#that man showed up on screen and i've wanted nothing more than to cave his skull in every since

[thereisabearonmyceiling]

diversity win: the two most annoying people you know are fighting!

[hollybell51]

I promise

Masterpost

Corinthian x gn!Reader

The Sandman (2022 Netflix series)

Word count: 4814

Summary: having been alone in the Waking World since your departure from the Dreaming, you’re glad to see a familiar and sorely missed face. So is the Corinthian. 

Content: no use of (Y/N), use of pet names (“sweetheart”), canon-typical horror elements and referenced violence, referenced murder/gore/violence (it’s the Corinthian guys), drinking (as in drinking a grand total of two alcoholic drinks each), reader is a nightmare, weirdly deep ruminations on the nature of love, pseudo-love confessions (you’ll see). Smut (because I feel like this needs its own category of tags): smut with feelings, oral sex, making out, hickeys, slight possessiveness, slightly pervy Corinthian I guess (???), slightly dom-y reader, slightly dom-y Corinthian, they kinda swap around, maybe I should have just said “switch”, but I mean slightly when I say slightly so I don’t really even think it’s worth labelling, penetrative sex

Notes: I am so attracted to this man it’s actually kind of depressing. Thank you Neil Gaiman and Boyd Holbrook. Also I was quite torn writing this because obviously he's a gay man in the comics which is a huge part of him and very deliberate decision (I really recommend checking out this post) but also the pansexual element of the show, so I've done this as a gender neutral reader so I guess you can take it where you want... anyways, enjoy!

Also I literally could not decide which of the many gorgeous GIFs of this man to put because holy shit he is just so hot in literally everything he does but I like his little "hmf" kinda smile near the end in this one so it's what you get <3

Your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a notification from the news network. 

“Anything good?” the bartender queried as you idly opened it, skimming the headline. You smiled. The Corinthian strikes again, police warn local citizens to exercise caution. 

“Must be something,” he continued, seeing your smile. 

“No,” you replied. 

“So what’s got you smiling?” 

“Nothing, really.”

The bartender shrugged, deftly wiping a glass and sliding it into place behind him. You idly spun the plain band of metal that circled your little finger – your promise finger – as you continued scanning the article, looking for anything that might be a clue to you. Apparently the body wasn’t found too far from where you were now, but that wasn’t helpful. He could move fast, and he did. The whole thing was riddled with the usual useless vagaries, police stating that they were working hard and that everyone should just be careful when going out at night. Everything they always said, none of it any more helpful than any other time. 

It had been too long since you’d last seen the Corinthian, somewhere around half a century. You’d stopped keeping track of the years when it got to thirty. You hadn’t realised at the time that you wouldn’t be seeing him again, you’d laughed off his talk of the two of you leaving the Dreaming for the Waking World as nothing more than that; talk of grand plans as you lay wrapped in each other's arms, bodies pleasantly exhausted from the night’s activities. He’d held you close, kissed you very gently, then said nothing more on the matter. It wasn’t until you went to look for him later that it sunk in. He’d been serious, and he’d left. 

Then, of course, there had been the whole debacle with the ruler of your home simply vanishing one day. You’d thought of the Corinthian, wondered what he was doing. You’d tried to look for him in people’s dreams, but you were a small nightmare and didn’t possess the power he did. And with Lord Morpheus gone, the Dreaming had begun to crumble as people succumbed to what the humans were calling “the sleepy sickness”. 

There came a time around the twenty year mark of your king’s absence that you’d caved as many dreams had and slipped quietly into the realm of humanity, sliding through them like a snake through long grass. They fascinated you, and after a while you’d started to see the appeal of living among them. You didn’t exactly see their best side – you were a nightmare, after all, and like attracts like – but nonetheless you gulped every drop of their lives you could get. 

You’d become aware of the Corinthian’s little hobby purely by chance, the random drop of a hat – or newspaper, since it was a dirty and battered tabloid blowing across the street in front of you just around a decade ago that had set the ball rolling. His name stood out to you like it was glowing, the description of the crime tactfully vague yet somehow more horrifying because of it cementing in your mind that it was him, that it was your Corinthian. You’d followed it like a hound follows a deer ever since, scouring every discussion, every article, every word printed on it with a comb so fine it was surprising anything at all could even get through. Yet something must have, because here you were, still searching. 

“Can I get you something?” the bartender was asking someone, not you. You could feel them slide into the seat beside you, despite the bar being almost empty. Whatever, you wouldn’t be here much longer anyway. 

“Whiskey, on the rocks.” 

You froze. What were the chances, now, after all this time? You’d always imagined you would be the one to find him, had played out the scenario in your head to no end. You’d find a clue, follow it, everything would fall into place and there he’d be, sitting in a dark corner of a bar or pub, watching people around him through those dark glasses he always wore. You’d slip into the seat beside him just as he was now doing to you. He’d be shocked to see you, he’d give some wonderful explanation as to why he hadn’t come looking for you, then he’d laugh that beautiful laugh of his and shoot you that special admiring grin he reserved just for you. Maybe you’d be coy, maybe you’d give in and slip right back into his arms as if he’d never left. 

“Reading something interesting, sweetheart?” 

A smile tugged persistently at the corners of your mouth, your stomach flipping at the familiar accent, the beloved pet name. No, it looked like coy was off the table. “Something that reminds me of someone who’s been gone way too long.” 

“Cut ‘em some slack,” the Corinthian said, humming appreciatively at the whiskey, “they’ve been busy.” 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, finally looking up, “they certainly have.” 

He looked the same as the last time you’d seen him, exactly as you’d imagined he would. Dark glasses obscuring his eyes, pale coat, neat swathe of blonde hair cast in gold by the yellow lighting of the bar. And he was smiling at you as he took another sip of his drink, a wide grin that made your heart soar. Shit, you’d missed him more than you’d realised. 

“Do you–” you started, just he said “what do you say–” 

“Sorry.” You stopped, gesturing for him to continue. 

“Should we get out of here?” 

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

He nodded, downing the last of his drink and paying the bartender. He glanced from the money to you, then back to the Corinthian. As the realisation dawned, you quickly started to tell him that he didn’t have to pay for you, that you could buy your own long since empty drink, fumbling in your pockets for the money you knew was there but seemed to be eluding you almost deliberately. 

“My treat, sweetheart,” the nightmare said, watching you idly. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“You don’t have to–” 

He held up a hand, stopping you mid sentence. “Consider it an apology. For being gone way too long.” 

You sighed, giving in. “Alright.” 

He nodded, pleased with himself, and offered you his arm. Casting a hasty farewell to the bartender – smiling at what must have looked like a dream couple – you slipped your hand into the crook of the Corinthian’s elbow and allowed him to lead you out onto the dark street. He may have been a nightmare, but nobody could say he wasn’t a gentleman. 

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“I’m taking you home with me.” Then, at your laugh; “something funny about that?” 

You shook your head, still smiling. “The real human experience, huh? Picking someone up from a bar and taking them home.” 

“Not just anyone,” he corrected. “Someone real special and real pretty.” 

“You do this a lot?” You tried to keep the question light, but something of your thoughts must have come through in your voice. 

“Jealous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You shrugged, fighting the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “No, just curious.” 

“Well let me tell you this,” he said softly, bending down close enough that his whiskey scented breath brushed your cheek, “no one can even come close to you.” 

“And no one can come close to you,” you replied, ignoring the bolt of warmth the words sent through you. Yep, you’d missed him way more than you realised. 

“Do you do this a lot?” he asked, his ever present grin dancing around his mouth. 

You shrugged, your hand drifting to his own, much larger one. “The novelty tends to wear off a bit.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “that sounded like a yes to me.” 

“Has all your time in the noise of the Waking World clogged up your ears, Corinthian?” 

“Maybe, but it’s cleared my head.” The mirth had fled from his features, his brows drawing together seriously. “I didn’t realise how much I’d miss you when I left.” 

“Why didn’t you come and find me?” 

“I tried. For about the first twenty years or so. I even went back to the Dreaming, but I guess you left before I got there.” 

You sighed, bringing your hand up to pull his arm across your shoulders. “I didn’t realise you were serious when you asked me to leave with you. If I knew, I would have come with you.” 

“You’re here now,” he shrugged. His fingers stroked yours, hesitating momentarily as he felt the cold metal on your littlest one. 

“Yeah. You were right,” you added. “It’s nice to have more than just people’s minds to explore. I like seeing the real things that dreams only echo.” 

He hummed in agreement, drawing you closer to his side. He smelled the same as he had when he’d left, dark and woody and if you had to describe it in a word, like something expensive. He smelled like home. If you were uncreated right then and there, you thought, you’d go happily. 

“This is me,” he said after a few blocks traversed in comfortable silence. The building wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old either. It wasn’t exactly large, but it wasn’t small. It was just an apartment building in the city, nothing about it really stood out. Except that the Corinthian was opening the door and holding it for you, inviting you inside. And you were going inside, following him into the elevator as you imagined countless humans had done before you. The thought might have disturbed you if it had been anyone but him, but you trusted the nightmare with your very soul and knew that he trusted you in the same way. He would never hurt you, and you would never hurt him. 

The elevator dinged, you followed him down the corridor. He opened the door, you followed him inside. He took your coat, the strange intimacy of the gesture sending shivers down your spine as you watched him hang it beside his own, letting your eyes linger on the perfect way his muscles moved under his skin, the smoothness and preciseness of each movement. Even if you didn’t know it was true, you’d have believed anyone who told you he was hand sculpted by a God. More than a God, in fact; an Endless. 

“Take a seat. Can I get you another drink?” he asked as he moved to the kitchen, his fingers trailing lightly over the bench top. 

“Sure,” you said, settling yourself on a stool. “Surprise me.” 

He shot you another grin, deftly pouring a glass of wine as red as blood and sliding it across to you. You didn’t catch the label, but something about it made you think it was probably the fancy kind. The Corinthian loved fancy things, and he loved giving them to you. You remembered the Dreaming, how no matter where you went you were sure to find beautiful little gifts left for you in his wake. What you wouldn’t give to relive that time, when it had been you and him and nothing between you but space, which could easily be crossed. 

He came around to your side of the bench, leaning against it with his own glass in hand. He watched you take a sip, satisfaction tugging at the corner of his mouth as you made a faint sound of pleasure. Yeah, you’d been right, this was the good stuff. He’d always liked seeing you receive things he gave you, another thing that didn’t seem to have changed. 

“So,” he said after a few minutes’ silence in which you drank sip for sip, savouring the richly layered flavours and aromas. 

“So,” you echoed. He was close enough that you could see every detail of him, and every detail of yourself reflected in those dark glasses, like two pools of black on his face. Even if you couldn't see his eyes – or mouths, you supposed – you could feel the intensity of his gaze, sending shivers down you spine. Then he leaned down, brushing your lips with his so lightly and quickly that you weren’t even sure he’d actually done it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears as he drew closer still, and this time you were sure. He kissed you with all the warmth and care that he always had, his lips silken as they’d always been against yours. The soft “clink” of his glass being set gently on the table barely registered with you as his hands slid up your thighs, over your hips, around your waist.

You pulled away softly, taking a moment to catch your breath and place your own drink far enough back on the counter that you weren’t at risk of knocking it over. The Corinthian watched you, a faint furrow marring his brow. 

“Come here,” you said softly, holding out your hands to him. He pushed himself off the bench, standing directly before you in all his towering glory. You’d almost forgotten just how tall he was, but you were starkly reminded now. He let you place your hands on his face, sighing at the contact as you smiled. Just as he pressed his cheek into your palm, your fingers skirted deftly to his glasses. You hesitated, then at his near imperceptible nod, drew them away. You folded them neatly, slowly, setting them on the bench beside the two half drunk wine glasses. Then you turned back to him, smiling. 

His face had been the second you ever saw, and as such, it would never be anything other than beautiful in your mind. He’d been there when Morpheus had breathed life into you, he’d been there in the beginning when you were learning how to live and he would be there at the end when you were finished, you were sure of it. Truth be told, you’d never really understood why he kept his glasses on even when it was just the two of you. When pressured, he simply shrugged and said “habit” in that nonchalant tone of his, but you saw the way he nearly cringed away from you the first time you’d removed the dark lenses. He was apprehensive even now, the idea that something in his very being could elicit such visceral reactions from humans – even you, nightmare as you were – deeply ingrained into his psyche. It wasn’t fair, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t resent Morpheus just a little. He hadn’t given either of you a choice in what you were, but at least you didn’t have to hide a part of yourself that was so significant as your eyes. They were the windows to the soul, after all. 

“Beautiful,” you whispered, stretching up to place a kiss on each of his little mouths, then returning once more to his real mouth. He was smiling too, you could feel it. The whole thing was slow and warm and soft as your hands ran over his jaw, his cheeks, his neck, finally fixing in his soft hair. He was pulling you towards him, so hard you were almost entirely standing on the floor now, your butt just touching the stool you’d been sitting on. 

“Come on,” he murmured between kisses, taking your hand. “I got somewhere better than the kitchen.” 

You allowed him to lead you through a narrow doorway, down a short corridor and into a modest bedroom. You’d barely set foot through the door before he was on you again, hungrier and more insistent this time. You gave as good as you got, pushing him back across the carpeted floor until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down with a soft “oof”, pulling you with him. You settled into place as if you’d never left, straddling his hips with your hands tangled in the front of his shirt. 

You attacked his neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, fighting not to moan yourself at the sounds he was making. The muscles of his throat flexed and twitched under your ministrations, a growing hardness forming where your hips met his. You ground softly against him, humming at the heat it conjured. 

“Shit darlin’,” he groaned as you sucked at a spot right over his jugular. “You’re so, hm, good.”  

“Hm?” you drew back, observing the scattering of dark marks you’d left on his skin before reattaching your lips to his own. He was yours, all yours. You pulled his hair lightly, stifling his moan with your mouth. He knew exactly what his words were doing to you. 

“Take this off,” he whispered, tugging at your shirt. 

“You do it,” you replied. 

He drew back, stilling your hands. “Stand up,” he told you. “Stand up and take your clothes off.” 

You paused for a moment, then smiled and did as he asked. “This is new,” you said as you shed layer after layer of your garments until you were bare and they were in a pile on the floor, watching his face carefully.

He shrugged. “I like watching humans do it, figured it’d be a million times better with you.” 

“And?” 

“I was right,” he grinned. Many people, you knew, would have felt self conscious in your position. Hell, you’d felt it when taking off your clothes in front of humans you took to your bed a few times, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be in your nature. You were a nightmare, a creature beyond them, and you had been crafted by an Endless just as the Corinthian had. But it had been there. Now, however, you felt a warm glow spread through you as his toothy gaze scanned your body, drinking it in like he was a man dying of thirst. You felt seen with him, for who you were. 

You returned his grin, leaning forward to place your hands on his thighs. His fingers cupped your jaw, gently enough that you were still able to sink to your knees at the edge of the bed and begin undoing his belt buckle. You’d felt how hard he was sitting on his lap, and right now you wanted nothing more than the warm weight of his cock in your mouth. 

“Can I?” you asked softly, your face inches from his crotch. 

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on your hand. Or more specifically, the band of metal around your finger. “Still got it,” he whispered, almost in awe. 

“Yeah,” you said, “of course I do.” The ring had been one of his many gifts, but it was perhaps your most treasured. He’d slipped it onto your finger back in the Dreaming as you lay against his chest, covering your hand with kisses. When you’d asked what it was he’d told you it was promise, though you’d never found out what the promise was for. 

Now, he shook his head in wonder and smiled. You could’ve just sat and looked at that smile forever. 

“So…?” you prompted instead, your hands still resting lightly on his crotch. 

“Go ahead,” he told you. His fingers tangled gently in your hair as you took his dick in your hands, licking the tip ever so gently. “Stop teasing, sweetheart,” he said breathily. 

“Magic word?” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his hot skin. 

“Please,” he grunted. You smiled, licking your lips before sinking down on him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking. 

“Alright?” you asked as he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. 

The Corinthian nodded. “Don’t stop.” 

You nodded too, going down on him again. You were mindful of your teeth, instead using mostly your tongue and your hands where your mouth wouldn’t fit. He was familiar, this was familiar, but you would hate to choke on him because you were too enthusiastic about sucking him off. But you needn’t have worried, it was like listening to a song from when you were younger, the Corinthian’s heavy breathing and hand in your hair guiding you in the familiar movements. You could never forget this, no matter how much time had passed. 

You let a moan escape you, which in turn made his hips jolt. You hummed again, and his hold on your hair tightened. 

“That’s it sweetheart,” he whispered. “You look so good.” 

That really made you moan, an embarrassingly desperate sound to accompany the embarrassingly desperate way your thighs rubbed together in search of any friction. He was driving you insane, and you were completely helpless. 

You didn’t stop your increasingly messy sucking and licking, completely enraptured by the little breaths and gasps your attention was conjuring from the nightmare, revelling in his hand in your hair and the occasional curses or words of praise he let slip. You probably could have stayed there forever, listening to him forever, feeling his hot weight in your mouth forever, if he hadn’t brought his hand to your face and gently eased you off him. He surveyed your face carefully, running his thumb across your reddened and swollen lips. 

“Hm?” you asked, parting your lips to allow his fingers into your mouth. You sucked lightly, keeping eye contact the whole time. 

“Come up here,” he told you, patting his lap. 

“If I get to take your clothes off,” you replied. “It’s hardly fair that I’m here naked and you look like you just walked in.” That was a gross exaggeration, between the hickeys on his neck and his dishevelled hair he certainly did not look like he'd just walked in.

“Just walked in, huh?” he raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at his rock hard dick shining with your spit. 

“Maybe not just,” you yielded. “Either way, it’s not fair.” 

“Cause you’ve always been so big on fair.” It came out as mocking, but there was softness in his face as he said it. Yes, you were big on fairness, something he knew very well. How many of your rants about what was fair had he endured? How many had he cut short with kisses, and how many more had he simply nodded along with until you were finished before producing some trinket or other that would distract you until the next slight of justice occurred? 

Either way, he didn’t resist as you pulled his shirt over his head, and offered assistance when you eased his pants and underpants off his legs. Only when he was naked before you did you resume your earlier place straddling his hips. You ran your hands over his smooth, warm chest, down his arms, back up again and then down once more over the subtle planes of his stomach. His body reacted to your touch instinctively, goosebumps forming in the wake of your hands, his breath hitching in his throat. 

Your insides clenched as he spat into his hand, adding to the wetness already coating his dick. He glanced at you, a silent “are you ready?”, then at your breathed “yes” and lifted hips, slid into you. It was like a missing piece had fallen into place. You’d had others in his absence, but what you’d said to him earlier had been true; they’d all paled compared to him. He fit inside you perfectly, a blissful stretch and familiar, beloved burn as your bodies adjusted to each other after too long apart. 

He whispered your name like a prayer, lightly kissing your neck before settling in the hollow where it met your shoulder. “You feel too good,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I forgot how good you feel.” 

“Me too,” you sighed, then rocked your hips over his. His fingers dug into your flesh as you moved, guiding you and bracing himself all at once. He continued to deliver the same wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and collar bone as you’d given him earlier, leaving a trail of dark marks behind. Shit, how you’d missed those. Nothing could even come close to how he did this with you. Just as he was yours, you were his. All his and nobody else’s. 

You reached between the two of you, touching yourself as the Corinthian’s dick slid seamlessly in and out of you, every movement an explosion of pure bliss. His teeth grazed your skin and you pressed your lips together, frantically stifling the moan that threatened to burst from you. 

“Don’t try to be quiet,” he said. “I wanna hear you.” 

“Ok,” you panted, breaking off in another moan. The sound seemed to spur him to go harder, faster, the warmth of his mouth on your neck combined with his hands on your hips and his cock in you almost too much to bear. 

The sensation built in your stomach, gradually more and more until you felt a single tear leak from your eye. The Cotinthian was holding you so close to him he may as well have been trying to absorb your body into his, his sweat and spit mixing where his face was pressed into your shoulder as he frantically delivered more hickeys to your skin. You would be covered in them come morning.  He whispered your name, every syllable like a prayer as it fell from his lips. He twitched inside you, and you shivered involuntarily. 

“Yes,” you hissed, reaching down once more to touch yourself. He spilled with a curse inside you, his head falling back and his eyes closed. Fuck, he was gorgeous, and you’d brought him undone. 

Your own climax flooded through you, all your muscles tensing together at once, a shuddering, desperate cry of his name torn from your throat. You rode him through your combined pleasure, until your legs were no longer shaking and his breathing had evened out. 

Yet still, neither of you moved. 

The Corinthian rested his forehead against your chest, his arms circling your waist. You held him, his hair tickling your face and neck where it brushed against you. He gently kissed over the dark marks he’d left on your skin, soothing and warm, and you let your lips rest against the silk of his hair. Even with sweat beeding his skin and the whole room smelling of sex, he still smelled good, like home. You couldn't get enough. 

Eventually, he pulled out of you, lifting your boneless body onto the bed beside him. You whined at the loss of contact, but he simply smiled and assured you that he was just getting you a towel, that he’d be back in a minute. He kept his word, returning and gently wiping over your skin before sliding onto the mattress beside you. 

You wriggled sideways, laying your head on his chest where you could feel his heart beating under your cheek. This was the part where most humans fell asleep, but you didn’t. You were a nightmare, and nightmares didn’t sleep. 

The Corinthian’s arm snaked around you, his fingers lacing with your own. This, you thought, is what love must be like. You’d given the matter a lot of thought since you’d arrived in the Waking World and had come to the conclusion that Lord Morpheus probably hadn’t made you to love. You were to scare humans, force them to confront their fears and darker selves, not to love. Maybe dreams could, but you didn’t think it was something for nightmares. 

Still, you’d devoured all the resources on the subject that you could. Humans didn’t seem to know what it was either, and had very different opinions on the matter. You wanted to love the Corinthian, and some would say that in itself was the real thing. Others would say that you loved him because you’d missed him so much, others still would say that you couldn’t love him because love was what made them human and you certainly were not human. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. But anyone who saw the two of you now, twined together so tightly you were nothing more than a mess of limbs would have thought it was. 

“If we can…” you started, licking your lips, unsure of yourself. “If we can love, I love you.” 

He was quiet for a moment, then he drew your hand to his lips and kissed it softly, running his fingers over the ring. “And I love you. I promise.” 

“I don’t want you to leave again,” you whispered. 

“I won’t.” The Corinthian leaned over, flipping you onto your back and pressing your still linked hands into the mattress. “I promise,” he said, kissing you softly. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.” 

“Alright,” you replied. You kissed him, softly and sweetly, basking in the warmth of his body pressing down on you and pleasant heaviness of your own. If he ever asked you to go somewhere with him, you told yourself silently, you would. You’d never let him go again. 

HOW HOT IS HE AND WHY IS HE THIS HOT it's genuinely unfair

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 46 - watching notes

Full disclosure: I'm not in a particularly good mood today. Have you seen that "no productivity. Only guild." Meme flying around? That's me today :|

Hopefully this will distract me (though distraction was the problem in the first place 🙈)

I apologise for any typos you'll finde in this post 😅

To recap, the last thing I learned was that apparently, Jiggy married his own sister because Jin Guangshan was a scumbag who raped more women than he could possibly remember

I was told by several people that this episode is their favourite. No pressures or anything :D

The way someone is dragging up Jiggy's secrets has a lot of poetic justice to it. Everyone is outraged and gossiping. Consensus is reached quickly. Kinda makes me feel that that someone (who probably also wrote the letter to jgy) knows exactly how to use the sect world's worst qualities as a weapon

Yao what's-his-name, resident gossip queen, at it again

Don't look at me my memory is as bad as wwx when it comes to names :D

I was about to write who is Lianfang Zum again and then I remembered that it's jiggy's honorary title. See what I mean? ^^

What does it say about me that my heart makes a leap when I simply see wwx leaning close to lwj to whisper to him? 😅 I'll probably die reading the novel, that's what that says

Oh so it was the maid who sent the letter

Come on Wei Wuxian! That was cruel

Yeah Yao what's-his-name, why would you need to know the identity of who ever is behind this? It's not like you've ever been deceived before!

What's... with that bracelet?

I love it how everyone looks positively startled when Lan Wangji says something unprompted :D

Wait ... Zwei Jun is in his hands? Shit, i don't remeber what happened there. Where did Xichen go again? 😬

I'm so confused right now 🙈 I can't watch and read the subtitles and type

Okay, watched the whole conversation again, now I'm following

I reiterate my earlier statement that whoever is pulling the strings here knows exactly what strings to pull to get the clans to act

Great, another mob 🙄

Loooool

NOW you want his help? 😂

Sure, as soon as he can serve YOU with his "evil tricks", that's okay!

You can see how much wwx changed because he does not hold their hypocrisy to their faces. He mostly seemed tired of it

And Jiang Cheng just realised that wwx might indeed not be responsible for Jiang Yanli's death, didn't he? He's almost stunned 🥺

Or is BEAUTIFUL to see Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji move in such unity! 😭

Oh ... those are the graves of his foster parents, right? :(

And Yanli ... oh God I forgot about Yanli 🥺

I'm crying again. Nothing on this show will ever hit as hard to me as the Yunmeng siblings' fate

I couldn't help myself, I legitimately just stroked my laptop screen where Yanli's plate was 🥺

So many conflicting emotions

Thanks to a friendly anon, I know that these three bows together are marriage thing! 😭😭😭

So yeah, they're married now. I dont make the rules :')

Somehow, this feels like them asking wwx's foster family's blessing

And now I'm imagining Shijie smiling back at them gently and I'm crying 🥺

And by God, I love lwj's gentle teasing :')

This whole scene, he's so soft! 😭

And it think that Wei Wuxian probably thought that he'd never get to step into Lotus Pier again. But here, he can finally say his goodbyes to his Shijie properly. He can heal! 🖤

And again, I cannot stress enough how wonderful that is! And how rare and precious in a show like this. So often character's get put through unimaginable trauma, but they either brush it off no problem or the show/movie ends immediately after the main action and you are left to imagine the number it did on the character's psyche. There are so rarely fantasy shows that really dive into the emotional fallout the plot has on their characters and then give them time to heal. Thus show does both and I'm so goddamn overjoyed my it!

Come to think of it, it reminds me of a very good hurt/comfort fic 🤷‍♀️

Jiang Cheng pleae, fir once, try not to be angry immediately when you're hurting :(

He still takes special offence that lwj is there. Makes me wonder if he still feels like wwx chooses lwj over the Jiang sect and is still hurt by it 😔 (note that at the same time, he reminds wwx that he's very much not a member of the Jiang clan anymore. God, the man has not worked through his own feelings ...)

For once, as much as I love it when lwj defends wwx (especially when it's not against any physical harm, but because he doesn't want wwx to be hurt emotionally) I think him interfering with this particular conflict does not help

Okay sorry, but no! lotus pier was not destroyed because wwx saved lwj in that cave. That was just an excuse for the Wen sect. They would have come eventually anyway

Ohhh

So there's my answer

He's still hurt because he feels wwx chooses anyone else over his family, which is to say him

And he probably can't understand because their positions are so different. The (future) sect leader and the son of a (dead) servant and a rogue cultivator who never felt quite like he belonged 😔

It's so goddamn tragic how much between these two was destroyed simply because they have such a different status in society and could never quite understand each other's perspective

And again, wwx just takes it 💔

Until, that is, lwj's honour gets besmirched

Don't fight in front of Shijie 🥺

Jiang Cheng's every action screams that he still loves his brother and that amidst all that pain for his lost family, is also deep betrayal and grieve for the brother he thought he could always count on 🥺💔

Can we appreciate for a second how much this shot tells us? From Jiang Cheng's angry desperation, to Wei Wuxian's quite acceptance of his rage (which must be so confusing to Jiang Cheng and probably hurt him even more. Because fighting is always how these two resolved their issues!) to Lan Wangji who is in full on protective mode (which I find more than heartwarming,but still think probably isn't helpful rn)

He ... what?

I still don't quite understand when exactly wwx's lack of golden core shows. Why does he have a nosebleed here?

What?

Oh!

Wen Ning 😱

I get what he wants to do!

Have we ever seen him this calm and determined before?

Abd they understand 😱😱😱

The look on all of their faces! Shiiiiit

I'm crying again

Oh wangii is crying 🥺

Wen Quing 💔💔💔 I'm crying even harder just looking at her. I've MISSED her 🥺

Lan Zhan your FACE!! 😭

The way he's looking at wwx in his arms, as if he's seeing him fir the first time

And by god, I can only imagine what he must be thinking

He must be reevaluation every single interaction they had since wwx started down the path of demonic cultivation 😭

I'm a bit in awe of Wen Ning here and how much he must have been holding in. That's the steadiest and most confident he's ever been

Oh Jiang cheng 💔

That looks like a man whose entire world has just been shaken to its core

And Lan Wangji is crying so much 🥺

God I hope he doesn't blame himself even more 🥺

Aaaaaaahhhh, so that is why he wouldn't just carry the sword for appearance sake and why he just had a nosebleed!

Jiang Cheng probably needs about a month to process all that :/

And therapy ...

Aaaaaaahhhh! The boat scene! I've seen gifs! 😍😍😍

A penny for Lan Wangji's thoughts ...

Oh I'm so so so so glad that Wen Ning gets to say thank you to the man who raised his ... cousin (?) :')

Oh god we get to see!!!!

Oh little a Yuan 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I wonder now, did Lan Qiren know who the child was that his nephew suddenly brought back to cloud recess?

I'm glad that we all learned from this that keeping secrets from the people we love, especially secrets that concern them personally, will eventually come back to bide us in the ass. Than you for delivering that important lesson, wen Ning!

Which reminds me that I hope they eventually tell wwx that they know 😬

I swear to god, one of these days I will melt from the gentleness in lan Wangji's gaze :')

Shit. He had to be awake? 😳

You can pinpoint the moment Lan Wangji's heart breaks for all the suffering wwx endured and how close he came to loosing him even then 🥺

Waking like that in you lovers arms in the middle of a lotus pond - that's the dream *sighs* (minus the passing out bit)

It's weirdly cute that wwx thinks that it's Jiang Cheng's insults that have lwj so upset 😅

Oh GOOOOD ...

I can't

The moment Yanli's themes started to play and she appeared I started to bawl 😭😭😭

And he's sharing the lotus pods with them ... oh please, lwj, please understand what he's saying. That's his pove language! His sister's food was how he received love and right now he passes it on to you! Please, please understand it! 🥺

Oh lwj, don't 🙈

Awwwwww ....

He's breaking the rules for you!!! Just to make you smile!!! 😭😭

And holy shit look at their expressions 😭

By now you should know that he's willing to break the rules for you :')

And poor third wheel Wen Ning 😂

Now there are glittering butterflies???

Do they have some kind of romantic aesthetic bingo going on in this episode???

Oh okay, messenger butterflies

Please appreciate wwx almost climbing into lan Wangji's lab in excitement :D

Thay scene transition was pretty af!

Hey! Why do they bully wen Ning? 😤

*shakes wwx by the shoulders* DO YOU GET THAT HE LOVES YOU NOW???

Huh, this episode was a roller coaster. you guys did NOT exaggerate! I loved it to pieces. I'm floored once more by all the actor's performances. Wen Ning revealed a lot about his character, Jiang Cheng broke my heart, Lan Wangji made it melt and Shijie is still able to make me bawl in an instant. But ... I'm not left with a bitter feeling. Sure, jiang Cheng and wei Wuxian havebt reconciled, but the truth is the first step to even have that possibility. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are both healing and whatever happens in the last 4 (4!!!😭) episodes, I'm not dreading it that much right now. I feel like we're climbing upwards :)

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose thank you guys for staying with me for this crazy ride 💙🖤💙

Also one last thing: please don't tell me what happens differently in the novel in any given scene. I am still reading it (about half way through rn) and I'd like to still be surprised by stuff like first kisses and love confessions 💙🖤

I should have put something like this at the end before, but I always forgot. That's on me 😅 so don't feel bad, if you've shared something before :)

[nish-with-no-niche]

Open The Door....

Genre: Romance, Arranged marriage (sort of)au.

Pairing: Got7 Jaebeom x (sick'o mode!) OC

Characters:

Got7 Im Jaebeom Seungmae Meera (29 yrs) May-Ah(Meera's best friend, 30y/o, special appearance) Mrs. Seungmae (Meera's mom, 50y/o)

Summary:

" You're worried about that ? " (laughs heartily) "I've seen you in your worst condition, Meera....."

"She isn't too well."

"What happened?"

"Meera ate too much at last night's party."

Both Jaebeom and an apologetic Mrs. Seungmae were walking up the stairs to Meera's bedroom, meanwhile......

"Hn, this is the fourth time already...... Now! Where did I keep my towel? Must be on the sofa. Hmm, find it soon Meera or else hell will break loose."

With determination in her eyes, Meera decided to search downstairs and was going out of her room.

" Uff, I really need to hit the bathroo- aaaaah!"

Meera ran inside her bedroom and in a split second shut the door on Jaebeom's face.

"Jaebeom-ssi! What are you doing here?!?" Said Meera shocked at the unexpected visitor.

"Uh... May-Ah told me you were sick."

Aish that good-for-nothing, I'm gonna sue her. What do I do now? Hissed Meera feeling shameful of her present state.

"I'm really sorry Jaebeom-ssi, but now is not a good time. I seriously cant see you today."

"That's okay, this is why I came here. " Smiled Jaebeom. "Can you please let me in now?"

" No- please- I really look like a cave-man right now, trust me, you'll forget all thoughts about marrying me."

______________________

Jaebeom was chosen by Meera's parents for her Arranged marriage because she was very engrossed in her work as a software engineer and had previously turned down all prospective offers that came her way.

Naturally, Mrs Seungmae was worried that eventually her precious, hard working and eldest daughter who deserved the world would end up having no one by her side because of her reserved personality.

Meera didn't like the idea at first , and she still had a lot to get done, so Jaebeom proposed that they should date instead for a while to get to know each other and also so that Meera gets comfortable enough around him.

Meera was an all rounder according to him. She was stern but sweet , clumsy but admirable, simple but beautiful, tall, long hair, thoughtful- the list goes on. But more than anything, she was earnest. She was tailor-made for him and he wanted to be perfect for her.

"Ahahahahaha. You're worried about that?" laughed Jaebeom heartily.

"Meera , did you forget I've seen you in your worst state, when you were drunk?"

Mom :- "What? When did that-"

In a swift motion the door was opened and a cold hand pulled Jaebeom inside the room before Mrs. Seungmae could even digest the shocking revelation of her daughter being drunk.

Of all people. Her daughter.

Looking towards a clueless Jaebeom Meera pleaded in a hushed tone- "don't speak anymore."

"Mom? Didn't you have to go to Aunt Saeri's house? She's waiting."

"Oh, yes I know. But let me come back home then you see what happens to you. "Chastised her mom.

However, Jaebeom who was looking at the state of Meera's room thought- okay, she really is a mess right now.

______________________

"Well.... sit on the ,uh.... desk-chair for a while and- uh- let me clear up the- "

Meera ran to the bathroom to deposit the contents of her system.

She felt like vanishing from existence that very moment. In the room was her soon-to-be fiancè, all clad in gentlemanly aura, and here she was, a pathetic excuse of a woman, who has no elegance, no sophistication and her dignity going down the drain with every passing second.

Jaebeom came from behind and he gathered all the hair strands and held them behind her head all the while stroking her back gently.

At the sudden touch, Meera motioned with her left hand for him to go away but he didn't budge.

"We are in a relationship, it's natural for a man to do this for the girl."

After hearing those words,Meera couldn't say anything to him and let him help.

I'm not a kid , even my own mom didn't show me any sympathy when I was hurtling in the morning.

______________________

"I'm so sorry you had to witness that."

"It's okay,I didn't know your situation was this bad until i came here so I didn't bring any sick people's food." Said Jaebeom while cleaning her room.

Meera was resting on the bed , laying against the headrest, as Jaebeom instructed her to.

" 'Sick people's food', hehe" repeated Meera.

"You should go back now jaebeom-ssi,you must be having so much work."

" No worries, I don't have any work today. Plus, my sister is having a party at home. Aaaand it was very loud so I came to spend the day here."

"Oh no, you didn't have to take a day off because of- "

"Today is a Sunday, Meera."

"Right! right, ohoho, yeah..." flustered, Meera closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep.

Just then Meera's mom, chimed, "Meera? I'll be leaving now. Jaebeom-ssi, do you want me to give you some breakfast?"

"Oh, that's not required Ma'am, I already ate, although, I would love to have lunch- if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

" Why not? I'm sure Meera would love to have you too. Thankyou so much for taking care of her , I'll be back soon!"

_______________________

It was 2 pm now, Jaebeom was on his phone seated across from Meera on the bed, while said person was working on her laptop, now that her condition was a bit stable.

"Jaebeom-ssi?"

"Yes? "

"Do you always wear suits? Like, it's your day off, no? So shouldn't you be in shorts or t-shirts? " asked Meera looking at him curiously.

"I do, but I was going to my soon-to-be fiancee's house, I thought I had to look handsome and manly in front of your parents." Jaebeom smirked, playfully.

Amused by his answer Meera went back to her work , grinning.

"They'll confirm the engagement date by next month." Meera stated, eyes not leaving her computer screen.

"Yeah, I got to hear about it from my sister." After a hesitant moment later he spoke, "Meera?".

"Hmm?"

She seemed a bit engrossed in her work, a trait Jaebeom respected her for. Even though she wasn't in a good enough condition to work, that didn't deter her from completing the task she was committed to.

And he admired her for that .

"I have an office gathering, coming Thursday...... would you like to accompany me ? My colleagues wanted to meet you before the, you know..... engagement."

Meera looks up to find Jaebeom looking straight at her.

(Suddenly conscious) " Oh sure! I would love to meet them! Hopefully I'll become healthy by then.

With a small smile Jaebeom replied, "We're good then."

"Meera! I'm home." Announced Mrs. Seungmae.

"I feel okay enough to get up now. Shall we head downstairs for lunch?" Facing Jaebeom , Meera asked.

"After you." Replied Jaebeom cheekily.

Smiling, Meera announced, "we're coming mom, let's have lunch."

Drawing Credits : @19bottlesofdishsoap Kindly check out her tumblr and support her as she is starting out new in this field.

A/N: lastly if you are reading this then it means you must have read my fanfiction till the end , thankyou very much for that and you literally are the most precious person to me. Hope you enjoyed it ! :)

@g7net

[thewynne]

Ranking Lucy Punch Ugly Stepsister Appearances By Cinderella Adaptation

4. Cinderella (Fairy Tales, BBC, 2008)

This version is set at a modern university, where Cinderella is a lowly cleaning lady who dreams of becoming an anthropologist and the ugly stepsisters are graduate students. It is horrendous. The "prince" (a slimy misogynistic hotshot professor of dubious ethical standards) is repulsive and barely learns otherwise, and as someone with an archaeology degree/a little bit of relevant experience, the way he casually manhandles his prize artifact had me screaming in rage the entire time (it's a human skull!! why isn't it treated respectfully??). I know Indiana Jones manhandles shit too, but at least Indiana Jones fights Nazis.

I like the anti-elitist bent of a cleaning lady-turned-academic, and the fairy godmother (that one older lady coworker who looks out for you during your shittiest service job) is a highlight, Ms. Punch & her fellow coed are fine, even if irl anthro grad students would be much more exhausted & also want to file a complaint against the professor. But that professor, he fills me with so much rage, I want to tear up his tenure application, ban him from the SAA/AIA, and reject every single paper he ever tries to publish for the rest of his miserable career. -2/10.

3. Into The Woods (2014)

A frustrating adaptation of one of the greatest musicals of all time. The stepsisters are in it for about 2 minutes. Some truly great actors are doing their best, including Lucy, but their best can't make up for the somber color palette, boring direction, the fact that they downplayed approx. 60% of the humor that helps make the original work, and the fact that they REMOVED THE NARRATOR/OLD MAN WHICH HOLLOWS OUT THE THIRD ACT AND WRECKS THE ENTIRE EMOTIONAL CORE/MORAL OF THE SHOW sorry. Anyway. 5/10, Lucy gets an 8 for living her dreams.

2. Ella Enchanted (2004)

The key to this movie is understanding that it is not an adaptation of Gail Carson Levine's seminal book Ella Enchanted, it is a goofy fantasy romcom that happens to share the same name and basic conceit as GCL's book. You cannot compare them. It is a fool's errand.

With that in mind, pretty much EVERYONE in this movie understood the assignment and EVERYONE is having a blast, none more so than our orange-wearing, scenery chewing, Prince-fangirling Hattie played by Lucy Punch. Delightfully malicious, terrifyingly tacky, she is everything an ugly stepsister should be and we love her for it. 8/10, 11/10 for Hattie.

1. Cinderella (TV movie, Channel 4, 2000)

How to explain this Cinderella adaptation? It hews surprisingly closely to the original tale. Everyone dresses like it's the 50s. The sky is a constant hallucinogenic swirl of cgi colors. The fairy godmother is a magical fish hermit who lives in a cave. The prince rides a motorcycle and has a rock band. Everyone talks like they're high and/or on the set of Twin Peaks.

Cinderella (2000) cannot be described, it can only be experienced. Cinderella's stepmother & evil stepsisters get the most prominent roles and screen time out of the bunch, and they are INCREDIBLE. If Lucy Punch & her sister Goneril are in the background, it's only bc the incomparable Kathleen Turner CANNOT BE STOPPED as Cindy's evil stepmother, and nor should she. Kathleen Turner had one job: to be HIGH CAMP and EVIL, and she took to it like a peregrine falcon takes to hunting small mice. The full-throated way she goes "OK girls, someone's losing some toes!" while HOISTING UP A BOW SAW lives in my head rent-free to this day. A pure joy to behold.

Nothing in this adaptation makes sense. Still unclear if it actually exists or it happened in a fever dream. I've watched it 5 separate times. 112/10 for Kathleen Turner alone, 8/10 for the adaptation as a whole, 9/10 for Lucy Punch.

[gone-to-fight-the-fairies]

Head Over Hunt: Part 1

Request: Hi! 🙋🏼 i just found your blog.. you are awesome writer! I see your rqst are open.. could you do some Ketch x reader fics, where she is young hunter (like a sister to Winchesters). She and Ketch are taking some vamp nest together, and on their trip, they both kinda fall in love, but she is young and innocent, and Ketch being Ketch, try to push her.. eventually he gives in, and seek her... some fluff, kiss, smut end.. your call :) tnx

A/N: I wish Tumblr would let me cross out words in the title of posts because I wanted the title to be Head Over Heels Hunts, so now it's just Head Over Hunt.  

Also, thanks @aquivercactus for sending in the request. I hope this is similar to what you had in mind. And I've planned at least one other part to this so I'll tag you when I post that.

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Warnings: Blood, heavy make-out, groping, implied smut.

Word Count: 2143

The air was cold and chilling when you stepped out of the British Men of Letters owned Chrysler. The light coat couldn't stand against the winter air. As your back met the metal of the vehicle, a shiver ran up your spine. You could've stayed inside the car, where the heater was tuned just to your specific modifications. But the air suffocated you, the heat... it brought it all back; the fight with your brothers. The brisk air, as shallow as it made your breath, felt much more inviting. The chill distracted you from the shit show that was that afternoon. And, as the sun set over the mountains, and the storm clouds moved in, promising snow within the next hour, you wondered if you'd made a mistake in accompanying Arthur Ketch on this hunt.

"You seriously want to go on a hunt with that prick?" Dean had spat, staring down at you with more disdain than he held for Crowley these recent weeks since teaming up with the demon to stop Lucifer.

After the vampires infiltrated the British Men of Letter's bunker, both Mick Davies and Arthur Ketch had been more than impressed with your skill set. At their request, you joined the organization, a little more thoroughly than the Winchesters, since you agreed to go on several hunts with Arthur, alone.

You'd hidden it from your brothers. Claiming to stay at the bunker, or complete simple "errands" hunts while they continued to work with the Brits too, spending time with Mick Davies. But Sam and Dean didn't trust them, especially Ketch.

Dean had been close to shouting when you finally admitted to your brothers that this weekend you'd be hunting with Ketch. Dean had been close to shouting, the only thing keeping him in line was Sam.

"What Dean MEANS to say is, are you sure it's such a good idea?"

"No," Dean stopped his brother. "That's part of it, but I don't trust that British suit wearing monkey for a minute alone with you." He waged a pointed a finger in your face to emphasize his key point. "You aren't going."

Something on your face tipped Dean off. Maybe it was the alarm in your widened eyes or the way you bite your lip; Dean realized the truth.

"You've been already hunting with that creep!" Now he was shouting.

You kept your eyes on your eldest brother, ignoring Sam's shock dissolve into disappointment as you felt yourself losing your grip.

"I'm sorry I hid it from you guys. But I'm not a kid anymore. I can choose who I hunt with." Your tone was even, but lacked even an ounce of empathy, trying to keep your calm steady as Dean glared down at you like a disrespectful child.

Dean didn't say anything in response but turned towards Sam, who tried to keep his face stoic through the entire argument. "Aren't you going to back me up on this?"

"Well," Sam began, rubbing his neck, his shoulders shrugging in defeat. "I'm not completely against Ketch or any of them. They've already been hunting-"

"You're useless," Dean told him before turning back to you for the last time. "Point is, I don't trust him with my little sister. And if I have to pick you up myself and lock you in your room, then by Chuck I will." Dean threatened, standing above you in a dominating fashion.

You flinched as you accidentally scrapped your wounded knuckles on the zipper of your coat. Unaware that in your thoughts, you were zipping up your jacket to stay warm.

You avoided looking at your hand from the time it collided with Dean's face until now. He'd stayed true to his word; the moment he tried to stop you from leaving all of your rage expelled, and it was almost a blur of how you'd managed to get away. You knew your brother loved you, but he'd never treat Sam that way.

"They didn't have the exact disinfectant I was hoping for," Ketch's voice brought you out of your memories. His form illuminating in the gas station light, which should've put him at a disadvantage. But he'd never looked better. It made you wonder how unflattering you appeared. "but this should do the trick."

You took the small bag from Ketch, looking in to realize that he'd also purchased a few bandages for your hand. "Thank you."

"How did you say you received that cut, again?" Ketch's eyes were teasing you, trying to persuade you into telling your secret.

"I didn't," you spoke as you turned your back, walking around the front of the car to get back to the passenger seat. "But if you must know, I fought a band of pirates this morning."

"I see," Ketch played along, bobbing his head as he disconnected the gas pump from the car. "Pirates in the middle of Kanas, what a rare find."

"Exactly." You didn't fight the grin on your face, as you swung your body into the passenger seat, letting the bag rest onto your lap.

When Ketch returned to his seat, you turned towards him. "How much further until we're there?"

"Well, we still have to get through the rest of this bloody state before we reach Wichita Falls, Texas. The GPS says it shouldn't be more than," he tapped a few buttons on the digital screen embedded into the car "four hours. Wait," Ketch paused, cocking a brow at you. "you do this for a living, shouldn't you know how far away we are from our destination?"

"Dean always drives, so I don't really much pay attention."

It was a simple statement, but careless your tone, it reminded Ketch of how much younger you were than your brothers; than him.

"I never quite grasped the age difference between you and your brothers. I mean, Mary must've had you-"

"Mary isn't my mother." It was said with a deadpan. "You don't think we're all one happy, normal hunting family, do you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ketch said, glancing at you with uncertainty as he drove the car out of the gas station and back onto the deserted road.

"They're only my half-siblings," you clarified for the man, eyes engulfed with the scenery behind the window. "John was a real slut."

Ketch was no longer watching the road, fully immersed in your background. You turned your gaze onto the road, realizing Ketch was gaining speed on the only other car on the road. "Look out!"

Arthur was quick to swerve into the next lane, missing the car by not even a yard. He sped past the rustic truck, leaving it long behind as he grew silent, griping the wheel. In the midst of almost dying, you hadn't wondered about where Ketch's head was at.

Ketch apologized, and seconds later cleared his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the road. He silently cursed himself for almost hitting that car.

It hadn't been the first time you'd enchanted him with your charm. It was why he never rejected Mick's suggestions for Ketch to hunt with you. He enjoyed your company; too much if he were completely honest. He was visually satisfied any time he looked at you, but it was something about your demeanor, the way you held yourself with a calm confidence that was nothing similar to the boastful way he presented himself.  It was the first time in a long time Ketch had been interested in more than a woman's body.

But now, he knew he needed to keep his distance. Ketch had to put up a barrier. He couldn't let himself feel anything for you; romance's only purpose was to get in the way; to get you killed.

"So," Ketch attempted to defuse any previous interest he had, but after a few moments, he caved. "How did the Winchesters find you?"

"I actually found them. My mom gave me a number in case something happened to her, so when she died about six years ago I called, and Dean picked up. John was already dead, but I never really wanted to know him anyway."

Ketch remained silent, not sure if he should say anything to what you'd said. He wasn't use to anyone so forthcoming about their lives.

But you mistook his silence for judgment. "Sorry, not everyone has sophisticated British breeding."

Ketch frowned. "You truly believe I am that stuck up?"

"No, just that you have a stick up your ass."

The statement would've pissed Ketch off, should've. But the lowkey grin on your lips made him smile too. Damn, he'd have to learn to stop that.

"Ahhh!" The sound forced a shiver through Ketch's body as he beheaded the last vampire in his sight.

His feet were moving under him before he had realized, running through the cave towards the pitiful sound. Ketch called out your name repeatedly. Seeing red, he searched the tunnels, nearly praying to find you before it was too late.

"Ketch!" Another high-pitched scream. Ketch cursed, the sound bounced off the walls, confusing him of where you were located. He yelled your name again, choosing a direction and hoping it wasn't the wrong one.

After turning the bend, two figures appeared, grappling on the ground like wild animals for dominance. It only took a second for Ketch to realize one of them, was you. The opposing vampire was on top of you, leaning down over your arm as you reached for the discarded machete out of your reach.

Ketch was quick to act, pulling the monster off of you, giving it a merciless end as he gave it a few painful blows before carelessly chopping it neck until beheaded. Covered in blood, Ketch kneeled down at your side.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded until you grimaced in pain when trying to stand. Ketch turned on his flashlight, to see where you were hurt. You flinched back at the light, showcasing your torn arm as you used it to block the light. Ketch noted it was the same one with your worn knuckles.

Ketch took your arm lightly to view before taking your hand in his, ignoring every barrier he'd had in place. "You'll need stitches. We should leave now."

Ketch aided you in standing on your feet, escorting you out of the tunnel, careful to step over the vampires corpses before reaching the fading sunlight of the woods. Ketch attended to your arm immediately after reaching the car. Neither of you spoke, aside from Ketch's apologies whenever you flinched in pain from the needle.

It was getting late; it was dark when Ketch finished, using only the light from the car to stitch you up. You both agreed to rest a night in a hotel before making the drive back home. Exhaustion was the underrated choice of vocabulary for what you both felt.

"Your room's here, across the hall from mine. If you need anything, please let me know," Ketch said once in the hallway of your hotel, turning his back to swipe his key card in the door.

But as he stepped inside, he turned to see you hadn't moved, a partly disappointed expression on your features. "Is it your arm?"

"No, it's just- never mind. Night Ketch," you called, finally entering your room. You shut the door, leaving Ketch alone in the hall.

Ketch stared at the door, several possibilities developing in his mind. What if you ached for him the way he did for you? He couldn't reside in his room knowing it was a possibility. When he could have you all to himself.

The temptation was too great as he stepped into the hall, letting his door shut behind him. He stood in front of your door, debating if he should knock.

Before he knew it, his fist was tapping the door. You opened the door, a little wide-eyed before Ketch leaned in and kissed you.

You instantly gave in, letting Ketch press you against the open door. You swallowed a moan, hungrily kissing Ketch as he was still getting use to the idea that he was, in fact, kissing you.

"I just don't want to be alone tonight," you whispered between kisses.

"I'm here," he motioned for you to wrap your legs around him, instantly pressing his forming bulge against your core.

You moaned slightly, the anticipation going straight between your legs as Ketch walked you further into the bedroom as the door shut closed.

Part 2

Tagging: @blasted-with-salt @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deaths-maiden @jensen-jarpad @mycuddlycorner