t think we got a choice here anymore” Y/N said gently, giving Sam a knowing look about what they have to do. Sam looked up at her, his eyes pleading for any other solution. But deep down, Sam knew what she was silently suggesting. He let out a shaky breath, his heart feeling like it was being crushed.

"What?" He scoffed angrily, pushing himself up from his chair. “I hate to say it, she’s a sweet girl, but part of her is-” Sam cut her off. “Evil?” He finished her sentence, getting up to face her. “Yeah!” Y/N shouted. “Part monster, whatever you want to call it” Y/N retorted, meeting Sam's angry glare head-on, as she too was growing agitated.

Sam's expression was a mix of anger and desperation as he stared at her. “Yeah, that’s what they say about me and you, y/n/n. About us!” Sam shouted back. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at his words, it hit her hard, but she didn’t back down. She clenched her jaw, refusing to give in. “Those people are wrong about us!” She snapped back.

“You and I know damn well that’s bullshit. And I’m not buying it for one second!” Sam retorted. "Then what do you want me to say, Sam?” Y/N fired back, her temper flaring at his stubbornness. “So me, you won’t kill. But Madison, you’re just gonna blow away?” Sam scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he stood his ground.

Y/N felt a pang of guilt at his words but she steeled herself, her features hardening as she met his gaze, not backing down. "It’s not the same thing, and you know it" She said through gritted teeth.

The shrill sound of Sam's cell phone rang out, the sudden interruption causing a break in the heated argument. Sam quickly fished the device out of his pocket to answer it. "Yeah?" He answered, his tone still edged with anger as he brought the phone to his ear.

Y/N watched him, her breathing still ragged from the argument but she listened intently. “Sam?” Madison’s croaky voice came through the phone. Sam froze in shock as he heard Madison's voice. “Madison!? Where are you?” He practically yelled, hope and panic filling his voice. “I don’t- I don’t- I don’t know what I am” Madison sobbed.

The raw anguish in her voice broke Sam’s heart. He gripped the phone tighter, desperate to comfort her. “Just calm down, we’re gonna help. Just, stay where you are. Do you see any street signs?” He tried to reassure her, but his own voice was shaking.

“Um- yeah, yeah. Middle point” Madison answered, looking around as Y/N fished out her own phone to call Dean. Sam gave Y/N a firm nod as he took out a pen from his pocket and wrote down the name on his hand. “Alright, alright. Hold on, Maddy. We’re coming to get you. Just stay where you are”

Y/N quickly dialed Dean's number and held the phone to her ear. Her heart was racing as she waited for him to pick up. Meanwhile, Sam continued to talk to Madison, who was still sobbing on the other end of the line. He desperately tried to soothe her, even though he wasn’t sure if they could actually help her.

After a few tense seconds, Dean finally picked up the phone. "Yeah?" He answered gruffly. "We found her" Y/N nearly shouted into the phone, her heart racing. "Where is she?" Dean asked urgently. “Middlepoint, some street” She replied urgently, her voice shaking just a bit. “It’s not far from Y/N’s safehouse,” Sam added, having overheard the conversation.

"I'll be right there," Dean said before hanging up. Y/N put her phone back into her pocket, her heart pounding in anticipation. Sam was still on the phone with Madison, who was beginning to sound more hysteric. He desperately tried to keep her calm, telling her they were coming.

Dean found Madison and brought her back to her apartment. They were all in her dining room, Dean’s gun with the silver bullets was placed in front of a very disheveled Madison. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with dread. All of them were watching Madison with a mix of sympathy and fear.

Dean leaned forward, trying to meet her gaze but she was too distraught to look at anyone. “I don’t remember anything,” Madison sobbed. “I probably killed someone last night” Her words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the danger she posed to herself and others.

The silence in the room echoed with the weight of her words. Sam and Y/N tried to hide their unease, but it was clear that they were all grappling with the gravity of the situation. “Didn’t I?” Madison croaked. Sam couldn’t bear to look at her, “There’s no way to know yet” Y/N said quietly.

“Is there something else we can try? To make it go away?” Madison asked hopefully. “We’ll find something. I mean, there’s gotta be some answer, somewhere” Sam insisted. “That’s not entirely true” Dean chimed in, Madison’s head snapped over to Dean.

“Madison, you deserve to know.” Dean sighed. “We’ve scoured every source. There’s just no cure, hun” Y/N stated, her tone solemn. “Are…are they right?” Madison asked Sam. Sam nodded, his expression filled with sadness. “Yeah” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, we could lock you up at night, but…you’d bust out and some night, you will. Someone else dies” Dean explained softly as Madison’s eyes filled with tears again. The room was filled with a tense silence as they all looked at Madison, whose shoulders sagged in defeat. It was a heartbreaking moment, the reality of her fate sinking in.

She knew there was no magic cure, that she was destined to hurt people as long as she lived. “I’m sorry, I am” Y/N added, shaking her head as she clutched her locket. “So, I guess that’s all there is to it, then” Madison sniffled, a single tear dropping from her eye. “Stop it. Don’t talk like that” Sam interrupted, insisting on finding a way to cure her.

“Sam, I don’t wanna hurt anyone else. I don’t wanna hurt you” Madison sobbed before taking up the gun from the table. Walking over to Sam, “Put that down” Sam shook his head as she placed the gun in his hand. “I can’t do it myself. I need you to help me” Madison pleaded, pressing the gun to her chest as Sam’s finger hovered over the trigger.

The room was a tableau of despair. Y/N's heart ached for Sam as she saw the torment in his face. Dean stood silently by, his hands clenched into fists, watching the scene unfold like a car accident that you can't tear your eyes from.

“Madison..no” Sam breathed out, the anguish clear in his voice. “Sam…I’m a monster,” Madison stated. “You don’t have to be. We can find a way, alright? I can, I’m gonna save you”

Dean, who usually kept a stoic facade, was fighting back tears. The despair was so thick in the air it was almost palpable. Sam was pleading in desperation to save her, but he was struggling to grasp the harsh truth.

“You tried. I know you tried. This is all there is left” Madison’s voice broke. “Help me, Sam. As my friend, help me” She begged. “I want you to do it. I want it to be you”

“I can't,” Sam snapped, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna die, I don’t” Madison chuckled dryly, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t live like this. This is the only way you can save me….please” She begged again. “I’m asking you to save me, Sam” Madison offered him a tearful smile.

Sam shook his head weakly as Y/N got up from her chair and stepped closer to them, prying the gun away from Madison’s hand. She gave Sam a sad look and Madison a small nod, “Go wait in the room, sweetie” She said to the woman gently.

Madison left the dining room, but as she did, you could hear her soft sobs. Y/N turned to Sam, the pain in his eyes cutting straight through her heart. He looked defeated, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Sammy, I’m sorry” Dean cut in, the emotion clear in his voice. “No, you’re right. She’s right” Sam croaked, allowing the tears to fall freely from his eyes. “We tried everything,” Sam said, his voice filled with sadness and resignation. “We really did,” Y/N added gently. “Sammy, I got this one. I’ll do it” She assured him.

“She asked me to.” Sam shook his head, “You don’t have to” Dean assured him. Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "Yes, I do” Sam's voice was hoarse from holding back tears. He then put his hand out for y/n to give him the gun. “Please”

Y/N sighed, and handed Sam the gun. “Just wait here” He croaked as he took it from her and then got up from his chair, heading towards the room where Madison was waiting. Dean and Y/N exchanged a weary, heavy look.

Sam turned to Dean and Y/N with a tear filled face before pushing himself to enter the room. As Sam shut the door behind him, they could faintly hear the murmur of voices coming from inside the room. It was difficult to make out the words, but their voices were gentle and filled with sadness.

Seeing his brother so pained broke him inside out. Y/N was not taking it lightly either, holding back her own tears along with Dean as they waited for the gunshot to ring out. Dean wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her in close as a sense of helplessness washed over him. The finality of the situation was unbearable, and he found comfort in holding onto her.

They waited in excruciating silence. After what felt like hours, they heard the sound of the gunshot. Dean and Y/N flinched, the female hunter buried her face into Dean's chest. Tears streamed down her face and she held onto him tighter, seeking comfort.

The sound of the shot rang in their ears like a death knell. For people who use guns as often as they did, it was a sound that would haunt them for a long time to come. Dean's grip involuntarily tightened around Y/N as she buried her face in his chest, seeking solace in him. He swallowed hard, his own eyes stinging with tears.

He allowed them to flow freely as he clutched his love against him, stroking her hair, not only to comfort her but also himself. It was a devastating moment, one that weighed heavily on their hearts.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Yeah, so-😭💔 I’m so not crying *sobs into pillow* I LOVE YOU MADISON, YOU DESERVED BETTER😭😭😭

Other than that, I hope everyone enjoyed this episode, it was a sad one and I did my best to write around it because I’m a Sam and Jo stan lol.

No hate to Madison, I actually loved her and she slayed her one episode of screentime.

Lmk what you loved and what you hated. Also, that cigarette scene🫠🫠🫠

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe

Xoxo

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mojaves · 8 months

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unmoisturised. bothered. running into oncoming traffic.

commission i got of my oc alex by the bestest boy bones @quickhacked [: all the info is here if youre interested in getting one!!

#oc alex #have you seen him!!!! look at him. corpse man #ive said it before and ill say it again. commission bones when you get the chance!!! he is very talented and kind #and very VERY easy to work with [:

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brainstirfry · 9 months

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REACTION SPEED [Heroic: failure] - a single ravioli, damp from the water, still pleasantly steaming, lands with a defeated slap, on the linoleum floor. You see it happen, watch it flip through the air, like an Olympic bronze off the high-dive, or a suicidal veteran of war. you feel yourself shout a "No!", but it is too late. there, the ravioli, impossibly, lays limp. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - Why, it thinks, why me? For all the time I was grown and processed then crafted and for all the time I have waited for the only purpose which I was made for. To be cast so suddenly, so errantly, into the realm of the beyond? Beyond savior. DRAMA - And here you stand, clad like a captain with your wooden spoon, watching as an honorable soldier, nay, a man, lies without your hand to aid him, on the kitchen floor.

VOLITION - you must act, now! first it must be picked up, then its fate can be decided. COMPOSURE - Its fate is the trash. AUTHORITY - Its fate is the trash. YOU - You pick up the ravioli, it is hot, nearly still boiling, gushing steam and hot pasta blood down your hand. It hurts, but standing here, there is nowhere else for it. PERCEPTION - It looks fine... LOGIC - Don't do this. SHIVERS [Heroic: Success] - Somewhere southeast of here, perhaps hundreds of miles, grain sprouts in a field, rich wheat, and butternut squash, only an acre over. The wind whistles through the fields, running like gleeful children through the tiny, green plants. Some will be eaten by birds, worms, or moles, but some will reach high into the sky, where they will be plucked and ground into pasta dough. You have seen the birthplace of this soldier. It is humble, a beautiful childhood, and so, so long ago. An entire pasta-lifetime, now. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - I thought I had finally made it. And with my brethren... YOU - You look at the bowl, the rest of the ravioli, steaming in mournful, pyrrhic celebration. My company... EMPATHY - This ravioli could be you. You can't give up on it now. Not because of your own mistake. AUTHORITY - This is not what a dignified man would do. send him off and mourn, perhaps, but do not spend one moment more considering his limp, cooling corpse. DRAMA - Where has your heart gone, O Honorable One? Authority - … EMPATHY - the greatest service you could do for this little soldier, and for all those beyond you that forged him, is to eat him. What else is rightfully to be done? VISUAL CALCULUS - It was on the floor for less than 4.7 whole seconds. ENCYLOPEDIA - most forms of bacterium are able to jump, especially to wet materials, in about 1.2- PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - any residue on your kitchen floor may well be material which was once already in your stomach. CONCEPTUALIZATION - if you think about it, that means you've already kind of eaten the ravioli.

INLAND EMPIRE - From the Floor, Of the Floor, To the Floor. To be, or not to be, one with this eternal cycle? ENDURANCE - Anything the floor could not contain, you could digest. (with VOLITION) We are iron. HALF LIGHT - Bite into its soft, warm flesh. EMPATHY - Give it peace. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Eat the floor-violi, pasta slut! YOU - weeping, bring the ravioli to your lips, and then, impossibly, with infinite mercy, love, bring it into you. It tastes fantastic. You would have never know it was on the floor at all. You can feel the hum of satisfaction, the glory of it in your lungs, swelling to fill you more than even a pasta-feast could. This is the mercy you wish your God could cast on you, when you fall. KIM KITSURAGI - "Harry,"

#disco elysium #harrier du bois #kim kitsuragi #should i start writing fanfiction #a little dicklet of fanfiction #i think they call it a drabble #based on a true story #i drabbled everywhere sorry #needs to be drawn

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

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No but imagine finding zombie!ghost. He obviously is different, doesn't try to attack you, his jaw looks broken. He steps away from you as soon as he realizes you're in the same room. You take pity on him, and you lower the gun pointed on his head. Very contradictory, ending him would probably end his suffering. But there's something in his white dead eyes that shows an ounce of something.

You Cary on your way but remain in the same small town. You see him run around once in a while, fighting other zombies. He's one of the fastest zombies you've seen since the outbreak. It sends chills of terror through your body. Sometimes you catch his eye as you rummage through some leftovers left in the houses. He tilts his head, once he even seems to keep away an undead that got too close.

But that couldn't be true. After all... he's just a corpse... infected by a brain controlling virus.

After two weeks of seeing him, from afar and sometimes way too close, you start to wonder what's so different about him. You lay awake in the bed of an abandoned bedroom after you've secured the house you're in. Until you hear footsteps. Quite ones. Human ones.

You panic and rush to jump on your knife, ready to fight but the door flies open and a large man jumps on you, you kick and fight, stabbing him in the shoulder blade but he pins you down. And you think it's over, that's it. Until a common growl is heard. And suddenly it's him, dragging the man on top of you away. Scratching at his throat while blood gushes out. You want to throw up but you're so shocked you can't look away.

When the man doesn't move anymore, he turns to you, looking at you and tilting his head. You tried to catch your breath. He just saved you. Now you're sure he's different. You crawl to him and he takes a step back. You raise your hands in surrender and you watch him fall to his knees. You scan his attire, a military man obviously. You can't seem to find a name. Until you remember that they have dog tags. You scoot closer, he flinches.

"I just... want to see your dog tags. Do you understand?"

What are you doing? Talking to a zombie who probably doesn't understand you anymore. That simply has a tiny bit of humanity left. Probably not for long. Your hands raise slowly and he doesn't move. Your heart is beating so fast and so loudly in your ears. When your fingers touch his cold neck you shiver, trying to touch a hint of a chain. Until you do. And you slowly retrieve the tags from underneath his vest.

"Lt. Simon 'ghost' Riley." You read. "Simon..." he growls almost annoyed. "Ghost?" You try. He lowers his head.

You don't know if you're in shock or dreaming. You scan his vest, a hint of paper in one of his front pockets intriguing your brain. You point at it.

"Can I see?"

He doesn't make a move so you tempt it. You retrieve it, it's a picture. A squad with four men. Him, obviously and three others. Behind, 'task force 141' is roughly scribbled.

"your team... are they dead?"

No answer. As if he could speak.

"you're... looking for them?" You tempt, frowning slightly.

He growls. Yes. He is. He's kept his humanity for a little while. Because he wants to find his team.

You sigh, putting back the picture in his pocket carefully and his dog tags in his vest. You keep scanning him, looking at his attire his face, the blood and dirt.

"We should get you a little cleaning..." you say mindlessly. He tilts his head.

He saved your life. You owe him. You owe this undead man. Should you help him? After all... you aren't busy with anything else but surviving.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #zombie ghost #zombie simon riley

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glorfindel-of-imladris · 3 months

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(tw: death, gore, horror)

I love how downright creepy Sauron is.

He's your neighbourhood psychopathic genius, a skilled sorcerer whose allegiance was realigned once (to his true alignment imo) and then never since waivered.

Unlike Morgoth, who was more straightforward in his execution, Sauron's style is insidious, and in a sense more horrific for how slow and personal his tactics can be. His temper is such that he can play the long game, even play at being weak in order to earn trust or make his enemies complacent, and then next thing you know he has an old friend's corpse up as a war banner, or he has sunk a once great island down the Sea.

He bred the Orcs. Tolkien played with different version of the origin of Orcs, but what I like best is the version where they were corrupted Men, maybe even Elves, and although they were Melkor's idea, it was Sauron who had the ability, patience and tenacity to make the idea come to fruition.

He built cults. Do you know what cults are like? How they draw people in, what they make people believe, what they get people to do? From an outsider looking in it must have looked truly bizarre, but Sauron was able to turn a powerful nation against the Valar and painted Morgoth as the true god. Eru Ilúvatar was denied as a false god, and the Valar made to be liars. There were blood sacrifices, human sacrifices—all for a religion Sauron invented, but was so successful that, once Númenor was gone, Sauron brought the cult with him to Middle-earth.

He was called The Necromancer. What made him garner the title? Who gave it to him, and what had they seen? Surely the Nazgûl were not the first of their kind, not when the Nine were already so well-made. What manner of experimentation had Sauron done in order to make them, and what did the "failures" look like? What knowledge did he use to corrupt and circumvent the Gift of Ilúvatar, which gave Men free will and death, allowing their spirits to transcend Arda? And yet the Nazgûl were unable to die, and as wraiths they also lost their free will, bound to Sauron and the call of the Ring.

He corrupted kings. He corrupted his own kind. Curumo could not have been the only one, and we know Curumo was a powerful Maia in his own right, the leader of the Istari. Sauron played mind games with the best of people, and won. His ability to seduce even the most powerful beings and get them in his service was unparalleled.

Now imagine being a native of Mordor and witnessing the poisoning of the lands. And then an age later, imagine being from one of the villages around Rhovanion and experiencing the slow haunting of Amon Lanc. At least the Eldar could see Sauron and his agents; none of the Men can do so. What defense did the common Man have against such insidious evil? There must only have been odd sensations, a dread settling in, dreams that lure them in before turning into nightmares.

#god i love him #i don't say it enough but sauron is my favourite villain #best villain in all of literature and you cannot convince me otherwise #sauron #mairon #but this is why i call him sauron #he earned that name #the lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien's legendarium #meta

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ghouldump · 2 months

Text

God Complex | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ you want out, realizing your little family isn’t as perfect as you thought, but they would never let you slip away so easily.

i definitely went overboard 😅

“Lestat, you don’t have to do this,” Louis stressed.

“She has to learn, it’s either this, or we are exposed,” Lestat said, shutting the coffin. Under the pebbles you laid, crying, begging for forgiveness. Despite your attempts to break free, the coffin wouldn’t budge.

“Louis, please, Lestat, I’m sorry,” you screamed, your voice falling on deaf ears, as he shut the door of the basement, leaving you alone at the bottom of the townhouse.

“Neither of you are to let her out, a few days will teach her a needed lesson,” he pointed at the two. Louis looked distressed, knowing his companion was right, despite his desire to argue. While Claudia frowned, saddened by your cries, but knew better than to go against her father’s words.

“I’m sorry,” you kept crying. If only you could take it back. This was your second time acting so careless, and you knew better than to think Lestat would let you do this a third.

From the moment Lestat turned you, you were a wildflower. He loved how animalistic you became, while Louis enjoyed how sweet you remained. Claudia was happy to finally have someone new in their lives, other than the two.

You were exceptional at hunting, and Lestat became lenient, oftentimes letting you wander. You’d find your meal, and quickly and efficiently discard the mess. However, when the arrogant salesman came into the bar, speaking to everyone as if they were beneath him, your tongue tingled at the sight.

The thought of him submitting and begging for mercy turned you on beyond comprehension. Biting your lip, you stood, approaching him, intentionally bumping his shoulder. His hand went to your waist, as he began to apologize, while his eyes not so discreetly roamed.

“Garret Anderson, darling,” he introduced, as you shook his hand.

“Hi,” you smiled, mischievously.

“Not him, choose someone else,” you heard Louis’s voice. Usually, you’d listen, but you couldn’t this time, not when the smell of his blood made you feel feral in the best way.

“Would you like to dance-

“Come with me,” you ignored him, grabbing his hand to pull him out of the establishment. He grinned, thinking he had won a prize when he was walking straight into the trap.

Pushing him into the dim alley, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, pressing your body against his own.

“Oh, I don’t think I got your name”

“You don’t worry about my name, sugar, just focus on my voice,” you told him, as he looked into your eyes.

“Ok,” he nodded, hypnotized.

“Y/n, Lestat doesn’t want you to choose him,” Claudia said, as you bare your teeth.

“It’s too late,” you spoke, biting his neck, drinking his life away.

“Please,” you heard him inaudible beg, his grip loosening from your arm, as his form began to weaken.

“What part of not him did you not understand?” Lestat asked, snappily, standing behind you, as you released the man, watching his corpse sink to the wet ground.

“Was I supposed to play with my food?” You pouted, the action usually worked, but this time he kept the harsh gaze.

“This man is related to Tom Anderson and the last person he has been seen with, was you,” he said angrily.

“I didn't know, and I always clean up after myself,” you defended.

“That isn’t the point, you get the order to choose another and you still chose to disobey, putting all of our lives at risk, again,” Lestat said, trying to keep his composure, feeling himself about to yell.

“We can talk about this when we get home, Claudia and I will clean up,” Louis said, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

However, after the body was burned, Lestat continued to yell, before deciding to bury you in the rock-filled coffin, as a punishment.

You weren’t sure how long you were locked away, starving. It could have only been days, but on an empty stomach, it felt like weeks. You cried for too many hours, begging, trying to communicate with Louis and Claudia - but no one ever came. No one would come, you’d be left here to starve to death until Lestat was ready to release you.

You began to dream, imagining yourself on all kinds of adventures. Traveling to different countries, tasting the different people, none of which Lestat planned on doing soon. He made the rules and you all went along, occasionally finding compromise. Finally, after what felt like forever, the coffin was opened.

Louis worriedly pulled you out, Claudia dusting the rocks off of you. Lestat didn’t say a word, standing behind the two, watching as they tended to you. Slowly approaching you, he placed his hand under you jaw, making you look up.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, before making his way upstairs.

“Y/n,” you jumped, snapping out of the trance as Louis opened the coffin, holding his hand out for you to grab.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly, as he grinned, helping you out.

“It’s alright, why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll be waiting on you,” he winked, leaving you to change.

As you made your way down the stairs, you kept your eyes down, feeling his gaze.

Claudia was first to swing the door open, excitedly skipping out of the house - Louis not too far behind. Gulping, you went to follow him, when Lestat grabbed your waist, stopping you.

“You look nice, ma chèrie,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” you smiled, rushing to join Louis.

You didn’t wander, staying close with the group, choosing the easiest target. You’d always preferred your meal flamboyant, the loudest in the room always had the sweetest blood. However, you were too afraid to upset Lestat, ending up in the cramped coffin again.

Cleaning your mouth, you sat on one of the many benches in the park. You were still hungry, starving actually. The pathetic excuse of a human was no where near filling. As Lestat and Louis approached, their meals close behind like lambs being led to the slaughter, you got up.

Entering the house, you were about to follow Claudia upstairs, when Lestat grabbed your hand, leading you back down.

“I want you to be more vigilant about prey, not neglect and starve yourself, come, we have a plus one,” he told you, before announcing to the trio of men you’d be joining them.

“Do you think there is more to life than New Orleans?” You asked your coworker, Carol.

“I ain’t got time to think about that Y/n, I’m 24 and already a widow with an infant,” she huffed, wiping the table.

Opening your eyes you stared up at the coffin, trying to think back. You didn’t remember too much about your mortal life, not even your family. You worked at a bar when you met Louis and Lestat, both incredibly charming. You were interesting to them, this wasn’t anything new for Lestat, he had no problem admiring multiple people. Louis on the other hand, was surprised by his interest. You were easy on the eyes with the kindest soul, lighting up the room with your presence.

You ended up getting pneumonia and despite taking the needed medication, you began to succumb. On the brink of death, you saw him, was he a god? angel of death? You didn’t know, tiredly watching as the two men exchanged words of agreement, before he lifted you, biting your neck.

You remembered the agony, throwing up as your body rejected your soul, killing itself. Louis carried you, while Lestat led the way, and the rest of your memory was gone.

Opening your coffin, you looked around the room, each side of you was a black coffin, empty. Noticing the small note on Lestat’s as you climbed out.

‘Louis and I have business to attend to this evening, I trust you will hunt with Claudia, ma chèrie’ - L

Sitting the letter down, you walked down the stairs. Knowing Claudia, she had already left. Slipping on your shoes you began to walk the streets. The memories replayed in the back of your mind, as your feet aimlessly moved. Recognizing your surroundings, you slowed down, staring into the bar you’d plucked the Anderson relative from.

Suddenly, someone bumped your shoulder, catching your attention. An older woman, holding shopping bags.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry-Y/n?” You were stuck like a dear caught in headlights.

“God has brought my baby home, don’t just stand there and give your mama a hug,” she sat the bags down, as you cautiously approached, letting her tightly wrap her arms around you.

You were thankful for the times you practiced restraint and self control. It had been nearly three years of being a vampire, stuck at 26 and you grew better and better at controlling your urges around mortals, despite the occasional slip ups.

“Mama?”

“Oh baby, I knew you’d come back eventually, how was New York?” She asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“New York?” You questioned, confused.

“Why don’t you come home, just for tonight?” She asked, hopeful. Slowly you nodded, letting her lead you to her car, handing the bags to her driver, you sat in the back seat next to her. Looking around, you hoped your surroundings would seem familiar but you had no clue where you were headed. After nearly fifteen minutes of driving, and your mother gushing about how much you were missed, the car began to slow down.

As the large house came into view, you frowned, unable to remember living there. The driver parked, and the front door opened.

“Did you get-Y/n? Y/n is back,” the younger boy who was exiting the house stopped, jumping for joy, screaming inside. A few more people came out, a familiar face catching your attention.

“Y/n,” the woman screamed, running to you, colliding into you, as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Carol, can you make sure Y/n is made comfortable,” your mother asked.

“Of course, mama,” she nodded, grabbing your hands, leading you into the house.

“What’s with your eyes?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she let it go, as you stopped near the stairs, seeing all of the portraits. Family portraits. You stood amongst them, in the photos, even a painted portrait of yourself, along with your siblings.

“Daddy is going to be very happy to see you,” she smiled, pulling you up the stairs to a bedroom.

“Where is he?” You asked, eyeing the room before you sat next to her on the bed.

“At the sugar mill, duh, you know he’s a workaholic,” she laughed, before sitting up.

“So how have you been? The last time I saw you, you were going on and on about that De Pointe Du Lac,” she smirked, biting her lip.

“I’m fine, Louis is fine,” you nodded.

“My god, you married him? I hear he has a popular business in the quarter-

“No, we have a…companionship, if that makes sense,” you mumbled, as she raised her eyebrows.

“Oh? That’s nice-

“Daddy’s home,” the younger boy burst into the room, his eyes focused on you.

Standing up, you followed Carol from the room, down the stairs. Seeing the men and women standing downstairs, you stared plainly. These were your siblings and yet you couldn’t remember or feel a thing.

“It’s good to see you,” the man, your brother, smiled, pulling you into a side hug before you followed them into the dining room.

Your father sat already, at the head of the table. Turning to face you, he stood up, you could hear his heart pounding, trembling. Slowly approaching you, you spoke up.

“Daddy,” you tried to sound as normal as possible, when he slung his arms around you. He began to cry, while you listened in on his thoughts. You were his favorite.

“You two come sit, stop crying before I start too,” your mother laughed, as your father pulled away in agreement.

“So how was New York?”

“Yeah and why didn’t you say goodbye, like you send a letter and disappear for three years,” your younger sister interrupted.

“Deloris, stop it, I’m sure Y/n wanted to stop by but couldn’t,” your mother interjected.

“I-New York was fine, very beautiful,” you said, accepting one of the many bowls of food being passed along. Taking a small piece of meat, you sat it on your nearly empty plate.

“You came just in time for Joseph’s engagement, he’s met a fine young lady from Gretna, Sarah, she’ll be here in a few days,” your mother pointed at your brother.

“Finally, he’s nearly 30 and we never thought he’d get married,” your younger brother said, making everyone laugh.

“Congratulations,” you told Joseph.

“Thank you, and have you married, or are you with someone?”

“I have companions,” you smiled, nervously.

“Multiple?” Your father asked, stunned.

“One of them is Louis,” Carol clapped.

“The De Point Du Lac? I hear he lives with that French man-

“Lestat De Lioncourt, god to be under him for a night”

“Deloris, watch your mouth”

“Sorry”

“You managed to stay in contact with him, but couldn’t reach out to your family?” Your father spoke, a saddened expression.

“It’s complicated,” you mumbled.

“You don’t think it’s a bit…scandalous to have two lovers, who is the other?” your mother asked.

“Lestat,” you said, clearing your throat, bracing yourself as nearly everyone gasped.

“Lucky,” Deloris snickered.

‘Y/n, where are you?’ You heard Clauia’s voice, but you didn’t respond.

“Y/n, please tell me you're joking,” your father shook his head.

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” you said, straightening your posture.

‘Y/n, where are you at?’ Louis asked, making you clinch your jaw.

“You kept in contact with those peculiar men, but it never crossed your mind to come home,” he slightly raised his voice.

“I said it was complicated,” you screamed over him, stabbing the fork into the meat, breaking the plate, before standing up, going to storm out of the house.

“Y/n, wait,” your mother chased you, stopping you before you could leave.

“I’m sorry I came here,” you apologized.

“No no, everyone is handling you being home differently, stay, you can go up to your room, here, I have something for you,” she reached for your cold hand, her warm thumb brushing over your veins. Leading you upstairs in the room, she went to the nightstand, pulled out a diary, handing it to you.

“I kept it, in case you ever came home, and I made sure no one read it,” she smiled sadly, kissing your forehead before she turned to leave.

‘Ma chèrie, enough of this, come home’ Lestat said. You knew they were probably worried, for him to also use his powers to reach out to you.

‘I won’t be home tonight,’ you spoke, sending the message.

“Did you say something, honey?” Your mother stopped, turning to face you.

“No, ma’am,” you shook your head, watching as she exited the room.

Opening the book, your fingers traced down the words, the minor annotations, and little drawings on the side. You could still hear your vampire family faintly in your head when the room door opened.

“Hey, Daddy is sorry, he’s too ashamed of how he acted to face you right now, but I’m just letting you know, that Joseph, Antony, and Loretta left,” Carol spoke.

“Ok,” you chuckled.

“Also, I apologize in advance for the noise, Frankie is coming home soon and he is still a handful,” she laughed.

“Frankie?”

“Yes and he is going to be so excited to see his favorite Aunt,” she said, before shutting the door.

Closing the curtain, grabbing a pillow, and climbing under the bed, you read the diary. Entry to entry, you consumed the thoughts of your former self, your heart growing more confused as you began to remember. By the time you finished, Claudia and Louis became silent while the sun was peeking into the room.

Slamming the book shut, your mind ran wild, questioning everything you thought you’d known. Your nails digging into the floor. Feeling the bloody tear slip down your eye, you quickly wiped it, as a you heard a soft knock.

“Y/n? Y/n?” Your mother called out, a bit of panic in her voice.

“I’m under here,” you called out, waving from under the bed.

Lifting her dress, she moved to the floor, her eyes widening seeing you.

“What are you doing under here, honey?” She asked.

“I…I recently was diagnosed with a disease, my skin doesn’t react well in the sun anymore, burning, irritation, the doctor says I should avoid it altogether,” you said, almost feeling guilty for lying, hearing how much it saddened her thoughts.

“I see, give me a few hours and I’ll make sure things are more comfortable around here, you try to get some sleep, love you”

“I love you too,” you said, watching as she left the room.

‘Y/n, please tell me you are okay, we can’t sleep’ you heard Louis’s voice.

‘I am fine’

‘Where are you?’

‘That is none of any of your concerns’

‘Don’t be like that, what's the matter-

You shut your eyes, blocking out Louis’ voice, taking deep breaths, you thought about the words from the diary, as the sleep passed over you.

‘Mama and daddy have been arguing as of lately. I’m 25 with no boyfriend or engagement, still living with them. Daddy doesn’t see a problem with it, I have more time to find the perfect husband he argues, while Mama thinks I’m not even looking. I haven’t been, but that’s because as special as New Orleans is, no one seems special enough to catch my attention. Since the issue has come up, I’ve found myself with Carol more. She is trying to find a new husband, a new father for Frankie, since his dad died in the Navy’

“All of the bachelors come here, you just might find yourself a treat,” Carol giggled, as the two of you sat at the table. The fancy restaurant in the French Quarter wasn’t too interesting to you. You were already wealthy, and guaranteed quite the inheritance, while all of the women stood around, almost looking as if they were waiting on their lottery ticket.

“Do you ever wonder if there is more to life, than New Orleans?” You asked her boredly, as she made eye contact with the banker, waving at him.

“I ain’t got time to think about that Y/n, I’m 24 and already a widow with an infant,” she told you, standing, before walking to the man, sure to sway her hips, reeking of seduction.

Now alone, you sipped your wine, leaning back in your seat. The few men who looked your way eventually backed away, as you kept a scowl on your face.

“If you keep your face like that, it might get stuck,” you heard, making you turn to face the crèole man.

“If only I could see the appeal of this restaurant, then I wouldn’t frown,” you told him, as he sat down.

“I agree, everything is so tasteless and looks so-

“Cheap,” you and the blonde-haired man said at the same time, making you smile.

“I’m Y/n,” you held out your hand.

“Louis de Pointe du Lac,” he accepted your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“And you, do you have a name?”

“Lestat De Lioncourt,” he said, taking your hand from Louis, kissing your knuckles.

“Would you like to get out of here?” Louis started.

“Sorry boys, I hope you didn’t think I was that easy,” you pouted, laughing as Carol approached.

“You ready to go?” You asked, seeing the look of disappointment on her face.

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms.

“It was wonderful to meet you both, goodbye”, you told them, standing up, and walking with Carol back to the car. Looking back, your eyes met theirs once more before you were on your way.

‘Lestat and Louis, there had been plenty of rumors that the two were lovers, even I was sure they were. However, they continued to reach out, inviting me to spend time with them. Carol’s friend, Lucy, thinks they might be competing to win my hand in marriage, but I think it’s far from that.’

“Mr. De Lioncourt hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night,” Lucy bumped your shoulder, as you stood amongst the women. You were trying to not be “shameless” keeping your contact with Lestat and Louis to a minimum. However, their eyes had been glued on you from the moment you entered the party, and they weren’t even hiding it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” one of the women rolled her eyes, perking up, as they approached.

“Ma chèrie, you never responded to our letter,” Lestat told you, as you stared at the two of them surprised but confused.

“With your flowers,” Louis said, as you gasped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice a note with them, they are in my room, I’ll look when I’m home”

“Please do, we’re dying to know your response,” he told you, slinging his arm around Louis as they walked away. All of the women frowning in jealousy, while Carol laughed at them.

‘They are together, Lestat and Louis are together, but they like the idea of sharing? After a night of passion, I think it’s best that I stay away from the fabulously handsome men. I could never explain what happened to anyone without being judged, and so I will keep it to myself. They have been trying to reach out, but I am throwing every letter away. I hope they can understand.’

“I’m assuming you’re not a party girl?” Louis asked you, making you jump, swiftly turning around.

“This kind of party isn’t my thing, all of these people, hoping to get on my father’s good side, it's pathetic,” you crossed your arms, as he approached.

“How did you find where I was?” You asked him, tilting your head. You were hidden in your mother’s miniature hedge maze, sure no one would find you.

“I followed your scent, you always smell nice,” he grinned, while you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, what if I was a monster? luring you away from everyone,” you smirked at him.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be the monster”

“Why do you think that?” You squinted at him, making him laugh.

“You’re too cute, too precious, you should be more careful, you could’ve been being followed by a big bad wolf,” he taunted.

“I can defend myself perfectly fine”

“Is that right?”

“Of course,” you smiled, watching as he leaned forward, his lips pressing against your own. Wrapping his arm around your waist, you moaned, before he pulled away.

Gasping, you noticed Lestat standing only feet away. Taking his usual confident strides, he stopped in front of Louis, the two sharing a passionate kiss. As the kiss broke off, he walked around to you, his hand softly going to the back of your neck, before he pulled you into a kiss.

“Be our companion…”

“Our’s alone…”

“Ok,” you agreed, not understanding at the time, the situation you'd put yourself in.

Standing in front and behind you, they took turns, kissing from your neck to mouth, slowly removing the articles of clothing. By the time you were finished, they laid in the grass, smiling, praising you, while you hurriedly dressed.

“I have to go,” you told them, running away, your hand going to your neck, where a bite mark resided.

‘My intuition was wrong about the two, Lestat and Louis are dangerous. Lestat seemed possessive, he didn’t like the idea of me entertaining another man besides him or Louis. But Louis, he seemed convinced I was perfect with the two of them, they both just seemed delusional. I recently caught the pneumonia virus and I’m trying to heal, and get over the fact that I was sick for my birthday but their constant sending of gifts isn’t making me feel any better.’

“Y/n, honey,” your mother called out, making you open your eyes.

“Yes?”

“It is safe to come out,” she said, as you slowly made your way out, noticing the windows covered by a board.

Leading you down the stairs, you felt uncomfortable seeing your siblings stare at you like an animal in zoo.

“Mama told us about your skin condition, I’m sorry, I-we can have the engagement at night,” Joseph offered.

“I couldn’t do that to you-

“It would be a pleasure, I want you there, and Sarah won’t mind, she’ll be here tomorrow”

“Then I’d love that,” you smiled, nodding.

“Wonderful, I have something you can wear,” your mother clapped.

“I was hoping I could talk to you, about something,” you told your mother, as she sat on the sofa.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Do you remember when I was sick, with the pneumonia?”

“Yes”

“When I was staying in the hospital-

“Hospital? You didn’t stay in a hospital, you were in your room. We were so worried, when you first caught it, but your body fought hard, you were better in no time,” she said, her hand on her heart.

“How long was I here before I left, for New York? Reading the diary has my brain a little foggy,” you told her.

“Only a few days after, I believe, before you left your letter,” she said, looking away at the memory.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, trying to remember what happened. The fuzzy memory slightly coming back.

“It’s okay, honey, you’re here now,” she waved.

Sitting up in bed, pillows propped up behind you, you listened to the vinyl jazz music. Playing low in the room you hummed lightly. Everyone had left the previous day, going to see relatives, but you were still too sick to go. Although you were already feeling better, no longer bed-bound with a nasty fever. Hearing the sound of the front door opening, your ears perked up, as you climbed out of the bed. Stopping the music, you slowly tiptoed out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs

“Ma chèrie, it isn’t nice to ignore people who care about you,” Lestat said from the bottom of the stairs.

Shaking your head, you went to run, bumping into Louis. Who also, didn’t look too happy, backing down the stairs, you froze, seeing Lestat slowly walk up to you. You were trapped, dropping to your knees, you shielded yourself.

“Please,” you covered your face, gasping in confusion as you were lifted, carefully brought to the sofa in the living room.

“You haven’t seen any of our letters?” Louis asked angrily before Lestat spoke.

“You ignored us out of society-inflicted shame,” Lestat started.

“No, it was nothing more than casual sex,” you said before he squished your cheeks together.

“If you weren’t so afraid of being judged by society, would you continue to deny yourself the pleasures you deserve?” Lestat asked, sitting next to you.

“One of you bit me, I don’t think I want either of you,” you told him as he chuckled before you noticed his abnormally sharp teeth. Fangs.

“She doesn't want us, hear that Louis, we’re being rejected by our companion,” Lestat laughed loudly, as Louis stared at you as if you had two heads.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and your parents and your younger siblings entered the house. Doing a double take, your father frowned.

“What's going on in here?”

“Nothing Daddy, we're just talking,” you stood up, moving in between him and the two peculiar men. Looking at them, you noticed the fangs in Louis's mouth.

“I don't think so, you two boys need to leave my house,” he said, the look on their faces showed they were highly offended at the choice of words.

“I am no boy, I am much older than you…” Lestat stood up.

“Don't hurt them,” you told them, your eyes going from Louis to Lestat.

“Perhaps we can get to an agreement, they are spared, in exchange for your companionship,” Lestat offered. You searched for his face, trying to see if he was serious, while he stood, waiting on your response.

“Fine,” you sighed, watching as Louis approached your family, putting them into a trance.

“You came home and went straight to bed, Y/n was feeling better and decided to spend time with some friends tonight-

“You should grab your things, ma chérie, and don't worry, that shame and fear instilled into you will be no more in a short while,” he told you, ushering you to go upstairs, while Louis made up a story to your family.

By the time you finished packing, they were gone, only Louis and Lestat waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. Not saying a word, you followed them to the car, trying to let the realization sink in, but it still all seemed surreal.

Entering their home you nervously followed them, into the bedroom.

“You can meet Claudia later,” Louis said, as they stared at you.

“Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” he corrected you, but nodded.

“Ok”

“Y/n, the love that we’ve grown for you, it’s inhumanly, meant to be shared for an eternity, we can give you that,” Louis told you.

“You’re scared, I can make sure you don’t feel any pain, I can give you a piece of everlasting life. None of the things you have in this life hold any value to you, but I can give you something you will cherish,” Lestat told you.

“Choose us and we’ll choose you for the rest of eternity,” Louis said, before you hesitatingly nodded.

“You won’t be in pain for long,” Lestat told you, before he pulled you close, biting into your neck. Falling limb in his arms, he laid you on the bed, cutting his wrist, feeding his blood to you.

Shortly after, your body felt like it was on fire, your vision blurry. The two men stood over you, talking, Louis asking for a favor and Lestat debating on if he wanted to give in.

“Do it, before it’s too late, please,” he said, before Lestat looked at him, nodding, and facing you.

“Look at me, ma chèrie, you used to be a waitress at a bar…we were frequent customers when you met us….” As Lestat told you the fabricated story, he made sure to completely conceal your memory of your mortal life, as Louis requested.

As the memory came to mind your hands went to your eyes, trying to stop the bloody tears from leaking. The memory that changed the way that you viewed your maker and companions.

“Are you alright dear?” your mother asked, worried.

“I'm fine, mama, just happy to be home,” you told her, making her smile.

“Awe, honey, I'm glad that you are home, we all are,” she gushed, pulling you into a firm hug, before continuing with her conversation with your sibling.

‘Y/n’ Louis called out to you.

“Excuse me,” you said, getting up, going to the bathroom.

‘Leave me alone, please’ you told him.

‘Where is this coming from?’

‘I just need this time away, it’s just me time’ you told him, staring at your reflection.

‘Y/n, are you coming home?’ You heard Claudia.

‘Eventually’

‘Alright, love you’

‘Love you too’ you told her, before leaving the bathroom.

“Y/n, I just wanted to apologize for my outburst last night. What you do in your private life is your business, and I’m happy you’re home,” your father said, nervously, as you came back into the living room. Smiling, you didn’t say anything, approaching him, pulling him into a hug.

As night fell, everyone turning in for bed, you went to the backyard, thankful to find a few rodents to feed on. With your hunger satisfied, you went to your room. Sitting at the desk, you ripping a piece of paper from the diary, grabbing an envelope from the drawer.

‘I don’t think this companionship will work out anymore. Lie after lie, neither of you have been honest or truthful with me. I thought relationships were built and thrived on trust. Not ours, a big lie to feed both of your delusional obsessions. Stay away from me. I will be leaving New Orleans soon, probably headed back to New York’ you wrote, placing a stamp on the envelope.

“Hey,” you called out, as you went outside stopping the teenage boy on his bike.

“Bring this to Lestat De Lioncourt, his address is 1132 Royal Street,” you hypnotized the boy.

“But that’s all the way in the French Quarter,” he said in a monotone voice.

“I know, you will go right before the sun rises and it is okay because you were paid to do this,” you told him, watching as he smiled.

“You’re right,” he nodded, accepting the letter, before taking the money in his other hand, stuffing it into his pocket.

“Go on now, it’s getting late,” you told him, as he nodded, riding home to his house as you went inside.

“Y/n, you okay, darling?” Your father stood at the top of the stares.

“I’m ok, daddy,” you smiled, going upstairs to your bedroom.

Just as the sun began to rise, the young boy peddled his bike, careful to stay out of the way of any cars. For a second he wished his dad could have driven him, the 30 minutes bike ride would have been much shorter in a car.

Finally, he arrived, panting, he approached the townhouse. Opening the gate, he approached the door. Knocking softly, before speaking.

“Mail for Lestat De Lioncourt,” he said, pushing the letter through the mail slot, before he left to peddle home.

Still wide awake, Lestat stood from his piano, approaching the door, stopping. He watched at the young hand slipped in, the letter floating to the floor, before the sound of the footsteps became distant.

Reading the letter, he felt a series of emotions, sadness, rage, disappointment.

“Louis,” he called out, his companion jogged down the stairs in confusion.

“Yeah?”

“Y/n remembers,” he gulped, as the two looked at each other.

“Looks like we’ll have to make a stop tonight,” Louis said, before going back to his coffin.

“You’re just as beautiful as Joseph said you were,” you gushed to Sarah. The house was filled with guests, the sun had set not too long ago, and the night was still young.

“Oh my, thank you, he talked about you all the time, I never thought I’d meet you,” she said.

“Y/n, come here,” Carol called from the kitchen, before you excused yourself, joining her.

“What?”

“Mr. Alexandre is asking to see you,” she lightly pushed you in the direction of the living room.

“Who?”

“He’s one of Daddy’s associates, he’s young, rich, and handsome,” she said.

“And why don’t you talk to him?”

“He wants to speak with you and I’d prefer his brother, I hear he’s a widower,” she whispered, as you turned, walking towards where the man stood, amongst a few other businessmen.

“Miss Y/n,” the man called out, stepping forward.

“Mr. Alexandre,” you said, accepting his hand.

“If I could have a moment with you…”

“You may,” you said, walking into the hallway with him, near the stairs. You could feel his colleagues staring at the two of you.

“What is it?”

“I was hoping I could take you out for dinner, perhaps the steamboat, there is a nice band that plays-

“I am sorry, but no thank you,” you shook your head, about to leave, but he gripped your forearm.

“A little birdy told me that you have a thing going on with the European and crèole man in the quarter, I thought they were homo-

“Mr. Alexandre, my personal business is none of your concern”

“Then to have that little girl with them, like she’s their daughter, it’s twisted. You don’t need to get involved with them, tarnishing your reputation,” he said, making you think back to the society-inflicted shame Lestat spoke about.

“Do not speak about my reputation or any of them,” you shoved him, watching as he collided into the wall. A few people gasped, coming to see what was the commotion.

“Y/n, what happened?” Your father asked as the front door opened.

Along with a gust of wind Lestat, Louis, and Claudia all walked in, heads turning as everyone murmured about them. All of the eyes were on them and they never looked their way, solely focused on you.

“Y/n, why haven’t you come home?” Claudia ran to you, pulling you into a hug. You could feel how tense she felt, you frowned at the thought of her being upset.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, closing your eyes and taking in her usually sweet scent.

“Y/n,” your mother called out, now standing next to your father, a confused expression in place.

Before you could say anything, Lestat turned her way, gasping, you stepped up, when he turned facing you. Immediately you stopped, your eyes going down, while he moved closer.

“Madame,” he held out his hand, accepting hers, before placing a soft kiss on it.

“Get away from my wife,” your father said, taking her hand back.

“So you was gonna leave home?” Louis asked you, taking off his glasses.

“You lied to me, both of you did,” you told him.

“Louis, what is she talking about?”

“Nothing, go wait outside Claudia”

“Louis-

“It’s okay, go wait outside,” you told her, watching as she walked away, bumping the shoulder of a few guests, scaring them.

“You…both of you, did this to me, and for what? to satisfy your fantasies-

“To save you, you don’t belong with these people, their rules and principles, your nature goes against all of it. You could have never been happy with the way they wanted you to become,” Lestat told you.

“Y/n, it’s not safe to be around any of them, how long do you think you’ll be able to resist your urges, it’s best to leave them where they’re at,” Louis told you.

“Is this the brainwash they both feed you, two queer men trying to destroy and isolate everything you’ve known. I wouldn’t burden you with such ideologies,” Mr. Alexandre said, standing up, limping off the pain.

“And what are those ideologies, you speak of?” The tension thickened in the room as Lestat was in front of him within a flash.

“I-I-“ he began to stutter.

“These ideologies include being unapologetic even if it goes against society, not putting limitations on yourself, and redefining what family is. None of these things you know anything of because you think Y/n is as brainless as the rest of these women,” Lestat said before roughly grabbing his jaw.

“You could learn a thing or two before you let your mouth run so loosely,” he said, shoving him, watching as he collided with the wall, breaking through the wallpaper.

“Now you-

Lestat raised his hand, freezing everyone in the room, as your father began to yell.

“Your memory was wiped away, but everything has been real. Our love, Claudia’s love, nothing was forced. These people have caused you nothing but anxiety and shame, but if you want to throw us away, for them, I won’t stop you,” Lestat screamed, storming away, as the bloody tear slipped from his eyes.

“I thought I could balance both lives, it isn’t possible,” Louis told you, as you kept your head down.

“Is it possible to take away their memory, I won’t kill them, if they could just go on with their lives like before I was here,” you asked, while he immediately nodded.

Lestat had been right about so many things, how different you were, the restrictions you felt in your previous life. You weren’t ready to be on your own, you still needed your family. Perhaps it was better for you to not have been aware of the truth, to begin with.

“That can be arranged,” he said, motioning for you to go outside with Claudia. Stopping in front of your mother, you kissed her cheek, before leaving the house.

Getting into the backseat of the car with Claudia, she intertwined her fingers with your own. Lestat didn’t say a word to you, walking back into the house, as everyone unfroze.

After nearly 15 long minutes, the two left the house. You could see the party continuing, Carol could be seen with a small boy in her arms, accepting him from an older woman. The entire ride home was painfully quiet. The faint music from the locals could be heard as the house came more into view.

Claudia went to her room, while you meekly followed the two to your shared room. Stepping out of their clothing, they were preparing for rest, when you stopped.

“Lestat, I-please make me forget again,” you asked, making them look at each other, before staring at you.

“After all of this-

Moving to your knees, you crawled to him, prepared to beg to him, as if he was your god. Raising his eyebrow, even he looked surprised by your actions.

“Please make me forget, and we can go back to how we were,” you told him. Reaching for his hand, your head laid upon it, begging for your wish to be granted.

“Stand up, ma chèrie”

“How was the hunt?” Louis asked as you and Claudia both entered the house.

“Wonderful,” you laughed, plopping next to him. Lestat sat at his piano, idly pressing the keys that still managed to sound effortless.

“What are you doing?” You asked Louis, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Catching up on the paper, gorgeous,” he smiled, flipping the newspaper.

Your eyes widened at the image of the article, L/n Sugar Mill family home is burned down, leaving no survivors after an extravagant engagement party.

“Wow, and that was such a nice house,” you said, pointing out the picture, before picking up a nearby book.

“It was,” Louis agreed lowly, the trio briefly making eye contact.

With your memory wiped once again, the last thing any of them wanted was another situation that could cause you to want to break away from them. No one could ever come close to loving you like the three and they made sure there was no would who would awaken your memories, tearing you away from your little family.

this may or may not be deleted later …

#lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt x reader #louis x reader #louis de pointe du lac x reader #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv

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arabellasleopardcoat · 10 months

Text

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?�� The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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secretlovezz · 4 months

Text

Kiss Me

Daryl Dixon x reader

Summary: while you and Daryl are out on a run feelings are disruptively revealed

Warnings: killing of walkers (duh), Daryl is implied to be older than reader, kissing (of course), just fluff, let me know if I've missed anything

Word count: 1299 (Think that's the most I've ever written on here lol)

Not Proofread

"Watch it."

Daryl's arm swings up lazily with his pointer finger aiming in a direction to the left of you where a walker slowly makes its way closer, stumbling and tripping over the dead plant life and its decaying limbs. You meet it halfway and its milky eyes meet yours, for a split second you let yourself wonder what kind of life this creature- no this woman- lived before the world went to shit, you take notice of the wedding ring on the ring finger of her left hand before her groans and growling got louder; your knife sinks its way into the shambling and rotting skull of the corpse and the body drops to the ground.

Up ahead a few feet Daryl watches you, your movements, your eyes and lips, your hands, he watches it all and he notices that look the one of sadness and empathy.

Before he and his group came to Alexandria you had yet to truly experience the outside world; the unrealistic safety of walls had kept you naive and unprepared for the dangers of the dead.

Though you are no longer naive to the world you still have your moments, moments where Daryl would remind you albeit a little harshly that there was nothing you could do to help these things- these "people".

When you catch up with him you smile in an attempt to convince him that you weren't thinking about what he knew you were. His brow raises at you and your eyes roll dramatically in return. You hit his arm playfully and smile again, somehow this one is brighter than the one before, "Let's keep going Dar' this food isn't gonna find itself ya' know." The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smirk when you look away from him to continue walking he can't look away even as he makes his way back to you and you seem to have no idea the effect you have on him.

《----------♡

The two of you come across what seems like a small town with few houses and stores, a town that's probably already been raided for its supplies but Alexandra's desperation for food and medicine prompts you and Daryl to double-check- just in case.

Your eyes wander around admiring the once nice country houses as you walk down one of the streets-you forget the name of it already- and once again let your mind float away to life before. Would you have lived in a house like this if you got the chance, to live a married life with children running around if it was possible? Would the man you'd have married be a man like Daryl?

Your cheeks heat just at the thought of a domestic life with him. Is he the type of man to kiss your forehead when the two of you wake up together in bed as the sun shines through the bedroom window? You wonder if he would be the type to kiss and tickle the kids to make them laugh. Would he want a life like that or would he laugh at the idea?

You don't realize it but your legs have stopped moving, you stare at one of the houses wishing and reminiscing on what could have been but can no longer be.

Daryl watched you again but this time in confusion, this is the first time he hasn't known what you were thinking.

"What is it? Seen somethin'?" He asked walking back over to where you were to peer into the windows of the house.

Your head whips over to him eyes widening and cheeks heating even hotter in embarrassment.

Your fingers hastily move to fidget with the straps of your backpack, "I- uh- we should... let's just keep going." You keep your head down in shame at your thoughts though they weren't lewd as you make your way past him. He wants so badly to grab your arm- to have his skin gently against yours in concern as you speedily go by but he restrains himself fingers twitching against his crossbow and he clears his throat to continue after you.

《----------♡

After thoroughly searching through a hand full of buildings that included, gas stations, houses, supermarkets, and pharmacies neither of your bags were full having over found a few bottles of not too important medicines and a couple of tools.

When the two of you found a house, and cleared it of threats, to hunker down in for the night after a day of disappointments you settled in the living room upset and tired- understandably so. Worrying about the ignominy you'd feel returning home with practically nothing you let out a sigh from deep within your chest and moved your hands so the the palm of them would dig roughly into the sockets of your eyes.

Daryl let out a similar deep sigh as he settled closely next to you. His head falls back and his eyes drift to you letting a gaze so intense that you could feel it fall onto you.

You look back at him and try to let a grin form on your face but its tight lipped and almost fatigued.

The older man lets his eyes travel your face for what feels like the millionth time basking in your unreal beauty and like always their destination is your lips, though cracked they looked soft. He realizes he's ogling too late but still tries to fixates his stare back to your eyes before you notice.

You'd noticed though.

You debate asking him about it no longer worried about the lack of supplies you guys hadn't found but about whether or not you had imagined Daryl Dixon staring at your lips with a yearning you'd only seen in movies before the dead rose.

"Do you-um-" Talking about something as simple as feeling was more complex than they made it seem in movies though and you'd already stuttered over yourself an embarrassing amount of times today.

You leaned your face a little closer to his and his breath hitched. "Do you... like me? Like- do you want to kiss...me?" This was humiliating, you felt like a teenager, like you were fifteen and talking to your crush. Well, you were talking to your crush but you weren't fifteen anymore.

Daryl softly nodded letting out a gruff hum of agreement and you almost melted at the sound.

He leaned in a little closer just close enough so the tip of his nose could just barely brush against yours, "Do ya' want me to kiss ya'?"

"Please." You whispered.

His lips quirk upwards for a split second, "Please what?"

Your lips brush against his desperately, "Kiss me."

Daryl surges forward to capture your lips with his, you let out a sound on impact. The kiss is needy and filled with a want you both had been holding in for what feels like forever. Daryl's hands find your hips and grips them tightly using the strength he's built over the years to move you into his lap. You straddle him and shift you hands to rake through his hair before clasping them to the side of his head.

When you finally part for air you let your forehead rest against his, both of you panting heavily while staring into each others eyes. The smile on your face is wide and you giggle at the flushness on his cheeks- you did that to him.

The man you sit on top of doesn't know why your laughing, "Wha'?"

Relocating your head to press into the crook of his neck your smile widens and the fingers on one of your hands tangle and play with his hair, "Nothin' just... happy."

Daryl's smile is one that your sure you'll remember in every life time.

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eupheme · 4 months

Text

— yours, all yours

cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 2.3k

tags: cooper pov, jealous and possessive!reader, sort-of alternate timeline (ft. a fo4 character), cooper is an ass, partners-with-benefits, mutual yearning, light angst, intentional pushing/teasing, soft thoughts, kissing, oral sex, praise kink, biting and marking, come swallowing

a/n: @aliisa-jones left a sweet comment on mine, all mine that got stuck in my head, so this is a “what-if” situation that I whipped up today, with reader being the jealous one (with Coop & Nora on the other side)!

Cooper can’t help the little bark of a laugh when he realizes - disbelief woven into the sharp sound that spills from him.

Goddamn. His little wastelander might just be jealous.

Cooper’s always been a perceptive man. Able to read people when it mattered - a real helping hand during his time in Hollywood.

Even more so now - gun drawn and ready before they’re even figuring their own conclusion. Twisting the situation to his benefit.

So he doesn’t know why it took him so damn long this time.

Two days to notice, after they picked up that Vaultie. Made from before - like he was - on her way to New Vegas.

A pinch of curiosity had plucked at him with her addition, but nothing more. Had been a rare indulgence to have someone understand all the shit he says, unable to help the occasional age-old idioms that have still lingered inside his mind.

But something about her had set you on edge. He’d thought you’d like her. Two peas in a pod, annoying the shit out of him with idle chatter during the long hours on the road.

You had bristled. Narrowed eyes and distrusting. Wondered if that’s the way he looked, half the time.

Wasn’t until you started to move, that he really noticed. Wandering closer than he’s used to. Finding reasons to pass by him, your ass pressing snug his front. Your pretty tits pushed up against his arm, leaning close to ask him something.

Pretty eyes blinking his way, hanging onto every word.

Riling him up.

Acting like a cat in heat. As if there were pink clouds of perfume drifting off you, spelling out “mine” as they settled over his clothes.

Funny, once he’s got it figured out.

Not sure how he missed it before.

The jealousy that oozes from you. His eyes going to yours each time that frown crosses your face.

Nora is a handsome woman. He’s got eyes, after all - yhey hadn’t rotted away like the rest of him. Can appreciate where she’s come from, deep down, though he’d never say it.

But he seen lots of good-looking people throughout his time walking this earth. And even back when he was just a man, that sort of thing never swayed him.

He’d buried old Cooper Howard some two hundred years ago. A mercy - tucking his corpse away deep in the labyrinth of his soul, as the Ghoul was reborn into rot and ruin.

A place he isn’t sure how to get to anymore, but sometimes there’s still bits of him that linger. Flowers sprouting up through concrete.

Loyal, perhaps, in spite of it all. When it suits him.

Besides, it's been a while since he’s tasted fruit so sweet. Biting down until you’re gushing against his tongue. Supposed he’s not looking to ruin a good thing.

But despite all that, he decides lets it all play out. Amused at the thought.

Seeing where it goes.

Let’s himself appear at-ease, when Nora slinks closer. A cocked brow bone at the low purr of her voice as they pick through an old house - clearing it for the night.

“You mod that yourself?” Her eyes drag slowly across him, down to the holster that rests at his hip, “Didn’t take you for a handyman, cowboy.”

“Sure did,” Cooper drawls - the shotgun slung across his back held loosely in his hand, as his eye scan the old dining room. “You pick up a few new things, out here.”

Had to, to survive. His clothes a patchwork of black thread, holding together ripped seams. Weapons had come next, not like he hadn’t had the time to learn.

“Can I see?”

She’s reaching for him, and he lets her. His eyes flicking towards you as she slips the gun from his holster, fingers curling around the grip.

“Modified MTs255,” He explains, as she turns it over in her hand. Purposeful in the way she moves - with the slow, admiring brush and stroke of fingers, “Changed it from a side-loader to a-"

“Top-break.” She muses with a nod, her shoulder brushing his as she flicks at the lever. A smirk, as she glances his way - her eyebrow lifting this time, “How’s she handle?”

There’s a soft lilt to her voice. Easy to pick up on - especially with the way she smiles, tongue caught between the white of her teeth.

“Oh, I’d say she handles just fine.” He lets the words turn sweet, smooth as honey as they leave his tongue.

You make a frustrated sound, then. A little whine in the back of your throat that he barely catches, before you’re turning sharply on your heel. Stomping off deeper into the house, and he can’t help the smirk that curls at the edges of his lips.

“See for yourself,” He's quick to excuses himself, leaving the gun in Nora's possession. Peeling away from the Vaultie, not sparing her a second glance. If she calls after him - he doesn’t hear it.

His steps purposely slow as he follows behind you. Letting you simmer.

You don’t notice as he slips in the doorway behind you. A head cocked in interest as you wrench open old cabinets. Breath heavy, a rough hiss between your teeth as your fingers clench into fists against the counter.

“That'd get you killed.” He comments, idly, “Runnin’ off like that.”

A little gasp as you whirl. Your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, and he'd not sure if that annoys him. Or if he knows you knew it was him by the low rasp of his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” You sniff, head quick to turn away. Eager to break eye contact, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

A huff of a laugh rumbles in his chest, “Now what makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You blink at him, his spurs jangling as he closes the space. Hands pressing flat on either side of your hips, a flash of teeth as he waits.

“She-,”You huff - finger pointing accusatorily, “You let her-“

Another little sound, as your frown deepens, “Her hands were all over you, and you didn’t even care!”

It’s spat out. A kitten showing her claws, sharp little teeth bared.

Cooper lets his hips press against yours. Your hands brace against his chest, torn between pushing him away and yanking him closer.

“Takes two to tango, sweetheart.” He coos, but you just frown - not understanding.

Something in his favor. An admission you won’t get. That flicker of tenderness lost in the air.

He wonders if you’d still be angry, if you knew how long he roamed the wasteland without knowing the touch of another. That it would take more than a gun-laced innuendo to truly turn his head.

“‘Sides,” Cooper husks - finger tucking beneath your chin, “What are you goin’ to do about it?”

Needling at you. A thumb against a bruise, pressing until it stings.

Your jaw grits. Eyes searching his, fingernails pricking worn leather. Before they’re sliding up - fitting against his shoulder, around the back of his neck, as you tug him to meet you.

Pressing your lips against his. It’s possessive - an arch to your body as it curves. Tits pressed to his chest as your tongue flicks against his lower lip.

A rough groan as he parts them, as you seek more. He swallows your whine as his hands roam. Across the fat of your hip, squeezing. Fitting the curve of your waist. Palming at your breast as your hips roll against his.

Needy, in the way you gasp. Little panting breath as his head tilts. As he takes control - pressing you into the counter as he licks into your mouth.

He’s stayed away, since you picked up this new stray. Put away a lot of people, or put them in the ground. Not about to let someone use you against him.

It had him pent-up, too. Desire red-hot in his belly. Stiffening with the way you rock against him - a part of him craving the touch.

Easy then, to catch your hand. To drag it down, across the leather of his bandoiler, the heavy buckle of his belt. Pressing your palm flush against the heavy curve of his cock.

Rocking into the cup of your fingers, grinfing into your touch.

“That’s all you, sweetie.” He rasps, and you moan.

Pulling back to look down, as you trace how he strains. The heel of your palm pressing against his clothed, flushed tip, as a low growl rumbles in his throat.

Unable to hide his own need, as his tongue loosens a command.

“Why don’t you show me why I keep you ‘round.”

It’s cruel to word it that way. He’s been trying to scare you away for weeks. Knowing deep down that you’re meant for better things than him. His words now are untrue, even - he knows that.

But you do too, and you don’t care - a determination in your eyes, as they reluctantly pull up to his. Still caught on the evidence of his desire.

Fingers already fitting around his buckle - tugging.

“She might hear.” You breathe, though you don’t slow. Not until you’ve popped the button. Tugged at the zipper, a hitch in your breath as you draw him out.

He had found you tucked around the corner of the kitchen, close to an old pantry. The window behind peeking out into a long backyard. Facing towards a broken-down swing set, the grass overgrown with thick brush and weeds.

The evening sun casting blue and pink shadows, spilling over your shoulders. The room set deep against the far wall of the house.

No doors to hide behind in a kitchen like that, and you’re right - the sound might just happen to travel.

He grins, all teeth.

“Ain’t that what you want, darlin’?”

You inhale a breath.

Desire swirling in your eyes as they meet his. Sinking onto your knees without a second thought, tucked between his hips and the counter.

A small kindness, in the way his coat would block you from view, if someone were to come looking. Keeping the vision of you just for himself.

He’s biting out a curse as you take him into your mouth. The tight, wet heat as he presses against your tongue, no warning before he’s nudging against your throat.

His own hands scrape against the counter - resisting the urge to buck his hips, not wanting to gag you.

“Easy, now.” Cooper husks, something for both of you.

You hum in response - knees spreading wider. A slow bob of your head as you lick against the underside of his cock.

Eyes lifting until they’re on his. Wide and wanting as your head tips - drawing back to show how he rests against your tongue, glossy with spit.

There’s a deep throb in his core. A rattling groan as you leave him completely, your fist wrapping around his cock. Steady in the way your jerk him from base to tip, as your tongue dips down to trace against his sack.

“Fuck.” It’s bitten out, “Gotta make you jealous more often, sweetheart.”

You hum at the way he sees you so clearly. A soft suck against drawn-tight skin, before your head is turning - teeth sinking into the flesh at his hipbone.

He grunts, as his fingers jerk - clamping down against your shirt. Biting into your skin as you suck on ruined skin, the redden shade of his skin blooming darker.

Bucking into the pump of your fist, as his little wastelander marks him up. Marking a hickey along the curve of the stomach, then the meat of his thigh.

He relishes the sting. Letting you explore, as long as you keep touching him. The pleasure-pain blending into bliss as you stroke him.

There’s a tightening deep in his core, a tremor to his thighs. You go easily when he thumbs at your jaw - a soft whine buzzing in you throat that he can feel all the way down his shaft, when your lips close around him.

It has his cock jerking against his tongue.

You didn’t have memories of dirty films, the lewd magazines from before. Not knowing what it means to exaggerate pleasure for his benefit.

The need etched across your face is real - a hand dropping to nudge against your core. He’ll make up for this later, when the house is bathed in darkness. Spread you out across that dining room table he spotted, tasting what he did to you. Make you come on his cock, driving his point home.

Leaving you sticky and clenching around nothing for now. Always eager to make you learn a lesson.

“You're takin’ me so fuckin’ well.” He growls, and you shiver with the praise, “So good for me, aren’t you?”

You hum around him, your answer in the bob of your head. The sound of your fist and mouth is lewd, slick and loud. His own grunts and panting breath layering in, as everything winds tight.

Unable to help the buck of his hips, now. How expertly you work him, with none of that slow exploration when you’re alone.

Eyes focused on his face, watching what you do it him. Looking for the way his head tips back, the part of his lips.

He’s close. Can feel the way everything tightens up, that mounting pressure in his belly.

“Fuck, honey.” Cooper lets the name slip free, “‘Bout to fuckin’ come. You gonna be a good girl and swallow?”

You moan again, as you work him. Letting his hands guide you to the pace he needs. Lips glossy with spit, all but drooling as he uses you.

His breath coming short and harsh, until his teeth click sharply together. A rough groan before he’s bucking into your mouth, spilling against your tongue.

Your fist works him through it. A hand cupping his sack, gently squeezing as he throbs. Those eyes fixed greedily on his, soaking in every expression that flickers across his face.

Always good for him, and you both know it.

“Show me,” He husks, and you do - a ragged gasp as you pull of him, lips parting. The hinge of your jaw opening to show the way his come pools against the dip of your tongue.

“Fuckin’ christ,” It’s enough to have him ready to go again, if he could. “Go on, then. Swallow for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s the gulp as you swallow. Eyes blown wide with need as he hauls you to your feet. Your hand still drifting back to tuck around him - putting him back together, as your head tips towards his.

“Yours.” You breathe - the words hoarse as they slide from your used throat, just as you close the gap between you.

Another kiss. Softer now, though just as possessive. He can taste himself on your tongue. Always liked the way the two of you meld together.

Like it’s meant to be.

And maybe, he thinks -

Maybe a little part of him is yours, too.

ahh thank you for reading! I always love a little cooper pov, it's such a fave to write!

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

eddie brock is the og loser boyfriend and i can’t stop thinking about venom just like completely bullying him when he’s in a relationship like his partner is like this drop dead gorgeous person and eddie wears the same sweaty jacket all the time and eats frozen tater tots haha

"There are crumbs on your shirt." Venom observes, and when Eddie nods with a noncommittal grunt, he continues, "And it is not a shirt. It is a sweatshirt. A sweaty sweatshirt, Eddie. And you wore it yesterday."

"That I did," Eddie crams another handful of chips into his mouth, salted and straight from the bag. His attention remains solely on the television in front of him, and Venom's goopy form shakes its head.

"Y/N is coming over later." He reminds the human, watching with disdain as Eddie chokes slightly on his mouthful because of the way he's slouched in his seat. He swallows regardless, and when he speaks, his voice is gruff from the irritation in his throat.

"Yeah, she'll be here in a few minutes," Eddie nods, "Hey, do you think they fake this show? The drama, and all."

Venom has no interest in whether the trashy reality show that Eddie is so enraptured by is fake or not. He cares that you'll be here any minute now, and Eddie looks like a corpse that's been rotting for a few days.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie moves to get up. Crumbs begin raining onto the carpet and he groans as his lazy joints ache, so Venom shoves him back into place with a strong tentacle and uses another to stretch and open the door for you.

You're clearly expecting a person on the other side, but you're quick to recognize the tentacle you're met with instead. It wraps greedily around your waist and you place your hand over its sticky form, grinning as you're barely able to shut the door behind you before Venom yanks you over to the couch.

"Hi, baby," Eddie greets, tipping his head onto the back of the sofa to grin upside-down at you, "How are you?"

"Good," You lean down to kiss him upside down, and Venom is appalled that you're willing to put your lips on Eddie's crumb-coated ones.

"Sour cream and onion?" You guess, and you're rewarded with the near-empty bag of them that Eddie had been demolishing.

You settle happily onto the couch by Eddie's side with the chips in your hand, and when Venom begins to let go of you you hold his tentacle in place. The symbiote watches you silently for a moment, observing your behavior and thinking a whole host of unsavory thoughts about humans and their disgusting tendencies.

"I do not understand," Venom interrupts your gushy sentiments with Eddie about how terrible the acting is on so-called 'reality' shows, "Eddie is disgusting."

The man's nose wrinkles and you let out a scoff of a laugh.

"Thank you, Venom. That's very kind of you. Did you forget you're made of slime?"

"Slime does not sweat. And I do not have crumbs stuck all over me."

"Venom, being in a relationship with someone means that you need to be comfortable with them. We don't have to dress up all the time, Y/N knows what I look like in pajamas and I've seen her hair unbrushed in the morning."

Venom, too, recalls the rather impressive tangled mess of hair that you sport after a night of deep sleep.

"You do not mind that he smells?" Venom turns to you, his milky-white eyes blinking with a squelch.

"He's smelled worse," You give a half-shrug, only one of your shoulders moving as you squirm closer to Eddie beneath the blanket he's draped over you.

"You're both too good to me," Eddie grins, batting his lashes sarcastically, "Careful not to flatter me too much, don't want my head to get too big to fit in my helmet."

Venom regards Eddie for a moment, then thinks of the motorcycle helmet the man breathes into every day. It's repulsive.

"Your head is already abnormally large," Venom observes, settling into Eddie's shoulder opposite from you, "I will keep insulting you so that it does not get bigger. You are repulsive."

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yandereunsolved · 4 months

Text

🐉 ✧ Yandere Aemond Targaryen ✧ 🐉(part 2)

With you, this has been Aemond's only safe place since you were hired when he was but a child, and so were you. He would see you following the other maids and workers around like a lost duckling, constantly tripping over yourself, and failing at the simplest tasks. You grew proficient over time, but that didn't stop the harassment that came from young Aegon and the others. He had to become blinded in one eye to truly see you.

He thought you foolish at first. He pitied your futile attempts to reject Aegon's advances. Your education was nonexistent, and your manners only the minimum. You had not the physical strength of the guard nor the cunning that every power-hungry noble possessed. You did have two things that made you worth his time: your curiosity and comfort.

You didn't gasp in horror after his horrific disfiguration. You didn't scold him for not being wise or mighty enough to win the battle of being ambushed. Chastising him was not within the rights of your station, but many below him still did. Perhaps that is why he was so surprised when you were the only maid who offered to change his bandages and report to the maesters on his healing.

As you got bolder in his care, you dared to lightly caress the scar with the pad of your thumb. He would never admit how embarrassed he felt that you had taken such a liking to him. You seemed so content with the fact that he was now damaged goods. What lady would want a man with such a deformity?

You even gave him a porcelain eye for his socket as a gift. It wasn't the best made, but it was the most you could afford. You spent half of your weekly wages on such a thing. Aemond could feel a fiery sensation rising in his gullet. His fingers caressing the porcelain and meekly thanking you before dismissing you back to your duties.

He never wore the gift, as it wasn't what he had truly hoped for. Even as a sapphire remained in his empty socket, he always kept that glass eye in a wooden box right next to his bedside. He sat up many nights with pathetic droplets of sadness rolling down his pale face while clutching the object. He couldn't be strong all alone, but your token of good faith helped him get through his darkest hours.

That is when his courtship of you truly began. It was subtle. He had grown into a young man, and you had grown to be a fine worker within the walls of the Red Keep. Many would be suspicious if he always asked for you to care for him and do your duties near his room instead of having to traverse all throughout the castle.

He would leave you small gifts, like how a dragon will offer dead beasts to its rider as a sign of affection. They would be flowers from the gardens, trinkets, and silk cloths. Small notes of words that are translated into High Valyrian. "'Avy Jorrāelan', it means I love you in High Valyrian. I am sure your lips are sweeter than any pastry the finest chefs could bake." The short notes became increasingly violent and lewd over time. "One day, I will kill every man who has touched you who is not me. I will ravage you atop their dead corpses, and you will see their blood mixing in with my spilled seed." You stopped reading them. So he switched to another tactic.

He had you carry his gear when he went to ride Vhagar. He introduced you to her, and she loved you just as he did. He could see it in her eyes. He's never seen the savage beast look so at peace. Vhagar went as far as to gently grab ahold of your clothing and tear at it. It caused you to become fearful and hide behind Aemond, but there was a certain mischief behind his dragon's actions.

"My prince, I fear your dragon dislikes me." You mutter so softly that his ears are barely able to pick the words up.

"I think she is very fond of you. If she hated you, then she would have eaten you already." There was an air of amusement present in his voice that you haven't ever heard before.

"Should I take comfort in that?" You inquired while a bit confused about this peculiar situation.

"You should."

"I shall, then. She is your dragon, and you know her best. You always end up being right about these things—I mean you are extremely intelligent. You are just always able to figure these things out. Your good looks and charm help to. I—" You felt you said too much and shut your mouth.

Aemond learned to tease you in such a way that would get you to spill these thoughts of yours. He did it so shamelessly. He made sure those bastards knew you were taken through his method. He almost kissed you just to prove that neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys would ever be able to lay a hand on you. He didn't have to worry about Aegon anymore. His drunk of a brother learned well not to trifle with you after he gave him a broken nose and a bloodied lip. If anyone dared upset you, especially those not his kin, well, they have particularly gruesome deaths.

All of this and you thought him mostly indifferent to you. None of the most twisted emotions ever rose to the surface when he was around you. He always waited until in private. He knew he had to keep you in his clutches. He couldn't scare you away quite yet.

"Dear?"

"Me?" You squeak in surprise.

Aemond tucks a dragon's breath flower behind your ear as you turn to face him. No words escape him. Only a contented smirk appears. Before you have an opportunity to question him, he walks off. How strange. You gently adjust the flower in your hair. It makes you oddly giddy.

"How cute." You murmur.

Aemond heard your words. He couldn't wait for the morrow. He will take you back to Vhagar and confess his love. He will offer you to become his spouse. His mother surely wouldn't be happy, but he would. And if the worst comes, he will burn down all of Westeros just to be with you.

#yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon #yandere hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #yandere #yandere drabble #yandere aesthetic board #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader #yandere aemond x reader #yandere x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

#halcyone answers #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you

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suukee · 5 months

Text

other half 彡 levi ackerman

» summary ⋆ levi doesn’t exactly notice it, but one of his love languages is physical touch. (how he acts when he’s in love)

» content ⋆ levi ackerman x reader. fluff, hurt/comfort. mentions character deaths. written with season four, special two in mind.

» word count ⋆ 1070

Levi doesn’t exactly notice it, but one of his love languages is physical touch.

That’s because, growing up, he lost everyone he treasured.

His mother passed away when he was nothing more than a living skeleton, too young to live on his own. The last memory he recalls is laying his head down on her lap and her feather-like touch. Her fingers were gentle as they ran through his hair. Sometimes it had grown so long to the point where she’d braid them.

The man who found Levi, rotting beside the corpse of his mother, raised him as though he was a caretaker, but not like a father. It’s vague in Levi’s older years, but he remembers the head pats and the hair ruffling. The man was overall careless and strong, but he had soft moments where he’d praise Levi. And just out of the blue, the mystery man abandoned him. Years later, when it was revealed that this man was his uncle all along, he had died in the next moment.

Then there was Furlan and Isabel, the only two people he had considered his family in his adult years Underground. Isabel was a girl with no personal space for the people she cared for. For as long as she could remember, she loved hugs. And while Levi was stiff and complaint about it, she’d do it again and again. Pats on the shoulder from Furlan were enough of a relief to know he was there. Yet, they soon left, devoured on their first expedition outside the walls.

Levi’s very first squad respected his space, unlike Isabel. Even so, they meant something to him. He’d only seen the aftermath of their lives. He doesn’t have much of a physical memory from them. He carries the weight of being unable to protect them as they always would for him.

Then came the commander—both of them. The people he grew to appreciate. He wouldn’t dare to admit out loud they had become his friends. The two strong leaders made a great sacrifice for the sake of humanity. It was heavy. Like the death of his squad, he added that weight to the list. He could feel the hands of Erwin and Hange on his shoulders urging him on.

They’re all gone. Bittersweet memories. Repeating nightmares taunt him just when he thinks he’s got it wrapped around his head.

Through such hardships, he’s gifted with you. The war hasn’t come to an end, not yet, but you’re the only person he knows who survived countless battles from the very beginning.

You have become the only person in the entire world to whom he will cry, vent, and lean toward when he needs to. Whenever he wants to.

His comfort is his best friend. His lover. His partner in crime. That’s always going to be you.

Anyone who catches him holding your hand or kissing your cheek may find it strange. He doesn’t want to be touched by anyone, let alone touch someone himself. He’s a damn intimidating man. One look is all he needs to drive people away. And while it took some time to get to the point where he could freely be himself, the thought that he doesn’t deserve you still gnaws at him.

You treat him like a living person, not as Humanities Strongest. You went through hell and back just to get to know him, to understand him—why he acts and feels the way he does. You’ve changed him into a better man, and you’ve accepted his flaws. Your devotion and love are so innocent and pure, he knows you’d do it all over again. Just for him.

He didn’t make it easy to break down his walls. His guard was exhaustingly high. He tried to push you away in case of the day he loses you, then it wouldn’t hurt so much. But as his calloused hands find their place on the soft skin of your cheeks, eyes shining of love, giggles echoing in his ears, he doesn’t look back. You’re the one he wants to protect. Lay his life down for. A reason to look ahead.

Sometimes, you’re too busy laughing to notice he smiles when you’re this close. But you know he’s content despite how rarely he smiles.

At meetings or meals, he’ll sit across from you. There are times when he rests the tip of his boot atop yours lightly. It’s just his way of keeping in contact with you. If he decides to sit next to you, he’ll be close enough that your knees press against his gently. It did take him some time to kiss you, but he was uneasy about public displays of affection. On his own, and with your patience, he comes to terms with holding your finger or keeping a grip around your waist whenever you’re out together.

He’s a different man in private. He holds you so close, hugging you tightly like you’ll disappear if he lets go. He loves it when you come to the office late at night, settling yourself on his lap as he completes his work—writing with one hand and holding you against him with the other (he complains someone will see and that you should be getting rest, but makes no effort to get you off). When exhaustion kicks in, Levi loves to rest his head on your shoulder, keeping a hand on your thigh and gently caressing the fabric of your pants or, even better, your skin. His body weight is all on you when he’s knocked out cuddling, not that you’ve ever complained about it. Not that you ever will.

Who would’ve guessed the stoic captain had such a soft side?

Nighttime is the worst. A swarm of nightmares disturb his rest. That’s when he becomes desperate for your touch. Your chest and your lap, that’s his new favorite pillow. Your fingers playing with his hair, his undercut, or rubbing his upper back boosts his melatonin. Your arms are the safest place in such an unforgiving world. You’re a calming piece of his life he doesn’t dare to lose.

He can’t.

Even though the war isn’t over, and there’s no time to spend together, it’s your presence that aids him for a while. Even if he can’t see with his eye properly, he relies on touch. Just your hand, and he’s good.

Who would he be without you? He doesn’t want to know.

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quizzicalwriter · 9 months

Note

Hi! Idk if you do headcanons but if you do can you do boyfriend headcanons for Dallas? It can be up to you to make it general things or just smut related things.

Dating Dallas HC’s

Despite what you may think, I don’t see Dallas being an overly possessive boyfriend. You two go about your business and that’s that, but the moment he catches someone flirting with you he’s bounding over and making sure everyone knows you’re his. Beyond that? He’s alright with PDA, but he’s not about to make out in front of his friends, that’s private stuff.

He’d let you wear his jacket, necklace, rings, everything. He loves seeing you in his clothing, and he’d certainly notice the moment you aren’t wearing one item that you usually do - and it’s not even for the reason you think, he’s just worried you’ll lose his stuff and he’ll have to find another one.

He has no problem remembering birthdays, anniversaries, all that jazz. He loves surprising you by remembering important dates for you. But the moment you ask him if he remembers someone you met last week he’s pulling a blank. He’ll remember eventually, but he sucks at remembering faces.

You ever need something but don’t have the money for it? Dallas does! Don’t ask where he got it, most of the time he doesn’t remember or doesn’t want you worrying about him - he doesn’t know which is worse and he ain’t about to find out.

On the topic of money, if you tried to pay him back he’d act personally offended and never accept the money. I’m talking full-on mouth dropping open, loud scoff, all of it. You’re his girl, why the hell are you trying to pay him back? Just give him a kiss or something.

Loves driving you places, and lets you control the music in reasonable amounts - meaning, you cannot play the same song over, and over. He’d let you get away with three replays max before he’s groaning and turning the radio off and tossing the mix out the window. He’d apologize afterward and buy you a new cassette.

I do not see him being a kind driver, the man has road rage and you’ve seen it. There have been multiple instances where you’ve ducked into the passenger seat and whisper-yelled at him to shut up - he never does.

The man is like a corpse when he sleeps. You want him to move over? Good luck. You’d have a better chance rolling over onto him to get sleep, he wouldn’t wake up either way unless you pushed him from the bed.

Speaking of sleep, if you’re ever cold and plaster your morgue-like hands against his back, he will shriek. His back will arch, his legs will shoot out, and he’ll throw every curse known to man your way as he moves away from your hands - your hands still end up warm.

His friends are his family and he takes their opinions seriously, I can see him genuinely fretting over their view of you if he cares enough for you. Hell, he’s got feelings for you, of course, he’s going to want his family to like you. They will, it’ll take a while to get used to their form of joking, but you’ll be at home with them and it’ll make Dallas smile.

On the subject of family, Dallas doesn’t mention his much. He might if you’re close enough, but you’re likely to get bits and pieces as time goes by until he’s sure you won’t leave either. When he finally tells you about his upbringing it hurts your heart, you’re both mentally spent by the end of it and you promise him to never mention it unless he does first. He appreciates you for it.

If you stay over at his place often enough he’ll try to make the place look more presentable. Mainly rearranging stuff that he hasn’t touched in months, maybe buying another set of bedsheets. You notice every time something changes in his room and whenever you mention it he’s happy to talk about it, even if he tries to play it off cool.

He watches you sleep, not so much in a creepy way, but it’s something he loves to do. If you talk or snore in your sleep he will imitate it in the morning. In the moment he finds it cute, but he’ll never admit it.

His version of helping you cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner is standing behind you with his chin on your shoulder, or leaning against the kitchen counter with a cigarette between his lips. The man can’t cook, maybe he could, but he likes watching you cook too much to try - that and the one time he tried to help he burnt the shit out of his hand.

If you smoke he’ll light your cigarettes or share his own, if you don’t he’ll appreciate you standing beside him while he smokes, but he ain’t gonna force you to be near him when he does - just don’t nag the man, he’s been smoking since he was a kid, I don’t think he could stop even if he wanted to.

Whenever he smokes he’ll blow the smoke to the side, always ensuring it doesn’t blow in your face. But, if the smoke follows you he’ll murmur some cliche line like “Smoke follows beauty.”

Any music he’s into he will show you in a heartbeat. He thrives on showing you things you haven’t seen yet, whether it’s movies at the drive-in he’s sneaking you into, or a cassette he snagged from a nearby store - either way, his eyes watch you for any reaction.

Definitely considers going on a walk or eating food in Buck’s T-Bird a date. You’ll have to specify what you want if you want anything different, otherwise he’s content with the routine. If you ask for something different he won’t take offense to it, but he might chide you for it.

Words aren’t his forte, actions are. He’ll try his best to be kind, but he’ll occasionally slip and might say something rude. If you can shoot back your own sarcastic quips it’ll make him swoon, he loves nothing more than someone who can fire back at him.

Likely won’t tell you that he loves you for YEARS. You can say it first, he’ll nod and likely kiss your cheek or forehead in return. You know what he means, but he’s not the type to say it until he feels absolutely certain about you. Dallas knows how he feels about someone rather quickly, but he’s wary when it comes to love. He wants to mean it, mean it in a way that scares him.

The first time he tells you he loves you will be when you’re asleep. He’ll continue doing that until one day when he randomly springs it on you. It’ll likely be around a cigarette, but you’ll be able to tell from his eyes how deeply he means it. Don’t expect him to say it often, but know that he always feels it.

A/N: This is so short, I’m so sorry. I’ve never done headcanons before, so I hope this was good! I think about Dallas’s character so much that I actually had a bit of fun with this! This is a late night post for me, but I finished it up and figured I’d post it for y’all anyways. Thank you all for the continued love and support you’ve shown me and my work!! I appreciate you all more than words could ever describe! <3

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hazelfoureyes · 6 months

Text

A Doe in Fall (part 2)

I have a terrible case of the big bad sads so enjoy part 2 earlier than I planned

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 2 Liar

You not-stalk Alastor for weeks but don’t find anything blackmail worthy to grab ahold of. But luckily (?) for you, a chance encounter pulls you deeper into his hobbies and therefore his scope of fascination. Most importantly, do murderers go on dates?

「Warnings/Promises: Smut, HumanAlastor x FemBurlesquerReader, Alastor eats pussy like beignets (MESSY), dancing, shoe stress, murder, dead body, food metaphors, stalking, masturbation, Tommy is a bad dude, allusion to coerced prostitution, praise kink?, public sex acts, stage name is a fucking pun GOTCHU BITCHES, Gluttony」

minors dni please

The nights you didn’t work were spent casually looking for Alastor. Not stalking, just …. pursuing.

You found over the course of several weeks what places he never attended, and a few that he did like clockwork. As much as you wanted to approach him, you knew you’d end up checkmated again. You just wanted to observe the man, surely you’d see something you could use against him, something tangible.

What was he doing? Knife carrying smooth talker who fingers ladies in the park? There was more to him than you anticipated. That addictive adrenaline rush was calling you to chase him. You’d catch him in the act of whatever men like him did, and—- well, you’d figure it out then. Was he a mugger, maybe? The knife would make sense. But he disposed of bodies so well, a month and no mention of a corpse anywhere. You didn’t want to even touch the thought bubbling up in the back of your skull. It was getting louder and louder, heavier than the other thoughts.

A repeat killer.

You decided, somewhat foolishly, if he was a killer it would be best to know that information. So you needed to continue even if the cards all read death. Right?

Right.

For all his efforts, he hadn’t actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.

Many nights you found yourself alone in wooded areas. Well, “alone”.

During your casual stalking you found him to be quite pretty, in a sense. He walked smoothly, always had pressed and tailored suits. Slender fingers, wide shoulders, small waist. Fingers.

Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His “Shhh.” You couldn’t replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.

If all else failed, no juicy blackmail available, maybe just endear yourself to him. Bed him. Get the conquest done and let him go on with his little crime spree or whatever it was he was doing when you weren’t watching. Because so far all you’ve seen is a man who loves to dance and enjoys whiskey.

After another show done, body sore, you did your tour of the theatre. Tommy was snapping his fingers at you from the bar, his attempt to tell you to come over. Every day he seemed to become more and more brutish.

“What can I do for ya?” You tried to keep a bounce in your step, arches aching.

“I want you to meet someone.” Tommy turned to a small man at the bar, hair thinning and combed forward. You guessed in his sixties. “Give Mr. Wilson a warm welcome. He’s one of your most generous benefactors.”

You nodded, smile slipping as you mind started to consider what was happening. You had heard some girls were taking dates, offering private shows, but you had been under the impression that was entirely of their own free will and desire. Had Tommy turned pimp? Your gaze flashed to Tommy, his stare cold, and then back to the man. “Well, thank you very much doll! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.” Tommy saw someone walk by and followed, leaving you with the older man.

“Your dance was something else, sweetheart.” You nodded, his hand coming to rest on your hip. “I bet those hips do more than dancing.”

Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, “Touch me again without my permission,” you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, “And the next time you see this tacky tie, you’ll be shitting it out.” You patted his chest. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

You pushed through the crowd and out of the front doors of the theatre. The air chillier tonight than past weeks. Looking around, you balled your fists. You wanted to hit something, break something.

Without any destination you tore off down the street, angrily huffing to yourself. You looked both ways to cross the intersection when you saw a familiar silhouette. A car honked, your hands coming up in apology as you finished crossing the street to follow Alastor.

Was your luck miraculous? Or malignant? You made it several blocks before a man stepped in front of you. You weren’t listening, trying to look past him to see where Smiles was headed.

“Will you fuck off?!” You pushed him out the way only to have him pull you back by the arm. Before you could let out your frustration, a stranger walked up to you both.

“Hands off, move along.” The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. “Miss you need to be careful out here. There’s been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home.”

Your mouth formed various shapes, no words fitting.

“Detective Brady.” He handed you a card.

I don’t want this.

“Sure, thanks.” You snatched it with two fingers and practically jogged away. No sign of him, no indication where Alastor went. Were there any forested areas? He often took strolls in shady parks but you couldn’t remember any nearby. Turning around you realized how far you’d wandered from the fanfare and lights. The area was dark and deserted, not just Alastor but no one was around anymore. You stashed the card in your bra and rushed past an alley, giving up and deciding to just go home, when your ears caught the sound of dragging fabric on pavement.

Ice. Your blood chilled. Taking a few steps backwards, you turned to look into the darkened side street. You saw nothing, but heard a familiar wet sound.

Would it matter? Death?

You lifted your heels, walking on the balls of your feet to not make any sound as you approached the black shadow blanketing the majority of the side street.

A glimpse of brown leather shoes peeked into the light, soon your eyes adjusted as you too entered the inky darkness.

“I don’t care for liars.” Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.

“Is there a problem?” His eyes scanned your face, his usual smile no longer so inviting but instead manic and wide. You don’t know what possessed you, the adrenaline was flowing again and drowning out your more sensible thoughts.

Your eyes were locked on his golden brown stare, “Only… if you’re quite attached to his wallet.”

He burst into laughter, wiping tears with the back of his bloodied glove. A small smear of blood was left behind on his cheek.

“I have no need for it.” He reached down and fished it out of the man’s pocket, “And neither does he!”

You caught it with both hands, “Well doesn’t that make me the lucky lady of the evening.”

“Don’t speak too soon. I’m quite cross with you.” He gestured at you with the knife, “We had a deal.”

In what could best be described as an out of body experience you watched yourself rush to his side and lift the man’s legs, “In the trunk?”

Alastor stared at you, teeth showing as his smile grew, “I’ve seen films less entertaining than you.” A stifled laugh as he lifted the man from under his arms and you both carried him to the car. You dropped the legs with a loud thud, Alastor gently setting the man down and opening the trunk.

A waxed canvas was lining the inside, “Clever.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open.

After he tossed the man, the knife, and the gloves into the back, you reached for his hand. “Your wife is going to be miffed. Blood is so difficult to get out of cotton.” You scratched at the bit of blood that had stained his cuff. “Spit works really well. But lemon juice and baking soda before any store bought cleaners will help.”

Alastor took his hand back, adjusting his sleeve to hide the red spot, “Oh she has much bigger issues to deal with.”

Your mind raced. A chauvinist? Abuser? A weight settled into your stomach; disappointment. “Is that so?”

Giggling, he leaned against the bumper, one leg crossing in front of the other, “Considering she doesn’t exist, she’s quite terrible at laundry. And I haven’t eaten a meal in years.” A giggle devolving into a full chest laugh.

A terrible joke, you smacked his chest, “Cruel! Unfunny!”

“Perhaps I should eat you?” He leaned close.

“I hear I’m quite sweet.” You smirked, heart pounding in your chest with such force you were rocking slightly with each pulse.

Alastor felt his blood pressure rising. He should kill you. Just to be safe. But—- oh, this was so fun. You hid any fear you were feeling perfectly. He could be forgiven to think he was staring into a mirror. If he met himself in an alley, well, he would feel quite safe. Perhaps you we’re of a similar inclination?

He watched your throat as you gulped. You licked your thumb and wiped at his cheek, “You always make a mess, hun.”

Alastor felt the world spin as you then dragged your blood stained thumb over your lips, red lipstick smearing with it. “Sweet eno-,” he swallowed your words, hand coming to your neck and pulling you into the kiss. No patience, his tongue swiped over your mouth and plunged in at the smallest parting.

Your mind was screaming, finally, yes.

His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the man’s blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt you’d call them.

No time. He pulled away, “Against the wall.”

You practically threw yourself into the bricks. Alastor pulled a gas tin from the trunk and began dousing the street. You frowned, body relaxing.

“You’re taking the food metaphor too far. Fire? Really?” You took a second to realize there was no odor.

A laugh in threes, “Water, dear.” You watched the blood thin and begin snaking down to the gutter. He set the can in the trunk and closed the hatch. After opening the drivers door he turned to you, “Do you trust me to drive you home?”

“Honestly, no.”

“That’s why I like you,” a wink. “Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow.” He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.

Alastor found himself singing a little louder as he drove home. A thrilling evening becoming somehow more exciting. He realized that always seemed to happen when you stumbled into his plans. Still annoyed you had followed him, his thoughts shifted to possibilities. A kindred spirit could make things easier. More fun. Safer. But who were you? Much like himself you wore a mask. He could see it clearly as it always began to slip in his presence.

He pulled his car behind his home, backed up against a large greenhouse. Still in the idling vehicle, his fingers came to his lips. What a peculiar creature you were. Killing the lights and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he considered what to do. The possibilities kept coming in waves. But he stopped himself, never one to live in fantasy. Helping toss a dead man into a car wasn’t the same as killing. Yes, you showed no outward concerns, but he couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn tail the second things got more intense.

He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didn’t afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car you’d not be disappointed in him now.

A deeper sigh. But you didn’t. Which was wise. He thought better of you for it. Opening his eyes and leaving the car, he went to the trunk to begin his work.

You couldn’t sleep. Not because of the dead man, you were getting used to that. It was the lack of information. Comfortable shoes? For what? He didn’t give you a time or place to meet.

Tomorrow was Sunday, you realized. Ah, the bar. That was the only place that would make sense.

Sundays were big nights for your theatre, but you weren’t needed unless a girl was sick. You simply weren’t at that level of fame for your little company and this was fine for you suddenly. You spent your Sunday pacing your small one room apartment and changing shoes.

What did Alastor have planned? With the little you knew about him it a could be a capital crime or a walk in the park. You genuinely couldn’t imagine and it was exciting. A normal man asking you—- was this a date? Was it presumptive to call it a date? You couldn’t quite see Alastor dating. You let the question go. Most men would take you for a movie and perhaps a chaste kiss at the door of a cab. With Alastor it could be literally anything. How do you dress for anything?

Your friend teased you, arriving early to her bar and chewing on your lip.

“So, either you suddenly wanna look nice for my dive, or you’re expecting someone.” She was wiping down the counter.

“I adore your customers, Betty.” You hopped from the seat, needing to reapply your lipstick.

Your singing voice was strained, nerves keeping you tense. Looking into the modest crowd you couldn’t find him. A cornflower yellow dress, a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t let that stop you. The collar a loose and folding slit from shoulder to shoulder, you were positively cute, he decided. Leaning at the bar he couldn’t see your face, but under the small lights you were glowing nonetheless. A little ball of pride rose in his gut, noticing you clearly had put more care into your appearance tonight than most Sundays.

Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.

When your set was done, you tried to be gracious as you left the piano’s side. Alastor watched you from his seat, letting your face light up once again when you recognized him. He gave a noticeable look to your shoes.

“Those will do.”

“Do what?”

“You,” he leaned against the bar, “owe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance.”

Maybe a date, you thought. You offered him your arm, “Lead the way.”

As you walked, arm in arm, you found yourself not needing to speak much. His arm was so solid in yours. You felt like everyone was looking, the handsome man and the pretty young thing. Did you two look sweet? Like the cleanest cut kids in the neighborhood? Did you look like the kind of people who sat in pews once a week and clasped hands over dinner?

Did you look like the sort to toss bodies in cars? No, decidedly not. And it made you feel powerful. What a perfect act. The feeling of looking nothing like what you were was akin to the addicting rush of your cat and mouse game with most men.

“Do you like those group dances? Like the Big Apple?” Alastor asked as he opened the doors for you.

“Not particularly…”

“Perfect, neither do I.” He laughed.

A small table in a small nook of a booth lining the small dance floor. You clinked your glasses together, no toast necessary, and watched the couples swing around the room. As the 20’s were fading from the rear view, you all hoped dance would be less stigmatized. But part of the fun was how scandalous it was.

“How was your day? Made it home safe and sound?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned into the plush booth seat.

Oh, this was going to be… normal? You choked a little on your drink, surprised. “Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I sat in my apartment changing my shoes repeatedly.”

Alastor’s laugh was loud and sharp, but you didn’t find it obnoxious. You liked it.

“That wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to risk you being unable to dance.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip with your gaze on the dancers, “Ya know how to avoid that? Tell me to wear shoes for dancing.”

A snicker, “Perhaps I’m not quite as skilled with talking to women as I like to think.”

“Then talk to me like a man.” Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastor’s eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.

“Hmm, I don’t talk much to men.” He thought, “Not for long conversations, that is.” Your mind conjured up the two dead men. “I never asked your name. Is it too late now?”

“You saw it on the posters. Autumn.”

Alastor smirked, “Autumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name.”

Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, “It’s a good one though, you have to admit.” His brow cocked, not understanding. “Hind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?” Your own brows rose suggestively.

Alastor hit the table, “A deer pun?! Oh darling, we’re going to be fast friends.” He offered you his glass for another wordless toast.

“I thought it was pretty funny, for a burlesque dancer no less. A horny little deer prancing on stage. Better than Allie Way and Frosti Winters.” You grinned into the glass, proud of yourself.

You could see Alastor physically relax beside you, dancers moving about in front of you both.

“And yours? Your day, that is.”

He hummed, “I slept late, stayed up late. Took care of our newly penniless friend.”

You wanted to ask more, what did you do with him? Can I come next time? Is there a pool of gators somewhere eating well today?

He leaned in to you, “May I have this dance?”

Your smile was uncontained, all desire to control your outward appearance was lost in the fun of dancing with your newest partner. Was there anyone else in the room with you anymore? Who knows. The music kept playing and that was all you needed.

Alastor was a marvelous dancer, you noticed other women glancing his way, eye lashes fluttering but ignored as he focused on the movements. This was how you managed to not-stalk him so well, he was completely unaware of the interested gazes of those around him.

While he didn’t notice the individual stares, Alastor could feel the attention on him and it made his chest puff. He loved it, how he could feed an image to the masses and be seen as he saw fit. It was something you both had in common, even if neither of you had strong enough egos to vocalize it yet.

When the music wound down, a slow number for the lovers, you hadn’t expected Alastor to stay on the dance floor. A slow dance, one arm on your hip, hand in hand.

Now close, you felt you could speak without risk of others eavesdropping.

“Why did you invite me out? I have a distinct memory of you saying you had very little affection or time.” You were shorter than him, your shoes not very tall, so you had to speak up and at his neck.

“A man who says he has no time is a man unwilling to make any.” Alastor led you in a small sway along the floor.

“Oh so you just didn’t see me worth the effort before.” You said it half teasingly, half seriously.

He looked down now, eyes meeting yours again, “That was before I knew how entertaining you could be.”

You pouted, entertaining was not the word you wanted to hear. Enthralling, Enchanting, Endearing.

“There’s that face again. What ever could it mean.” Alastor’s head cocked to the side.

“I’m entertaining at work. You don’t need to take me out to enjoy my entertainment value.”

He laughed again, making you glare, “Darling, being entertaining is high praise. And you’re not entertaining at work. You’re bewitching.” He pulled you a little closer, “The way you make those men act a fool. Truly a sight. You wield a power many women just dabble in.”

You shimmied a little against his chest, “Well if we’re giving out compliments…” you remembered the satisfying hum from last night, “The canvas was clever, but the water in the cans was brilliant. Nothing suspicious about a little petrol in the trunk.”

His grin widened. “And your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable.” The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, “I can appreciate the way you carry yourself.” Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, “I wish I could see more.”

Your chest pressed against his, trapping your hand. “Ooh, you are observant, little one. Why did you agree to come out? Still chasing my,” his hips pressed against yours, hand sliding down slightly to hold you close, “affection?”

Fingers playing with his buttons, “Hmm, debilitating fascination and your affection. Do you have any to spare?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

Your mouths were on each other before the bathroom door closed behind you. Alastor locking it without looking, one hand staying on your neck. The small room was just a single toilet and a bathroom cabinet with a built in sink. Little tulip shaped light sconces above the mirror made the room brighter than the dance hall. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, him humming in return. His body was pressing yours against the wall, despite his thin frame he had a power to him. Hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your hips tried to roll against his anyway.

“Is it praise? I’ll sing your song until I’m blue in the face, until my lungs give out just tell me what you need.” You whined.

His head shook softly, thumb pulling down on your chin to open your mouth. “It isn’t that simple. It’s not something you can say.”

His tongue swiped over your own, neither in your mouths. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and fragrant. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his body against yours. You were vibrating; the way you always did when he was near you.

Kissing, tongues, body presses. You were tangled together.

“This isn't… doing anything?” You asked, his lips coming to your neck. Sighing, your hand gripped his hair weakly. “That feels good.”

He shook his head into your skin, “I don’t see any desire to carry it further. But I enjoy it for what it is. And you seem to enjoy it. Is that enough for you?”

You wanted to scream, to argue, but as he pulled away and you stared up into his sharp honey brown eyes, you felt helpless to deny him anything. Did you need sex? Really? It’d been three months now without it and you were only recently clawing at the sheets with thoughts of Alastor. Being in his mouth was better than being strangers. Sliding fingers back into his hair and drawing him closer, your leg came up and hooked on his hip.

Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastor’s eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “I’m happy to do many things for you… just not exactly what you’re asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom.”

His hand snaked up your chest and lightly held your neck, you fought back a moan.

“Well, if it’s good enough for your wife….”

He laughed into your skin, other hand slipping down the front of your dress and cupping your crotch. “I’ve heard no complaints.” The way he anchored you, arms twisted and firm around such vital parts of you, made your whole body relax into his arms. A parachute safely secured around you as you fell. Mouth to your ear, hot and warm breath, “Turn around.”

Head spinning, you turned in his arms. Alastor lifted you up and onto the countertop of the sink, lips crashing back into yours.

The sound of music shook the thin walls of the room, heart erratic in your chest. His fingers slid up both thighs slowly, a familiar feeling for you now. His hands your favorite dance partner.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he dropped to his knees, your legs closing in embarrassment before he slid his hands between them.

“Did you ask for more affection, dear?” He pushed your dress up around your waist, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side. You wanted to rip them off, damning your garters. You felt feverish as you watched him bury his face into your pussy. Your wetness was evident by how easily he glided through your folds. One hand gripped the counter, the other combing through his chestnut hair. Alastor kept his eyes on you, reading your face as he moved his tongue over your heat.

Mind racing for something clever to say, you opened your mouth but just gasped out his name as he sucked gently at your clit. One of your short heeled shoes you stressed over fell off as your knees came up around his head.

You were confident you made the right answer. With the music thumping along you didn’t feel any need to keep yourself quiet.

Your breathy moans and little hip rolls into his mouth made Alastor smile against your skin. He had learned many ways to keep people satiated.

With a struggle, you opened your legs again allowing his tongue to drop down and into you. Nose rutting against your sensitive clit with every movement of his tongue in and out.

A pounding on the door made you jump.

“People are waiting!” Someone yelled.

Alastor pushed his tongue deeper, wriggling up and down against your twitching walls. Your head fell forward, “Alastor-,” you choked.

He buried his nose into your muff, eyes closing.

The door knob rattled, “Hello!”

“Alastor.”

So warm. Your body was so warm on his face. Your smell was making him feel feral. Gluttony. The way you were twitching and heaving under his tongue, groaning his name. Had he ever felt so powerful while on his knees? Had he ever enjoyed someone else’s body in such a bloodless way? No. Decidedly not.

“We’re gonna get the key!” The man at the door said.

“Okay, okay, affection received.” You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. “Don’t need to end the night in a paddy wagon.”

Alastor’s tongue was still out, eyes glossy as he looked up at you.

For the briefest second you considered wrapping your thighs back around his head and waiting for the key.

You hopped off, grabbing your shoe and leaning to get it back on. Crouching down you kissed Alastor’s nose and wiped his chin clean with your handkerchief before pushing it into his shirt pocket. “Up, up!” Hand in hand you barreled out of the door before the staff could see you and rushed to the furthest corner of the hall.

When you stopped and looked back you saw a staff member looking around annoyed, a man putting his hands up and entering the bathroom with a huff.

Before you could say anything, compliment or scolding, a woman was in front of Alastor. Your hand slid from his naturally.

“I am so sorry. Are you the host of that jazz show?” The woman had her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the handle of her purse, “Sorry if you’re not! You just look like the description, tall… handsome… cute glasses.”

You turned around, partly acting like you didn’t know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didn’t want to create hassle for either of you. Alastor laughed, “The very same! Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your back turned you couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she made a barely audible squeak.

While you were eavesdropping, a man offered you his arm. Your hand slipped to Alastor’s back, giving him a touch as you slid into the strangers arms for a dance.

He turned around to see you hit the floor and smiled, returning to the fan before him. After a few more compliments about his voice and his appearance, the woman shrunk a little, “Are you free tonight? I don’t have an escort home…”

A hum, soft smile, “Ah, I would love to see a fan safely home. But, alas, I am here with someone.”

What an easy excuse. It was nice to not need to lie.

“I see…. Oh, uh, your glasses… here, they’re a little smudged,” she offered him her handkerchief but he declined, pulling yours from his pocket.

“Danced too hard?” She chuckled, trying to elongate the conversation.

Alastor hummed, fogging the glasses before wiping them clear. “Eating, actually.”

“Oh you’re a messy eater, huh?”

“So I’ve been told.” He folded the square into a triangle and returned it to his pocket.

“What a… delicate handkerchief.” She looked at the soft yellow fabric and saw your yellow dress twirling behind him. “Ah. Well….It was a pleasure to meet you.” The woman sheepishly excused herself, letting him watch you dance around the floor with the stranger.

He’d never so explicitly told anyone his proclivities as he had done with you. Growing up he learned quickly his interests misaligned with other young men, but he didn’t really understand it well enough until he entered his early 20s and had to learn skills his peers didn’t. A man can only turn down so many offers for sex before people begin to question him. Certain rumors could be downright dangerous.

Your eyes kept returning to him, your smile meeting you eyes as you twirled.

While he had bed a number of partners, it was more often than not the result of physical reactions and what felt like necessity. The few times he genuinely felt he could enjoy in indulging in carnal pleasures he found himself utterly alone. He enjoyed dating, necking, kissing, but he could only keep some people so happy for so long. Quite a few women assumed marriage would solve the issue, and pushed him. Which made the inevitable break up easier.

His reputation was that of a rake now. The popular host who rarely dates but often canoodles.

He laughed to himself, if rumors spread of his recent antics with you he’d be practically blacklisted from certain clubs. Alastor watched you graciously leave your dance partner and hop up to him. If he were any other man, you’d throw your arms around him and make him swoon for you. But he was Alastor. Your confusingly respectful killer. So you stopped yourself, instead offering him a smile.

“I wasn’t aware you were a radio host.”

“You never did ask my job.” You both walked back to the table where his jacket was lying in the booth seat.

“Honestly did not care. Which is unusual for me. Normally my first question to men is what they do for work.” You tried to avoid looking at the bathroom before settling back into your seat beside him.

He lifted his hand and gestured for another round, “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“Oh definitely flattered. There were much more interesting aspects to you.” There was a little space between you, a foot or so of emptiness.

You scooted closer, Alastor glancing to you before shifting his legs and closing the last few inches of distance. Thigh touching thigh, you sat silently while your drinks were poured and brought to your table.

“To sinning,” you offered a real toast, Alastor laughing his signature laugh and raising his glass.

“To sinning!”

His hand came to rest on yours, both settled on your lap under the table. Your cheeks were hurting, desperately trying to keep your smile looking demure and not stupid-school-girl-in-love. His fingers folded into yours, and you entirely lost the plot, face melting into a lovesick grin.

Alastor leaned into you, “Are you alright? Liquor already gone to your head?”

You squeezed his hand, “Different kind of intoxication, doll.”

The evening was, in a word, divine. You danced with reckless abandon and enjoyed various degrees of affection. You were surprised to see Alastor so open, you had pegged him as less wanting to draw attention to himself. But no, he clearly relished in making heads turn.

He offered you a ride, and this time you took it. You didn’t live far, you just wanted a little more time. When he stopped the car, you jokingly turned around and looked into the trunk.

“We’re very alone.” You mused. He hummed an agreement, getting out of the car and opening your door. “Wow and a gentleman.”

“A testament to my mother. If you’re comfortable, give me a wave from the window when you get in.” He closed your door behind you.

“I don’t mind if you know where I live, you’ll have easier opportunities to kill me, I’m sure of it.” Placing two hands on his chest, you leaned up, “Is a good night kiss too forward?”

Alastor stifled a laugh, “Quite! My image of you is shattered.” before leaning down to meet your lips.

When in the apartment you turned on a light and went straight to the window. Leaning against his car with both hands in his pockets, Alastor was smiling up at you. With a wave from you, he got back into his car and left.

To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. Clouds couldn’t carry the weight of your joy. You’d fall to the ground like lead, regardless of the cloud classification. And with that feeling you went to bed smiling, unaware of the dark catalyst barreling towards you.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

ADIF @multifandomfanatic02 ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #fanfiction #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin

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