#like the vamp part already starts taking over by night and giving her less time to be herself by day

[abrahamvanhelsings]

"why is van helsing always presented as the vampire hunter" oh im sorry originally being the only person with the knowledge to kill them and having the guts to put himself in mortal danger by 1) standing outside a vampire's tomb in the night while there's another vampire hunting in the same city and 2) travelling with a woman who is slowly turning into a vampire and starts to view him like prey and persevering despite his fears to see the hunt through to the end does not qualify suddenly

[let-them-read-fics]

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot. 

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best. 

A bonafide, absolute idiot. 

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out. 

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning. 

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time. 

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight. 

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word. 

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession. 

There's no way you think this one looks bad. 

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck. 

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features. 

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too." 

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter. 

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all." 

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier. 

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday. 

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool. 

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend. 

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door. 

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh. 

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week. 

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…" 

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees. 

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling." 

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests. 

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways. 

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies. 

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair. 

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks. 

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again. 

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this. 

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you. 

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here." 

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before. 

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile. 

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side. 

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes. 

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?" 

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down. 

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. 

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away. 

But alas, she doesn't. 

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight. 

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes. 

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see." 

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality. 

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner. 

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying." 

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you. 

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation. 

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people. 

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks. 

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party." 

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?" 

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one." 

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?" 

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me." 

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip. 

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!" 

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks. 

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter. 

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me." 

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer. 

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets. 

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else. 

You can get your own revenge. 

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them. 

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you. 

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion. 

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away. 

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes. 

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later. 

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen. 

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers. 

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her. 

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall. 

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge. 

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun. 

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are. 

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover. 

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path. 

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up. 

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you. 

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you. 

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be. 

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers. 

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!" 

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting. 

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now. 

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath. 

"What's wrong?" 

There's that voice again. 

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it. 

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me." 

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like." 

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches. 

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas. 

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads. 

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little. 

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled. 

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters. 

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs. 

When did that happen? 

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you. 

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you. 

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment. 

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy. 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her. 

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against. 

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time. 

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now. 

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly. 

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to. 

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out. 

"I'm Lisa." 

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease. 

"Likewise, beautiful." 

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced. 

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips. 

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing. 

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again." 

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes. 

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise. 

"That sounds wonderful." 

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever. 

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close. 

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed. 

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off. 

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up. 

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors. 

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof. 

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you. 

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over. 

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself. 

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away. 

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window. 

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now. 

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building. 

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations. 

She does a twirl, looking around. 

"It's gorgeous." 

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up. 

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out. 

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms. 

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her. 

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months." 

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself. 

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking. 

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains. 

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters. 

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh. 

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

"Sure, Lisa." 

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms. 

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace. 

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song. 

Turning Page, you recognize it as.  

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites. 

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too." 

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud… 

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it. 

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you. 

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is. 

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush" 

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly. 

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you. 

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second. 

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss. 

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping. 

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up. 

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck. 

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late. 

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey. 

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too. 

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her. 

"Please…" 

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more. 

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go. 

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there. 

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before. 

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there. 

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask. 

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Prompt: Vampire Chris drunk on blood?

CW: Drunkenness, drug addiction, blood drinking, vampirism, creepy abusive comfort, WWI-period-appropriate xenophobia and brief vague possible homophobia reference, dehumanization, war whump

"Now, that'll get you blotto faster'n French liquor," Kirk says, sinking back against the muddy trench wall, careless for the dirt caking itself into the hair at the nape of his neck.

His helmet lay beside him upside down on the ground, and his brown hair was free to explode in its wealth of curls, a kind of halo around his head. He had one arm out, sleeve rolled back. His hands were caked in mud and smeared with drying dirt - above the line of his sleeve, though, the skin was paper-white, almost clammy.

It was this white skin that the vampire's fangs were buried in.

"Shit, Holden, y'gotta have 'im bite you, too." Kirk's grin widens. The shells had gone silent but every man flinches, now and then, hearing a phantom sound or feeling a rumble beneath their feet.

At least it's finally stopped goddamn raining.

The venom rolls through Kirk's veins, soothing his jangled nerves. He can barely feel the trembling in his hands and it feels like his mind, when it's in him. He's a farm kid from western Nebraska, the second son and not needed so much as the first to bring the crops in. So here he is, learning to love the feeling of teeth in his skin.

Maybe when he gets shipped back home he'll stick to the cities. They say the vampires have their dens there, where they can hide. You can buy venom enough to quiet your mind for a day or two, the city boys tell him.

They're in it as deep as he is, now.

Feels like half the American army is itching for venom these days.

"No thank you. I'm not gonna get sent home and start chasing fangs like the rest of you." Holden squints, looking up into the dark sky, the rolling clouds that seem far too close to the ground. "It'll rain again soon."

"When isn't it going to rain again soon? Oh, right, when it's already bloody raining." That's a Brit, they just call him Tommy. No one knows his real name.

He claims to hate them all, but since half his unit was blasted apart two days ago, he's hung with the 'Yanks' close enough. Kirk thinks he's fond of them, even if he won't admit it. Or just scared to be alone. He can understand that. He's terrified of the thought himself. "Shove the little vamp over to me, Kirk, I want some."

The vampire pulls his fangs free, licking over the wounds he's made until they close. He's a skinny little thing, pale as paper with bright red hair they stuff under his helmet when he's running medic checks in No Man's Land, trying to make him less obvious. Sure, he can't die from gas, but he can be blown to bits by a whizz-bang fast as any living soldier can.

"Please," The vampire says, turning big green eyes up to Kirk. "I, I, I'm tired, please, can I sleep?"

He's got heavy dark circles under his eyes. It's kind of cute.

"No," Kirk answers, curt, shoving the vampire away by his head, watching him fall into the mud. His uniform is marked with it, now, a dab of dirt over the 'V' sewn next to his medic's cross. There's a satisfaction, in Kirk, just in seeing the little thing laid low.

He won't die in this war, and Kirk probably will, but before that happens he can at least hurt something he can see. You can't see old Fritz when you fire on him from a distance - but you can see a vampire flinch in the dirt. It's not much.

It's something.

"Must be daytime," Holden speaks up, still staring up at the clouds. "You can't tell, weather like this, but if the fangs're tryin' to sleep, must be day."

"He sleeps when we're done with him, and not a moment before." Kirk's voice is a murmur, eyes half-closed. He's drifting in it, the way the venom dulls and deadens the eternal ache in his back and legs. The Germans could come roaring over the bags right this second and Kirk wouldn't give a damn at all. Let them kill him, at least he can go with venom in his veins, not as a basket case carried off the field. "Not a second before. Go on, bloodsucker. Get over to Tommy and help him get some shut-eye, huh?"

"I've been drinking all night, pulled some rations off someone," Tommy groans, rubbing his fingers at his temples. "It's done no good at all." It's a funny little gesture, so oddly normal and casual. Reminds Kirk of home.

His throat tries to close, homesickness bowling him over. The wish to return to his mother's worn smile, sit down to dinner and have her ask him about his day, when his problems revolved around the harvest and the hard backs of the pews in church-

He takes a breath, forcing it back, and gives the vampire a vicious kick in the ribs, listening to his high-pitched cry and how he curls around himself with a smile of his own.

Oh, he'll die, probably. The others from his town already have. But he can remind himself he's still alive, for now. One way or another. He can cause pain he can't feel himself, for once.

"I said get over to Tommy and smooth out his sharp bits, bloodfuck."

"Yes, um, y-yes, Kirk," The vampire says, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. His fingers are smashed into the mud deep enough to nearly disappear. If they could only get a few days of sunlight to dry out all this dirt, it wouldn't be such hell.

As it is, his socks've been damp for weeks, his boots feel like they're caging his feet in a swamp. He's worried about trenchfoot and trying not to think about it. He stole these boots off a dead German when his own started to fall apart, anyway.

He could've probably gotten new ones, but... it had felt good, taking something from Fritz after Fritz took so much from him.

Kirk tries not to remember that the German soldiers he fights have never caused him a single moment's harm on purpose. They're only fighting for the same reasons he is - because someone higher up who doesn't give a damn about them said to.

Kirk had been all gung-ho for the war until he'd been sent over here to fight it. All those articles in the newspapers, all the speeches given by men standing in town squares... it had all made it seem so patriotic.

They never tell you, Kirk thinks bitterly, that you'll be sent into a slaughterhouse. They don't tell you you'll spend your day breaking a vampire's fingers one by one just to watch them heal back into place and listen to his little cries.

Just to pass the time.

"Trade me your flask while the fangs takes care of you," Kirk says, and Tommy hands it over easy enough.

He watches Tommy grab the vampire by one arm and yank him over, vicious and violent, making the vampire boy cry out again. The sound is starting to grate on Kirk's nerves. It makes him sound too human. He hates being reminded that every vampire used to be a person.

He drinks whatever's in the Brit's flask, and it burns down his throat just the way he needs it to. Wipes out his worries, relaxes shoulders that seem always to be tensed up nearly to his chin.

His mama's a teetotaler, back in Nebraska. He'd been one, too, until the first bombardment. Now he drinks anything he could get his hands on, and the officers mostly looked the other way.

"Bite," Tommy orders. Kirk raises his eyebrows when Tommy doesn't roll up his sleeve but pushes the vampire's face instead towards his neck, turning his head to the side to bare it.

His eyes meet Kirk's, and he smiles, bitterly. "Works faster this way," He explains. Kirk just watches as the vampire's fangs glint in the eternal dim twilight, hesitating before they bury themselves in Tommy's skin.

The little monster's back arches, pressing them chest-to-chest. A low rumble comes from somewhere deep inside, the animal sound the vampire makes during a good feed. He doesn't do it much with the regular unit any longer, they mocked him for it and one day he stopped.

The vampire's throat works as he drinks, and Tommy's arm slides around the monster's thin shoulders, forcing him closer. He's nearly kissing his forehead, this way.

It's an embrace, and altogether more intimate of one than Kirk thought he'd ever see from the cold, standoffish Brit. He feels a blush creeping up his neck and his cheeks as Tommy lets his head fall back, groaning softly in a kind of contentment as the venom hits. The sound isn't quite like a groan at all, it's more like-

"Fucking hell, Tommy, are you an invert?"

"Invert suggests I give a damn what bites me," Tommy replies, without opening his eyes. His slurred speech deepens, goes slow. His hand curves around the vampire's shoulder, holding him tightly. "I'm after oblivion, lads. I don't care what parts the fangs have that give it to me."

"Fang-chaser," Holden says, good-naturedly. Clearly not bothered the way Kirk is. Maybe that's just his farmboy past talking, that he's even unsettled at all. Maybe Tommy's got a point - who cares what's between a vampire's legs if you're only interested in the damn thing's mouth in the first place? "Fucking fang-chaser, that's what you are. End up in a den getting your hips bit like Oscar Wilde."

"Who's Oscar Wilde?"

Holden laughs. "You should try reading a book or three sometime, Kirk."

"Sure, sure, whenever I get the damn time in-between running over this blasted nothing. In any case, Tommy's definitely a fang-chaser."

"Guilty as charged... just like you two." Tommy's hand slides up into the vampire's hair, gripping tight and gently pulling backwards. The vampire's fangs slide free, and it laps at the wounds, rapidly. Tommy groans again. Kirk finds himself unable to look away at the bob of Tommy's throat. How good does it feel, in the neck? He's never thought to try it. He thinks about it now. "Turn me in to face discipline for unnatural relations with the fangs and I'll do the same to you."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it. Fucking Limey bastard." There's no real animosity in Kirk's voice. He's too distracted, drunkenly considering the vampire boy's mouth. Wondering if he knows how to kiss. "You shared your liquor, I shared our bloodsucker, we're both of us in it to our necks."

"Not me," Holden says, innocent and pure as the driven snow. As if he weren't the one to give Kirk the idea to use the venom in the first place.

Kirk throws a clot of mud at him, which he dodges, laughing. They're all laughing, soon enough, except for the fangs.

The vampire lays there, his head pressed to Tommy's chest and forcibly held in place by his arm. His eyes are slightly wide, unfocused, and Kirk leans forward.

"What's this, then? What'd you do to the fangs, Tommy?"

"Hm? Nothing. Oh, I'm pissed as can be, do they feel the liquor in your blood?"

"I'm guessing they sure do. You drunk, fangs?"

The vampire's eyes drift over to Kirk, move too far to one side, come back again. He swallows, thickly. "I... I think I, I, I am," He says, and tries to push back against Tommy's chest, to free himself.

The Brit's arm crushes him back into place, his other hand moving up to run through the vampire boy's dirt red hair, petting him like one of the ambulance dogs. Kirk and Holden laugh at the vampire's weakness. "Stay right where you are," Tommy murmurs. "Or I'll run you through with my bayonet and let you squirm all day."

"Christ," Kirk says, blinking. "That's a bit rough, isn't it?"

"He's not alive, what does it matter?" Tommy lets out a bitter little laugh. "Might as well get a preview of our own ends, shouldn't we?"

"You two, maybe." Holden crawls into the dugout, the little bed-space, a kind of cave dug in underneath the upper layers of the trench. He lays down on his back, closing his eyes, hands behind his head. "I'm going to go back home and never think of you lot ever again."

"I pray every night to make it home," Kirk says, nodding along. "Not sure anyone's listening, but I got to try, don't I?"

"What happens to the fangs, anyway?" The Brit looks up, rocking a little back and forth. As if the bloodsucker were a baby needing soothing. The vampire boy has relaxed against him, the liquor-laced blood he drank lulling him into a complacent bonelessness. Kirk watches the vampire boy's fingers start to tap over the Brit's chest, a strange movement he's seen the boy do before in his few relaxed moments between the scream of the shells. He hums, low in his throat, tuneless.

"Huh?" Kirk blinks. "What d'you mean, what happens to him?"

"After the war's done. What are they gonna do with the bloodsuckers? Can't exactly pin a bloody ribbon for valor on them and send them on their way, now can they?"

"Nope. I don't know what happens. Maybe they'll just stake them all and have done with them."

The vampire shudders, giving a little whimper. Tommy leans down, lips moving against the vampire's hair. "Ssssshhhh. Not to worry, little fangs. War's not over just yet, now is it?"

"N-... no. Not, not, not, not yet." The vampire's eyes close, pink-tinged tears creating pale tracks in his dirty face. He's a sad drunk, then, Kirk figures.

Aren't they all, these days.

"Maybe you'll outlive us all, and make fools of us for keeping you." Tommy speaks with a patronizing affection, as mocking as it is tender, petting through the creature's hair still. It's... unsettling to watch. Kirk had figured the Brits and French probably killed all their vamps, since they were all disturbed by the sight of the vampire medics when the doughboys first arrived in Europe.

This, though... this makes it seem like Tommy's known a vampire or two himself, in his life. And he's sure as fuck not unfamiliar to what venom is good for outside of giving relief from agony to the injured.

Kirk frowns, thoughtful.

He's turned into a thoughtful drunk, too, thanks to this goddamn war. Sad and thoughtful. What a fucking waste.

"Sleep," Tommy says, almost gently, to the drunk little vampire. "I've got you. Sleep, little one."

The vampire's eyes slip closed. He doesn't breathe - there's no sense of his chest rising and falling. Kirk has to look away before the sense of wrongness, watching Tommy cuddle a corpse, makes him sick.

He takes a long, long draught from the flask, and relishes the burn that reminds him he's human, and alive.

His own eyes slip shut, and he prays for an hour or two of sleep before the next screaming shell bursts overhead.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (more to come)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: October 2021

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: dead body/crime scene, blood and bite wounds talked about in detail, hypnosis/compelling someone to do something against their will, overall discussion of murder (basically what we see in every episode of the show))

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: Absolutely nothing you don’t already know, this is legit from the first chapter. Hotch is a Vampire (although the LEOs don’t really know that), Rossi is a priest, Morgan is so empathetically telepathic he can touch the auras in the air, and Reid is Reid. I know I’ve been giving you the juicy HotchReid stuff but here have some case stuff too, to see what you’re in for with the plot and everything. This is FIRST DRAFT so it’s terribly unpolished, first part is generalized POV (hence the more professional titles) and the second is within the team dynamics so they get more familiar. idk my first drafts are messy and indecisive, enjoy anyway. 💕)

–

They approach the body and Rainer shoos away his pestering, hovering officers and --- winces once again at the sight of the bloodied woman. “This is the third body in two days; a jogger found her about 6 am. Coroner says she thinks she’s been dead for about 6 hours; killed in the middle of the night, just like the others.” 

“Closer to five hours, I think,” Dr. Reid says, crouching down to look closer. All long legs and his gun looking too big on his belt next to his FBI badge. “Could still be within the Witching Hour, though.”

“Do you have accurate time of death estimates for the other two bodies?” Agent Morgan adds on, already picking up the train of thought Dr. Reid has started on. The detective pulls out an old-school flip notebook book and looks through it before answering.

“3:15am the first night, 9:30pm last night and now this.”

“Well that rules out hex, sacrifice, and spell gone wrong,” he concludes, as the other agents surround the body to inspect it from all angles. “So what are we thinking?”

“It’s a frenzied bite,” Agent Hotchner points out, looking from where he stands and not having to get as close as Dr. Reid to inspect it accurately. His eyesight is better than any microscope. “Shows multiple entries, it couldn’t get a good enough hold to rip her throat. Or she struggled, so it wasn’t strong enough to keep her pinned down.”

“The boys think it’s a Vamp,” Detective Rainer points out. “Maybe a baby one, still learning the ropes?”

“Vampire changes are regulated and no sire would allow whoever they turned to do this,” Agent Hotchner says, a colder flint to his voice that matches the way his dark stare cuts up to the detective. “No one has been turned in the United States in the past twelve years.”

“It’s not a Vampire bite,” Dr. Reid agrees, putting on latex gloves to further inspect the body and test the bite radius. “And it’s not a werewolf bite, either.”

“...Werewolf?” the detective says with a winded sound, eyes wide and looking to the three agents who didn’t even blink at the word. “There’s -- there’s such thing as werewolves?” 

“Detective, I think you should let my team and I work, we will come to you with our findings and then help you track down your killer.” Agent Hotchner doesn’t leave room for argument, his dark brown eyes looking pitch black in the early morning light, and Detective Rainer… suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to walk away. Like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t comply; he fights it, tries to fight it, and feels his will crumble beneath him like a sand bank giving way under his feet. He turns, even that small gesture lessening the pressure crushing his chest, and takes a step away from the group, air swept into his lungs like a riptide. He makes a hasty retreat after that, winded as if he just ran up a flight of stairs and the sweet taste of oxygen being his only reprieve. He doesn’t know what happened, and wouldn’t upon further inspection until much, much later.

-

“That wasn’t very nice, Hotch,” Rossi points out with a look of glib reprimand towards their team leader. “I thought compelling feeble minded beat cops was for those who have no skills to avoid it.”

“My patience was running thin, and we need to move faster on this case before our unsub kills again. He’s escalating.” That much is obvious, by the timeline alone, but Father Rossi still gives him a side-ways glance that says he finds far too much amusement in the undead’s antics. “Reid, are you sure it’s not a werewolf bite? It would explain the lack of control and precision.”

“I’m sure,” Reid says with finality, and no one makes a mention on why. He had done more research than any human possibly could in the past few months on werewolf transformation and the after effects of attacks. With what happened to one of their former agents mere months ago, no one doubted his newly learned expertise. “It’s also not a shifter, or a ghoul. We can rule out ghost and poltergeist as well, no residue or temperature shifts.” 

“Demon possession?” Morgan asks, looking to Rossi just as he does his customary Sign of the Cross at the mere mention. Can’t help the gesture, after his own past experiences. Giving anything the power of a name, even arbitrary, can be a dangerous thing. 

“We can’t rule it out,” he admits. “The teeth marks are human, someone possessed would still have a hard time biting that deep and doing that much damage. Cannibalism is only reserved for the amusements of level three demons, however they aren’t usually powerful enough to reach the mortal plane or take possession of someone’s body. They would need help.” 

“You really think someone would weaponize a demon like that?” 

“We’ve seen people do worse things, as has history, but I’d like to hope it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime.” 

“We need more information,” Hotch concludes, arms crossed and watching as Reid stands up and removes the blood stained gloves. “Morgan,” his gaze cuts to the tall man in his deep blue suit. “Can you walk the scene, tell us what you see?”

“Not with this many people around,” Morgan shakes his head, eyes glancing to every person within a twenty foot radius. “Too many readings, the aura field here looks like an oil spill. The only thing I can latch onto is…” his gaze is back on the ground, hovering over the dead woman, who would have no aura to speak of at all and therefore a blank canvas. He replaces Reid’s space, crouching down to touch the air over the bite wound. Fingers spread wide, less than a foot from her but not touching, palm suddenly curving as if over an invisible shoulder, the place where someone had once been not so long ago. It could have been the coroner, or the crime scene photographer, but with it being so close to the body -- chances were it was the unsub.

“They were crouched down, half on the ground, no… human thoughts that I can hear,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand glide through the air a little more, following the curve of someone’s spine and up their neck, resting where the head would be. “They have a fever burning them up, hot as a furnace--” he keeps his hand there too long, suddenly jerks it back as if it had physically burned him, then stands up again. Shaking off the aura reading still sticking to his fingers and the forefront of his mind. “Sound like anything you’ve heard of, pretty boy?” 

Reid shakes his head, sharing a glance with Father Rossi. “We might have to go through some of your demonology books.” The older man grins wide.

“You just want to get your hands on them, at this rate you’ll have them memorized by next week.” 

“Dave --” Hotch says slow, a reprimand of his own.

“Fine, fine, I’ll have Garcia send us some scans. If the Vatican knew I was putting a book like that in his hands they’d strip me of all my titles.”

“Didn’t they already do that?” Morgan teases with a grin.

“Ex-communicated. I got to keep the dog collar, the honorifics, bless the holy water, you know -- the party tricks.” 

–

((if you want to be apart of the taglist just hit me up via comment, reblog tag, DMs or asks 💕))

[synmorite]

Worth it

Summary: Claire has tried to be patient while waiting for the boys, but her patience has run out. Pairing: Sam x Dean, Dean x Claire x Sam Word Count: 3180 Rating: 18+ Warnings: 18+ only, Wincest, language, nudity, teasing, drinking, smut, light bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), edging, anal sex, unprotected p in v, rough sex, threesome Created for: @j3bingo - Threesome square A/N: This is the final part of my ‘Brat’ series. It’s been fun! Also this is my first bingo fic! Woo!

~~~

Claire liked to think she was patient. She knew she was lying to herself, but it was a nice thought. Ever since the boys agreed to let her watch them together, she stuck with them. Normally, she would be on her way after a good fuck until the next time. But she just couldn’t wait. She needed to see them together. It was all she could think about. The boys fucking knew it too. There were more lingering touches between them. More groping. More kissing. More flirting. More of everything. Well, everything except what she wanted most. To see them fuck each other. She stayed with them, hunt after hunt after hunt. She practically lived with them in the bunker when not hunting. And just to make matters worse, neither one of the boys would fuck her either. She was feeling extra horny and tried with Sam first. Maybe if she had tried with Dean first, she might’ve gotten somewhere. But Sam was sitting in the library doing research while Dean was out at a bar. She walked into the library just wearing panties and a t-shirt. Hopping up onto the table, she sat cross-legged. Sam glanced up at her and laughed. Claire pouted at him. “Nice try, Claire. Subtlety is not your strong suit.” She gave up quickly on Sam, and tried Dean next. She waited till he was in the shower and then walked in and stripped before joining him. He smirked at her and grabbed the soap. He ran it down her skin, but stopped right before he reached the juncture of her thighs. Tracing his finger back and forth over her wet skin, Dean leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Sammy told me what you’ve up to, little girl. He thinks you should wait.” Dean pulled his hand away and put the soap back as Claire whined at him. “But I don’t want to, Dean.” “You remember that having a lack of patience is how you got into this mess? You didn’t wait with those vamps, so you had to be punished. Still haven’t learned your lesson then, have you?” Dean stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel as he left Claire under the running water. ~

It was two months. She knew that there was no way they hadn’t had sex in that time which just made her so much madder that they were clearly just playing with her. If she wasn’t getting to hunt so much, she would have just left them. Maybe she would have. Ok, probably not. But that was also two months that she hadn’t gotten any sex, so she was a bit on the irritable side. Ok fine, a lot on the irritable side. So when the boys dragged her out on a ghoul hunt, she was more than a little pissy with them. She tossed her bag in the back of the Impala and put her earphones in as soon as she settled in the seat. She could see both Sam and Dean trying to talk to her during the drive, but she continued to give them the silent treatment until they gave up. It was already 9pm when they finally pulled into the motel. As soon as Dean unlocked the door to their room for the next few days, she shoved past him ignoring his indignant “Hey!”, dropped her bag on one of the beds, and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind herself. She stared into the mirror for a moment before getting angry with herself for hanging around. They probably changed their minds about letting her watch and just didn’t know how to tell her. Sighing heavily, she decided that she didn’t want to wait anymore. She wanted to get fucked and she wanted to get fucked tonight. She opened the bathroom door and was surprised to see the motel room empty. She saw the boys’ bags on the other bed before spotting the note left on the little table in the kitchenette. Picking up the note, all it said was that they went for food and would be back soon. She crumpled the note and threw it in the trash before opening her bag and pulling out a short denim skirt and a low cut black top. She changed and then pulled her boots and leather jacket back on. She made sure that she had her phone and wallet with her fake ID before calling an Uber to take her to a bar just outside of this little podunk town. There was a bar across the street from the motel, but she didn’t want any of the hicks that might be there. The bar outside of town seemed to be more popular with people her age. Once the uber driver dropped her off, she went in and settled down in a seat at the bar. She ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer before gazing through the crowd to find someone acceptable to take her home for the night. Her hungry gaze landed on a guy with stubble and shaggy hair. He had a smirk to die for and seemed to be a little older than most of the modest crowd. He was sitting at the other end of the bar also surveying the crowd. Claire smirked to herself and threw back the shot before picking her beer up and heading over to him. He spotted her and smiled brightly. She sat down on the stool next to him and leaned forward so her breasts were pushed up. The guy’s gaze immediately flicked downward to look before dragging back up to her face. “See something you like?” She asked, taking a sip of her beer. “Oh yeah. Definitely. I was beginning to lose hope at finding anything interesting here. How about you? Anything you like?” His voice was just deep enough for her liking. “Yea, I think so.” She let her gaze drag up and down him appreciatively. “M’name’s Graham.” “Katie.” Claire said, giving the name on her ID. In less than an hour, Claire and Graham were kissing hungrily in a back hallway of the bar. She pulled away for air and he immediately started licking and kissing at her throat. He wasn’t bad, but he definitely wasn’t good. Claire just hoped the sex would be better than the kissing. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and go somewhere more private.” She said as she pulled his head away from her neck. “Yeah, okay.” Graham said breathlessly. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him back towards the front door of the bar. As soon as the door shut behind them, her heart dropped at the sight in front of her in the parking lot. Sam and Dean were leaning against Baby and staring at Claire. “Oh, shit.” She said. Dean looked positively murderous while Sam looked calm and collected, but she could feel the waves of anger

flowing off of him. She looked back at Graham, trying to decide if it was even worth it at this point. Sighing heavily, she said to him, “Look, you might want to go find some other chick in the bar, cause this isn’t gonna happen.” “Wait, what? I just spent the last hour with you! You owe me!” Unfortunately for him, Graham said that loud enough for the boys to hear and Dean had the guy by the throat before he could take another breath. “The fuck you just say to her?” He growled. “Who the fuck are you?!?! Lemme go!” Graham tried to pull Dean’s fingers off his throat. “Dean, c’mon, he’s not worth it.” Claire urged. Dean growled again before throwing Graham away from him. “Damn right he’s not.” Dean stared hard at him. “Get the fuck home. Now.” Graham scrambled away to a beat up old car before peeling off out of the parking lot. Once he was out of sight, Dean turned his glare to Claire and she flinched. “And you get the fuck into the car now. We’re going back to the motel.” She heard the door of the Impala open and saw that Sam opened the back door for her. She slinked off into the backseat. It was dead silent on the ride back to the motel. Once they made it back, Sam levelled Claire with a look and said, “Go to bed, Claire.” She opened her mouth to argue about how she was 18 and they couldn’t tell her what to do, but seeing the stony looks on both of their faces, she decided she wouldn’t test them. She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a large T-shirt to sleep in before crawling under the covers and shutting her eyes. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

~

Something was wrong. There were strange noises in the dark and Claire couldn’t move right. She heard a grunt and her eyes shot open. The room was dim with only a table lamp on, but her eyes immediately focused on the two bodies in the bed next to hers. Two naked bodies. Sam was leaning over Dean, kissing him deeply. He was also slowly jerking Dean’s cock in his hand. Dean let out another grunt as Sam twisted his wrist on the upstroke. Claire immediately felt wetness pool between her thighs at the noise. She tugged on her wrists and realized that they were tied to the headboard. She also realized that she was completely naked. When she looked back at the boys, Sam was smirking at her. Dean’s head was thrown back as he gasped with Sam’s hand movements. “Looks like someone finally woke up for the show.” Sam kept his eyes on Claire as he leaned back down and took one of Dean’s nipples between his teeth. Dean grunted and thrust up into Sam’s hand. Claire went to squeeze her thighs together and realized that her ankles were tied to the opposite end corners of the bed so that she couldn’t do anything to create any friction for herself. “Yeah, I cannot believe you slept through Dean tying you down and stripping you.” “Please, Sam.” “Oh no, baby girl. I told you that you’d be tied down. And you haven’t been very patient over the last couple of months, have you? Not to mention the stunt you pulled tonight. So absolutely no touching, babygirl. Not if you want either one of us to play with you.” Claire whined out, “Okay, Sam,” knowing that there were no other options. Any options she wanted anyway. Dean’s eyes turned to Claire and she held his gaze as Sam lowered down and took Dean’s length in his mouth. Dean’s mouth fell open as a hand weaved into Sam’s chestnut hair and held on. Sam licked and sucked until Dean was bucking up softly into Sam’s mouth. His eyes still trained on Claire, Dean asked, “Can I taste her, Sammy? Please?” Sam pulled off of Dean with a small pop. “Okay, Dean. Because you have been such a good boy for me, I’ll let you taste her. But she’s not allowed to cum. I’ll let her get my dick nice and wet for you while you play with her.” Dean nodded eagerly before scrambling over to Claire. She was already spread wide so he settled between her thighs and licked a long stripe up her center. She gasped at the sudden touch. Dean let out a happy sigh as he continued to lick and suck at her. Sam climbed over her so his knees were above her shoulder. “Suck.” He commanded. She lifted her head and eagerly took Sam’s length into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his tip before pushing forward to take as much of him as she could. The angle was awkward, but Sam understood and didn’t try to control her actions. He let her go at her own pace. She could feel a climax approaching and hummed around Sam, but Dean slowed his ministrations, letting her orgasm melt away. Once she was no longer on the edge, he picked back up until she was close again before slowing down and letting it fade. She groaned in dissatisfaction as Dean edged her a third time. Sam grinned down at her. “What the matter, baby girl? Want something?” She pulled off of him and pleaded, “Please, Sam. Just let me cum. Please.” Sam leaned down and stroked a thumb over her lower lip. “Hmm. How about I let you have one orgasm tonight. Just one. Do you want it now, or would you rather have a cock in you?” She threw her head back in frustration. “Careful now, baby girl. If you’re a brat, you’ll get nothing.” Immediately, Claire calmed herself. “I’m sorry. I’ll wait until you decide I can have a cock.” Dean was still licking at the slick pouring from Claire’s hole when she felt him press a finger into her. She gasped and jerked up, and Sam turned to look at his brother. “Seems I have two brats tonight. I told you that you could taste, Dean. I didn’t say you could finger her.” “But Sammy, she’s so soft, and wet, and warm.” “And wouldn’t you rather feel that around your cock instead of your finger? If you’re not careful, I won’t let you cum either, Dean.” Dean immediately

pulled his finger free. “Sorry, Sammy. I’ll be good.” “Good. Now it’s time to get that hole of yours ready for me.”

~

Claire had never seen Dean look so desperate. So wrecked. Hell, she had never seen him so submissive. He was always so dominant with her. He gripped the sheets in his fists and whined and whimpered with every thrust of Sam’s cock in his ass. “Please, Sammy. Harder. You can go harder.” “Such a little whore for me, Dean. So hungry for his baby brother’s cock.” Sam snapped his hips against Dean harder. Dean let out a gasp and buried his face into the bed. She could hear Dean breathing out and chanting “fuckfuckfuck” as Sam continued to pound into him. She felt a shiver of desire run through her body as her gaze remained intent on the two brothers. She twisted against her restraints and whined. Sam’s gaze locked on her and he pulled his cock free of Dean’s. “Sammy, please!” Dean begged. Sam gave him a hard smack across his ass. “I want you to fuck her. Destroy that little pussy.” Dean turned and looked at his little brother. “But I want you to fuck me.” He whined. Sam smirked, “Who said I wasn’t going to fuck you too?” Dean didn’t hesitate to climb back onto Claire’s bed. He shoved a thick finger into her to try and open her up a little. She gasped at the sudden intrusion and bucked against his hand. Sam was still kneeling on the other bed, stroking his cock. Dean pushed a second finger into Claire and she winced at the stretch. “Enough, Dean. Fuck her.” Dean frowned at his brother. “She’s still too tight.” “But she’s wet enough. I can hear how wet she is. She’ll loosen up once you get going. Besides, it’s not about her tonight. She is being punished after all.” Claire looked back and forth between them. Dean still looked unsure. “Fuck me, Dean. I can take it. I want it.” Dean didn’t hesitate any more and lined himself up before pushing in. He had to fight for every inch he gained inside her as she panted at the burn. Once he was fully seated, she threw her head back, blonde hair scattered all over the pillow. Dean’s forehead rested against her chest and his forearms wrapped under her shoulders as he breathed deeply. She could feel his legs quivering as he tried to control himself. He jerked suddenly and Claire looked down to see that Sam was standing over them, stroking a hand up and down Dean’s back. “How’s that feel, De?” “Fuckin’ tight.” Dean grunted back. The bed dipped as Sam climbed on behind Dean. His large hands gripped Dean’s hips as he rubbed his cock over Dean’s ass. Dean shuddered deeply and pulled back from Claire to push himself back against Sam. Claire thrust her hips, but her movement was limited since she was still tied down. Sam noticed and reached over to tug the knots around her ankles free. She immediately pulled her legs up to wrap around Dean’s waist. She felt Sam run his hands up and down her legs before gripping her thighs and pulling her into Dean. Dean groaned at the feeling before lifting his head and kissing Claire hard, shoving a tongue into her mouth. She started to grind her hips against Dean, needing more. “No baby girl. Stay still.” Sam ordered. She obeyed reluctantly and felt his hands return to Dean’s hips. Dean’s cock twitched inside her as Sam slid back into Dean’s tight warmth. “Fuck us, Dean.” Sam commanded. Dean shuddered as he started a slow rhythm of fucking into Claire while fucking back into Sam. Before long, his speed picked up and Claire was holding onto the ropes around her wrists desperately. Sam growled and started shoving hard into Dean, pushing him into Claire and breaking his rhythm. Dean whined out, “Sammy, ‘m gonna cum if you keep that up.” “Then do it. Fill that bitch up.” Claire and Dean moaned in unison as Sam continued his rapid, hard thrusts. Claire felt the coil tighten in her belly and could tell that Dean was close too as he started to throb inside her. Dean’s chest was pressed against hers and as she felt the dam inside her break, she bit hard into his shoulder. Dean gasped and used his grip under her arms to her shoulders to pull her onto him as deep as he could get before unloading himself inside her. “Fuck!” Sam cried out as he gave a few more hard shoves

into Dean before stilling and grunting as he came himself. He had a tight grip on Dean’s hips that looked like it would leave bruises. They all stayed in their positions, breathing deeply before Claire managed to chuckle out “God, that was fucking amazing!” Both boys let out light laughs of their own as Sam pulled free of Dean slowly and collapsed to the side of Claire. Dean then pulled himself out of Claire and laid down on her other side. “Uh, boys? You gonna untie me?” “Oh, shit. Sorry, sweetheart.” Dean mumbled before leaning up to pull the knot at her wrist free, while Sam undid the other. Once she was free, Dean curled into her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. Sam pulled the blanket up over the three of them before moving arm under Claire’s head and holding the arm of Dean’s that was around Claire’s waist with his other arm. He kissed Claire’s cheek and mumbled, “Sorry we made you wait so long, baby girl. Hope it was worth it in the end.” “Yea, Sam. It was most definitely worth it.”

[seancekitsch]

Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret  joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest,  as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.  

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends. 

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

[yourmcu]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x vampire!reader

Summary:

There’s a vampire in the city. Natasha (and Steve) went to investigate the aftermath of your killing spree.

Word count: 2,402

A/n: disclaimer! all info about vampires, description of vamps are based on tvd

Warnings: blood, violence, swearing, angst but fluff at the end? kinda confusing if I’m being honest but that’s ok! lmao

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Natasha found herself walking around the woods again. Not because she wanted to - well, half of her did, but she needed to find and talk to you for more important reasons.

The day (or night) before yesterday, she crossed paths with you. She went out with Steve in the woods to investigate more than a dozen deaths that occurred in less than two weeks, it was nothing compared to Loki’s attack in New York but they were... gruesome.

Steve pressed a button on the remote, showing three different pictures of the victims as holograms. They weren’t normal - murder - pictures, no bullet wounds or knife slices/stabs. One had bite marks all over their body, one’s head was entirely snapped off. But they had one thing in common: they looked drained, and thin. “There are fifteen more like that. Each gory than the other.”

They all let out noises of disgust.

“Definitely a psychopath,” Tony muttered.

“A deranged serial killer?” Bruce suggested.

“There’s bite marks. It’s probably an animal.��� Sam emphasized on ‘bite marks’.

As she continued to walk, Natasha’s fingers brushed on the mark on her neck. For something that was two days old it still stung really bad sometimes. She’s not proud of it. You made her feel incredibly vulnerable that night, weak.

It all started when you jumped from a tree and landed on your feet just behind the redhead-

Natasha had her gun pointed at you in an instant. She was trained and could identify a murderer when she sees one but surprisingly, you looked... normal. Her eyes lowered, checking you out if you had something sketchy on you, but you just looked like a civilian in their mid-twenties or thirties.

You put your hands behind your back, smirking. You licked your lips and mimicked the way she looked at you up and down, not showing any signs that you were threatened by her lethal weapon. “Hey there.”

She was beautiful. Red hair with blonde tips, green eyes, plump lips, she gave off a fierce aura. She looked tough. You liked it.

Natasha kept her usual cold expression and her tone wasn’t any different. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you...” you reached out to rest your palm on the barrel of her gun and-

Bang!

She let out a shaky breath when you barely flinched as she shot a bullet through your hand, eyes widening. It was a metal bullet, it had little to no effect on you. You made an amused noise before ripping the weapon out of her grip and used all your strength to pin the fighting ex-assassin against a tree.

Her speed and strength surprised you. She kicked you hard in the abdomen before her back hit trunk and punched you across the face several times. For you they only stung for a moment; she had no match against you. She had no idea what she was dealing with.

Natasha looked up when she doesn’t hear pained grunts or signs of weakness from you. You smiled, gripping both of her wrists again. “I’ll have a go now, yeah?” She was grunting, struggling, trying to push you away. “You’re stronger than I thought you’d be.”

You forced her to look straight into your eyes. The only light source was coming from the moon but you could still see her green eyes perfectly. So beautiful.

“Think you can relax for me, hun?”

Natasha stared up at you curiously, breathing steadily. To her you looked so irresistible all of a sudden that she had no choice to listen. Her hands that gripped tightly on your arms relaxed, she was now the one holding on to you.

You moved a side of her hair back to get a clear view of her neck, smiling, “good girl.” Your fangs protrude and poked the sides of your lips, the whites of your eyes turned crimson red as black veins popped out just outside both of them. The smell of her blood filled your senses more intensely-

Well you all know what happened next.

Steve decided to show up while you were feeding on Natasha, successfully saving her from you, much to your dismay. They evacuated right away so you wouldn’t do more harm to the pair. They’d be fighting for a long time against you if they stayed, now knowing what you were capable of.

Natasha hated that she felt intrigued and curious by you, or eager if that’s one word to describe it, she doesn’t know exactly what she was eager for but, she can’t help but think about you.

A small cottage came into view, finally, and Natasha stopped walking. Under different circumstance she’d say it looked pretty cozy. She went on to knock on the door, not sure if you were the one occupying it, but she was right.

You answered the door, raising an eyebrow when you saw who it was.

She doesn’t say anything but her heartbeat quickens. You wordlessly stepped aside to let her in.

“Miss Romanoff,” you said softly, not wanting the air to be filled with awkward silence. Your eyes trailed her as she looked around your - the supposedly abandoned cottage that you may or may not have forcefully stole from a now deceased man. “After what I did to you I was sure the last thing you wanted was to see me again.”

She opened her mouth to speak but was astonished by how fast you’ve gotten in front of her to look at her neck. The bite mark you caused was still there and still looked bad. She tried to read your expression but couldn’t, and was taken by surprise when you bit your thumb without hesitation, a generous amount of blood oozing out.

“I... I don’t-”

“It’ll help but, suit yourself,” you shrugged, wiping away the blood and the wound immediately healed right after. You disappeared for a moment in the kitchen. “I apologize, I’m not used to having visitors. Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff, or did you want something else?”

Your stare lingered on her when you came back with a bottle of wine. You did a lot of digging on this woman ever since your encounter and if it wasn’t for your sudden attraction to her you would’ve finished her off already. You thought she was merely a sidekick to Captain America but as you dug further, she might as well be as dangerous as you.

But she was quiet, soft and maybe nervous around you, giving you the feeling that she felt the same way. Your little crush grew more at the thought. As a vampire, everything about you was magnified. Your senses, strength, and if you ever felt it for a certain person, feelings.

“I’m here on behalf of the Avengers,” Natasha spoke, slowly as if she’s choosing the right words to say. “Look, we mean no harm to you, or your kind. We just want to know your intentions...”

“It’s Y/N,” you said absentmindedly, and added, “you’ll never convince me, unfortunately. I won’t come with you.

“I’ve been around for, what, two centuries now and... that sort of play’s getting old. I lost friends the last time I heard that same line.”

You rubbed your temple while taking a swig of the red wine straight out of the bottle. 

“I’m sorry to here that.” Natasha shifted from where she was standing, still not budging whenever you urged her to take seat. 

She didn’t know where to go from here if she was being honest. The plan - well, the original plan, was to kill you. Stake to the heart. Just like that. But after hearing that little story, Natasha’s regrets about suggesting an interrogation on you faded. It’s not like you wanted to be a bloodsucking, immortal monster in the first place, right? You were human once. And it didn’t seem like you dedicated yourself to be completely against humans, because if you did, Natasha would be dead right now without a doubt.

She may or may not have suggested that because you also did leave quite the impression on her.

“Is that genuine, or is this all part of your plan to kill me?” You said coolly, getting up once more to put away the bottle. “Because you’re doing great - oh I forgot, you’re a spy, after all-”

In a swift movement you found yourself on the floor, bottle shattering, drilling pain on your shoulder and Natasha above you, pulling out a pistol. You winced as you struggled to pull out the thick wooden stake buried in your shoulder. You definitely did not expect that.

Natasha gave you an almost apologetic look, but it returned to its usual stoicism. “I’m giving you a chance to do this the easy way,” she breathed out. The sudden attack made you turn to your original form, she looked at the way your eyes faded from red to white again, black veins still pulsing around them.

With your incredible speed and strength you applied pressure to her stomach with your knee and pinned her against the wall again. “What the hell do you want from me, Romanoff?”

What was she waiting for? She could’ve stabbed me already and her job’s done. She’s easily done this before, why was she hesitating now?

Your foreheads were touching and both of your breaths were ragged. Her eyes were so beautiful up close. “You never wanted to be like this,” her voice was barely a whisper. “It’s never too late to change.”

You weren’t all that bad, Natasha was right. You still had a bit of goodness left in you. The vampire that turned you so many years ago didn’t give you a choice, everything just sort of happened. You had no choice but to live like this.

“Is that what this is about?” You mumbled back, loosening your hold on her.

Both of your guards were completely down now.

“I’m a monster,” you said bitterly. “I’ve done horrible things. I’ve killed so many innocent people.”

Natasha gave you a sad smile. She almost had the same background as you. Being an ex-assassin, yet now she was saving lives almost every day.

“You know,” she said, feeling a tingle when your lips brushed against hers. “I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

You gulped, suddenly struggling with your words. But you didn’t have to say anything anymore since her lips connected with yours. Natasha ran her hands on the back of your head while you cupped her face. 

The warm sensation didn’t last for long. You heard something whiz by, and the next thing you knew you had a burning sensation all over, it made you weak. You pushed Natasha off you to look for the source but you were too weak-

The last thing you heard was the door opening and Natasha saying “Clint!”.

-----

Your cell reminded Natasha of the one on S.H.I.E.L.D’s helicarrier, specifically the one they used on Loki. But yours was more small and instead of it being inside an aircraft it was inside the compound.

It’s been a few hours since you went unconscious. Clint used four vervain shots just to knock you out.  Natasha had to remind Steve endlessly that you were not to be killed unless things don’t go well.

“Are you sure this one’s a vampire? ‘Cause it looks like you just closed your eyes and picked a random person outside.” Tony leaned over the glass to get a good look at you.

But once you gained consciousness you lost it. You sped up to the glass, slamming your whole body against it which startled Tony. Not to mention you were in your vampire form.

Some of them cursed when you managed to get a crack on the glass on your third pound. “I don’t want to be here.” Your fists visibly shook as you spat at Natasha. “How do you expect me to change when you trick me, Romanoff?”

“Stark, do something about that glass.” Steve ordered as he pulled Natasha away from your cell.

“Right. You better have those shots at the ready too, Robin Hood.”

“Steve, I’m going in there,” Natasha removed his hand from her arm. She already knew what the look he was giving her meant. “I’ll be fine. Even I didn’t expect Clint to engage last night.”

So she made her way inside, the steel door shut behind her. You were silently pacing back and forth, still shaking. You had given up on the glass when it was replaced by a more durable one.

“Y/N...”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, glaring at her and glaring at Steve outside the cell who was watching you intently. “Just get your pals in here and finish the job.”

“I really do believe you can change-” she insisted.

When she went to touch your shoulder you immediately grabbed her wrist. Natasha was speechless when she saw your twisted face, eyes scarlet and unrecognizable, your fangs just waiting to sink into flesh.

“I can’t change.” you whispered. “I was meant to be like this.”

-----

Ending 1: Natasha fights and convinces you that you still have a bit of humanity, despite being what you are. You end up having to fight Steve and the others too but they manage to knock you out a second time. When you wake up, Natasha’s the only one in the room with you. That’s when you both get to talk properly, and then you get to be one of the Avengers. It’s unusual, but it works, using your powers and abilities for good, not having to kill people but you feed on blood bags instead (occasionally). And maybe you even end up dating Natasha.

Ending 2: You completely snap at Natasha in the cell. Steve and Clint burst in to help her. This causes you to get even more aggressive. The fighting took a while, Tony and Rhodey even got into their suits to fight you, but you threatened them with the lives of their friends so they couldn’t do much. You knocked out Steve, Natasha and Clint, so it was now Bruce’s turn. They were a bit conflicted of letting Hulk out since they were sure he’ll destroy the whole building. But Wanda came out, using her witch powers to weaken you, it finally ended with a stake to your chest.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 4,705 Dean x Reader Summary: Bobby hatches a plan to try to get you and Dean to reconcile after months apart. Warnings: None! A/N: Angsssst and then a happy ending. What more could one ask for?

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean turned when he heard a car door slamming across the yard and he immediately recognized the vehicle. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin and glared at Bobby, who was clearly pretending he hadn’t noticed your arrival and was making himself busy flipping the burgers on the grill.

“Bobby? Are you kidding me?”

Bobby glanced over at Dean carelessly. “What?”

“You called her? Really?” You were making your way up to the house and Dean thought your posture looked stiff.

“Oh, calm down, son. Not everything revolves around you. I lent her some gear and she’s just bringing it back.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and glared at the back of Bobby’s head. “Uh huh. Uh huh, she just happens to be bringing it back the day I show up here with Sam.”

Bobby smirked to himself. “I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist but it seems like maybe you have some unresolved issues to deal with…”

“Bobby,” Dean growled.

He finally turned and vehemently pointed at Dean with the spatula. “No. Now you listen to me. You two idjits belong together and everyone knows it. Figure it out!” he spat, before casually turning back around to the grill.

Your boot scuffing on the gravel finally forced him and Bobby to turn. You had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to crash the barbeque. You didn’t tell me you had company,” you said pointedly to Bobby. Dean thought he saw you swallow hard and you looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Bobby said, giving you a tight smile.

“Mhmm… I’m sure,” you said. You dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud onto the porch and couldn’t keep your eyes from landing on him any longer—Dean was standing there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and although it had been quite a long time since you had seen him, the expression on his face was one you still could readily decode. He was supremely uncomfortable. Bobby was looking back and forth between the two of you but finally turned back to the grill. You were about to open your mouth to say something when the front door swung open and Sam wandered out. He had a novel in one hand and an apple in the other and the slam of the screen door matched perfectly with the struck expression of surprise on his face to see you standing there so unexpectedly. The next moment he was grinning at you and before you could say anything he had you wrapped in a big bear hug, squeezing you tight enough that a little exhaled “Oof!” escaped your lips.

“Y/N! I didn’t—Bobby didn’t tell us—it’s so great to see you!” he said drawing back and taking you in, looking you over. His expression was so open and earnest and warm, just as you remembered, that you couldn’t help smiling back at him despite your annoyance at Bobby’s obvious scheming and the residual anger you felt toward Dean, with a heaping side of discomfort.

“Yeah, well Bobby forgot to mention you’d be here, too,” you said. Sam could hear the edge of tension in your voice and the swell of happiness he had on seeing you began to sink as he glanced over at Dean, trying to read his older brother’s mood. Dean was avoiding looking at you, mainly staring down at his boots.

An uncomfortable silence settled until you cleared your throat awkwardly and picked up the duffel bag again. “Well, I guess I’ll just go dump your gear in the house, Bobby, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“What? No! Y/N, you can’t leave. We haven’t seen you in forever,” Sam pleaded.

Bobby was pulling the last burger off the grill and he looked over at you with an obnoxious little uptick at one corner of his mouth. “I already counted you in for dinner so you have to stay or it’ll go to waste.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Go to waste? You’ve got a fridge. And two giant men visiting. It’ll get eaten or keep just fine…”

“Y/N, you can’t leave,” Sam said again. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and goddammit, you didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose but those fucking puppy eyes. You couldn’t say no to that expression.

You sighed heavily and passed a hand over your brow, shaking your head a little at yourself for what you were about to agree to. “Alright… I’ll stay for dinner, but that’s it!” you said, vehemently pointing at Sam, who grinned triumphantly.

“Good. Now get on in the house. Sam’s already got the table ready, so we’ll just set an extra place. Dean—” Bobby held the laden burger plate out to him. “Take this in. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just gonna clean off the grill.”

“Uhh… alright,” Dean said begrudgingly. He followed you and Sam into the house, his apprehension growing. He wanted more than anything to let his eyes wander over you there in front of him, in the flesh, not just some image conjured in his mind late at night when he couldn’t quite drown out his regrets with whiskey or blaring rock music.

“Beer?” Sam asked, opening the fridge.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned, meeting Dean’s striking green eyes for the first time and awkwardly sidestepping out of his way so he could get to the table. He tore his eyes from yours quickly and you felt that familiar twist in your stomach. “Umm, got anything stronger?” you asked, with a wry laugh.

“Stronger?” Sam repeated. “This is Bobby’s house,” he said, walking across the kitchen and opening up a cabinet which was stocked with liquor. “What can I get you?” Sam asked.

“Rye whiskey, neat.” You and Dean had both said it at the same time and your mouth fell slightly open in surprise. He was straightening up from setting down the tray of burgers and this time when he met your eyes he didn’t pull them away.

He smoothed a hand down his shirt and you thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense. “Sorry,” he murmured.

You just vaguely shook your head. It was the first time he’d really spoken since you had arrived and it was to recite your drink choice as if he had been sitting next to you sipping them in the evening in front of a log fire just the day before. In reality it had been months and months and months since you had even spoken to each other.

Sam watched the extended gaze between the two of you, the air in the room feeling thicker by the second and he thought about making some excuse to leave, but Bobby was expected in at any moment anyway so he cleared his throat and busied himself with a glass and the whiskey. “Comin’ right up.”

“Umm—” Your eyes were still connected with Dean’s and he was finding it hard to look anywhere else now that he had started studying you. “I’m just gonna—jacket…” Dean said, starting to take off his coat and heading out of the kitchen toward the front room. You didn’t want to admit it but just the sound of his voice, deep and somewhat gruff, was threatening to make you weak at the knees. It conjured images in your mind of lost times that were both precious but also now profoundly painful now that they had passed.

When Sam next looked up, you were standing stock straight in the middle of the room, staring in the direction Dean had gone with a queer expression on your face. It was questioning and a bit sad, but Sam noted that there was no hostility. “Here you go,” he said, breaking the spell you seemed to be under and handing you a small tumbler with your drink.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully from him and immediately taking a big gulp.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” you asked in surprise. You constructed the most casual expression you could and shrugged. “Yeah. Fine. Just… I don’t know what the hell Bobby was thinking—”

“Well, you could ask me yourself,” he said, rushing into the kitchen.

“Good. Fine. What the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” you asked him in a hurried undertone.

“What? Dinner? Well, I think we’ll all be a bit less hungry at the end of it,” he said, clearly snarky on purpose.

You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth against the wave of annoyance. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Bobby sank into the chair at the head of the table. “Dean! Get your hide in here! Time to eat!” He turned his eyes to you again. “Y/N, are you going to join us or are you just—going to run away? Again.” He knew what he was saying. He knew that would get you fired up. And it did. You opened your mouth to argue, feeling another swell of exasperation rising up inside you but Dean was breezing into the kitchen again and taking a seat at the table, leaving the only empty chair the one right between him and Bobby. You felt like the wind just went out of your sails and Bobby smirked at you from his seat.

You bit your tongue and sank into the empty chair.

Dinner was composed almost entirely of Sam and Bobby asking questions of you and you and Dean avoiding looking at each other. You answered the queries as succinctly as you could until Sam finally found something to crack open the hard shell you were holding around yourself.

“Y/N, what happened here?” he asked, pointing to his own forehead above his right eyebrow with a vertical slashing motion. “You didn’t have that scar before, did you?”

Dean’s eyes shot over to your face immediately and you actually froze with your glass halfway to your lips, the next moment setting it back down without any thought of a sip. You cleared your throat and pressed your napkin to your lips briefly, almost as an excuse to hide part of your face for a moment as you steeled yourself against the involuntary torrent of residual fear. “No. No, that one is new.” You had sincerely hoped that Sam would allow you to leave it at that but, of course, he didn’t. And you could feel Dean’s eyes drifting over your face and sense his… apprehension? Concern?

“What happened?” Sam asked, his eyes now narrowed a little in genuine concern too.

“Just a hunting souvenir,” you said, trying to manage your tone so it sounded casual. You avoided everyone’s eyes.

Bobby was considering your body language carefully. He was debating about pressing you further. He could see that there was real fear surrounding that memory. Not only did he now want to know what had happened, but he knew this would break down both you and Dean’s constructed walls. What would be better at getting the dialogue going than vulnerability? “What was the monster?” Bobby asked.

You couldn’t avoid such a direct question without it being blatantly obvious. “Vamp nest,” you said, staring down at your plate. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. The familiar tunneling at the edge of your vision warned of a panic attack and you stood up abruptly, the movement emphasized by the groaning of your wooden chair on the floor. “I need some air.” You practically ran out the front door and onto the porch, leaning heavily on the railing and trying to force your heart and lungs to slow. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re fine. Just bad memories.

Inside, Dean was staring down the hallway where you disappeared and Sam and Bobby exchanged a concerned look, both now feeling a little guilty for pressing you. Something had happened on that hunt, more than the usual bumps and bruises.

Dean felt a familiar tightness in the center of his chest and even reached a hand up to absently rub at it to no effect. “Someone should go make sure she’s okay,” he said, turning back around to look at his little brother.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Sam agreed, but he made no move to get up. Dean’s eyes next landed on Bobby.

“I agree with Sam,” he said pointedly, also stubbornly leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean’s jaw tense and the muscle twitched. “Oh, come on. I can’t—I’m probably the last person she wants to talk to right now,” he growled.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just leave her out there alone,” Bobby said, reaching for his beer. “She’s a grown up. She’s tough. She’ll be fine.” Dean was stubborn, but so was Robert Singer.

Sam was almost ready to cave and go check on you when Dean stood up abruptly, the same groan from his chair mimicking the one yours had made, swearing under his breath. You heard footsteps coming up the hall and the familiar sound of the squeaky screen door and straightened up. You were surprised to see Dean when you turned.

“Oh—” The noise of surprise escaped your lips involuntarily and Dean shrugged in response.

“Yep. It’s me. …sorry,” he said.

Your heart had slowed mostly back to its usual steady pace and you just stared at the older Winchester for a long moment. The silence was awkward, tense, and you found yourself wondering how long it was going to go on.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stole fleeting glances at your expression. He had to clear his throat. Why did it feel so suddenly constricted. “Umm—are you okay? You left kind of suddenly in there?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, his lips pressing together in a thin line, the corners turning downward. “Good. …okay.”

You expected him to leave, having done the bare minimum to check on you, but he just went on standing there. So, you just went on waiting… for what felt like an eternity. You had a feeling that he was teetering on the edge of saying something and you gave him an inquisitive look, one of your eyebrows lifting of its own accord.

Finally, his green eyes rose from staring at his boots and landed on your face. He seemed to decide something in that moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“… ‘it’?”

“The hunt. How you got that fresh scar?” he asked, inclining his chin and his eyes flashing toward what had obviously been a good gash on your forehead.

You turned away from him again, trying hard to suppress the flash of fear you felt from changing your expression, and leaned on the railing again, looking out over the junkyard. “Not really,” you murmured.

“Not really or just not to me?” he asked. You were a little surprised at his bluntness and turned to look at him again, but you didn’t say anything. You straightened up again and after giving him one last, long look you sighed.

“I, uhh… I think I’m just gonna head out,” you said. “This was—whatever Bobby was thinking, I just—I’m gonna go.”

You could see Dean chewing the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly, his lips pressed together again. When he spoke there was an edge to his voice. “Sure. Go. I guess the good thing is I’m not surprised this time,” he said.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut and the air rushed out of your lungs like it had been forced. “What?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You run. When things get hard, you leave. How many other people have you left in your wake in the past six months, hmm? And here I am, fucking stupid enough to somehow experience it twice. Well, at least this one is mostly on Bobby.”

You were breathing fast and hard now, anger and hurt boiling in your chest. “I ran? That’s what you think happened? I just—I just up and ran? Dean Winchester is the sole victim.”

“No, I—”

“It couldn’t have had anything to do with the person I cared about more than anything else in this world lying to me, for months, and betraying my trust over and over again. No, that wasn’t it!” Your tone was dangerous and rising in volume along with your anger.

“I never said that I didn’t fuck up!” Dean roared back. “But you didn’t stick around long enough to even try to fix it—so I obviously,” his jaw clenched, “we obviously didn’t mean that much to you if you were able to just go tearing off like you did!”

You stared at him, incensed at his accusation. Your fists were clenched so tight your fingernails were digging into your palms, and you didn’t give a shit that Sam and Bobby could probably hear every single word.

“I couldn’t even get you on the goddamn phone,” Dean said. “You were just gone! Do you know what Sam and I thought? For months, we thought you were going to go barreling into something and get yourself killed, which is what started this whole thing in the first place! And now you show up here with that new scar on your forehead—what the hell have you been doing? A vamp nest? Jesus, Y/N, do you think you’re fucking invincible? You need back up!”

You broke your dangerous silence violently. “I had fucking back up! I had back up!” you yelled, sounding almost desperate. Dean’s anger broke at that exact moment and he watched you turn away from him again, slumping your weight down onto the railing. “I had fucking back up…” you said quietly.

Dean’s mind was whirring and he had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

You were staring down at your clasped hands. “You really think all I do is run? That’s what you think of me? Well, guess what? I didn’t. My hunter partner, one of my oldest friends, got caught and he tried to tell me to get out and I didn’t. I stayed. And you know what happened? They killed him in front of me and they turned me. I woke up with my head split open and the worst—I somehow managed to fight the bloodlust, murder those sons of bitches, and give myself the cure.” You sighed heavily, hanging your head and shutting your eyes, before straightening up again and looking at Dean. He thought he saw tears starting glisten in your eyes. “So, running or staying, I guess I can’t win.”

Dean was at a loss… He had said so much in hurt, in anger. He felt like a complete jackass. “Y/N, I—”

But you interrupted him and held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, Dean. I’m just… I’m just frickin’ tired. From all of it.” You stepped past him and grasped the screen door handle when he interrupted you again.

“No,” he said suddenly, forcefully. “No. This time I’m not just gonna let you go.” There was a fire suddenly blazing in his green eyes, making it look like the hues in his irises were dancing.

“Let me?”

“That was maybe the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life,” he said. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to fight with me, I want to fight with you. Because I can’t go on like this, pretending that I’ve just moved on and that I’m fine with you not being in my life anymore because I’m not. I have to try. So, let’s fight. And, if at the end of it, you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can—I can try and live with that, because at least I’ll know I tried.”

You peered at him in bewilderment, your hand still on the screen door, but slowly your fingers slipped from it and the glassiness in your eyes returned as you looked at him. “You hurt me so badly—”

“I know. And you’re right about everything you said. I betrayed your trust. I lied to you for months, and the whole time Sam was telling me I was being a fucking idiot, and, God, I hate it when he’s right…” Dean gulped and stepped a little closer to you. He wanted so much to break that space barrier between you, just to touch your arm… just to hold your hand. “And if I could go back and do it over again, I wouldn’t be so insecure and so—so terrified. I would do it all differently. But at least allow me to explain to you—” he sighed in frustration. All his words were trying to come out at once. “I thought that because I was trying to protect you that it was justified. I didn’t—I didn’t—” he let out a frustrated growl at himself, that he couldn’t find the words. “Relationships are a partnership. We were a team. And I went completely against that and I made decisions for me and for you without including you. I see that now. And I’m so, so sorry. But then you just left… you just—” Dean felt like his voice was about to break and stopped. “And that hurt me more than I even allowed myself to realize at the time.”

Your face softened as you looked at him, the evening now wearing on and the diminishing light making his eyes look deeply emerald. Dean watched your lips part a little in a soft frown, saw your shoulders fall a little.

“Everyone leaves,” he said, and in that moment you saw the little kid in him, simply afraid of losing again and again and again. “One way or another everyone leaves and I just—I never thought that it would be you.”

That stung like a hot knife between your lungs and you felt off balance. The silence stretched for a long moment before you broke it with a heavy sigh. “To be fair, neither did I,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut along with one of your fists. “I was just so angry and so—it was my fight! And you took that away from me. And I can’t get that back. Can you imagine if I had done that to you? What if I had gone off and killed the thing that killed your mom or your dad without you? And had lied about it to you for months?”

“I know,” Dean said, and took a step toward you. “And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed again, feeling like the last of your walls had just come tumbling down, like Dean had pulled one brick out from the bottom and the whole structure collapsed. “Me too.” You realized that, in a way, by leaving as you did you had betrayed his trust in turn.

“Y/N, you have to know that you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Every day. Still. Always.”

You felt yourself, your resolve, crumbling further. Dean took another step toward you. “If you don’t feel anything for me anymore, then—please, just tell me right now and I swear I won’t—I won’t bother you again. And I’ll tell Bobby where he can shove his meddling."

You could only gulp nervously and go on looking back at him, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. You wondered at how earlier in the evening you could barely look at each other and now you couldn’t stop. You felt tears stinging your eyes again and let out a wry laugh, blinking them away. “You’re an idiot,” you said through a teary smile.

Dean stepped a bit closer, his eyes not leaving your face. “I know.”

“This isn’t all just magically fixed—”

“I know,” he said again, his voice now a bit breathy. He was so close you swore you could almost feel the deep timbre in your chest, feel the heat of him, the weight of him.

You stared at him and only had one more second of indecision before you gave in. “Well… kiss me, you idiot.”

Dean didn’t need telling twice. You collided as if you hadn’t spent any time apart. Dean’s arm wrapped around your lower back and his other hand tangled in your hair. The kiss was fierce, insistent and you felt like you were clay softening in a sculptor’s hands. It was blissful to be melting into him again. It felt like you had been underwater for months and were finally able to come up for air. Dean was your air and you drew in deep lungfuls. He deepened the kiss and his hand pressed harder on your lower back, pushing you into him, your body arching against his. He clasped your face and kissed you desperately. Slowly his lips softened on yours and became pleading, gentle, and finally he pulled away slightly and heaved in a deep breath, leaning his forehead against yours, both of you breathless with your eyes closed. Your fingers trailing lightly down his back were familiar and felt like home. Your arm around his neck was comforting, safe. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes and your heart leaped at being able to study his eyes and count the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“God, I missed you,” he said softly.

You smiled a little at him, still a little overwhelmed. “I missed you.”

His face turned suddenly serious again and he placed a kiss gently on the new scar on your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that—and I’m—I’m really sorry about your friend.”

Your eyes fell. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Dean’s hands were resting gently on your hips now and you took in another deep breath, just thinking of how much time you had wasted when you should have been right there with him… True, there was work to be done, trust to be repaired, but this felt like someone had just turned on the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Suddenly, hushed voices just inside drew both of your attention and you caught a glimpse of Bobby shouldering Sam out of the way and both of them trying to sneak back up the hallway, rather unsuccessfully.

You laughed and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh no…”

Dean gave you a comical look. “This is going to go right to Bobby’s head.”

“He’s going to go on a total power trip,” you agreed.

“Ehh… honestly, I think given the consequences of his actions I’m kind of okay with it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dean pulled you in for another kiss before you could set your heels back down…

[clemanime]

Phone Calls and Blindfolds

HEARING

A/N: Hi... I’m here. I’m alive. I haven’t been motivated. I just wanted to put something out today. Hope you enjoy some Dean Winchester... hehehe

WARNING: smut, unprotected sex, spanking?, and a blindfold

"I’m sorry for missing your call. I’m either busy studying or working. Please leave a short message and I’ll try to get back to you. Thank you.”

Dean’s leg bounced as he sat in his bedroom, calling again and waiting patiently for her to answer the phone. He missed her voice. Hunts were becoming more difficult because every sound made reminded him of the night before. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t weak to her voice. No answer. “Shit.” He sighed, shaking his head.

His eyes glanced over to the blindfold that sat on his bed, shaking his head before taking it and placing it in his bedside dresser. Just as he closed the small dresser, his cellphone rang. He quickly answered, placing the phone to his ear.

There was a silence before she finally spoke. “Dean?” She questioned. “What did I tell you about calling me constantly?” Her voice was soft but stern.

     “I’m s-sorry.” Dean fumbled. “I just thought...”

     “You may be a hunter but remember I’ve knocked you on your ass before.” There was a smile on her voice. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

Dean looked over to the dresser, rubbing his face before opening his mouth. “I bought one.” He stated.

     “Bought what?” She teased.

     “Don’t make me say it.” Dean scoffed as she laughed.

     “How am I supposed to know what it is if you don’t tell me Dean.”

Dean shivered, blinking for a moment before pulling the fabric from the dresser. “A blindfold.” He mumbled.

     “Oh?” She smirked, moving around for a moment. “Who’s it for? Me or you?” Dean became flustered at her question.

     “It’s for either of us.”

Her chuckled send a chill through him. “I think it’s for you Dean.” She spoke, letting out of relaxed sigh. “As tough as you want to appear... I think you want me to dominate you.” When he didn’t speak she continued. “Something about a strong woman turns you on doesn’t it?” There was a audible gulp. “Good to know.”

Dean moved the phone from his ear, shaking his head as he looked down at his hard member. He could hear her singing his name through the phone. “When are you getting back?” He asked, laying down in bed. He undid his belt and the button of his jeans.

     “Slow down there cowboy.” She purred. “Take your time. And I should be back Saturday.” He slowly unzipped his pants, staring down at the bulge hidden by his boxers. “Finals aren’t easy and before you say it... being in the bunker with you makes it hard to concentrate. Especially when you want to touch me.”

     “Your skin is so soft.” Dean groaned, palming himself.

     “Oh Dean.” She whispered. “You flatter me.”

     “I’m serious.” His voice deepened as he watched his own hand moving, wanting it to be replaced with hers.

     “Dean.” The way she said his name made him melt, his body heating up with need. “Are you touching what’s mine?”

     “I couldn’t wait.” Dean spoke quickly. “It’s been a week.”

     “It’s not even close to Saturday and you’re already breaking.” She chuckled. “You’re weaker than I expected you to be cowboy. The big and bad Dean Winchester can take out a Vamp or a werewolf... but can’t keep from touching himself whenever he’s on the phone with me. His Mistress.”

Dean groaned in response.

     “If you’re going to start something...” She let out a soft moan, knowing it would send his body into a frenzy. “Then finish it.”

     “Yes Mistress.” Dean went to reach in his boxers but stopped.

     “I can hear the hesitation.” Dean groaned. “You’re probably laying there with your hand right at the edge of your boxers, wanting so badly to touch it. Am I right?”

     “Yes.” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as the dull pain from being extremely hard started to set in.

     “You know what you need to do then.”

Dean huffed and opened his eyes again, imagining her sitting at the edge of the bed, her eyes watching him closely. That enticing smirk on her soft lips as she spoke to him, instructing him on what he needed to do. A simple procedure that would allow him access to his own pleasure. “It hurts Mistress.” He started. “I’m sorry for starting without asking but please let me continue and I promise I’ll ask first.” He stiffened the more he spoke. “Please Mistress I need to cum tonight. I’ve missed you so much that everything reminds me of you. It’s so fucking difficult concentrating on a case when you’re not here to put me in check.” Dean watched a small damp spot appeared on his boxers, surprising himself as precum continued to leak. “Shit.” He whispered.

     “How far did you get?” She questioned. “Is it out?”

     “No. I’ve still got my boxers on.”

     “What are you waiting for?” She questioned.

He pushed his boxers down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. His stiff member stood at attention, waiting for further instructions. “Do I start?” He panted.

     “Wait for a second.” She whispered, rummaging around on the other end of the call. Dean waited in anticipation and excitement, he knew she was grabbing her vibrator, smirking when he heard the silent vibration before it disappeared. “Start slow and don’t pick up speed until I tell you to.”

     “Yes ma’am.” Dean wrapped his large hand around his cock, slowly stroking it as he let out a groan.

     “Fuck.” She gasped in his ear.

     “S-so good.”

Dean tried his hardest to keep a steady pace but he wanted to go faster, the need to release growing every time his finger passed over the head of his cock. “Dean.” She moaned out. His grip tightened slightly, pumping faster. His eyes closed, mouth falling open as he thrust his hips. She could hear him getting closer, a primal-like growl erupting from his throat. “Not yet.” She says quickly.

Dean stopped, shaking his head. “Just let me cum woman.” He said through gritted teeth.

     “What?” She questioned. “Wanna try that one again Dean?”

     “Don’t do this to me.” Dean groaned. “I’ve been waiting all day and I need to cum before I’ll lose my mind.”

     “Cute but I’m the one in control Dean. Remember?”

He groaned.

     “Good boy.” She moaned out. “Now... I’ll talk to you later Dean.”

     “What?” Dean sat up, shocked.

     “Dean you called me while I was in the middle of something.” She said quickly. “If you really want to finish go ahead.” She hung up, leaving him high and dry.

     “Son of a bitch!”

Sam looked up from his book, watching Dean storming through the library. He was in the process of putting his jacket on, keys in hand. “I’ll be back in a week.” He said. The younger Winchester chuckled and went back to his reading.

Dean sped down the highway like a bat out of Hell, avoiding accidents, and slowing down when there was a cop around. He was determined to make the four hour trip in less than half that. When he arrived, the clock read 1 in the morning. She wasn’t going to expect and he didn’t care if she was going to give him an ear full for it.

He knocked on the door, pacing back and forth on the porch before banging on it. “Y/n!” He yelled. “Open the door before I kick it down!”

     “Kick it down and I’ll fucking kill you Dean Winchester!” He could hear her yell back.

She yanked her front door open, looking up at the extremely frustrated and tired looking Winchester. Sighing, she let him in, closing the door. Before she could question him, Deans lips were pressed against hers. She accepted his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, only to have them removed and placed behind her back. “We made a deal. No part of it mentioned you leaving me high and dry.”

     “But it was fun.” She teased. “I had a feeling you’d drive all the way here. But you got here faster than I expected to I’m not ready.”

     “Don’t worry about that. I’ll do it for you.” He pulled her up the stairs, kicking her bedroom door open.

     “You’re pushing it Dean.” She warned, but he didn’t care, pushing her to sit on the edge of her bed. He dug in his back pocket and pulled out the blindfold. “Is that for you or me?”

     “You tell me.” His voice, low and seductive.

     “Then what are you waiting for Cowboy? Put it on me.” She bit her bottom lip, knowing what would set him off.

Dean put the blindfold over her eyes, tying it tight so it wouldn’t come loose. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his other pocket and grabbed her wrists. He handcuffed her to one of the bars of her platform framed bed, putting her in a position that allowed him access. “Comfortable?” He pulled down her pajama bottoms, giving one of her cheeks a hard smack. She yelped, body jerking from the pain.

She grew needy when he disappeared from behind her, leaving her handcuffed to her own bed in a compromising position. “Dean?” She questioned.

     “Right here baby cakes.” He whispered in her ear, sending a visible shiver through her. “Open.” She opened her mouth, gagging when he shoved his fingers down her throat. “Get them nice and wet for me.” She sucked and licked on his fingers, swirling her tongue around and between his middle and ring finger. “Good girl.” He disappeared again, moving in silence. She could only hear silence, until his fingers inserted themselves inside of her tight cunt.

She mewled, body writhing with need as he fingered her relentlessly. “Dean.” She cried out, circling her hips.

He stopped, smacking the same cheek to stop her. “Don’t move.” He continued his movement., pumping his fingers in and out. “I’m not making anymore deals with you.” He leaned over so that his lips were to her ear. “I said you can dom only if I get to cum. Yet you go back on that part.”

     “Dean.” She trembled as his finger tips brushed against her sweet spot.

     “What do you say?” He questioned.

     “I’m sorry Sir.” She whimpered, gasping when he pulled his fingers out and rubbed them against her clit. “Please!” She cried out.

     “Begging to cum?” He asked, chuckling. “Why should I let you cum after what you did.”

     “I won’t do it again! I promise!” She felt herself dancing on the edge.

When he pushed his fingers in deeper, she climaxed. “See how easy that was?” Dean pulled his fingers out, licking her release off of his fingers. “As sweet as ever.”

     “Can you take the blindfold off?” She questioned.

     “No.” He said, far from her now. “I’m not done with you yet.”

She heard a small click and the soft hum of her vibrator. “Open.” He said, in front of her. “You know what to do.” She opened her mouth, sucking on the small device. Dean pulled it out of her mouth and moved around her, smirking to himself as he probed her ass with it. She gasped, balding her hands into fists. “Relax.” He ran the back of his hand down her back. He pushed the vibrator in, watching as she whimpered and arched. “Just like that.” She trembled, climaxing again. “Felt that good?” He questioned.

She groaned in response, body still recovering from her release. “No more.” She receiving silence as a response. “Dean? Please?”

     “I’m right here darling.” He rubbed his thumb along her slit, humming at the wetness that collected on his thumb. “You get this wet for me.” He moved so that he was behind her again, rubbing the head of his cock against her slick folds.

Dean relentlessly pounded into her, holding her hips as he pulled her back against him with every thrust. She called his name, back arching. She bit her bottom lip, hands gripping her mattress, trying to ground herself. She felt her climax building again, letting out a cry of pleasure. “Fuck!”

     “Not yet.” He pulled out, slapping her ass. “You’re a mess aren’t you. This must be torture for you huh?” She whimpered, shaking her head in response. “No? Want me to keep going?” She nodded quickly. “It’s not punishment if you like it.” He slammed back into her. Thrusting quickly to build her up again only to take it away from her.

She was losing her grip, eyes watering as she bit hard on her bottom lip. Her moans were growing weaker due to her losing her voice. “Please Sir! I need to cum!” She hollered. “I can’t hold it in anymore!”

Dean kept up the pace, moving one of his hands so that he could rub his middle fingers against her clit. She shivered, mouth falling open but no sound coming out. She tightened around him, releasing a groan as he spilled inside of her. She relaxed, her body going limp. Dean kissed her shoulder blade and climbed off the bed, walking around and uncuffing her wrists. He kissed them and rubbed his thumb across the bruises that were beginning to form.

     “Are you okay?” His voice was soft when he spoke.

    “Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m okay.”

Dean pulled the blindfold off and looked into her eyes, smirking at the euphoric look in her eyes. “Again?” He quesitoned.

     “Again.” She nodded.

[deanirae]

Can you get it inside your head I’m tired of dancing?  

post 8.07 pre 8.08] crack/angst past turned unrequited deancas, implied deanbenny 2,4k [x]

The sun, also currently known as bitch, has got some serious nerve to sit where it always does, not upside down and nine miles to the left as it frankly should on this memorable fuckhat day. Where is the End of Days when it's really called for? When it should be really nigh?

Dean flips the front mirror panel down not to have to deal with at least that one disappointment. He can still see Cas's half-constipated, half-abandoned and kicked in its fluffy ass puppy face in the mercilessly annoying reflection. The obvious choice would be to not grace it with anything right now, but A – he's the one driving so his eyes can't wander off pretty far, especially in the barely sunlit grayness – and B – on his left, Sam is currently roleplaying a twelve year old girl that has her big emotional introspection accompanied by listening to Sarah McLahlan because her mean parents wouldn't let her buy ebola from the internet. Or something.

Point is, he's three hours into ostentatiously moping, trying to quietly terrorize Dean into making peace with Cas on the fly so it won't be awkward and problematique for him anymore. To Sam, Dean is just too inconvenient anytime he's inconvenient. And that, by order of nature herself, demands immediate and final stopping and ballot recounting also.

And Dean's point is, that it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

And Cas's point – assuming he’s still remotely capable of making those –  seems to be dead-set on that 50:50 face thing. And Dean regrets briefly glancing; with more or less the same intensity he regrets his whole life on the crap weather days his bones hurt harder than it should be legal.

Sam, in his hemhorroidal disturbance, reaches out to the tape deck and attempts to put anything on, but Dean feels like exactly zero of his tapes right now, so he swats Sam's hand off with a loud smack. Judging from the faces he gets for that, it's gotta be resonating in their heads a lot.

It's gonna be a long ride to Lousiana, way longer and more exhausting than the freshly puked from Purgatory one. In fact, the closer they get to Lafayette, the more tired he is and they won't start working the vetalas case until tomorrow night because apparently hanging around clubs on fridays is the new hanging downside of trees or whatever cool thing it was vetalas were doing before the rise of the all you can eat buffet of horny dicks certain they're gonna get reverse cowgirls for a two dollar drink. Or reverse cowboys. Fucking cheapskates. Some of them do have it coming. But in severe STDs, not in this.

In itself, waiting for the actual hunt really doesn't need to be a problem. It's just that Sam and Cas are fucked-bent on having it be one because—

“I said I'm going to stay with you and join you on hunts,” Cas finally snaps. „There's no need for this 'backup' as you call it, Dean.”

—Because that.

“Don't air quote it, man,” Dean mutters wearily, because of course Cas air quoted it.

“And there is absolutely no need for you to sleep in a vampire's camping truck when we have plenty of motels to pick from,” Cas rants on, zero deterred and plus ten determined, clearly not tuning into Dean's I don't wanna discuss that vibe.

Annnd because that too, yeah.

“Well I donno, I sure didn't want us to look like some sort of a hookup site for salvation army fashionistas threesome. You'll thank me later. Or you can do it now and shut up when you're done, how's that.”

“A vampire,” Sam interrupts his polished bitchface just to whine it out, which has to be peak brotherly care by his modern standards.

“You two asshats had no problem leaving me in vamp-vegas for a goddamn year,” Dean growls. “I am an adult adult and I need some me-time that isn't you time. And I'm gonna have awesome time while I'm at it. Sue me if that's a crime. Bother my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer”, says Sam.

“Aren’t you kind of a lawyer?” Dean remembers suddenly. “Or at least close enough for you two to bother each other and not me?”

“No, didn’t get to get there yet, thanks to you,” Sam mutters, also suddenly remembering the past life of his that was never meant to be.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Dean whines. “Did I set your girlfriend on fire?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you missed me,” as if triggered by the word fuck, Cas drops the bomb with an evenness in his voice which hints at many things but Dean's brain is too stop-record screech to dissect them right now.

“What?” he blurts out, confused and affronted both.

“I thought you missed me,” Cas repeats, lower and harder like Dean's a stupid cat that won't spit out what it's chewing.

“Cas, I really don't wanna do this.”

“You kept praying to me to come back, Dean. After you were out of Purgatory. I heard you. Those were quite some prayers. Now you're putting yourself in real danger just to stay away from me. I don’t understand.”

Sam just stares at Dean, the always most helpful thing on the planet that he is. Thanks, Sam. Dean stares at the road. Cas stares daggers through the back of Dean's head. Poor Baby can't just leave this situation so she just keeps on rollin’. Nobody wins that day.

“That was before you told me you were lying your ass off just to kick me out last minute. Your subscription for my prayers and personal Jesus license have now expired, by the way. Like, the fuck does talking to you even do?”

“Fine!” Castiel snaps, so close to throwing his hands in the air for a grand effect but luckily thinking better of it since he's in a car that has a roof among other things. “I understand that you're angry—” he tries to start over, calmer, after a self-collecting breath.

“No, you don't,” Dean mutters.

“But you can't risk your life in the stupidest available way just to get back at me, Dean. Not after everything I've done to make sure you come back safe.”

Well at least he didn't include Sam in that „saving” part.

“You were there, man. You know Benny never double crossed me or you. What the exact fuck is your problem with him?”

A very angry squint-frown precedes the actual answer.

“You were his ticket to Earth. Now your life doesn't hold the same value.”

“Thanks, Cas. That's really swee—”

“You know that's not what I meant, Dean,” Cas growls in a tone that's clearly a final warning.

So final even Sam and his high horse must have heard since he steps in to defuse Cas.

“Cas, I'm not a fan of saying it, but Benny isn't a threat to Dean. I think the guy is kinda trying to settle,” he offers.

Dean smiles a little bit.

“See, Cas?”

“But I'm worried he might have more vamps trying to take him down because he pissed off every fang that ever knew him and then some. This is actual danger, Dean.”

“What?!” Castiel explodes in unbridled rage.

“Sam, have you ever wondered where do snitches go after they die?”

“Dean, you know I'm serious.”

“Ditches,” Dean concludes.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Castiel asks coldly. “After you get killed by vampire avengers?”

“They're all taken care of, Cas. No mean jokes this time. Relax.”

“With your Winchester luck? I doubt it.”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you wouldn't bring me back even if something did happen.”

“Yes, even twice because first I would have personally destroyed you for being so reckless.”

“I know you would.”

“Guys,” Sam tries to placate, “we should all calm down and rethink how to handle it safely. It's not a good time for some jilted lovers tiff”, he begs.

Dean frowns then makes mocking faces at him to communicate that he's being a fucking douche.

“You're a fucking jilted lovers tiff,” he decides.

“We had sex, Dean,” Castiel states accusatorily.

Little does he know, he just broke Sam beyond repair. Now that the cat is out of the bag, the only thing Dean can do is to straighten some things out.

“Once,” he says, raising a finger to accentuate his point. “Cas was sure we were gonna die in the morning. We didn't, but there never was a follow up on that, so,” Dean shrugs.

“You weren't interested.”

“Says you,” Dean huffs. “I’m sorry, do you know me? Being interested in sex is in my top five pasttimes. You behaved like a brick on the other hand and I don’t know how to read concrete.”

“I don’t want to be here, good fucking God,” Sam finally yelps after a successful reboot of his brain.

Dean’s pretty sure nobody wants to be in this car right now and the only goddamn thing that could potentially make him ‘special’ right now is the fact currently Sam’s probably the only person in the Impala who has not lain his mouth on Cas’s dick. Hopefully.

Funnily enough, Cas could easily poof out without lethal injuries, but he’s dead set on staying, judging from the frown on his face that looks like a stock market crash diagram.

“I didn’t exactly see you giving me any signs.”

And set on having this conversation.

“I’m not a cat, I don’t go into heats, Cas. Can we talk about it somewhere more private? Later? Cuz everybody here wants to fucking die right now.”

“Private?” Cas asks. “If you want privacy to talk then why do you refuse to book a room with me?”

“We don’t need to share a room to have a conversation. Unless what you want it to end with is getting back on track with that last night on Earth thing we had that one time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam cries.

“Grow up and stow your crap, Sam,” Cas says unexpectedly before Dean could even bother to serve anything in a similar note.

Dean is so thrown off his equilibrium by that he puts the car to an abrupt halt. Only because he’s too deeply wired to not crash the Impala into the first available so he won’t accidentally kill Sam.

That is, if Cas’s words haven’t obliterated him already. He glances at him, just in case. Speechless as holily commanded by the celestial – potentially horny – wrath from the back seat, but at least he’s still breathing.

“Um,” he says, because someone’s gotta, because he’s still the big brother in this demented equation. “Cas, what the fuck was that?”

“Should you, of all people, really need me to be this blunt – now that the worst affairs have been settled, we could pick up where we left off, and hopefully reach a mutual understanding regarding the nature of our relationship so that doubt no longer hinders you. If it’s still something that interests you, of course. Would that be clear and direct enough, Dean?”

Well, that was… long? Long enough citations are probably needed, but, uh, yeah. S’ gotta be addressed immediately or else.

“Cas, that was 2010 and we have 2012 now.”

“It was 2012 when you prayed to me in Purgatory and it was 2012 four days ago. Granted, your feelings towards me might be very complicated, but I still can sense and read your longing,” Cas says with a weary sigh.

“Stop smelling my longing,” Dean responds with a wearier one. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But I should explain myself to you.”

“I’m real fed up with your explanations, you know that? And we don’t got time for that, either. We need to get to Lafayette because we got a case waiting to get solved.”

“It’s because he’s waiting there for you, isn’t it,” Cas says sadly; not a question. A statement.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. Doesn’t feel like it, too.

Yeah. It’s good to actually have someone waiting for you; someone there.

Maybe it’s not that complicated, after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Dean starts the car. He’s got a place to go to.

The sound apparently wakes Sam from his stupor. His bright idea of the day, he turns the radio on before the awkward silence can make the universe inside of the Impala collapse on itself and on all three of them. Too late for Dean to react now; might as well get a load of the weather report.

In the back seat, Cas flicks his wrist subtly and the monotone voice sharply cuts off into static for a moment and the frequency bar moves elsewhere on its’ – or rather, Cas’s – own.  Some solitary synthesiser-made sounds drop one after another like tiny steps and Dean realizes he definitely has heard this song before at some point in his life as eighties one hit wonders ain’t no strangers to him. Oh well. Might as well not get any of the wea—

Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?

Is he fucking kidding?!

Came back only yesterday, I’m moving farther away.... Want you near me…

“Are you fucking kidding?” Dean cries out, incredulous.

Tries to turn the radio off but it just won’t die.

All I needed was the love you gave— “You want melodramatic? I’ll give you melodramatic.” —All I needed for another day — Dean reaches out for his phone and starts typing angrily — and all I ever knew, only you.

He puts on good ol’ Fish and hopes it’s gonna be louder than Cas’s synth-pop loving. And starts driving towards where he wants to be cause he’s tired of dancing.

[romansrace]

Season 13 Sassy Reviews: Episode 03 ‘Phenomenon’

FINALLY it feels like this season has started. I don’t know if this is American psyche coming through - or white twink fandom energy - sorry bout it - but what were the producers THINKING sorting the dolls into losers and winners and expecting the broader LGBTQ fandom to root for the winners while they crowed and rubbed it in the losers’ faces?? If we ever needed proof that the franchise was losing touch with creating queer content for queer people...

Anyway, onto the review!

So once again arbitrarily despite the ‘drama’ of the first episode, episode 3 gives us...exactly the same setup as season 12 minus the depression porn and literal onscreen-created catfighting of psychologically tormenting the queens. Once again for this episode - for now the fourth time - we have a double runway mini-challenge and then a song-choreo-personal verse maxi challenge. (It was enjoyable as hell, but part of me also missed the water tank - cmon S14!)

Thankfully there was much less to be critical about this time because all 6 (broadly) of these girls were immediately much more likeable this time by bonding over their shared trauma (a queer staple, of course) rather than immediately launching into bigging themselves up and turning on who they perceived to be an outsider and a loser.

Crucially, the exact opposite happened given that this group of mainly young queens also had a ready-made outsider ready to go in the shape of the much older Tamisha Iman, who not only has at least 15 years on any of the others, but also has biological children, suggesting she may be bisexual - something which would have drawn the queens’ ire in earlier seasons. But instead, Tamisha was treated throughout with respect and admiration, which for this viewer, was incredibly affirming & raised my respect for both Tamisha and everyone involved. (Also Tamisha’s talking heads are life-giving!)

Runway categories for the mini were ‘Lady’ and ‘Vamp’ - but the looks weren’t too different to the Day & Night looks E02 brought, so it might have been the same prompt for both sets. For me Tamisha easily won the first category - not since Chad, I think, have I seen an older queen really lean into her age and play a convincing MILF archetype on the runway, with Rosé taking the top placement for the second. On average, I would give the mini win to Rosé as her first look was also easily in the top half. No-one’s looks were bad though, and although Joey Jay came in for criticism for having the same hair in both looks... sorry, but I don’t see anyone coming for Michelle for having wavy black hair for the best part of 18 seasons, or Ru for rarely vying away from an oversized blonde or brightly-coloured big Dolly backcomb. Sort your own house first.

On to the maxi challenge, and once again the standard was extremely high generally, although Kahmora Hall was a glaring level below the others. I lived for Tamisha’s side-eye through the choreo arguments on the runway, finally stepping in Phoebe Buffay-style to take each of the children by the ear and make them see sense rather than wasting all the time talking over each other.

Throughout the episode, Kahmora did seem to be struggling. Her looks were decent on the runway for the mini and maxi, but she struggled with time management, and although having a performance challenge come early in the season probably didn’t play in her wheelhouse, the former issue would have hampered her no matter what kind of challenge came up. Suffice it to say, I’m heavily revising my pre-show prediction that she’d make it to 5th now that I’ve seen her in action.

The performance, when we got to it, easily blew the E02 girls out of the water, in my opinion the confidence some of the girls exuded would have made it worthy of an All Stars performance, and in this case, having three choreographers out of the 6 queens certainly didn’t hurt! Most of the queens absolutely killed the group choreo, individual choreo, and their verses, with particular standouts for me being Denali (who was given a top 2 placement ultimately) and Joey Jay (who wasn’t). The other top 2 went to Rosé, who admittedly was absolutely electrifying on stage during the maxi performance, but strangely seemed to drop the ball with the main challenge runway and later, with her top 2 performance.

Rosé is at this point the most interesting of the queens to me, but not in the way I imagined pre-season she might be. What’s exceptionally striking to me is that, like her sister Jan in the season before her, Rosé came into this competition claiming to be an all-rounder queen with broad competence and a specialisation in professional-standard performance skills. That profile is very much what the challenges and her treatment - and her plotted story arc - unlike for Jan, when she was pigeonholed into ‘the singer’ and nothing else, are being tailored to. But it’s not what she’s giving us.

Rosé decided to give for this main challenge runway, despite her already-stated skillset, the financial resources and general professonalism we know she has, and a reputation for being polished and reliable, an extremely strange, crafty - yes, I’ll say it - homemade-looking pink and blue plastic-esque runway with odd sleeves not a million miles from something Baga Chipz would barely escape a low placement wearing on the Drag Race UK runway. That also made her look significantly bigger than she is, with no indication that was deliberate.

And when it came to her top 2 lipsync... she gave us a comedy performance! Despite just showing us in the main challenge she can be absolutely riveting giving a professional dance and face display as you’d expect from any seasoned club and live performer. Similarly, she fumbled in her E01 lipsync against Olivia Lux. It’s a tactic that confuses me when obviously she is capable of bringing it and killing the challenge enough to land top 2 even after a very subpar runway element.

This win though went convincingly to Denali, who killed the main challenge with a catchy verse and the best performance of the night incorporating acrobatics, several high kicks and a jump split while not missing a word of her verse. She nailed down the win with a truly epic lipsync bringing several difference dance specialisms and once again a word-perfect lipsync while serving Tatianna-worthy face, face, face the whole way through. She’s still my top 2 with Tamisha out of all the girls.

So next week will be finally bringing all the queens together. My prediction for the queen to go - if we FINALLY have one, after 3 weeks! - is now leaning towards Kahmora Hall. This challenge performance didn’t leave me thinking she’d be able to beat almost any of the others in a lipsync, especially now we’ve seen them all lipsync once and perform a dance routine twice. The weakest dancers left all come from, in my opinion, the first group, but I also think all of Kandy, Tina and Gottmik will be producer faves who are ringfenced towards the latter half of the competition. The only question that remains to me is whether Rosé will join them, as I predicted pre-season, or whether she’ll be Janned off in favour of e.g. Denali.

At this stage, I quite hope so!

[imagine-that]

“Hey! Are you new here?” A voice says from behind you.

You nervously and quickly turn around, your reflexes on high radar.

“Oh uh... hi.” You say awkwardly, taking in the blonde in front of you.

She smiles. “You must be our newest recruit. Y/n y/l/n. I’m Lizzie.” She says politely.

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah I am. I’m sorry for my behaviour, I’m a tad jumpy.” You explain. “And a bit shy.” You add, staring intently at the ground and wishing to just sink into it.

“Well that’s... ok.” She says hesitantly, giving you a one over as if trying to put together a puzzle. “I’ll be your tour guide by the way.” She finishes, looking you in the eye again with a relaxed smile.

“Alright. Sounds good to me.” You say, surprising yourself with the confidence in your voice.

“So this is the Salvatore boarding school, as I’m sure you already know.” She starts as she walks, you following carefully behind.

As she shows you every aspect of the grounds, more and more people try to say hello.

“Hey sis. Who’s thi- where’d they go?” A cheerful looking brunette asks as she joins Lizzie. Lizzie sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Y/n. She is just my sister. You don’t need to run off.” She says loudly. You cautiously go back to her from your hiding spot.

Over the course of the day, you’d jumped at every point of possible interaction with anyone but her. You’d hidden behind several trees, on the roof, in a closet, a classroom and oddly enough in the rafters of the ceiling. After a few hours of the constant disappearing act, Lizzie has just gotten used to it.

“Hi... I’m- I’m y/n.” You say in a whisper, feeling your face go bright red as you greet the other girl. She smiles and goes to shake your hand, causing you to run half way across the school.

“Y/n!” Lizzie shouts. After a moment of hesitation, you go back to the pair.

“I think I should probably go.” Her sister says awkwardly, stepping back with a friendly wave and then retreating to a corner with another girl watching it all happen.

“Great. Now I’m the weird disappearing kid.” You mutter.

“Hey. Don’t worry. Everyone here is pretty understanding.” Lizzie says with a smile. You awkwardly smile back.

The two of you walk together back out to the sports stands outside and she takes a seat.

“So, I’m guessing by your speed, agility and ability to jump into random high spots that you’re a vamp?” She giggles a bit.

You scratch the back of your neck. “Yeahhhh... I’m sorry. I just... I’ve been in hiding for so long it just feels... foreign to be near other people like me.” You admit, feeling the heat rush in your face.

“In hiding? What from?” Lizzie asks curiously.

You laugh a bit. “More like from who. That’d be Klaus Mikaelson.” You reply and she scoffs.

“Another Mikaelson messing up everything for everyone.” She mutters angrily.

“What do you mean another one?” You ask curiously, sitting next to her.

“His daughter is here. Hope.” She replies, an extra bit of bitter tone as she says the name.

“Well I guess we both have problems with the same family then?” You say with a smile.

“Looks like it.” She smiles back. She takes a deep breath and then stands back up.

“We should get you to my dads office. You need to get your schedule. And obviously meet the headmaster.” She says, smoothing out her skirt.

You feel yourself tense up a bit.

“Do we... do we have to go back in there? There was a lot of... other people.” You stutter nervously.

“Hey.” She says, stepping closer. “There’s no need to worry. If they try to do anything I’ll do something crazy. Give them something new to spread about mental Lizzie.” She mutters the last bit.

“Mental, really? I mean I get a little pushy and maybe slightly intimidating but mental is a bit of a stretch.” You say with a smile. Lizzie scoffs dramatically but with a smile on her face.

“Well, at least I don’t play how high can I hide out!” She jokes and you laugh.

“Touché.” You smile and the two of you walk, laughing and joking towards her dads office.

——————————————————

“Hey there. Couldn’t help but notice you with Lizzie Saltzman earlier? My condolences.” A girl smirks as she walks up to you.

Once you’d spoken to the headmaster, Lizzie had shown you your room and then she went off on her way.

“I’m... I’m sorry?” You reply, cursing your quick ability to blush nervously and resisting the strong urge to run away.

“Oh nothing. She’s just the queen of over dramatics is all. Really overbearing.” She explains.

“Well I think she’s... she’s... k-kinda cool.” You reply, staring desperately at your shoes.

“Relax. I’m not a wolf, I won’t bite little vamp. But you look like you could use one.” She smiles a little less aggressively and you feel your shoulders relax slightly at the thought of feeding.

As if reading your mind, she offers you a wrist without a word.

“I... I uh... I thought that” you start, taking a deep and shaking breath. “That was against the rules.” You barely finish, mumbling the most of your words.

“So what? I won’t tell of you don’t.” She says, raising her eyebrow as if questioning still. “I’m Penelope by the way.” She adds.

“I think y/n would rather not, Satan.” Lizzie scoffs. Penelope rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Their loss.” She says back. “Be careful of that one vampy.” She adds as a side note before leaving.

“I saw you struggling. Don’t mind HER.” Lizzie says as she sneers at the thought of Penelope.

The two of you talk as you walk to your room.

“You stutter a lot around other people y/n.” She comments thoughtfully.

“Yeah well I don’t like company. I’m a lone wolf.” You laugh. “But oddly enough, this is the first time in centuries I’ve ever NOT ran from someone.” You say with a smile.

“Oh because I’m such a friendly face.” She replies sarcastically.

“I mean, not really but I guess?” You say jokingly.

“You’re very witty for a shy person.” She scoffs back.

“And you’re very blonde for a seemingly smart person.” You laugh back.

“That is such a stereotype.” She laughs in disbelief.

The two of you take digs at each other in a friendly way for the rest of the night, your laughs so loud and often that you both fear you kept the entire school awake.

———————————————————

Three months later...

You paced back and forth, biting your nails thoughtfully.

“There you are!” You whisper shout as Penelope turned the corner.

Over the past few months, she’d continued to pester you until your shyness just quit on you around her out of habit. You’d developed a slight friendship though it was no where near as strong as the one you had with Lizzie.

“Yeah here I am. What?” She says, sinking into an arm chair.

“I think I like Lizzie.” You blurt by accident. You clasp you’re hands on your mouth instantly, your face reddening again.

Penelope sighs. “No. I have to deal with this bull with MG and I am not dealing with it with you too. There is no way you’re falling for the queen of mean.” She groans. You smile awkwardly.

“But there is.” You reply quietly.

Before she can reply, MG walks into the room and you jump up tensely.

“Hey Penelope. Hey y/-“ he begins but before he can finish, you’re gone. He sighs. “How does that kid get through class without jumping into the rafters every time?” He asks Penelope and she shrugs.

“I basically just got them to stop doing that any time I walk into a room near them. You tell me.” She replies.

“I have to go. Have fun with the wicked witch.” Penelope shouts with a smile as she walks after MG after seeing your small wave from the ceiling.

Just as you jump from your beam back down to the floor, Lizzie enters the room.

“Ya know, just once I’d like to come into a room and find you NOT jumping off of something?” She smiles.

“Yeah. That would be something wouldn’t it?” You smile back.

For a moment you feel yourself staring and then you snap out of it, blushing immensely.

“Are you ok? Did someone else come into the room after me?” She asks, looking around her.

“No. No. Just still red from when MG came in I guess...” you mutter.

“Well I have to get to class. You do too. Try not to hide today?” She smiles.

Before replying, you watch her. You feel yourself smile. You loved the way her hair framed her face perfectly. The gleam in her eyes and the smile, surrounded by her perfect lips making you redden even more.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll try.” You manage to say and she watches you sceptically.

“Ok weirdo. See you later.” She finally says after a moment of hesitance.

As she leaves, you feel yourself wonder what it would feel like to tell her your feelings.

But your fear of rejection holds you back, an imaginary rope keeping you pulled away.

You shake off your thoughts and head on your way.

—————————

“So? Did you run off anywhere today? Or did you get through your schedule for once?” Lizzie asks as she struts into your room.

“Oh I got through like three of them. During one class, I ran behind the bleachers and in another I hid in the woods.” You laugh sheepishly.

“Well, you tried.” She reassures you.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“I wish I could be as talkative with others as I am with you. Even with Penelope I feel myself fighting the flight instinct.” You admit.

“See, that’s the only time when you shouldn’t fight it.” She sighs jokingly and you laugh.

“You should just be glad that I have a friend other than you.” You giggle.

“Yeah. I guess.” She replies reluctantly.

The two of you sit in silence and you feel yourself biting your lip.

Suddenly, you just can’t hold back.

“I like you.” You blurt and instantly feel like slapping yourself.

“Well duh, I’m the only person you talk to like ever.” Lizzie replies.

“No. Like, I like you like you. Like, I feel more comfortable with you than I ever have with anyone else. Like, when we’re apart I feel like I’m apart from a part of myself.” You ramble.

Lizzie looks at you, stunned.

“I know that our friendship is so SO important and I would never want to ruin it but I- I uh... felt you should know about this.” You admit, looking away.

Lizzie stands and walks towards you.

Without warning, she grabs your face and kisses you passionately.

She pulls away. “I like you too y/n.” She says with a bright smile.

“You’re just saying that so I don’t get scared and run off and never speak to anyone again.” You accuse flatly.

“I mean, I don’t want you to go mute no. But that was DEFINITELY not me just saying anything. That kiss is proof.” She teases.

You giggle. “True.” You admit.

“Well? I like you. And you like me.” She says. “There. That’s out. Now what?” She finishes.

“We could... kiss again?” You offer with a bright blush.

“I like that idea.” She smiles.

The two of you press your lips on each other’s and kiss again. And again. And again.

Lizzie pulls away and smiles at you.

“What?” You ask with a shy smile.

“Now you’re gonna have to talk with my dad and Josie.” She replies.

The two of you giggle and continue kissing, your fears melting into each one.

[wayward-mikaelson]

Come Back pt 7

Word Count: 3323

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas (Mentioned), and Reader

About: A month after the Reader and Sam slept together, the Reader tries to make it work with Dean who knows something is up but still tries anyways. But all the Reader can think about is Sam. During that time the brothers go on  hunting trip and while they hunt the Reader and Sam can’t stop talking. The morning after they comes back, the reader is welcomed by something unexpected.

Warnings: Language, Unplanned Pregnancy, and Fantasizing 

A/N: I am taking requests as soon as this next part is over! So send them in! 

Tag List: @hobby27​ @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @elansaidaris​ @magssteenkamp​ @squirrelnotsam​

The next month is hard and almost a blur.

As I knew it already, the next morning I wake up feeling just fine. There isn't a shred of guilt or conviction of sleeping with Sam. I lay there in bed thinking about all of it over and over again. The way his hands felt on my bare skin. The way he looked at me when thrusted inside of me. The way our bodies felt against each other. It will forever be embedded into my mind.

I get up and get dressed into something comfortable. When I open the door, there stand Dean in jeans and a t-shirt. The same thing he wore yesterday and what he was wearing while sleeping when I went to peek on him after my 'shower' with Sam.

"Hey," I say catching my breath. "What's up?" My heart races as Dean looks me up and down. I may not feel guilty for having sex with is brother but I surely didn't want him to find out if it isn't through me first.  Good thing I got dressed too, Sam let me take his flannel when i saw that my shirt was wet.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get a quick breakfast and work on Baby with me this before it gets too hot," He says brushing his hair back. Damn that was hot too.

"Um, sure," I say closing my door behind myself.

"Perfect," Dean smiles and leans in and kisses my cheek. "Let me shower up and we will be on our way. I do wish you could join me though and help me get those hard to reach places."  With that he walks away. He probably thinks I'll follow him or that I'll say screw and have sex with im. Not going to happen. One, I had sex with Sam last night. Two, I'm still confused as fuck as to what my feelings for both Winchester brothers are. Finally, three, he must think me stupid or desperate.

I make my way to the kitchen and see Sam already up and dressed and making a smoothie. I have some dirty thoughts about the smoothie and where it all could go so he could lick it all up. If Dean weren't here I would jump onto that real quick, but I remember Sam's words from last night. He's going to wait until I make up my mind.

"Morning," I say standing next to him handing him the spinach.

Sam takes the spinach and smiles. "Morning," He lets his hand brush mine. The movement leaves a trail of goosebumps and a small shiver runs down my spine. "No regerts?" His voice is in a hush tone. "Cause I don't." Sam's takes a step behind me and leans his face down to where I feel his breath on my neck. "In fact, I had a dream where we continued to my room. Sadly, I woke to a hard dick with nowhere to put it in. So I had to take care of myself."

I begin to feel hot and wet. I bite my lip an turn to face Sam whose face is just inches from mine. "I can see how that can be problematic," I whisper as I slowly run my fingertips up his arm. "And no," I then start to trail them down his chest to the waistband of his pants. Sam shifts his legs around. That alone makes me even more wet and the longing for him more urgent. "I don't have any regrets about last night."

Sam senses what I am felling. He lifts his hands and brushes loose strands of hair behind your ear. "Don't get too excited," he whispers. "Unless you want Dean to walk in on us. Cause I can bend you over the counter and get deep inside you."

I smirk and step aside. "You're right," I grab a glass and get some water. "Speaking of Dean, he's taking me to breakfast and we will be working on the impala. To be honest, I don't know how to feel about it."

The rest of the day is a full blown blur. Sam kept busy with some reading while Dean and I worked on the Impala. I have a hard time focusing on helping Dean that I tell Dean that i need to take a break . He offers to come with me and I tell him he should stay and continue on the impala. He nods and continues working.

As I am about to leave Sam spots me. He wonders where I'm going and decides he wants to tag along. I know I should say no because I am actually enjoying my time with Dean and wanted a break to think. How can I think when the younger attractive Winchester is sitting next to me in the car?

Once at the gas station, I go in and tell Sam to just stay put. As I'm grabbing beer and snacks, I see her. The ginger bitch that makes me want throttle her. But I don't because I know I am no better than her. She notices me and stares me up and down. Her look is pure hatred. I ball my fist and move on. She isn't even worth.

Back in the car I pull out the two mini bottles of Captain Morgan and shoot them back. I almost never shoot back straight rum without mixing it. The burn of the alcohol coats my throat and I start to feel the buzz. Sam watches and take the keys from me.

"Hey," I say tossing the bottles in the back.

"Nope," Sam is already out and motioning me to the passenger seat. "I'm not going to let you drive after you just downed those. Are you okay?" He starts the car and before I answer the ginger walks out and I  stare at her as she walks away. I envision of me pull her to the back alley behind the gas station and putting the fear of God into her. Sam notices and pulls the car out of the parking lot before I act on my thoughts.

"Do you think I should confront Dean about what he did? Or should I see if he tells me?" I ask once we were on the road. I am starting to feel the effects of the rum. "Or we can pull over and have some really hot sex. I'm pretty felxible."

Sam laughs. "YN," He says. "I am super tempted but I won't. One, you're buzzed and I don't take advantage of buzzed beautiful women. Two, we need to get something you to soak up the alcohol. Finally three, I do think you should confront Dean about it when you're ready and right now, honey, you are not ready."

Sam goes through a drives thru and orders me a giant hamburger and fries. Once I'm done eating it and chugged the water he got, I start to feel better and less buzzed. "Thanks for coming with me," I rest my hand on Sams leg. He takes my hand and holds it there.

"Me too," He says kissing my hand and letting it go.

When we get back to the bunker, Dean has the impala parked up front. He's putting a few bags into the trunk. Dean must have found a case or someone called him about something. This will be perfect time to just stay behind and think.

"Hey, I was wondering where you went," Dean says as Sam gets out of the car.

"Yeah, I insisted on going with YN," Sam says pulling out the three bags. "Good thing too, She decided she just wanted to down two mini bottles of rum."

"Just because?" Dean asks.

"Just because," Sam says. I sigh knowing that Sam has my back.

Sam passes Dean who grabs his arm. "Is that pie?" He points to the bag and looks at me.

"Yep," I make my way and take the bag. "But it looks like you're headed out somewhere so you'll have to wait until you're back to have some fun with it."

Dean rolls his eyes and follows both Sam and I inside. "About that," Dean keeps following the pie. "Jody called and said she thinks that she has a vamp problem and wants some back up."

I nod. "Well in that case, "I hand him the pie. "Share with Jody and the girls. I will be staying back to relax."

Dean closes the gap between the two of us and pulls my face towards his. His lips were soft gentle. "Don't get to freaky while I'm gone," and he walks out the bunker.

Sam is looking at me. "It looks like he's trying." Sam sounds sad but he walks up to you and set the bags on the library table. He runs his hands on the table probably thinking of the night before. "But the look you give says you don't want to."

I shake my head. "I don't know, Sammy," my voice is quiet. "We shared something last night that I never felt with him." I look down and lick my lips thinking back to that spark that I felt with Sam and how safe I felt with him. Dean may make me orgasm two times but, I never felt that spark with him.

"Help me pack a bag," Sam says taking my hand and pulling me to his room. I am extremely confused why he wants me to help him pack a bag but, the moment we get to the doorway of his room, he spins around and pulls me into a soft kiss. Now, I understand. I smile against his lips and then pull away. "I wanted my lips to be the last thing you feel."

The boys left shortly after that.

I spend the next week reading and studying some of ancient books in the bunker. Something that Sam and I had in common. Something Dean and I didn't. When I'm not reading I am baking. I bake a few pies, breads, and muffins. When I'm not baking I am shopping at the local farmers market. Something that Dean would be confused at because I love fast food as well.

When I'm not doing any of those things, I am laying down in my bed either watching a pointless show on Netflix or staring at the ceiling. Thinking of ways to confront Dean about that ginger chick. But nothing good comes from it. Everything I think about leads to an argument or me leaving. But I can't do that to Sam. Not since I'm falling in love with him.

By the end of the week, while I am soaking in an herb bath to relax my muscles, I get a text from Sam. I dry my hands and pick up my phone that is laying on the ground.

Sam: Hey, some good news and bad news. What do you want first?

YN: Bad news.

Sam: We won't be home for at least another week or two. That nest was part of two other nests. One nest is in Michigan and the other is in Illinois. Shouldn't take too long. How are you holding up?

YN: I'm doing well. Just soaking in a nice warm bath.

Sam: If my brother weren't next to me I would ask for a picture.

YN: Oh stop it! I miss you. These books are boring without you here.

Sam: I miss you too, YN. I should probably go, Dean just gave me a side glance. I don't need him getting upset. Especially during a hunt.

YN: If he asks, Tell him I baked some goodies to donate to the nursing home here in town.

Sam: On it.

I set my phone back down on the ground. That wasn't the first time Sam texted during that week. Sam always made sure to check in once a day where as Dean, he barely did so when he tried to sext the other night, I couldn't do it. Nothing he did or said or sent turned me on. But this simple exchange with Sam makes me long for him even more. I can already feel his hands on my skin, trailing it inch by in. It's in this moment that I realize that I am done with Dean Winchester.

Over the next few weeks. I do the same things. I read, I bake to donate to shelters or nursery homes, and go shopping at the farmers market. I text the boys every now and then. They call if they have something they need looked up and they can't do it.

By the end of the third week that they are gone, I start to feel sick. Massive headaches, body aches, extreme tiredness, and then not to mention I'm always hungry. Every morning feels like I've been hit by bus. I even sleep most of the days and snack on crackers and ginger ale. The night that the boys are supposed to return, I text them saying I wasn't feeling well and that they were more than welcome to eating the baked goods I made.

The morning after the boys get back, I wake feeling one hundred perfect. Finally, I think to myself, I beat whatever virus wanted to kill me. I get up and dressed for the day. I am starving as I make my way to the kitchen. I see both boys are awake. Dean is at the stove making eggs and bacon. The smell hits me like a bag of bricks. I feel my stomach turn and in the next minute I am rushing to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth.

"YN," I hear Sam call after me.

I ignore him as I slide into the bathroom on my knees and let whatever wants to come up, out. And it doesn't stop. I am fully aware of Sam coming in and pulling back my hair and just being there. By the time I'm finish, Sam hands me a towel. I lean back and bury my face into the towel.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks rubbing my back. The action feel super nice and I try and focus on that.

"I think so," I mumble into the towel.

I never puke unless I've over done with alcohol. Which I didn't. I am a super light drinker most of the time and these last few weeks I rarely drank. I think long and hard when it hits me. My stomach turns again and I drop the towel and am back to hacking up stomach acid. Sam is back to holding back my hair until I'm done.

"I'm going to shower," I rest a hand on Sams knee when the realization becomes stronger as to why I'm hacking my guys out.

"Okay," Sam rubs my back again. "I'll head out to the store to get you something to help settle your stomach." Sam gets up and walks out the door, closing the door behind him.

I get up as fast as my stomach will let me and turn the shower on. I open the bottom of the sink and dig through my stash of tampons for the hidden tests. I learned with sleeping with Dean that he's really good at convincing me not to use a condom or the pull out method. And me being stupid, never bought birth control either. So far, I never needed a test until now. I rip open the one test I do find and sit back on the toilet.  When I'm done, I cap the test and set it on the counter and get into the shower. I need to have proof that I actually showered.

The water feels amazing on my skin and my stomach starts to feel better. I focus on other things than the test I took but I can't. I quickly wash my body and brush my teeth before getting out. I dry off and get dressed. I close my eyes and say a little prayer. Whatever the results are, I will figure it all out.

PREGNANT

The words stare right up at me and I feel a little dizzy. "Okay," I whisper. "It's okay. You know who the father is. You know everything will be alright." There's a knock at the door. You stash the test back into my pants pocket and open the door. It's Dean, he's got a worried look on his face.

"Sam said you were hacking your guts away in here before leaving to get stuff for you," he says. I can detect a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah," I slip on out of the bathroom. "Can we talk before he gets back?" I ask.

Dean and I walk to the library. The test is poking my side and thigh as I walk. We sit at the table I can see that Dean was aware of what I was planning on saying. He was smart like that.

"I cheated on you," He blurts out before I can get a word out. "The night that we got back and found out that the blade the shifter used on you was poisoned and Cas had a hard time healing her, I thought I was going to loose you. So I went to the bar and got drunk and next thing I knew I was walking up next to some ginger. I did it again a few times. Then Cas saw signs of you improving and I felt really guilty. I told Sam and he begged me to tell you but all I wanted to do was forget."

I sat back and with nothing to say. I had this whole thing planned out. Pregnant or not. Dean continues, "I feel you start to pull away after you woke up and I guess you found out. Then that day you went out with Sam to get beer and stuff, I was jealous and started to have some doubt. I started to hope that maybe going hunting with just Sam would fix that and we would be close again but then I saw you guys kiss. That's when I knew I lost you. I'm an Asshole for what I did"

I look down at the table. There is guilt rising up to the surface. I knew in the back of mind I needed to leave the boys. Leave and never return. But about about the baby? I shake my head and pull out the test and sit it in the table. Dean sees it and before he could talk I speak.

"No, you're not the father," I pick up the test and just stare at the big bold words that tell me that I'm going to be sober for nine freaking months.

"When?" Dean doesn't sound upset. Sad but not upset.

"The night that we got back from the burger place. Sam told me about the ginger." I look up at Dean who's nodding. "Then Sam and I had sex." Literally steamy hot shower sex.

"Okay," Dean gets up and storms out of the bunker, slamming the door behind him making me flinch.

The hormones start to make themselves known. The tears start to form in the corner or my eyes. I'm not sad for what happened. I still don't regret that night with Sam. I wipe a few away and notice Sam standing at the bottom of the stairs. He sets the bag in his hand on the table and before he could get to me, I slide the test over to him. He sees it and picks it up.

"Are you sure?" He asks. I hear worry in his voice but I see a glint of happiness his eyes. I nod and wipe a few more tears aside. Why couldn't they stop? Sam walks up to me and pulls me from the chair. He brushes a hair back behind my ears and cups my cheek. "We got this," he says, "Everything will be just fine."

Sam presses his lips to mine. I smile against his lips and knew that he speaks the truth.

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Two

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Word Count: 2577

Primo Beta: @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic and beta’ing by: @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary: A flashback and some case drama to iron out. There’s breakfast and a confession.

Warnings: Unconsciousness, a gun, man-handling, unresolved emotions

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

               “Nope.” She shook her head, hair mussed against the sheets as he leered over at her.

               “We need to leave. Move your ass.” Dean swatted the mattress, shaking her from her perch of stubbornness. 

                 She kicked away playfully, whining as she twisted to burrow into the pillows. He pounced before she was even situated, hands like magnets to her waist, pinching just so until she was shrieking. Bent in half in his arms, he had her pinned in place, her t-shirt bunched up with her belly spilling over the band of her simple gray sweats. He wasn’t sure when she’d stolen them, but they were unquestionably hers now; they looked too good on her to ever take them back.

               Before he realized it, he was giggling right along with her, out of breath and tangled together on the bed once more. She threw her thigh over his chest, straddling him and claiming temporary victory.

               “Two-point reversal,” she huffed, locking his wrists above his head.

               “You play dirty, anyone ever tell you that?” Dean teased, half-heartedly struggling against her weight.

               She made a thoughtful face. “Uh, only crybabies, why?”

               Dean slipped his right arm out under her calf and flipped her onto her side. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?”

               “We have until ten for check out?” She panted, smile dazzling as she feigned innocence.

               “Nice try.” Dean smacked her ass and held on. “Ten minutes and I’m leaving you here. Move it.”

               “You wouldn’t dare,” she mocked, pushing her thigh between his legs and grinding into him.

               “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. I mean it. I’ve got a case,” Dean warned down his nose, dimples of discontent in full effect. 

               She took full advantage, landing a sloppy kiss to his pursed lips before rolling off the bed and leaving him in the scratchy sheets alone.

^*^*^

               Dean fell asleep remembering the woman he used to know, the one who he had had to let go. A smile on his lips as he tried not to think about the reserved and shell shocked face she now wore. The one that looked at him like it was the first time. The one person he wanted back more than he’d ever admit.

^*^*^

               It was Saturday morning and after everything that happened during the week, you had allowed yourself to stay up way too late the night before. 

               Unfortunately, your internal clock decided you should still wake up at seven with little hope of returning to sleep. Begrudgingly you got dressed in warm comfort, just put together enough to not draw attention at your favorite café. 

              Outside your building a black muscle car was parked on the curb, the model name on the tip of your tongue when you spotted the guy asleep in the front seat. Embarrassed for him, you turned away only to realize who it was. Agent Berkman was camped outside in plain clothes, the implications that you were under surveillance made you start to panic. Terrified, you turned back around, scared that whoever, whatever, you saw murder your coworker was coming after you.

               Silently, you vowed to stop watching procedural cop shows.

               With only one goal on your mind, you whipped your door open and scrambled for Agent Colfax’s card on your kitchen counter. He answered on the second ring, but before you could get out why you had called everything went black; a heavy slam to your temple sending you to the abyss.

^*^*^

                “What?” Dean answered Sam’s call.

               “Dude, where are you?! She just called me freaking out and then the line went dead,” Sam snapped.

               “Sonovabitch! Fuckin’ fell asleep. I’m goin’ in. Get here when you can.” 

                 Dean didn’t wait for his brother to reply. He snatched his machete from the floor of the backseat and tucked it haphazardly in his jacket, hoping his layers would protect him from the freshly sharpened blade. 

                 Getting someone to buzz him into the building took an eternity. The little control he had left disappeared as he found her door swinging loosely from the landing. Every part of him thundered with alarm; everything he had given up to keep her safe meant nothing if something happened to her now. He pushed the guilt down and scanned the living room that ran into the kitchen.

               Her phone was on the floor beneath the island, but nothing else seemed out of place. Dean pocketed it and continued down the hall. Bathroom was empty, but as he toed the bedroom door open, he spotted her prone on the bed. Before Dean could make it the rest of the way to check her pulse, he heard a gun’s safety unhitch at his temple.

               “Where did you come from?” a condescending female voice asked.

               Dean huffed in exasperation, ducking his head before he snatched the handgun out of the woman’s hand. It wasn’t even loaded. Confused and unamused, Dean grabbed her wrist and bent it behind her back.

               “Lady, if you point a gun at me, you better know how to use it,” Dean growled. “Now what do you want with her?!”

               This woman was no vamp. Her high-end yoga pants and running top were her pathetic attempt at ninja black. She struggled against him futilely.

               Frustrated, Dean pushed her against the closet doors.

               “Why are you here, huh?” Dean’s voice dripped malice.

               “To finish the job! Little Miss Snitch over there was supposed to go down with Chase. Instead she caused a panic and the whole place was crawling with cops,” Katelyn snarled.

               “So what? The vamps were there on your dime?” Dean demanded.

               “Not exactly. Why? What’s it to you?”

               “I’m just a naturally curious guy,” Dean taunted. “Poor girl watches her coworker become someone’s lunch and suddenly her--- what? Boss? Supervisor? What are you to her, hmmm? Holds her hostage. Waiting for somebody else to do the dirty work?”

               “Well, I wasn’t gonna move her, hard enough getting her ass in here,” Katelyn spat. 

                Dean twisted her arm higher, causing her to squeal in pain.

               “Might wanna watch how you talk about her in my presence, Sweetheart.” Dean hummed in satisfaction.

               “Dean!” Sam’s voice broke through their grunting match.

               In less than twenty minutes, the local cops were walking Katelyn out of the building in cuffs. Sam, as Agent Colfax, was giving a statement to the lead detective, leaning in on their lack of professionalism with the initial investigation. Dean sat by while the paramedics looked the victim over.

           ��   “I hate to be that guy, but do you think you could just use the salts, we’re kind of on a timeline and she hates hospitals,” he murmured.

               “And your relationship to the patient--- Agent?”

               “Well, um, you see,” Dean fumbled.

               “Old friends,” Sam broke in, pulling out his phone. 

                Dean had no idea where Sam had pulled the picture from, but it softened the look on the first responder’s face. Luckily, she seemed to be coming to all on her own.

*^*^*^

                Waking to Agent Berkman’s blurry smile seemed more a memory than a dream until you realized it was reality. 

                The paramedic descended on you briefly until the detectives stepped in for follow up questions. Through it all you felt the FBI agent watching you, hovering unlike anyone else in the room. You were grateful to be saved from an ambulance ride, not wanting to add a traumatic hospital stay to an already horrid week.

               “You should have a follow up appointment with your primary care physician. Head injuries can be serious,” the paramedic warned, the first of the swarms of people to vacate your home.

               “The crime scene people are going to be awhile, breakfast?” Agent Colfax whispered to Agent Berkman, nodding in your direction.

               The scruffy man squatted down to look you in the eyes, your attention had returned to the patch of the floor where Katelyn’s gun sat.

                “Y/N? Honey, why don’t you let us take you out for some pancakes, hmmm?”

               It was such a casual intimacy that you almost didn’t register it. Looking from him to the other agent made you pause, a growing hunch of a secret lying between them and yourself. A hidden path that you instinctively needed to see through. It made you bolder than you had felt in days. 

              With a quick glance at all the other strangers in your apartment, you whispered conspiratorially, “what’s your name?”

               “Dean.” He gave you a sad smile. “And that’s my brother, Sam.”

               You nodded, unsurprised and relieved with his honesty. You gave Sam a simple wave, earning you a sly dimple as you stood up. 

              “Okay, but when we get there--- I have some questions.”

               Dean sent Sam a look, but he only shrugged in response. You giggled at his dismay and carefully stepped around the evidence collectors in your way.

               Without batting an eye you slipped into the backseat of the massive black Chevy as the men had yet another silent conversation over the hood of the car while you settled into the dead center of the bench seat. 

               Your greasy spoon of choice was only a few blocks down and was considerably less congested than the foodie brunch place across the street. Once breakfast was served, with only the unexplained trust and slight annoyance you had found in the scruffy agent you knew now as Dean, you broached the subject of that little slip up he made back in your apartment.

              “So--- why’d you call me ‘honey’, Dean?” You watched him gape as you carefully chewed a fluffy buttery mouthful. 

               Sam chuckled over his coffee.

               “I--- didn’t mean to?” Dean tried to play it smooth.

               “And you’re not FBI,” you weren’t asking. “So, considering you saved my life, but only because you were practically stalking me...” You smirked at Sam as Dean tried to cut you off. “I need to know what’s going on. Because I don’t know you. Either of you. But, somehow, I trust you. So, don’t lie. Not anymore. Not to me.”

               Dean’s head fell back, and he muttered to the ceiling, “Cas, I swear to god...”

               Sam cleared his throat. “Those were vampires your boss hired. That’s what brought us to town. We hunt monsters.”

               “But?” you pushed.

               “But,” Dean pinched his brow. “When we realized you were the witness---.”

               Dean looked at you like he had kicked your proverbial puppy, apologetic eyes sparkling in the slanted light. For some reason you felt the shift, he was a breath away from crumbling. 

               You reached across the table and took his hand in both of yours, brushing the cheap vase and assortment of sugars with your elbow.

               “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna freak out. Well, I might, but I’ll try to reign it in,” you tried to encourage him.

               Dean’s smile was more of a grimace, and Sam spoke up, “We used to be your friends. A long time ago and the reason you don’t remember us---”

               “Is because I had an angel take your memories. Of me. Of us. To protect you from this life,” Dean rushed. “I am so sorry that you got dragged back in. If I’d known---”

               You pulled back, a single hand tented on the tabletop as you processed what they were telling you. You watched Sam adjust, avoiding eye contact with Dean who had practically jumped back from the edge now that you were no longer touching him. 

              “We weren’t friends, were we?”

               You stared at Dean, waiting for him to lie. There was no life in his gaze, but his jaw was tight. 

“No.”

               You exhaled, wiping away a tear you hadn’t meant to shed. “How long---uh, how long were we together?”

               Sam made an excuse to use the bathroom or pay the bill or invade Mars, leaving you alone with Dean and your barely touched meals.

               Internally, you dove into the past to find the holes, knowing there were gaps in your memory that you attributed to stress or depression. Dean sat up, straightened his jacket and leaned against his forearms on the edge of the table.

               “A year and some change, we lived in that shitty upper with all the plants,” Dean conceded. “Look, there were demons who would’ve done anything to get to me and the easiest way for them to do that was with you.”

               “I’m sorry, what?!” you balked. “You decided that leaving me behind, without my memories, would be the best way to save your own ass?!”

               “It wasn’t like that. They could’ve had me. They just wanted to hurt me deeper than any knife could reach. And that’s you, it’s always been you. Seeing them use you----” 

Dean ground his teeth. “You were possessed. You told me I was a terrible lay with daddy issues. You nearly gutted Sam.”

               “I? Me? As in?” You sputtered, making the Psycho knife gesture. 

Dean laughed out loud at your disbelief or the action, probably both. It was a nice sound, but that didn’t stop the tears, from either of you.

               “I did it to protect you. And I’d do it again,” Dean sighed.

               “But you’re not going to. Right? This isn’t some ruse to lure me in and fuck with my mind again?” You challenged, sitting up straighter to clock both Sam and the exit.

               “No. Even if Cas were here, I won’t do that to you now. You need to be able to protect yourself, not that there should be any more vampire hitmen in your future, but just in case,” Dean’s eyes pleaded with you. 

                You wanted to believe him, you also never felt more helpless in your entire life. You had a past you didn’t remember, monsters really do exist, and two random guys can pose as FBI agents to get whatever information or infiltration they’d like. What could you even do with all that?

               “What am I supposed to say here? Are you looking for a thank you? Or some twisted sort of forgiveness because I can’t give you that. Not when I don’t know what I lost. It wouldn’t be real.” You dropped your head into your hands which were propped on the table. “I don’t even know what real means anymore.”

               It felt like the silence would never break when Dean’s low voice cut through your paralyzing anxiety. “Look… is there somewhere you can stay tonight? Someone you trust?”

              Dean beckoned Sam back to the table, trying to come up with some sort of plan. No one wanted to send you back to the apartment where you were attacked.

              You listened to them talk about you like you weren’t there, dull-eyed and growing increasingly numb. Because partially, it was easier than continuing to argue and unearth more emotions that you couldn’t handle. But also because you felt like your choices had never amounted to anything anyway; might as well let someone else call the shots. Nothing made sense, but the probability that it would change again at any moment only added to your shaken nerves.

            Everything around you felt like it was made of sand. Dumbfounded, you waited for the next stiff breeze. 

            You didn’t speak up to ask to go home and pack a bag while you watched them clear out their motel room with practiced speed.

            The backseat of their car rocked with the calloused roads that led to your cousin’s house the next county over. You arrived at the old farmhouse just after sundown, letting Sam do all the talking before you excused yourself to the guest room for the night.

^*^*^

Series Tags: @tiggytaylor  @vicmc624 

General SPN Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs  @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988@mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja​

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Read On: Chapter Three

[tvdversefanfiction]

Origins of Magic

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television series “The Originals”, “Vampire Diaries”, or “Legacies” and do not own any of the characters within the TVD universe, I am making no profit from this and have no intention for this fanfiction series except for readers to enjoy. 15+ Mild to Strong Violence, Strong Language, Witchcraft, sexual scenes, and sexual references. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN HERE

Chapter 15 - Black Christmas

The Day Before Christmas

Kayne Black and his older brother Magnus had spent a long time travelling the world together in the hopes of finding a lead of where Magnus’ missing part was as Kayne hoped to restore his brother to his former glory, despite Magnus’ distrust of his younger brother. Both brothers grew more and more frustrated with the lack of results which continued to strain their already fragile relationship leading to many fallouts between them as they continued their search. “So, in other words you are of no use to me!” Kayne complained as he lifted his right hand and magically snapped the neck of a male witch, the witch falling to the dirt within the woods completely lifeless, as Magnus stood behind his brother, far from amused by his antics. “Did you really have to kill him?” Magnus asked his younger brother. “Look at you, building up a conscious, tell me brother where was these morals when you burned me alive?” Kayne asked rhetorically, before going on to say. “He knew nothing which meant he was completely useless to me and if he lived, he’d let word slip about our family’s plan to restore ourselves at the top of the food chain…I mean it is bad enough the originals know our secrets let alone the witches we created.” “I just think if we ever want to be considered royalty among the witches again then we probably should not go around killing them all.” Magnus argued. “It also does not help you’ve spent centuries massacring them to prolong your life all these years.” “Oh Magnus, I am fond of the witches and their creations but do not get me wrong for one moment I’d rather die than play kings and queens with you and our sisters again…yes I want you all restored like me, but I’m done playing witch games.” Kayne explained to his older brother. “Once we are all restored, we can finally be us…that is the only gift we need, not illusions of some kingdom.” “So, your big master plan is to give the four most power hungry beings in the world even more power and then expect none of us all to do something with this power?” Magnus asked him, unable to find any logic in his brother’s plans. “I honestly never thought about it like that…” Kayne admitted, beginning to rethink his plans for a moment. “No, once all your memories are returned you will see the truth.” “Maybe but tell me how much the truth has changed who you are?” Magnus questioned his brother, believing his brother was no different than before having his full memories restored.

Annabella Black had once again found herself alone, having been months since she had seen her siblings or anyone else, she knew, as she had now found herself spending all her time desperately searching for a lead towards finding a key to restoring herself despite constant dead ends and little to nothing to go on and she was beginning to think it was time to quit her search like her younger sister Primrose had done already. “You’re spending Christmas with Kol and his human family?” Bella said in shock, while sitting on a bench within a busy street in the French Quarter of New Orleans and on the phone to her sister Rose. “Wait…their leaving you alone with children…if you need me to cast a spell, I could be there…you sure you have it…yeah okay…” Before Bella could begin to utter any more words on the phone call, her sister had hung up, making it clear to Bella that she was far from forgiven for all her manipulations and lies over the centuries, to which she could not blame her sister for but still it sucked not being needed by her and since Kayne was currently more powerful than them all it is not like he needed her. Which is why Bella found herself back in New Orleans hoping to get a glance of Rebekah, the only person outside of her siblings that meant anything to her, hoping to see her or even to share a conversation with the original female vampire, anything to make her feel any less alone during Christmas time but sadly alone is what she would be, having not known no Mikaelson was currently in the city, as all were attending Hope’s wedding in Mystic Falls. “So, I’ve been trying to work out who you were since you first came to my city a few days ago and then the rumour mill quickly got spilling the secrets of your rather complicated family tree.” Marcel stated after speeding his way to now stand in front of the powerful witch. “Are you the one whose as crazy as Kol or the one who had something with Rebekah? I know you’re not the one who had something going on with Klaus…” “I’m Annabella Black and judging by the amount of power I can feel coming from you and how it is somehow stronger than that of an original tells me you are Marcel Gerard.” Bella replied as she stood up to face the upgraded original. “I was believed to think you had abandoned New Orleans after your brief marriage to Rebekah Mikaelson.” “I took a break from the family yeah, but I never took a break from this city.” Marcel admitted to her. “Although even I know there’s no Mikaelsons in town as my sort of sister Hope is getting married right about now.” “I got that message, a little late but still the message has been received.” Bella told him, trying to hide her sadness over missing Rebekah. “This is going to sound out of the blue but…how would you like to spend Christmas with me?” Marcel asked the bewitching beauty, shocking her by the invitation. “I can tell a lonely face and it just so happens I am also lonely this Christmas…nothing sinister I promise, just consider it a thank you from me for bringing black Klaus heck I’m even a little grateful you brought back Elijah.” “Connections with the Mikaelsons are never straight forward.” Bella laughed, before going on to say with great sarcasm. “Two exes of the same woman spending Christmas together…what could possibly go wrong?”

The Night Before Christmas

Kayne walked into the twin hotel room of which he was sharing with his brother Magnus in Jefferson City, shocked to see no sign of Magnus whatsoever, catching on quickly as he noticed a note left on one of the beds, as he walked over picked it up and began reading what his older brother had to say to himself, which simply read one word, that word saying bye, much to Kayne’s dismay and frustration. “Sometimes when someone burns you alive you should just call it quits trying to make that family bond work.” Klaus announced after vamp speeding into the room. “I am truly sorry you have a brother foolish enough to ever want to leave your side.” “It’s what people do…centuries go by, sights change, empires change, people change, but one thing that never changes is they always leave.” Kayne admitted, as he threw the note back on to the bed. “Is your daughter not getting married today? For some mad reason Rose is on babysitting duties…I know this because the crazy bitch tried to get me to help her like I would be any better with children.” “The wedding has come and gone, and I should be in Mystic Falls still but after the reception I decided to get my eldest sister Freya to do a location spell on you, I’ve tried for her to find you a million times but only now it seemed to work.” Klaus revealed to him. “And with you being so close to Mystic Falls I could not help but pay you a visit.” “Well as out of the blue this is, my family is no longer paired with yours since I took down the supreme bitch, so, I am just going to and if I were you, I would not try stopping me.” Kayne warned him as he began to walk past him only for Klaus to grab him by the arm. “After everything we have been through you did not care to tell me goodbye when you left New Orleans and still you cannot say goodbye to me now.” Klaus said, as he pulled Kayne’s body closer into his. “All I came here for was a simple…goodbye.” “Goodbye.” Kayne breathed, as he struggled to restrain himself from kissing Klaus then and there, as the feeling of the original hybrid’s body pressed up against his felt as good as it did centuries ago, struggling to contain his longing for him as Klaus began looking deep into his eyes, realizing Klaus wanted the same as his. “I have changed my mind,” Klaus replied with a sly smirk before gently kissing Kayne on the lips. “I do not want to ever say goodbye to you again!” Suddenly the power witch and the original hybrid’s bodies began crashing against each other’s, the two kissing passionately while tearing at each other’s clothes, and beginning to make their way over to the nearest twin bed, longing to make love to each other, longing to rekindle a love they had started many, many, years ago.

Christmas Day

Bella never knew exactly why she accept Marcel’s invite to join him for Christmas, maybe the idea of being a lone for yet another year was too much for her to take, maybe she wanted Rebekah to learn she was spending Christmas with her ex-husband or maybe she was simply happy to put a face to the name of the self-made upgraded original vampire whose charm was only matched by his deadliness. “If you have brought me here to try and take me out than you’re a very brave but very stupid man!” Bella warned Marcel as she walked into the living room of her New Orleans apartment wearing a tight fitted black dress, only to find Marcel stood there holding two glasses of champagne. “I meant what I said when I invited you here…there is no need for us to both be lonely.” Marcel replied as he handed one of the glasses of champagne to Bella. “Yes, I heard that line just yesterday but considering your ties are still pretty tight with the Mikaelsons I fail to see why you did not go to Mystic Falls with the rest of them.” Bella questioned him as she took a drink from her glass. “No poisons other than alcohol…I am surprised.” “I’m not in Mystic Falls for the very same reason that you are in New Orleans Annabella Black.” Marcel admitted to her. “When you love a woman like Rebekah Mikaelson you cannot stop…even when you realize you can never be with her…I choose to handle that knowledge by avoiding her, you did too for a long time, but I guess curiosity brought you back once again, to which I too have found myself falling to.” “The girl whose heart always gets broken does not realize how many hearts of her own she has broken.” Bella responded with a sly smirk as she finished her glass. “I did not agree to this invitation to speak of Rebekah or even to celebrate Christmas…” “Then why did you come here? As if we both do not already know.” Marcel questioned her, while knowing damn fine what the witch was doing in his apartment. Bella Black was done feeling lonely at the loneliest time of the year and Marcel looked like a real hunk of the man, she could see what Rebekah had seen in this fine specimen and in that moment, she decided to explore more of him but before she could make the first move, Marcel had stolen a kiss from her lips. The two shared a knowing smile before continuing to kiss each other passionately, crashing their way to the couch before Bella threw him down on it and climbed onto the upgraded original, ready to unwrap her unexpected Christmas gift.

Rose Black was known for many things, none of them particularly pleasant and instead of showing any signs of shame the witch was delighted and proud of the name she had made for herself and the fear she struck in others, a fear that she believed she had worked hard to earn. So, when her only friend in the entire world Kol Mikaelson requested her presence she was quick to accept, having given up on her plans for restoration, the woman was ready to do some wicked deeds with the original vampire but upon her arrival to San Francisco she quickly learned her duties were needed for babysitting. “I cannot thank you enough for keeping my three unruly girls alive during our little trip to Mystic Falls on Christmas Eve.” Kol thanked Rose as he walked into the kitchen of his and Davina’s San Francisco home, as Rose stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of rose wine. “To be honest I have never been more terrified in my life and I was literally just almost burned at the stake…but they were actually rather amusing minus the dreaded Disney reruns I actually found myself enjoying their company.” Rose reluctantly admitted before taking a drink from her glass. “I think I actually want to be a mother!” “Well, I will give you something Primrose,” Kol said, while in a state of shock by Rose’s revelation. “You never know what to expect from you.” “I just need to find a single human whose seed I can tolerate enough to impregnate me…problem is I’ve not liked a single human in centuries!” Rose said before downing her glass of wine. “I mean if you can parent a child, I am sure I will raise the perfect little psychopath that will make mama real proud.” Rose Black never expected to become a babysitter but then she did and after spending Christmas with Kol, Davina and their three children she found herself lifted by the spirit of Christmas, suddenly ready to begin a path towards motherhood.

As Klaus woke up from his slumber, naked but for a sheet, he was shocked to see no sign of Kayne but after a few moments he heard the shower running which prompted the original hybrid to stand up from the twin bed, wrapping the sheet around himself before walking into the hotel bathroom ready for another round with his long-lost lover, only to be left shocked to find no-one there much to his disappointment. Within mere moments Klaus heard the vibrating from his mobile phone ringing and vamp sped his way back into the hotel room, picking up the phone and instantly answering it. “I truly am sorry for leaving in such haste Niklaus, but you see I fell for you once before and I cannot make another mistake like that again.” Kayne said across the phone to a stunned and hurt Klaus. “I know your not the same man you were back then, but neither am I and I’m afraid sooner or later your going to realize the person I am to you now is not some lost love but a foe and when that day comes, when we are reunited remember the hurt you feel now, the hurt you made me once feel…then prepare for war!”

[roadtohadestown]

welcome to my hadestown vampire au *jazz hands*

i know we already have a vampire au somewhere in the fandom, bUT i wanted my own because it was literally the only thing i could think about for a week.

now let’s talk about it ٩( ᐛ )و

first thing’s first, let’s talk about persephone. persephone is a world-renowned vampire hunter.

in the past, she was happily in love with hades; however, in the middle of their engagement, she discovered that hades was a vampire

he was human when they met, but was turned just recently (it'd only been a couple weeks since it happened)

persephone—although angry he didn't tell her sooner—doesn't leave him. she agrees to stay with him and allows him to drink some of her blood.

ok, let’s establish some vampire things in this au before we continue.

when someone is turned into a vampire, at first everything is fine. but obviously you gotta feed soon. when drinking blood, newly-turned vampires often don’t drink too much considering how new they are to the whole vampire thing (they’re probably like. grossed out). if you take in too little blood / not a decent amount, you start to get these urges: you lose control of yourself and have a strong desire to feed. this strong desire can lead you to turn others into vampires (turning someone is caused by draining a human entirely of their blood). this CAN happen when you get one of these urges, but it might not. you just happen to take in more than you were before, and this could possibly result in entirely draining someone. the more you try to suppress your urge to feed, the worse it becomes.

(these urges are usually triggered by little blood intake, but can also just come in at random times in your life. they become a bit more frequent the older you become.)

persephone allows hades to drink from her but not a whole lot, and she trusts him enough not to turn her. (she loves him anyways, so she trusts him.)

however, what they didn’t know was about the urges. when hades was first turned, he didn’t know of any of this. and neither did persephone. since she’d only been letting him drink some of her blood, this little intake caused one of these urges to occur—

while drinking, hades felt himself lose control midway, almost draining persephone entirely. she started to grow weak. she desperately struggled to pull away and eventually did. hades apologized afterwards, saying he didn't know what got into him. even so, persephone felt herself trust him a little less since.

after that time, persephone’s looked more into vampires to try to help hades. learning that hades would have to drink more to control himself, persephone allowed him to drink more from her than he usually had. (she doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt and would rather he do it to her than another human being.)

however, as hades does this more, he realizes how weak it makes persephone and how much it hurts her. hades feels guilty about this and (without her knowledge) sneaks away to feed off of others than rely solely on persephone.

time passes. one day persephone reads something in the newspaper: a huge mass of people found dead and resurrected as vampires, all in such a short span of time. she later discovers that this had been done by hades, who seems to be struggling to control his urges more and more

the idea of more people turning into vampires fills persephone with grief; she can only imagine the amount of pain this must be causing people and their families. unable to cope with hades's doing, she leaves him and becomes a vampire hunter.

over time, she uses her knowledge from being with hades (and her studies) to set out and kill as many vampires as she could, soon givng her the title of world-renowned vampire hunter

although being a vampire hunter, persephone refuses to kill hades. she knows doing so would only keep the cycle going (if he stays alive he'll continue to turn more humans), but even so...she can't bear the idea of killing him. (she still loves him, doesn’t she ??) she just can’t.

after persephone left him, hades has only gotten worse. he's become angrier and distraught without persephone there to soothe him or be at his side to comfort him. it isn't before long that he feels he’s lost himself entirely.

note that no one really knows of persephone and hades relationship. no one really knew that they were in love; and considering hades is a vampire and seph a vampire hunter, no one even suspects it.

flash forward to present day. eurydice finds herself walking alone at night and is soon jumped by a vampire. she tries to defend herself with whatever martial arts moves she can manage, but to no avail; she is eventually pinned against the wall and struggles to break free from the vampire’s grasp.

suddenly, she’s saved by persephone, who kills him with a silver bullet to the head

eurydice recognizes persephone and thanks her. (she doesn't freak out like "oH My gOSH yOu'RE pERsEphONe" because she's not like. fangirl level. just a calm "oh hey, you're that famous vampire hunter...persephone, right? thanks for saving me.")

they chat a little, then part ways. but before eurydice leaves, persephone gives her a silver bullet as a gift.

eurydice keeps this and makes it into a necklace that she always wears around her neck. (i just thought it’d be cool to have her wear a bullet necklace ok shhhh)

since then, eurydice's dabbled in the art of vampire killing. she hasn't actually tried out the activity herself, but has studied quite a bit on vampires and how to kill them.

one day, she walks around at night in the city, but this time, she's armed with a stake just in case she gets jumped again.

while walking, she hears a soft singing. a beautiful voice resounds its way through the alleyways. curious of the source, she follows the voice until she comes across a boy on the roof of a building, legs dangling over the edge and playing his guitar as he sings.

"hey!" eurydice calls from below. she startles the boy, who literally fumbles around for five seconds and nearly drops his guitar in the process. "s-sorry!! i didn't mean to startle you."

"no, no, it's fine!" he awkwardly laughs, putting down his guitar.

"you have a beautiful voice, by the way."

"thanks."

"sorry, i know i interrupted you just to tell you something small, but—“

"no really, don't worry about it! i appreciate it." he thinks for a second before eurydice can walk away. "uhh, do you wanna...come up here and chat for a bit?"

"um...sure why not?" eurydice had blurted this out without much thought; in the moment, the idea of whether or not this guy might be a vampire doesn't strike her. but now that it does, she quickly prepares herself. she'd been invited into his potential trap, and she just agreed to step right in. why did i say yes? if he's a vampire, this is a fucking suicide mission. stupid eurydice, fuck—

the ladder leading to the roof is at the side of the building, so she goes up.

eurydice reluctantly sits down beside him.

"hey," he greets her with a smile, "i'm orpheus."

"eurydice," she says firmly. her eyes flit around to examine him from head to toe. he doesn't seem suspicious…and he doesn’t really give me vampire vibes…

orpheus slowly nods, waiting for her to say something else to drag the conversation along, but she doesn't. however, he does notice her eyeing him suspiciously. maybe i shouldn't have invited her…??

but what orpheus can admit is that—wow she looks so pretty, especially under the moonlight oh my gosh she’s gorgeous.

eurydice eventually stops examining him because she sees him noticing.

“so...you play the guitar. can you play a song for me?”

he agrees and starts singing a song he’s been working on. eurydice gets too caught up in his singing that she totally forgets about the oh-shit-he-might-be-a-vampire thing.

while listening to him, she realizes she might have a teeeeeny bit of a crush on this guy. he’s very cute. and has a very nice voice. also plays the guitar really well. wow i think i might be in love—

when he finishes, eurydice compliments him once more and thanks him. realizing it’s getting a bit late, she says she’s gotta go.

“do you wanna meet again tomorrow afternoon?”

orpheus frowns. “i don’t know if i can do the afternoon...”

“how about tomorrow night? same time as now? oh wait, are you usually up this la—”

“i’ll be there.”

she nods, and smiles. “see you tomorrow, orpheus.”

(eurydice’s still enamored by orpheus that she doesn’t realize him being able to meet her at night than the afternoon is a little...suspicious 👀👀)

so about orpheus: orpheus is actually a vampire.

but he doesn’t like it.

orpheus was born a vampire when his parents were very late in life (they’ve been around for a long time, but didn’t decide until hundreds of years later to have a baby ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). after his parents died when he was very, very young (vampire hunters djskskndm), orpheus was abandoned; but soon found by hermes, who took him in.

immediately upon finding orpheus, hermes knew he as a vampire. but even so, considering he was left alone, and was too little to fend for himself, he took him in.

being a human, hermes was unable to teach orpheus how to,, y’know,, properly be a vampire. but here’s the thing: hermes has Connections. he actually knows some fellow vamps—these being clotho, lachesis, and atropos (aka, your lovely fates). every now and then they visit hermes and orpheus and teach orpheus all the vampire shtuff he needs to know.

since orpheus has basically grown up with them in his life, the fates have kinda just,, become his aunts tbh hjshsjdh

before the fates came along, orpheus had already grown to hate his vampiric side. so once they came into the picture, he’d do whatever he had to when they taught him, but he never really agreed to the concept of it. (he has to learn these things for his survival, but gosh, he really wishes he didn’t have to go through all this.) he just really doesn’t like being a vampire okie—

for one, he hates drinking blood. obviously he’s just gotta deal with it, but if there was any way he could not do that, he would. secondly, he hates not being able to bask in the sun. (as vampires get older, their resistance to the sun becomes much worse. so when they’re younger, they could stay in the sun for hours and hours before it becomes detrimental to them.) before the fates, orpheus would always sit around outside and stare at the sky, be it night or day. his favorites were whenever he’d watch the sunrise, which he always considered the most magical time of day. as he grew older, this routine obviously had to stop. but still—he misses sunrises.

the guitar orpheus has was given to him by hermes. (it was hermes’s old guitar.) hermes is the one who taught orpheus how to play.

on the topic of urges, orpheus……...is a weird one. he hasn’t actually experienced one yet, despite that he’s been around for quite a while. the fates find this pretty odd. hm.

upon meeting eurydice, orpheus doesn’t really wanna tell her who he really is right then and there. as aforementioned, he doesn’t really like being a vampire, so why tell her, y’know ??

he hopes he can keep this a secret from her for as long as he can, but obviously that doesn’t last...

this is the first time i’ve actually fleshed out an au, and planning all this only gave me 2015 writing nostalgia (back when i was a daily fanfic writer ahsjhsbd)

ANYWAYS. this was fun. i’ll draw more soon 😘