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the-witheredroses · 6 months

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Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

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Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

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thebiggerbear · 4 months

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Dean Winchester x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can't accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. ...But is he really gone?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Huntress!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I had this idea for a scene in my head that took place during 15x20 with the reader and Sam & then from there it just kind of wrote itself, including the semi-twist. Hope it's okay.

There is a song mentioned in here ("Is This Love" by Whitesnake) which is a sort of homage/dedication/thank you. I read this Dean x Reader fic a long time ago (I can't remember the name of the fic or the author right now, I'm sorry!) but they used the song for some Dean/Reader time in the Impala and I had never heard the song before so I checked it out. I have become obsessed with it. It's so perfect, not only for Dean but in general as an 80s love rock ballad. So thank you to that author whoever you are!

This is meant to take place between mid-15x20 and Dean's foray in The Winchesters (pre-series).

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: angst; mentions of character death; mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 12k+

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

You sat on the corner of the bed in your motel room, numb, your phone next to you, having been forgotten long ago.

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. You refused to believe it. How was Dean just gone? On a simple hunt? How?

Sam had called you to give you the news. You could hear the breaks in his voice as he relayed what happened, sounding as if he had been crying just a few minutes before. Vampires. Who were mute. A gang of them run by a vampire named Jenny they had faced off with years ago. On a hunt with John. She had gotten away and they thought she was gone for good. Apparently not.

You were frozen, in shock, unable to process what he was telling you.

“Y/N?”

“I… I need to see him,” you whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment before he forced out, “I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

You shut your eyes in pain. “What?” You could feel your throat tightening as well as your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I had to. I couldn’t…” You heard him take a breath. “I couldn’t make the long drive with… I just couldn’t.” You could hear those breaks again and you should have been hurting for him, that not only did he have to watch his brother die but he’d had to burn him alone. But right then you got angry and you couldn’t help snapping at him.

“Why would you burn his body, Sam? You know we need his body to bring him back!”

“Y/N, he didn’t want to be brought back.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I do. He told me right before he died. As long as I was going to be okay,” Another break. “He was done.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and regret immediately consumed you. You knew Sam was telling you the truth. Dean making sure Sam would be okay as he was dying clinched it for you. Sam had always been his main concern. You started mentally berating yourself then. If only you hadn’t let fear stop you, you could have given him something to live for, to fight for. He would have let Sam call for help, call Jack, something. He would have made sure he somehow made it home, just like he always did. But you didn’t and now, he was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone.

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. “I have to go, Sam.”

“Y/N, I—”

You ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. You weren’t trying to be heartless. Sam was obviously struggling and you should be there for him. That’s what Dean would want, you knew that. The two of you being there for each other, helping one another, you looking after his little brother while he looked out for you. But you just…couldn’t.

Why hadn’t you called Dean? After everything that went down with Chuck and Jack? Why hadn’t you reached out? You owed him that at the very least. So why hadn’t you?

You knew the answer to that. You were scared and like a coward, you’d told yourself it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have changed anything. But a part of you knew it would and that scared you just as much.

You thought back to the last time you’d seen him, right after he and Sam went to try to get Amara on board against Chuck. He was still reeling with the news that Cas had told him before he’d left, that Jack was going to sacrifice himself to kill Chuck. He cared about Jack, more than he let on, even though the kid had accidentally killed Mary. Jack was family to him and he was having a serious moment of doubt. If Jack’s plan would work; if he should let it happen; if he should tell Sam; if Chuck hadn’t been right, he would win in the end. He was so beyond tired of that: Chuck winning. He didn’t want to sacrifice Jack but if they could be free of Chuck and have a chance…

He was torn up about it and he’d called you, asked you where you were, then begged you to come to the Bunker when he found out you were only an hour or so away. You hadn’t wanted to, you could hear the desperation in his voice and you knew all too well what would happen if you went. You were still hurting and you didn’t know if you could survive that.

You didn’t bother telling him that the reason you were an hour outside of town was because you’d temporarily settled there, not sure where to go or what to do. Sure, you took on hunts here and there, but ultimately you were lost. Ever since Dean broke things off with you because he couldn’t tell what was real anymore versus what had been Chuck all along. The breakup had hurt, of course, but that caused pain in you that you weren’t really sure you would ever come back from. Him thinking everything between you might not be real? After you’d given him everything you could because you deeply loved him? In your heart, you knew it was real, but when you had said this to him, he’d simply responded with “I don’t” in his typical detached way he adopted whenever he had made up his mind that he had to do something for the greater good, no matter how hard it might be. You thought he had already broken your heart, but it shattered right then in your chest.

Since it was Dean, though, and he never begged, you went. And sure enough, what you worried would happen, happened. One minute, you’d been wiping the rare tears he let fall around you, and the next minute, he was kissing you and gently pushing you back onto his bed. You could feel the desperation in his movements, his touches, the way his lips trailed over your skin. Shockingly, he took his time with you, and it only hit you halfway through that this was his real goodbye. It wasn’t guaranteed that Billie’s plan would work but he hoped it would. And if it did, then that meant he and Sam would finally be free and they could hang it up if they wanted to, do something else with their lives and move on. And that possible future didn’t include you.

You’d silently cried then, holding onto Dean as he moved and moaned into your ear. When he pulled back to kiss you, your cheeks were free of any tear tracks and you kissed him back. You wondered how on earth he couldn’t feel that this was very real between you as you moved your hips to meet his in a tender rhythm as he held you in his lap, his green eyes staring into yours as he held you close. Sex was sex but this right here, this right in between you right then that he refused to put a name to, it was beyond real. You knew he could feel it just as much as you could…so why was he still hellbent on throwing it (and you) away?

A little while later, you had laid there, with his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, his body still entangled with yours, staring up at the ceiling as you both were still trying to catch your breath. Your heart spoke for you before you could stop it. “I love you,” you whispered, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

It shocked the hell out of you and made something warm and fluttery happen inside your chest when he sleepily murmured to your skin, “Love y’too. Don’go.” You ended up chalking it up to him being in a post-sex sleep daze though, not knowing what he was really saying or even really having heard you correctly. That or he only meant for the night because the very next morning, things went back to how they were.

Dean seemed surprised when he woke up to find you next to him, scrolling through the news feed on your phone for any new cases. You’d given him a warm smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased.

Instead of smiling back, though, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.” You could see that familiar detached expression settle on his features and you knew he was regretting the night before. He had been drinking by the time you got there, sure, but he hadn’t been inebriated. He was incredibly lucid by the time he made a move on you so try as he might, this couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake.

You could literally feel that wall going back up and you gave one last ditch effort to keep him from shutting you back out, even laying a hand over his. “Dean, don’t—”

He pulled away from you and got out of bed, quickly slipping on his Scooby Doo boxers and jeans that he grabbed from the floor. You might have smiled seeing the familiar underwear that you hated but secretly loved if you weren’t hurting so much. “I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asked, slipping a black t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if Sam’s cooking anything up. I need a serious cup of coffee. You just…” He glanced back at you, seeing you holding the sheet tightly to your chest as you watched him, compulsively swallowing when he saw your eyes glistening. “You, uh, just come out when you’re ready.” He then made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and never looking back.

You sat back against the headboard, dissolving into a fit of tears and quiet sobs. You knew you should have never come. Once you were able to breathe without fresh tears welling up, you got yourself cleaned up and redressed. You splashed some water on your face and you took a deep breath before leaving the room. You were near the bunker stairs when Sam called out to you.

“Hey! Y/N!”

He was coming over to you, a big smile on his face. He was pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as warmly, forcing a smile.

He gave you a quick hug and you could see Jack a little ways behind him, giving you a smile and wave. “I didn’t know you were here. We were just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, I…”

You were saved from having to make an excuse when Dean appeared next to Jack, his expression severe and cold all at the same time. “She’s got a hunt she’s heading out for. Possible vamp nest in Duluth. Right, Y/N?”

Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you even more, there he went proving you wrong. “Right,” you agreed quietly. You turned a wan smile onto Sam. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Duluth?” Sam glanced from his brother to you. “Maybe we can give you a hand on this one.”

“We can’t,” Dean stated firmly. He gave his brother a look and Sam’s brows furrowed before realization played upon his features and his jaw tightened. He turned apologetic hazel eyes onto you. “Donna’s up that way. If she needs a hand, she can call her,” Dean added.

You felt sick to your stomach. Obviously, you weren’t heading to Duluth or anywhere near Minnesota but the way he dismissed you so casually…the pain was overwhelming. The smile you kept on Sam turned into more of a grimace. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m good. Like your brother said, I can call Donna if I need anything. Don’t worry. Thanks, though.” You squeezed his arm and then turned to make your way up the stairs.

“Best of luck,” Dean gruffed out. You turned to see pure ice staring back at you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart right there, from demanding why Dean had obviously only called you for sex and a pick-me-up when there plenty of women in Lebanon that could do that for him, from begging him to wake up and see you were right in front of him and that what you had was very much real before it was too late. Instead, you continued climbing the stairs.

“Keep us updated and give us a call if you need anything,” Sam called after you.

“Will do,” you forced out.

“Good luck,” Jack offered.

When you reached the top, you glanced once more at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. The green gaze staring back at you was cold, hard. You let out a huff and shook your head, turning to open the door and close it behind you. That had been the very last time you saw him.

After that, you went back to the motel you had been renting a room in, packed up, and headed across state lines. You ignored Dean’s calls but took Sam’s.

Apparently, at some point, you had vanished when Chuck disappeared everyone. You had no idea until Donna filled you in. That explained the several missed calls from both Sam and Dean and the voicemails they left. Both had sounded desperate, especially Dean.

“Please, Y/N. I know you’re pissed at me and I get it but please call me back. Or call Sam. I don’t care. Just as long as we know you’re still with us and that you’re okay.” His tone sounded rough around the edges but considering the context Sam gave you when you did call him (there was no way you were calling Dean, especially not now), you realized they were just desperate to get in touch with anyone, having lost Cas and being the only three forms of life left on the planet.

Dean was right, you were angry. Angry that he’d used you that night, angry that he’d broken your heart in the first place. He had pursued you before you got together, not the other way around. By the time you let your guard down enough to let him in and things kicked off between you, he was deep in. Or so he’d said. By the time he ended things, you were deep in yourself. Now…now you were in even deeper thanks to him, so deep you were pretty sure Dean would haunt you the rest of your life no matter how you tried to shut him out of your heart.

Another tear rolled down your cheek. Though, you’d never meant the word haunt literally.

You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out an aggravated breath before getting to your feet. You grabbed your coat, your emergency bag, your hunting bag, and the car keys from the table near the door. You locked up and got into the car you only used for hunts and grocery trips now, starting it and backing out of the driveway.

It’s not that you doubted what Sam had told you or Sam himself, but you needed to see things for yourself. You turned the car in the direction that would lead you to Kansas.

You opened the door to the Bunker, seeing nothing but darkness greeting you, the clanking of the door being the only sound to echo in the large chamber. That was strange. They never shut it down when they left for hunts. You hit the lights and hearing a loud thrumming sound, you watched as they came back on, one by one. You had your own key since you were also a Legacy. You’d never been more thankful for that fact when you arrived to find the Bunker locked down, no Sam in sight.

You shut the door behind you and dropped your bags near the table. You bit your lip to keep your eyes from welling up when you noticed an unfinished chess game on the table, most likely one that Dean and Cas had been engaged in, but now neither of them would be back to complete it. Instead, you focused on the matter at hand. You pulled your gun out and an angel blade, slipping the latter into your coat pocket in case you needed it. In the other pocket, you slipped a flask of holy water and a small piece of iron bar you could wield if need be. In your gun sat silver bullets; you couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Especially if the word was out to the world of the supernatural that Dean Winchester was gone and only Sam was left now, alone.

You slowly made your way down the stairs, listening intently for any other noises you might hear. All that you could make out besides your footsteps was the low hum of electricity that was commonplace for the old bunker. You cleared the library, the hallways, the kitchen, the shower room, the infirmary, the Dean Cave where you’d been forced to watch The Lost Boys and slasher films more times than you cared to count (you had dug your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying when you saw the DVD cover of Tombstone left near the TV), every single room in the place until you came to the one that made a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it back down and forced yourself to focus, raising your gun that much higher. You opened the door and hit the lights, scanning every which way. The room was clear.

You lowered your gun and made your way inside, the lump in your throat back again. Your eyes roamed over the hastily made bed; the empty dog bowls on the floor (which made your brows furrow in confusion slightly); the messy desk; the empty beer bottles on the table; the headphones on the nightstand; the shotguns on the wall; the books scattered about; the load of laundry sitting off to the right in a corner. Memories washed over you and your eyes began to sting as tears welled up.

You’d walked into the room to find Dean jamming out on his bed, listening to music through the headphones he’d insisted on buying on your last trip. You huffed out a laugh and dropped the laundry basket of folded clothes onto the bed, garnering his attention.

He opened his eyes and glanced up to find you smiling at him.

“What are you listening to?”

He held one of the phones away from his ear and you could hear some serious strumming of heavy metal guitar coming out of it. “Huh?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” You asked a little louder.

“What?” He nearly yelled.

You picked up the top item from your pile, his Scooby Doo underthings, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed squarely on his chest and he immediately jumped up as if it had burned him, his cheeks turning redder by the second as he threw the headphones onto the bed.

“You did my laundry?” He asked in horror.

Amazing. You two had explored every single inch of each other time and time again, been sort of rooming together for the past month, but he was embarrassed that you washed his dirty underwear?

You shrugged and began to place his folded clothes on the bed. “I had room in the washer so I figured I’d grab yours, too. You’re welcome.”

“You washed our clothes together?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

You gasped and gave him a mock look of horror. “Oh no, not together.” You tossed a pair of jeans over at him and he caught it in time. “I used detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, and everything,” you teased. “But putting it away is where I draw the line, pal. That’s on you.” You pointed to the neat pile sitting on the bed before moving over to the door to head to the room you kept your things in down the hall.

Arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping your trek, and Dean murmured into your ear, “You washed my clothes for me?”

“And folded, too,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”

“Mmm, what else can I get you to do for me?” He grabbed the basket from you and placed it down before gripping your hips and moving in to kiss your neck.

“Hey, I’m not your maid. I had room in the washer, that was it. Don’t get used to this,” you laughed before digging your teeth into your lip when you felt his tongue on a particular part of your skin.

“What if I want to get used to this?” He moved up to your jaw line.

“I’d say you’re SOL. Unless…”

“Unless?” He hummed near your lips.

“Unless you finally let me tidy up this room a little.”

His head shot up, frowning down at you. “What? Why, what’s wrong with how it is now?”

“Well,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Some of these papers on the desk need organizing, the books can be put in a stack on the table over there, these empty beer bottles can be thrown out, the shotguns you have near the bed can be put away…”

“There’s nothing wrong with anything you just mentioned,” he grumbled.

“Oh, really? So the other night when you were doing that thing—”

“That thing you really like,” he interrupted, smirking cockily at you.

You had to keep from rolling your eyes and smirking yourself. “When I moved, I knocked into the shotgun and it fell. It almost went off. You remember that?”

“Nothing happened or went off, well, except you.” His smirk got even bigger. “You remember that?”

This time you gently swatted at his shoulder. “Dean.”

He heard the warning in your no-nonsense tone and laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “Alright,” he whispered to your lips. “I’ll put the shotguns up out of the way. But everything else stays.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath. One of these days when he wasn’t looking, you swore you’d do as exactly as you’d suggested. Clear out the empty bottles and stack the books at the very least.

“Hey, it’s all about compromise, right? Speaking of that,” He turned you around in his arms and you were once again facing the laundry basket he’d left on the floor. “Find a space and keep some of ‘em in here.”

A pleasant shock ran through you. “Are you sure?” You whispered.

He slowly turned you back around and gently cupped your chin. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure. You’re practically sleeping in here every night, anyway. I’d rather you not have to put back on the same clothes from the night before or walk naked down to your room. Then again, naked…”

You glared up at him, making him chuckle and brush his lips against yours. “I just didn’t want to crowd you,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s your space. If I’m in here too much, I can—”

“I want you here.” You gazed into his green eyes, unsure, but all you saw staring back at you was softness with a glint of earnestness. He was telling you the truth; he really wanted you to stay.

“Okay,” you agreed with a shy smile.

He beamed at you and then picked you up, making you gasp loudly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Not that you’re gonna be needing them right now.”

You shook your head and kissed him as he walked you both towards the bed. When he had you on it, you could hear the music coming from the forgotten headphones. “Is that…Whitesnake?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Uh huh. One sec.” He reached over, quickly clicked something on his phone, and the music suddenly changed. You smiled when a familiar song started up.

“Really?”

“What? It’s our song.”

You framed his face with your hands, looking up at him affectionately. “Dean Winchester, secretly sentimental and sensitive guy extraordinaire,” you teased him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m not any of that crap. It’s the first song we made good use of Baby’s backseat to, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in here, we gotta celebrate.”

Romantic. You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Like I said, sentimental.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him sweetly. Needless to say, he had been right; you hadn’t needed your clothes for a little while.

You took in a ragged breath, your fingers gently touching over the papers on his desk. While you hated the empty beer bottles and you didn’t want to end up possibly shot with a salt round during a passionate moment of sex, you really hadn’t minded how he had things. You knew this was the first home he and Sam ever really had. He could keep things messy or disorganized if he wanted to; he had more than earned the right. It might sound silly to someone else but he deserved to experience living in a home, mess and all, like everyone did at some point in their lives. Not only did he not have a place to do that since he’d been four years old, he’d never felt comfortably settled in anywhere ever to be able to do it. You remembered him and Sam telling you how long it had taken Dean to settle into this room, to think of the Bunker as not just theirs but home. You’d kick the crap out of anyone who tried to take that away from him, and you would be the last person to try to do it yourself. You still thanked him when he hung the shotguns up on the wall; you were beyond grateful. That time, he was the one who went off and quite happily.

A sob nearly tore its way out of your chest when you saw his handwriting on one of the papers. Your fingertips traced each letter. How could he really be gone?

You ran your fingers over an open file, wondering what he had been looking at, when you heard the clicking of nails on the floor behind you. You spun, lifting your gun, to find Sam standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes as a dog appeared beside him. That must have been what you’d heard. You lowered the gun and let out a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

You winced internally at your question. He had every right to be here, this was his home. You were the intruder.

“The monitoring system we set up… I was alerted that someone was in the Bunker. I locked it down and I know only he and I had the keys, so I didn’t know if…” You watched as he compulsively swallowed.

You turned back to the desk. “I get that. Where were you, by the way? Why did you lock it down?” He didn’t answer for a moment when you glanced over your shoulder at him, seeing his gaze glued to the ground. “Sam?”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he swallowed again. “I was on my way to Austin. For a case. But then…” He gestured towards you. “I turned around and headed back to see.” You noticed he didn’t mention why he had locked the Bunker down but then again, he didn’t really need to. Who else would be coming here now that Dean, Cas, and Jack were gone? Mary was gone as well as most of the other hunters you’d worked with over the past couple of years. Apocalypse World Bobby was still up in Minnesota somewhere. Apocalypse World Charlie and Stevie had moved East, choosing to retire after what happened with Chuck temporarily disappearing everyone. Garth and Bess still lived in their home with their family. Jody and the girls had their own operation up in Sioux Falls with Donna lending a hand every now and then. And you…well, you never told Sam where you were.

You gave him a slow nod and dropped your eyes back down to the desk, running your fingers over the pages of an open lore book Dean had been reading. It was probably ridiculous but you thought maybe you could somehow still feel him here (though you did not want him to be a ghost), that perhaps by touch or sight or smell even that you could somehow connect to what his last days had been like. You wondered if he somehow knew deep down or if he hadn’t seen it coming. Even though he had always told you that he didn’t see a good ending for himself down the road, that he was forever bound to this life, you knew he also secretly fantasized about his life going in a different direction, one he’d included you in once upon a time. You then wondered if there was a girl somewhere who was either waiting for a phone call she would never get or was crying her eyes out because Sam had given her the news like he had you. It hurt to think that maybe he had found someone that he envisioned another future with instead of you, with someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Chuck hadn’t inserted into his life as a manipulation or a story device. Someone that he didn’t question what he had with them, if it was real. Though at the same time, you hoped he found a little piece of happiness. You still loved him enough to want that for him.

You briefly closed your eyes in pain when you remembered that last night you spent with him, telling him you loved him. You truly meant it and even though he hurt you again and again, you still did. You forced the thought away and instead chose to focus on the open book in front of you. “What was he working on?” You choked out, quietly clearing your throat once you heard how rough your voice sounded.

You turned the page, seeing mentions of witches and vampires, when you realized Sam never answered you. You glanced back at him, arching your brows in question.

Sam’s eyes were wide and laser focused on your body, his mouth hanging open. Shit.

You should’ve known that despite the dark clothing you were wearing, the long black coat you were sporting, turning away from him, that you wouldn’t be able to hide your secret much longer. Truthfully, it wasn’t even something you’d thought about when you set out for the bunker. Had Sam been here when you arrived, he probably would have seen it then.

You turned towards the younger Winchester and Sam’s eyes flickered up to you. “Are you…?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, glancing back and forth between you and your protruding belly. You read the clear question in his eyes that he was burning to ask.

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

Except the few times he’d been close to death, you’d never seen Sam look so pale.

You and Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, Miracle (as you’d come to find out was the dog’s name) laid at your feet, his head on his paws.

“How?” Sam finally asked you.

You snorted in amusement. “You know how.”

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you tell Dean? Did you tell Dean? Because he didn’t tell me and I don’t think that’s something he wouldn’t have told me.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sadness wrap around you once more. “No. I didn’t tell him,” you whispered. It was now the biggest regret of your life, right before the second biggest one of you walking out of the bunker the morning you’d last seen him and not fighting harder to get him to let you back in.

“Were you ever going to?”

Your eyes snapped to Sam at the judgment clear as day in his tone and they narrowed. “No, I wasn’t. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me or anything related to me. So, no, Sam, I wasn’t,” you snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his lap.

You turned your gaze forward again, taking a breath to tamp down the familiar anger and resentment that you’d worked so hard to try to let go of. After a moment, you rubbed at your forehead. “Yes,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I think so…”

Sam stayed quiet and let you sort through your thoughts which you were grateful for. You’d been caught completely off guard by the pregnancy yourself. When you found out, you thought back to how you unwisely didn’t take your usual precautions and since you and Dean had broken up long before that, you hadn’t been too concerned with maintaining your birth control.

You’d thought over your options. Bringing a kid into the hunting lifestyle was the worst thing you could do to it. Dean and Sam were living proof. Their mom herself had known it which was why she tried to get out when she married their dad. Not to mention, it would make you vulnerable in your line of work and the kid would always be in danger, always have a target on its back. Plus, you were pretty sure that even if you told Dean, he’d be less than thrilled. He always told you he didn’t want kids, for the very reasons you were now facing. And did you really want to bring a kid into the world that Chuck was about to end, only to have a father who was dismissive of it, or even hated it? You didn’t think Dean would be capable, he’d been great with Jack and Ben after all, but this was different. This kid would have his blood, his genes, would look like him somewhat. Sure, he had that in Emma once and that had torn him up, but this would also be different. This was for the long haul. And that’s only if he even wanted to be in this kid’s life. Which he might opt not to. How could you do that to your child? So you considered choosing to end the pregnancy, which would have been a true mercy given everything stacked against it before it would be born, but eventually you decided otherwise.

You’d heard the baby’s heartbeat on a checkup while you were still mulling it over, and that was it. Dean wanted to know if what you had was real or not? Here it was, its little heart thumping away deep within your body. After that visit, you’d decided the hell with it. You were someone who believed everything happened for a reason, well before things with Chuck went bad though you still operated on this age-old belief most of the time. You were having a kid, one who would be half of you and half of Dean, the love of your life for all intents and purposes. Though it had hurt when he dismissed you that morning, perhaps this had been the reason why he called you out of the blue, wanting you to come to him, and why you went despite knowing what would most likely happen and how much pain it would cause you.

So you made a decision to start pulling out of hunting. Donna rented her family cabin in Hibbing to you. Bobby hadn’t been back since Mary died so it was sitting empty and unused. You hid the pregnancy as best you could but ultimately, once the first trimester was over and you had popped, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Donna found out though she never knew who the father was. She didn’t pry which you appreciated. When she called you to warn you that Billie was making people disappear left and right, a familiar fear clawed at your chest. Not only fear for your child but also the fear of what if Dean found out about it. That was the only thing that kept you from offering to come down to Kansas to help.

“We’re going into some place warded to protect us. You should do the same. I can send you pictures of the sigils they’re using.”

“Okay, thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. You just stay safe in the cabin. You and…well, you know.”

You appreciated her staying discreet when you heard Sam’s voice in the background. “I will. Thanks, D.”

“You betcha. Talk soon.”

You hung up and Donna did indeed send you the pictures. You did your best with what you had but it didn’t matter in the end. The last thing you remembered was painting a sigil on the window and then everything went black. The next thing you knew, you were back at the window, your finger extended towards the glass, the half-finished sigil staring back at you. You noticed the sun was in a different position in the sky than it had been and you immediately grabbed your cell phone. Two days had passed. How?

It hit you then what happened and you dropped the phone with a cry, immediately grabbing at your stomach. You ran for the machine Jody had shipped to you after Donna told her. At the time you’d been annoyed, but right now, you couldn’t be happier at the sheriff knowing about your pregnancy once your baby’s heartbeat echoed throughout the bedroom. You let out a huge sigh of relief, rubbing your belly affectionately. “We had quite a scare there, didn’t we, kiddo?”

It dawned on you then that while you had vanished, you were back, baby and all. Did that mean everyone else was back, too? You went back downstairs for your cell phone and immediately called Donna. Yep, everyone was back, they had all disappeared, and it wasn’t Billie but Chuck who had done it. You asked after Dean and Sam and that was when she told you about Cas and then Jack. You knew both brothers would be devastated, especially Dean, and you considered breaking your radio silence to call him. However, you chickened out at the last second and called Sam instead to check in.

It’s not that a part of you didn’t want to tell Dean he was going to be a father, it was that you were scared of what would happen when you did. Originally, you had feared that he would turn his back on you completely, more importantly on his kid, but now you were worried that maybe it would be the exact opposite. While you would be happy for him to be actively involved in your child’s life as its dad, you also knew Dean. He would try to resume things between you, make it work for the kid’s sake. Just look at how long he tried to make it work with Lisa for Ben’s sake. Not that he didn’t love her and he ended up leaving to protect them, but even Lisa knew his heart wasn’t in it. While that had been for different reasons involving hunting and Sam’s reappearance in his life, he still tried to make it work. But as he’d told you, the family thing didn’t work for him, and besides he already had a family with Sam, Cas, and Jack. You hadn’t missed how he didn’t include you in that group; you supposed you should’ve known then.

You didn’t want him to fake wanting to be with you just to give your kid some semblance of a family life that Dean himself hadn’t really had. You didn’t know if you could take him forcing himself to kiss you goodnight before turning his back on you every single night. Or forcing a smile when he’d come home after a long day and you were the first thing he saw when he stepped inside. It was a ridiculous fear to have, you knew that, and you should be stronger than this — you were stronger than this. Not to mention, you knew you were being selfish and not at all fair to your baby or Dean. But the images kept replaying over and over in your mind, making you flinch, and you told yourself you’d tell him the next day. The next day turned into next week, then the next month. Before you knew it, you were in your third trimester and you were getting a call from his younger brother to inform you of his untimely death.

Maybe that’s really why you raced down here from Hibbing. Maybe that’s why you wanted to see for yourself that he was gone. Not only to confirm that the man who had your heart was gone for good, but also so you could tell him, hoping he might hear it wherever he now was. Or maybe by some act of mercy Jack could relay it to him, wherever Jack was. It was cowardly, you were a coward, and you hated yourself for it. You knew you should have told Dean months ago, after you found out that he and Sam had beaten Chuck, Jack was in charge of the universe now, and the world was not coming to an end anytime soon. Regardless, you couldn’t turn back the clock.

A tear escaped that you quickly wiped away, not caring if Sam saw or not. “You know, when you first told me about Dean, I considered a demon deal.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “No! That’s not what he would want! No!”

You held out a placating hand. “I know. I’m not going to do that.” He seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “I can’t, anyway.” You motioned to your bulging stomach. “I couldn’t do that to my kid. Only be around for 10 years and then poof, I’m gone? Even if it had Dean, if Dean wanted it that is, it’s still terrible to do that to a kid.” You winced slightly when you realized you were saying this to Sam Winchester of all people.

“Dean would’ve wanted it,” he assured you quietly.

You grimaced and dropped your gaze down to the dog who was staring up at you. “Maybe.” You reached down to pet his head.

Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would’ve.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words, when you murmured, “Is there any way to get him back?”

Sam let you go and his hazel eyes began to shimmer. “No,” he choked out. “I, uh, checked with Jack and he said it was his time. So…no.”

“What?” You snapped, getting to your feet. “After everything you’ve done for that kid? He just—”

Sam got to his feet, tenderly cradling your shoulders. “I know. I didn’t want to hear it either but…Jack’s right.” Your jaw dropped, ready to let some f-bombs fly (which you usually tried to avoid since the baby could now hear you), when Sam’s hands moved up to your face, trying to get you to listen. “He was ready to go. Jack confirmed it. Dean’s in Heaven and he’s at peace.”

Tears were on the edge of falling when you heard that. “He’s in Heaven?”

Sam nodded, a tear making its way down his cheek. “Yeah. He is.”

If Dean was in Heaven…well, then that was some consolation at least. Just when he thought he’d never make it there thanks to his being a demon for a short stint, being killed by a Hell Hound, and everything that had occurred over the years — even some of the things he’d done. But that also meant he was gone, for good this time. It was confirmed; he wasn’t coming back. It hit you like a freight train and it punched a huge hole in your chest. You felt as if you were falling, falling, and would never stop. Dean was…gone. “Then he’s…”

“He’s gone,” Sam confirmed. “He’s not coming back.”

Your knees buckled and you nearly fell, Sam thankfully having caught you. You heard a wailing sound but you had no idea where it was coming from until you felt it ripping its way out of your body. Sam gingerly picked you up in his arms and moved you onto the bed. You were violently sobbing and you barely noticed Sam holding you, gently rocking you back and forth, his own tears falling into your hair. Miracle had jumped up and laid next to you, whining quietly and trying to shove his head under your hands, rubbing his body carefully against your belly.

There was no way. No way that this was real. This had to be a nightmare. But when you heard Sam sniffle above you, choking out, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, it’s going to be okay,” you knew that it wasn’t. Memories of Dean’s face, his laugh, his smiles, his touch, his scent, the way he looked at you when you’d both been happy together, his kisses, the way he felt like home in a way that no other person or place ever could, the way he made you feel safe — all of it smashed over you like a tidal wave and it didn’t let up. Dean Winchester, the man you’d loved with all of your heart, the man whose child you now carried inside of you, was gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dean had just pulled the Impala over at a beautiful spot, where you could see nature’s beauty for miles. He rested back against Baby and marveled at it all. There was even a double rainbow that showed up and Dean chuckled, knowing that had to be Jack’s doing considering there hadn’t been any rain. Then he wondered if it did rain at all. How did things like that work up here anyhow?

He was still enjoying the view when Jack popped in next to him.

“There he is.” Dean grinned and went to give him a hug before he thought better of it. “Am I still allowed to…you know?”

Jack smiled. “Of course. I like hugs.”

Dean laughed and embraced him tightly. “Thanks, kid. For everything you did up here, I mean. Bobby told me.” He pulled back, clapping his shoulder in thanks. “So, where’s Cas?”

“He’ll be along shortly but first, I need to show you something.”

Dean’s brows furrowed but he shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and next thing Dean knew, he was back in his old room at the Bunker. “Whoa,” he whispered, thinking Jack and Cas had built the Bunker just for him. He would be able to wait for Sam here, in his home. He hoped the TV in the Dean Cave worked and that he still had access to his music. Baby’s radio had worked so he had high hopes. He was about to thank Jack when his eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in his bed. Well, two someones.

He glanced towards Jack who gave him a subtle nod, silently encouraging him to get closer. Dean shot him a confused look but did move closer. When he caught sight of you, his heart dropped into his stomach. Even being dead, he felt the same exact thing he felt the last time he had seen you. You were the one who got away, or more appropriately, the one he pushed away.

Sure, he’d been confused when he found out everything in his life was a lie when Chuck revealed himself to be a giant dick, but he did love you. He had such trouble reconciling the two: what he knew to be true and what his mind was telling him. No other romantic relationship had worked out for him, all two of them prior to you, and now he knew why. Chuck liked him better on his own, being the guy with no strings attached and rolling through town to save the girl, kill the monsters, get thanked, and move on his way. The only other person Chuck liked having in the Impala regularly was Sam. You, well, you he hadn’t seen coming and after the Big Bad Chuck reveal, he had to wonder why.

He had never meant to hurt you, though he couldn’t seem to stop from doing it. If things weren’t real between you all of this time, he didn’t want to keep pretending like they were. That wasn’t fair to either of you and he certainly didn’t want to continue stringing you along when his heart was no longer in it like it used to be. So he let you go, as painful as it was and as wrong as it felt, he did the right thing by you. Then that night he’d called you out of the blue, he’d been torn up about Cas’ revelations about Jack’s actual role in Billie’s plan, how badly he wanted Chuck gone, and how while he didn’t want to sacrifice the kid, he wanted his and Sam’s freedom more. Without thinking, he’d picked up the phone and dialed you. He shocked himself when he asked you to come over after hearing you weren’t that far away, and you shocked him even more when you agreed.

Dean hadn’t planned for you two to be intimate, but once you were there, right in front of him, it hit him hard how much he missed you, missed what you had together. So he made a move and you let him. He’d put everything he had, everything he felt but couldn’t tell you, into this stolen moment in time between you. And then the next morning, he thought it had all been a dream until he turned his head and saw you laying there, hair adorably disheveled, sheet covering you, doing something on your phone. It briefly reminded him of the many mornings he’d woken to find you in this exact same position, already up after a wild night, searching for cases. He wanted to bask in the comfort and familiarity for a moment longer, but when you turned and smiled at him, greeting him like you always had, he started kicking himself internally. He didn’t want you to think that this meant things would change when he knew they wouldn’t. He was being unfair to you and it wasn’t right. He’d been a selfish bastard and now he had to go into dick mode which would hurt you again. And sure enough, he knew he did when he saw your face fall as he easily dismissed you, not once but twice. He winced at the memory; he certainly didn’t blame you for not taking his calls or returning his voicemails after that.

The truth was that while he had initially been confused about his feelings for you and their validity, he knew he cared deeply about you and the most important thing was keeping you safe. He didn’t want you involved in the Chuck showdown, which is why he rudely dismissed you that morning, making up an excuse of a case in Duluth, something he knew you’d go along with. After watching you leave, as the door closed behind you, his heart fell into his stomach and he felt about three inches tall. He hated hurting you, hated pushing you away, but he knew it was for the best. You needed to be safe; not a target for Chuck.

After Chuck had been defeated and Jack took over, Dean realized in those months that he’d been a grade A idiot when it came to you. Sure, he’d been a cold dick, but he also had been a complete dumbass. He still loved you and he missed the hell out of you. What you had together had been something special that he stupidly threw away. There were quite a few nights after quite a few drinks, he’d picked up his phone and hovered over your number but he never actually called it. How could he even think of asking you to forgive him and give him another chance? After everything he’d said and done? He truly was a selfish bastard.

When he didn’t call, he then switched over to all of the photos and videos he had taken of you and both of you together. As he heard your laughter, saw both of your smiles, watched how you looked at him and the affection you’d shown him, he continued drowning his sorrows. He wanted so much to talk to you, to apologize and explain, and ask if he could come see you, but he never let himself ask. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that.

Now, here you were, asleep on his bed, Miracle curled up next to you. Staring down at you, he wondered how the hell he had ever let you go. And now, he’d never get to hold you again, feel your touch, or even share a conversation with you ever again. Even though Dean was at peace with his fate, regret languished within his chest the more he studied your face. He reached out to brush some hair back over your face but sadness overwhelmed him when he realized he couldn’t even do that small simple touch. Not anymore.

Dean’s eyes narrowed when he noticed an arm curled around you, almost protectively, pinning you to another body. His gaze traveled up that arm to find his younger brother, asleep right behind you. That surprised him but he quickly put two and two together. You must have gone to the Bunker when Sam called you to tell you the news and here you were, in Dean’s room, asleep on his bed with his dog. And while he didn’t begrudge you or his little brother some comfort you both might need, he didn’t like the look of that embrace or that Sam’s face was buried into the back of your neck.

Dean glanced back down at the arm, seeing Miracle staring right up at him. He couldn’t help but smile at the canine who had been his companion for months before he died. “Hey, boy,” he whispered, not sure if he would be heard or not but not wanting to startle you if he was. “How are you?”

Miracle didn’t seem to react at first, not until he got up and moved closer, wagging his tail. Dean went to try to pet the dog, hoping he could at least touch the animal, but he never got that far. His eyes zeroed in on just what Miracle’s body had been blocking.

His wide eyes flicked up to you, to Sam, back to you, and back to your fairly large and round stomach. The hell with being heard and possibly scaring you two. He glanced back to find Jack watching him. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m aware of that,” he growled. “But what—”

Just then, Cas popped in next to Jack. When the angel saw Dean, he offered a soft smile. Dean felt himself relax slightly and a part of him wanted to go hug the angel but another part of him was nervous to. Plus, he really wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shifted his eyes towards Jack, his jaw tightening. “What the hell are you showing me?”

Cas glanced towards the bed, realization lighting his features, before he turned to Jack as well.

“The present,” Jack simply answered.

Dean cursed under his breath, not caring that both Cas and Jack could hear him. “The present of what? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like some time has passed.” He gestured towards your stomach. He tried not to be angry with you or Sammy, he really did, but dammit, his brother knew how he felt about you! Him dying didn’t change that! Besides, Sam had something going with Eileen last he knew, whatever happened to that?

“What you’re seeing is a few days after your death.”

Surprise ran through Dean at that revelation. So, this wasn’t some screwed up future scene he was witnessing? His eyes roamed over you, coming to rest once again on your stomach. You were very pregnant, looking as if you might be ready to pop any day now, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear; there was no way the baby was Sam’s. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from him that long and he just didn’t see you or Sam going behind his back like that while he was alive. You were pissed at him, maybe even hated him, but you would never do that to him. Nor would Sam. The only answer was that you had found someone else and you were starting a family with them. Now he understood your radio silence even more. You might currently be sad at the news of his death, awash in memories in his room to where you’d fallen asleep on his bed and Sam had to comfort you, but you had truly moved on. That burned him even more. While he was happy if you were happy, knowing you’d found someone who wouldn’t break your heart and would treat you better than he ever could, a part of him was saddened by this knowledge. He knew you were too good for him, that you deserved better, but to see it confirmed in such a way, well, it was heartbreaking.

“So if she’s… Then she’s…” He couldn’t even put it into words; it hurt too much.

Jack clasped Dean’s shoulder. “The child is yours, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t alive anymore but if he had been, his heart would have stopped. He turned to Jack, shocked. “What?”

“You’re going to be a father,” Jack supplied, letting him go.

“But…how?” Dean’s gaze fell on you once more.

Cas suddenly appeared on his other side. “You don’t remember how you conceived the child?”

“What? No, I just…”

“Dean,” Jack called.

When he turned to look at the new God, the latter held up a glowing finger to him that almost reminded him of that movie E.T. “What are you gonna do with that? Check my temperature?” Speaking of E.T., hadn’t that been one of the last movies picked for movie night before the Chuck showdown?

Jack smiled and touched the finger to his forehead. Within seconds, Dean was reliving every single moment between you two:

…When you’d met.

…When he decided he’d liked you while you decided you didn’t like him too much.

…His constant flirting and trying to win you over.

…Your begrudging friendship that then grew into something more.

…Your relationship.

…Your breakup.

…All of the times you’d been in pain because of him.

…That last night.

…The next morning.

Then the memories shifted to yours from after that morning:

…You finding out about the pregnancy a couple of months later.

…Your hemming and hawing over calling him to tell him.

…Your fears.

…When you’d vanished with everyone else.

…Your panic upon your reappearance.

…The time you spent getting ready to retire from hunting and set up a normal life in Hibbing while preparing for the baby.

…The call from Sam with the news of his death.

…Your regret at not telling him about his child and your drive down here.

…Your conversation with Sam.

…Your collapsing in grief at finally realizing that he was gone and not coming back.

All of it that led to the scene he was witnessing now. He felt everything you felt, heard every thought, saw every tear, every smile.

By the time Jack pulled away, Dean’s eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure how he was able to produce tears as a dead man but he did. Not only did he feel how deeply he’d hurt you, but he also felt just how deeply you loved him. He already knew he’d been an idiot when it came to you, but he really had no clue before this just how incredibly stupid he’d been. It had always been real between you. That hadn’t been Chuck. Not by a long shot.

Dean discreetly wiped his eyes. “Send me back.” His tone was firm and he wasn’t really asking.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but your time on Earth is up.”

Dean turned a menacing glare onto Jack. New God or not, he didn’t care. “She’s having my kid and she needs me. They both need me. Sam, too. After everything I’ve done for this world, you owe me.” Jack stared him down, unbothered by the taller man’s attempt to make demands. “Now I appreciate the Fixer Upper: Heaven Edition, I really do, but I should be with them. I deserve a shot at this and you know it.”

Jack mused on that for a moment before staring up at Dean sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

Dean scoffed. “Then why bother showing me any of this? Why bother telling me that it’s my kid she’s about to have? What’s the point, dammit?”

“You were afraid that you had left nothing behind of value, except Sam and your beloved car. Afraid that your life hadn’t amounted to anything in the end. No matter how many people you saved, no matter how many connections you made, no matter what good you did. ” Jack gestured towards you. “It did amount to something. You are leaving behind something, something important. A legacy,” Jack gestured to your stomach. “A family,” he waved his hand over you and Sam.

Dean’s jaw clenched and he ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes. “So this was just to show me what I can never have. The girl, the kid, the life…that’s just aces,” he muttered.

“No, Dean,” Cas spoke up. “What Jack is trying to explain is—”

“--your life amounted to more than you thought it had,” Jack finished.

Dean watched as Miracle went back and curled up against your belly once more, his head on his paws as he watched the scene in front of him. The corner of Dean’s lips tipped up into a smile. It was almost as if the dog knew it was his kid in there. And he was determined to protect it in Dean’s absence. His smile faded though when he thought of how he wouldn’t be able to see his kid, at all. He’d had enough of this. “That’s great. Appreciate the pep talk, fellas. Now, if you could send me back so I can actually raise my legacy and take care of my family, that’d be much appreciated.”

Jack and Cas exchanged a glance. Dean knew he wasn’t winning this one but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying. “It’s not your time yet,” Jack answered cryptically.

Dean’s head snapped in his direction. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that now your time is in Heaven, not Earth. And it’s best if you return to it.” Before Jack could snap his fingers, Dean held up a hand.

“Whoa, wait! That’s it? You’re not even gonna let me stick around to see what I’m gonna have?”

Jack smiled once more. “You’re going to have a son. A strong, healthy son.”

Dean reeled from that information. “A son?” He choked out.

Jack gave him a happy nod and held his fingers up again.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Jack. Why can’t I stick around?”

“You know what happens to ghosts, Dean. Besides, you’ve already been admitted to Heaven.”

“But you can do something about that, right? Like bring me back?” When Jack didn’t respond, Dean became desperate. “At least let me check in on them every now and then or something! You’re telling me you can’t even do that? You’re freaking God!”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not an angel, Dean.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “But I am.” Cas stretched out his wings that were a lot brighter than Dean remembered. If he wasn’t dead, he was pretty sure he would at they very least be blinded from the brightness right about now. “I can take him back when he’s ready and I can escort him on any future visits.”

Dean was shocked but also beyond grateful at Cas’ offer. While they hadn’t spoken yet about how things were left between them before The Empty took away the angel, he couldn’t imagine it would be easy for Cas to watch as he pined over someone else, as he watched his kid grow, but Dean was grateful all the same.

Jack appeared to think this over before meeting Cas’ intent gaze. “You will make sure to bring him back each time.” At Cas’ nod, Jack gave him a knowing yet affectionate smile. “I expect you to keep to the rules during these visits.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Jack then glanced over at Dean. “If you’re worried about her and your child, you don’t need to be. Sam is going to watch over them.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in your direction, his eyes shifting to Sam’s arm around you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded.

“It means that your family is going to be safe. They’re going to stick together. Sam is going to help Y/N raise your son. He won’t allow any harm to come to them.”

His jaw tightened, thinking it should be his arm over you, him behind you, him helping you raise your kid, you two together. He should be the one to take his son fishing, teach him about girls when he got older, show him how to keep Baby going, be the father his old man had the potential to be but minus a few things. He’d do whatever it took to keep the kid out of hunting, to give him a shot at a full happy life. He’d give up hunting himself in order to make it happen. And you…if you’d take him back, he’d never leave your side. Hell, he’d marry you if you let him. After Jack had caught him up to speed on everything you went through, everything you had felt and were feeling, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, letting you know every single day just how much he loved you, if only you’d let him. If only Jack would allow him to come back. It felt beyond wrong that he wasn’t there and Sam was stepping into his place. Sam shouldn’t have to; he should be able to go and build his own family with Eileen or whoever, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house, get out of hunting and go back to school — do whatever he wanted with his life. Not this.

“Dean.”

His eyes slowly lifted to Jack’s, who was a lot closer now than he had been before. He laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s as it should be. After you died, Sam was lost. She’s going to need help when the child is born.” He stared at Dean meaningfully. “They all need this.”

Dean’s gaze briefly roamed over the three of you on the bed before landing on Jack again. He thought back to his cryptic words from before. “Will I ever meet my kid? Get to see her again? Outside of Heaven?”

Jack’s expression didn’t change nor did he say anything but he squeezed his shoulder. That was the only response Dean was going to get apparently.

Dean huffed a snort and shook his head.

“I told you, Dean. There would be no more meddling with the world from on high. I will not repeat Chuck’s mistakes. Everything is as it should be.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze. No, everything wasn’t as it should be. He made up his mind then to talk to Bobby when he got back. There had to be something he could do to get back to Earth, to get back to you and Sam and the baby…to get back to you all. If he couldn’t convince Jack to send him back, he’d find some other way.

Jack released him as Cas came to stand next to Dean. “I’ll see you back in Heaven.” He then looked at Cas. “Not too long.”

Cas gave him a nod and like that, Jack disappeared, leaving the angel and the hunter alone. Dean wasn’t thinking about how that might have set them up to talk about Cas’ last words to him before dying; right now, his focus was on you.

“Cas, please…can I touch her?”

“Dean…”

“Please,” he begged. “Just one last time. I’m not gonna get to be with her or raise my kid. I just want to touch her one last time. Please, Cas.”

Cas thought it over and then moved closer to the bed, leaning down to place two fingers against your forehead. Dean’s brows furrowed when he noticed a golden glow appear from the touch. “Whoa, whoa, Cas. What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what you asked for. Y/N’s a light sleeper, like all of you hunters. If she wakes up, she could think she’s being attacked by a ghost or some other entity. I doubt you want that.” He pulled away and gave Dean a look.

“No,” Dean quietly agreed. Cas moved away to make room to let him in. Dean gingerly sat on the bed, about to touch you when he glanced up at the angel, unsure. Cas gave him a nod and Dean turned to gently run the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He felt your warm and soft skin this time when he came into contact with you and he let out a small breath of relief, sadness filling his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Had I known, I would’ve…” He supposed it didn’t really matter what he would’ve done. “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. I should be there with you now, ready to help you take care of the kid. I…” He tenderly moved your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to become a target for Chuck. And I never should’ve…” He could feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t surprised that his voice was a bit gruffer when he next spoke. “I knew what we had was real. I know I questioned it for a second there but I always knew. That’s why it was so important to me that you were safe. But it doesn’t make what I did and said okay. And I’m sorry for that.” He ran his fingers lightly over your lips, wishing he could kiss you one last time, feeling you kissing him back. “I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek that he hastily wiped away. He stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly with his thumb. “And I always will.”

Not really wanting to pull away from you but knowing he was on a time clock, he reluctantly moved his fingers away from your face and laid his hand on your belly. He couldn’t feel anything except the taut skin underneath his fingertips, but it was enough to make him smile. “Being that you’re my kid, you’re probably going to give your mom a run for her money. Try not to make her too crazy, huh?” He let out a watery sounding laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there but your Uncle Sammy is going to make sure you and your mom are taken care of. Okay? He’s going to show you how to toss a ball around, help you with your homework, all that stuff. Just do me a favor, though. Don’t let him feed you kale the whole time and don’t let him get you into his true crime podcasts. The guy is a classic nerd, don’t let him turn you into one, too.” His smile slowly faded. “Saying all that, he’s one of the best guys I've ever known and I know he’ll be good to you, be good to your mom. So cut him some slack when you get older, alright?” He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles. “Take care of your mom for me. I’ll be watching over both of you. I hope I get to meet you someday.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your stomach before sitting up and coming face to face with Miracle. The dog quietly whined and Dean gave him one last good head scratch. “You look out for them, okay buddy?” The dog whined again and Dean patted him.

“Dean,” Cas gently called.

Dean nodded and slowly got to his feet. His eyes shifted to Sam who was sound asleep, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for taking care of them, Sammy,” he whispered. He didn’t vocalize that it was only temporary, that he was hell bent and determined to find a way to get back. His eyes then landed on you and he reached out to you one last time, trailing a fingertip along the dried tear tracks on your cheek. “Cas, can we just stay until they wake up?”

“Dean, Jack said—”

“I know what Jack said,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the angel whose parted lips pressed into a thin line. Dean immediately felt sorry for snapping at him; it wasn’t Cas’ fault and he wasn’t angry with him. He softened his tone. “I just want to be here when she wakes up. That’s all.” Cas seemed to be wrestling with his request. “Please, Cas,” he begged. “I just want to see her like this, awake.” He was slightly embarrassed at admitting that to his best friend but he wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to visit again (and what he might be able to figure out to get himself back or how long it would take), and he had the strongest urge to see you up and about, walking around, pregnant with his kid. Not to mention he wanted to hear your voice one last time. “Please,” he whispered in a broken plea.

Cas stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod. “But after she wakes, we go back.”

“Thank you, Cas.” He meant it. While he highly doubted Cas would get into any real trouble on his behalf, he knew how difficult it must be for the angel to unwillingly push against Jack’s rules. Dean turned back to you, carefully sitting down next to you, caressing your face. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured. He also made you a silent promise: he would do whatever it took to get back to you. His eyes briefly roamed to your stomach. To get back to both of you. Fate and the universe and all that crap be damned.

A/N: Please don't hate me. *ducks tomatoes and eggs thrown*

Please let me know what you think. 👉👈

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ruskaroma · 9 months

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Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.

You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.

When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.

Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.

“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”

Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.

And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really.

Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.

“Hey, bunny.”

“What?”

“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”

“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”

“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”

“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”

“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”

“Haha, very funny.”

His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.

But during sex, it’s a whole different story.

Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.

“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”

“J–John–”

“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”

“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”

“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”

“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”

“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”

“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”

“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”

You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.

“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”

“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”

#john constantine #john constantine x reader #john constantine x you #john constantine x y/n #john constantine imagine #john constantine smut #john constantine fanfic #john constantine fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves imagine #my works #constantine

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raz-writes-the-thing · 2 months

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A Very Bisexual Revelation (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x (cis) Masc!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Dean Winchester's never had trouble with the ladies, but this is brand new territory for him.

Fic type: fluff, super super smut-lite

A/N: this fic is inspired a lil by Welcome To Being a Girl by @negans-lucille-tblr - that fic did something to me for real it is so so so GOOD! Everyone should read it for sure

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Dean had always been confident with the ladies. Never had a problem getting them from the lockers to his and Sam’s motel room for that week, or from the bar to the backseat of the Impala. He’d never really been that worried about his sexuality because women saw his green eyes and charming smile and practically threw themselves at him.

But that wasn’t to say that he’d never been unappreciative of the male form either. No, he distinctly remembered looking a little too long at Kev Prentiss’ abs in high school, or thinking that John King’s hands were that pretty kind of veiny that girls kind of liked- and he liked it too, but he didn’t throw himself at men, and men didn’t throw themselves at him either.

Not to mention if Dean had stopped to think about his sexuality properly for more than twenty seconds he’d be fucking terrified of his father's reaction. So, he just went about his business, elbow-deep in pussy whenever he wanted. Honestly, knowing that he could go out and bed a happily consenting woman any time he wanted meant that he didn't really think about men all that much anyway.

And then he'd met you. Very manly, very masculine. Very obviously a guy with a guys', you know, equipment. The two of you had met on a hunt way back when and been each other's unofficial back-up rock ever since when either of you needed a hand.

You didn't see each other that often. Once a year if you were lucky (or unlucky- depending on how you looked at it). Twice if you were both hunting near each other and wanted a catch-up.

It had all started as an innocent friendship, but you weren't shy about your sexuality and interest in men (among other things sometimes) and it made Dean wonder. Particularly when he was drunk late at night crashing in a hotel while you snored in the bed next to his own, hand draped over the covers and so close to his own that if Dean really wanted to- he could reach out and touch you.

With every meeting, Dean wondered. At first, just about how you managed to make hunting look so good. It was no wonder monsters, women and other men threw themselves at you when you chucked a wink their way. Then, it was how gracefully you held a rifle, or swung an axe, or decapitated a nasty vampire.

Then it was how he liked the brush of his fingers over your stubble when you both roughed each other up playfully or the feel of your warm skin under his hands as he stitched you up, muscles tensing under the pinch and pull of his needle.

And finally, he realised, well- son of a fucking bitch, he was into you. Not, like, into the way you dressed or into the way you hunted. It finally clicked one Wednesday night after hearing your half-asleep voice on the phone ranting away about a hunt nearby that he was into you in a very I'd-like-to-get-handsy-with-you bisexual kind of way. It was a startling revolution for him, and, of course, he'd been with Sam and just blurted out the sentence- "son of a bitch- I wanna fuck him, don't I?" To which Sam had snorted half his beer down his front, slapped Dean in a comfortingly condescending way on the shoulder as if this wasn't news to him and left to find himself a clean shirt and give Dean some space to wrap that new little factoid around his brain.

It was another two months before Dean saw you again. You'd called him for backup while hunting a Wendigo in the forest a little ways from where Dean had been similarly hunting a good old-fashioned ghost. Six hours, a dead wendigo and eight beers in, Dean was finally tipsy enough to do it.

"So," he said, twirling his beer on the table. Watching the base of the glass tread condensation over the warping wood of the surface, Dean hesitated to make eye contact with you. "What's it like, huh? Being... with another dude."

Beer choked its way down your windpipe. You wiped your mouth and punted your chest a couple times to clear your throat. You told him it was good, no different from being with women, really, aside from the difference in anatomy and feel of it all.

Dean hadn't mentioned it after that. You'd both downed a couple more beers and stumbled back toward the motel room. You'd stumbled with the key for a moment, probably scratching up the lock a little more. Once you'd both stumbled through and Dean had discarded his coat over the back of the mysteriously stained chair by the rickety desk. Rubbing over his stubble, Dean decided he was not going to staying in anything less than a three-star joint from here on out.

"Can I, uh- can I try somethin'?" Dean asked awkwardly, and before you even had the agreement completely off your tongue, his lips were on yours. You jerked in surprise, having not expected this in the slightest, and then he was gone a second later, turned away from you and you could tell- ready to bolt for the door.

"Sorry, fuck-" Dean said, already reaching for his coat and taking a step for the door. You stopped him, had him turn around and face you.

"Do not apologise," you said forcefully, trying to get the words through the haze of panic you could see taking hold of his features. You brushed a hand over his cheek and encouraged him to make eye contact. "Wanna tell me what that was about, stud? Not that I'm complaining."

"Stud, heh," Dean chuckled nervously at the nickname you'd had for him for years now- noting the new more sultry tone the affectionate nickname had taken. "Listen, I- you know me. No bad luck with the ladies, but I've never, uh- you know."

You arched your brow, waiting for him to finish the sentence. It became pretty clear pretty quick that he was going to continue stumbling over his words unless you put him out of his misery.

"Kissed a dude?" You supplied. Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times, a very fine dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks before he nodded, averting his eyes. You eyed him carefully before adding- "Hmm. I know it was pretty short-lived, but- what did you think?"

"I mean- it was good. Yeah, great. No, good- good stuff," he sort of answered, that fine dusting growing just a shade darker.

"Dean, darling," you said, voice dropping an octave in your very best attempt at flirting. "Do you want to do it again? Hmm? Do you want to kiss me, pretty boy?"

Dean's breath hitched, his perpetually creased brows smoothing out in shock. Oh, he's been flirted with, sure. But not like this. Once you realised this, it was as if you'd been struck down with divine motivation. You stepped towards him, crowding him with your very masculine and very intentional energy.

"Yes," Dean whispered, plush lips parting to let bated breath through. "God, yes."

That was all you needed to hear, your hand twisting around to hold the back of his neck and bring him closer. He put up no fight as you pressed your lips to his, nibbling at the soft skin. If you didn't know better, it almost sounded like Dean whimpered in response to it before he kissed back, surging forward.

You stepped back, allowing him to crowd you against the end of the bed. Your ass hit the mattress and Dean was crawling on top of you faster than you could blink, fingers trailing over your tee and following the curve of your body up and over your chest, up your neck to cup at your jaw.

It was your turn now to be speechless, hands curling around Dean's hips and giving a soft squeeze. Dean grunted into your mouth, barely breaking away long enough to take a breath before he was back on you.

Dean kissed you like his life depended on it. Years of repressed sexuality all coming out in one kiss. You didn't mind that he'd taken control. In fact, you'd kind of expected it. Dean didn't like to take anything lying down. Especially not something he was nervous about. This was a whole new world for him. It made sense he'd want to keep control over that.

His lips moved over yours, nipping at your own and trailing over your cheeks, neck and back up to your mouth once again. He licked at your lip, requesting access which you granted greedily, tongue playing with his. Dean moaned into your mouth, hips rolling over your own.

You pulled away to catch your breath and Dean leaned above you with a smile that mixed cockiness and vulnerability in such a way that you'd never seen it before, but you wanted to see it again. God, you'd love to see Dean fucked out and boneless. You wanted to really see him let go.

"Been wanting to kiss you for a long time, stud," you said, squeezing Dean's hips. The man in question, puffy-lipped and red-cheeked, chuckled.

"Yeah, me too, handsome," he said, voice low with desire. Then, he added, more to himself than you, "shit- maybe I am gayer than I thought... Huh... who knew?"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean x reader #jensen ackles #masc reader #dean winchester x masc!reader #masc!reader #spn x masc!reader

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misslavenderlady · 5 months

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The Lost Boys - Former/Human Names

We only know the boys on a first name basis, but long ago they had entirely different identities. Here is what they were known as when they were human 🦇

Peter David Williams Jr. 🖤

If you've read my post about the human lives I've come up for each of the boys, you'll know I said that David was a junior that went by his middle name. He had a very cold and distant relationship with his parents, so he wanted his own identity, not that of his father.

His first name, Peter, was his father's. It's inspired by the character of Peter Pan, of which The Lost Boys is particularly inspired by. Being that he's the leader of The Lost Boys, it only seemed fitting that David's real name would reflect on that.

The surname Williams has gotten passed around a bit in the fandom as David's last name. This is quite fitting as it could represent how he's a man of "will", fighting for his desires.

Marcello Romano 💚

According to Alex Winter himself, Marko never told anyone his real name. Not even the other boys.

In my background story for him, Marko went on the run after he brutally murdered his mother's killer. He lived on the streets for the remainder of his human life until he met David. Being too heartbroken over his mother and too scared of the consequences for taking a life, he told David that his name was "Marco" as a coverup. As far as he was concerned, Marcello Romano no longer existed. When he became a vampire, he was reborn.

When they eventually went back to America, he changed the spelling to Marko and learned to hide his Italian accent.

Marcello means "little warrior", relating to Markos fighting spirit. Romano refers to "of Rome" which is where he was originally from.

Diwane Greyeyes/Dwayne Rivers ❤️

Dwayne is an interesting one because he actually has TWO different human names. One from his time living with his mother's tribe and one living in New York with his father's family.

His father was an outsider who joined the Wyandot tribe his mother was apart of. He learned a lot about their culture and language but sometimes got things mixed up. When Dwayne was born, his mother mentioned the help of the Arendiwane (which is the Wyandot name for the medicine people). His father mistook this as a name and used part of the word to name his first child. Diwane.

The surname Greyeyes comes as inspiration from John W. Greyeyes, a leader and lawyer of the Wyandot tribe. He was buried in the same place Dwayne himself was born.

When his family had to move across the country to New York, his father knew they couldn't use their current identities. It would make them targets for mistreatment and prove to be extra difficult for finding good jobs. So the spelling of his first name was changed to "Dwayne" while his surname was changed to the westernized version of his father's (from Rivera to Rivers).

Paul Henry Moore 💙

Not only is Paul the only Lost Boy to come from a wealthy family, but he's also the only one to not have changed his name at some point. Though he was happy to just go by his first name, as he wanted not to do with the memory of his incredibly abusive family.

The full name is inspired by William Henry Moore, a famous financer who was one of the business owners that merged with Carnegie Steel, which is the industry of which Paul's family got their riches from. Growing up, his parents would call him "Paul Henry" if he was in trouble (which happened a lot).

Ironically, Moore did have a son and a grandson named "Paul".

#the lost boys #lavender lady rambles #lavender headcanons

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sammysmaddy · 5 months

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Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part Three

Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.

Characters: Sam x Sister!Reader, mentions of Dean x Sister!Reader, mentions of OFC!Jordan x Drugged!Reader, mentions of John x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluffyish beginning, incest, handjob, arousal from traumatic events, manipulation, praise kink (not really, just Sam is always positive lol), talks about drugged!reader

W/C: 2.5+

A/N: Short n cute. I love Sam Winchester with all of my heart. Also, just graduated uni so I apologize for the delay! I plan to post updates for Normal a lot more often :)

Normal Masterlist

Masterlist

Waking up in Dean's arms was something you didn't experience often, but when it happened- you cherished it as much as you could.

Normally, you would share a bed with Sammy because John and Dean were on hunts. When John and Dean were home, you shared a bed with John so that it would be less noticeable when you two sneaked out.

On the rare occasion that Sam and John went on a hunt, you got the pleasure of sharing a bed with Dean. This morning was just as blissful as every morning waking up in his arms.

There was just something about Dean that was intoxicating. Most of the time he was the big and tough soldier-guy, hunting vampires and investigating vengeful spirits, but when he was asleep he was near angelic. He was so soft and warm that you'd never be able to guess how hard-headed or strong he really was.

It's almost like his muscles would deflate into perfect pillowy headrests. His scent was a mixture of his signature aftershave and pinewood, strong and manly- but in your arms, his scent defied who he really was. Dean was a big softie, especially for family, and it felt like a privilege to wake up in his embrace.

With one arm wrapped loosely around your waist, the other supported your cheek as Dean's chin rested on the top of your head. Your face was squished into his unclothed chest and you couldn't help but nuzzle in closer, taking in every bit of him.

You tried to relish the last bit of your morning, waiting ten minutes or so before he finally awoke. As you pretended to be asleep, knowing his routine, his grip around you became tighter as he pulled you impossibly close to him.

After a few seconds of barely being able to breathe, your hand snaked its way to his back and your fingertips rubbed small circles to indicate that you were awake.

"Good morning, Y/N," Dean chuckled into the top of your head, pressing a small kiss into your hair. His voice was raspy and made you feel warmer, he was perfect.

"Morning," You smiled into his chest, pulling him closer as you felt his grip loosen around your waist. He got the hint and put the same amount of pressure as before.

"Sleep well, sweetheart?" He asked you and you nodded your head, not wanting to speak- you wanted to lay like this in silence, let him cuddle you until you passed out again. "You had a pretty big night." He chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair.

"I know," You chirped, thinking about your first party and how exciting it turned out to be.

Dean's body tensed like he had felt uncomfortable, and you frowned as he pulled himself away from you. He stayed laid on his side, but his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

"Do you remember anything?" Dean asked you, concern plastered on his face, and you just shrugged your shoulders in return.

"No, must have gotten pretty drunk," You responded, giving him a small smile as you watched his face relax.

"Yeah," He chuckled, giving you a small and cocky smirk. "I mean, how many did you have last night? Had to carry you to the car."

"I don't know. I think I blacked out or something," You crinkled your nose, not remembering too much of the night before.

"Hey, if that's the worst thing that happened, then I guess you had a pretty good night, huh?" He laughed lightly, the crinkles around his eyes more and more prominent.

"We should go to more parties. I actually made friends last night," You grinned, the warmth in your chest leaving as Dean sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Oh yeah? You even remember their names?" Dean retorted and you could practically hear his smirk.

He kicked his jeans on, standing up to button them snugly around his waist before throwing a shirt on.

"Yeah, actually I do. Lily and Jordan," You told him, sitting up and resting your back against the shitty headboard.

"Jordan ain't a friend, sweetheart," Dean shook his head, making his way to the small kitchenette within the room. He grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator, chugging all of its contents.

The motel door began to rattle aggressively as you heard the key being shoved into its hole. Sam walked into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, not bothering to look at either you or Dean.

"Hey, Sammy. How was the hunt?" Dean asked, but Sam didn't answer.

Sam ignored the question entirely, kicking his shoes off in the corner. Of course, you could tell he was upset about something.

"Where's Daddy?" You asked, looking out of the window through the broken panels.

"He left. Another hunt," Sam groaned, seemingly annoyed with the question. Dean shot you a confused look before looking back at Sam.

"Alone? He didn't ask for help?" Dean questioned, eyebrows furrowing as Sam refused to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," Sam answered simply, anger in his voice as he threw his bag onto the floor and fished out fresh clothing.

"Woah, you going to tell me why you're so upset? And why Dad couldn't stop in for a simple 'hello'?" Dean asked, annoyance present in his voice due to Sam's attitude.

"Dude, just... shut up. I'm going to take a shower," Sam snapped, sending Dean a death glare.

Dean's face slumped, his mouth opening to protest but nothing came out. Sam's footsteps were heavy and dragged as he walked away to the restroom.

"I'll go check on him," You told Dean in a small voice and he nodded his head.

Slipping out of bed, your feet hit the soft carpet and began to make their way to the restroom. You heard the shower already running and you knocked softly on the door before shaking the door handle. It was locked. Sam never locked the door.

"Sammy, you locked me out." You complained, confused as to why he was shutting you out like this.

"I know, Y/N," Sam growled on the opposite side of the door and your frown continued to stretch.

"Just let me in, please," You rattled the door handle some more. "I'm going to bother you until you tell me what's wrong." You proclaimed, banging on the door a few times, and that's all it took.

Sam opened the door, swiftly pulling you in and slamming it shut. He clung onto you like a breath of fresh air, his arms squeezing your lungs as he buried his face into your neck. Your eyebrows furrowed but your arms found their place around his unclothed waist.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" You asked in a quiet voice and his body tensed up at the question.

Sam didn't answer your question, opting instead to place wet and needy kisses on your neck. He was gentle enough to not leave love bites but assertive enough to tell you exactly what he needed.

The feeling was like none other. His lips were soft and you could feel his hands roaming up and down your back, you were in heaven. But he was upset and you almost let yourself get carried away- he needed to help you before you could help him.

"Wait, Sam," You pulled back, looking up to his sad eyes as they peered down at you. "What happened?" You asked, trailing one hand down his chest to soothe his rapid breathing.

"Please, Y/N. I need you," Sam practically whined before diving into your neck again. This time he was much softer, much less forceful, and much... sadder.

"Just tell me what's wrong first," You pushed against his chest lightly and Sam immediately huffed as his lips left your neck.

"Dad's just being a dick. Vamp nicked my arm and now he's pissed. You know how he gets." Sam explained with a sigh and you nodded your head.

Looking down, you grabbed his arm as you examined the shitty dental floss stitches in Sam's skin.

"I'm sorry," You gave him a sad smile and he shrugged his shoulders in return.

"I need you," Sam reiterated desperately while he tugged on the bottom of your nightshirt.

Sam pulled your shirt over your head, discarded the fabric on the floor, and licked his lips as he cupped your breasts in each of his hands, taking the sight of you in with each breath.

"You're so pretty." He moaned, tweaking each nipple between his thumbs and index fingers.

"Why don't you get in the shower and I'll make you feel better?" You whispered, closing the gap between the two of you while thumbing his jeans open.

Sam's lips fell to your neck, accepting your invitation with a small groan, and he helped you push his jeans down his legs. You listened to the soft thud as the denim slid down his legs and dropped down to the floor, leaving a very prominent cloth-covered bulge at your fingertips.

Your fingers hooked themselves into the waistband of his boxers, leaving small kisses on his chest as you pulled them down.

"Get in. I'll meet you in a second." You gave him a small smile and Sam nodded his head, turning around and giving you the perfect view of his body.

You could barely see your reflection due to the steam from the shower, but you didn't need a mirror to brush your teeth anyway. Using a little bit of leftover mouthwash and brushing your teeth as fast as you could, you quickly got rid of your panties and eagerly joined Sam in the shower.

Sam was already stroking himself furiously and you put a finger over your mouth to remind him to be quiet. Neither Dean nor John knew what happened in the showers you took with Sam, and for once- keeping this secret didn't bother you.

Sam nodded his head, biting his lip as he began to stroke at an excruciatingly slow pace, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

Stepping into the water closer to Sam, you looked down at your chest as you found small patches of dried something. It was something you were used to waking up with, especially when you couldn't shower after the midnight sessions with John.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about all of the possibilities that could have happened the night before- knowing that Dean took you home and Jordan didn't get very far.

You remembered everything all the way until stepping into the Impala. Everything went black after that. You never planned on lying to Dean about what you remembered, but then again- when you asked about the night before, he lied to you too.

What Dean didn't know wasn't going to kill him. You didn't even remember getting undressed or redressed into pajamas. Had to have been Dean.

"Feel this, Sammy?" You asked, bringing his free hand to touch the valley in between your breasts and smirking at him.

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion, feeling the now sticky situation on your chest.

"I went to a party last night." You told him, stepping closer, taking his length into your own hands as you pumped him slowly.

"A party?" Sam asked in return as he shuddered in your embrace.

His hands gripped tightly onto your waist as his eyes closed for a brief second, lingering in the way you were making him feel. You brought your lips closer to his.

"Mhm," You smiled, twisting your hand as it stroked Sam back and forth.

Your touch followed him as he rested his back against the shower wall, barely being hit by the pouring water.

"I met a boy, Sammy." You told him in a whisper, pulling his bottom lip lightly between your teeth before pulling back. Sam groaned as quietly as he could as you began to pump him faster, using the water to easily move your hand.

"And then what happened?" Sam asked, biting his lip in anticipation and you gave him a small smile.

Sam always loved hearing about what you and John would do the night before- mostly because he liked learning exactly what John taught you. You figured this wouldn't be any different and you were right, Sam was growing harder in your hand.

"He drugged me," You told him, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his body tensed beneath you. "It's okay, Sammy. You wanna know why?" You asked, pressing a small and passionate kiss on his lips as his cock twitched.

"Why?" Sam managed to ask quietly and you gave him a small chuckle in return, kissing him much harder as his cock continued to spasm in your grasp.

"At first I fought him," You told him, pulling back but remaining close to his lips. "And do you want to know why I stopped?" You asked, knowing Sam was trying his best not to cum at the thought of another man's hands on you.

"Why, Y/N?" Sam groaned, his lips reaching down to kiss you as his eyebrows furrowed at the imminent climax running through his veins.

"Because I saw someone watching us through the crack in the door, Sammy," You whispered in his ear, feeling how your breath made him tremble underneath you. "I don't think Dean knows I saw him."

"Dean?" Sam asked, biting his lip and trying to hold off his orgasm as long as possible. He was close and you could tell by the way his voice was shaking.

"Yep," You smiled, popping the 'p' and Sam's lips parted slowly as you continued to move your hand faster. "Dean just watched, touching himself as the other guy took off my panties. Then he stormed in like some kind of hero, pretending that he wasn't hard at the sight of me, Sammy." You told him, placing wet kisses on his chest.

At this point, you knew it would only be a few seconds before Sam came undone all over your abdomen.

"Then I blacked out and woke up with cum on my chest. There's only one person it could have been" You smiled, feeling one last final twitch before Sam's orgasm erupted.

Sam gripped tightly onto your shoulders and dipped down to kiss you to mask his moans. His cock twitched in your hand furiously as you continued to work him, feeling his climax shoot out onto your stomach.

Sam moaned into your mouth, biting on your bottom lip as he continued to spill everywhere. You smiled into the kiss, helping him throughout his entire orgasm, and letting him get slightly soft in your grip before your hand dropped ahold of his length.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're so good to me," Sam sighed in euphoria and you gave him a small smile. "You really think Dean feels like us? You think he wants you like I do?" Sam asked, biting his bottom lip.

"Maybe it's just a Winchester thing," You laughed lightly as you nodded your head.

•••

Next Part

•••

Tag List ❤️

@hobby27 @writethelifeyouwant @deeranger @deans-number-one-fan

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #spnfamily #dean winchester #dark!dean x reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #sam x reader #darkfic #dubcon #smut #dark!John x reader #dark!sam winchester x reader #dark!john #dark!dean winchester #normal

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rosedark88 · 18 days

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Lets Talk about the first time Dean punched Sam In Bloodlust

Dean is overwhelmed with anger and grieve with John death, plus the horrible secret he dumped on him” which we later find out”.

Sam seems to be on a stabler state of mind” which one on the things that never failes to impress me by Sam, handling tough situations”

They meet a fellow hunter Gordon. Dean instantly connected with him, while Sam seemed very wary of him. They argue about killing vampires, Dean thinks all monsters all the same, Sam is disagreeing rightfully so.

Dean is trusting Gorden word, Sam is upset that Dean would take the word of someone they just meet. Until this point everything Sam saidn was on a point, until he mentions that Gordern is a replacement for thier father, How ? If they are arguing about killing creatures why did Sam mention John! And more importantly why is Dean meeting a fellow hunter and connecting with him means its a replacement for John! Is Dean not allowed to have male friends Sam ?

Dean was provoked to a point where he punched Sam. Which is the first time we see this, Normal Dean punching Normal Sam, i mean they did shove each other in season one, but this is an upgrade.After the punch, Deans eyes if full of anticipation, he is waiting for Sam reaction, will they fight now ? But all Sam does is say you can hit me all you want, it wont change anything.

Sure enough Sam was right, the episode ends with Dean telling Sam he gets a free punch,Sam refuses. Which of course he will. He loves and respects Dean, he never wants to hurt him, deep down maybe he knows he pushed Dean, and no one knows Dean better than Sam, he knows his MO is lashing out. He even offered Dean in the next episode if he wants to take another swing… Poor Sam he just running out of ideas to help Dean.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #deansam #spn meta #classic spn #samdean #the winchester brothers #Spn #spn analysis #spnfandom #spnedit #spn #spn rp #spn fanart #wincest

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andreafmn · 4 months

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Bound | Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: implied/referenced SA, trauma, trauma responses, mentions of death, torture, mentions of DV

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: So, I noticed that the time span of Rosalie's kills take around a year according to Midnight Sun (which I have yet to read) which is why the timeline won't match up very well, but I think it still works... maybe... hopefully. Sorry it took so long to update this story, I honestly did not have time to keep writing it for a bit. This was meant to come out yesterday but I fell asleep 🫣🫣 Also, to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

<- Previous | Next ->

Three months had passed since the night that changed Rosalie’s life for eternity, and the Hubert brothers had been found dead. Two, since Ulysses Levitt ran out of town with a girl his family would have never approved, and the body of John Harris was found in his hotel room, asphyxiated and with a broken neck.

Word had spread through the town of a killer that was taking the lives of prominent young figures. They had ransacked through two families already, and it was rumored they had taken the Levitt son hostage, regardless of the letter left. It made families hold their young ones closer to them, hypervigilant of their every move. No one wanted their child to be next. No one wanted to weep for their child. Not even for them to go missing.

Because none of them knew that they had nothing to worry about.

Well, other than the King family. The royal family of Rochester, New York, would suffer a great loss that night at the hands of who would have been their greatest acquisition. She would take his life into her hands the way he had done with hers. He would clamor for mercy, beg for forgiveness, plead for another chance. And she would laugh in his face.

There weren’t many places Royce could hide in that Rosalie would not have found him. He could have hidden a thousand feet underground, and she would have carved at the ground with her own hands until she got to him. He would not get away from her without paying for what he had done. She was judge, jury, and executioner, and she would make sure his sentence was fulfilled.

In the Cullen residence, the other three vampires walked on eggshells around Rosalie. The anger that radiated from the girl was hot enough that any closeness could leave them burned. Even if their words and worries came from a place of concern –at least from Carlisle and Esme– she did not want to hear them. All she had time for was her revenge. There was nothing else she had to look forward to.

She didn’t want to be angry. It was an all-consuming emotion that she did not wish to impart on the family that had “rescued” her.

“Good morning, Rosalie,” Esme called the girl’s attention as she readied herself for the day. “How are you feeling today?”

“As well as I can be while my rapist’s heart still beats,” she shrugged, brushing the golden curls in her hair. “Apart from that, I guess not worse than I felt yesterday.”

“That’s good, I think,” the woman offered a smile. “Hopefully tomorrow is better.”

“Oh, it will be. Once Royce gets what’s coming for him, the universe will balance itself out. After that… well, we’ll see when we get there.”

Esme remained quiet for a moment, weighing whether or not her words were welcomed in the blonde’s space. The last thing the woman wanted was to make something snap inside the girl. She was already fragile as it was, even if she wouldn’t allow herself to be, and Esme didn’t want to be the drop of water that made her cup overflow. “May I offer you some words?” she asked against her better judgment.

“If you’re trying to get me to see how wrong it is to take a life, please save your breath,” she responded, holding in her laughter at the irony of her sentence. “Carlisle and Edward have tried, and I can tell you there is nothing you can say that will make me desist from my plan.”

“Well,” Esme sighed with a smile on her face. “Then, can I tell you about my story? I can’t say that I lived through the horrors of what you did, but I did have my own monster.” The blonde simply nodded in approval, her attention fully on the woman before her. “I didn’t envision my life turning out this way, much like you. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a school teacher. I wanted to mold the minds of my students and help them navigate this crazy world. But my parents wanted me to be the perfect wife. They wanted me to stay home and marry. And I did. I thought then that my life would be better. That’s what my parents had promised, so that’s what I believed.

“Yet, the man that I married became the monster in the fairytale my parents had designed. He was abusive. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He made me feel like I had no escape. And my parents perpetuated that behavior. They told me to keep it quiet. That no one in town would ever believe that he could do anything like that,” the woman continued. Rosalie could tell how difficult it was to tell her story. She could see the fear flashing in her eyes and the tremble in her hands as she felt the ghosts of her past creeping up her neck. And she wondered if that was the way she would look. Regardless of her impenetrable body, anyone would be able to see the pain plastered on her face. “There was some solace when the Great War passed. He was drafted, and I had months of peace. I learned that you don’t know how deep in the chaos you have gotten until you see a way out. Deep down, I hoped he never returned. It was easier to be a widow than to live the rest of my life in fear.

“But, much to my dismay, he came back once the war had ended. I knew my sentence was until death did us part. Until I became pregnant a few months after his return, and there was a new life to fight for,” Esme said. “I ran as far as I could. I needed to protect my baby, and I couldn’t do that if I was dead. He found me the first time, though. So, I ran again. For some time, I even became a teacher. For the first time in so many years, I was happy. I had fulfilled my childhood dream, and I was building my own family. But all of that ended when my baby died only two days after being born. I had changed my entire life for my son, and he had been ripped away from me in just 48 hours. With him gone, I had nothing left to live for. And well, after all that, Carlisle changed me.

“I will say that I assimilated to this life quickly. It was easy when the alternative had been so horrendous for me. But, the reason I’m telling you this is not because I just wanted you to hear my sorrowful story,” she chuckled softly. “A couple of years after I was changed, Edward grew rebellious. We didn’t have a bad life, much less a bad relationship. But he was only a year younger than you are when he was turned, and he was growing angsty with our way of life, especially our diet. He went on a rampage, finding the worst of the worst among humans using his ability. He only returned to us two years ago. But he told me who his first victim had been. It had been my ex-husband. He told me how he made sure he suffered, that he yelled for mercy, and pleaded to God to save him.

“It should have made me feel better that he was gone. That he couldn’t hurt anyone any longer, for the world had to be a better place without another monster walking in its midst. I did feel relief for a second that he could not get to anyone else, but it didn’t really matter. He had still hurt me, and his being dead didn’t change that. All I could do was try and move past it. Not forgetting what he did to me, but learning to live with it,” she explained. Esme approached Rosalie, taking her hands in hers and staring deeply into the red eyes before her. “Killing Royce won’t stop the hurt from taking over your heart, Rosalie, just as I know that killing those other four men hasn’t satiated the ire inside you.”

“Even if it won’t fix what they tore inside me, I can make sure it doesn’t happen to any other woman. At least, the ones that would have fallen victim to them if they weren’t dead,” Rosalie said through gritted teeth. There were no tears to hold back, as much as she wanted them. She wanted them to make her eyes burn with anticipation, and she couldn’t almost remember that feeling and trick herself that it was happening. But the stream never came. “I cannot let him walk free on this earth after seeing just how well he can hide the kind of monster he is. If he was going to marry me and he did what he did, I don’t want to imagine what he would do to a woman he doesn’t even know. I’m not doing this to heal anything inside me or because I am seeking inner peace. I am doing this so they can never do this again.”

Esme knew there was nothing she could say that would deter Rosalie from finishing her plan. Instead of drowning with more words, she simply smiled and told her she understood. Before leaving the girl be, she turned and said, “You should take a stroll through the garden. This summer the nightshade has sprouted beautifully.”

Rosalie stared at herself in the mirror, and the vision that stared back at her startled her. Dressed in a strikingly white dress that was as close as possible to the one she had picked out with her mother was unsettling. Much more knowing that to that day, she should have been already three months married… or three months dead.

But she was neither.

No. Her blood-red eyes reminded her that she was not married and she was stuck in a land that was not quite living but not quite dead. She was stuck as she was in a world that was no longer hers for the taking. Still, if there was one thing that was still hers, it was the ability to taste Royce’s death already.

She had found his hideout rather quickly. He had trapped himself in the basement of an abandoned bank building that was still under his family’s possession. Little did he know that in his hiding, he had given her the perfect place to rid the world of the monster he was. His soul would forever be trapped somewhere that perfectly represented him –cold, dark, and made just for money.

Everything was already going to plan. The crate of whiskey had been delivered on time and sent directly into the vault with food and other necessities. All she needed to do was wait it out for an hour. Sixty minutes to allow the paranoia to set in, for the hallucinations to fester, for all the pain and discomfort to rip its way across his body. She would allow the little plant to set her stage because she would be the main act that day.

Rosalie waited until she could not wait any longer. Until she knew his mind would have started its descent into madness. She wanted him to be trembling in his skin before she made her grand entrance.

From the bank's main lobby, she could hear Royce’s racing heart, his breathing heave, and his frantic steps. It would have been the most intoxicating song had her heart not been filled with dark hatred. His suffering meant nothing to her until it was her own hands inflicting the pain. She had to get into that room sooner rather than later.

Though Royce was her main target, she needed to get past the two men that guarded the vault door. Innocent souls that had to be reaped because of the sins of a monster. Her parents had taught her the just paid for the guilty. And in matters of love and war, all was fair. That afternoon, two souls would join the five that had shredded her own. She would grant them a quick and painless death, and go on with the rest of the plan.

And so, she snapped the men’s necks and laid them on the floor. She closed their eyes and prayed to whatever higher power that was out there to forgive their trespasses, granting them safe passage into the afterlife. There wasn’t much she believed in anymore, but she needed to believe that at least the innocent made their way to something better.

With those men out of the way, Rosalie could finally accomplish what she had to do. It’s showtime, she told herself. No turning back now.

The door wasn’t locked, only put together to give Royce the semblance of security. Not that it would have mattered. Supernatural strength and speed allowed it not to matter. Without even knowing it, Royce had written his death sentence the second he had left her for dead.

“No. No. No. No,” she heard him mutter. “It’s not my fault. It’s not. I didn’t do it.”

Delirium. Truly perfect.

“Honey,” she smiled as she burst through the door, making the entire building tremble under her strength. “I’m home.”

“No, God, please,” Royce cried as he cowered in a corner, his eyes growing as big as saucers at the vision before him. Locked inside that room, he had felt he had started to go crazy. Hidden in the shadows lived the person that had haunted his friends and was haunting him now. He knew whoever it had been was bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. What he had not expected was to see her. “How are you here? How are you showing her to me?”

“I am not a mirage, dear Royce,” Rosalie said, smoothing down her gown. It dragged behind her as she walked, the sound of the fabric swishing on the ground mixing beautifully with the sound of his racing heart. “I am actually here. Standing before you as I would have months ago.”

“But you died… I mean, you had to have died.”

“Oh, I did,” Rosalie sighed. She crossed the room elegantly, taking in how it had been transformed. An elegant bed was pressed against one of the walls, the sheets perfectly done as though no one had ever dared sleep on them. Truly, the entire place had been decorated to portray a luxury suite, like the ones in the many hotels the King family frequented. Beautiful and expensive. Much like the armchair she sat on to face the man directly. “You see, I stand before you today completely dead. Well… technically undead. I’m living, but I’m not alive, Royce. I’m what you might call a vampire now.”

“That’s not… no. That’s not possible!” Royce exclaimed, trembling. The bottle he held in his hands spilled with every shake of his limbs, soaking his shirt. “You’re a ghost. The same one that’s been haunting me for months.”

“I know you wish that were true, Royce. Because maybe then I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” he said as he cowered deeper into the corner of the room. “Why would you hurt me?”

“Oh, Royce. I knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn’t think you’d be this cretinous,” she scoffed. “Do you really think I’m here just to say goodbye? Darling, I’m here to do so much worse. I’ve already started, actually.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you can feel the way your heart is racing, how your skin has gotten clammy, and how your brain is all delirious. That was a little gift from me,” she grinned devilishly, examining the perfection of her cuticles. “I know how you can’t resist a glass of whiskey no matter the time of day, and I knew you had a few scheduled shipments of bottles. So, with the help of a beautiful blue flower and absentminded delivery boys, I was able to slip some deadly nightshade into those bottles. Hence, the reaction from your body and your delusions.”

“You poisoned me? How could you, Rosalie? I don’t deserve this.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to speak my name,” Rosalie spat. In a matter of a second, she had killed any distance between them “My name is the only thing you will never have possession of. Not anymore. And to think you have the audacity to question what you deserve.”

“But I don’t, R… I don’t deserve this,” he cried as the girl balled his shirt in her hands. “I made one mistake.”

“What you and your friends did was no mistake, Royce. It was a deliberate and brutal robbery of my innocence, of my life. It was a testament to your true character and the monster that lay beneath sheep’s clothing,” she seethed. “The worst part of it all is that I would have lived with your sins had you simply given me the life I had dreamed of. I would have let you drink until your belly was full of nothing but liquor and beer. I would have let you cheat as long as you came home to me. I would have let you take everything as long as I had my children to care for. And what a waste of a life that would have been.”

Fat tears fell from the man’s eyes, connecting with the slobber of boogers that escaped his nose, and it disgusted Rosalie to be so close to him. But it was the dangerously fast pace of his heart that thrilled her. It was the perspiration on his skin that edged her on. It was the unnatural dilation of his pupils that made her want to dance in victory.

She knew he was in pain. She knew that his body wanted nothing more than to reject the poison of the deadly nightshade, but it would never be able to. Not while she was there, witnessing the demise of the worst kind of monster.

Royce pleaded under his breath, trying to appeal to the human side of Rosalie without understanding that the part he was begging to had died that night. The humanity left inside her dwindled as she stared at the pitiful man. She couldn’t imagine a world where she had ended up with him. At least, for that, she was grateful.

“You‘ll never find love,” Royce suddenly spat, a sudden rage boiling inside him, giving him enough energy to yell at her. “Not as the abomination that you are.”

“And what is that, Royce?” She said through gritted teeth. “Because the person I thought I loved was you.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he barked. “Don’t think I don’t know about your inclinations. I saw you with my own eyes.”

“Whatever you think you might have seen will go with you in death. At least you’ll have that memory then to keep you company.”

“The title of murderer is less vile than the other name. You’re lucky I took pity on you and showed you what you were missing out on.”

“Pity? You took pity on me?” Rosalie took hold of his shirt, lifting him from the ground as though he weighed no more than a dress. “You destroyed me. You defiled me. You took my life. Whatever it is that you think you may know about me did not give you the right to do any of that.”

“I saved you first from a lifetime of embarrassment,” Royce choked, his voice trembling as fear overtook him. “Your lifestyle would have gotten you killed regardless.”

“The only lifestyle that killed me was the one where I chose you,” she spat. “You did this to me, Royce. And now you have to pay.”

She let him drop to the ground to cower into the corner. One second, the man was back to crying and begging. The next, he was clutching at his chest and groaning in pain. “Please stop this,” he groaned. His heart had started running at a desperate pace, trying its best to pump blood to his body. But his arteries were contracting as the seconds passed, and his body would start shutting down soon after. “I know you can. Just please, I promise I’ll be better. Just give me a chance.”

“You had a chance, Royce. This life. This was your chance, and you wasted it. You decided to use your one chance to be a despicable man —driven by your greediness and your ego. You could have led a long and beautiful life, but you weren’t satisfied. You wanted more and more until there was nothing left to take. Now, you won’t take anything from anyone else.”

“Please,” he sobbed, but his words came out slurred as the poison kept rushing through his bloodstream. A rash had started peeking through his clothes, burning it way through his skin. He couldn’t choose between scratching at the patches or clutching at his chest, his entire body quickly starting to betray him. “I don’t wanna die.”

“Funny,” she laughed. “I didn’t either.”

Royce didn’t take long to deteriorate. His body was already weak from a diet of fear and whiskey—and the lethal amount of nightshade that she had injected in the bottles. He had gravitated onto his bed, barely hanging on to the little life that was left in him. His lungs wheezed and his skin reddened, his limbs spasmed and his lips trembled, and his eyes never left hers.

And she stared back.

“Soon enough, you will stop breathing,” she sighed. “I’m sure you can barely feel your arms and your legs. Just like I know you’re trying your hardest to take in a single breath. Isn’t it terrifying? To lay there and feel your life slipping through your fingers, all because someone else decided that you weren’t worthy of your own life.”

“P… ple… please,” he managed to croak out. Tears stained his face, mixing with the sweat on his skin. “H-h-help… m-me.”

“It’s too late, Royce,” she smiled deviously. “Don’t you get it by now? You are dying today. You will lay there and suffer and beg. And then, you will die. Not because it’s justice for what you did to me. But because no one else in this Earth will ever have to meet a monster like you. And I will stay and watch until you take your last breath.”

And so, he begged. Royce begged until the lack of oxygen forced his eyes shut.

And Rosalie watched. She watched until he took his last, wheezing breath.

Once she could not hear his heart beating anymore, she spared him one last close-up glance. She stood over him and looked over his corpse, wondering who it would be that would find his body. What would they think happened? The easiest explanation would be a heart attack, but the bodies in front of the vault would paint a different story. It wasn’t because she was worried she’d be caught –there was no way she ever would be– but rather because she wondered what plot would be spun to glorify Royce’s life and condemn his killer. And she was absolutely certain they would never believe a woman had been the one to kill him, let alone the other six men.

“Rot in hell, Royce,” Rosalie whispered against his ear. “Say hi to your friends for me.”

The girl thought she had merely spent an hour or two inside the bank, but as she slipped back into the alley, she noticed that the morning had come and gone, and the moon had started to peek its way out on the horizon. She quickly changed out of the wedding dress, ripping it from her skin as if it was suffocating her. Her lungs ached for a breath they didn’t need as something deep inside her snapped. It seemed that Esme had been right. Killing Royce didn’t make her feel better, but it had satiated her conscience. He could not hurt anyone else.

Rosalie placed a hat on her head to conceal her face as she walked through the barely crowded streets of her home. Whispers on the street spoke of the demented killer that had taken the lives of four young men. Even if it had been a while since he had killed, everyone knew he was still out there. She had expected that much. The fear of the unknown was enough to rattle an entire town, and after Royce, it would be the only topic on everyone’s tongues for a long time.

What she had not expected was to come face to face with a picture of herself.

Taped to a lamp post was her last photograph taken with the words MISSING in bold on top of it. Under, a brief description of who she had been was printed, her family calling for any information regarding the whereabouts of their daughter. But that didn’t strike her as odd. She knew her family would be worried—had been worried for months.

No. It was the small message posted under her family’s plea that made her stop in her tracks, a sudden wave of sadness numbing her limbs. She ran her pale fingers over the withered paper as though she could hear the voice if she touched the words.

Please help bring our Rosie home, the message read. There are people here who love her more than sunflowers love the sun.

There was no need for a signature for Rosalie to know exactly who’d had that message printed. She ripped the message from the page, folding it into the bag she had buried the wedding dress in, careful not to wrinkle the paper.

Her heart wrenched inside her chest as she remembered the last time she had seen this person. The last time she ever would.

Only a week before her wedding, Vera had told her how much she wished Rosalie a long and happy life. As the blonde carried Henry in her arms, her friend placed a soft hand into hers, squeezing comfortingly as she smiled.

“You deserve happiness, Rosie,” she had said that afternoon. “I just wish…”

“There’s no point in wishing,” Rosalie sighed, her eyes transfixed by the baby in her arms. She had been afraid to look Vera in the eyes —the beautiful gemstone eyes she had adored. “You have your family. And I’m on track to have mine. It is all we ever dreamed of.”

“But it was supposed to look like this,” Vera had sighed. “Not quite like how it really is.”

“We knew from the start that it would end this way, V. This is just the world we live in. At least this way, we can still be in each other’s lives.”

“Even with all your high-class parties and important people to attend?” she had joked. “You really think you’ll have time for me.”

“Always,” Rosalie had smiled. “Forever.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Does a sunflower love the sun?”

Now, she had all the time in the world. So much time it could never run out. But there was not a second more she would be able to spend with Vera or with Henry. She’d never again brush away the little boy’s dark curls as they fell in front of his eyes. She’d never again hear Vera calling her name as she laughed. She’d never have everything she wanted —anyone she wanted.

After what felt like a lifetime of staring at her own face, Rosalie straightened out her dress and made her way back to the Cullen residence as though nothing had happened. She cleared her mind of all thoughts about her best friend and walked inside, ready to shut herself in her room until it was time to feed.

“You really did it, huh?” Edward taunted. “You really went through with it.”

“Please spare me the mocking tonight, Edward,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “My patience is wearing quite thin, and there’s no telling if I might snap. I have heard that us newborns have a tendency to be twitchy and rather strong.”

“You’re such a…”

“That’s quite enough, Edward,” Esme interjected before he could go any further. “Leave your judgment inside your head.”

Edward muttered a complaint as he disappeared into the backyard, acting as a teenager reprimanded by their mother. Which, in a sense, he was.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rosalie,” the woman smiled. “I hope that whatever happened today and all those months before brought you some type of solace. I know it will never be enough, but I hope it’s a start.”

“I hope so, too.”

But she knew her heart would need much more mending than only a few deaths.

That night, she had pulled out the message from her bag alongside a picture she had managed to take with her of Vera and her in their class banquet. They had worn beautiful gowns and were smiling from ear to ear as they danced together. It was a memory she would carry for the rest of her life. But, then, she had laid in the bed she did not need, pressing the picture and the message close to her chest, and closed her eyes to pretend she could dream she was back there.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Eleven.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,414

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

With her love sleeping soundly, Bryn began to feel restless in the hour she had left before the dawn broke, pulling on her long, deep blue silk nightgown and matching floral robe, exiting the bedroom. Touring the corridors of Arrow House as she made her way to the stairs, she smiled to see the traces of herself there within the home. Her flourishing friendship with her soon-to-be sister-in-law meant that Grace consulted her at every turn where furnishing the property with art and antiquities was concerned.

The softly spoken Irish beauty had excellent taste, Bryn only needing to advise her here and there over certain pieces, all of which she had received a very nice little discount for purchasing. The Johan Baptist Reiter painting that hung to the left as she descended the bottom of the staircase looked particularly lovely in its placement. Just like Bryn herself, Grace had a fondness for Biedermeier.

Sensing a presence in the sitting room, she gravitated in that direction, pushing the slightly ajar door open to see Tommy sitting by the fire, a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

“Tired our John out, have you?”

She laughed softly through her nose, Tommy rising from his seat, gesturing to the whiskey bottle.

“Please,” she spoke, sitting down. “And yes, for now.”

“I didn’t mean to be coarse, but the sound travels well in this house,” he commented, pouring the whiskey into a tumbler and passing it to her.

“The high ceilings often bode well for good acoustics. I apologise if my wailing awoke you. Your brother is nothing short of a very gifted lover.”

Tommy shook his head, returning to his seat. “Wasn’t that.” A shadow crept across his features, one he did well to hide from any other person. Bryn was a different matter entirely, though.

“The German guns still haunt you.”

Her assertion earned her a fixed stare, his cool eyes softening a touch as he slowly brought the cigarette to his lips, the tobacco embers crackling. “Didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“You aren’t,” she smiled, “but nothing gets past me. I know the look of a man haunted by his past, by the horrors that still dance a cruel waltz within his mind at everything he saw and should not have had to.” She paused, trailing the rim of the glass with her fingernail. “I tire of witnessing the harm that befalls young men, sent off to fight in the wars concocted by those who never leave their seats of power to fight alongside them. I never sent anyone into a battle that I did not join them in myself, too.”

“John mentioned that you were quite the tactician back in your human days. A warlord, I believe he coined it.”

She nodded, sipping her drink. “Correct, yes.”

“Then it puzzles me why, with that kind of experience, you have fled your enemies for so very long,” he spoke. “Surely your brilliance dictates you could thwart them all, especially taking your strength into consideration.”

A prickle of annoyance skipped over her chest, but Bryn remained calm. “You should know better than anyone, Tommy, that strength is found in numbers where war is concerned. My kind has been hunted to near eradication within England. I have no allies left, and I shall die before I bring my children into this. I am, however, currently in a phase of contemplation. Something happened tonight, something that meant I intend to put down roots in Birmingham. I can hide no longer, so therefore I must begin to strike back against those who have hunted me.”

He cocked his head, watching how the diamonds upon her finger glittered in the firelight, smiling softly. “It fits, then? He was having a right old panic over whether it would.” Watching a small frown settle between her eyebrows as her mouth twisted into a curious smile, he elaborated. “I got dragged to the Jewellery Quarter to help him pick it. Never seen our John in that much of a bloody flap over anything.”

His words touched her, Bryn imagining her sweet love losing his cool over which ring to choose. “Now that I am to be married, you see why I no longer wish to flit from place to place, to keep them guessing with guards upon the doors of my various residences across the globe. In order to do that, though, I must begin in making strikes against them.”

His next question was only natural, Tommy leaning forward in his seat. “And how do you propose to do that?”

Bryn smirked, mirroring his lean. “Setting the kind of trap they shan’t be able to refuse falling into, Tommy.”

It took many more moving pieces in the first phase to begin dismantling the Rasmusen’s infrastructure than just Bryn herself, five large vans en route to her London residence the day after Boxing Day. Predictably, they had a tail, which was exactly what John wanted as he sat in the passenger seat, Johnny Dogs driving.

“It’s a good job they weren’t convinced over the serving girl’s statement that Brynhild wasn’t there?” he stated, negotiating the bends that led them down over the main route into the capital.

John sniffed, taking a swig of whiskey from his hip flask. “I said to Pol she likely weren’t the only one they sent to spy our movements, and yeah, Dogs. I’m glad of it.” Looking in the wing mirror, the car that followed them appeared as a deep maroon dot in the distance, John lifting his chin as he swallowed hard. He just hoped that a few of the men within were notable within the family, for their strike to have the desired effect.

Once they had arrived at 14 Holland Park Road, John jumped out and headed to the front door, Bryn’s neatly pencilled list withing his grasp of the items they were to take from the property and transport back to Birmingham. He nodded at the two men under the employment of Alfie Solomons upon the door, pushing in the key into the lock and opening it up.

“Right, lads,” he began, standing outside of the large sitting room as he perused the list. “All the paintings from the ground, first and second floors, the baby grand, every vase and ornament and leave the rest. Get the packing cases in and hop to it.”

He had personally been tasked with bringing a few items of her clothing and all of her jewellery, Bryn not wanting anyone but her future husband rifling through her personal items, heading up to her bedroom to begin collecting those very belongings.

“Nice bed,” he muttered upon entrance, looking over as he strode to the wardrobe, “shame I won’t get to bounce her around on it for a few hours.” Once the designer pieces she’d listed had been pulled out, her furs as well, he went to the safe and removed all of her jewels, placing each into the heavy hessian sack he carried, picking up the clothing and exiting swiftly. Not before leaving a few items around before he did.

The house was emptied of everything she’d requested within two hours, the team heading back up to Birmingham minus their tail, who stayed parked up at the end of the road.

“Ay, what aren’t we following ‘em, Pat?”

Watching the vans driven by the Peaky Blinders pass them by, Patrick Rasmussen turned to Stanley, nodding back at the house. “Guards are still on the doors, lad. Since they only came back this morning, it means she’s still in there. I think it’s safe to assume she’s on the move, though, what with the contents of her house being cleared out by the Peaky lads. Go down to the phone box and call in with me dad, get him to have one team follow the van, but most of the lads to come down here and wait. We strike on her tonight, as soon as they step away from the door.”

Patrick thought he was being clever, but sadly for him, Brynhild Leifsdottir was much cleverer than he’d ever be able to anticipate...

“Ahh, look now. Pulled over for a break, they have,” spoke Matthew Rasmussen, the very man tasked with following the vans heading back to Birmingham, having been sat awaiting word from Edward on when to move. “Reet, lads. Ready yourselves. Not that we’ll need to, like. We’ve got ‘em well outnumbered.”

His grin of triumph fixed itself firmly, getting to strike a coup against the Peaky Blinders and partially disarm of her allies the vampire menace who had evaded his family for so long in one fell swoop, Matthew noticing there only to be eight men standing around smoking and chatting by the five vans pulled over at the side of the road.

Between his car and the other that followed, ten Rasmussen family members and associates strode out, guns ready, the scent of success bolstering them with every step.

“Can I help you lads?” John asked, flicking his cigarette away.

“Aye, lad. You can stand still and get shot,” Matthew chirped, aiming the gun in his hand towards his head.

“Are we getting shot today, John?” Johnny Dogs asked casually with a sniff. “Didn’t think it was a shooting day today, I didn’t?”

“Nah, Dogs. We ain’t getting shot today, mush.” John’s grin broadened, Matthew shaking his head, about to deliver his final words before the man before him spoke again. “Brynhild sends her regards.”

Perhaps if his brother Patrick was paying greater attention, he would have noticed that one the five vans in the convoy was not filled with the antiquities belonging to the vampire. Tragically for Matthew, nobody noticed until it was too late that it was instead filled with eight Peaky Blinders who stepped out with machine guns, rapidly opening fire.

“Back home by teatime then, John boy?” Arthur spoke casually, once the hail of bullets had ceased. Lowering the machine gun in his grasp, he walked to Matthew’s corpse, snorting deeply before spitting onto his face. “Fucking cunt.”

“Ar, brother. Let’s get off.”

With one team eradicated, the second sat patiently in their vehicles upon Holland Park Road, waiting for any signs of life within the property. At just gone five-thirty in the evening, a rapidly zooming Bryn opened the French windows at the rear of her house, looking around to see the items her love had left out in preparation before taking a tour of the home.

“I shall miss you, beautiful house,” she hummed, her fingertips trailing over each piece of furniture as she passed it by. “It is a most worthy trade, though.”

Entering her bedroom, she held a hand to her chest at the sight of a single red rose laid upon the bed, a note accompanying.

Hurry back when you’re done, sweetheart. I have plans, and they all involve burying my tongue and then my cock inside you until you’re screaming x

Romantic, yet filthy. That was her John to an absolute tee. Taking the note, she tucked it into the pocket of her smart, black trouser suit, pushing the rose into the long braid in her hair before moving downstairs and opening the front door.

“Evening, chaps,” she spoke warmly, giving them both a little wedge of notes each. “Go and enjoy yourselves. As explained to Mr Solomons I shall no longer be requiring his guard services, but please do inform him there shall be a very nice cheque to follow in the post as a personal token of my appreciation.”

The taller of the two nodded, lifting his hat to her. “A pleasure, Ms Leifsdottir. Thank you, ma’am.”

Bryn made sure she stood at the front door for long enough to be noticed while waving them away in their car, closing it behind her and heading to the sitting room in wait. They arrived in two units, as she suspected they would, the first storming the front door and the second the rear, twenty Rasmussen men filling the space.

“Finally,” Patrick grinned, the men surrounding her, “we’re fucking got you cornered at last. Stan, get her in chains.”

“Oh, no, no, my dear,” she hummed, shaking her head.

“No?” he laughed, Stan moving towards her. “We’ve got you surrounded, pet. One move and its curtains for you, it is.”

“My associates say differently, as do the trip wires you’re all about to stumble upon.”

Patrick and his men halted immediately, indeed seeing wires all boxing the area in which the vampire stood, Bryn flicking her hands. Sparks of ignition lit the very shortened fuses upon the strategically placed sticks of dynamite, her fangs glistening as she grinned. “Now, what is that my soon to be husband says, hmm? Ah yes. By order of the Peaky Blinders,” she laughed, delivering her final words with a wave. “Fuck you.”

She was gone out of the open French windows within a blink, her entire house exploding into inferno the next, Bryn hovering high above in the air to watch the fireball engulf her former home, and the twenty Rasmussen’s within it. The reflection of the flames twinkled in her eyes, Bryn feeling a piece of herself return.

“Splendid.” With that, she left London, racing through the night air rapidly, returned to Birmingham in just under fifteen minutes. She was so swift, in fact, she even beat John home, her beloved arriving not long after her, giving his coat and cap to a waiting Arthur and removing his boots before calling through the house.

“Where’s me bab?”

“Bedroom, darling,” she replied. He took the stairs two at a time, turning right to enter the bedroom, not seeing her anywhere in sight. His mouth upturned to feel her arms slide around him from behind, delicate fingers unknotting his tie as she laid kisses to his cheek.

“How’d it go?”

“With a very big bang,” she purred, tongue swiping a lick upon his cheek.

He turned, clasping her nakedness to him, laying lustful kisses upon her neck while his fingers went to her wavy, freshly undone hair. “Just like the rest of your night, then.” The scent of her lightly perfumed skin pulled at him like a heady intoxicant, his clothes all shed by the time they reached the bed, lying back and taking her with him.

His hands moved in slow tour down her back, grasping the rounded cheeks of her bum, making her squeal when he laid a hard slap to each. “Get up here,” he rasped, winking as he grasped her hips. “You know exactly where I want ya.”

Taking to her knees, she shuffled up the bed, levelling herself with his head. He pushed his elbows against her thighs, bringing her down until her sex met the long, firm swipe of his tongue. His breath misted hot against her cool folds, her skin soon warming to the blazing warmth of his mouth with every lick he pushed against her, groaning as the sharp honey of her cunt began to bathe his tongue.

His fingers trailed over the ancient etchings upon her hips, pattering up to her breasts, evoking an earthy moan as he began to roll her nipples into peaks between his thumbs and forefingers. Heat streaked over her nerves like a hail of comets as his lips wrapped her clit in a firm suck, tongue gently rolling, her thighs twitching in response.

The rich groan rumbling through his throat as she reached back to clasp his cock vibrated through her, Bryn pausing to lick her hand wet before curling it around his hardness again, a breathy sigh leaving her parted lips as he sank his tongue into the wet of her cunt. The pleasure surged through her, hips purling against his mouth, her hand working him to steel, all while crying out softly at the speed his tongue beat against her bud with.

He had her embers stoking to flames rapidly, the burn much too smouldering to withstand without him being inside her. The slick of her cunt grazed his abs as she moved down, and it sent a bolt through him, lightning that struck deep again as she speared herself upon his cock, leaning to circle his nipple with her tongue. Her walls flexed around him as the heat of his cock radiated through her, warming her walls as it dragged against them, her teeth closing in soft bite on his nipple, running a lick from his chest up to his mouth.

The momentum gathered rapidly, little shocks of burning pleasure skittering through them as their bodies moved together in perfect sync, Bryn leaving raspberry trails of lust upon the lily white of his chest with her nails. His muscles bounced beneath the clawed contact, the feeling sinking down to his bones as he watched her tits bounce, his hands moving to cup them before he reached for her neck, pulling her down to his level,

Moving to hold her in a grasp upon her hips, her wail sounded through the air as he fucked up into her hard, their tongues swirling, kisses all heat and sin, John making her shriek and giggle when he moved a hand to begin laying hard smacks upon the round of her bum.

“Fucking can’t wait for you to be my wife.” he groaned, kisses moving to her neck.

To be somebody’s wife again, she could scarcely believe it, to have finally found a man who loved her that much after crossing oceans of time alone.

Witnessing the wattage of her luminous smile was all the answer he needed, their mouths meeting again as he turned her onto her back, limbs locking around one another as sublime love and burning lust met in perfect alchemy.

Once they’d spent time thoroughly enjoying themselves, they lay idly stroking one another, Bryn’s nail trailing from freckle to freckle, mapping the constellation upon his shoulder. They were the stars, his body the endless sky she wished to sail through. Come January the first, it would be a month since he’d first met her and yet, it felt like a year. Already he struggled to remember a life without his beloved in it, and he never wanted that for either of them again.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, Bryn reaching to the side of his head, miming winding a crank handle. “Oi, cheeky mare. Less of that.” Despite himself, he still laughed, his amused chuckles joining the tinkle of her giggles.

“So yeah, I’ve been thinking, right, about the future. After everything you’ve told me about your long life, it wouldn’t be fair for me to make you watch me grow old and eventually have to lose me an’ all. Once Katie is a bit older and won’t need me to be around for her quite so much, especially not in the daytime, I want you to make me vampire. I dunno, though, like will it cause issues, you being the one to do it?”

She understood the connotations clearly, since the bond between creator and offspring as just as deep, if not deeper than a human parent and child. There was an exception, though. “It shan’t, no. It is different if a vampire turns their lover or spouse. It is called Amantes Vinculum Sanguinis, which is Latin for the lover's blood bond.” Her eyes sparkled at him through the amber haze of the candle and firelight bathing the room in a warm glow, shaking her head softly. “You truly want this, to join me forever?”

He leaned to her, nuzzling her nose softly. “’Course I fucking do. Well, I dunno. I might get fed up of ya in five hundred years, but I doubt it.”

Her fist met the side of his neck in a playful punch. “I have never met anybody who has ever loved me that much before, to want to walk the darkness with me for all eternity.”

“Well, now you have,” he affirmed, linking his fingers through hers. “I reckon you probably have, though. You just ain’t ever wanted to let ‘em in, have ya?”

How well he knew her, understood her on an instinctual level. “I suppose this is fair reasoning, my darling. For you to propose this, though, goodness,” she began, reaching to stroke his face. “Nobody has ever meant more to me than you, John. I love you so completely and endlessly.”

The way he kissed her mirrored those words entirely.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x ofc #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #immortal beloved #john and bryn

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mittensmorgul · 1 year

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Hello spn georg! I have a question requiring your deep knowledge. As much as I swooned over Carlos's holy water hair commercial, I was confused because I thought damage by holy water was just a demon thing in the spn universe. It burns vampires too?

Hello! I have to start this off by sobbing, because I had written out a VERY long and detailed response to this, lost track of time, had to run an errand with a split second notice, and left this open and unsaved. And then returned home to find my laptop had rebooted itself and ate the entire post. So. I have to recreate an hour's work that was VERY THOROUGH, and therefore this will never feel like a good enough answer to me... hopefully it'll suffice for you :'D

(honestly this is what i get for writing directly in tumblr. you'd think i would've learned this lesson by now, but nope... i'm back writing this response in tumblr too lololol... hopefully it goes better this time >.>)

I mentioned at the top of my original post that I had another anon venting about folks review-bombing the Winchesters ratings on imdb and other ratings sites, and agree with the anon that these are awful people with nothing better to do with their time, because THE SHOW HAS BEEN TELLING US FROM THE BEGINNING THAT IT WILL EXPLAIN WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON IF WE JUST WAIT UNTIL THEY'RE READY TO REVEAL THAT IN THE NARRATIVE. They've been telling us they are dropping CLUES as to what the "trick" of this story is-- like how Dean is exploring the past, how directly this affects the canon of the original show, and what is actually happening-- and I see all of these head-scratchers like holy water suddenly affecting vampires as exactly those sorts of clues. Let me explain.

What did established canon have to say about vampires and holy water? NOTHING! ZIP! ZERO! Established canon has never mentioned holy water in conjunction with vampires in any context-- either as being effective at repelling or slowing them down, or as being useless against them. For all we know, Sam and Dean could've had another weapon in their anti-vamp arsenal all these years, and just never thought to give it a try. They had dead man's blood and beheading as their go to weapons, maybe they felt they didn't need anything else? Either way, they never even TRIED it.

So established canon never DISPROVED holy water as an effective vamp repellent. Introducing it in such a gloriously fabulous way now doesn't break anything.

Oh, and we've often learned that unexpected things are effective weapons against various monsters over the years... i mean, wood chippers trump everything, right? LOL!

And can we just pause for a moment to discuss that? Because this is the sort of thing fandom has been clamoring for more of in canon for years. There have been many posts over the years that are basically lists of Awesome Hunting Tools that canon never even considered, like filling hula hoops with salt to play demon ring toss with, stuff like that. Because that hair flip? Have I mentioned how much I love Carlos? Okay, now I have. I honestly don't care if it broke canon even a little if it gave us that scene :'D

BUT! Even if holy water always could've been an effective weapon against vampires in original canon, it's easy to handwave with "Sam and Dean couldn't have learned it from John because John was too busy being dead inside (LOL sorry not sorry) while Carlos was busy being amazing with that little trick outside." Maybe John just never even knew holy water would do anything.

And if none of that is enough to handwave it for you, I'll jump back to the top of this essay and vehemently point at what should be incredibly obvious based on everything we know about how this show is being constructed. WE ARE *SUPPOSED* TO NOTICE THE INCONSISTENCIES. THEY ARE THE CLUES AS TO WHAT IS HAPPENING.

There are SO MANY wtf head scratch moments for me in The Winchesters. So many things are are just ~ever so slightly off~ based on everything we know. And that's not even mentioning the Big Obvious WTF of John supposedly knowing all about hunting, the MoL, monsters-- all of it, that doesn't line up at all with what we have SEEN of John and Mary's life in original SPN canon.

I mean... Samuel has hair now? LOL!

There is SOMETHING going on that will hopefully provide an AHA! SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON! moment for us. There is a twist, a turn, a peek behind the big curtain that will show us what's been going on. WE HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT WILL HAPPEN IN EPISODE 13!

So saying at episode 9 that it's all crap and invalid because it doesn't line up with established facts is just... such a boring stance to me. Like, enjoy the mystery! Piece together the clues!

For my other anon again, I can see how it would be fun for folks who have no idea about original canon, who don't even know they're even looking at clues because they haven't memorized every last detail about original canon, you know? But for those of us who know enough to pause and scratch our heads over this stuff, golly isn't it fun wondering how it all fits together? Because I'm having fun with it. :D

But hopefully that at least covers your question about holy water and vampires.

even if I'd typed up a much better reply before tumblr ate it...

#the winchesters #spnwin s1 spoilers #spnwin 1.09 #also i see your long post note-taking anon... i haven't had time to even look at tumblr this week let alone reply #i see you though! i'll get to it soon!

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blue-chimera · 5 months

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Further thoughts on something @prelawboy said while talking about how a rich world can spring out of contradictions & fuzzy details: "[Sam and Dean] spent their whole childhood hunting but at the start of the show don’t seem to know what any monsters are."

On this particular point, I actually think the details we get at the beginning are pretty consistent with a world full of supernatural creatures, beings, & forces so diverse that it's hard to immediately identify what precise flavor of monster you're dealing with.

That's why they don't leap to "shapeshifter" right away in S1:E6 "Skin," for example: there's other stuff it could be. Their first thought is some kind of doppelgänger, something tied to Zack specifically, like we see (much later) with "dark Charlie." Another possibility is mentioned within the episode, as well, when Sam is trying to test shifter!Dean & says, "Didn't Dad run into a shapeshifter in San Antonio?" And shifter!Dean reminds him that that case turned out not to be a shapeshifter: "It was a thought-form, a psychic projection." But they're familiar with creatures that change their shapes as a general category of monster that exists, at any rate — Sam mentions in an earlier scene that werewolves fall into this same category...

Likewise, in "Wendigo," the brothers don't miss the fact that it's a wendigo because they're unfamiliar with them — they miss it because this particular wendigo has roamed far outside of their usual range. So at first they think it's more likely to be a skinwalker or black dog. But as soon as Sam pegs it as a wendigo, Dean grimaces in frustration & holds up his gun, saying, "Great. Well, then, this is useless." It's clear he knows immediately how to take one of these down, and it's not bullets.

In "Dead in the Water," they think they might be dealing with a lake monster à la Nessie, but then — after the next victim drowns in a sink — hypothesize that it must be a water wraith or something else, eventually homing in on the fact that it's a ghost. All of these are solid guesses, though, based on the information they have at the time.

Even as far back as the pilot, Sam & Dean seem like they know their stuff. They clock right away that John was hunting some kind of angry spirit when he disappeared & link it quickly to the death of Constance Welch. Then, when Sam sees "Woman in White" on the wall of John's motel room above an article about Constance's death, he obviously recognizes the term — and clearly expects Dean to know it, as well, telling his brother (without further elaboration) that their dad ID'ed Constance as a Woman in White. Dean reacts by smirking slightly & shaking his head at the photos of the victims, saying, "You sly dogs." (Because now that they know it's a Woman in White, they also know what all those men had in common: they were all unfaithful.)

Counterpoint: I'll admit that there are monsters that seem relatively common in later episodes that they — strangely — have no history of ever having run into before (the most obvious being vampires), but it's also possible that those monster populations changed significantly over the ensuing years (since we know that Lucifer's rise encouraged some groups of monsters to act differently, as did Eve's return, as did the freeing of the Darkness, etc.).

Also, it's clear that the writers were still hashing out some of the details about how things like demons worked in S1 (with EMF & "Christo" being used to detect them in E4 and then basically never used again). But it's not uncommon for a show with such complex lore to still be finding its footing at that point. Overall, I feel like they managed to be pretty consistent with their handling of the lore in particular (and Sam & Dean's personal experience of it), with only a handful of noteworthy errors over their 327-episode run. There are other places I see contradictions, tension, ambiguity. But the Winchester brothers' pre-series exposure to hunting monsters is not so much one of them.

[Making this a new post to avoid derailing the other, as this is sort of tangential to your main point, @prelawboy, which I thought was quite insightful!]⁰

#thoughts? please feel free to disagree!#spn meta #spn #understanding the winchesters #dean winchester #sam winchester

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enchantzz · 1 year

Text

The Hunt

The Hunt - Tales from the past - 18+/Mature/Explicit - Warning: mention of blood

Rick Marlowe / John Mitchell / Female OC

Words: 2425

Summary: Mitchell dares Rick to come with him on a hunt. Rick, however, is adamant about not feeding on humans. In an attempt to stop him, he follows Mitchell one night. Will he succeed or will he be drawn in?

One-shot in the series of Art & Vampires

Rick Marlowe (Richard Armitage) is a character in the stories Art & Vampires. Born as a human in 1754, turned vampire in 1795. Co-founder of VAMPs - Vintage and Art Marketing Partners and the one who turned Mitchell (Aidan Turner) into a vampire.

He slowly opened his eyes and sat up, traces of blood all over him, the bedsheets, and her. How had Rick gotten himself into this situation? What had happened? He sat for a moment, looking at the scene and then it all came back to him.

Mitchell had been out of control for a while now and Rick had told him to stop. He knew that lately, Alana and Mitchell had been hunting together and ‘snacking ’ as they called it, but it went against everything they had agreed upon; they did not feed on humans. Alana, however, never stopped ‘snacking’ and they had gotten used to it. But Mitchell?

After Mitchell’s love Belle had died, he had gone off the rails, and even killed, but for a pretty long time afterwards, he had followed in Rick and Ben’s footsteps and had abstained from feeding on humans. Or had he? Rick wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

Mitchell had tasted fresh blood and it was addictive. Rick knew that he would want more and that he would not be able to stop by himself. If it hadn’t been for Rick and Ben, Mitchell would have turned into an unstoppable killing monster after the first love of his life, Belle, had died. Like with all addictions, it’s hard to get back on track without support and Rick was determined to put a stop to Mitchell’s behavior before it was too late.

In the past months, half drunk on fresh blood, Mitchell had been confessing to him, no, not confessing; it was more raving about the excitement of the hunt and he had been going on about how Rick should embrace his inner beast too, that it would be good for him to let go for once. But Rick had become angry and he had shot Mitchell down, threatening that he would lose his place amongst them if he kept hunting and so-called snacking. At some point, the snacking would turn into killing. Did he want to be that killing monster again? Had he forgotten how much pain it had brought him? How difficult it had been to stay away from feeding?

The threats hadn’t done much. Maybe because Mitchell knew all too well that the bond between them could not be broken or maybe he didn’t want to stop or maybe he just didn’t care.

Rick had been thinking of a different way to get through to Mitchell. One night, when Mitchell had dared Rick to hunt with him, as usual, Rick had gotten angry with him and tried to stop him, to no avail. He made up his mind. He would follow Mitchell and stop him before he could do any harm. When Mitchell left the house, Rick secretly followed him.

Following Mitchell led him to a party in one of the big plantations, quite a drive outside of New Orleans. Something about not shitting in your own backyard, Rick thought and moved closer to watch Mitchell.

He appeared to have his eyes set on a pretty brunette. After only a short while, she noticed him and smiled. She made an excuse to leave the people she was talking to and made her way over to him. They must have been in contact before, since she greeted him with a deep, long kiss.

The night was young, but it was getting dark and the moon came out. A big red ball of fire in the pitch black sky among tiny specks of light radiating from the countless stars. After a while of talking, smooching and touching, he saw them move away from the party, walking in the direction of the woods adjacent to the property.

Rick followed them from a safe distance until he saw that they had stopped. He watched them, ready to move in, in case something happened. He transformed to enhance his hearing. He heard Mitchell asking her if she wanted to see something cool and she said yes.

At that moment, Mitchell’s eyes turned pitch black and he bared his fangs. The girl, obviously not expecting that kind of cool, screamed and moved away. Mitchell grabbed her wrist, but she was able to free herself. Or did he let her slip away? She started to run and he followed, with a big grin on his face. He was like a cat playing with his catch.

Rick set off to chase Mitchell. The girl was disoriented, but she kept running. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest, her breath ragged. Her fragrance, mixed with the scent of fear, was intoxicating. He tried to shake it off and concentrated on the scents of the night, the woods, the grass. But the closer he got, the more her scent took precedent. The big red blood moon in the sky seemed to intensify everything inside him and enhance his senses. Was he still trying to stop Mitchell or was he hunting her too?

The girl had now reached the far end of the plantation 's premises. The mansion was in sight, but still quite far off. She started screaming for help, but the party was still going on and no one heard her. She was too far away from the main building and she must have known it. She changed direction and ran to the guest lodgings, which were closer, probably hoping to find someone to rescue her, but the buildings were dark and there was no one there.

She tried some of the doors and found the last of the buildings unlocked. She stumbled inside and closed the door shut. She is safe, Rick thought. No, she is trapped. He pounded the side of his head with his fist, trying to get his thoughts and feelings straight. “Safe”, he whispered, trying to convince himself.

Her flowery scent lingered in the air. It smelled so good and reminded him of the night blooming jasmine in their back garden. He drew in a deep breath. No, he could not linger, he had to move. He had to stop Mitchell. Where was he?

He reached the building. He checked around the corner and saw Mitchell disappear through a window. Rick followed quickly and slipped through the window as well.

He saw Mitchell pin the girl to the wall beside the bed, holding his hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming. He was holding her gaze, whispering, reassuring her, in a way, hypnotizing her and Rick heard her frantic heartbeat slow down.

Suddenly, Mitchell turned to look at Rick. “Enjoying the hunt?’ he grinned. He pulled her arm towards his face, opened his mouth and scratched the girl’s wrist with one of his razor sharp fangs. She shrieked, but didn’t move. It was a tiny cut, but the blood which trickled from her wrist down into the palm of her hand was too much for Rick. The metallic, yet slightly sweet scent reached his nostrils and he let out a growl. Mitchell smiled. This was going to be a great night.

The girl’s eyes were fixed on Mitchell’s and he was reassuring her that nothing bad was going to happen. Didn’t they have fun together? Did she remember the other day? When they took a stroll through the park and how she had laid her head in his lap and they had talked for hours? She nodded and a smile appeared on her face.

So he had been preying upon her for a while, Rick thought. It was all a big game to him. Playing with the girl while he had the intention to feed on her all along. Her scent was so sweet, the jasmine, the blood and the smell of fear, although less strong, lingered in the room. Rick felt dizzy.

‘This is my friend’, he heard Mitchell say. ‘We are going to have fun together, aren’t we?’

The girl nodded and when he drew her in for a kiss, she closed her eyes and eagerly returned it.

Rick stood frozen, just watching them. Why didn’t he move?

They started taking off their clothes and Mitchell looked back at him, knowing that Rick wasn’t going to stop him. There was no doubt in his intention. He was inviting him to join them. Mitchell turned his attention back to the girl, picking her up and placing her on her back on the bed, caressing her and planting kisses from her neck all the way down to her belly. She was squirming and letting out soft gasps.

Rick felt torn between leaving because he felt like he was intruding and wanting to rescue the girl. He did neither one. Instead, he started to undress.

The girl’s heartbeat was louder now. This time not from fear, but from passion. Mitchell positioned himself between her legs and Rick moved to lie beside them. Mitchell took the girl's wrist and moved it in Rick’s direction, with a meaningful look. Rick took the girl's wrist and placed his nose close to the cut, inhaling the scent of the blood and letting his fangs slide over the soft flesh. He heard the pounding of her heart and the soft rushing, almost whispering sound of the blood flowing through her veins.

When Mitchell entered her, she let out a loud gasp and while they moved in unison, the human in Rick moved further to the background, letting the monster inside him to take over. He watched as Mitchell and the girl built up to a high. With a final hard and deep thrust, Mitchell took both the girl and himself over he edge, sinking his fangs deep into her neck and Rick sinking his fangs deep into her wrist.

He felt the warm blood flowing into his mouth. It felt heavenly. He had almost forgotten how good it tasted. Gripping the girl’s wrist tight, he sucked in more and more blood.

Roles reversed, Mitchell pulled Rick away from the girl, stopping him. It needed to last. The night was still young. One thing was for sure, after the first rush, Rick wanted more.

Mitchell checked on the girl. She was alright and pulled him in for more kisses, clearly not done with him as they were not done with her.

Rick sat back leaning against the headboard, head spinning. He didn’t have time to think or change his mind, for the girl moved towards him.

Mitchell let go of her, sat back and with a grin on his face, watched her settle on top of Rick. Straddling his lap, she kissed him feverishly. Rick’s hands trailed down her back and he cupped her ass, gripping it tight and pulling her closer.

He wrapped one arm firmly around her waist and with the other hand, he pulled her hair back, making her head tilt and exposing her neck. He pressed his lips on the wound where Mitchell had sunk his teeth into her velvety flesh and licked off the remainder of the blood. The taste was intoxicating.

The mix of her scent, the taste of blood, and her fingers stroking his length expertly, made him harder than he remembered being in a long time. His sky blue eyes turned pitch black and his fangs reappeared. He lifted the girl up and with a swift move he entered her, making her sink down on him. She let out a cry, throwing her head back. After a short moment, adjusting to his size, the girl started to move, rocking back and forth, keeping her eyes fixed on Rick’s.

Mitchell moved in closer, his black eyes trained on the pair building up to a climax. He positioned himself behind her, placing one hand on her throat and reaching around to grab her breast with the other. She pressed her back into him, moved her arm back and up, wrapping it around the back of his neck while steadily rocking back and forth.

She turned her head to the side to meet his lips. Their tongues intertwined. She cut her tongue on his sharp fangs, making blood flow and Mitchell greedily drank the warm liquid.

Rick released one hand from the girl’s waist, squeezing the nipple of her free breast, which made the girl groan louder. She turned her head away from Mitchell and was breathing hard, blood trickling down her chin. She was close to her release.

She pressed down harder and moved faster, pushing herself over the edge. At that moment, Rick drew her close, sank his teeth deep into one side of her neck, while Mitchell sank his teeth into the other side. With one last thrust, Rick released himself deep inside her with a growl, both him and Mitchell savoring the red liquid, which matched the color of the magnificent blood moon outside.

Hours later, blue sky and sun had replaced the blood moon and the silver stars of the dark night sky. Sun rays seeped through the windows illuminating the bloodied bed sheets and bodies in the guest lodgings. Rick stirred and slowly opened his eyes. His nostrils filled with the lingering scent of dried blood and sex. He sat up and looked at the bloody mess.He tried to focus on the girl. She was breathing. She was alive. Not dead. Just sleeping, as was Mitchell.

Then it hit him. What had he done? He panicked slightly and tried to remember the events. It all came flooding back to him. He was supposed to stop the hunter. Instead, he had become the hunter.

He realized, to his horror, that he had enjoyed all of it. The hunt, the excitement, the sex, the blood. The blood. Could he blame it on the blood moon, which always made him restless and which could make someone mad? Did he enjoy it, or was it the beast inside him that had enjoyed this. Was there even a distinction? Was he the beast?

Even after feeding on her the whole night, the girl was alive and she seemed to have enjoyed it herself. Was feeding on humans justified if they consented? Was his so-called righteous way of living fair to the beast inside him? Was it fair to deny himself that exquisite feeling of what fresh human blood did to him?

There were too many questions and it overwhelmed him. He needed to get out of there. He took on his vampire form once more, got dressed at lightning speed and fled the scene. He ran into the woods and kept running, trying to make sense of it all, or perhaps, trying to forget it all.

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