#i spent too long on this but i missed drawing hunter

[letshareapapou]

Crosshair helping to save Pabu. He's not used to being on the good side of the reception just yet.

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, slight language

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

[1] [2] [3]

A quick glance at the clock on the wall made you inwardly groan–how could it only be 11:23 in the morning? Work days were known to drag on, but this was overkill. You figured it might have something to do with the fact that you were just hours away from seeing Dean again. It had taken you far too long to fall asleep the night before; you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss.

The way his lips felt against yours…the way it made you feel inside…

The buzz from your cell phone distracted you and shook you from your thoughts.

Dean Hey, Atlanta.

You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the nickname. Another buzz caught you off guard.

Dean Or should I say, Hotlanta?

The text made you laugh out loud, which would have been fine had you been alone somewhere. Instead, colleagues that you hardly knew in this new office all turned to look at you.

“Sorry about that,” you said softly as you excused yourself from the cubicle you had borrowed. You wandered to the hallway and stood there as you typed back a response.

Hi, Dean…you’re ridiculous, but that still made me laugh anyway.

You nibbled on a pesky hangnail that had formed on your thumb as you waited for his text back.

Dean I do what I can. You still up for dinner tonight?

You hurriedly typed back before you hit ‘send’ and waited for his response.

100% yes! I can leave here at 4, but I’m driving to you this time. Just send me the address and I’ll meet you there. Besides, Salina isn’t really a lively city…

It didn’t take long for your phone to vibrate against the palm of your hand. 

Dean Just wait til you see Lebanon…

Dean had sent you the name to his favorite burger joint just outside of Lebanon. As you drove through the small Kansas towns, you felt the flutter in your stomach all over again. You really couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited to spend time with someone new. It was overwhelming, almost. Before you arrived, you decided to make a pit stop and pick up a cherry pie—Dean had mentioned pie was his favorite dessert. 

Just before 7pm, you pulled into the parking lot for Jiffy Burger. It reminded you of something out of the 50s; a diner, almost. It was cute, and definitely something you could appreciate. In the dating world, not that you spent a lot of time in it due to your focus on your career, there always seemed to be this draw to fancy restaurants where you never knew what fork to use. 

Thankfully, it seemed like Dean wasn’t interested in that kind of thing. Especially since he referred to the side salad you almost ordered in Atlanta as “rabbit food”. 

As soon as you parked, you spotted the Impala. You gathered your purse and the pie you had brought, and headed inside. 

A smile stretched across Dean’s face as soon as he saw you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled from your face down your chest to your legs. Heat pooled in your chest and cheeks as you suddenly felt slightly self conscious under his gaze. With your free hand, you tugged at the hem of your black blazer, but managed a smile back at him as you approached the table. 

“Hey,” you breathed as you finally reached him.

“Hey, yourself,” he smirked. He stood and with one hand, he reached behind you and pulled you closer to him. It felt exactly like you would imagine a puzzle piece would as it melded with the other. “What’s this?” His question pulled you out of your thoughts. 

You glanced down at the white grocery bag in your hand. “Oh!” You set it down on the table and opened it up to reveal the pastry you had purchased at the nearest bakery. “I know you said how much you love pie…” you gently held it up in the foil container. “I wasn’t sure which flavor you liked best, but I felt like I couldn’t go wrong with cherry.” 

He seemed truly surprised. “Damn, woman,” he breathed as his eyes grazed over the dessert. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” His words were so genuine, and he sealed it by leaning down and giving you a gentle kiss that only made you want more. 

“You’re welcome,” beaming, you felt accomplished as Dean pulled back the metal diner chair for you to sit. “This place is so cute!” You glanced around at the neon lights on the wall, red and white checkered designs and servers dressed like they had stepped out of the 50s. 

“They have the best burgers I’ve ever had,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “And trust me, I’ve tried ‘em all.” As he settled back in his chair, his eyes found the plastic grocery bag again. “I seriously can’t believe you brought me pie.”

“It can’t be that hard to believe,” you emphasized as you watched him. “I’m sure I’m not the first girl to bring you a pie…” you trailed off as you watched him contemplate. 

After a pause, “Nah, can’t say that’s happened before.”

It was a surprise to you; surely, you thought, Dean was a ladies’ man. He had all the markings of one, anyway: the leather jacket, woodsy vibe, muscle car… 

“You’re kidding,” you couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice. 

Dean chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart. You are definitely the first.”

His words were gentle, but true—you could tell. A small tug pulled at the corners of your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised,” you said carefully as the waitress approached your table.

“Hi there, my name’s Alice. What can I get ya, doll?” She smiled at you with a grin that reminded you of how an aunt or grandmother might. 

“I’ll have water, please. I’ll just take a minute to look over the menu,” you smiled back. 

She nodded and turned to Dean. “You still doing alright, love? Need a refill or anything?” While her tone had been pleasant and kind with you, it really softened when she addressed Dean. It made you smirk. It only validated further that he was certainly a ladies’ man. 

“Nah, I’m alright, Alice,” he smiled back. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You could’ve sworn you saw Alice swoon, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. “How was work today?” Dean asked as he turned his attention back to you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, the smile completely gone from your face. “Same shit, different day, I guess.” You mumbled. Dean seemed interested so you continued. “I just landed a new project. It’s a new client, so there are a lot of growing pains.” You explained. “But it could always be worse, right?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said as he took a drink of his soda. “The more you talk about your job, the more miserable it sounds.” 

“Doing what I love doesn’t pay the bills, Dean,” you sighed but found a small smile again. “We can’t all be traveling exterminators.” You winked. 

Dean chuckled with a look down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, but then back to you. “Well, what is it that you love?” The way his eyes stared back into yours made your breath get caught in your throat. It was as if he wanted to see you—who you were, not just at face value, but deeper than that. 

You took a moment to gather yourself before you continued. “I love writing. I always have. I tried applying it to a career, actually,” your mind wandered for a moment as you remembered the girl you used to be all those years ago. Your gaze found Dean’s once more. He noted the slight sadness that had appeared there. “It just didn’t work out.”

Alice had returned with your water now, and you heard her voice ask if you were ready to order. 

“Go ahead,” you smiled at Dean. “I won’t take long.” You quickly spanned the menu as Dean ordered some burger meal in the background. 

After he was done, Alice turned to you. You ordered a bacon burger and tater tots. Alice smiled at you both. 

“I’ll get that out in no time,” she said. “You two need anything else?” You both shook your heads ‘no’. 

“I think that’ll do it, thanks, Alice,” a smile pulled at Dean’s lips once more. 

You noticed the way Alice’s red manicured fingers touched Dean’s shoulder. “You just let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all…” she trailed off with a wink. 

You pressed your lips together to contain the laugh that threatened to bubble up at how blatantly she was flirting with Dean. He didn’t seem to notice, or at least, didn’t bring any attention to it.

Once she had walked away, you noticed Dean’s gaze had returned to you. You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before you spoke again.

“So, what about you? I’m genuinely curious about this traveling exterminator business you’ve got going on,” the words felt a little silly as they came from your lips, but you were being honest. Ever since Dean had mentioned it, you were curious. Dean chuckled softly as he broke eye contact. He ran his palms down the thighs of his jeans before he looked back up. You weren’t sure, but you would have thought he looked nervous, which seemed odd to you. “Seriously, how do you love being an exterminator? And why is it the ‘family business’?” You used your fingers to air-quote the way he had referenced it before.

Dean shrugged slightly as it was his turn to take a gulp of his water. “Well,” he started slowly. “My, uh, my mom died when I was really young. I was four and my brother, Sammy, was six months old.” He explained. That was something you hadn’t been expecting and your eyes widened. You had somewhat assumed Dean’s parents may be deceased or out of the picture from the way he spoke of it just being him and his brother when you were in Atlanta. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you knew to say. Dean’s forearms rested on the table now as he spoke. On instinct, you reached across and placed your hand just over his. “That’s awful. How did she…?” You trailed off, unsure if that was a question you should even ask or if he would be comfortable talking about it. 

“There was a house fire,” he explained softly. His eyes looked down at his lap. “But, uh, after that my dad kinda had a hard time.” Understandable, you thought to yourself but kept quiet to let him continue. “We ended up on the road a lot. My dad met up with my, uh, my Uncle Bobby,” he seemed to hesitate, but you still kept silent to allow him to work through what he needed or wanted to say. “They started up this traveling exterminator business. They’d pick up jobs to help people out. My dad just didn’t want to stay in one place too long, so we moved around a lot.”

It still seemed wild and wasn’t anything you were familiar with, but now understanding the loss of his mom made it easier to absorb. 

“I can’t imagine,” you shook your head as you looked down to where your hand still covered his. You pulled it back gently. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, Dean.” 

“Ah, it’s alright,” Dean cleared his throat and it felt like he had almost pulled himself out of his feelings as he sat back in his chair. A smaller smile crossed his face. “We’ve all got stuff. We just gotta go through it, I guess.”

While you appreciated his ability to pull through it, you knew there were probably some underlying feelings there. Your mind wandered back for a moment and pulled out something he had said in the hotel in Atlanta to you: he’s terrified of being afraid.

It started to make sense. He was afraid of being afraid: at four, he lost his mother in a horrible tragedy. And by the sounds of it, he may have lost his father because he didn’t know how to be a parent in the face of tragedy. When he told you it was just him and his brother, he had meant it. Who wouldn’t be afraid of being afraid after living through something like that? 

“Here you are,” Alice reappeared with a sing-songy tune as she placed your burgers down in front of you. 

“Looks great,” Dean smiled down at his plate. You felt a twinge of sadness for him and all that he had been through, but you pushed it aside just as he did. 

“It really does, thank you,” you smiled back at Alice. But her eyes weren’t on you, they were all over Dean. 

“My pleasure, hun,” she practically swooned. “And I mean it, you let me know if you need anything else.” How many times has she said that now? You matched Dean’s smile. 

“Thanks,” Dean said as she nodded and turned to walk away with a long glance over her shoulder. 

It took everything in you to contain the laugh that threatened to emerge, the thoughts of your previous conversation fading. Alice walked back to the kitchen and Dean looked at you with a clear “what?” look plastered on his face. 

“Oh, nothing,” you smirked before you took a sip of your water. “It’s just that I bet you could get whatever you wanted with a charm like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean rolled his eyes, but still smiled, as he shrugged it off. 

“I’m serious. All it takes is a little bat of those lashes and she’s putty in your hands,” you teased. 

Dean leaned forward with his forearms flat on the table, his hands clasped in front of him. His face was close again—it reminded you of the Longhorn in Atlanta when he was so close, you felt like you could count the freckles that dotted his face. “And what about you, sweetheart? You turn to putty, too?” The playful grin that tugged across his lips made your stomach flutter. 

You leaned back a bit and took another drink from your water—it was for two reasons, really. It gave you a minute to gather your words, but it also cooled you off from the flame that burned so obviously in front of you. 

“Oh, no,” you quipped, as you attempted to seem unphased. The flirtatious notes from your tone came through, and Dean picked them up–the way his lips crept up in a small smile gave him away. “I’m immune.” A shrug raised your shoulders but you couldn’t help the pull of your lips as you caught the way Dean’s eyes glinted back at you. 

“We might just have to test that theory,” his comment made you slightly inhale the bite of your burger you had just consumed. Thankfully, your sputtering only lasted a second, but the gig was up and your cover had been blown. The heat that rose in your cheeks gave away that your stoic demeanor was just a ruse, and Dean was completely aware. 

There was something about the way his lips still curved upward, but his eyes bore into you–they were dark, but in a way that felt almost like you were caught in an electrical storm; the little hairs at the back of your neck stood to attention and goosebumps bubbled over your skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dean?” Your voice was low now, your eyes trained on his. As flustered as he had gotten you just a moment before, you forced yourself to stay strong as you stared straight back at him without even a blink. 

Without missing a beat, the muscle in his jaw clenched as he bit down with his teeth. The familiar upward curve up his lip made the dimple in his cheek pop as his eyes moved between your eyes and your lips. “Is it working?”

And just like that, you felt like putty in the man’s damn hands.

A/N: Well, hellllllo, Tumblr world! I know, it has been far too long. Things in my life are still hectic, BUT I'm back! I have missed all my reader friends, writer friends and writing in general.

I can't promise double updates each week (but I will when I can). Otherwise, new chapters will be posted on Thursdays moving forward.

I hope you all are well, and I hope you enjoy chapter 4!

PREVIEW OF THE NEXT CHAPTER:

You had never consumed (nor had you seen someone consume) a burger so quickly before in your life. It was a good burger, but that wasn’t what you could focus on.

When Alice came back to the table to check out–ahem, on–you (but mostly Dean), his gaze didn’t even move from yours. 

“We’ll take the check now, Alice,” he said carefully as he watched you. The way his eyes studied you made you feel naked. It was like nothing else existed in the world but you. Heat climbed your chest in blotchy patches until they formed puzzle pieces on your neck, your cheeks. The way your heart pounded against your sternum felt so loud, you could hear each beat in your ears. This man was doing something to you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in too long.

“Here you go, sugar,” Alice gingerly placed the bill in the middle of the table. She watched Dean intently, certainly hoping for maybe one more look into those beautiful green eyes. He glanced quickly with a smile as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He tossed enough cash to cover the meal and the tip on the table, then back to you.

“Thanks, Alice,” he said, without missing another beat. He stood and held his hand out for you to take. “You wanna get outta here?”

Words seemed to fail you for a second, so you just nodded very quickly. Before he could pull you towards the door, he grabbed the grocery bag with the cherry pie you had brought.

“Oh, you forgot to eat your pie,” you murmured as you followed him through the diner.

“I was thinking we might have a different dessert tonight,” he paused at the door as his eyes looked over you once more. You realized he was asking if that’s what you wanted, too. Yet again, all you could do was nod.

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[vodika-vibes]

Can you write a Crosshair x reader and him with his shaky hands like we saw in season 3 and maybe reader comforting him...

For The Love Of A Bounty Hunter

Summary: Crosshair goes missing while dealing with your family. You have opinions about it.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Bounty Hunter Reader

Word Count: 1919

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I decided to make this story a sequel to one of my Event Fics, I'll add the link so people can find it easily. Also, there are no spoilers here, because I haven't watched TBB at all. ^-^

For The Love Of A Sniper - Part 1 of this Mini Series

You stare, blankly, at the calendar on the datapad in front of you as you draw another red X over another day.

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks since Crosshair went to deal with the PI who was looking into you on behalf of your family. Three weeks since he vanished.

You carefully set the datapad down on the table and release a shaky breath. Carefully shoving the burning rage down, for now.

Crosshair would sooner cut his own hands off than betray you. You know this. You know him. He would never tell your parents where you are. And, the fact that they haven’t shown up at your ship, is proof enough that Crosshair didn’t tell them anything.

The bigger question is, is Crosshair still alive.

Stars, you hope so. You’re not sure the galaxy will survive your rage if he isn’t. You’re not sure you’ll survive your rage if he isn’t.

You jerked out of your thoughts when your holo chimes. 

For a moment you consider ignoring it, you’re not in the mood for chatting. But, in the end, you cross the room and hit the button to answer the holo, “I’m not accepting any jobs at the moment.” You say bluntly.

“It is me.” Tech’s image flickers to life above the holo, “I have the information you asked for.”

You blink, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No harm done, I know that you are stressed.” He looks down at his datapad, “I am sending you the information I have.”

You pick your datapad back up as it chimes with the information he sent you. “Are you sure this is accurate?” You ask, as you see the information, “Last I heard the people who took him are wealthy.”

Tech sniffs, “Very sure. According to what I have found, they used to be wealthy. But then spent most of their fortune looking for their missing child.” He pauses, “That would be you, I am guessing.”

“Right in one, Tech.” You reply with a grimace.

“I am sure you had your reasons.” Tech says after a moment, “If Crosshair is anywhere, it is there.”

You scan the image that Tech sent you. Figures, it would be your childhood house. Not home. Never home. “Thanks Tech.”

“You are welcome.” He pauses, “Are you quite sure that you do not require aid? We can be there in a couple of days.”

“I have it.”

“They are your family.”

“Not all families are created equal, Tech. And this,” You hold up the datapad, "has been a long time coming.”

Tech sighs, “Comm when you have him back. And if you should think that you need our help-”

“I’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks for the intel, Tech. I mean it.”

“You do not have to thank me. Crosshair is my twin brother. I want him safe just as much as you do.”

“Even so. I know you’re not my biggest fan.”

Tech is quiet for a moment, “I will concede that, perhaps, I was too quick to judge.”

“Yeah, well…so was I. Water under the bridge.”

Tech smiles at you, a small smile, but a smile all the same, “I think I am beginning to see what Crosshair sees in you. Happy hunting.”

You flash a small smirk, “Yeah. Right back at you.” And then you kill the holo. You look back at the datapad, and swipe through the information.

“Hold on, Cross. I’ll be there soon.” You whisper to the empty ship.

“It’s a simple thing,” Crosshair rolls his eyes at the massive Devaronian looming over him, “All you have to do is tell us where the little mistress is.”

“I told you the truth weeks ago,” He drawls, “I can’t help you.” He grunts in pain as a large fist slams into his stomach, “Kriff-”

“Mistress,” The guard says with a frown, “I’m beginning to think that he’s telling the truth.”

‘Mistress’ is a slender woman with white blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Though slender isn’t really the right word. Crosshair would personally call her skeletal, but the first time he asked how they managed to make a corpse walk and talk, he was electrocuted, so he’s learned to hold his tongue.

“He has to know,” The woman’s voice is cold. “Why else would he have gone to the PI?”

“Because you’re offering a hell of a lot of credits, lady.” Crosshair lies.

“You do not speak to the Mistress,” The guard snaps, taking a menacing step towards Crosshair.

“No. Leave him. I tire of this.” The woman says, before she turns to the side, “What do you think, darling.”

‘Darling’ is her husband. Just as thin and skeletal as his white, though his hair is more of a golden blonde than the silvery blonde of his wife. If Crosshair had to guess, one of them bleaches their hair, though which one isn’t something he cares about.

He’s also crueler than his wife. 

Crosshair will likely have scars from the stun batons that ‘Darling’ used against him. If he hates ‘Mistress’, then Crosshair absolutely despises ‘Darling’. How either of these people could parent someone like his Princess is beyond him. Maybe she’s adopted.

He glances to the side when the door to the dungeons slams open and a trembling twi’lek hurries his, “Master! Mistress!” He gasps, “The Little Mistress is here.”

The room falls silent, “Are you quite sure?” The Mistress asks. 

“Yes ma’am,” The Twi’lek bobs into a bow, “She consented to a DNA scan. It’s her. Would you like me to bring her down?”

“No, we’ll-”

The door slams open again, “No need. I thought I’d come and say hello.”

Crosshair has always thought that his Princess is stunning, but seeing her standing in the doorway, clad in tight leather, and with her short hair falling into her eyes…she looks like an avenging angel and he’s never been more attracted to her in his life.

Impressive, since he can hardly keep his hands to himself as it is.

“Sweetheart!” The Mistress takes half a step towards her, “Your hair…your face! Why are you so fat?”

Princess closes her eyes for a moment, and then she turns and blatantly ignores everyone in the room, “Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, and for a moment, Crosshair can pretend that they’re on the ship and it’s just them. 

He slides his arms through the bars of the cell, and holds out his trembling hands, “Better, since you’re here.”

Her sharp eyes linger on his trembling hands, on the burn marks on his arms, chest, and stomach. Her gaze lingers on the bruises covering his face and his torso.

And her eyes go cold.

“Sweetling, why are you talking to that-” His Princess’ father says as he takes a step towards her, reaching out to touch her. 

There’s a flash of silver, only noticed because he was looking for it, and then there’s screaming as ‘Darling’ falls back, clutching his blood soaked arm. His Princess carefully uses a cloth to wipe the blood off the blade. 

“You took Crosshair.” Her voice is flat, emotionless. 

She’s clearly pissed.

“You know,” She continues, some emotion returning to her voice, and she directs her comment towards him, “I really only considered two options when coming here.”

“Oh yeah?” Cross asks as he leans against the bars.

“Hm. Option 1, they took you and killed you.” She continues lightly, “And if that was the case I was going to kill them all, burn this place to the ground, and then throw myself at the Empire until they managed to kill me.”

“Dramatic.”

She shrugs a single shoulder, “Option 2, is that they took you and were using you as bait to make me come here. In this scenario, you were uninjured, just annoyed, and I just threatened great bodily harm and we carried on our way.”

She casts her gaze over him again, “Somehow,” She continues, “The idea that they might torture you never crossed my mind.”

“They are still your family, Princess. I’m not gonna blame you for not wanting to believe the worst of them.” Crosshair says lazily.

She turns to the cell door and effortlessly picks the lock and swings the door open, “Well, you’re the injured party, Cross. What do you want?”

“You have a blaster?”

She smiles and wordlessly passes it to him.

Even with nerve damage, and trembling hands, he’s still the best. 

Three shots. Three blaster rounds. 

Three dead bodies. 

His Princess takes the blaster back and slides it in her holster, before she helps him with a shirt she brought him, “Are you ready to go?” She asks.

“More than ready.” He leans against her, needing her support to make it back to the ship, “Let’s get out of here.”

A week later, you step into the bedroom on your ship, your gaze lingering on Crosshair. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at his shaking hands. Nerve damage takes weeks to heal, even with bacta.

His hands will be shaking for a while.

Maybe you’ll take Tech up on that offer for a 3 month long vacation on Pabu.

But first-

You enter the room and kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands in yours and pressing light kisses against the palms of his hands. “Do they hurt?” You ask.

“It’s mostly just an ache,” He admits, bitterly, “I’m not going to be able to-”

“Shh,” You release one of his hands and reach up to cup his cheek, “Crosshair, your only responsibility right now is to heal.”

He scowls at you, though you know he’s more annoyed at the situation than at you. “I feel useless.”

“Nonsense. You could never be useless.”

“You’re biased.”

“Mm, perhaps. A little.” You stand and settle on the bed next to him, “But I’m also honest. You will heal. You will get back to 100%. It just takes time.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t be like that.” You say as you lay your head on his shoulder, “After that Wookie broke my leg in three places, you didn’t accuse me of being a burden or of being useless, even though I felt like I was.”

Crosshair shakes his head, and then leans his head against yours, “You gonna use my words against me?”

“If I have to.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I suppose you did pay for the best doctors to see me.” 

“Yes, I did.” You reply smugly.

“Alright.” He turns to look at you properly, “I’ll be patient.”

“You’re a sniper, patience is your thing.” You tease him, throwing his words back at him.

His arms, strong and steady, hook around you and he pulls you onto his lap, “Yeah, yeah.” Crosshair leans in and kisses you hungrily, nipping at your lower lip roughly enough that you squeak, “So. You gonna tell me what you and Tech have been talking about?”

“...he’s invited us to come to Pabu until you finish recovery. I’m thinking that agreeing might be a good idea.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “If you think it’s a good idea, Princess, then I won’t argue. But I refuse to stay with my siblings.”

“Of course not, we’ll be staying here or in an inn.” You brush your fingers across his cheek, “I’ll go let him know.”

Crosshair tightens his grip around you, “You can tell him later. I want you for myself right now.”

You beam at him, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

[nahoney22]

Since you opened requests I just had to grasp the opportunity. Instead of a trope or so, I wanted to send in something a little different. I have this sentence that had been sitting in my notes for a long time, and wonder if you could make something with it, if that is ok with you? "Marks and scars tell as much of a story as words do, sometimes even more so." As for the characters? Cobb Vanth x F! Reader and I will leave it to you if it is SFW of NSFW, I love all of it anyway.

I love me a bit of Cobb 🥹 enjoy my lovely friend @ladykatakuri

A Love We Never Got Over

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Cobb Vanth X F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

You and Cobb go back, way back. On your return you hear about the standoff between him and the notorious Bounty Hunter. Sometimes, it’s never too late to give up on something once true.

warnings: mentions of blood and Cobbs wound, you and Cobb have a history, little angst and some fluff too for good measure. Safe for work mainly. A little suggestive if you squint.

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Mos Pelgo. Just as barren and dull as you remembered.

It had been a year, maybe two for that matter when you last stepped foot into this town. The sand sinks beneath your feet with every step and the hot Tatooine sun beams against the back of your neck and you couldn’t help but bask in it for a small moment, not being surprised that you had missed it.

You halt midway through the town and take it all in. Everything seemed the same but it was quiet… very quiet. Upon your travels you had heard that the town had changed and the Mining Collective had vanished but where was everyone now? And where was Cobb?

So you check the place you thought he’d be first, the local cantina.

Stepping inside you’re hit with a pang of familiarity. Yourself and Cobb would’ve spent so many long nights in here talking each other's ears off, drinking until you were both under the table but that changed so quickly. Staring at the booth in the corner of the cantina, your heart sank as the memory of your first kiss, your first everything….

Your sullen thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name called and you turn to the bar where the Weequay who you had known for a long time stares right at you.

“Hey Taanti.” You breathe softly. He stares at you for a moment longer and you would not be surprised if he were to kick you out and tell you to never return. Instead, a smile broke out on his lips and the rag he was using to clean a glass was thrown onto the bartop before he came bounding towards you with outstretched arms.

“I can’t believe my eyes.” He gushed, embracing you tightly to the point you had to gasp for breath. As he pulls away he grasps your cheeks and sighs heavily but still with a smile. “Where have you been, woman? It’s been far too long.”

“Exploring the galaxy. Just as I had always hoped to do.” You smile and walk with him as he gestures to a table where the pair of you could catch up.

He smiles expectantly and nods his head. “Ah, I remember you always talking about that but why are you here back?”

Your wry smile answers his question.

Taanti shifts somewhat uncomfortably. “Left a lot of things unsaid?”

“You could say that.” You look down, ashamed and embarrassed as you remember the night you had fled. Cobb and you said some unkind things to each other but in the heat of everything, you realised that it was stupid. So much time wasted. “Where is he?”

Then you see the way his face drops, swirling his fingers around on the flat table as another sigh draws from his mouth. “I need to tell you something… but please don’t panic.”

Okay. Just breathe.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Convincing the guards to let you into Jabba- or this Boba’s palace was a task and a half. But with enough determination and low-key begging, they let you inside but of course escorted you to where Cobb was.

Every step was driving you insane. You were closer to him than you have been for years with every step you took but when it got to the door where he was behind, you halted.

The guard stopped too and gave you a weary look. “Are you ready?”

Your breathing had stopped and you found the floor suddenly more interesting. “I… yeah. Sorry.” You collect yourself and allow the guard to open the door.

The room revealed to you was spacious and eerily cleaned to perfection. It was also quite dark, the lights above dimly lit and the main source of light being the open windows that were shielded by a soft fabric of curtain that billowed gently.

However it was the large tank far ahead that caught your eye the most which most definitely had a person inside.

The guard was kind enough to give you some space and that they’ll wait outside as you finally find the courage to walk forward.

With slow and tepid steps, you are standing by the bacta tank and you take a deep breath before looking over and that’s when your world explodes.

There he was. Just laying there. His chest was bare but had his lower half covered and he was alive of course but barely according to Taanti. Immediately tears brimmed to your eyes and you had to hold back a choked sob.

“Oh you idiot Cobb. Damn idiot.” You sniffle with a shake of your head, watching as his chest rises and falls.

You stay for a while, just watching until you place a hand over the glass top, just over where his chest was and take control of your breathing. Wiping away a leaking tear with the back of your hand you closed your eyes and took in the moment.

You’re here with him now and you can not help that sickening feeling in your gut that maybe this would not have happened if you left. You feel selfish, selfish for wanting something more that the galaxy had to offer. And now he was laying there, a blaster wound to his shoulder. Kriff, he was lucky it wasn’t the chest.

Then his eyes opened.

It took him a moment to see, the bacta making everything a little hazy but he was so sure that it was you.

You were standing over him, eyes still closed and every so slowly reached towards the buttons on the side where once hit, the bacta is drained.

The noise made your eyes shoot open and sure enough, his were staring right into yours. It was as if you got short yourself, stumbling back as you watched the lid begin to open followed by Cobb slowly emerging out. Not once did he take his eyes off you either.

He stands, body dripping wet as you stumble back and suddenly grow shy. You looked down at the floor, cursing to yourself that this may have been a mistake because his face? Unreadable. Mad? Sad? Confused? You could not place it but you heard him come closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you.

Silence filled the room, the odd sound of water dripping against the marble floor. Then, after a moment, he speaks.

“Look at me.”

And so you do.

Your eyes lock once more and your heart flutters, just as it did all that time ago. As he’s looking at you, Cobb had nothing short of adoration written all over his face. The same look he had given you when he first laid his eyes on you. “Darling, why are you here?” Comes his question, soft spoken and trembling with anxiety.

Truth is, you did know and you also didn’t. You knew you had to see him, knowing that there was a love still there. But, were you crazy? To come back after all this time? “I…” you try to talk, finding it hard to find your voice but you were struggling, “I wanted to see you.”

Those words were all he wanted to hear after all this time. You wanted to see him and he had longed to see you just as much. With not one ounce of communication between the pair of you one would think he would be furious that you had the audacity to just show up. But you were here and you were just as beautiful as the day you left.

Without any word of warning, you feel a pair of arms around you and you’re brought into a damp, toned chest. Your heart was racing and you were truly shocked.

Your hands pathetically lay by your sides as his arms wrap around your shoulders, his breathing a little heavy and you swear you could hear him wince once you eventually begin to hug back.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Voice hoarse, you pull your head back to look up at him.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” He tuts with a shake of his head. “Never. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“As am I.” You breathe softly, resting your cheek against his bare chest and letting your eyes fall shut. “Can’t believe you got yourself shot.”

He chuckles but then flinches a little at the movement so you pull all the way back and inspect his wound closely. “At least it’s not in your chest.”

“Was close though.” He sighs and that’s when he decides it’s best to grab a robe and cover himself up in front of you. Once dressed suitably, he walks towards a marble white bench and pats the spot beside him for you to come sit. You do and the pair of you both fall into silence.

You both somehow found solace in this. You both didn’t need to speak at this moment but just embraced the feeling of knowing that you were together again and both alive. Thinking back to how you left, the last hurtful words you tossed at one another didn’t seem to matter any more. Despite feeling that you left a moment of your soul before you left, it doesn’t seem that way.

“Cobb,” your voice finds you, “why don’t you hate me?”

His head snaps in your direction as you speak, your eyes glistening a little. “Why would I?”

“I…I left. We were together and happy and I left.” You cursed a little as you began to sniffle as you spoke but you needed to know; to understand why he had no resentment to you.

“You did leave but I was an idiot for not going with you. You wanted the galaxy and I wanted to stay where I felt like I belonged. Little did I know what a mistake I made.” Ever so gently, you place a hand on top of his as he talks, your body warming up as you trace your fingers delicately over the back of his hand.

“A mistake?”

“Look at me, my love. I’ve gotten shot and I’m meant to be the protector of the town. What good am I if I can’t fight off one man?” He berates himself, looking away as if he had disgusted you just as much as he had himself. There was no denying how much the town meant to him, which was a huge reason why he did not want to leave in the first place. “And then I let you slip away.”

You sit for a moment and think and smile gently as you both entwine your fingers and you tilt his head to face you. “A great man once told me ‘marks and scars tell as much of a story as words do, sometimes even more so’.”

He looked at you and felt a wave of intimacy wash over him. He knew those words because he had spoken them to you whenever you were feeling at your lowest. He never thought he would hear you telling him that.

“You may have been shot but that shows great courage and power that highlights you’ll do anything for your town. And me? You let me be happy elsewhere. It may have cut at first but it scarred over and you let me be free. Let me be who I was and let me be happy.” Your words are soft spoken and every ounce of it is true.

He is watching you, truly watching. You looked as though you had not even aged a day but him? Grey haired and more rugged. A jolt of insecurity began to settle in his mind and he just had to ask before he could make a fool out of himself, “Did you ever meet someone else?”

“No. How could I?”

“Well,” he starts off, running a hand through his damp hair as he tries to think of something suave or something charismatic to say, “look at you. Any person in the galaxy would have been lucky to have you. I sure was.” He then chuckles, grinning almost. “Heck, I couldn’t believe how I landed you in the first place.”

You say his name so gently that it was like a symphony to his ears, “Why are you saying ‘was’?”

This time he looks at you puzzled. “W-we broke up? Didn’t we? Truthfully I can’t remember that night as it was a little hazy but-.”

He’s silenced by the taste of something sweet, something familiar and something he had missed.

Your lips press firmly to his in the heat of a moment. Was it just to silence his ramblings? Possibly but it could also be because you wanted to show him that there could never have been anyone else.

He sighs against you, a hand comping up and loosely cupping your cheek with such endearment. The way his fingers caressed your skin sent shockwaves down your skin and you shuddered, only to pull yourself into him until you were in his lap.

With one hand on your cheek and another on your lower back for support, you allowed him to deepen the kiss ever so softly until you felt it - desperation. It became hungry with your hands flying into his hair, teeth clashing which neither of you seemed to mind and Cobb almost cursed in forlorn as he could feel your breasts pushed against his chest.

At first you thought it was just a droplet of water from his hair but you were certain that you were crying but not crying because you were upset, in fact it was quite the opposite. You were happy. So happy.

Eventually with heavy breathing you pull back, resting your foreheads against each other until he breaks the soft silence. “I guess that answers my question.”

You laugh gently and nod, pulling back a little to gaze into those eyes that you got lost in the first time you met. “Cobb, there was never anyone else. It… it wasn’t over for me. It still isn’t.”

Cobb was almost overcome with emotion at your words but he kept it in and instead kissed your forehead, letting it linger. But, you felt his tears trickle down the side of your face.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I always will.” You replied.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

tags: @twistedstitcher27 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire

[lovelyfanatical]

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 10.1

Good evening fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever time it is for you! We've officially made it to the final week of the competition, aka the beginning of the end! And coincidentally, Bake Off is airing a new season! If you've missed any previous installments and need to catch up, you can find them all on my Table of Contents here. Last time, Makkari got Star Baker, and Druig was eliminated. What will he do next? Find out now, in the next mini-chapter of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

Sersi was already seated at a table when Druig arrived. She waved him over with a gentle smile on his face, and Druig plopped himself down on the seat across from her, mumbling his greetings. After exchanging pleasantries and putting in their drink orders, Sersi turned back to him and asked, "So, what's this all about, Druig?"

"I don't know what you mean," he lied, sipping his beer.

"Seriously? I nagged you about getting drinks for a week and you only now ask to meet up?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed as she continued. "Did Makkari send you to check up on me?"

"She did not. But while we're on the subject, how are you feeling about seeing your ex and your current boyfriend at the same party?"

"I actually feel fine. Ikaris and I are on decent terms, but it's none of his business who I'm seeing now. Besides, Dane and I are taking things slow," Sersi said nonchalantly. Druig must've looked surprised at this answer because she added, "Makkari already asked me. She really didn't put you up to this?"

"Nope," was all he said in reply.

Sersi gave him a long look, silently studying his face before she asked in a gentler tone, "Druig, are you and Makkari speaking again?"

"We are," he answered carefully.

"You resolved whatever happened that week?"

"We did."

"So, what's the problem?"

Druig averted his gaze as he thought about his answer. He didn't know why he had to think about it. He'd been thinking about it since Saturday. This was the very reason he'd reached out to Sersi in the first place. He needed to tell someone. Hunter had already put up with him for weeks and was unlikely to be helpful. Phastos had proved a good listener, but he was quite busy with his family during the week, and Druig didn't want to distract him ahead of the final. Of everyone else, he felt Sersi would be the most sympathetic. So, he took a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and let the words spill out.

"I'm in love with her, but I don't think I can ever tell her."

Sersi hadn't looked the slightest bit surprised by the first part of his statement, but her eyebrows rose and drew together in confusion at the second part. "Why ever not?"

With that, the flood gates were open. Druig told her everything that had happened, things he hadn't even told Phastos about. The investigations, the clandestine baking sessions, the accidental bed-sharing. Sersi mostly listened, only asking a few questions as they came up. When he finally finished, he was quite a few drinks in. Sersi had stopped at two drinks, but she was still wearing the same perplexed expression.

"What is it now?" he asked, feeling rather spent.

"I think I'm still missing something. Why can't you tell her how you feel?"

"Because I don't think she feels the same way. Also, she's my best friend, and I can't risk losing her again. The bed incident really did a number on us both."

In an instant, something seemed to click for Sersi. She reached across the table, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him as she said, "Druig, the bed incident did a number on Makkari because she loves you too."

Now it was Druig's turn to draw his eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't think so."

"She absolutely does. And from what I can tell, I'm pretty sure everyone else knows by now."

"No, they all know that I'm in love with Makkari. Not the other way 'round."

"How do you know?"

"Because they all tell me whenever she's not there to join the conversation! Thena kind of told me to ask her out, then Ajak told me not to, Sprite just called us gross-"

"Sprite insults everyone. I think it's her way of being friendly."

"I wasn't finished. Phastos did think we were dating already, but when I explained it to him, he said I should respect her wishes but also talk to her-"

"And what do most of these interactions have in common?"

"I'm not sober or drunk enough for this much critical thinking, Sersi."

"C'mon, I know Makkari's not the only detective. Use your deductive reasoning, Watson!"

Druig sighed dramatically, but used what brain power he had left to replay those moments back in his head. His face relaxed as an idea began to form. After what felt like a lengthy silence, he gave his answer. "As time went on, the others pre-supposed that we were a couple?"

"Which means…"

"They think Makkari has feelings for me, too."

"There you go!" Sersi said excitedly. "Myself included, by the way."

"Wait, is that why you kept hounding us about drinks?"

A sheepish look came over Sersi's face as she admitted, "I may have had a very silly plan to set a date and time that worked for both of you and then not show up myself."

Druig merely raised an eyebrow at her confession, and Sersi scrunched up her nose in embarrassment.

"I know, it's completely childish, but I don't usually play matchmaker with my friends, and Makkari seemed to like the idea, so…"

All of a sudden, realization hit Druig like a bolt of lightning. "That was the surprise Makkari was talking about. Why you didn't want Kingo to join us."

Sersi was smiling proudly now. Druig felt an involuntary grin spreading across his face as well.

"Makkari does love me."

"Glad you finally got there," Sersi replied gleefully. "But if she asks, I didn't tell you. You figured it out on your own. Got it?"

"Got it."

"So, what will you do with that information?"

"Oh, I'll do something. But not until after the competition. I don't want to distract her from that," he explained.

"Very considerate. Let me know if I can help with anything," Sersi offered.

"I will." Druig held up his drink. "To Sunday?"

"To Sunday," Sersi answered. They clinked their bottles together and downed the rest.

-

Big sister Sersi is my favorite Sersi, tbh 😊

Part 35

[bjorkn]

⚡︎ — whoa! NEVA BJÖRK just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 2 YEARS, working as a/an ART CURATOR. that can’t be easy, especially at only 30 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit IMPULSIVE and COMPUSILVE, but i know them to be OPEN MIND and KIND. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!

name — neva birgitta håkansson björk nickname(s) — normally people calls her neva, gigi for closed friends. name meaning — neva: snow , birgitta: the high one, or strength. & björk:  birch age — thirty date of birth — january, 1st sexual orientation — demisexual/straight height — 5'6" / 1,68m occupation — art curator (at MET museum) by day, night owl by night. residence — brooklyn birthplace ⏤ stockholm

#𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂:

mother — linnéa alma née håkansson björk (60)+( former miss world + doctor ) father ⏤ baldur fredrik björk (65 )+( ceo + economist + billionaire ) brothers — kris björk ( 40 ), ??? björk ( 38-44 + wc) marital status ⏤ dating ryan hunter caddel. issues ⏤ upcoming. ( expecting 5 months ) pets ⏤ boo björk ( ragdoll cat )

# 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾:

tw: cheating, depression, pregnancy

Neva is the daughter of a doctor and former Miss World, Linnéa, and businessman and economist Baldur Björk. She was born in Stockholm on a blizzard day, hence her name. Even on the news on TV was announced strong blizzard on the day she came. She is the younger of two brothers, and all of them are relatively close. Being the daughter of a beauty queen wasn't easy.

She always had an interest in the arts which was shown from an early age, before she could even learn how to talk, she learned how to draw. During her teen phase, she wasn't popular at school, and hardly had friends. Neva was often alone, but always hid it from her family, she never wanted any of them to worry about her. There wasn't any phase where her grades were bad, she was a good student ( top students ) , and never bragged about it.

When she was 15 she moved to USA in California. Her father was promoted from work ( & live ) and wanted to live abroad. In the very beginning was hard for her, because she liked her life in her hometown, despite not having friends, not other than her own brothers.

Her father was a bit disappointed that she studied 'arts'. He wanted her, just like be like his family following the financial business. Her mother hoped for her to be a doctor, like her family it was also a tradition in her family. She didn't hear neither of them and did what she wanted for herself.

During her college years, she fell in love with a guy, name Liam with whom she thought she would have a life ( they were engaged ), turns out he was cheating on her, with multiple people. They spent 5 years together. She was very heartbroken because she imagined he was her soulmate, and blind in love. Neva began to focus even more on her future in her graduation not wanting to feel the pain of heartbreak anymore.

Since then, she never had any other serious commitment to anyone, focused on her future, and fortunately, she graduated, got a great job with so much effort and soul to get where she got, and also has two p.H.d, she is an art curator at MET museum.

She met a guy named Ryan in one night and she asked him for help. He was off duty ( he is a firefighter ). Their friendship began to bloom ever since, he became her best friend, she didn't think he was into her until one day he declared her feelings to her. When they began dating found out their family knew each other. Despite dating not too long, she found you she's expecting his child. CURRENTLY: And now she's expecting a new challenge of having a child and Ryan is helping to be part of this new chapter.

(more to come)

#𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 + 𝚆𝙲:

⚡︎ — CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ; | 1 / 2 open | any character that went to high school in California. ⏤ taken by maddie & ⚡︎ — PEN PAL ; | closed | Someone who maybe could have written either letters, texts, or emails to my character. It could have been a pure internet friend that they maybe met on a social networking site and always promised to meet up and either didn’t or eventually did. ⏤ taken by liz ⚡︎ — GHOSTED ; | m | During the time she hustled to get where she got in her work, at MET museum, she tried to back on game on dates, but this she thought she would have a nice time, turns out she figured out she wasn't fully prepare for being in dates games again after breaking up with her fiance. Cowardly she ghosted on the y/m, besides as workaholic as she is didn't have time for y/m . ⏤ ⚡︎ — PARTYING BUDDIES ; | closed | a friendship that relies on nothing more then alcohol, drugs, going out and having a wild time. you could add more to this by having them occasionally hook up with intoxicated or something like that. ⏤ taken by honey & abigail ⚡︎ — MOM FRIEND ; | 1/2 open | she is the mom friend to y/m, always checking on them, making sure they had their water and get their daily vitamins lmao ⏤ taken by marcus ⚡︎ — GOOD INFLUENCE ; | 0/2 open | best friend who look out for each other and often act as a conscience to each other. ⚡︎ — STRANGER DANGER? ; | 1 open | someone they met through a friend of a friend. They have definitely heard of each other but was not sure how the other would be like unless they definitely met them for their own. They could end up being the best of friends or the worst enemies the world had ever seen ⚡︎ — DISTANT COUSINS ; | closed | self-explanatory. ⚡︎ — CO-WORKERS ; | ?? open | anyone that works at MET museum. ⚡︎ — NEIGHBORS (Brooklyn); | ?? open | more to come soon.

#𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙲.

⚡︎ — OLIVER METCALFE ; | best friend / soul brother ⚡︎ — AMANDA HENDERSON; | close friend ⚡︎ — HONEY LAVERE; | party friend + girl pal + best friend ⚡︎ — ABIGAIL KINGSLEY; | party friend ⚡︎ — RYAN CADDEL; | family friends + best friend + boyfriend + babies' father. ⚡︎ — HOLLY BERNE; | distant cousin ⚡︎ — ELIZABETH RUSSO; | pen pal friend + confident ⚡︎ — INGRID HÅKANSSON ; | aunt + maternal figure ish

[arcticlegend]

Hello, could I get something smutty, semi-smutty, however you like it, with V from dmc where the reader is wearing really short shorts and he can't keep his eyes off of her? If you don't vibe with this ask, I completely understand, thank you for the time in advance <3

GUESS WHO!

It's been quite the break, but now I'm back! I had probably too much fun with this one lol

❤️❤️❤️Don't forget to like and reblog!! It feeds the beast!!!❤️❤️❤️

~Damn Girl~

V × Reader (NSFW)

Another day, another moment closer to his doom. At the rate they were going, they would never get to Urizen in time. He could feel it, the demon king’s power growing by the minute while they all stayed on the sidelines waiting for Dante to get done playing around with these low-level, wastes of time. Impatient and scared, he stood with Griffon sitting on the music player while shadow lie at his feet, fast asleep. His thoughts ran wild through his head as he tried to read his book, flipping through poem after poem trying to find something to distract himself and give him some sort of hope that they could make this work. He frequently wondered if this little team would even be capable. His brother, the child,… and the women were all strong in their own ways, but with how powerful the demon king had become, it was uncertain whether or not their strength would be enough.

Lady and Trish… He remembered Lady from back then- back when he was young and foolish, making an alliance with her father to open the portal. He could still see the pain and confusion that wracked her body, bled from her eyes. She stared up at him from under his sword, accusing him when it had been Arkham’s plan all along. She had been deceived easily as she was young and naïve. She was different now, standing tall having put her past behind her and had grown into the demon hunter look. Next in line for judgement was the demon.

Trish bothered him. The fact that this demon had his mother’s face made something inside of him burn with a hate that he couldn’t seem to direct at anyone. It wasn’t her fault, after all. She had been created and did not get to choose her face. He understood this feeling well as they shared a former master. Mundus was a cruel bastard from the choppy flashes of memory he had left, some of the pieces still clearly missing. The nightmares had shown him glimpses of the torture he had endured in the underworld, the years he had spent stuck in that armor. He was a heartless, mindless, killer that lived for Mundus, existed for Mundus. It was hellish, his consciousness deep inside that zombie-like state, screaming and crying out in agony.

Simply because of that, he couldn’t hate Trish for anything, knowing that the bastard had to have hurt her too somehow. Though what bugged him more than Trish just wearing her face, was also that she just so happened to be Dante’s good friend. His brother seemed to have an iron grip on their mother in life and now even in death. It angered V more than anything, remembering how she would always take his side. He remembered how the last interaction he had with his mother was her taking Dante’s side, chastising him for simply not wanting to fight his brother. All he wanted to do was read his book and she took HIS side.

Never mind that now. He had to stay calm.

Nico was a character. She was annoying, but very bright and handy. If here was something malfunctioning, it didn’t take her long to fix it. Rarely, she proved to be entertaining, occasionally drawing a smirk from him as she rambled on and jabbed fun at the others.  She wasn’t a fighter, but was valuable and reliable as a support, fixing gear and fashioning up new weapons for the group to use.

Then… there was her. A little odd, but still a beloved member of their group. She wasn’t much of a fighter, rather specialized in healing. She had some strange magic that closed wounds faster and gave a power boost to friendly attacks. It made her an invaluable support to have and would make her a main priority in the battles ahead as that power could be very useful in defeating the demon king.

Like Nico, she liked to wear shorts outside of battle, those jean shorts with the frayed ends that hugged close to her thighs. He thought they looked nice, but did his best to look away, believing that it was frivolous to indulge in such behaviors. He also believed it to be rude to stare at women in an inappropriate manner as it was impolite and typically unlike him. Something changed that today, however.

She walked in from the very back of the RV, from the room with the bunks and the fold out couch as she usually did, stretching her arms above her head. He was glad she looked well rested, the usual dark bags under her eyes were lighter and appeared less stressed. When he looked down, though, he found that he couldn’t look away.

“Hey guys! Still waiting on that dummy to get back?”

She walked right past him up to the front speaking to Nico, who sat in the driver’s seat. His self control was gone. He couldn’t help the way his head turned as she walked by, couldn’t stop how his eyes followed the way each cheek pressed into the shorts with each step.

“Yeah, he’s still out there. I thought he’d be back by now,” said Lady as she crossed her legs and leaned back over Trish’s shoulder to peek at her magazine. That didn’t matter at all to V. He was too distracted to care about what those two were saying. How could he when her ass spilled so deliciously from those deathly short shorts. They hugged her ass just right, the very bottoms of those succulent cheeks peeking from the frayed seem of the denim.

“Nero’s with em. He should be fine as long as they stick together. Cant say I’m worried in the slightest.” Nico yawned as she propped her feet up on the dash. The healer didn’t look so sure, however, her focus darting out the window of the van into the direction they left in. V was sure that if her weapon hadn’t been damaged in the previous fight, she’d have gone out there to help without hesitation. There wasn’t fight without her weapon, however, so she were stuck in the van.

Trish stood up, dropping the magazine she had been so invested in onto the couch and moved for the door.

“I’m going to see what’s taking Dante so long.” She claimed haughtily, as if she was slightly irritated that she had to get up, but V could tell she was worried about her friend, something that made him so jealous that the only thing keeping him calm was the view of those shorts hugging the healer's inner thighs so tightly. It was a strange mix of anger and envy that clashed hard with the arousal he felt by her presence.

“I’ll go too. I want to see what all the fuss is about. It’s too stuffy in here anyways.”

Lady followed suit, shutting the door after Trish, leaving to Nico stare out the window after them, being oddly quiet. After a moment of contemplation, she seemed to get an idea and stood from the driver’s seat.

“Okay, Kiddies. I’m gonna follow after em and see if they drop any goodies for me to use. Don’t wreck anything while I’m gone. Nero’s gonna need a new breaker soon anyways, so now’s a good time as any to grab somethin’.” With that, the chatterbox of a woman was out the door and chasing after the other two women.

V suddenly felt nervous as he realized he was very much alone with the woman he had been interested in since he had laid eyes on her. Here she was leaning over to grab something out of her bag, showing him the reason he struggled to keep his composure.

"So, V, you aren’t going to go help or are you still tired? I know you’ve been under a lot of fire recently. Nothing wrong with needing a break.”

She finally sat down across from where he stood and smiled up at him, bright and beautiful the way those soft lips curled. He only wished he could taste them, bite them.

“No. I would rather not partake in their fight. I need to expend as little energy as possible.” She nodded in response with a cheeky smile, something that made him slightly nervous. It was like she knew something he didn’t and that instantly put him on edge.

“Do you see something you like, V? You’ve been looking at me since I walked in.”

He blushed furiously at the accusation, but  also shock as he had no idea that she had even noticed. After all, she didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked by.

“I have done no such thing.”

She laughed in his face. Under normal circumstances, he would have slaughtered someone for daring to make fun of him, but this was no normal circumstance. This was her. Even as she chuckled warmly at his expense, he still felt only embarrassment and was in no way angry. How could he be? He had just ogled her ass not too long ago right in front of everyone. It’s only fair she’d point it out and/or be upset if she noticed.

“Oh, I never took you for a liar, V. To omit some things, yes, but never to lie so blatantly.”

Shit… he thought as she re-crossed her legs, swallowed as he noticed the way the denim hugged her plush thighs. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he control himself? He stood there watching, eyes locked on her legs and it only proved her point.

“It’s okay, V,” she said as she stifled a laugh, “there’s nothing wrong with taking in the view every once in a while… though if you're interested, I’d let you touch them. You can deny all you want, but your eyes are saying otherwise.”

What…? She was offering to let him touch her? Where? Why? Questions raced through his scattered mind as he felt the sweat bead at his forehead. Here he was trying desperately hard to keep cool and she ruined it by offering something he couldn’t possibly resist.

Before all of this, he would have called her a harlot, a little witch trying to sway him with sex appeal and he would have told her to her face with no remorse. Now? He loved it. He loved that feeling deep within him every time he saw her. It made him feel alive- made him forget that everything was falling apart.

“Ridiculous.” He stated simply, panic and impatience buzzing in his limbs like wasps.

“What do you want, V?”

What did he want?

“Tell me what you want, V,” she whispered as she drew closer and closer, that tantalizing mouth becoming too much to resist.

What did he want?

His lips crashed into hers, his palms on her smooth cheeks as he claimed her. He did as he craved, nipping into that full bottom lip, his hand slipping to cup the underside of her head. He nearly shivered as he felt her hands hold his waist close to hers, their bodies pressed tightly together. The love of his life held him close as if he would slip away if she let go. He didn’t want her to. He wanted her to hold on forever, keep him held tight in her embrace. It was a feeling that nearly felt foreign to him. Being loved…

“V.” His name was muffled against his lips as he couldn’t pull away, both of their mouths moving together clumsily, but with such a passion that it failed to stifle the heat in his belly.

“I want you… I want you so bad, V… I wanted you since the day you killed that demon… fuck… while reciting that damned poetry.”

He bent her over, pushing her face into the cushions as he ground against her, and took great enjoyment in her pitiful whines. V considered himself a passionate man, one that would rather make love to a woman rather than fuck her senseless, but those damn shorts had him becoming something he wasn’t accustomed to. It was some strange primal side to him that welled to the surface when he looked down to the curve of her butt. It was animalistic how he needed to ravage her, tear that denim into scraps and scatter it around them like rose petals. His mind wandered away in a fog of his imagination, running through the scenarios that played through his brain like memories. He could see her laid back in a bed, legs spread and ready for him, her hands gripping the pillow above her as he railed into her relentlessly. Though the images he saw behind his lids were mouthwatering, they also deeply saddened him, because he could not see himself in his current state doing things like that to her. He saw who he used to be… should’ve been. The taught muscles that rippled underneath unblemished skin, his ivory hair that fell out of place with every thrust of his hips. If he could fix th-… If Dante could fix this, then maybe there would be a chance for that dream to become a reality, however, she was here underneath him as he was- a fragile little half of a human that was sure to perish if they failed.

“You just had to tempt me. Were you so in need of my attention that you went this far? These don’t leave much room to the imagination, dearest.”

She stuttered some unintelligible answer, but whether he understood it or not didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was how hot she was for him- how those soft cheeks were ablaze with red, how her usually controlled breathing was now quick. Watching her writhe with every drag of his bulge sent sparks up his spine and raised the hairs on his arms.

He wanted to see her cum just as much as he wanted to seat himself inside of her warmth.

“Do you feel what you have done to me? The haze of your beauty makes me blind, the mist of lust lost me down a never ending trail. The brush of your skin is like the brush of leaves as I explore the unexplored.”

She stared up at him from her odd position, lips parted and eyes lidded in maybe wonder or arousal. He smirked in amusement as he relished in what he was doing to her, knowing that every word he said had her so compliant, so submissive to him.

“Why don’t I finally take these off of you, my love? Hm?”

Finally, he could hook his fingers under the waist of that sinful garment and pull it off of her once and for all. When he did? Perfection. He savored the slow slide as he pulled them down under her ass, revealing the soft fullness he had only been imagining days before and now here they were. Her soaking wet pussy peaked from between her ample glutes, the wetness smearing over her inner thigh. He didn’t even get the shorts off of her yet before he began to grope both cheeks, pressing down with his palms. How could someone be this perfect? He wondered as he squeezed each one and earned a small moan for his efforts. He used both thumbs to spread her open, a ragged whine tearing through his as he saw that sweet little hole he was about to claim as his own.

“That actually feels wonderful. I don’t think anyone has ever massaged my ass before. I think it’s actually better than a back rub.”

He grunted as his thumbs dug into a particularly pleasurable spot for her. The sweet moans that tumbled from her lips had him so stiff. If there was a second time, he would definitely indulge her later, but at that moment, he just needed her so badly.

“Dearest… Can I-… Please?”

He didn’t know what overtook him, but he felt a wave of shame crash through him because he couldn’t say what he really wanted. He needed to tell her how he wanted her to ride him as he thrust up into her hot core. He wanted to feel her juices run down over his hip bone when he’d spear into her. For whatever reason, he believed that she could fulfill his deepest desire, his lust for purpose. She would make him feel needed… wanted… all by simply accepting him at his weakest.

“Please, V! Please fuck me! I fucking want you to take me…”

Not like this… Not from behind. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to grasp her breasts as she bounced on his cock, needed to feel her toned, yet soft thighs press into his waist.

“Let me…” He couldn’t say it. For whatever reason, he just couldn’t communicate it aloud. He wasn’t usually one to be bashful, but he understood why. When was the last time he had sex? He definitely wasn’t experienced enough to be as confident as he liked to feign and figured it was only natural to be anxious, not wanting to disappoint her.

Patiently, she watched him undo his pants and the cord of his coat with heavy lids as he laid down on the floor of the RV, thoughts of the dirt and whatever else that might be there were set aside. He’d been covered with nastier things while waiting for their return. She followed suit in dropping her shorts the rest of the way down her legs, having understood what position he wanted. What V saw had him groaning pathetically.

She wore no undergarments under those fucking shorts.  

“My dear… you’re going to be the end of me.”

She giggled behind her hand which he thought was odd considering that she stood over him wearing nothing below her waist, yet needed to cover up that adorable smile. She was so strange to him, such an enigma and yet he couldn’t stay away, always drawn to her eccentricities rather than repulsed.

He motioned for her to come down to him, to sit in his lap and finally give him that much needed friction. When she finally did, he felt the oxytocin rush through his brain, rampage through his body as the pleasure curled around each toe, every finger. The slick slide of her folds over his cock had him reeling. He murmured low, quiet moans with each roll of her hips.

“Fuck, V… How are you so hard?” She whimpered into the back of her hand.

That was a dumb question, especially when the answer was: everything. Her smell, her eyes, legs, and hips all made him insane. From where he was, straddled by such a gorgeous woman on the floor of someone else’s RV, he felt nothing but sweet intoxication as her perfume flooded his lungs. He needed more. He needed her to move.

He took charge, grasping at her ass so that he could drag her sweet pussy along his dick, so relieved and yet still wanting. He gazed up in amazement at the way her lips parted, lost as she eagerly ground into him, wanting him just as much as he needed her.

“Come now… indulge me…”

He loved how his words made her shiver as if is his voice were like a sort of aphrodisiac. Every sound had her soaked with the need to be stuffed full and with her eagerness, that need would be satiated very soon.

So finally, she rocked over him once more at a new angle, his aching cock slipping deep inside of her in one long stroke. Time stopped. The world effectively stopped spinning as her deep warmth engulfed him in a thick haze of ecstasy. She was so unbelievably tight, he thought to himself as his moans were strangled in his throat. The feeling was so strong, he feared he’d meet his release too soon, silently begging her to wait by holding her hips firmly in place.

V felt shame, being driven into a lust ridden dog all over a pair of shorts. Underneath the shame, however, he was thankful and thrilled to be able to cup her thick cheeks in his hands. His toes curled as he thought about how the soft flesh spilled between his fingers since her ass was too big. She was so fucking perfect.

He finally started to grind upwards into her heat, the feeling of popping too quick had subsided. She assisted in lifting herself up off his length only to drop right back down and bottom out, sending V into a fit of pleasure, his nails dragging red lines over her skin. On her hands and knees over him, she rocked over him, picking up the pace for her own benefit, his precious girl’s eyes closed in bliss as he seemed to drag over all the right spots.

“V… it’s so good… I wanted your cock so bad… Those fucking things…”

Your last few words confused him, but didn’t stop him from propping himself up to start meeting your rolling hips with his own hard thrusts. His eyes lidded, he gazed up at you to question your strange thoughts.

“What do you-“ he let out a soft grunt as your cunt squeezed him so good, “-mean, love?”

She leaned forward, still snapping her hips downward and moaned into his neck, wet squelching noises rang in his ears when the angle changed. The feeling had him lifting his head up and gasping up at the ceiling, the feeling amplified by her soft lips mouthing at his carotid artery.

“Those shorts are so uncomfortable,” she hissed through bared teeth, “I thought you’d like them… I’m glad it worked. Quicker than I thought…” It made V’s eyes widen in realization. She wore them on purpose. It was no accident that she wore nothing under them either.

He growled and thrust up into her harder, feeling her wetness splash with every slap of his flesh against hers. Fuck yes… he could feel it river over his abs, the sensation burned him as it was like finally experiencing one of his fantasies. Something so small- something that should be disgusting, only made him so much harder. V could tell she could feel it as well judging by how she writhed above him, how her moans turned to sweet keens. His thumbs dragged along the center of her rib cage so he could cup her perfect breasts, rubbing them back and forth over her stiff nipples. If the position wasn’t so hard on his back, he’d have sucked one into his mouth. He salivated at the thought of licking those perfect tits as she bounced, her fingers tight in his hair.

His imagination was so vivid, he almost burst again, having to abandon the breasts he only started to fondle. He had to slow her down.

“Too much… too much, damn…”

She smirked knowingly down at him, proud that she could make him feel that good. She shouldn’t be anything less than proud of how skilled she was.

“Going to cum so soon, sweetie? We only just started.”

V took all the strength he had to lift himself up, knocked her onto her back.

“And if I am? It’s all your fault. That’s what you wanted to hear, right little wanderer?”

Her sharp gasp had him reeling. He needed to make her cum. He needed to occupy that cocky little mouth with sweet whimpers rather than those arrogant little quips. He’d make her feel so good she couldn’t speak.

Hooking his arms around her thighs, he buried his face between them, his lips giving wet kisses to those sensitive lower ones, sucking them into his mouth. Her fingers were quick to tangle into his hair and scrape over his scalp as he worked, tongue peeking between plush lips to taste her clit. He relished in every sweet moan that tumbled from her and groaned with satisfaction into her inner thigh when she squeezed them tight around his face. His tongue flickered over her, obsessed with the musky taste of her slick, not minding how it smeared on his cheek or dripped down his chin.

“V! V, oh my- Fuck!!!”

He doubled down, desperate to please her. Her chest heaved as he ate, ribs rippling under her skin as she flinched at a particularly shap bit of oversensitivity. It was a pattern he found himself invested in as he dragged her closer and closer to the edge of climax. He flickered his tongue over her clit, but when he noticed her teeth bared, her legs shake, he slowed down to a more languid motion and would even explore. He dipped his tongue into his pussy, heat sharp down his chest and into his abdomen as he remembered he had just been fucking her and now his tongue was pushing into that same hole.

“V… please. I wanna cum! Please!”

He obliged and though he would have rather kept teasing her, she was right. He wanted to cum too, after all. So he latched onto her clit, lips tight around her as he sucked hard on it, his hand abandoning one of her thighs to push a couple fingers deep into her pussy. The noises she made were unholy. These feelings… he had never felt this way about a woman before, never for any other being in his life. Not even that sweet young woman in Fortuna could even remotely compare to the woman underneath him now. She was a little minx, a temptress that danced around him and had him bound by her spell. He couldn’t put a finger on why that was. There were plenty of women he met in his life that fancied him, beautiful ones at that. By comparison, she wasn’t as ‘beautiful” as the others, but something about her made her like a goddess in his eyes. She didn’t need to be perfect. She needed to be his.

He was broken out of his trance when he felt her thighs shake against his cheeks, heard her moans start to spike as any words she tried to speak became senseless babbles. She was getting close.

“I’M-! I’m gonna-! Oh god!”

She gripped his black locks with an iron grip between her fingers and it was borderline painful, but nothing could stop him from keeping his brutal, yet gentle pace on her clit, his tongue flicking in just the perfect way to make her cry out. He focused hard on the sounds she made, focused hard on giving her that sweet release she deserved.

“I’M CUMMING! OH GOD, V, I’M CUMMING!”

Her body jolted, abs tightened, and her pussy pulsed around his fingers as she came. Her mouth was open in a silent scream as she convulsed in pleasure, her orgasm strong enough to rip through her body. As he noticed her peak start to descend, he slowed his pace as to not overstimulate her too much, but felt his cock twitch when he noticed she had squirted on his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him proud that he had it in him to do that to her. When her legs finally parted to let him go, he slid his fingers out of her, whining at the line of her cum that still connected to her pussy. She was absolutely wrecked, sweat dripping down her brow, her cheeks flushed red as she panted, still trying to catch her breath.

“Sorry to be impatient love, but I have to have you… need to take you.”

He climbed over her, black tattoos rippling over the little muscle he had and he wasted no time in taking what he wanted, spearing himself deep inside of her.

He kissed his sweet darling hard as he set a bruising pace. The wet heat was absolutely, mind-numbingly intoxicating as it sucked him in, their lip lock only pushing him closer to spurting his seed deep inside her. He could feel the coils of magma twisting inside of him, the soreness in his legs that nagged him usually was non-existent as the pleasure flooded through his blood, the chase for his climax was the only thing important now.

“Baby… V, you’re so good… please…”

Please, what, love? What could you be asking for now? To cum again? Already? Did he feel that good to her?

Fuck…

“Touch yourself… I want to watch you touch yourself… insatiable little fox…”

His little minx listened like a good girl, fingers quick over her clit as he hips clapped into hers, his balls bouncing against her ass each time.

“Such a good girl… such a beautiful girl…”

He rambled on as he felt his climax growing closer and closer.

“V,” She whined, drawing his attention once more, “The mess… they’ll be back soon… what do we do?”

He figured he’d cum inside, that she could just carry it in those cute shorts until she changed in the back, but the idea wasn't shared it seemed.

“Where do you want it?” he nearly begged feeling himself get close as he imagined where he’d get to cum on his sweet girl.

“My mouth… I swallow it… that way it won’t get anywhere... just tell me when you’re gonna-“

He pulled out of her, his cock throbbing to just about completion. Her request had him feeling like he was going to burst.

“Now! Now, damn it…”

He knelt back on his haunches as he watched her scramble to catch his cum in her mouth and as soon as he saw that waiting tongue, those lips parted and ready for him, he grunted loud as he started to cum. He watched every shot of his load spill into her sweet mouth, whined as she swallowed every bit of it and he sighed as she suckled softly at the head of his cock, as if she were asking for more. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get him hard again.

“Fuck.” V whispered as he watched her lick up the little bit that dripped from the corner of her mouth.

“Hurry and get dressed,” she giggled as she grabbed her clothes and left to change In the bunk area, leaving him to slip back into his pants. He could smell what they had just done in the air and figured it wouldn’t be hard for Dante to figure it out. He'd hoped that everyone else would be ignorant to his recent actions… everyone except Trish. She would definitely know… He’d just spray air freshener and hoped it would help hide it.

Little temptress…

[bi-bard]

This Isn't Goodbye, This is Simply See You Later - Dean Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: This Isn't Goodbye, This is Simply See You Later

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word Count: 1,014 words

Warning(s): break-up

Summary: (Inspired by "see you later (ten years)" by Jenna Raine; Season 6) After letting their relationship grow for a year, (Y/n) and Dean have to face the reality of a part of their lives.

Author's Note: There's going to be a part two to this, don't worry. I've already got it planned.

PART TWO HERE

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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It wasn't until I started almost jumping for my phone that I realized how much of my life Dean had taken over.

We spent about a year together in peace. Happy, calm, great. I was in love. There was no doubt in my mind.

However, after about a year, Dean started taking off more. He would be gone for days to weeks at a time. He refused to tell me what he was doing on those trips, just that he worked with his brother.

After another work trip, Dean called me. He was on his way back.

I felt a pit in my stomach.

After my realization of Dean's control over my life, I had to decide to talk to him about everything. I was spending all of my time waiting for him, but I had no idea why. I love him, but there was very clearly something he was hiding from me.

How long could I wait in this weird state of not knowing?

I was sitting on my couch, leg bouncing as I tried to think of how I was going to word this.

"(Y/n)," I looked toward the front door as it opened.

Dean walked in and smiled at me. He closed the door and dropped his duffel bag onto the floor.

"Hey," I said, standing up.

He made his way over to me and pulled me into a hug. I grinned as I hugged him back.

"I missed you," he muttered, pulling back to kiss me gently.

"I missed you too," I replied.

My stomach was doing constant flips and I felt any sense of confidence I had previously dying.

"Are you alright," Dean asked. "You seem... lost?"

"Um, yeah," I stepped back, letting him grab my hands as I did. "I just... we need to talk about something."

"Okay..."

He walked over to the couch with me.

We both sat next to each other in silence for a minute. I struggled to find my wording. How was I supposed to start this conversation?

"Hey," Dean grabbed my hand again. "You can tell me anything. What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, "Where do you go?"

"What?"

"When you leave," I continued. "Where do you go?"

"I... well," he forced a chuckle. He started avoiding eye contact.

"Dean," I sighed. "We've been together for over a year. I deserve to know. I'm the one waiting for you whenever you head out on those trips."

He let out a breath. His smile dropped before he looked back at me.

"Well?"

"You aren't going to believe me."

"Try me."

"I... My brother and I hunt monsters," he said.

"Like bounty hunters?"

"No, real monsters," he corrected. "Demons, ghosts, vampires."

"I really don't appreciate you making a joke of this-"

"I'm not," Dean cut me off.

He stood up and held out his hand. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I have one way to prove this to you without putting you in danger," he explained. "Please?"

I reached up and grabbed his hand.

Dean walked me out to his car. He popped open the trunk and opened some secret compartment. There was a symbol painted on the top. There were guns and knives and ammo and wooden stakes.

"This," he handed me a leather-bound journal, "was my dad's. Before he was killed by a demon that also killed my mom."

I opened the cover and flipped through the pages. Scribbled drawings and writing that just seemed to be a rambled string of consciousness.

"So... you and your brother go on trips all around the country just hunting down monsters because... because what? You just can," I asked.

"Well," he shrugged. "My dad raised Sam and me in the life. I... I can't just walk away from it."

I nodded and looked down at the journal again.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to drag you into it," he continued. "I'm sorry."

I just nodded again before handing the journal back to him. I watched him as he put the journal away and closed the trunk.

"Go," I said.

"What?"

"Go," I repeated. "Be with your brother. I... I won't keep you from your life, Dean."

"No, no-"

"Dean," I stopped him. "I don't want to keep you back, but I also don't want to sit here waiting. I can't... I won't watch you run off every few days without knowing you're coming back."

"No, (Y/n), I love you," he cupped the sides of my face.

"I love you too," I said. "Which is why I'm doing this. All I'll do is try to talk you out of your job. I... I can't be in the way."

He didn't reply.

"There's a place for us," I continued, trying to talk through the tears forming in my eyes. "Just... Just not right now. And that's okay."

Dean leaned in and kissed me again. I grinned against his lips for a moment before placing a hand on his chest. I gently pushed him back.

Without another word, Dean went inside and grabbed his bag off of the floor. As he threw it into the backseat, I wiped my eyes.

It was for the best, I kept thinking. It's best for him.

He pulled me into a hug before he left.

"If you ever do walk away," I mumbled to him. "I'll be here. Just gotta find me."

He chuckled, "Okay."

There was a pause. Neither one of us wanted to let go. He finally stepped back.

"I love you," Dean said as he walked toward the driver's side of his car.

"I love you too," I replied. "I'll... I'll see you later."

He chuckled and nodded, "See you later."

I didn't let my shell fully crack until his car had pulled out of my driveway. After that, I placed a hand over my mouth and let out a sob.

I knew it was going to be best for him. For the people he helped. But it still hurt.

And it wouldn't truly stop hurting until he found his way back to me.

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Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[blamelessfish]

Tales From the Disquieted World- Weisson

It had been a harsh winter, even in the Green fields surrounding the kingdom of Northbrook. The soil was hard deep into what should have been spring, and crops grew stunted and wilting. For the folk of Northbrook the cellars were empty and the hunting was lean. Many had starved. For the Runehorn tribe, it had been as all winters were. The Minotaurs took what they needed, through trade or through force. Even in a winter harsher than any in memory, their bellies were full with the flesh of wild beasts, and the flesh of hornless ones and their livestock. Erlock was a winterborn, and so as the winter passed, he set to the task of carving his javelins from the bones of wolves the tribe had hunted. Wolf-Bone. All the better to seek his prey. Everyone knew the best way to hurt a beast was with its own weapons. When the spring had come, and the Bleeding Sun rose high in the center of the sky, his javelins were ready. He’d always had a talent at carving, and so the javelins were carved with the runes for flight, speed, and potency, copied from coal drawings Tuk’Tu had shown him. Erlock’s javelin bag was made by Gekra, a cow who had reached maturity the year before him. Her own wolf-hunt had been successful, but as Tuk’Tu’s daughter, she was following his ways to become the next shaman. She’d covered it with runes of Protection and Spirit Warding, stitched into the leather with care. 

The day of Erlock’s hunt, his father, Weis, had pulled him aside. “You hunt alone today, son,” he said in the thick tongue of the minotaur. “Do so wisely, and with care. Don’t let your horns get too big for your head,” he said. Weis, for his part, was missing one of his horns. It had been shattered by the ogre Fregir, though Weis had thrown him down afterwards. His other horn was etched with the runes of battles that had defined him. Only the Ogre was enough glory to be named. His loincloth depicted their struggle, Fregir clutching Weis’ broken horn as he fell from the peak of Uterger.

“I won’t, father,” Erlock said.

“I know.” Weis looked over the fields. The Runehorns had camped on a plateau overlooking the Wolf Fields, which were littered with the permanent dwellings of the hornles ones. The fields also had patches of thick trees and bushes, which helped to obscure the fields along with the crops the Hornless Ones grew. “Your brother will be carrying my Javelins soon,” he said. “And not long after that, he will be hunting alongside you.”

“So it is,” Erlock said.

“So it is,” Weis said, “and so it will be.” There was a moment of quiet. “Your mother would be proud of the Bull you’ve become, Erlock. You speak with conviction and act with purpose. You are a good son of the Great Bull.”

“As I was taught to be.” Weis smiled at that. There was a sudden breeze, and the charms of tooth and claw rattled. Each was carved with a protective rune. Each was seized from dead foes. “And I know she is proud,” Erlock said, “of all of us.” Weis nodded. Another few moments passed in silence, and they watched the sun bleed over the land as it always did.

“You should go to Tuk’Tu,” Weis finally said. “I am sure he has rites that must be performed.”

So he did. Erlock sat on the floor of his tent, surrounded by the strange things Tuk’Tu collected. First, he and Gekra spent a good portion of the morning pain-stakingly painting runes onto his fur with a thick, tar-like paint. It smelled acrid and smokey. “Do not go into fire,” Tuk’Tu warned. “This will catch easier than even our fur.” Erlock had grunted his acknowledgement, keeping an eye on Gekra as she worked. Her loincloth depicted the Great Bull, one hand holding his great axe, Undetra, the other holding the bleeding sun. His piercing red eye seemed fixed on Erlock. She painted the runes on his snout and his face, while Tuk’Tu painted his back.

“You will finally be a hunter,” she said.

“I will.” She smiled.

“I’m sure you will bring us much bounty, Erlock, son of Weis.” He smiled as well.

“That I will, Gekra, daughter of Tuk’Tu.” They passed the time with small talk as they finished painting his arms and legs. On his chest, they painted the eye of the Bull to witness his deeds. By the time all the runes had been painted, it was evening.

“Leave us, Gekra,” Tuk’Tu said. She bowed her head and left. Tuk’Tu removed a pipe from a bag on one of the tables, and handed it to Erlock after lighting it with a firestick he struck on the table. “Smoke,” he said. “It will ease your soul for what is to come.” Erlock obeyed, and Tuk’Tu continued to speak. “You are to hunt for the tribe, Erlock, Son of Weis, and so you take the trial of the Wolf on this night. Do you take this trial of your own free will?”

“I do,” Erlock said. The herb was affecting him now, and his own voice seemed somehow distant.

“Do you do so with the Glory of the Bull and the love of the tribe in your heart?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to fight always for the tribe, and never to turn against your kin, unless your hand is forced?”

“I do.”

“Prepare yourself. May the Bull and the spirits walk with you.” Tuk’Tu began to sing as Erlock sat still, his eyes closed. As he listened to the song, he found his heart beginning to race, his muscles tightening with something akin to rage, and his senses focussing to a razor’s edge. He stood fully, a haze descending over his thoughts. A low bray escaped his lips, rumbling the dirt beneath their hooves. Tuk’Tu said something, but Erlock wasn’t paying attention. He was already leaving the tent, and looking to the rapidly setting sun. He inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the scents of a world reviving itself. He heard the tribe playing their pipes, and one of the Hearthguard said something as he passed. He did not care what it was. Violence had seized him, burning and aching in his muscles, and he needed to find a place to put it.

Erlock moved swiftly through the dying evening, seeking his quarry. The dark as it came only changed the world to blacks and whites, even in the darkest of places. With a full moon like that night’s, he could see as though he were a No Horns during the day. He followed a trail, smelling something bestial and potent that had walked it. One of his javelins was freed before he even consciously registered the movement behind a bush. It smelled of rage and fury. It smelled of something big, and powerful. Erlock grinned. It smelled of prey. He loosed his javelin, hearing it strike flesh. He was getting another as the bear lunged, the javelin jutting from its right shoulder. His strike had been unlucky, and he’d not even wounded it enough to give it a limp. Erlock jumped to the side as the bear ripped through the space he’d occupied, the sound of its breathing filling his ears, the heat of its breath like fire on his skin. He lunged forward, burying his second javelin deep in its flank. It roared, and turned on him, swinging a paw. Instead of cuffing his head, which would have surely snapped his neck and killed him, the bear caught his arm, breaking it with ease. Erlock didn’t understand what had happened at first, the pain simply not registering. He did understand that his arm wasn’t working. He brayed with fury and slammed his head into the bear’s side as it turned. His horns tore muscle and caught on bone. He roared, and shoved. The bear rolled, paws to the sky, as Erlock pulled a javelin free with his good hand. The bear pushed him away, and he landed on his broken arm. That registered, and he hissed with pain that fed further into his fury. Erlock lunged forward again, the bear fleeing and leaving a thick trail of blood behind it. He caught it in the back leg, tearing something important, because the bear howled and fell. The noises it made reminded him of a frightened calf, hearing the story of the Maze for the first time. Erlock flipped it again, and drove his javelin into its heart with a single massive thrust. It groaned weakly, and pawed at him, ripping open his side with a flailing strike. Erlock twisted, blood geysering from the wound like the vents in the Everice near the flesh cliffs. The blood was thick with the stink of iron, and the smell of its life draining away hit Erlock like a wave. He looked down at the dead bear. “Thank you,” he said. He was aware of the others approaching. He could smell them, and hear them crossing the grass.

“Quite a hunt,” Ettrai said from behind him.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Erlock said. Two more hunters stepped forward, ready to carry the bear. Ettrai gestured to Erlock’s arm, and the bleeding gashes in his side.

“Will you be okay?” he asked.

“I will see Tuk’Tu,” Erlock said, his breathing shallow. Whatever magic Tuk’Tu had weaved was fading, and pain was returning to him. His arm ached, and the wounds on his side felt like fire. Erlock wiped his javelin on the bear’s fur, and put it in his bag before ripping his second one free from the bear’s shoulder and wiping it as well. Ettrai wrapped an arm around Erlock as he doubled over in pain, and helped to support him.

“Stand tall,” Ettrai said. “The Bull always watches.”

“Kneel for no-one,” Erlock said. Erlock and his uncle walked back to the camp as the bear was carried behind him.

Erlock growled as the bandage was tightened around his chest. “Cease your whining,” Gekra said. “Fixing your arm will be worse.” Without warning, he gripped his arm and pulled. There was a crack, and Erlock screamed. She was gentler when she wrapped his arm, stabilizing it with a splint of bone. “Father will tend to your arm as he sees fit.” She sat next to him on the cot. He surrendered his horns to her, as she used specially crafted tools to slowly etch the rune of Bear into the base of his right horn. As his first noteworthy kill, it would define him. Candles flickered in the tent, illuminating the various scrolls and leatherworking tools Gekra had in her tent. Erlock rested his head on her shoulder, careful not to put his horns in her face. She rested her head on his.

“I am tired,” he said.

“I’m sure,” she said. “They’re calling you ‘the Bear,’ now.”

“Who is?”

“The others. Thera, Grenah. They want you to put a brass ring around their horn.” Erlock scoffed.

“Thera is lazy, and Grenah spends far too much time eating grass with Eryk.” Gekra chuckled.

“Do you plan to put a brass ring around someone’s horn?”

“One day,” he said plainly. Tuk’Tu entered the tent, Weis close behind him. Tuk’Tu was holding a steaming bowl, and Weis was holding an axe. Erlock stood, groaning as he did. Tuk’Tu examined the bandaging, and the bracing on his arm.

“Well done,” he said to Gekra. Gekra nodded. Tuk’Tu turned to Erlock. “You are a hunter of beasts, of monsters, as your mother was.” Erlock thought for a moment.

“I see,” he finally said. Tuk’Tu handed him the bowl.

“Drink of this blood,” he said. Erlock obeyed. It was rich, and Erlock felt it invigorating him. He handed back the bowl, and Tuk’Tu nodded at his arm. “See?” The pain had faded from Erlock's arm, and he glanced at it. He didn't notice any change. “The Great Bull’s magic is thick in you.” Erlock nodded again, and started to move his arm. Pain shot through him again. “The Essence of your enemies will invigorate you,” Tuk’Tu said, “but give it a day or two.” Erlock nodded. Weis handed him the axe. It was centered with a dragon, the wings spreading out to form the blade, its tail forming a spike that protruded from the back of the axe. The blade was etched with the monsters the last hunter had slain, from manticores and chimeras to giants and cyclops. 

“This was your mother’s,” he said. “Now it’s yours.” Weis patted his shoulder. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he said. He and Tuk’Tu left, and Erlock sat down next to Gekra again, examining the axe.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. 

“It is,” he agreed, and handed it to her. “I’ll grant it purpose.”

Erlock woke the next morning, his body aching from the hunt. He rolled out of his bedroll and stood. The axe leaned against the wall of his tent was one of his few possessions, aside from his drinking horn, which had been made from his mother’s left horn. He tucked it into his belt. Erlock picked up the axe and slung it, and slung his javelins on his side. He walked through the camp, his breath steaming in the cold morning air. The cold air stung on his side, the wounds burning like fire, and his arm had a dull ache like a deep bruise. A few of the other minotaurs were awake, and had started cooking remnants from the hunt. Calves were playing in a nearby field, overseen by two of the Hearthguard, their spears ever ready. Most of the Hearthguard were rotating out, some going to sleep on the wagons, others taking the time to take off their armor, which was etched with the runes of the Bull, and wash themselves before bed. Erlock sat on a stone, and looked over the Wolf Fields below them. A breeze washed over him, carrying the scent of Spring with it. He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. He could feel the pull of the Migration beginning, and knew it wouldn’t be long before they packed again. He could smell flowers blooming on the wind, and the forests around the fields. He heard someone approaching, but didn’t open his eyes, allowing the warmth of the Bleeding Sun to wash over him. “Good morning to you,” Gekra said, and sat down next to him. “How are your wounds?”

“”Fine,” he said. “It is simply pain.” He heard her grunt in acknowledgement, and he opened his eyes. She was looking at him intently. “Do you doubt me?”

“No,” she said, “but I am going to check your wounds and apply a poultice.” Erlock raised his arms and allowed her to unbandage his torso. He winced as he raised his arm, fresh pain shooting through him. “How is your arm?” He looked past her, watching the tribe packing the community still. They were bottling the beverages, most likely for trade. 

“It hurts,” he said.

“I imagine, especially because my father told you not to move it.”

“I thought you wanted to change the bandages,” Erlock said.

“Of course,” she said, “I’m not here to eat grass, but I can manage without you raising your hands above your head like you’re going to polish your horns.” Erlock chuckled as she unbandaged him, and lowered his arms. She was smiling, and shaking her head. She took the poultice out of a pouch on the belt holding up her loincloth. “There’s a minor infection,” she said, and put the poultice on it. “It could be worse, all things considered.” The poultice stung badly, and Erlock winced. “Don’t be such a calf,” she said. “We’re all done. Let me re-wrap it.” She took new bandages out from a second pouch. “Have you given any thought to a partner?” she asked, almost conversationally. Erlock said nothing for a moment, before she finished tying the bandage, and leaned back, examining her handiwork. “Like I said, if you don’t choose someone, you’ll be putting the brass ring around a stranger’s horn.” Erlock laughed.

“I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem,” he said.

“Why’s that?” she asked. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

“I do, and she deserves a better ring than just brass.” Gekra raised an eyebrow, and fixed him with a steely gaze, her brown eyes seeming to pierce into him.

“Does she now?” She asked slowly. Erlock nodded, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, you do.” There was a moment of quiet, before she laughed at him. Erlock blinked in confusion. Eventually, she put a hand on his shoulder as well, and tapped his horns with hers.

“I do,” she agreed, “if you think so. Though I would take a wooden ring.” Erlock snorted, and stood.

“I am a hunter of beasts. I will put no wooden ring on a horn.”

“How long?” Gekra asked. Erlock thought for a moment as he looked over the Wolf Fields. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, buying time to think.

“I started to suspect a year or so ago, at the last Sending.” Erlock nodded.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think back on our time together as calves and you’ve always been there. I see your smile and hear your laugh,” he shrugged, wincing as pain washed down his broken arm. “That’s enough for me.” Gekra laughed, and stood as well.

“It’ll have to be enough, I suppose.” She brushed down the fur on her legs, the weights on the bottom of her loincloth clattering as she did. She patted his back. “I’ll see you tonight.” Erlock nodded, and stood watching the fields as she left. Below, he could see the no-horns gathering, mounted on horses, chasing wolves. Even from almost a mile away, he could hear the pained yips and howls. He left to get his breakfast.

[i-am-nickelbolt]

Bronze to Mythic: Wilds of Eldraine, draft #4

Deck was sweet, played bad, went 3-3.

Pack 1 pick 1 kind of an interesting pack. Forced Fruition, which I think kind of sucks, it's just way too bad against the aggressive decks, and if you're behind you just spent six mana not affecting the board. Restless Vinestalk, which I think is good, but also pretty slow. I ended up taking Torch the Tower over Woodland Acolyte, hoping to wheel maybe a Rat Out or Evolving Wilds. Pick 2 Candy Grapple over Cooped Up and some medium red cards and an Evolving Wilds. Pick 3 was pretty bad, Two-Headed Hunter over Hollow Scavenger. Pick 4 was also pretty bad, Hopeless Nightmare over Kellan's Light Blades. Pick 5 I took Mintstrosity over Flick a Coin, Redcap Thief, and Ratcatcher Trainee, mostly because it's a 2 Drop. There was also a Glass Casket and a Hopeful Vigil, so maybe white was open. Pick 6 Brave the Wilds, which I just think is such a premium spell. It's a 1-mana 3/3 haste that lets you trade it in early to fix your mana. Pick 7 a late Cooped Up and now I'm feeling emboldened to go 5-color. Pick 8 Hamlet Glutton basically says fixing over everything at this point. I wheel 2 Flick a Coins, a Scarecrow Guide, and a Johann's Stopgap. Not a bad pack 1. All cheap removal, some fixing, and an under-costed giant trampler with lifegain

Pack 2 pick 1 Hatching Plans. I have 5 bargain cards I am 100% playing and 2 packs left to get more. Pick 2 Stab Wound over Bitter Chill, which I think is probably a mistake. I think Stab Wound is a little overrated, especially in decks that aren't racing. Pick 3 another Cooped Up. Pick 4 Gingerbread Hunter, hell yeah. Pick 5 Quick Study. Pick 6 Frantic Firebolt. Pick 7 Spell Stutter over Frantic Firebolt. I've got a glut of 3s, and counterspells are exactly what this deck wants. Pick 8 Spell Stutter over Feed the Cauldron for similar reasons. The rest of the pack was pretty much junk, I am getting a little nervous about my mana situation.

Pack 3 pick 1 a very sad Ferocious Werefox, but in hindsight I should have taken Neva, Stalked by Nightmares since it can rebuy enchantments and I've got Cooped Up, Stab Wound and Hatching Plans. Pick 2 Archive Dragon, thank you! Pick 3 a sad Redcap Thief. Pick 4 Candy Trail over Hamlet Glutton and Quick Study. I've already got enough 5s and strangely 3 mana for scry 2 draw gain 3 is I think better than just draw 2, especially when you can scry lands on turn 1. Pick 5 Hollow Scavenger, but pick 6? Up the Beanstalk! That's feels like a pick-six if you get the football reference. A Crystal Grotto rounded out the pack.

I love this deck, even though the mana is a little shaky, this is how you fight the aggro decks. Lots of cheap removal, cheap card draw, and large, hard to interact with finishers that also provide value.

My first loss was to UB faeries. I messed up combat against a Screampuff pretty badly. They had Likeness Looter to immediately copy the dead Screampuff and then also had Talion's Messenger, which is like the 4th time I've lost to that card. I let this game get away from me.

My second loss was to URG where I misread Food Fight and made another bad block. I thought Food Fight only did # of Food Fights damage, not 1+. So when I tried to pump my blocker they blew me out. Then I untapped and double Flicked their 3/2 to try to make something back from the mistake, but they had the hexproof trick, and that was just game. Really should have not lost like that.

My 3rd loss was also to URG that I ended up decking myself. The game went very long and my opponent was dead to rights and I just bricked turn after turn after turn. I think I would have won if Gingerbread Hunter wasn't the exact bottom card of my library. These are the kind of games where you feel like you missed one little piece of advantage, like a mana you didn't use on one turn or a trade you could have made, or conversely shouldn't have made.

Definitely deserved the 3-3, I played bad. But this deck was awesome and I'll be drafting more of this style of deck for sure!

[stingslikeabee]

“who did this to you?”

send “who did this to you?” for the sender to find the receiver injured and demand to know who did it . accepting

Enok was no stranger to meetings in ordinary taverns on the fringes of small towns - it was what needed to be done if they hoped to be confused with regular travelers and avoid drawing the attention of bounty hunters, other men engaged in Enok’s own trade and even those from the army of Melissa’s own kingdom. A missing queen was not something she could sustain for long, after all - one would run away of classified diplomatic missions confidential meetings soon enough.

Her powers were associated to manipulation and deceit, some would claim; the ability to charm and mess with a person’s memories (and feelings by extension). And although Melissa hardly needed these given how normal she looked outside the royal finery and crown jewels, on that afternoon the woman hadn’t been so lucky.

Some individuals were just more naturally resistant to her suggestions - and the pair of drunk friends who decided that they could have some fun with the lady traveler were not immediately stopped by her calm recommendation in terms of doing otherwise. It got rather ugly - to the point a hand found the royal’s neck and the queen struggled to breathe, potentially due to the alcohol - perhaps her magic (or witchcraft, some would say) did not perform as well on those who were already under the influence of something else.

The daughter of the tavern owner came to her rescue - a frying pan over the head did wonders to make the more aggressive man pass out, and his companion was too inebriated to fight (and win) the surprise assailant. Leaving his companion behind and running away, Melissa breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally gone and then quietly thanked the girl - ensuring she would forget the foreign queen’s face soon enough but not before buying a decent amount of good as a token of gratitude.

By the time Enok found her table, she had meat for more than a party of one (not to mention ale, too, which she had no intention of touching). But at the man’s soft whisper of concern and startled look, the monarch felt something warm in her chest. As difficult as their situation was and considering she thought the witch hunter to dislike her for having unwittingly dragged him into an impossible conundrum... He sounded genuinely worried.

“A couple of inebriated guests. They are long gone,” Melissa assured him, and moved to adjust the scarf over her shoulders, seeking to cover most of the bruises left behind, “I have learned that those with more alcohol than blood in their veins tend to be less susceptible to my skills. I guess I would be perfectly harmless in certain parts of the country,” she snorted, with little but sincere humor in her words.

If the queen had only known it took so little to build a resistance - perhaps Melissa would have spent less of her time wondering the extent of the damage she had inflicted on others.

[s1st3r]

How would the bad batch react to having a shy s/o?

Omigosh I squealed when I got this!!! I love these kind of asks! Thank you!!! I spent so long writing this, I haven't proof read it. 😬

Bad Batch Reacting to Shy Significant Other (s/o)

Tech

I feel like it's fanon that flirting goes right over Tech's head even when it's explicitly like "hey tech you're hot". And honestly, I see it. So with that in mind, it takes an even longer spell of mutual pining than usual before feelings are confessed and relationship is established. But to save you from that 100K word torture, we'll go for an established relationship here.

Tech finds his s/o's shy nature a really nice contrast to his loud abrasive brothers. It's honestly like a breath of fresh air to him. When he wants peace and quite, he always goes to his s/o.

Having said that, his s/o is also a fantastic listener, so sometimes he'll run up to them super excited and giddy with information. Unlike his brothers, his s/o has the time to listen.

Having a shy s/o also helps Tech develop much better social skills. He gets so much better at reading body language since sometimes his s/o is either too shy or too content to listen to his voice to interrupt him when they're tired or sick.

He doesn't really dot over his s/o but Tech definitely loves to just be in their presence.

The only time his s/o is really loud is when they're super proud. Tech will build something in record time that saves the team and his s/o would be like "YEAH! THAT'S MY MAN!" and plant a phat kiss on his lips in front of all his brothers. Both Tech and s/o immediately go silent and wide eyed as the adrenaline fades and his s/o realises they have an audience. Tech's face would glow a gorgeous red while his s/o smiles shyly at everyone as they laugh at their enthusiasm.

Hunter

Again with Hunter, and really all the boys I reckon, his s/o's shyness is a really sweet relief from the high volume he deals with on a regular basis.

What Hunter loves about his s/o, is they often express their love through just helping out and doing anything they can to make Hunter's job a little easier. There's a wordless exchange of just Hunter and his s/o looking after each other and loving each other through acts and service. Kind of like an "actions speak louder then words thing".

His s/o’s not quite so bold as to explicitly say how much they love him, and they're not always confident enough to initiate any physical affection, but Hunter knows. He knows what it means and it does not go unappreciated.

S/o's shy nature also seems to draw Omega's curiosity. Over time, it's actually Meg who ends up bringing Hunter's s/o out of their shell a little more which he finds so sweet. He loves that those two get along so well.

I think Hunter would also be a lot more protective over a shy s/o as well. He would also very quickly learn to be more gentle.

The moments in between chaotic missions when his s/o just plays with his hair gives Hunter life.

Wrecker

OH MY GOODNESS! He's Like So GeNtLe???

Sometimes he might tease his s/o a little "awww you're not gonna go all shy on me again are ya?!!". But he honestly thinks it's so cute.

Wrecker is a pretty giving guy, so I feel like he would always be showering his s/o with compliments but just never expecting them back.

Until one day his s/o does compliment him back and he just lights up and lets out a hoot of laughter as he picks them off their feet and squeezes them in a tight hug which makes his s/o giggle.

I kind of see him being as gentle with his s/o as he is with Omega.

He's always so encouraging. Whether his s/o wants to try new things like going out dancing or just stay in the Marauder and have a snuggled up holovid night, Wrecker is always onboard.

Now, usually Wrecker is quite loud but, whenever his s/o talks, he just goes so quiet. He loves the sound of his s/o's voice and doesn't want to miss it.

He also loves cuddles. Sometimes his s/o is too shy to ask, but when they just stand in front of his bunk silently, he knows it's a silent request for cuddles. He'll scoop them up and wrap them with love.

Echo

I think being the only reg in the bad batch would make Echo feel kind of lonely sometimes. He's different from the regs but also from tbb. So with that in mind, I think Echo would find great comfort and companionship in a s/o.

His shy s/o is such a good listener and becomes his confidant.

Echo's character has also given me shy vibes from time to time so I feel like there might be some similarities of character?

I think Echo is also quite good at reading people and emotion so often he just knows when his s/o is sad/tired/sick/etc. which is good since his s/o is sometimes too shy to divert any attention to themselves.

Echo often seems to put on a bit of a tough guy persona to fit in with the bad batch, but with his s/o, that all fades away. His s/o's genuine attitude encourages him to be himself again. Sometimes he'll act similar to how he was before the citadel.

He speaks softer and seems happier with his s/o.

I think both Echo and his s/o would also be quite reserved and shy with physical affection. Their relationship is probably predominately emotional. But every now and then, they share little kisses on the cheeks or a peck on the lips. And honestly? Echo couldn't ask for anything better.

Crosshair

Crosshair has always been more of an introvert, so being in a relationship was never going to be a smooth transition. I think at first Crosshair would find his s/o's shyness annoying. But their gentle demeanor would grow on him over time. (This is before they were together).

Eventually he'd find himself spending more and more time with his s/o, enjoying being in their presence as he writes reports or cleans his blaster. And before he knows it he's got this (kinda nice feeling?) weird feeling in his stomach and actually even stumbled over his words once when speaking to them.

Once they finally get together, I feel like (similar to Hunter) he would be super protective of his s/o too.

Crosshair also isn't much for words, so when he wants his s/o's attention he'll kind of like h o v e r . Which his s/o finds so cute.

Eventually though, he'll run out of patience if his s/o doesn't respond so he'll just start getting really snuggly and touchy until his s/o finally caves and gives him attention.

His expressions and voice are always softer towards his s/o. His brothers notice but know better than to bring it up.

~ Sister

[dourpeep]

Something fluffy? Okay how about married life with Xiao or Albedo?

-archonssun ☀️

Ahhhh yes, the crops have been watered and the sun has arrived (ha get it)

What if I do?

Summary: A glimpse into eternity. Featuring Xiao and Albedo.

Contains: Character x reader, domesticity, married, established relationship, fluff

Albedo

For the most part, married life is normal

Perhaps there's a few more shared kisses and he'll slip his hand to intertwine with yours when you stroll around the city

By now, you've both settled into a comfortable rhythm, rising early to the smell of coffee and breakfast cooking and the sight of Albedo in his sleepwear and bedhead

He'll greet you with a smile and kiss your temple as you ask what he'd be up to, then tilt his head while he asks if you'll be busy as well

After breakfast, you'll both get ready for the day and head to work

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

This draws a chuckle from the alchemist, eyes lit up with mirth.

"Sound advice coming from you," He teases, one brow raised as he gives you a nudge. "Did you not take on a commission with four ruin hunters?"

It's sweet, really, married life with him

Since you're both pretty busy through the day, communication is important

He's a more willing person to initiate communication because not knowing is uncomfortable and knowing means that he won't have to worry so much about your connection weakening (though considering you're married, you tell him he doesn't need to worry)

Albedo would come back with his usual spiel on the importance of maintaining relationships

Another thing is he often gets ahead of himself, you're there to help balance that out, to help pace him so that he's able to keep up with his own thoughts while not being stuck in one place

He'd do the same, providing his unique insight and commentary should you need it, any time you need it

There's a good balance of responsibilities as well and while Albedo tends to be a bit unaware, he's become exceptionally good at reading you

Those days that you're feeling out of it, he'll leap into action (whether or not that is literally depends on his mood) and ask whether you need confirmation or attention or just an ear

Of course, speaking of lending an ear, he often will ramble about something on his mind

So if you're into deep topics and random bouts of information, this would only enhance the experience of married life

A downside, though, is Albedo tends to be a bit messy (both workspace and thought-wise)

"Where did I put-"

You walk over to him from his desk after picking up the book he was sure he placed on the shelf. Shoulders slumping, he takes it from you. A puzzled expression crosses his face and you have to hold back a laugh. For the next few hours, he works on tidying his home workspace.

As always, in the next few days, the space returns to it's usual messiness.

He'll make a passing comment about the inevitability of entropy, both embarrassed and uncertain about how the mess happens.

Regardless, married life with Albedo is, overall, cozy

It's a type of soft normalcy that's hardly different from when you two settled into dating and neither of you would trade it for the world

Xiao

Married life is something that's entirely foreign

He tends to push people away in favor or being alone whether it be due to not wanting to burden others or the wish for solitude

But you?

When he can't imagine a reality where mornings weren't spent slipping into bed with you after a long night, just to watch you peacefully breath

Being married makes him realize how much he's missed by removing himself so far from everything

In the early morning, the sky still dark, he quietly lays beside you, mind and heart at ease to know you're safe here. It's strange, the feeling that spreads to warm him. He lies there, closing his eyes to the soft sound of your breathing, allowing himself a moment of peace.

Xiao has a bit of a difficult time adjusting to this new schedule

After a few weeks of not quite knowing what to do, he'll pull you close for a kiss before he departs, seeking you out when he returns for those lovely moments of quiet company

Communication is a hit or miss, though, so it's all the more better if you're more proactive with that

But you can certainly still count on him to be there for you when you need him

After all, he trusts you so greatly and loves you with all his being so it's only natural that he wants to show that he's worthy of your trust and love back

His favorite development of married life would probably be those little moments that you're both relaxing (for once) with his head in your lap and one of your hands in his hair

It's funny to think such a small thing could make the tenseness of his shoulders and the weight of his karmic debt melt away for a time

Xiao can't cook though, if that matters

And when he does try, he gets impatient and frustrated

So ideally, either you cook or provide a lot of assistance (please)

On the bright side, he learns quickly and will put in the effort to surprise you once in a while even if his attempts aren't restaurant-quality

“You don’t have to eat it.”

Xiao tries to take the plate back but the bite on the spoon already makes it into your mouth. He tenses. But when you brighten up, so does he. Relaxing, a flush passes over his cheeks at your compliments and smile, deciding that the effort that cooking requires isn't...too tedious.

In a relationship in general, Xiao will seek out your affection

Little touches of your hands, a kiss on the cheek, just the idea of being in close proximity to you appeals to him

While he shows his love through his actions and protection, he decides that he likes how natural it feels to show it through physical intimacy

Often, he'll pull you closer and place his chin on your shoulder

Overall, married life with Xiao is a bit of a journey, trying to find out what works best for you

But certainly, being the one privy to the entirety of his softness is worth it

[separatist-apologist]

Hey ! Could you write a little one-shot (or Multiple if you are feeling it) of Elain being super jealous that Lucien is getting attention from other females? I feel like she would be super territorial and I really think you could run with it!

I'M SO EXCITED! I've always wanted someone to send me a prompt! Tell me what you think!!!!

You wanted to keep this a secret, Elain reminded herself, sipping the too-sweet drink in front of her. It was her mantra; she’d live and die by those words. You wanted to keep this a secret. Everything was too new with Lucien, too fragile and Elain didn’t want a million eyes watching her every step while they very carefully courted. She didn’t need any extra opinions, especially after the heated evening they’d spent kissing in his apartment. Lucien was so rarely in Velaris to begin with that no one batted an eye when he did arrive and she just so happened to have errands to run.

You wanted to keep this a secret, she thought a third time as Mor dropped beside her, sweaty from dancing. They’d all gone to Rita’s and though both Elain and Lucien had tried to make their excuses, Feyre was not taking no for an answer, and Rhysand and Cassian had somehow convinced Lucien to join them. She could see Lucien across the room, leaned up against the mahogany bar holding a glass between two fingers. She’d noticed how well fitted his dark pants were, giving the whole bar a perfect view of his thighs, his ass, his everything if she was being honest. He’d removed his cream-colored jacket to drape it over the back of a nearby chair, revealing a hunter green shirt that was just as well-fitted, tucked neatly into his pants and buttoned politely up to his neck. The color off-set his thick, red hair that fell down his back, framing lovely, golden skin and a too wide smile.

A smile not directed at her, but a blonde woman who was standing just a little too close. She was laughing at whatever Lucien said, head tipped back. Elain bit back her scowl. He wasn’t that funny, she grumbled.

“Want to dance?” Mor interrupted Elain’s musing, unaware of her thoughts. “You look lonely.” Elain tore her eyes from Lucien to look down at the pink drink in her hand. “This isn’t my kind of dancing,” she admitted.

Feyre joined Mor, wiping her sweaty hair off her flushed face. “Have you seen Rhys?” She asked, swaying slightly despite being seated. “I lost him on the dance floor.”

“He’s right there,” Mor replied, gesturing in Lucien’s direction. Elain turned again, irritated to see a brunette had joined the laughing blonde and was touching Lucien’s arm. Elain’s vision went red for a moment. Touching, her brain screamed, demanding retribution. Elain looked back at the wood grain table, allowing the thrumming music to wash over her. To calm her.

You wanted to keep this a secret.

“Lucien’s popular tonight,” Feyre giggled, drawing Elain’s attention back to the bar. A third woman, another blonde, was at his side, her finger practically in his drink. Lucien seemed utterly oblivious to the attention. What was he talking about?

Mor waved a hand dismissively. “Rita’s is always a little too excited when Lucien comes in.”

Feyre giggled wildly. “Because he’s Autumn Court?”

“You hush right now,” Mor warned, her brown eyes flashing. “But yeah, I think so.”

Elain blinked. “Why would it matter if he’s Autumn Court?”

Feyre burst out laughing while Mor choked on her drink. Elain didn’t dare look back over at Lucien even as embarrassment flooded through her. She was obviously missing something, some kind of insider knowledge about Autumn Court or Lucien that everyone else knew.

“Rita’s doesn’t see a lot of Autumn Court, that’s all,” Mor told Elain kindly even as her red lips twitched with amusement. Feyre was laughing so hard she slid from her chair, drink sloshing all over her tight, black dress. Mor sighed, exasperated, and hauled Feyre back into her seat.

“What’s got her in such a good mood?” Cassian grinned, sitting beside Elain, one muscular arm draped over the back of her wooden chair.

“Lucien,” Mor replied, nodding her head in Lucien’s direction. Cassian looked over Elain’s head, his grin widening.

“Good for him.”

Elain bit back her scowl, practically double-taking when she caught the fourth woman resting her forearm on Lucien’s shoulder. All of them were laughing like they were in a comedy club. She clenched her hands so hard her nails bit into her palm.

“We were explaining to Elain that Lucien is always popular at Rita’s, right, Cassian?” Mor asked, though Elain barely heard her over the roaring of blood in her ears.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I think it’s the—”

“The fire in his blood?” Feyre interrupted, choking on her laughter. Elain looked up at Cassian just in time to catch him roll hazel eyes.

“He’s hot, no fire needed,” Mor swept in quickly, cutting off whatever Cassian planned to say. “Which is why there are five females—” “Five?!” Elain screeched, furious at the red head touching his hair.She stood abruptly, nearly knocking her chair into the people sitting behind them. Cassian caught the furniture smoothly with one broad hand.

“Pay up,” Cassian demanded from behind her. Elain didn’t stick around long enough to see what, exactly, Cassian was collecting on. She was seething as she stomped up to Lucien, dripping in women.

“He has a mate,” she informed the group, waving her hands around as though to shoo away birds. Lucien turned, surprise etched into his features, mouth parted to ask her what, exactly, was her problem.

You wanted to keep this a secret. Not anymore, she decided, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss him, both to illustrate her point and stake a claim. Lucien wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand still holding his drink, his kiss enthusiastic if not a tad confused. Elain didn’t care; for a moment she forgot they were in Rita’s at all. Something about him always melted the world around them, made her surroundings an afterthought.

“What happened to keeping this a secret?” He asked, mouth inches from her own.

“I changed my mind,” she told him primly. Lucien arched a brow, both russet and metal eyes roaming down her body slowly before coming back to her face. The women were gone, intimidated by Elain’s possessive show. Good, she thought with satisfaction. She was tempted to stomp towards the front of the dance floor, cut the music, and announce to everyone that Lucien Vanserra had a mate, and the bar needed to stay away from him. Perhaps she’d hang flyers just in case anyone forgot or became too tempted. He was handsome, too handsome for shabby Ritas, she thought smugly.

Mine, she declared, kissing him again.

Lucien peered over her head, a smile dancing on his lips. “I don’t think we were ever a secret, Elain.”

“What? Why do you say that?” She demanded, whirling on her heel when Lucien gestured behind her with his head. Standing beside a card table was Rhysand, grinning like the devil as he handed five women little bags of coins. When he caught her gaping, he smiled, too, holding up his hand to indicate it had taken five women to crack her. Elain narrowed her eyes.

It is so on, she thought loudly, well aware he was listening. Rhysand tipped his head back to laugh.

“Want to get out of here?” Lucien murmured, his lips pressed into her hair. A shiver of anticipation slithered up her spine.

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly.

Lucien brought his glass to his lips, intending to swallow what remained when Elain asked, “Why did Feyre say you were so popular because you were Autumn Court and had fire in your blood?”

Lucien choked, holding his glass away from his chest as he turned to face her younger sister.

“She said what?” He wheezed, hair falling in his face. Elain thumped him on the back.

“She said you were popular with women because—”

He held his hand up to stop her, gulping down air. “Let’s get out of here…I’ll show you what she meant.”

Elain looked up, surprised by how dark his expression had become. Realization dawned. “She meant—”

“Yes. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

[delimeful]

Helpless (2)

the next chapter in the drider virgil fic!

warnings: spiders, slight dehumanizing language, assumptions/jumping to conclusions

-

Logan was certain that he’d tracked down his quarry.

Of course, he’d also been certain the last two times he’d found promising evidence around a swath of woods, but this time was different.

He had learned plenty while traversing through the varied lands of his kingdom, and while physical evidence was ideal, word of mouth was one of the most useful tools a researcher could use to find leads.

That was part of the reason why he’d been so careful to observe typical travelers for weeks before his departure, the reason he was wearing worn, cheap fabric and staying at the second-cheapest room at this town’s inn, despite having plenty of money still hidden on his person. He didn’t want a single rumor about a suspiciously rich noble traveling alone.

The last thing he needed was for his investigative journey to be interrupted by bandits, or worse, would-be do-gooders attempting to return the missing prince to his place in line for the throne.

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the very thought, putting aside the last half of his travel rations and stopping at the edge of town to stare into the woods beyond. He checked his compass habitually, and he was pointed firmly westward, exactly towards the point of the woods that were occupied by a dangerous monster, according to the barkeep that Logan had plied for information last night at supper.

The whole town knew of it, even the younger residents, which was a point in favor of the creature really existing rather than just being another folk tale.

There was one other potential source on the creature, a town outcast going by the way others’ noses wrinkled at the mention of him, but Logan was more than ready to begin investigating for himself, and the odds that the outcast actually knew anything were low, anyhow.

Decided, he headed into the forest, prepared for the day-long trek that was sure to follow. If he was prone to less scientific notations, he might have jotted down that he had a good feeling about this particular town.

Exactly an hour and a half later, Logan had found himself almost entirely immobilized by layers and layers of gossamer threads strewn about the trees.

Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

Even the foolish manner in which he’d landed himself stuck in such an obvious trap couldn’t dampen his spirits, not when faced with undeniable proof that there was in fact a drider in these woods. He’d been too hasty in his attempt to collect some of the biological material, and by yanking too hard, had ended up pulled forwards into the thick of the intricate spider web.

His immobility was a bit concerning, but mostly frustrating, since he couldn’t reach for his journal to note down the surprising level of the webbing’s tensile strength. Still, proper scientists had to be prepared to hold onto their observations for as long as it took for them to be able to write them down.

Besides, he could hardly complain. His current predicament practically guaranteed that he would actually get to see the creature!

-

There was a person stuck in his webs, and Virgil was freaking out about it.

It had never happened before. Virgil very specifically made the webs closer to town thick and opaque so that any passerby would see them and avoid this exact situation.

Virgil peered around the cluster of bushes he had half-flattened himself behind. The stranger didn’t seem too panicked, at least, going by the way that the web barely swayed with his presence. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, which was… admittedly sort of strange.

Skies above, what if this was a trap? Virgil turned his head sharply to scan his surroundings, wary of human hunters suddenly popping out of the undergrowth.

Several moments of silence, and even with all his senses pushed to their farthest, he couldn’t detect anything. It seemed the only one trapped here was the human.

A pang of guilt curled unpleasantly in his first stomach. He grimaced, wishing desperately that Patton was here to mitigate the utter terror Virgil was surely about to inflict on this guy.

No point in drawing it out. He rose up to his full height, grateful that the human had gotten stuck facing the opposite direction, and quietly crept up behind him. All he needed to do was announce his presence and let the human know he wasn’t going to hurt them, but he was immediately distracted at the sight of just how tangled his webs had grown.

“How does one human manage to touch every single support thread at the same time?” he asked, voice incredulous.

The human stiffened, and he couldn’t help but tense in response, cursing his big mouth.

… Really though, he spent hours crafting these, and now this one would have to be completely reconstructed!

“Are you the monster spoken of in town?”

The measured voice snapped Virgil out of his thoughts as easy as a clap of thunder, and he shuffled a bit from side to side nervously. His many steps must have been louder than he’d thought, because the human immediately attempted to twist around and see him.

He failed, naturally, because Virgil’s threads weren’t exactly easy to wriggle free of, but Virgil’s nerves only grew. “I… why do you ask?”

There was a short silence, and then, “Considering my current situation, it’s only natural I would want to know, isn’t it?”

Virgil resisted the urge to wince at his own dumbassery. “Right. Well. Yeah,” he confirmed, already bracing for the fear that nearly every human bore when confronted with him. Even Patton had been afraid at first, though Virgil really thought him braver than any other human, to be so terrified of even normal spiders and befriend a Drider of all creatures.

“Oh, excellent,” the human said with clear excitement. “Would you mind coming around so that I can see you?”

Virgil blinked, befuddled. The last thing most humans wanted was for him to come closer. Maybe it was the natural fear of him being in their blind spot? The guy certainly didn’t sound very afraid, even with Virgil’s less-than-stellar first impression.

“Do you have a weapon?” he asked warily.

“I have a knife,” the stranger offered, “but I can’t exactly reach it at the moment.”

Virgil could see the glint of it, caught bladefirst at the very edge of a web as though it had been used on the threads themselves. He slowly circled around the clearing, watching the stranger closely for any sudden movements, until he stood before him, all eight legs and thorax visible.

“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyes blown wide as they skittered from point to point as though noticing every little detail. Virgil would have thought him afraid had it not been for the prideful little grin that sat on his face. “I thought maybe you were lying to me-- I hadn’t expected you to be so fluent in the common language, living in the woods and all-- but wow!”

Virgil felt his front legs rising up a little bit in an automatic defense against the unexpected reaction. He ran his tongue over his fangs nervously, trying to figure out whether or not he should be insulted about the language thing. And what exactly did this guy mean by ‘expected’?

The stranger’s hands twitched slightly, still stuck firmly in place, and irritation briefly flitted across his face as though he’d forgotten his position. He blinked, as though remembering something.

“Oh, right. Are you planning on trying to consume me, then?” he asked, the question as politely curious as an inquiry about the weather.

Virgil recoiled physically at the idea, skittering back a few strides and baring his fangs despite the difference in size and strength and trapped-ness between the two of them. “What? No!”

The stranger managed to drag his intrigued gaze away from Virgil’s fangs, his hands twitching again almost subconsciously. “In that case, would you mind helping me down? My leg has begun to go numb, and I really would like access to my journal.”

“I-- I mean, yeah, if you aren’t-- I can--,” Virgil stumbled over his words, drawing closer with his body lowered non-threateningly and waiting for the inevitable flinch or shiver of disgust.

It never came. The stranger continued to stare at him with no trace of terror in his eyes, even as Virgil grew close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Take your time,” he offered, despite being the one trapped in a monster’s web. Virgil abruptly felt a bit silly about his obvious wariness, and lifted his front legs to rub them together at the ankles. The stranger’s head tilted to the side slightly, watching the gesture intently.

“... It’s the oils that make the webs not stick,” Virgil explained. “I produce it naturally on my feet so I don’t get, y’know, stuck. I’ll have to touch the webs that are attached to you. With my feet. The spider ones.”

Virgil didn’t have any other kinds of feet, but the stranger graciously didn’t nitpick.

“A built-in solvent… I wonder if natural spiders have similar traits,” he mused instead, and then, “Do whatever you need, I don’t mind. The opposite, really, I appreciate the assistance.”

Sure enough, he didn’t shy away when Virgil began carefully plucking at the threads entangling him, sliding the sides of his legs along them to coat them in the anti-stick oils. Bit by bit, the entanglement loosened, and Virgil had just freed both arms when the human abruptly twisted around to reach for something on his person.

Of course, now that much of the webbing holding him in midair had been removed, his weight was significantly less supported. A few threads snapped, and he dropped a few inches with a startled yelp. If he continued, he’d be in for either a rough fall or getting caught in a whole new layer of webbing, and Virgil wanted neither of those things.

He quickly reached forwards with his human arms and lifted the stranger up and away from further entanglement, batting away any stray threads with his front legs. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to check if it was a weapon that the human had reached for. Even more belatedly, he realized that this was the second human he’d picked up in this impromptu carry.

Weird that it had happened twice.

“Perfect, thank you,” the guy said, and then he started writing furiously in a little book, occasionally glancing up at Virgil and locking onto a feature before returning to writing. It was as though he didn’t mind at all being held aloft like a human might lift up a misbehaving cat.

Virgil took the opportunity to continue cleaning any web remnants off the guy while he was distracted, his mind whirring. A stranger who had clearly never done a day of hard labor in his life, who didn’t seem at all afraid of him, and was taking notes.

... Oh, shit.

Virgil set him carefully on the ground while he was still preoccupied with scrawling out a label for a diagram of Virgil’s teeth. He backed up, softening his steps, and by the time the stranger pulled his attention away from his book, Virgil was already well out of sight and planned to keep it that way, regardless of the confused little call the stranger made.

He was not messing with what was clearly a mage out for his parts.

[deancaskiss]

“I’m going outside,” Dean said, dropping a kiss to the top of Cas’ head as he walked past the ex-angel, who was sitting on the couch reading a book.

Cas’ eyes flickered up from the book to Dean’s face, and he smiled softly, tilting his head so Dean could peck him on the lips instead. When Cas pulled back, he took in Dean’s appearance. Red flannel shirt and jeans. He frowned, shifting his weight until he was angled more towards Dean. “You do know it’s snowing outside, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean hummed, sliding his fingers into Cas’ hair and slowly letting it glide between his fingertips. “We need some more wood for the fire,” Dean said with a shrug. And then, “I’ve never really been able to enjoy it. The snow, I mean. Even when we were kids we had to spend our time inside motel rooms instead of out in the snow. Just… want to enjoy nature.”

Cas cocked his head to the side, tilting until he could press a kiss to the inside of Dean’s wrist. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Dean tugged Cas’ hair; not hard, just playfully. “Knock it off. I’ll be back in twenty minutes with more wood,” Dean said, motioning with his free hand to the fireplace, where the fire was slowly dwindling, loud crackles replaced by soft pops as the last of the wood gently burned.

“Take a coat. You’ll get sick,” Cas said, catching Dean’s hand as it slipped from his hair and softly squeezing Dean’s palm.

“My jacket’s all the way upstairs,” Dean said, making a face before giving Cas’ hand a quick squeeze; bending down to grab his boots.

“Dean. Dean,” Cas repeated, soft and urgent. “Jacket. Now. I don’t have powers to heal you if you get sick from the cold.”

Dean stuck out his tongue, dropping another quick kiss onto Cas’ temple before darting to the back door. “I’ll be fine. Love you,” he called, yanking the door open and sucking in a breath as the cold air blasted him. He didn’t wait for Cas’ response, which he knew would either be something exasperated or an ‘I love you, too.’

Instead, he grabbed his axe from where he’d left it on the porch and he trudged into the woods the house was settled into. The snow crunched under his boots, and he sighed in content. It was peaceful. The snow felt good as it slipped down into his hair and clung to his eyelashes.

For a blissful second, he contemplated just sitting and enjoying the gentle snowfall, but they really did need more wood; especially if he wanted cuddles with Cas in front of the fireplace.

Finding his pile of larger wood from the tree he’d chopped down last week, Dean set about to cut some of the larger chunks into smaller logs for the fire, humming under his breath as the snow continued to fall. This right here, this is what retirement was meant to be. It was everything he’d ever wanted and nothing he thought he’d ever deserve. Peace and serenity in the mountains, his husband at his side, still lending a helping hand to the hunter community when need-be.

And with the snow floating down from the sky, Dean knew peace. This is what he’d been hoping for. A white winter. His first time shoveling snow, which had been quite disastrous but still fun, and cutting firewood. Feeling the warmth seep into his bones from the fire after a long day out in the freezing snow. It was good. So good.

Until it wasn’t. One large glob of snow fell from the nearest tree, soaking Dean’s back and trickling down the open collar of his shirt. Shit. Cas had been right. He should have spent the extra two minutes grabbing his jacket. But it was too late now. He was out here, and he was almost done chopping enough wood to last them a couple days.

By the time he was done, he could barely get his fingers to move as he attempted to pick up the logs. Damn. Next time he needed thicker gloves. Heaving the haul back to the back porch felt like a living hell, and when he fumbled his hand on the door handle and the warm air from inside washed over him, he actually let out a quiet cry.

Cas looked up from his book, expression torn between pity and sheer I told you so.

The former won out though, because Cas quickly got up, grabbed the logs from Dean’s hand, and he motioned to his spot on the couch he’d just been sitting on. “Sit. I’ll get the fire going again and then I’ll warm you up.”

Dean did as directed, kicking his boots off and curling up into the warm spot on the couch. A second later, Cas was back, hauling a blanket over Dean before settling himself down on the couch; dragging Dean into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, drawing the blanket firmly around them until Dean was cocooned in warmth.

“I told you to get your jacket,” Cas mumbled against Dean’s ear.

Dean shivered, tucking his cold hands under Cas’ armpits, causing the former-angel to hiss.

“And thicker gloves next time, too.”

“But then I wouldn’t get these cuddles,” Dean muttered, tucking his face into the crook of Cas’ neck. “And I really love your warm cuddles.”

Cas snorted, pressing feather-light kisses to Dean’s jaw. “You don’t need the excuse of being cold to cuddle with me, Dean.”

Dean hummed, letting his eyes flutter closed as the loud crackling from the fire lulled him into a sleepy haze. He could feel the heat from the fire creeping up his back, and the warmth from Cas seeping into his bones.

“Maybe next time you can come out with me and keep me warm while I work?” Dean said, voice slipping into a thick-drawl as sleep started to tug him down.

“And miss our cuddle session by the fire? Hard pass. I much prefer warming you up right here when you’re done being the hero,” Cas teased.

And Dean smiled, pressing his grin into Cas’ throat as he drifted off to sleep; Cas arms rubbing comforting circles across his back.

Tag List Part 1 Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)

Tag List: @cas-deserved-so-much-more @hello-x-sunshine @bibelphegor @likepurplemuses @expectingtofly @neo-neo-neo @shadowywerewolfqueen @a-sweet-indisposition @feraladoration @xojo

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