#wandering for a witch-hunt

[aroaessidhe]

aro & ace books: Fey

The Wolf Among The Wild Hunt - NA novella, aroace MC in a m/nb QPR

The Witch King - YA duology, demi love interest and bi ace best friend (+ less traditional fey compared to all the others here)

Ironspark - YA urban fantasy, ace major character (don't love how his coming out scene was handled, but liked it overall)

Of The Wild - m/m romance novella, ace MC

Sinners - urban fantasy duology with an aroace m MC

Wander The Night - fantasy with aroace m MC

From The Dark We Came - fantasy, MC is demisexual & has fey heritage (though it's primarily a vampire book)

#aspec books / aspec database / tumblr masterpost

[faline-cat444]

Portion for the last bits of the month

[vigilskeep]

ariane is cute

[mammonsrockstargf]

Do you think we're together in every universe?

Summary: “I’ll find you in every single universe and if I can’t walk I’ll crawl to you. That I know for certain.” Pairing: Solomon x gn!reader Wordcount: 2k (about a 8 min read) Contents: Parallel universes, arranged marriage, witch-hunts, alcohol consumption, short mentions of guns and knives, kissing, tattoos, I think that’s all

You stare at the sleeping man beside you. “Sol, wake up please” you whisper, poking his cheek with your finger.

“Please go back to sleep, my love,” Solomon groans, his arm around your waist tightening. You huff and give him a small peck. The corner of his lips turn upwards shortly before he scowls again.

“It’s importaaant~” you whisper and he hides his face in his pillow, grumbling into it. “What is it?” he asks.

“Do you think we’re together in every universe?” His eyes open and his brows furrow. “You seriously interrupted my sleep for that?” he asks and you pout. “Old man,” you complain and a chuckle leaves him.

“Of course I love you in every universe,” he says and pulls you closer to him, closing his eyes again. He gives the top of your head a soft kiss.

“I’ll find you in every single universe and if I can’t walk I’ll crawl to you. That I know for certain.”

—

"There you are. I've been looking for you," 

You swirl around and immediately relax when you see Solomon smiling at you. You’re standing in a corner of the ballroom, watching the many couples dance. “You look stunning tonight,” He says and you let your eyes wander, taking in his elegant black suit, with blue embroidered details.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself, viscount,” you say and bow your head in a show of respect. Solomon lets out a deep laughter, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“Would you care for a dance?” he asks, but you shake your head, before turning to look at the dancing couples in front of you again. “We both know it wouldn’t appropriate, viscount.” A long sigh leaves the man and he looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

“I am engaged to another, you know that,” you say and your breath hitches when Solomon moves a piece of your hair away from your face. You look up at him and he grins again.

“Just removing a stray piece of hair, my love,” he says but his hand lingers for a few seconds, before letting it fall to his side. You both stand and look out in the ballroom for a long while.

“Run away with me,” Solomon says and you take a sharp breath, eyes remaining on the crowd in front of you. “I have plenty of money. We could go somewhere far away, where no one knows us-“

“We can’t,” you hiss. “I have responsibilities here.”

“Be with me, be happy. I’ll give you the entire world if you ask. Just come with me,” He pleads and you can hear the strain in his voice. Your heart tightens in your chest. You let your hand fall to your side as well, brushing lightly against Solomons. Your little finger finds his and you intertwine them. You both look down at your fingers before your eyes find each other again.

—

You watch the flames gathering beneath your feet and scrunch your nose with contempt. The priest in front of you is yelling some nonsense about ridding the world of evil, one witch at a time. You look around the crowd, seeing blurred faces through the smoke in the crowd. One face stands completely clear, with white hair, blue eyes and a charming grin, staring directly at you. 

You blink. The heat under you seems to dissipate, and the priest's words become muffled. "There you are. I've been looking for you, my love," he says and you feel a rush of familiarity in his words. The flames are licking at your knees now, but they're caressing your skin instead of burning you. It tickles. 

"So, are you gonna save me or what?" you ask and smile at him. You should probably be horrified, scared out of your mind. You should probably also be screaming out in pain, but you feel none of those things. Solomon scoffs and steps onto the platform. Several people gasp in surprise and reach for him, but it's like they're unable to touch him. 

He's standing directly in front of you now and wraps his arms around you to pull at the robes tying you to the stake. They fall off the second he touches them and you look at your wrists, massaging the sore skin. 

“I was waiting for you" you say and he steps closer. "Is that so?" he asks and you nod. "You took your time," you complain and Solomon scoffs. "You're plenty capable of saving yourself," he says and you shrug. "Yeah, but I like it more when you're the one doing the saving," you purr and Solomon's hand reaches to stroke your cheek. "You're so lazy," he says, adoringly. 

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, nudging his head towards the forest. You look at the inviting green escape and homesickness swells in your chest. Your shared cabin isn’t far from here. “Yeah, let me just take care of the priest first,” you say and Solomon watches, pupils morphing into hearts, as you step towards the priest who’s now clutching his cross and screaming prayers at you. 

—

You step into the tavern, the smell of unwashed bodies and rum immediately hitting you, as you make your way towards the bar. The bartender is a burly man, with several tattoos down his arms and a big black beard. He barely glances at you before turning around. “I’m looking for-“ you begin, before the man interrupts you.

“I don’t serve pirates,” he says, pointing towards a sign, with a big fat cross over the classic pirate flag. Your brows furrow and you look around the room. Several pirates, robbers and well-known thieves are sitting about, playing cards and drinking ale.

You look back at the man. “I think you need a better pirate detector then,” you state. The bartender turns around and glares at you, walking towards you. “Listen here, you little-“

Before the situation can escalate further a handsome white-haired man steps beside you, flashing the bartender a smile. “Two beers, please,” he says, placing three big gold coins on the table. The bartender grumbles but takes the coins and places two beers in front of you.

The white-haired man pushes one beer towards you and you accept, taking a sip. “Thank you,” you say and he shrugs. “No problem,” he says.

"I've been waiting for you," You place a paper in front of him and his smile fades when he sees his face looking back at him. On top is written “Have you seen this man?” and at the bottom “Reward: £1000”

“Quite a hefty bounty on ya,” you say and smile charmingly at him. Solomon goes to move but stops when he feels the barrel of a gun in his side. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?” Solomon says and you shrug.

“So, Solomon, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” you purr and Solomon looks at the paper. “They never quite get my nose right,” he pouts. You huff and he uses your amusement to his advantage. Within a flash, he’s running towards the door with you right on his heels. You shoot towards his leg, but he narrowly avoids the bullet, hurling the door open and disappearing into the street. Several sailors send you annoyed looks, grumbling about “useless pirates”. 

You curse under your breath and follow him down a narrow street. He disappears around a corner and you follow but when you reach the corner, he’s gone. You look around before you feel an arm wrap around your waist and a cool blade against your neck. You turn your head to the side to find Solomons's blue eyes piercing through you, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips.

“Gotcha. Now how about we sit down and settle this like adults, huh?”

—

You’re pulled into your makeup room backstage and Solomon’s lips are immediately on yours. You return the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, and giggling into his mouth.

“Sol, we have to go on in five minutes, we can’t do this right now-“ you laugh, pressing several small kisses to his lips. A noise of complaint leaves Solomon and he presses you closer to him. “The fans can wait,” he whines, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Thousands of people are waiting for us,” you say and pull him away from you. You run your fingers through his hair and fix the microphone taped to his cheek that’s gone askew while you kissed.

He fixes your mic as well and strokes your cheek. A deep sigh leaves him. “Oh well. I guess I can’t keep the world’s most beloved rockstar from the stage no matter what I do,” he says and you chuckle, pressing another peck to his lips. He chases you, pressing you against the door. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you open, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and mints. “Sol,” you sigh and he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. He takes in your kiss-bitten lips and kisses your nose. 

“We still have 3 minutes, my love,” he says and kisses you again. “And I’ve read that kissing is a great vocal warmup.”

—

You stare at the tattoo parlour in front of you, the big red letters reading "Magic Ink", which you think is quite a silly name, but you know that it’s the best place in town. 

The bell rings on the door when you walk into the empty lobby. "Be right with you!" you hear someone yell from the back door and you lean over the counter instantly making yourself comfortable. 

A handsome man comes out from the back and smiles at you instantly. "Hi, my love,” he sings and you beam. You take in his tattooed arms as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him softly. “Hi, baby,” you murmur and he grins. 

“What can I do for you?” he asks and you roll your eyes. “I’d like a tattoo, thank you.” you say and he raises his brows in faux surprise. “and also, I brought lunch,” you say, holding up a small bag. 

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Solomon mutters and leads you into a room with a tattoo chair, along with another smaller chair beside it. "You're late, ya know? I've been waiting," he says and you hum, looking around the familiar tattoo room. 

The walls are covered with tattoo designs. All of them have a mystical vibe to them, portraying supernatural creatures and weird symbols. There’s a couch in the corner of the room, which you both settle in while taking out the food from the bag. “Oh, you got my favourite,” he says and you nod, handing him his sandwich. “With a disgusting amount of mayo, just how you like it,” you say and he grins, taking a big bite of the sandwich. “Thanks,” he says and you “tsk” reaching out to wipe the mayo from his face. “Gross,” you mutter and Solomon shrugs. “Only for you,”

After lunch, Solomon begins drawing out the design you both decided on last night in bed, while attentively listening to your inputs and suggestions. Once you’re satisfied he makes a stencil for you. 

"Are you nervous?" he asks and you exhale. "That easy to tell?" you ask, peering up at his blue eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. "Not really, I just have a knack for noticing that kind of thing," he says. You squint at him. "What does that even mean?" you ask and he shrugs. "I like to observe," he says. "Anyhow, how do you like this placement?" he asks while turning you towards a mirror. "Yeah I like it," you say and he nods in agreement. "Yeah, I agree. Let's do it then." 

The tattoo only takes about an hour and afterwards, he wraps it up and talks you through the aftercare. “It looks beautiful, my love," he smiles and you smile back, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "I love it, thank you.”

a/n: thanks for reading! you can find my other stuff here.

[zepskies]

As You Wish

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

AN: Here’s a little something in honor of Dean’s birthday! If you haven’t seen The Princess Bride, do yourself a favor. 🥰

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, and nothing but the fluff. (Established relationship.)

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” Dean says, right in time with the iconic swashbuckler on the screen, complete with his best approximation at a Spanish accent.

You giggle against his side, hard enough to rock both of you on the bed. When he agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

“Are you gonna quote the whole damn movie?” you ask.

Dean brandishes an imaginary sword with his fist held out.

“HELLO! My name is—”

Biting your lip, you cut him off short by playing dirty. You wrap your arm around his middle and dance your fingers across his ribs. He’d never admit it, but he’s got sensitive sides.

He flinches and laughs on reflex. “Hey, hey! That’s a foul move!”

His arm tightens around your waist while his other hand closes around your wrist. You try to grapple with him, your bare legs tangling with his pajama-clad ones, but you both know it’s a losing battle.

Dean gathers you tighter against his chest and traps your wandering hand.

Huffing another laugh, you relax again. His heart clips at a faster pace under your ear. Your hand smooths up his chest and finds its way up the back of his neck.

Dean can't help it. He lets out a contented hum when your nails give his scalp a little scratch.

For a moment, his attention drifts away from the movie and down to you. He spies the soft edge of your smile, feels your hair starting to itch against his arm, your soft curves under his hand, pressing against him.

You two don’t get these quiet days often, but he wants to make sure you get some rest. You, Sam, and Dean spent about three straight weeks in a row with back-to-back hunts, and the last one had really taken it out of you. So now, Dean’s satisfied to see you so relaxed. Happy, even.

Yeah. You really do seem to be as happy as he (secretly) feels.

Sometimes, he finds that part hard to believe. If you could want this with someone like him, then maybe…maybe he doesn’t screw up all the time.

Dean tunes back into the movie just in time for Buttercup to jump out of the window in her pretty white dress. She and Westley join Fezzik and Inigo on white horses, and the couple shares the kiss that left all the others behind.

Dean glances down at your face. He’s amused by the way you’re eating up all this sappy rom-com crap. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears. He ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“You just spring a leak over anything, don’t you?” he teases. You shove at his chest with a halfhearted hand.

“Only over the good stuff,” you retort.

He accepts that with a chuckle. When the credits start to roll down the screen, he reaches for the remote and searches for the episode you guys left off in Game of Thrones. You tap his chest.

“Hey, wanna go out to dinner tonight?” you ask. A warm smile plays on your lips. “Just you and me?”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time you two went on an honest-to-God date. No time, no privacy, always something evil on your asses…

A decision made in his mind, Dean gives you a smile back. He brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“As you wish,” he says.

AN: 😘 Hope you liked this one!

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

[daylite-writes]

Welcoming Legacy (It welcomes you) - SAGAU ft. Foul Legacy Tartaglia

Ever since you woke up in Teyvat, you’ve been… confused. The memories of your previous life fading, leaving you to wander. One thing was for certain though, the people here despised you for the face you wore. That was, until waking in the Snezhnayan wilderness after another death, a certain abyssal harbingers saves you from the cold.

cw: imposter au SAGAU shenanigans, temporary death, hyperthermia, passing out, not very yandere (but from his perspective it definitely would be), hurt/comfort, Capitano cameo! Written to be x reader ish, but it’s vague and ur kinda cold so can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Will be tagging as both lemme know if it shouldn’t be.

1.5k words

~~~

It’s almost funny, you think, how he’s the one who reconsized you first.

No. Not recognised. This was the first time you’d met any of them. The vision holders, the ‘characters’ that you once fawned over and held very dear. They wouldn’t know your name, your face—except for the fact they did. And they hated you for it. “Impersonator”, “Heretic”, “Damned”, “Witch.”

They all looked at you as if you’d committed a grave crime. A slight that could not be forgiven. But how could you have? You were given this name, and born with this face.

And yet you were hunted. And yet you were killed. Arrow through the heart, spear through the back, claymore to the ribs. The pain was unbearable, but death wasn’t the end. Each time you closed your eyes, hoping for an end to the nightmare, you awoke somewhere new.

You recognized the landscape from hours spent playing the game, and quickly learned to avoid settlements, villages, and most importantly, vision holders. The pain of death was too much, leaving your body trembling with sobs and quietly pleading to whatever force put you on Teyvat to just let you go home.

After the fourth death—at the hands of an electro charged spear, courtesy of a certain mahamantra—you woke up, shaking uncontrollably. Only this time, not from phantom pains or the emotional toll of death. This time, is was due to a heavy, bone deep, unnatural cold.

Snezhnaya.

Of course it had to be Snezhnaya.

You whimpered, cursing your luck. This would be a slow, painful death if you couldn’t find shelter and fast.

Stumbling to your feet—bare, the clothes that stayed with you after death did not include them—you looked around pitifully. A snowy forest. Beautiful, but useless, and hard to see far in. You’d never been to Snezhnaya in game either, so there was no way you’d be able to find shelter. Pitifully, you dragged yourself under a tree, curling into yourself under the pine’s branches, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful. Achingly, you let your eyes close, waiting for the next place.

Only, before the cold took you, a rumbling call broke through the tranquil silence of the forest.

Blearily, you opened your eyes. Some kind of beast? It wasn’t like you were familiar with the creatures of Snezhnaya. But it didn’t sound like a normal enemy monster. It was sad, keening… longing.

It called out again. You… would rather die quickly to a beast than slowly to hypothermia, you supposed.

“Here,” you called out weakly. You clicked your tongue a few times, as if luring in a cat. “Come on.”

You laughed slightly. Had delusion from hypothermia set in so quickly? You were making kissy noises at the monster in the forest. Luring in your death with soft sweet noises.

The forest was still for a moment. And then it wasn’t.

Snow crunched underfoot of what was undoubtedly a large creature. You were pretty sure you heard the waning bend of pine trees as it shoved pass.

Was this a mistake? Probably. You were too cold to care. Maybe its claws would be warm as it tore you apart. Ha. Wouldn’t that be nice?

At some point your eyes had slipped closed again, but it was close now. You could hear it. So close—you waited for the sink of claws into your flesh—

It came to a stop in front of you, inches away, maybe, if the warm breath on your skin was any indication.

In a raspy, warbling tone, it spoke English. “Creator?”

What?

You opened your eyes again, and gasped as you saw… Tartaglia? No, not him, exactly. But, his Foul Legacy. The rough plates of armor adorning his limbs, the red mask with a singular clouded pearl eye in the center, the sheer size of him.

“Ajax?” You mumbled.

“Creator!” It said again, rough, desperate, as if it had a throat not made for speaking.

“Hi.” You said simply, before your eyes slipped closed.

~

Warmth.

There was warmth.

A lot of warmth.

Fire.

You sighed, not daring to open your eyes for fear it might disappear. That you might still be laying in the snow, your blood crystallizing in your veins.

A smooth, clawed hand cupped your cheek, then your jaw, tilting your head back. Was this when the pain would come? You stirred a bit, but little nothing happened. The thing holding you sighed, gently pressing the sides of your cheek to open your jaw. What? What was happening? You hardly had time to panic before something warm was poured into your mouth, and his inhuman hand latched around your mouth to keep it shut.

You whimpered, eyes still closed—gods you really didn’t want to open them. You really couldn’t mentally confront what was happening. For now, it needed to stay invisible, it needed to not be real—as the liquid sat in your mouth. You refused to swallow, but it tasted like broth? Was it broth? You decided you didn’t care, not so long as you were being forced to drink—

That was, until its other hand came up and began to massage your throat. You sputtered, the rough finger pads gently rubbing against your throat forcing you to swallow after a moment.

It’s… nice. Warm but not hot, and definitely just some sort of broth now that you think about it. The next time the edge of a bowl is set against your lips, you drink of your own volition.

Whatever was caring for you seemed happy, as its rumbling chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr, seemed to indicate. Honestly, you were too, going slack against it, hiding your face in what you think is it’s neck, lined with a mane of fur, as it rubbed circles into your scars. The old aches of death soothing under its fingerpads.

Sleep came easy.

~

The next time you woke up, you weren’t so afraid to open your eyes.

Strangely calm, you didn’t even jump at the sight in front of you.

Probably seven feet tall, with thick, armored plates running up his body, a mix of purples, blues, blacks and reds coloring his body. His mask was a dull red, and an abyssal blue, almost jewel like eye was set in the center.

Foul legacy. Tartaglia’s abyssal form. This was Childe, no—

“Ajax?”

He practically melted, wrapping around you at the raspy croak of his own name.

You sighed, snuggling into the small fur mane around his neck.

“What are… what are you doing here?” Wasn’t he out of the country? You weren’t sure what point in the story you arrived during, but none of them had him in his homeland for long. “Isn’t being in that form for too long dangerous?”

He smiled. Well, ‘smile’ was a bad term. He curled back his lips and opened his plated maw, one you didn’t know he had. It was hidden among the red armor of his mask, which you were now convinced were just, ya know, his face when in foul legacy. His maw, black and almost a void inside, lined with row after row of sharp, shark-like teeth. He yawned, wide, before snapping his mouth shut with a little clack.

You couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled up from your throat.

He seemed to like that, purring as he set his chin atop your head.

Your giggle faded away, and your face fell. You gave a soft sigh, body aching slightly. With a quiet voice, you could help but ask what’d been gnawing at you since you woke.

“Why… Why are you helping me?”

“Because the ones who hurt you are fools.”

That was not Ajax.

You turned your head, towards the entrance of the cave Ajax had holed the two of you up in.

When you saw who it was, you shied into the arms of Foul Legacy, who was happy enough to wrap his arms around you.

Capitano’s intimidating figure blocked the entrance of the cave, mask glinting in the fire light.

“I apologize for the late arrival, I was combing the west side of the valley for you. Tartaglia seemed to find you first.”

“I…” What?

Capitano stepped deeper into the cave, his steps were confident, but the closer he got, he lowered his head. It almost looked like a sign of respect.

A mere few strides away, he reached a hand out—to greet you? Touch you? You were sure, as before he could do anything, Ajax dragged you closer and responded to Capitano with a guttural growl.

“Quiet, eleventh.” Capitano commanded. Despite his unhappiness, Ajax obliged, letting Capitano closer.

A cold metal gauntlet approached your face slowly, before cupping your face. Gently, it tilted your jaw up, forcing you to meet the void of his mask.

You didn’t know that when the firelight hit your irises, they glittered with constellations, or that the veins barely visible against the white of your eyes were gold.

What you did see through, was the way his heavy shoulders dropped, and you heard a reverent sigh of relief. He dipped his head lower, and you swore crystal blue eyes blinked slowly down at you.

“Welcome to the waking world, dear Creator. Celestia has kept you asleep and unseeing for far too long.”

~~~

Omg this had so much more but the plot got out of hand so I just took the first bits and left the rest out. TECHNICALLY there’s lord and explanations but I know I’d never finish a cohesive plot so here we are! My first attempt as SAGAU!

Gonna update my ask specifics soon as well as answer one!

ALSO IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS SOULMATE AU SCARA FIC WHERE HE FINDS READER LIKE TIED OUT AS A SACRIFICE AND FINDS OUT SHES HIS SOULMATE AND HE LIKE BRINGS HER ALONG WITH HIM AND SHE IS LIKE SICK FROM THE COLD AND HES ALL WORRIED AND LIKE “FORGET THEM THEY BTRAYED TOU” AND I CANT FIND IT AGAINNN AAAA anyways if you’ve read it and know pls tell me

[beanthesprout]

Sweet Angel

Sub!Castiel x soft dom!afab reader

Castiel is feeling things he's never felt before. Things he thought he shouldn't feel as an angel. And you're more than happy to help him explore

Warnings: marking, oral sex (m recieving), pentrative sex, p in v, unprotected sex

All the boys were supposed to be out today. That's what they'd told you. Sam and Dean had taken Jack out on a hunt, and Cas was off with Bobby doing research.

You loved having the bunker to yourself. It gave you the opportunity to be more...free with your clothing choices. You loved and trusted your boys but you weren't keen on the idea of them seeing you walk around the way you were right now.

Panties and a t-shirt. No bra. And by God was it comfortable. No one was supposed to be back until the next morning, so for now you were relishing having the place to yourself.

You were wandering out of the kitchen with a beer, wanting to go back to the library to continue reading that book on witches you'd found. You were not expecting to see Castiel standing in the middle of the library, jaw dropped and face bright red as he saw you walk in.

"Oh fuck."

Cas just stared, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but he just couldn't get the words out. Your embarrassment quickly turned to amusement.

Your eyes drifted down to see that he seemed to have a bit of a problem in his pants.

"You doin alright angel?"

He raised his hands to rub his face and turn away.

"I'm sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you to have so little clothes on."

"You're more flustered than I am." You snickered.

He stayed turned away from you and you could see he was trying to adjust his pants. You set your beer on top of a bookcase and walked up behind him to lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear.

"You having some trouble there angel?"

You heard his breath hitch in his throat at your low sultry tone and he turns his head to look at you with wide eyes.

"I've never-I dont..." His gruff voice was full of confusion. You looked down to see him trying to cover himself with his trenchant.

"I can take care of it for you." You offered sweetly.

"How?"

You grinned and went around to face him and gently pushed him backwards so he stumbled into a chair.

He sat there, legs spread and wide eyed. His face covered in shock and nervousness. You kneeled in front of him and gently ran your fingers up and down the tops of his thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Will you let me show you just how pleasurable it is to have a human body?"

Cas hesitated, his eyes searching your own for a moment before nodding.

"I need words sweetheart."

"Yes. Yes please."

A satisfied smile spread over your face as you let your hands slide down to glide over his inner thighs. He shivered as your touch went higher and higher.

Slowly you reached up to undo his belt and slowly tugged his pants down, murmuring at him to lift his hips for you, which he did immediately.

He watched you closely as you kissed up his thighs, letting out a gasp when you bit down on the soft skin of his inner thigh. You ran your tongue over the bite mark soothingly. You turned your attention to his other thigh, leaving bites and hickies all the way up.

"So sensitive." You murmured before sucking another hickey onto his thigh. Cas groaned loudly, his hands gripping tightly at the arm rests of his chair.

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his tip straining against his boxers. He sucked in a harsh breath at the action.

You gently eased him out of his underwear, enamored with the way his cock pulled free.

He whimpered when he felt your breath against it, watching intently as you licked a stripe from base to tip. He let out a strangled groan as you took the tip into his mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

You slowly took more of him into your mouth, watching his face contort with pleasure and his breath quicken.

You began bobbing your head as you took more and more of him in, eventually feeling him hit the back of your throat. He began messily thrusting into your mouth, the feelings overtaking him.

You reached up to guide his hand to your head and he immediately gripped your hair to start pushing you down on his cock. You choked a bit at first but quickly adjusted to his pace. His head lolled back as moans and groans loudly.

It didn't take long before his hips started to stutter and he tried to press you further onto his cock despite your face already being buried in his curly thick hair.

After a few more thrusts he finally emptied into your mouth, whimpering and moaning. You swallowed before gently pulling off.

Cas was panting heavily staring up at the ceiling, slowly he lowered his head to look down at you.

"You like that angel?" You grinned proudly.

"That was...unlike anything I've ever experienced."

You pressed a soft kiss to his thigh before reaching to pull his underwear back on, but he grabbed his wrists to stop you.

"What about you?"

"You don't need to worry about me sweetheart."

"I want you to feel it too." His voice was gruff, tone full of want. His eyes were intent and his cheeks were still flushed. You softened, it was sweet of him.

You stood up and leaned in to kiss him, which he happily accepted. It didn't take long until your tongue was in his mouth, he sighed at the feeling. His lips moved against yours, he was inexperienced but he was still trying. And you found it adorable.

He reached his hands up to hesitantly rest on your waist and you moved to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist. He made a small noise of surprise but continued kissing you hungrily.

You gently started to grind your hips against his, and the simple action had him moaning again and rolling his hips up into you. You grinding against him with your soaked panties was enough to make him feel that desperation and need all over again.

You'd started moaning yourself, the friction was immensely pleasurable, especially as you felt him grow hard again. God it was delicious.

You pulled back and started kissing his neck, sucking hickies onto his skin as you ran your fingers through his hair. You started to grind harder against him, enjoying the sweet breathy moans it pulled from him.

He knew he sounded pathetic, absolutely drunk on you despite being a warrior of heaven. But he really didn't care. The only thing he cared about was you and the things you were making him feel in that moment.

"More. Need more." He rasped out.

"Oh my sweet angel. I'll give you more." You whispered in his ear before nibbling his earlobe. He moaned in response, his hands tightening his grip on your waist.

You tugged your panties to the side and gently guided him to your entrance before sinking down onto him, gasping at the feeling. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you were certain there would be bruises.

You settled fully onto him, hands running through his hair.

"This what you were wanting Cas?" Your tone was teasing.

"God yes." He groaned.

Slowly you started to move on him, rolling your hips, finding the tempo that'd have both of you moaning and stuttering incoherently. His hands tugged your shirt off and he toyed with your breasts, pinching at your nipples and groping you.

And God was it good. He dragged against you in a way you'd never experienced before, and the way you fluttered and clenched around him had him crying out into your shoulder.

Over and over you murmured words of praise, encouraging him as he desperately fucked up into you.

It really didn't take long to reach your climax, clamping down on him as you cried out into his shoulder. He desperately kept going, trying his best not to release until you'd completely finished. And when you'd fallen limp against him he thrust into you a few more times before you felt heat fill you.

You both sat there for a few moments, panting as you held onto each other. Slowly you eased yourself off of him.

"Can you get me a wet washcloth please?"

He grunted and nodded, maneuvering you so you were sitting in the chair. He stood and pulled up his pants before walking off and coming back with a warm wet washcloth and kneeled down to clean you up. He froze though, enamored with the way his cum was dripling out of you.

"Cas?"

Your voice pulled him out of his stupor and he stuttered an apology before gently cleaning you up and helping you put your shirt on.

When he was done you stood up unsteady and he quickly moved to pick you up and carry you to your room.

"This isn't necessary." You chuckled.

"Of course it is." His tone made it clear there was no argument to be made.

"Well thank you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and giggled when he blushed.

He set you down on your bed, bringing you a new pair of underwear.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to thank me," you chuckled, "I enjoyed it too."

"I just mean, thank you for giving me such a pleasurable experience. It's one I will never forget. And...I glad it was with you."

You practically melted at his words and hugged him from behind, "Let me know if you ever want to do it again."

He nodded in response.

You had a feeling he'd be coming to your room a lot more frequently.

[jikothemartian-z]

@yellowcephalopod

Spongebob  and Vera

Hope you guys like it!

[sprout-fics]

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 1

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 3.5k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! Konig, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, Price x Reader if you squint, F! Reader, Me making up lore for this series as I go Warnings: Mentioned gore and offscreen death A/N: Part 1 of a limited series with a unique take on a classic fairytale!

Things started changing after the October moon.

Small things at first. Farmers at the edge of the village started noticing their stables were disturbed overnight. Loose hay bales in the lofts, livestock skittish and nervous. Hunters reported deer and other game being hard to find. The animals in the forest started becoming scarce, quiet, as if the woods themselves were trying to silence themselves. These woods, the ones you knew, seemed to be harboring a horrible secret.

Soon it was the storehouses, the smoked meats and harvest tucked away from the brutal winter months being raided. You heard rumors in the village square of drifters, thieves that were lurking in the forest and planning to raid your little town.

Then the sightings began.

"Bigger than a stray dog." The village gossip had whispered to you. "By the northern pastures. Dark as night, gleaming eyes."

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes. A monster then, of course. It made sense in a little village like yours that people would instantly try and exaggerate, try to make their story seem grander than it was. Anything to break up the monotony of daily life in the countryside. Really, the thing as likely nothing more than a lone wolf, in search of a pack to join and wandered far beyond the realms of the ancient Black Forest to where it belonged.

Rumors began to fly. The thing was seen stalking sheep at sunset, when fog rolled through the glades and obscured shapes dancing at the edge of the woods. At midnight a hunter saw it dance beyond his lantern as he hiked to his cottage. A guard dog barked at a strange shadow in the middle of the night. A young girl saw it pause and look back at her, a bloodied hare hanging limp from its gleaming jaws.

You paid it no mind. You knew better by now than to indulge in fairytales. The wolf was an uncommon sight in these lands, but not entirely unusual. It wasn’t some strange omen as your neighbors had made it out to be, spooked by the low, golden, full moon on Hallows Eve. Soon enough the thing, the wolf, would migrate, move on from the area around the village and into the hills, and soon your neighbors would forget such a thing ever existed.

You thought that, at least, until one day a farmer's son was found dead at dusk, claw marks ripped through his chest and blood seeping into the dark, untendered soil upon which he lay.

A werewolf.

Or so they said, as you hovered with several other village girls outside the door of the tavern, where the village elders gathered in deep discussion. Your scarlet cloak did little to ward off the chill of oncoming frost, the shudder of dread at the thing that stalked the periphery of the village. The warm lantern light filtered through the cracks where you and the other young women gathered, casting in slants across your vision as the others around you hushed, pressing their ears flat so as to listen to the words of the wiser inside.

"We need to hunt it down."

"Form a group."

"But then who will watch the livestock?"

"The woods are too vast."

"It will pick us off like flies."

Through the cracks you could see her, Katherine. Known only as 'Laswell' by many, hands folded under her chin, grey eyes hard in contemplation. Her cloak hung heavy from her shoulders, muddied at the hem from her trek through the woods. Yet despite her journey she had arrived untouched, without so much as a scratch upon her. The others eyed her suspiciously for that, her strange immunity to the wolf that stalked the forest.

She was an interesting character, a woman who seemed to know far more than she let on. You once heard tales from a traveler of a goddess from a far land, grey eyed and wise, an owl perched on her shoulder as a sign of wisdom.

“Athena.” He had said in utter wonder, eyes blue like the Adriatic Sea. Yet where he described a woman with a plumed helmet draped in linen robes and holding a shield, you only saw Laswell with her grey, muted dresses and twinkling, knowing eyes. The others seemed to be suspicious of her knowledge, her craft, and yet now they turned to her for the very same, silent as she contemplated all she had heard. Yet unlike them you looked upon her with reverence, a wide, keen gaze that took in the rise of her chest as she raised her head, staring forward at the others.

"We shall call the Witchers."

The Witchers.

Monster hunters. You thought they were the stuff of legend, mercenaries who roamed the land in search of powerful prey, hunting down goblins and ghouls and creatures of the night. Born and raised by the silver blade, swift, cunning, strong, nearly invincible. The closest thing to a demi-god you'd ever heard of.

You shouldn't have been surprised Kate knew of them, with her glinting eyes and many mysterious secrets. The wise woman, they called her, the one who lived on the other side of the woods all by herself, and yet seemed to know more than the rest of the elders combined. It turned out Kate not only knew of the Witchers, but how to contact them.

Cost, she said, was no concern. For she knew the captain, an old friend, one who owed her a debt. If she called him, he would come.

And come he did, before the next moon.

You were in the village square when they arrived. There's chatter and then the sound of hooves, and the sudden motion of their arrival made the scarlet hem of your cape flutter in the breeze. On black horses who chuffed at the frigid autumn air, their withers looming over your height, a man with a beard, a cap and a grim gleam in his eyes stared down at you, flanked by three other riders. Brawny men, scarred, serious, emanating danger from their mere presence. You stare up at them in a mix of apprehension and awe, feeling the air shift around you, whisper a warning you don’t heed.

"We were summoned by Laswell." The man with the cap tells you with no introductions, not that any are needed. You know from the mere sight of them who the men are, with their ink dyed cloaks and silver blades, the dulled armor glinting in the scant afternoon sunlight. Soldiers, warriors, of a different breed. Ones who had earned their titles from years spent seeping their swords in black blood.

"On the other side of the forest." You reply to him unflinchingly, refusing to back down from his unwavering stare.

"Guide us." Is all he supplies in return, offering a single leather gloved palm down to your form. You eye it suspiciously, but at last place your smaller palm in his. With a jump and a hoist, you find yourself sat behind him as his steed nickers and shifts uncertainly under you. You clutch at his rider's cloak nervously for a moment, at which point a coy glance is spared your way, and you settle yourself, offering only a small, indignant silence in return.

"Go on then, Rotes Mädchen." Price encourages gruffly. "Lead us to our summoner."

You wonder then, briefly, if the summoner he mentions truly is a witch of the woods as he seems to suggest.

There's no time to ponder upon it, for as soon as you point Price urges his steed onwards and you are both off down the woodland paths, followed quickly behind by his three men. You surrender yourself to wrapping your arms around his middle in an effort to not fall off, the bumps and grooves of his armor digging into your skin as the troop rides through the forest fog and onwards to Kate's secluded home.

You arrive just as the sun sets. Mist clings to the clearing of the old mill where Laswell lives, shadows whispering at the edges of trees and the canopy growing dark with fading light. The ride is shorter than you expected, but by the end of your journey you feel your rump grow tender with the constant cantering pace that the captain urged his horse upon.

So you're surprised then, when Price slides down off his gelding and offers his hands to you, firmly holding you as your feet slide back to earth. It's a chivalrous gesture, one you thought was beyond a gruff, grim soldier such as the captain. Yet it is with surprising care that he allows you to descend from the saddle, straighten you as your feet wobble on earth.

Laswell greets you all at her doorstep, her thread picked shawl fluttering in the breeze as she ushers you all inwards without so much as a word. There's hardly any greetings, not until you are all settled close to her hearth, which glows bright and welcoming in the growing cold.

You gaze at the men around you from where you perch atop a stool, poking at the tender, licking flames. Body half turned away from them, you regard the strangers out of the corner of your eyes, taking in their dark cloaks and sheathed blades, the glint of their dulled, iron armor as it reflects the fire. There's an uneasy silence that hangs over the room, filled only by the shuffle of boots and low murmur of voices as Laswell vanishes into the direction of her bedroom.

When she emerges at last, there's a hushed, reverent silence that washes over the group, as if she commands attention with her mere presence. There's few words exchanged as she withdraws something small enough to fit into a palm, offers it to the man called Price. You catch a glimpse of it as it passes hands. A tuft of hair carefully wrapped in a cloth, something that looks like it belongs to an animal- dark, coarse, matted with blood.

Price turns it over in his hands, hums a rough, displeased sound.

"This happened during the half-moon?" He asks, voice a grinding sound in his chest, like smoke caught in a chimney.

"I know the signs, John." Kate replies, quieter, firm, grave. "I wouldn't have called you here otherwise."

You watch then, as Price's eyes slide from your friend to you. A silent question. A warning.

Kate only shakes her head. "She's safe." She tells him, and then turns to you herself. Two of the men instantly step aside to make way for her as she paces over, gently takes both your hands in hers to lift you from your chair.

"She picks herbs for me in the forest." Kate explains, voice gentler now as she's closer to you. "Brings me things from the village. She's a friend."

You turn your gaze from Kate, from her steel-eyed grey stare to the four men before you, shifting anxiously on your feet.

"Hello." You offer simply, voice quiet.

"That would explain the red cloak." The one with the quiver strapped to his back chuffs after a moment from where he sits on his chair, across the table. He nods at the cape that drapes behind you. "So hunters can spot you, right?"

You nod, swallowing and feeling your throat go dry as four witchers suddenly fix their gazes onto you. Their eyes rake over your form, and you suddenly feel as if their prey is not monsters, but you.

It's the man with the strange haircut that steps forward first, offering his hand with a grin that tugs to one side of his face.

"John." He tells you with an accent you can't place as you take his gloved hand in yours. "You can call me Soap."

What kind of name is that? You wonder silently and offer only your name in reply. His smirk broadens, and he turns to reveal his fellows.

"That archer there is Gaz." Soap tells you, and said man gives you a friendly, gentle wave from where he sits, face tugging into a smile. "But you can call him ‘dunderheid’ for the time he's spent falling out of trees."

"Twice." Gaz seethes, rubbing at his brow with mild irritation. "Only ever twice."

You hide a small laugh behind your hand, and then follow Soap's gaze to a figure standing in the dark corner of the room, freezing as your eyes land upon him.

A bone white mask. A curved beak. A pitch-dark stare that bores into your marrow.

Cold dread settles over your limbs, and you take an instinctive step back, closer to Kate to seek reassurance from the huge, looming stranger that occupies the shadows of the room.

A Poltergeist. Your mind whispers in horror.

Kate gently brushes her hand across your shoulder, and your eyes dart from her to the strange figure. Yet her smile is kind, gentle in the face of the phantom.

"Ah-" Soap supplies. "That's Ghost." He briefly turns to shoot the man a withering stare, to which the phantom only shrugs nonchalantly, as if unconcerned or perhaps bemused by your apprehension.

"Sorry, he's an odd fellow. Dannea mean you any harm. Spooks the hell out of us sometimes too."

You relax a little at Soap's jovial tone, shoulders going slack and a breath releasing from your chest. Ghost catches your eyes again, offers a silent, respectful nod before mercifully redirecting his stare elsewhere.

"-And of course, you've met our brave captain." Soap finishes, and you lift your eyes to Price, who leans near the door. You lock eyes from across the room, and blink at the scrutinizing weight of his stare. You wonder if he's been looking at you like that the whole time. Heavy. Fixated. Unwavering. Yet in this moment he gives you a slow, respectful nod, and as he raises his head his eyes take you in from the bottom up, coming once more to rest on your face.

"Kate." He says, and it isn't until a moment later that he breaks his stare with you. "We should discuss details. We only have two weeks before the next moon. if we don't hunt down the thing before then..." He trails off, and in the silence, the fire crackles, allowing your mind to fill in the void with ruinous images of destruction.

Kate nods, but instead of moving to discuss the issue at hand she turns to the hearth, reaches for the pot hanging above the fire.

"We shall." She declares with a sigh, and the lid comes way to reveal a simmering stew. "But first you shall all eat, and bathe. You smell like horse manure."

---

It's well past dark by the time you rise to leave. The evening is spent crowded around Kate's table, Gaz and Soap bumping elbows and exchanging good-natured insults with the occasional comment from Price and Kate. They push each other aside to regale you with stories of their hunts, of times spent in distant corners of the kingdoms pursuing creatures you couldn't dare to imagine. After the meal is over Price sits back in his chair and withdraws a pipe, stuffs it with tobacco and idly listens to the conversation. You watch him from the corner of your eyes, eyes tracing the smoke that billows past his lips like dragon’s breath.

Kate watches on with a smile. There's a fondness in her eyes you rarely see. It takes you a moment to realize she regards these men as family, the younger of them as her sons, of their captain as a friend, an ally. There's a history there you don't fully recognize, one you want to pull on the thread of and watch it unravel. Yet you know it's far too soon. There’s many things you’ve yet to learn about your friend, and this secret among these will only be revealed with the passage of time.

There's questions you want to ask, things you thirst to know. How does Kate know these men? Why do they turn to her with such reverence and respect? Why does the captain trust her word with few, if any questions? Just how much does Kate know for these men to come to her aid so quickly?

Such things will have to wait, for you yawn and rise to reach for your cloak. You pause to offer a brief goodnight to the men at the table, who in turn offer theirs. Yet before you make it to the door there's a hand that settles gently on the handle before you can touch it.

"Allow me." A smoky voice grumbles at you, and you turn into the eyes of Price, who tilts his head down at you to better regard your blinking, wide-eyed expression.

"The woods are dangerous, love." He murmurs low between the two of you, words laden with caution. "Especially now, at night."

Especially for a woman like you.

Normally, you'd excuse yourself, tell him you know the woods like the back of your hand. There is nothing within them you aren't familiar with. Every rise and dip of the gulches, every hollow and rotting oak tree- they are mapped within your mind. The woods raised you, kept you safe. They won't betray you, not even to a monster.

Yet you allow yourself to be escorted anyways, deciding not to test your trust of the forest in the face of a creature of the night. Price helps you onto his horse before rising himself, and rather than canter in the direction of town he chooses instead to walk quietly so you can listen to the owl in the trees, the rustle of foxes in the underbrush.

You talk. Quiet conversation. Words not meant to disturb the sanctity of the forest at the midnight hour. You ask Price about his men, how he met them, learn more about the strange hunters who have entered your village. He tells you about how he began as an inquisitor, hunting witches, before he met Kate. He tells you how she helped him save Ghost from a cult, how they weren't soon enough, and now the man is forced to bear a curse that has left his face a horrifying scar of itself. He tells you how he oversaw Soap and Gaz's training, saw them find their best skills and hone them until they themselves were living weapons.

You listen to the quiet but sure pride in his voice as he tell you of his men, of the things they've done. You leech warmth from his back as the road passes under you, form rocking atop his horse, head nodding downwards as fatigue begins to overtake you.

Then, down the path, a branch snaps.

It sounds like the impact of an axe against wood, ringing sharply out into the forest. Your head shoots up immediately, arms clinging tighter to Price's back as he too stiffens, voice cutting into silence as you both listen.

A rustle.

You feel your heart beat at your chest like a tiny, trapped bird, fluttering and frantic as you peer past Price-

-and see the huge, mammoth shadow hiding in the mist.

Taller than you both atop Price’s draft horse, a silhouette that seems to blot out the light of the moon itself. Dark, coarse fur the same as Kate’s relic, and the smell- of something wild, untamed, of rotting carrion and a thing that has no place in the forest you called home.

You freeze, feeling the icy grip of dread wash over you, pinned beneath the stare of glowing, yellow eyes that latch onto your form huddled behind the witcher in front of you.

A growl.

Price's horse whinnies then, shrill as it rears in the face of the strange shadow. You scream just as loud as you nearly lose your balance, gripping tightly to the captain as you begin to slide backwards in the saddle.

"Hold tight!" Price bellows at you as his steed comes down, hooves beating against the forest path. Within moments you and Price are bolting down the path atop his horse, hooves thundering into the night as you wrap your arms securely around his middle. You shake, clutching onto him with a bruising grip, eyes glassy as your mind replays the image of what you've seen.

Taller than any man, a huge, lumbering thing. Its arms too long, ears standing atop its furry head, huge spine hunched forward as a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes gaze at you from the trees. Fangs snarl at you in the confines of your mind, and you feel yourself caught between yellowed teeth as the thing crunches down in a killing blow. You think for a moment you hear the sounds of it giving chase above the rapid echo of your own terror, and despite yourself you venture a gaze behind you as Price’s horse thunders down the misty midnight path towards the safety of the village.

You see just a glimpse of it from beyond your fluttering red cape, a shadow that dwarfs your thoughts, a gaze that fixates on you from afar, seeming to promise ‘Soon, little maiden. Soon.’

A werewolf.

Taglist: (If you'd like to be tagged in future updates please REBLOG this post)

@writeforfandoms @zwiiicnziiix @soapskneebrace

[incorrect-slaytheprincess]

coffee shop au where shifty decides to follow the flock of crow (the voices) that frequent her cafe only to discover that they've only been stealing food to feed their big giant bird creature friend (the long quiet) who can't get out of the sewers to forage for himself.

the cafe is cabin in the woods themed and the vessels are shifty's baristas, with the exception of the beast, who is just a little sphinx cat and the cafe mascot. damsel and prisoner are twins and damsel is always getting distracted from her work by smitten, who seranades her to get more bagel chunks. the witch and the adversary jointly like to spit in rude people's coffee. like the beast, the tower is also not a barista but a business woman who frequents the cafe because it's right across from her building.

the whole stealing food from the cabin cafe was the hero's idea. to his chagrin, contrarian likes wandering around everywhere but the cafe, stealing shiny buttons and stray dollar bills. the hunted always ends up fighting the beast for scraps. the cold brings home roadkill. the stubborn is in an ongoing war with the pigeons.

[ghouljams]

Is fae könig actually a fae? Something you wrote made it seem like he isn't and just pretends he is to most of the population

That's pretty accurate actually.

König is what I have previously called "proto-fae" he's the first draft, the first story that humans started to tell, the oldest fear that there is: "there's a predator in the woods, it's big and bloodthirsty, and will use every manner of trickery to eat you alive." He's the legs of baba yaga's hut. He's the howling on the wind. He's the glowing eyes you dismiss as fireflies because to think otherwise...

The way fae society works in my au the fae consider most monsters to be their kin, but König is like a distant ancestor stepped out of fossil records. He's the uncanny Valley of fae. He pretends he's one of them, but he's closer to one of the fae's gods. He makes a good showing of playing fae, it's only old fae like Price that clock him. Even Witch is just guessing at what he is, she can feel the threat in her blood, some long long dead ancestor shaking at the sight of a creature they thought only existed to scare children away from wandering off the path, but she assumes he's just a powerful fae.

Honestly I think this makes the fact that Ghost routinely bullies König much more fun. Imagine you bump into God at the store and your partner immediately starts roasting them. Similarly this is why I think it's funny when Liebling is mean to him. König knows that he once held the continent in fear of his hunt, but liebling is rolling up a newspaper to bap his nose like he's a misbehaving dog.

[desi2go]

Moonlight

pairing: werewolf Minho x vampire reader

warnings: fluff

request: I think it would be so cute to have like Minho have the whole “I hate everyone but you” kinda vibe and the reader is just a social butterfly who talks to all mythical beings. Would love a cute fic on this (even better with a skz pack meeting vampire!reader)

author's note: Thank you for my first request! Loved writing it 🫶🏼 and I hope you enjoy it as well

Mystical creatures weren't something uncommon in your world. Since the beginning of time there were documents, statues and other thing that showed evidence that not only humans wandered around the earth. These creatures mostly hid and disguised as humans. The most common species were werewolves and vampires.

And you never thought that especially you would meet so many different creatures. Let alone, turn into one. You were born 1975 and lived a rather normal life. But suddenly that changed when you turned 23 years old. You were still in college and walked home after the last lesson for the day in the late afternoon to your small apartment.

It were only 300 metres from the campus to your home, the sun had already sunk, and yet you met a creature right in front of your front door. The person didn't even look human, the dark nearly hiding it's appearance completely.

But you heard the whimpers of a woman. She must have been forced into the corner and the creature towered over her.

"Hey! Let her go!" You exclaimed and drew the attention of the thing to you. The street light lighted the face and it was a man, a vampire. His blood stained lips crooked into a smile, showing his sharp fangs. "Who are you, little one? Do you wanna play the hero?" His voice was raspy and his yellow eyes never left your body.

He let the woman down, she tumbled but catched herself and ran away as quick as possible. "You look stunning, dear. You're too pretty to be a blood bar, right?" He purrs, with a great speed, his body crashed against yours, forcing you to fall backwards to the ground.

His fangs pierced your skin and a scream escaped you. He chuckled and retracted his fangs. "Sorry dear. Needed to taste you" then, he bit in his own wrist and pressed it against your lips, forcing you to open your mouth so that you could feel the cold metallic blood on your tongue. Unsuccessful, you tried pushing him away from you.

You felt a mingle there, where his fangs broke your skin and the pain eased away.

He then pulled his arm away, brushing the remaining blood from his wrist, the wound already closing. " Good night dear" he whispered into your ear and before you could process that, he grabbed your neck and everything faded to black.

⛧☯⛧

The following months were hard for you. Being a vampire was totally different from being human. When you woke up the day after that man gave you his blood, everything hurt in you, the sun made your skin itch and you quickly ran into your apartment since your skin was already lightly burned.

You had been shocked when you catched a glimpse on your bright yellow eyes in the mirror and some of your teeth were sharper than usual, forming your fangs.

The blood lust was a torture and you couldn't even be in the near of a human. But fortunately, you crossed path with a witch that teaches you how to control yourself whenever humans are near you. She helped you to learn how to hunt animals so that you don't need human blood. With that help, you could finally complete your college.

After your graduation, you packed your things and moved to the rim of the city. That way, you where near the witches home and could easily hunt animals due to the fields and the forest at your place. It was a small house that you bought from your savings but it felt like you could finally be yourself there.

Years passed. Well, 20 years to be exact. You still lived in that house. But you don't live alone anymore. Five years ago, you crossed path with a young witch, Arin, she was just 18 years old. You found her on the streets after her parents kicked her out because they were afraid by her magic.

The old witch that helped you a long time ago, told you how you could identify if a person is a mystical creature or a human so that as soon as you layed eyes on Arin, you knew that you needed to help her. Just like the old witch did.

You took her home and introduced her to the old woman. With her help she could finally understand how her powers worked.

Since then, you became a shelter for mystical creatures. And you loved to help them.

⛧☯⛧

The forest was quiet, no voice could be heard. The full moon stood high in the night sky and bathed the forest in a silvery light. A cold wind blew through the trees. You loved to hunt in the night. After all, you were a vampire. The old witch crafted a ring so that you could go into the sun but hunting was more fun in the depth of the night.

Soundless, you sneaked up to a rabbit. Then, a twig cracked and your pray ran away. You sighed and looked out for the source that made the sound. You guessed that your meal needs to wait.

It wasn't a deer or another animal. It was a werewolf. The moon lightened some strands of his black hair, making it slightly silver. With attentive eyes, he followed every motion.

"Hey, wolfie. What's your name?" You asked friendly, brushing your own hair out of your face. He doesn't answer you. "Okay. So, I'm Y/n" you introduced yourself.

"You're a vampire." He stated coldly. "Yeah, I am. And you're a wolf. I don't remember any packs that live here. Where you coming from?"

"We moved here recently" he just mentioned. His body language showed his cautions and the cold temperament that hid underneath his skin.

"That's great. I'm always open for new neighbours. I live here. So maybe you want to come around with your pack" you smiled at him.

"Sorry, not interested" he told you, leaning against a tree.

"Okay. Then, hopefully see you soon, wolfie" you exclaimed, walking away to search for your next pray.

"Don't call me wolfie!" He shouted annoyed. You chuckled, it was sweet how easily he was to tease. "Alright, then tell me your name!" You said over your shoulder.

"It's Minho." He exclaimed. "Well, then it was a pleasure to meet you, Minho" you loved how easily his name rolled off your tongue. With the speed of a vampire, you searched for another rabbit.

⛧☯⛧

At home, Arin was over the moon as soon as you told her about the werewolf. She was a helpless romantic and always dreamed of love that mostly happens in books or movies. She demanded you to go into the forest again and we'll, you needed to hunt anyways.

The moon lighted your way deeper into the woods. The more time you spend here, the clearer became your mind. You loved being here.

"Hello Y/n" the voice as yesterday said. You quickly turned around. It was indeed Minho. Like yesterday, he leaned onto a tree but now with a more relaxed posture.

"Nice to see you, Minho. What ya doing here?"

"Enjoying the night. And you?" His eyes sparkled under the calming light of the moon.

"Hunting"

"Aren't you drinking blood?" He asks. "Yeah but I just drink from animals. Like rabbits and other creatures that live in the woods" you explained.

"So you're not drinking from humans?" You chuckled. "No. And in addition, I take the dead animals home so that my friends can have something to eat too"

"Are they also vampires?"

"Sometimes. Like I said yesterday, my door is always open for creatures that need shelter. And sometimes I live together with werewolves, vampires or witches"

"That's crazy." He muttered. You laughed, giving him a toothless smile. "Yup, but I like it that way."

You noticed how comfortable he was slowly getting as the conversation progressed further.

The following days, you met Minho often in the woods. He still held some distance but he grew more open and outgoing as the time went along. You couldn't deny that he was sweet and funny. And you enjoyed spending time with him.

Sometimes, you could even lure out a small smile so that his lips formed a toothy smile and a rosy tone was covering his cheeks.

As the time went on, you couldn't help but fall for the wolf. Both your personalities were totally different. He was the night, somewhat cold but at the same time caring from far away, and you were the sun, warm and friendly, even to strangers. But undeniably, you complimented each other. Just like Ying and Yang.

It was once again another meeting with him and you found him on the exact same place as always, the place where you had met for the first time.

"Hello Y/n" he welcomed, walking towards you. "Hello Minho" you smiled at him. Just like the other times, you both strolled through the woods, talking about everything and nothing, or just enjoyed each others company in a peaceful silence.

You told him about the young boy who stood at your porch this morning, a little vampire who just got turned. Of course you offered help to him. As you talked about the little guy, you walked over some big roots on the earth.

However, something that didn't disappear while being a vampire, was your clumsiness, especially when you don't concentrate on your environment.

Just like now, you didn't see a root and tripped over it. You yelped and grabbed anything to stop you from falling. Well, the nearest thing was Minho's shirt. But you didn't expect him to loose balance as well. Together, you crashed to the ground, him over you.

Quickly, he held himself up with his forearms to get his weight off your chest. "Are you okay?" He asked, worry showing clearly on his face. "Yeah" you whispered. His warm body heated your cold one.

Your eyes wandered over his face, searching for any hints of pain. You were met just with the prettiest eyes you have ever seen. They were black in the low light of the moon, still his soul and passion lightened it. Slowly, he changed his position to take some weight off his arms. One hand crept up your waist and your side. Then, it reached your neck and finally his warm hand caressed your cheek.

"You're beautiful" he mumbled, his hot breath hitting your neck.

His fingers brushed over the soft skin if your cheek when he lowered himself some more, his eyes jumping up and down from your eyes to your lips. Then, he overcame the last few centimeters and his lips crashed against yours. At first slowly and cautious but more and more passionate. You closed your eyes and just concentrated on the feeling of his pillowy lips and his scent.

⛧☯⛧

"Are you sure, you wanna meet the pack? We can still go home" Minho asked for the hundredth time. His hand held yours, caressing his thumb over yours.

"Of course it want to meet them! They're you're family" you exclaimed. Your first kiss was five weeks ago and you were over the moon when he suggested that you could meet his pack. The first thing that he did was warning you. His family was chaotic, he had said.

He brought you to a house at the other side of the forest and it was so much bigger than your tiny home. Minho opened the front door and entered, you followed him slowly.

"Guys, I'm home!" He shouted and lead you into the living room.

"Hey Min!" A brown haired boy with round cheeks exclaimed. Then, he noticed you. "Who is that?"

"Jisung, that's Y/n. My girlfriend" Minho introduced you, his fingers drawing circles on your lower back. "Since when did you have a girlfriend?" Another wolf with blonde dyed hair asked who just came through one of the doors.

"You are capable of finding a girlfriend?" A man with brown hair asked with a teasing smirk. He seemed much younger than Minho who just rolled his eyes.

Then, a wolf with curly hair came towards you with a friendly smile. "Seungmin don't be so sassy! Anyways, nice to meet ya! I'm Chan." He said.

So the younger wolf must be Seungmin. "It's nice to meet you too!" You answered.

"I'm Felix and that's Changbin and Hyunjin!" The boy with the blond hair stated and pointed to two other persons. "I'm excited to finally meet you all. I'm Y/n!" You introduced yourself as well. They seemed to don't mind that you were a vampire and not a human or a werewolf.

"I never thought that that old guy could find someone who was possible of loving him" Seungmin mentioned teasingly. Minho pressed a short kiss against your cheek. "Alright that's enough. I'll be right back, love. I just need to murder Seungmin" he grumbled and chased after the younger one.

You laughed as you watched the chasing. Chan sighed and sat beside you on the sofa. " I hope Min warned you that we are chaotic when we are ourselves" he said. You chuckled. "Yeah, he mentioned that" and you already loved that bunch of people.

[heartfullofleeches]

Erm.... But what if cc is the femboy yan to slasher darling........ Hear me out now....

Oh, I'm hearing you, chief- Being an incubus, Slasher Darling probably sees that witch who tore their heart into pieces in C.C as she was their first and only love - making him their prime target. C.C, bored out of his mind, decides to try out college life with a big emphasis on the parties. Pretty girls get more free drinks from his experiences so he decides to play the part dress wise. He gets a ton of attention from wandering eyes, but manages to develop a crush on his slasher of all people. Call him crazy, but something about those little "love letters" he receives strikes a different cord with him.

"You're so pretty.... Sometimes I wonder if you're that pretty on the inside too.... Would you let me check?"

"When I'm done with you I'll make sure nobody ever finds you. You'll be with me forever....I promise to take good care of you."

"You remind me so much of her.... but I think you might be prettier. Maybe that's why I want you so bad."

What a freak~♡ If Darling wants him so bad, all they have to do is climb through his window. He leaves it open for that exact reason. He has no clue who this other girl is, but he really wishes they'd stop bringing her up when they're trying to flirt - everything else they've written has been some of the most romantic shit C.C has ever read.

If Darling is ever able to get their hands on C.C, they won't be able to kill him by normal means. C.C falls more in love with Darling as they cradle his "lifeless" body in their arms. Imagine their horror when the body hidden in their apartment arrives for class the next day, and worse, walks right up to them and kisses them. C.C never paid them much attention before the "murder" because he knew it only drew them closer to him. Now that they've had such an intimate and passionate night together how can he ignore his lover?~

-

"You....but I..... You should be.....Was that all a dream?"

C.C pulls down the collar of his oversized sweater - purple marks kissing the pale flesh of his neck.

"Got the bruises to prove otherwise, babe. Pretty rude of you to leave me hanging after all that foreplay, but I'll forgive you if you visit me again tonight~ Maybe I can "stab" you with my knife this time?~"

Wh....What does she mean by that? It's at the same time Darling figures out that pretty girl they've been stalking cannot die that they realize....maybe he was never a girl in the first place.....and is now hunting them instead.

[honestlyboringperson]

I Tried My Hand at Designing the Full Witches of the Main Cast of Magia Record.

CAMPANELLA (Yachiyo Nanami)

The ticket puncher witch. Her nature is admittance. From not only beneath her dress, but under her hat and as well as the multitude of eyes on her tail, black watery tears spill forth with such intensity that her entire barrier is flooded with her tears. She eternally waits for a train for her board on and be reunited with her friends, but she struggles to find the train station itself. Using her lantern, she will eternally wander her ever flooded barrier to find her way to the station. If one were to be harmed by the ticket puncher at the end of her scorpion like tail, great devastation and tragedy awaits them in the near future.

YU HONG (Tsuruno Yui)

The witch of ham. Her nature is harmonious. Both great fortune and great success are the ingredients used by this witch in her kitchen, but all that she ends up producing is dubious meals that may or may not cause harm to the human body. She detests any form of household tensions and if she senses even the slightest resentment of a family member, she will force her victim into eating a feast of her aforementioned dubious cooking. Only those who don’t hide themselves from family troubles or conflict can defeat her.

BEATRICE (Felicia Mitsuki)

The eyelid witch. Her nature is tumultuous. A witch who spends most, if not all her time completely asleep within her barrier, and will almost never actively hunt humans when awake. On the other hand, this witch for whatever reason harbours a complete and utter hatred for other witches and whenever she is awake, will mercilessly locate and smash other witches flat with her mallet like hands. If there is something positive that catches her attention however, she will fear that they will somehow leave her and attempt to bury them in her concrete like tears that she spews forth from her eyes.

THERESIA (Sana Futaba)

The inquisition chair witch. Her nature is transparency. Eternally sitting atop a chair with a mind of its own, this innocent witch lives in perpetual torment and agony. The chair itself is not a part of the witch, and carries out its duty to keep the witch chained to its spiked body and weaponize the truly staggering amount of torture devices it has at its disposal. The witch desires not to hurt anyone and is further tormented by the acts of intense violence that unfold before her. Due to being invisible, her sobs are the only clue where to strike if one wants to hunt this pitiful witch. When the witch dies, a single innocuous sound of a cat meowing will echo through the barrier.

ZOLA (Kaede Akino)

The witch of plot lands. Her nature is to be territorial. Within this witches’ head is planted the simple goal of expanding her territory. When she arrives to an urban area, she desires nothing but to return it to nature and covers it completely in rotten moss. She doesn’t tolerate any form of pest, as she sees them as encroaching on her property and will mercilessly destroy anything that steps into her barrier. Despite this outwardly aggressive behaviour, she is gentle towards the plant life in her barrier, which she grows herself. For some odd reason, these plants moan and can move on their own like zombies, so it’s best not to approach them at all.

CENDRILLION (Rena Minami)

The glass slipper witch. Her nature is transformative. This witch detests herself, and desires to change no matter what. When she senses someone in her barrier, she rush up to them and tear their face off. These faces are then turned into masks, and the witch can freely transform into them. However, she cannot imitate the soul of her victims and usually just ends up acting like a wild animal. If one were to gaze into the mirror on her arm like appendage for too long, she will steal their soul. When the witch dies, a single glass slipper will fall out of no where and shatter to pieces.

ELFRIEDE (Momoko Togame)

The witch of manicured nails. Her nature is self-discipline. This witch cares not where it’s power flies. It continually and proudly displays and decorates the fingers and nails that not only make up her body, but also fly around her as well. It takes great care of its shoddy manicures, but when someone insults it’s nails it becomes quite depressed and either attempts to pierce the victim with her razor sharp nails, or becomes paralyzed with insecurity. Only those who can get up again and again even after misfortune can successfully defeat this witch.

TOTENTANZ (Mitama Yakumo)

The witch of flower petals. Her nature is forewarning. This witch doesn’t forget that no matter what, death comes to all things. It resents its environment and desires nothing but it’s untimely destruction. It is strangely gentlemanly, and escorts those who enter her barrier with pure white gloves, but her terrifying power that is connected to the untimely end of all things often ends up decaying anything that her petals fall upon. Even if you manage to defeat this witch, the sheer amount of pent up curses will often end up taint a soul gem to its limit and will end with a new witch springing up in her place.

[jasmines-library]

Can you do a Winchester brothers (mostly Dean) x sister reader where she is captured but they tie her to an anchor and drown her and the boys have to save her and bring her back to life

Sounds of Someday

WHUMPTOBER DAY 24: Prompt: “I thought they were with you?”

Fandom: Supernatural.

Summary: the request pretty much says it all. When you and your brothers split up during an unusual hunt, you get caught and become part of a witch’s ritual, which ends with your life slipping away and your brothers struggling to reach you as you are dragged away.

Warnings: Drowning, blood, capturing, character death.

Word count: 2.3k

Note: thank you so much for requesting anon! This was really fun to write. I hope you don’t mind that I included it in my whumptober series, I thought it fit interestingly with todays prompt!

MAST ERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You and your brothers weren’t sure what you were hunting. There was no pattern- nothing set in stone to follow and every time you thought you had latched onto something in the lore, it would change unpredictably to something that contradicted what you’d just believed. At first, you thought it was a vampire. It had appeared out of nowhere, slinking in from the darkness. But then people started to go missing and the bodies were being discovered in strange ways: with nasty scratches, dark bruises or completely torn to shreds. Then, Sam led you on to believe it a spirit, looking to extract some sort of revenge. But you weren’t sure. Nothing was linear and it was making your head spin just thinking about it.

The town you were hunting in was quaint residence in the centre of Minnesota. It was surrounded by woodland and was fairly isolated from the rest of the world around it, making it the perfect stomping ground. It honestly surprised you that this place hadn’t cropped up before.

Your feet had begun to ache as you trudged slowly through the pine needles behind your brothers. You had a backpack slung over your shoulder which rattled as you hauled it higher up on your back. You had been walking for ages, training behind your older brothers who, given the fact they were much taller than you had managed to move at a much faster pace, having to take less steps due to their long strides. Sam had insisted that you stake out the woods in chance of finding something hidden nearby, but the area was vast and the three of you were yet to find anything in the hours of walking behind you. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon too, making it increasingly hard to gage your surroundings and keep your bearings.

“We should split up.” Sam said suddenly as you came to a fork in the path. It broke the silence that had gradually settled over you once you had run out of things to talk about.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What? Are you stupid, Sam?”

The tallest Winchester sighed deeply and slowed his pace to a stop. “We’re not going to find anything if we all huddle together. It’s getting dark and our best shot at finding something is if we split up.”

“That’s exactly my point, Sam. It’s getting dark and we don’t know what’s out there. Besides, there’s no way y/n is going out there on her own-“

“Y/n is old enough to go back to the motel alone-“

You scoffed, cutting him off with a stern look. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Y/n-“

“Dean.”

“You know we don’t like it when you go off alone-“

“I’m not a child, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

Your eldest brother let out a relenting sigh after shared an unspoken glance with Sam. The two of them had a habit of doing that. “Fine. But if you’re not back here within the hour then you’re in deep shit.”

You grinned, turning to head down the middle path.

“And y/n-“ Dean called out to you. You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Keep your phone on.”

You nodded and made your way down the trail. Dean didn’t move for a while. Something nagged at him, so he stood as you wandered off into the trees, watching you with careful eyes. Little did he know that he wasn’t the only one watching you.

~

You had been walking for sometime. Too long. The woods had thickened and the darkness made it impossibly hard to tell the path ahead from the path you’d just taken. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were lost. And to make matters worse you hadn’t even found anything useful. You had considered messaging Dean for help; but that would involve admitting that you were wrong and you knew that if you did that you wouldn’t hear the end of it. You were reluctant, but when you reached into your pocket to pull out the device, you found that it was missing. You then considered turning back, you knew something was wrong and it was nearing an hour since you had left and were due to rendezvous with your brothers, so you would be able to reach them without worrying them…but that was when it caught your eye.

Dangling limply from a brunch, a piece of blood-splattered cloth hung. It was fresh, still dripping blood onto the muddy ground below it. It looked as though it had snagged on a branch. You reached out to collect it in between your fingers, turning it over slowly as your examined it. When you went to pocket it, there was a loud snap of a branch to your left.

Almost mechanically you had dropped the cloth and replaced it with the cool hilt of your pistol. You were on high alert, searching for the source of the sound. Then came other to your right. And then behind you.

You were surrounded.

You didn’t know where to direct your attention, whipping around to find your best course of action. But whoever or whatever was tailing you was smart and clearly outnumbered you.

Someone tackled you from the side, forcing you to the ground with a sickening thud. You screamed, startled. Delivering an upwards kick, you tried to throw the woman off of you, but her grip was firm as she rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head and straddling your waist. There was another pair of hands working a rope around your feet and other around your hands. You tried to squirm, kick and scream, but a harsh slap left you disorientated as a gag was forced around your mouth.

~

Sam came to a halt at the rendezvous point. He was a few minutes late and was met with an antsy looking Dean, who was pacing and constantly glancing at the time displayed on his phone screen. Sam could see the gun he had loosely planted in his jean pocket.

Dean turned at the sound of footsteps approaching, but he was in no way revived. In fact the sight made his chest constrict. Sam was alone.

“Where is she?” Dean demanded, crossing the space between him and his younger brother in two large strides.

Sam furrowed his brow. “I thought she was with you?”

“No.” Dean fumbled in his pocket to bring up your contact number. “She texted me. She said she had found you and that she was gonna…”

Dean trailed off when Sam flashed up his screen to reveal an identical message. They had been played.

“Son of a bitch.”

“You think she did this?” Sam asked. It wasn’t something entirely out of character for you. You would often trick your brothers into getting what you wanted, or simply just for some peace and quiet.

“I-“

All ideas were cut short at the sound of a shrill scream, that caused both brother’s hearts to falter. Your scream. They would recognise your voice in a crowd of a thousand. Neither of them wasted any time as they darted towards the sound.

~

You had managed to make out three of them as they began to drag you through the woods over bumps. The pine needles gathered in your hair and clung to your clothes to poke at your skin. You knew that your brothers would realise quickly that something was wrong. It was hardwired into them. But one of them was doing something with your phone which you could only assume she had managed to snatch from your pocket somewhere along your trek.

You could only watch as they dragged you into a clearing. You were grateful when the upturned roots morphed into grass. The lake glistened under the moonlight and the start sky. It was the type of serene scene that you and your brothers would pull up at and sit on the roof of the Impala just to revel in the quiet. The thought only made the situation seem even sicker. When the women hauled you onto a dock, you sensed two more people lingering nearby. One of them held a weighted book and the other a set of chains fastened to what looked like some sort of anchor.

Your eyes flew open when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. They were witches. And you were part of their spell. You tried to dig the heels of your boots into the wooden slats and scrabble away, but one of them landed a kick to your stomach and dragged you closer again, hauling you up onto your feet and holding you tightly in their grasp.

One raised your hand, biting into it with a silver dagger and then squeezing it into a chalice. You’re screamed and bit into the gag. Then they began to chant. Old, foreign words that rang throughout your ears. But nothing stayed. Your mind was too hazy as your blood dribbled out of the wound. After the final word had been spoken, one of the male witches snatched you away and pushed you towards the edge of the dock. The water was dark and endless below you and you tried to teeter away from the edge but you were in a vulnerable position and with one wicked smirk and another chorus of chanting, you were sent tumbling over the edge and into the water. But not before you hear the faintest whisper of your name carried across in the wind.

~

There’s something irresistably poetic about drowning. You weren’t sure if it was the way that time slows to nothing the moment your body it’s the icy water, or the way that it was so quiet under the surface, but there was something about it.

Well, that was until you watched the bubbles escape from your mouth and your nose, rising up to the surface and the dissipating. You tried to kick the binds way, flailing to gain some traction on the water and pull yourself up the the surface so that you could take a desperate gasp of air, but the binds rendered you powerless as the anchor dragged you down down down into inky nothingness. Your lungs burned as you struggled to retain what precious air you had left in your lungs, jerking and twisting to try and get free, but the struggling left you tired and soon the last of the air rose from your mouth. The water assaulted your eyes too, blurring your vision even through there wasn’t much to see besides the white light of the moon above.

Somewhere above your there was a loud splash as Dean delved deep into the water, scrambling after you. He had watched in horror as your body pummelled off the side. He didn’t think he could urge is legs to go any faster as he ran next to Sam who helped him make quick work of taking down the witches. Once the odds had been evened Dean took the plunge after you.

His body nearly went into shock against the stabbing of the cold, but he paid no mind to it as he watched your body sink at an alarming rate. Your hair drifted around you like a halo as he urged his body forwards to catch up with you.

Somehow he managed to wrap a calloused hand around yours. He pulled you to his chest, palling at your stillness, and fumbled to release you from the anchor. Once the heavy weight was gone, he gave one hard kick after pushing your body so that it could drift to the surface, following closely behind and ignoring the burn in his chest.

When his head broke the surface the took a huge, spluttering gulp of air, sucking it in greedily. But you didn’t move. You didn’t squirm to keep yourself afloat, your chest rise and fall, you didn’t even blink.

Dean was then paddling his way over you you, lifting your body so that Sam, who was clinging to the edge of the dock with an outstretched hand could pull you into land.

“Come on!” He urged, gripping you under the armpits and pulling you back onto try land. Dean was inches behind, silently praying that you would be okay. But your heart had stopped.

“No. No no no.” Dean cried at your stillness. “Come on y/n. You don’t get to do this to us.”

He hovered over you, locking his hands in place to begin CPR.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He pleaded, breathing into your mouth. He could feel the resistance in your lungs. His chest tightened further.

“Dean-“ Sam’s voice wavered as he laid a hand on his shoulders.

“No. Shut up Sammy.” He shook his head and blinked away the tears and he pressed harder against your chest, winching at the sound of them splintering beneath the force of his compressions. “She’s fine. She’s fine.”

“Dean…”

You sat up abruptly, heaving a wet cough as you keeled over expelled the water from your lungs. Dean patted your back to help. Everything hurt, your head, your joints, your lungs.

“That’s it, kid. Let it all out.”

“They… they-“ you tried to speak, but your voice was horse and scared so it came out more like a whimper. You took in deep breaths.

Dean cradled you to his chest, rocking you back and fourth in his arms as you sobbed, shivering from the cold and the shock.

“You’re okay, kid.” Sam tried to reassure you.

“We’re here y/n. We will always protect you, no matter what. And as long as you are here, we will always keep you safe. I promise.”

<- DAY 23 ⛤ DAY 25 ->

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[jaeedraszaerysz]

YOU CANT EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED ☆ JOFFREY BARATHEON

Masterlist

Warnings: joffrey obviously, swearing, mentions of murder and war, mentions of incest.

Summary: being joffrey baratheons cupbearer as the last targaryen in Kings landing was bound to be eventful, just not in the way that pleases you. Until...

Notes: reader is FEMALE also to fit in with the context of this fic, joffrey is around 17-18 and the reader is 19 ish making her 6 years younger than viserys and 4 years older than daenerys in season 1

___________________________________________

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

___________________________________________

Being born a targaryen was like a game of Russian roulette. You were either blessed with great kindness and gentleness or cursed with madness and cruelty. In your case, it had been the former thankfully.

According to the maesters and other occupants of Kings landing you had been the most peaceful of the three targaryen babies to have been born of aerys II, the mad king. You had never cried or wailed or screamed, only smiled and attempted to befriend any lord, lady, knight or servant who came to cross your path.

But when the rebellion came and your father was dethroned and executed by jaime lannister your life had been flipped. Your brother rhaegar was dead along with all of his children, your other brother viserys and your mother, pregnant with another targaryen had fled, leaving you.

You didn't know why. You were still only a child of 3. No one else seemed to know either. So, Robert baratheon, the new king of the seven Kingdoms, decided to keep you. You were to be raised in Kings landing by a nurse and tywin lannister, having worked on your father's council before his death, made sure that you were educated properly.

By the time you had turned ten years of age, it was almost that your taragryen lineage had been forgotten, except for the obvious snowy hair and violet eyes. But no one that actually mattered seemed to pay attention to it any more.

You had grown close to cersei lannister in your teenage years, despite her being almost twenty years older than yourself. She was nice to you and as you grew, so did her eldest son, Prince joffrey. And then her others, princess myrcella and Prince tommen.

You were a bright girl, smart and kind. You had even been known to summon a smile from the Knight commonly referred to as the hound, sandor clegane. However, you had very little friends and were often seen wandering around or sitting by the flowers in the gardens, staring out into the sea or the city below.

By the time you had turned ten and seven you were truly a sight to behold, having inherited the targaryen beauty of your ancestors. But, as the small council came to realise that marrying off the only targaryen in westeros to a rich or powerful lord may not have been the most amazing idea, the king decided to appoint you as joffreys cupbearer.

You were good for the job, you listened attentively, you were smart and quick. And most importantly there wasn't anything distinct about you that joffrey could complain of and have you removed for.

So that's what became of you. You became his cupbearer and followed him around the red keep, accompanied him on his hunts or his short journeys and poured his wine, brought him his food, or anything else he asked for. Of course you were not immune to his cruelty, the opposite actually. He often mocked your unnatural eyes and Strangely perfect competition, he called you a witch, trying to enchant the castle and accused you of whoring about with the knights although you had never been with anyone.

He overworked you and reprimanded you but you were always there to listen, happy to be given a chance. He noticed this and it aggravated him. To see someone who was supposed to be miserable so joyous at the idea of bringing the king his meals and wine and suffering his abuse day and night for the rest of his or her life.

It confused him, how he had his ways so easily with you but not through fear, anger or blackmail, but through pure loyalty and gratitude that your life had been spared and you had been given a chance and something other than death or imprisonment.

He wasn't stupid. He heard the Lords and ladies whisper as you walled behind him. He heard the knights mock as you passed by. Eventually it grew to anger him slightly whenever your name was put down or insulted.

Only he was allowed to do that. And that in mind, joffrey became rather possessive of you in a way.

You listened to him rant. Listened to his drone on about his parents or the peasants or his siblings. About the food and the weather and the sheets. About everything.

And that is how you ended up here, stood in his chambers, listening to him speak of the lady sansa stark and his new betrothal to her. And listening to him rave about how he was still expected to marry the traitors daughter. And you knew ned stark was no such a man, and you were sure he did to, but you listened all the same.

He paced quickly around the room, hands behind his back, until he was called for a meeting of the small council. He was quite busy as of late, what with stannis baratheons army, renly baratheons army aswell now. And the north's new rebellion, robb stark, son of the late ned, proclaiming himself king in the North and marching closer by the day.

Joffrey was the king now, and he was much more cruel as of late, and you thought about it on your way back to your chambers that night. They had been decent enough to give you a separate room in the servants quarters, what with your family name and the risks of you forming alliances that had become more prominently discussed in the recent months you had noticed.

You had heard that viserys was marrying off your sister to the dothraki khal in exchange for an army but the conversation was dropped a while ago.

You had changed into your nightgown and were now stood, brushing your hair gently and staring out of your window to the crashing waves below. They calmed you, but that calm was interrupted by a harsh collection of violent knocks at your door.

You had set aside the brush and quickly gone to answer. Noticing it was joffrey which was unusual as he always sent someone for you, never venturing anywhere near the servants end of the castle.

"Whatever is the matter, your grac-"

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck. He held you in an embrace and you were stunned for a moment, eyes wide and staring at sandor clegane who stood across the hall and shrugged and you.

You had slowly and anxiously returned the hug, moving your hand gently up and down his back as he slowly began to cry. It was almost silent hut you could feel him shaking.

"Your grace, do you-" you let out a breath. "Do you want to come in and sit for a moment?"

He nodded into your shoulder and you guided him into your room, ignoring the silent laughs from the hound as you closed the door, sitting joffrey down on your bed, he rested himself against the headboard, on the side closest to the window.

You had quickly grabbed him a cup of water and offered it to him, he took it and you stood infront of him cautiously.

"Are you alright, your grace?" You asked quietly.

He stopped his slow crying for a moment and looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I'm a terrible king. I don't know what to do about all the stupid Lords and ladies constantly wanting my attention. I don't know what to do about uncle renly or uncle stannis, about robb stark or my mother or anything."

Your face softened with sympathy for the boy king slightly as you replied.

"You are no such thing, your grace. War is a strange and chaotic thing, no one ever really, truly knows what to do. You're handling it well I'm sure of it, your grace."

He looked down into his lap and them out if the window and into the dark sky.

"Do you really think so?"

"I do, your grace."

He paused and and studied your face, your beautiful eyes and hair, your skin and lips, your figure and everything else about you.

"Why are you nice to me? I am nothing but cruel to you and yet you are happy to serve me. You listen and you don't tire of me. Why?"

"Because, your grace," you spoke softly. "I cannoted ever repay the generosity your family had shown me and I do not find it a chore to listen to you. I do not have any friends, I do not have people to speak to for no one ever wants the risk of speaking to the mad Kings Daughter. But you, your grace, you speak to me, about everything. About your problems, about your feelings. You don't see me as the targaryen girl, you see me as your cupbearer. Nothing more, nothing less, your grace."

You say nervously on the end of your bed, gazing at him. He gestured for you to sit closer and so you shuffled up the bed until you too were leaned against the headboard.

"Your grace, it is improper for someone such as yourself to be laying in such a room, are you sure I cannot escort you back to your chambers, get you some food or some wine?"

He didn't not reply, he just yet again stared out of the window.

"I think of you as much more than that you know." He mumbled.

"I'm sorry, your grace?" You asked, confounded by the statement.

"I think of you as much more than just my cupbearer. Much more."

"Your grace, i am afraid I do not understand quite what you are implyi-"

He lent forward slightly as cupped your check with his hand, his beautiful brown eyes staring into your own vivid, violet ones. He tinged his head slightly and kissed you.

His lips were soft and warm, his kiss gentle. Not at all like you had expected. He pulled away slowly, still keeping eye contact.

"Your grace, i-"

"Joffrey."

"I, I'm sorry i-" he placed a finger over your lips, shushing you softly.

"Just joffrey."

And he kissed you again, this time much more passionately, your lips moving in sync with each other and your heartbeats rising, bodies getting closer and closer.

And that is how you stayed until the morning when cersei found you both, but she never said a word, to either of you, instead choosing to leave quietly.

As she walked back down the corridor, she was joined by tyrion lannister and she looked down at him.

"Well that certainly was not expected to happen any time soon." He stated.

"Well, dear brother, you can't expect the unexpected, can you?