#its so fun and exhilarating and liberating

[empty-dream]

#zom 100 bucket list of the dead #akira tendou #zom100edit #myedit #mygif #I LOVE THIS NEW PART SO MUCH #especially the last one like DAMN #its so fun and exhilarating and liberating #and it makes sense with the breath that ends the song #and ALSO aligns with the freedom Akira finally gets #the cinematic the color and the composition nail it #GOD I LOVE IT SM

[couchtaro]

!!

from the OC introduction ask! (Sorry followers this is long but its worth it i prommy there are even pictures)

This is my little dötter Basil, a D&D PC of mine! She only saw 3 sessions of play 3 years ago but she is getting a second chance at life because @eaudecrow picked her up from the shelter and gave her a lovely yard to run around in.

Basil is a little tiefling girl whose large family runs an apothecary and surgery in a tiny little backwater town called Tarnygee. Basil’s brilliant mother developed a strain of magical herb that when processed can cast (without spell slots or prior magical ability) Lesser Restoration, thereby curing any disease instantly.

While traveling to heal a local noble, Basil’s mother disappeared and a bigshot inventor came forward claiming her panacea as his own. When Basil’s oldest brother tried to confront him and wound up dead, it became clear there was nothing they could do to get justice on their own. So, fueled by grief and rage, Basil took a job as a part-time warlock at Seelie Corp., a fey megacorporation with mysterious motives. In return for her working as their errand girl, Basil gets to be distinctly less killable and more tricky as she tries to find the inventor and extort him for the good of her destitute family.

Things aren’t working as well as she would like though: due to being basically a middle schooler, she’s got to keep her work under 40 hours a week and gets limited pact benefits. Her supervisor (a weasely pseudodragon named Keith) is dismissive and unhelpful, and her small town upbringing has kept her deeply unprepared for taking on the wild world of men and magic on her own.

Luckily, she’s found some unexpected help! While submitting her weekly report through the postal system of Fey portals, Basil’s paperwork went awry and found its way to another world: specifically a bunker in a war torn parallel version of the material plane. This bunker is the home and prison of Crow’s Aaren D’Cannith.

As a youth, Aaren invented a mechanical race called warforged, but seeing their potential for war and servitude, his family seized his blueprints (AND HIS ROBOT DAUGHTER) and disowned him as soon as he came of age. Aaren spent a few years as a vigilante trying to free his creations, but was trapped in his secret library when a magical-chemical fallout steeped his homeland in a volatile and toxic arcane gas. There he stayed, trapped and utterly alone, for three years.

Until Basil.

The two are corresponding via letters that we actually write each other, and it’s SUCH a fun and interesting method of storytelling to me aah. Despite being little more than strangers separated by a barely permeable divide, and despite Aaren struggling to believe Basil was even real at first, the two have formed a very sweet bond that makes me so unwell, you would not believe.

Both are grieved by how much of their own misfortune they see in the other. Through Basil’s letters, Aaren can tell that she is young, inexperienced, lacking support, and actively in danger as she allows herself to be used in exchange for power. He sees her situation with the eyes of someone who has been there and thus liberally (almost desperately) shares what little he can: his own arcane study materials, what he’s learned about survival and avoiding arrest, and, not the least, assurance that despite her perceptions, Basil is clever and kind and she matters.

Basil in turn is Aaren’s one connection to other people, and to a world that, while imperfect, is not ravaged and desolate like his own. After years of incarceration and tedium, he now has the exhilarating privilege of small talk and an audience for the terrible, terrible jokes he’s cooked up in isolation. He has a way to not only talk to someone outside of himself, but to help. He has something productive to do, and a reason to do it, not to mention the interesting puzzles of how their letters are finding each other and what else might be going on with Basil’s work. Basil is truly grateful to him, and returns his kindness in what little ways she can—most recently by interdimensionally mailing him his first real food in years.

Currently, Aaren and Basil are working to craft a pair of sending stones for daily artificer/botany jokes and (real reason) so that Basil can have some sort of emergency contact if she needs urgent advice. 25 words once per day is frightfully little if she ever runs into real trouble, and the limitations of their contact are never more haunting than when one considers how little Aaren could truly do in an emergency. I’m sure this frustration is only worsened by the unfortunate atrophy of his knowledge and skill caused by fog exposure. But he’s a clever man, and Crow had some ideas that seized my brain for weeks. Goodness.

Anyway in conclusion

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#my OC #blorbos in law #Basil D’Pothecary #Aaren D’Cannith #Basil #answered asks #art: Basil #my art #TENDERNESS MAKES ME BONKERS AND THERE IS SO MUCH TO HE HAD WITH THESE TWO #thanks crow…. 😭💐🥺

[wisefoxluminary]

Tastes so Good, make a Grown Man cry

A Drowley fanfic

Link on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49812181

Ship: Dean Winchester x Crowley

Dean is trying to adjust to life as a demon as he finds the whole experience liberating - he doesn't give a shit about morale anymore and the need to kill always gets his blood pumping, in ways life as a hunter wouldn't give him. Dean is still trying to figure himself out and one night with Crowley, a little experimentation, changes his perspective on everything. Title inspired by lyrics from Cherry Pie by Warrant.

Warnings: Set prior to S10, Demon Dean Winchester, semi-public sex, dirty talk, flirting, bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester's first time with a man, Dean Winchester has a bisexual awakening, jealously, Dean Winchester being a yandere, mildly dubious content, jealousy, top Dean Winchester, bottom Crowley, shameless smut, talk of fetishes, cowboy kink, the author regrets nothing.

Notes - I have been watching Supernatural for the first time and I'm just on season ten. Watching the first two episodes, I get the impression that Demon Dean and Crowley fucked during their time on the road. So I hope you enjoy and any feedback would be great.

---

When you think of Dean Winchester, you think of a blunt instrument. A means to an end to put a poisoning thorn into God's plan. He was always a fighter, someone who never gave up on the everlasting power of family. It was running through his veins. Dean was a hunter who would face the wrath of heaven just to keep his loved ones safe. All Dean knew was how to fight but that didn't stop his good heart from corrupting him. But now death had dug its claws into Dean's chest and that man of valor was now gone, melted away like the wax of a candle. Dean had been running away from this part of himself all this time. He wanted to get rid of the Mark of Cain, the one thing that was bringing out his darkness, twisting and festering in his soul just waiting to come out. That need to cause violence, the thirsting desire to kill was writing itself into his bones. All it took was a little death to unlock the powers inside of him. Those who tried to run from the mark's power would be reborn anew as a killer. As even in death, there was no escape from the first blade.

Dean should have been afraid of what he had become, but instead something about it became liberting. As a demon, he didn't have the capacity to care anymore. All those feelings of humanity were gone and instead replaced by a growing hunger for violence and danger. As a hunter, Dean lived a very civilised life, but none of that mattered anymore. He was free to be himself, to have a little fun in times where hate was all he'd known. He felt like a kid again. There was no Sammy to keep him in control anymore. He had the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wanted. He could enjoy the simple life, sing to karaoke until his lungs gave out, hurt people and find pure joy in their cries of pain. Being a human was weak and painful, but now being a demon was exhilarating. He didn't need to care and it was a drug he never wanted to escape from.

The night was wild and Dean was crawling his way through bars filled with activity, under Crowley's watchful eye like a dog at a lease. As a demon, Dean didn't feel like he was controlled. He wasn't bound to a tight straight jacket. He was free to be whoever he wanted as those feelings of fun and joy were heightened. It spared him of the mortal pain of remorse and guilt, and he was instead free to be who he wanted. Immune from the disease that was humanity, Dean had finally embraced the killer in him and spilled blood just to keep his adrenaline at an all time high. He always had a lady around his shoulder, giving him pleasure to the end of the night. But flings were nothing to Dean now, they just faded out of his memory as soon as they happened. Soon enough they became a blur. Their names nor where they came from meant nothing to him, they were just objects to make him happy, to make him content after a day of drinking and beating others to a crimson pulp. It kept Dean awake and alive but it also awoke something inside him.

Dean had always been one to shut off his emotions, to lock them tight deep in his heart so to never be disturbed again. That anger was primal like a spirit stirring inside his body. Just waiting to break out of its cage and be free. When he was reborn a demon, feelings didn't matter anymore. That life as a human was no longer his anymore. That part of him was long gone and never to be raised from the dead again. An angel once said that freedom was like a length of rope and God wanted you to hang yourself with it. Maybe because he had demon blood flowing through his veins, it would make him sinful. But Crowley used that rope as a opportunity for him to climb new heights and explore himself beyond the selfless facade of a human. But god, did he offer him a new perspective.

Life on the road with Crowley was like reading the pages of a comic book, everyday a thrilling adventure. The mark was to be fed and causing violence was like a temptation Dean couldn't live without. His sole duty was to blend in and have a good time, to allow his black heart to be filled with rapture. Those assuring glances and words of encouragement from Crowley gave him the strength within to slaughter the unlucky few. All he wanted to do was impress his king and every kill brought him closer to that undying fidelity. He always wondered what his dear friend was thinking in that smug head of his. He wanted to know what the crossroads demon was really like in the sack, if he really felt something for him. It was only a matter of time before their passions took hold and all Dean wanted to do was kiss him stupid. They were dancing around each other like pieces of a chess board, always straddling each other along to one town to the next as they were burning to be in each other's arms, to set their tongues alight with fluttering sparks. In his previous life, Dean used to hate Crowley's guts but now he had that smouldering desire to make him his own. He was feeling things for this son of a bitch in ways he couldn't understand. Feelings long buried were finally coming out of their grave and he had to act on them. There was no humanity holding him back anymore. He was a demon and he was hungry for a little experimentation. Crowley wanted to make the world burn so its ashes could scatter and become his new kingdom. He wanted to share that with him so desperately. He wanted to play a twisted game with him. All it took was to draw out the lovesick boy within him. Dean knew how to get under people's skin, so this was nothing but a walk in the park.

It was another night at a quaint bar as the locals were drowning themselves in the beverages of the hour, activity restless in the midnight hour. Dean was pulling crazy stunts to get the attention he wanted as he was slumped against a table, getting drunk as he flirted like crazy with a ditzy blonde. She was a little younger than he was, a waitress who was working hard for the money. She wanted escape from her mundane life of serving beers and chatting her up was probably the closest thing to a dream she could have. But Dean wasn't looking to be this girl's knight in shining armour. he just wanted Crowley. That's all he ever wanted.

"So, what brought you here? I never find guys like you in these parts" the girl muttered, her endless flirting making his blood boil. But he kept smiling, trying to appease her oblivious innocence.

"I'm just visiting...trying to get over a break up. They can be a real pain in the ass. You can pass by from town to town, thinking you're gonna just forget them into the wind but you always find yourself in the same place. Begging for them to love you like a pathetic child missing their mommy..." Dean laughed for a moment, chuckling at his own stupid lies as the girl stared at him like he was straight out of a Men's Health magazine. "Never mind me, what about you? What do you must desire in life?" Dean asked, doing his best to seduce her. The girl laughed, leaning closer to her potential suitor.

"I wanna see the world. I just took this dead ass job to make my mom proud because I couldn't afford a college tuition. It's good to serve drinks once and a while, but at times it just grows stale. I want to travel the country, I want to become a country singer. I want to become rich from chart topping singles!" The girl explained, her imagination carrying her away.

"So you're telling me...you wanna become the next Miley Cyrus?" Dean inquired, his eyebrows quirked in tempting fascination.

"Well, you've gotta start somewhere, right?" The girl laughed as Dean put her hand in his, gently stroking her knuckles.

"You wanna see the world with me, then just come along for the ride." Dean leaned in closer, his lips a mere inch from hers. "There's a ticket to paradise waiting right here with me, baby."

Dean was about to lean in for a kiss, gently cupping the waitress's face as he expected to feel nothing, to forget about her the moment their lips touch. But Dean could feel Crowley's wicked eyes sear their way into the back of his head, stopping him from going too far. He could feel the swelling jealously burning in his heart. Cool, the plan is set in motion Dean thought Crowley will be mine.

The heated moment was interrupted by Crowley as he stood against the bar stall, watching Dean with nothing but displeasure in his eyes. The girl gasped in fright at seeing him, not expecting anyone to be watching them. Dean laughed at the sight.

"Dean, I knew I'd find you here. You know you don't have time to frolick with the pretty lass....you and I have business to intend to." Crowley sneered, that bitterness getting the best of him. He didn't like to see his pet getting attention from anyone else. Dean's eyes didn't meet with Crowley's but he could read every feeling in his partner's devilishly handsome face. That jealousy, that desire to kill anyone who threatened to drag Dean away from his hip. They were on a journey searching for destiny and purpose, and now they were drawn to each other.

"Crowley....always the Grinch. Don't you have anywhere else to be?" Dean questioned sarcastically, a faint smile growing on his lips. Crowley could read him like a book and it was only a matter of time before he discovered how deep his undying loyalty went.

"Easy there tiger, I'm not here to get in your hair. You've got better places to be and little miss sunshine here isn't good enough for you..." Crowley spat back, holding no qualms to getting under the renegade demon's skin.

"How about you go get yourself a Bloody Mary and we can talk about this another time, huh?" Dean demanded, that charismatic facade slowly melting away to something threatening. Dean got to his feet and looked into Crowley's eyes, lost in their hollow colours like there was a whole world burning in them. He could sense the jealousy and longing in his heart, the closeness between them so tense it could be cut down by a knife. In that moment, Dean wanted to pull Crowley under his embrace and kiss him under the red lights of the bar. But Dean didn't want to indulge on his passions just yet. He liked to see Crowley in such a doe eyed state, envious of the love he had for Dean like it was a curse. He was possessive of Dean like a child playing with his favourite toy, unwilling to let go. At the end of the night, Crowley would realise how much Dean means to him and play with him a little bit more. It was all coming together now. Dean had exposed Crowley's greatest weakness - his erotic crush on him.

"Am I interrupting something?" The girl stepped in between the two men as she could sense their tension in the air. They had a lot of things they needed to figure out. Trouble was brewing in their paradise.

"I excuse my partner's behaviour, he doesn't know a thing about respecting boundaries." Crowley's apology meant nothing, his eyes were focused on Dean, fuming with anger like a mother about to scold her naughty child. Like a wife who had just caught her husband cheating.

"I think it's time we had a little chat...come on Dean!" Dean moved away from Crowley's gaze and began to walk out of the bar, his stride confident and brash. Crowley soon followed after, sparing no kind regards to the girl who nearly stole Dean's heart.

Crowley followed Dean out of the bar into a dark alleyway as there was no passersby in sight. Only the shadow illuminated the murky cityscape as Dean smiled, proud to see Crowley's walls finally break down. Dean knew there was a part of him that considered Dean his forever and always, the same way he did. Dean's cold, dead heart felt bonded to the king of hell, like he was the only thing keeping him alive. If Crowley were to be torn away from him, then that demon part of him would cease to exist and he would be dead for good. Dean didn't want to lose this good fun while it lasted, Crowley made him come alive and he wanted to return that favour.

"What makes you think you deserve a little fun around here? You need to do some killing time Dean or that mark keeping you alive will fade. I'm sure you don't want to depart this earth again on painful terms." Crowley taunted, his voice alluring and dark like the devil on his shoulder. Dean scoffed at him, taking pride in the king's reviled misery as he was like a mouse trying to escape a trap, trying to break free from its chains and failing miserably.

"You see Crowley...you don't control me anymore..." Dean hissed, his words like a viper about to eat its prey alive. "You're mine. I think there's a part of you that thinks so too..." Dean was crawling his way into Crowley's heart, stirring the dead emotions inside him as he got into his partner's personal space, trying to awake the lovesick puppy inside of him. But Crowley just stood there nonchalantly, unaffected by Dean's rigorous flirting. He didn't seem unnerved or intimidated. He was waiting for Dean to make the next move like the piece of a very intricate puzzle.

"What's wrong squirrel, ruffled your tail feathers?" Crowley didn't get any time to breath as Dean threw him against the wall, his strong hands gripping at his throat as it took Dean every urge not to give him a slow and painful death.

Crowley gasped for air, trying to make himself out to be the vulnerable one as he didn't fight back, lost in the dark eclipse that was Dean's eyes. Dean could feel him writhe in pain under his iron hold, a feeling that would have brought the old him much needed satisfaction. But now something about this didn't feel like sworn enemies fighting, it was the start of a passionate, burning love. The tension was slowly escaping the humid air around them as Dean and Crowley's eyes were locked in an intense stare. They didn't know who would make the first move, but the night was alive with dancing sparks and conflict wasn't keeping them at arm's length anymore. Their fates were interwoven now and there was nothing to keep them apart.

"Let me share your world with you, Crowley? Whatever you want, I wanna be part of it..." Dean taunted, that seductive nature of his voice getting to Crowley, that burning sensation of desire causing his dick to explode like a cherry.

"I want to be a part of yours too..." Crowley growled, envious promises spilling from his tongue. He wanted to have Dean's love more than anything and it would kill him if he didn't indulge in his fantasies now.

Dean took the lead and kissed Crowley, the taste of his lips like red wine straight from a chalice. It was an addicting, soulful taste and Crowley wanted nothing more than to drown himself in it.

Dean was having the time of his life. He had never been so physically intimate with a man before and it brought out a new kind of hunger in him. All those years of suppression were now lost to the wind and all Dean wanted to do was to kiss him with wild passion. It awoke something fiery and torrid inside of him and it left him with a tempting desire to make Crowley into his moaning bitch.

Their tongues met like a sizzling  shockwave, giving each love like it was a complex display of dance. Crowley moaned at the wild sensation, the wet touch of his lips on his making his cold heart swoon.

"So this is your first time with the big boys, ye sugar plum? Am I too spicy for you?" Crowley spat, talking dirty to save his life as Dean was panting for breath, getting lost in the curves of his lips.

"I like you better when you use tongue....suits you...." Dean said amid the shaky breathes as their hands were roaming bodies. Their heated breathes became one, the smell of their shared sweat and cologne filling their lungs with ecstasy. Crowley buried his weathered head into the nape of the demon's neck, planting kisses into Dean's smooth skin as he craved for his touch, whining in delight like a starved man who hadn't ate in days. Crowley spread his love as Dean pushed his body heatedly against the wall, bodies mingled closely together as a loud bang echoed through the lone alleyway.

"Now, now...calm your jets, pretty boy. You don't want any witnesses..." Crowley hissed, expressing worry that their activities could attract unwanted attention amid the arousing pleasure.

"No one will see us....it's only you and me...just focus on me..." Dean didn't care if they were on the fringes of the public eye, being in Crowley's space was all that mattered to him. Dean should be worried about initiating sex right here in this moment. No one tends to treat people like him kindly these days. But the thrill was getting to his head and he couldn't find the need to care. It felt daring and exciting to try something new, especially when it was in the company of someone who felt as dark as he did. They were too focused on each other to care about what people would think because they were lost in their own beautiful and blistering world.

They were obscured in shadow as their mouths smeared against each other, arms wrapped around each other as Dean fell into his chest, caressing his face with sweltering kisses. He stroked a free hand over the king of hell's hairline as he pulled Crowley's shirt open, his chest exposed. Dean clung onto the man like an animal seeking validation from its owner as he kisses the wrinkled lines of Crowley's face. He had never seen such a beauty in a man's eyes before and he wanted to memorise every curve of his face before the moment faded to nothing inside his mind. His entire body was throbbing with searing arousal, begging to be touched as he began to shed each piece of clothing, the more deeper his make out sessions became.

"You seem eager to have fun with me, Dean Winchester? You always wanted a little male attention...." Crowley taunted, his voice deep and enticing. Dean had to suppress a moaning cry everytime he heard Crowley's voice as it sounded so beautiful, like a sailor at sea calling his name.

"I guess when you're a human, you have to hide who you really love....." Dean whispered, seducing him further into his world. "I like both girls and guys. Didn't really have time to explore it when I was alive....but now, it doesn't really matter cause' I'm dead....and I have you, my king...." Crowley kissed him back at that gesture, cradling his body closer to his warm embrace.

"I like a mix of both myself. Maybe I can show you a few tricks..." Crowley hissed, full of allure and tempting promises.

"That would be an offer I'd gladly seal with a kiss" Dean joked suggestively, hot and bothered as he cupped Crowley's face and kept kissing him over and over, like he was making art and his dashing boss was his very own canvas. Crowley was pinned to the wall like a crucifix, receiving his suitor's holy love as he was like a slithering snake when it came to sessions of love. He always waiting to make a move, to sink his teeth into Dean and make him his very own dearly beloved. He had a undying desire to spread hickies over Dean's exposed neck. He wanted to show Dean where his place was and that was in his arms.

"You really like to play a game with me, don't you squirrel?" Crowley suggested, a playful sneer in his voice. "I saw what you were trying to do with that girl....you were trying to get me to notice you...." Dean laughed at that statement, kissing the stubble on Crowley's grey chin.

"What a bottom thing to say.....I know you felt something for me, Crowley. You were mine....I wanted to make sure you knew that.....I haven't loved anyone so deeply before....I wanted you to know how much much you meant to me...." Dean's words became slurred the more kisses he spared, that burning hot sensation consuming him once again.

"So....all that fucking revolting karaoke....the proud kills you did for daddy....all that to get in my pants?"

"What... you didn't like my singing? I was only trying to turn you on, sweetheart...."

"Well it was working...how about you do more to pull my switch..."

Dean smiled charmingly as he began to undo the zipper on his trousers, those feelings of arousal finally got the escape they deserved. The next moment, Crowley was making his way inside Dean, their thighs closely knotted together. Dean had never felt more alive. He would never feel such an intense state of euphoria like this with a girl. To him, Crowley was no longer an enemy. He was much more than that. He was his bisexual awakening.

The night was still young and Dean and Crowley were wrapped in each other's arms, savouring their warm embrace. They were surrounded by scattered heaps of their clothes, their bodies bare and exposed in the dark light. Dean kept planting kisses onto his forehead as he didn't want this moment to end. As a demon, Dean felt the most alive knowing that Crowley was his. It felt so real and he didn't want to break free from those chains of love.

"So Dean...you got any other fetishes you wanna tell me about. I'm sure a demon is one of them?" Crowley teased, trying to keep his lover entertained. Dean laughed it off, it was like he was reading his mind.

"I guess the king of hell is the latest to join my list....let's see...Asian beauties...frisky women...pie...angels....Baby..." Dean chuckled, going over everything he considered a fetish in his life like he was going over the entire alphabet. Crowley made sure to make a mental list of all of them so he could find a way to spoil his pet. "And my favourite....men in cowboy hats. God, are they smokin' hot" Dean explained, a mischievous grin eating away at his face. Crowley scoffed, his love for this demon Dean growing. It only brought out his most irresistible qualities.

"How about one day, I can show you how to ride?" Crowley taunted, that familiar snark doing things to Dean's heart he didn't expect. All he wanted to do was kiss him so he could keep his mouth under lock and key.

Dean pulled Crowley towards him, kissing him with feverish passion. A part of him wanted time to stop and for him to hold his darling demon in his arms forevermore. But he knew it was also a burden, a curse he needed to carry as he satisfied that thirst for violence. For this to work, they needed to be partners in crime. Crowley and squirrel, as his king would drunkenly declare. But  he knew Crowley well enough to know that he would exploit their one night stand as leverage to do his dirty work. To serve his king, he needed to make sacrifices.

"How about after tonight, we don't talk about this. This time together...our little summer fling...we forget about it..." Dean admitted, giving Crowley a promise he couldn't refuse.

He expected the demon to show some resistance, to be deeply affected by his apathy but he remained cool and indifferent, like the feeling of being held in Dean's arms with such tenderness didn't faze him. He let out a forlorn sigh before meeting his gaze.

"I would like that very much...I'm tired of getting my hands dirty with you...I prefer the adventures of Crowley and Squirrel anyway. We make quite a team, you and I..." Crowley admitted, expressing the honesty that was swimming like a current in his thoughts. As much as he loved Dean and his mastery at foreplay, he was a rendezvous and nothing more. It was the one night in his long years of existence that actually gave him emotion, and he was grateful for that. But a one night stand was one night and one night only.

Dean held onto Crowley for comfort, allowing his fiery heart to keep him alive until the sun arose again, for the endless cycle of killing and thirsting desire to spill blood to begin again. They had a long road ahead of them and Dean had to be ready to take the wheel again. To become the feared demon people were to know him as. His past as a human and a selfless hunter was all in the past now. He was reborn as a demon and he was going to make a lot of bitches burn in hell. As Crowley's pet, they were going to be unstoppable. If this night taught him anything, it was to trust him with all his blood because a little bit of passionate love was going to poison him dead...

#drowley #dean winchester #crowley #dean x crowley #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #my writing #cross posted on ao3 #my headcanons #demon dean

[dressedwithred-if]

Hey! This sounds really cool and fun! What more can you tell us about Operation Penance? Like, when did they first surface? Have they been around longer than any other? Is it a group of people running it or one person? Things like that! If any of it is too spoilery, that's okay too! 🥰

Operation Penance has been a highly anonymous and secretive operation for over 54 years, in the present time- 55 years. Operation Penance is a cultivation of all the freedom, horrors, and hidden desires that have been hidden by it's assassins of which being mainly women and fems.

Operation Penance was supposed to be a form of liberation for women and a place in which they could reside in where their truest desires were not shied away but ultimately fulfilled. Operation Penance not only gives these women a chance at being respected greatly, but also so that they could be given another chance at life; an exhilarating and risky life at that. Operation Penance digs deeper into what the actual desires of the women in the Dressed With Red world are- all different viewpoints but they all follow back to one thing- power and bloodshed. It is a non-victimizing place to be in and is only suited towards the strongest, both in mind and in gut. They only accept those who have bad blood in some way as that is the driving force of Operation Penance.

Mikel Grey, having been in charge of Operation Penance for almost as long as it has existed- is the sole leader of Operation Penance himself. he has the cadence of a political leader, but carries himself otherwise. he is cheery but deadly as hell and is one who wouldn't like having his buttons pushed. he has co-leaders as well as trained assassins that he calls security that he keeps scattered in every sector of the Warehouse that he has built specific bonds to. he has been decided overall to call all the shots of his business. I won't tell you too much about him as it would include spoilers- but this man is much more than he makes himself out to be.

There have been opposing Operations, those of which specifically targeted Operation Penance under the guise of completely dismantling it. but due to its long lasting years and abundance of powerful and thoroughly trained assassins, all other Operations against it have ceased to exist after Operation Penance's power has only been upheld more and more. but you will see if there are any more foes coming in later on...

inbox open for lore & character asks

#DressedWithRed #interactive fiction #DWR — lore #DWR

[struggletights]

Near Death Experience

Story Time!

This outfit really isn't much. I wouldn't actually recommend anyone wear it out as it is. It's just a long-sleeved black compression shirt, black skirt, black tights, and black flats. For a long time, this was all I had, but it was enough for me then. I love being fully encased in super tight clothing with the flats, and the skirt was a nice compliment for me to look down at. I would wear this outfit for my own personal gratification, if you will. If you read my last little blog entry, you'll know the kind of stuff I like to do while I wear tights outfits. Lemme tell you one such story in this exact outfit.

I once had access to a pool all by myself. Completely secluded. No one else around. I knew I had to take advantage of it. One night, I snuck in wearing this outfit. I was incredibly scared and nervous at first. What if someone saw me, or heard me? I had to be careful and discreet. Really though, it just added to the excitement. After a minute or so of standing at the edge of the deep end, I slowly lowered myself into the water and fully submerged myself. Just floating underwater in the dead of night, wearing my tights, was such a liberating and gratifying experience. Nothing else to compare it to honestly. I was everything I had hoped for. Up to this point, I would wear this outfit and get into a bathtub. While fun in its own way, it just couldn't match being in a pool.

As I swam around and became more comfortable with my surroundings, I started getting risky and letting myself drift underwater for long periods of time. That rush struggling for air is exhilarating to me. Being in that panicked state, fully encased in tights, drifting underwater, desperate to breathe. That's what really gets me going. At some point that night, I decided to really push it. I had a way to fully bind myself, with my ankles secured and my wrist bound behind my back. I had practiced putting tying myself before like this, so I knew I wasn't in any real danger. I practiced moving around while bound in the shallow end. It was a real struggle to get around comfortably, but it was exactly what I wanted. I knew I had to try in the deep end.

I make my way to the deep end fully bound up. I make one last big breath of air. I then let myself sink to the bottom of the pool. For reference, this is a fairly deep pool. Probably between 8 or 10 feet at its deepest. I slowly exhale to let myself sink faster. I eventually hit the bottom of the pool, all tied up. It doesn't take me long to want to get back to the top for air. I try to undo my wrists, but I'm having some trouble. I can't feel around for the knot I made for myself. I try to reach for my ankles to undo that knot, but I can't reach it. The way I tied my ankles together made it near impossible to move myself in a way to just push off the bottom. I had to get my wrists untied, and fast. I frantically tried to untie my wrists, but nothing was working. I was running out of air fast at an alarming rate. I was trying so intensely to undo my wrists, I began squirming and contorting my body as I was running out of air.

I was drowning.

I started making noises and kicking my bound legs as I tried as hard as I could to untie my wrists. "MMPPHH! MMMMMMPPPHH!!!" MMMPPHH!!!!!!" This was really happening. I was actually drowning. It's one thing to desire being in that situation, but for it to actually happen to you is just unreal. It was terrifying, but exhilarating. It was completely pitch black underwater. I could not see around me. I could feel the bubbles up against my face as I began coughing up air. Was this it? Was I actually going to drown and die here? I'm actually getting chills just writing this out, thinking about those moments. But finally, just in time, I force one of my wrists out of the knot. My first instinct was to cover my mouth. I was letting out too much air and tried to force myself to hold more in. My ankles are still tied, but I couldn't hold it anymore. I need air now! With my ankles bound and one hand covering my mouth, I try to swim to the top. Every stroke I try to make, I kept covering my mouth with both hands, floating in pitch black darkness in a fetal position, squirming and kicking. "MMMMMMMPPPPPHHH MMMMMMPPHH MMMMPPPHHH!!!!!" I had to keep swimming to the top or I was going to drown. It took every last bit or air and energy I had, before finally.....

"GASP!!!!!!!!"

I make it to the top. Gasping desperately for air. I struggle to stay afloat because of my bound ankles. I eventually make my way to the ladder in the deep end. I can finally keep my head above water. I realized I had just survived a very real near drowning experience. I was so exhausted and tired and just wanted to lay down. I got out of the pool and just collapsed on the beside, in my soaking wet tights. I was terrified and told myself I would never do that again.

But nothing could possibly match the excitement and intensity of those moments. Nothing could ever compare to it. I still dream about one day being able to do that again. Maybe next time I'll try and film myself :)

#leggings #legs #collant #cross dressing #crossdresser #skirt #cute crossdreser #color pantyhose #dress #black flats #ballet flats #drowning #tights #choking #underwater #swimming pool #choke play

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

Kinky Costumes

Halloween, the season of ghost stories, terrifying tales, and playful costumes, provides an extraordinary opportunity to explore and express the aspects of our personalities that might otherwise remain hidden from the world. For those in the D/S lifestyle, Halloween serves as a unique canvas to let our kinkier sides come to light, all within the guise of fun and make-believe. It is a time to embrace the power of agency, allowing us to decide who knows about our desires while navigating the blurred line between fantasy and reality.

Halloween is all about transformation. It is the one day of the year when anyone can become someone or something else entirely. The act of putting on a costume gives us a sense of liberation, allowing us

to explore and express facets of ourselves that we might otherwise keep hidden. This can be an especially exhilarating experience for those in the lifestyle, who may find comfort in the anonymity provided by their chosen Halloween alter-egos.

Within the confines of D/S, there are elements of power exchange, role-playing, and submission that might be deeply fulfilling but less understood or accepted in the broader social context. Halloween offers a unique opportunity to playfully embody these desires and fantasies. Whether you are stepping into the role of a powerful dominant or a willing submissive, your costume can be an extension of your kinkier side, providing a glimpse into your desires without judgment.

What makes Halloween truly special is the agency it bestows upon individuals. You have the choice to reveal as much or as little about your true desires as you would like. It is entirely up to you whether you wish to let friends, family, or even strangers in on your secret. This power of choice is a fundamental aspect of the D/S lifestyle, emphasizing the importance of consent and control over one's experiences.

One of the captivating aspects of Halloween is the way it blurs the boundary between fantasy and reality. As participants in the D/S lifestyle, you are well-acquainted with the nuances of role-play and the exhilaration it can bring. Halloween provides the perfect backdrop to explore these fantasies, making them feel even more accessible and enjoyable.

Halloween is a time when society celebrates diversity in all its forms. People don costumes that represent a wide range of characters and identities, embracing the idea that it is perfectly normal to explore and express different facets of our personalities. This celebration of diversity aligns with the principles of acceptance and non-judgment that underlie the D/S lifestyle, reminding us that there is beauty in embracing our true selves.

Halloween is not only a night for trick-or-treating and scary decorations; it is a celebration of self-expression and the power of choice. For those in the D/S lifestyle, it offers a unique opportunity to unmask and reveal a bit of our kinkier sides, all within the protective cocoon of costumes and make-believe. The power to decide who knows about our desires remains firmly in our hands, just as it does in the D/S lifestyle itself. Halloween serves as a reminder that embracing our true selves, in all their complexity, can be a liberating and fulfilling experience. So, this October, as you don your costume, remember that it is not just an outfit but a way to celebrate your desires and enjoy the fun of exploring your kinkier side, even if only for one night.

If you enjoyed this, I invite you to give my podcast a listen 'Chatting With The Lightkeeper,' a top 25% most-followed podcasts on Spotify but available on all the major podcasting apps and follow my socials for more exclusive content: Instagram, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) for a deeper dive into the wonderful world of D/S.

As with all of my thoughts, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2023

#d/s relationship #bd/sm community #dom/sub #d/s community #my writing

[aeoki]

High and Low: At World’s End - Chapter 12

Location: Australian Land Characters: Tetora, Hinata & Mitsuru

Season: Autumn Writer: Akira

TL Note:

Mitsuru mistakes the Japanese word for “back / 後ろ (ushiro)” with the word for “castle / お城 (oshiro)”.

Tetora: …Ah, sorry. I just ended up complaining. Definitely wasn’t fun to listen to, right?

Hinata: It’s fine~ I’ll listen if you need someone to. 80% of “2wink’s” work is listening to Yuuta-kun complain, after all. I’m used to it.

Tetora: You’re kidding with the 80%.

Hinata: If anything, that’s all I can do. Sorry, I can’t do anything for you.

Tetora: It’s not like I’m expecting you to. It’s our problem.

Hinata: Yeah… As someone watching from the sidelines, it makes me want to put my two cents in too, but that’s all I can do, really.

Tetora: Osu. In the end, we’re the ones that have to resolve our own issues.

There’s no such thing as a hero who appears out of nowhere to solve your problems, after all.

Hinata: Hm~... I feel like I’ve had this conversation before.

It was the same for me, actually. We tried to fix our issues on our own but we couldn’t do a thing and we ended up at a standstill.

I didn’t expect anyone to come save us, though.

You’re the only one who can fix your own problems. That’s the truth. But if you don’t change, then nothing will ever be resolved.

And in order to change, everyone needs a little push from the outside.

I guess that’s the lesson I learnt from the “Setsubun Festival”. I feel like I’ve shown way too much of my embarrassing sides in that event, so I don’t really wanna remember it all.

The feeling of being liberated and being able to move forward still remains within me.

We can change by connecting with others. We can evolve with our surroundings and grow into someone strong.

Or so we thought and that’s why we decided to join CosPro, even though they’re technically Yumenosaki’s enemy.

Being in the vortex of the enemy is pretty exhilarating, right?

I can’t really say anything too patronising, but it would be nice if “RYUUSEITAI’s” change can be a positive one like the things I’ve mentioned.

Tetora: So much for evolving, we’re just deteriorating.

The world has changed so much.

It feels like we’ve just gone back to square one and that really stresses me out.

But all we can do is move forward on the path we chose one step at a time.

It irritates me that Midori-kun doesn’t feel that way at all.

Hinata: The gossip has sure made its way around~ Shinobu-kun must have it hard being stuck between you and Midori-kun ♪

Tetora: Yeah, Shinobu-kun always has the short end of the stick…

Mitsuru: ………

Tetora: Ah, sorry again. Tomoya-kun told me to talk about stuff like this outside and that’s what I did.

But that kinda stuff’s got nothing to do with you and it’s not something you’d be interested in, so you must’ve been bored, right?

Mitsuru: Hmm~ People around me talk about stuff I don’t understand every day, y’know?

Hinata: Ahaha. You don’t get it, right~? Things are like that for you, huh.

Mitsuru: Hmph. Even I know the feeling of frustration after not being about to get what you want, y’know?

In short, Tetsu-chan and Hinata-chan are the same as me – you guys are feeling frustrated that things aren’t working out the way you wanted them to.

Not being able to set a new running record, seeing the sales for our new song not do so great, seeing Mike-chan-senpai not accepting my challenge and running away…

Not being able to make my friend who was hospitalised all better by snapping my fingers…

I’ve got a lotta things I’m frustrated and not happy with, y’know?

But I’m me! I’m supposed to be a superstar that can do anything!

It’s frustrating that reality isn’t like that.

Hinata: ………

Mitsuru: ? What’s with that look? I’m not depressed or anything so you don’t have to worry about that, y’know!

It’s not like I can do everything but there should be something I can do! That’s what I believe and that’s why I’m looking at this map trying to find the best route–

Hinata: No, it’s not about that… Mitsuru-kun, behind you.

Mitsuru: A castle[*] ? Why a castle? Does Australia have castles too?

Tetora: Not a castle but behind you! Mitsuru-kun, it’s right behind you! It’s there!

Mitsuru: What’s there…?

………

There’s a kangaroo~!?

Hinata: Y-Yeah! I was so focused on what you were saying, I didn’t even notice it was behind you! How long has it been there!?

Tetora: Ahhh, where’s my camera…? Ugh, they took our phones away so I can’t take a picture! What a waste!

Hinata: D-Don’t be so loud! It’ll run away!

Mitsuru: Hm~...? When I thought someone was watching me, was it the kangaroo this whole time?

Hey, kangaroo~! How long have you been watching us?

Tetora: Y-You shouldn’t go up to it so carelessly! I’ve heard that kangaroos are surprisingly aggressive! Apparently, someone got kicked by one and died!

Mitsuru: Wahaha! Then, it’s on~! Baam~☆

Hinata: Don’t, that’s so dangerous!

Tetora: Yeah! You don’t really see wild animals in Japan, so you might’ve forgotten but humans can only take on animals once we’re armed!

Humans can’t even take on cats or pigs on their own! A famous martial artist said that once!

Mitsuru: I’m not planning on fighting it, y’know~? It’s okay, come over here~♪ Hey, what do kangaroos eat? Australian food?

Tetora: Like I said, why’re you going near it~!?

Hinata: Ahaha. Thanks to the kangaroo's entrance, the stuff we were talking about just went out the window ♪

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#high and low

[hotilhotil]

Israel is a beautiful country

<a href="https://www.sexy1.co.il/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">נערות ליווי</a> Israel is a beautiful country filled with ancient history, stunning beaches, and a vibrant nightlife. As one of the top tourist destinations in the world, it's no surprise that it also has a thriving escort industry. While escort services may still carry a taboo stigma in some parts of the world, in Israel, it is a legal and booming business with a wide range of options for individuals and couples looking to add some excitement to their trip. What sets Israeli escort girls apart from other countries is their unique blend of beauty, passion, and intelligence. These women are not just hired for their physical appearance, but also for their ability to engage and entertain their clients. Many of the women in this industry are highly educated, multilingual, and well-traveled, making them ideal companions for any kind of social event. One of the key factors driving the popularity of escort services in Israel is the country's liberal culture and acceptance of diverse sexual orientations. This environment creates a safe and welcoming space for both clients and escorts, allowing them to openly explore their desires without judgment. This openness also opens the door for clients to have more satisfying and authentic experiences with their chosen escorts. Another reason for the thriving escort industry in Israel is its unique geography. The country is small, which means that clients and escorts can easily travel between cities, making it convenient to meet up and explore different places together. From the bustling streets of Tel Aviv to the historic city of Jerusalem, there is no shortage of options for an exciting and adventurous date. Israeli escort girls also have a strong understanding and appreciation of their country's culture and traditions. They are proud to showcase their heritage and take their clients on unforgettable experiences that go beyond just the physical aspect of their services. Many escorts offer tours and activities that allow clients to immerse themselves in the local culture, whether it be a traditional meal in a Jewish home or a visit to a historical site. Additionally, many escorts in Israel have flexible schedules, allowing them to cater to the diverse needs of their clients. Whether it be a date for a few hours, a romantic weekend getaway, or a business trip companion, Israeli escorts are known for their ability to adapt and cater to the specific desires of their clients. But perhaps what truly sets Israeli escort girls apart is their innate sense of femininity and passion. They exude confidence and know how to make their clients feel desired and satisfied. These women are masters at creating a comfortable and enjoyable atmosphere, making even the most nervous clients feel at ease and ready to enjoy their time together. With its liberal culture, stunning scenery, and passionate escort girls, Israel has become a top destination for those seeking an exhilarating and unique escort experience. The country offers a safe and welcoming environment where clients and escorts can explore their deepest desires and create unforgettable memories. So, whether you're a tourist looking for a fun and memorable experience or a local seeking some excitement, Israeli escort girls are ready to provide an unforgettable and enchanting experience.

[pashterlengkap]

An open letter to Bridget Zeigler, the newly outed queer who enjoys having sex with women

Dear Bridget Zeigler, You’ve recently been outed, publicly humiliated, and criticized in headlines nationwide because of your threesomes with an unnamed woman and their seeming contradiction to the anti-LGBTQ+ policies pushed in public schools by the group you co-founded, Moms for Liberty. Related: Moms for Liberty is going to open a taxpayer-funded charter school One critic said the school would create more little Moms for Liberty. It seems terribly unfair to me anytime anyone — even you — is persecuted for their private consensual sex lives. With this in mind, I wanted to ask you some intensely personal questions about your sex with that woman — putting aside, for the moment, that she has since accused your husband of raping and non-consensually recording videos of her in your absence. Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. My questions will likely come off as rude, possibly misogynist, and definitely none of my business, but please hear me out and withhold judgment, for I hope they may lead you (and others like you) to a greater realization. Did you like that woman? Did you enjoy sex with her? Was it pleasurable? Fun? Were you attracted to her body, her personality? Did you like the fact that you could be naked, vulnerable, and try new things with her? Did it feel innocent, playful, loving, kind? Did being with her make you feel adventurous, sexy and exhilarated, liberated and carefree? Did she make you feel differently about sex and yourself, about your own body, about the way you interact with other women? Did she change how you understood yourself, how you see the possibilities of life? When you were with her, did it feel like you were doing something terrible, negative, harmful, or wrong? That you should be shamed, fired, or forced out of public life for it? That you were doing something so awful, that if you wrote about it in a book, it should be taken off of library shelves and hidden away from others? Would you like to have sex with a woman again? How old were you the first time you thought that you could be attracted to someone of the same gender? Back then, did you ever wish you could talk to someone your own age or older about those feelings without being judged or shamed? Did you wish you could talk to or read writing from someone knowledgeable, a caring adult or peer who might help you understand those feelings? Did you feel like your attraction to women meant you were a child “predator” who wanted to harm kids in any way? I’m asking all of these questions to help you realize something: That you yourself helped engineer the public shaming that you’re currently experiencing. Every day, you help create a world where people just like you are persecuted and hated for what they do, privately and consensually, behind closed doors — a world where queer people are killed and sometimes kill themselves because others hate and fear their public presence. You claim you personally authored Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill, a bill that fueled a national movement to remove books, classroom discussions, and lessons that include LGBTQ+ people from public schools. Your group and its followers have said that queer people like you — yes, you are a queer now — are dangerous and “sexualizing” children. Your followers and allies have threatened to shoot educators and to bomb schools (killing hundreds of kids inside) if they even dare mention that queers like you exist. Is this the world you actually want? Where queer kids and adults like you are taught that they’re a threat to other kids, that their lives are shameful and pornographic, that they’re mentally ill, and we need laws to prevent them from influencing other kids? Where a mom like you is treated like a sex freak who should be run out of her community just because she kissed a girl? You don’t realize that the… http://dlvr.it/T1xqy1

[ankurverma]

Discover the Thrill of Flying: Paragliding in Jaipur.

If you're looking for an adventure that will take you to new heights, then paragliding in Jaipur is the perfect activity for you. Jaipur, the Pink City of India, offers some of the best paragliding experiences in the country, with its stunning landscapes and picturesque terrain.

Paragliding is a unique adventure in jaipur  that involves flying through the air with a parachute-like canopy. It requires skill, bravery, and a love for adventure, but it's an experience that is worth the effort. Here are some reasons why paragliding in Jaipur is a must-try adventure:

A Bird's Eye View of Jaipur: Paragliding in Jaipur offers a bird's eye view of the city and its surrounding areas. From high up in the sky, you can see the magnificent Amber Fort, the iconic Hawa Mahal, and the stunning Jal Mahal. You'll also get to see the beautiful Aravalli mountain range, which provides the perfect backdrop for your paragliding adventure.

Thrilling Experience: Paragliding is an adrenaline-pumping adventure that will leave you feeling exhilarated and alive. As you soar through the sky, you'll feel the wind rushing past you, and you'll be able to take in the stunning views of Jaipur from a whole new perspective. It's an experience that you'll never forget.

Safe and Fun: Paragliding in Jaipur is a safe and fun activity that is suitable for people of all ages and skill levels. You'll be accompanied by experienced instructors who will ensure that you have a safe and enjoyable experience. They will guide you through the basics of paragliding and help you to take off and land safely.

Accessibility: Jaipur is well-connected to other major cities in India, making it easy to get to. There are plenty of paragliding operators in the city that offer a range of packages to suit different budgets and preferences. You can choose from a variety of flight durations and heights, depending on your level of experience and comfort.

Memorable Experience: Paragliding in Jaipur is a unique and unforgettable experience that will stay with you for a long time. It's an adventure that will give you a sense of freedom and liberation that is hard to find anywhere else. You'll return home with memories that you'll cherish forever.

Paragliding in Jaipur is an adventure that you must try at least once in your lifetime. It's a safe, fun, and unique experience that will take you to new heights and give you a whole new perspective on the world around you. So, pack your bags, book your adventure, and get ready to discover the thrill of flying in Jaipur.

[waywardrose13]

Touch of Betrayal

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst, smut, smidge of fluff, graphic abuse, graphic depictions of injuries, fucked up coven, language, all the angst, not enough editing to satisfy me

Word Count: 20,538

Summary: As the oldest sibling, Y/n was supposed to be sacrificed for the betterment of her coven. After her escape, she meets Bobby Singer, who takes her under his wing. It is no secret Dean Winchester hates witches, but Y/n is different, and Dean begins to question his feelings. When Sam is threatened and Dean is given an ultimatum, the trust and feelings that have grown between Y/n and Dean is jeopardized. The touch of betrayal stings.

Commissioned by anonymous:)

A/N- To the lovely soul who commissioned this fic, I hope you enjoy!

Y/N

You could feel the blood from the shackles trickling down your fingers, dripping onto the backs of your bare knees. Shivering, the autumnal air bit at your skin and seeped into your bones. The cold wasn’t the only thing making you shiver, however. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the gold blade laying on the stone pedestal in front of you. Soon, that blade would slice through not only your throat, but four other eldest children of the founding families; Freya, age twenty-four; Marxicus, age twenty-two; Sera, age twenty; Gunthias, age twenty-two; and finally, you, the youngest at twenty-one.

The thin slip hanging from your body did nothing against the cold, your bare limbs exposed to the night air, droplets of blood dotting the backs of your legs. Those damn shackles had cut into your wrists for three days. You could feel how raw your skin was beneath the cool metal. However, it didn’t really matter seeing how you would be dead once the moon reached its apex.

Sera was sobbing loudly to your left. Some of the coven, maybe a handful, looked on empathetically. The majority stared with disgust at her emotional state. Your mother’s words rang in your head from the night before. “This is an honor. Do not embarrass me tomorrow.”

You scanned the gathering. Many people were drinking goblets of harvest mead, others were conversing lowly in small packs. Many people were simply watching you and the other sacrifices, taking in every inch, as if staring so intently would siphon even more power.

No one caught your eye in particular. Not until you spotted him.

His dark eyes were trained on you intently. Biting your lip to keep it from wobbling, you took a deep, steadying breath. Don’t embarrass me, don’t embarrass me, don’t embarrass me.

As the world faded away, you and Jasper locked in a silent pining, you wondered what it would have been like if you had been able to go through with the wedding. As a female within the coven, you were obligated to have children unless you absolutely couldn’t, so maybe the two of you would have had a few kids, settled in a cabin on the outskirts of the compound. The marriage may have been arranged, but you were friends before lovers. You were lucky when it came to that. Most people were strangers up until their wedding night. You had the privilege of at least knowing Jasper, even if you weren’t friends until after the arrangement had been made. You would have been happy.

Instead, your heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again, the thought of him marrying someone else and fathering someone else’s children. You weren’t sure if you loved him like that. Yes, you loved him. He was your best friend. You loved him with everything you had. However, you weren’t sure if you were in love with him. It was rare that the marriages in the coven had any love. You could see yourself falling for him, though. If given the opportunity, he would be easy to fall in love with.

Of all those secret meetings and passionate embraces, you wondered what it would have been like to be together in the public eye. Sneaking off was fun and thrilling, the secrecy and forbidden joinings exhilarating and they certainly helped you fuel the rebellion against your parents and the coven. You two weren’t supposed to be together in any way, even in a friendly manner, until after the wedding. But those meetings? After finding out about your arrangement, you two decided to get to know each other on your terms, not your parents’. Those friendly meetings had turned into so much more, and they were fun. Fun was a rarity in the coven. You and Jasper always had fun. He was a fantastic lover, much more experienced than you were, seeing as he had been your first. You two never spoke about it. It just sort of happened one night. There was no true romance, no heart skipping love. Just two friends having some fun before they were married. 

Then your older brother Danny had died, and suddenly your world had crashed down around you. You were suddenly the oldest child. You were going to be sacrificed, the power transferring to you the moment Danny took his last breath. Not only had you lost your best friend, but your future had been rewritten; the arrangement made for you and Jasper had withered, and you were going to be murdered in a blood sacrifice in three years. 

You and Jasper no longer were to be married, but that didn’t stop the meetings. That didn’t stop the passion. After Danny, you needed the distraction. You spent more nights with Jasper than you did alone. Not that he complained.

Your last night of freedom was different. Typically, the nights spent together were fast, primal, and more often than not, rough. Three nights ago, your final night spent free, or as free as you could get inside the coven, was spent with your family. Then after they had gone to bed, your mother excited for your honorable sacrifice, your siblings looking forward to furthering their power, and your father despondent and sullen- the thought of losing another child weighing on him- you had snuck out to meet with Jasper for the final time. And like he had been your first time, he was slow and tender. Emotion poured from him and it had frightened you. You knew he felt more for you than you did for him. You also knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way, not knowing your fate. You couldn’t give into your own temptation, or let him taste the sweet tang of the promise of forever, not when you were being ripped from the world by a cruel hand. You two had spent the whole night together, words a rarity, speaking with your bodies, saying goodbye. He was your best friend, your confidant and solace. The person you wished you had the time to love.

He stepped closer to the circle of stones, face still shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering orange lanterns hung by iron wroughts. Ever so slowly, he lifted a hand, a deep yellow spark igniting at the tips of his fingers. They settled there for a moment, glowing bright in the dark, but no one seemed to notice. No. This was for you and you only. Jasper loved art, and that’s what his magic was. The light danced in his palm and glided around in swirls in the air above his outstretched arm. 

He was distracting you. Keeping your mind elsewhere as the elders, cloaked in the charcoal gray robes of their ancestors, stepped up onto the dais. Grisha, the High Priestess of your coven, chanted in latin. If you paid more attention, you could know what she was saying. But you stayed focused on Jasper, even as his figure trembled in the light, face pinched to keep emotion from showing. Your heart ached at the sight and you so desperately longed to run your fingers through his chocolate curls one last time. Wanted to feel his strong hand in yours. Wanted to run away from here with him.

But if there was something Jasper was, it was loyal. And his family came before you. He would never leave them, never leave the compound or abandon the coven. Not even for you.

As a founding family, your father was amongst the robed figures. It was by the hand of the creator who committed the sacrifice. For generations, parents held the golden blade to their children’s throat to spill their blood upon the stones. You glanced down at your bare knees, noting the stone’s color; black and a deep gray. The stones were once as pale gray as the standing stones that formed the circle. But each sacrificial slab had held so much death, the color was no longer so.

It made you shiver.

The light flickered brighter across the circle and you raised your eyes to Jasper again. His own dark eyes were pleading with you across the grass, begging you to keep your gaze on him. Begging you to stay locked with him for as long as you could.

So you obliged.

Sera was first. The volume of her sobs increased. She screamed and pleaded with her mother, blubbering and crying until suddenly, she gurgled, and a thud echoed ominously across the circle. You shook violently and you were afraid of collapsing. Jasper brightened his tendrils of light, forming small animal shapes; rabbits hopping, birds flying, butterflies flitting. His distractions only went so far.

Marxicus was next. He had been stone still and completely silent. As his father raised the blade to his throat, all he said was, “sancti libera me.”

Saints liberate me.

The blade smoothly sliced open his throat, and he slumped to the stone heavily.

Freya cursed at her father, both in English and in Italian, snapping and snarling and fighting until the end. She didn’t die immediately. She had fought hard enough that the blade hadn’t sliced through her artery. Her father gripped a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back before pressing harder and deeper into her throat until blood sprayed across his face and her body fell.

You thought you might vomit. Or faint. Or both.

Gunthias pleaded without tears, but begged nonetheless. You saw the blade slice his throat from the corner of your eye, watching as his body fell and slipped half-way off the stone slab.

Finally, as the youngest, you were up. You were shaking so hard, you thought you might fall if it wasn’t for your father’s hand landing on your shoulder. Jasper’s light flickered slightly, dulling into small swirls of yellow dust around his palm. He was too frightened to conjure enough power. He half turned, as if he was going to run, but thought better of it. His eyes never left yours.

Yours left his, however. You scanned the crowd one last time for your family. It didn’t take you long. Your siblings were hugging each other, the twins- Margot and Matthias, both clinging onto each other as if their lives depended on it. Your mother stood over them, hands clasped beneath her chin, lips murmuring a prayer to the Gods as she watched with eyes full of elation. She smirked lightly at you as she caught your gaze, giving you a deep nod.

You looked away quickly, finding Jasper one last time. He was still there, as he said he would be. Always. 

The blade was wet and sticky with blood against your throat. You trembled and murmured a prayer to your Gods, wishing for a quick death, hoping the afterlife was as glorious as promised, hoping this was fucking worth it-

The blade swiped through the air, missing you by mere inches, before it lodged itself into Grisha’s chest.

Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd as the High Priestess shrieked and keeled over, clutching at her chest as she began to spasm. You met Jasper’s eyes one more time, his face stunned and eyes impossibly wide. Your father gripped you under your arms and lifted you from the slab. 

Then you two were running.

Your father raised his shields as the coven went wild. Many people cowered in fear. Your father had just killed the High Priestess. If he did that, what was stopping him from killing them?

Others were sending out powerful blasts of energy to slow you two down. But your father simply gripped your arm tighter and sprinted from the circle and into the field, the tall grass whipping at your bare legs, your feet slicing from thorns, but you didn’t care. You were escaping. You could do this.

“Faster, Y/n/n!”

You pumped your legs until they burned as the two of you ran. Shouts and battle cries erupted from behind you and you knew the two of you were being chased. Of course you would be. They couldn’t finish the sacrifice. The power would not be fully replenished. 

You had to die.

But you didn’t want to. You spent your whole life confined inside the damn coven, in the damn compound. You wished to see the world, wanted to experience life outside. You wanted to live- for you and for Danny.

“Faster. Please, run faster!”

Your father pulled you along until you were nearly stumbling. He noticed and sent a quick surge of purple light, the shackles bound to your wrists bursting apart. You winced as the air hit your raw skin but you were now able to run with more balance.

Finally, you broke through the trees. The confinement within the branches helped shield you from the onslaught of power surges being sent your way. If you were caught, not only would you be killed, but your father would be too. He would be deemed a traitor to the coven, and treason was the highest offense you could commit.

“Where are we going?” You panted between breaths. Your lungs burned and you tried your best to ignore it, but you had never been one for running or for sports. Not to mention, you had been locked away in the Harvest Rite cabin for three days, shackled to a “room” that was really a cell, locked from the sunlight for three days so the harvest moon would touch your spirit better or some shit. Honestly, you had no idea, not interested in the faux explanation the coven founders had spouted centuries ago. 

“Anywhere but here,” your father said breathlessly. “We need to get you somewhere safe. Then we can-”

Red light collided with your father’s back, sending him sprawling. You yelled in surprise and skidded to a halt, falling to your knees beside him. The magic seeped into his back and erupted through his chest in bloody bursts, clawing its way free. 

“Daddy!”

“Go! Y/n, please! Go!”

You shook your head and sobbed, covering his chest with your hands, his blood warm against your chilled skin. 

“No, no I can’t leave you!” You said. The shouting grew louder and you knew the ones chasing you were close. But how were you to leave him? Especially when he risked himself for you.

“You must. Please, Y/n/n. Please.” His eyes, ones matching yours, pleaded with you behind light lashes. He retched, blood dribbling from his lips. He gripped your hands with his. “I would die a thousand deaths before I would let them kill you. I… I can’t lose… another one.”

You knew he was talking about Danny, about that fateful day that your older brother had drowned in the lake. How the grief had radiated from your father so potently, it physically pained you. It was the worst day of your life. Now you had to watch another person you loved die.

“Don’t go,” you whispered. “Please don’t go.” You laid your forehead to his, the metallic scent of blood surrounding you. 

“I… I love you… I… want you to… live… for me… and for… D-Danny… Please… run.”

“I love you, too,” you said. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and pushed yourself up, giving him one more glance, torn between running and fighting the bastards who did this.

“Go. Please. I love you. Go,” he said weakly. His body went limp and you knew that was it.

Letting a scream of outrage bubble in your chest, you vowed to personally kill every single last one of the fuckers who did this. You vowed to avenge your father. Freya. Marxicus. Gunthias. Sera.

Yourself.

Letting your shields surround you and your glamour conceal you, you turned and sprinted deep into the woods, trying to keep your anger and sorrow at bay long enough to prepare yourself to step foot into the outside world for the first time in your twenty-one years of life.

DEAN

“Screw you.”

Dean laughed and reached forward to scoop up Sam’s cards, shuffling them with the larger stack of cards in the center of the table. He had won three games in a row now, and he was pushing for a fourth. 

“Admit it, Sammy,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “You just suck.”

“Shut up, jerk. Deal the damn cards.” Sam sat forward and shook out his hands. Dean snickered and dealt cards to himself and his brother.

“Quit while you can, bitch,” Dean said. “Losing four times in a row? Pathetic.”

“Will you two shut the hell up?” The brothers looked up at the doorway, Bobby trudging in from the hallway with a beer in one hand and a leather bound book in the other. “Some of us need to research.”

Dean sipped his own beer and threw a handful of salted peanuts into his mouth. “How much more research could you possibly have to do? Don’t you ever just… chill?”

Sam furrowed his brows, mouthing the word “chill?” to his brother. Since when had they known Bobby to “chill?”

Bobby grumbled something under his breath and sat down at his desk. “Maybe if you researched more, you wouldn’t have to ask me for help all the time.”

Sam spit out his beer, doubling over in laughter. Dean wasn’t as amused and he threw his next handful of peanuts at his brother. 

“Children,” Bobby muttered. 

The rest of the night went by in a similar manner. Dean won the fourth round, and the fifth, and then Sam finally gave up before suggesting a new game in which he promptly beat Dean’s ass. Bobby silently read and scribbled notes, answering a phone call around nine.

“You boys up for a hunt?”

Dean rubbed his hands together and lifted his brows. “When aren’t we?”

“Dean, we just finished one yesterday,” Sam said, putting the stack of cards back into the worn box. Dean shrugged and got up from his seat.

“Sounds simple, probably a vengeful spirit,” Bobby said, handing Dean his notes. Dean read over them to himself before silently handing them to Sam who did the same thing. “Should be a one and done thing.”

“Yeah, why not?” Sam sighed.

Bobby waved the brother’s off, Dean speeding from the long, dirt driveway with AC/DC blasting from the stereo. Sam chewed lightly on the tip of his pen as he made some of his own marks to Bobby’s notes.

“So what, you're gonna find another hunt right after this one again? Maybe it’ll take you twelve hours instead of a full day next time.”

Dean’s hands curled tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He liked hunting, so what? Was he throwing himself into hunts more often than not recently? Sure. But they helped. They helped with the rage that simmered beneath his hands. They helped with the itching feeling he got whenever he thought of hell.

Fucking hell.

Literally.

It hadn’t even been three months since he returned to the land of the living. Sam was still in the dark and Dean planned on keeping it that way. He wouldn’t subject his younger brother to the horrors of hell, what he experienced or what he did. He shared everything with Sam. He wanted to keep this to himself.

Hunting helped relieve some of that pent up aggression and fear that burned beneath his bones like fire. Saving people, hunting things. That was his motto, right? Saving people now when he couldn’t in hell, when he caused people pain. Hunting things and killing them to let out some of that burning rage.

If Sam suspected anything, he didn’t say so. Dean thought he might have a few times, but he would quickly change the subject or cut him off. 

No chick-flick moments. Another motto he planned to live by.

So he pressed a little harder on the gas pedal, Baby revving beneath him, trees a blur outside his window. He simply let himself drive and listen to his music, thankful he even got to do this, that he could hunt and be with his brother and live.

Even if he wasn’t truly free from the confinement of his own mind, or the burdens of his guilt.

Y/N

It had been nearly a week since you escaped.

A week of hiding and traveling.

You had no money, no way of knowing where you were, no knowledge of anything besides your coven.

Luckily, it seemed you were in the middle of nowhere. You had come across a rundown building with broken windows and shutters that hung from their hinges. Taking a peek inside, you realized it must have been abandoned ages ago. Branches, leaves, and cobwebs littered the inside. You had carefully maneuvered around the broken glass and into a small room. A moth-eaten couch sat cockeyed in the old living room, drapes pooled on the floor beneath the dirt covered windows, dusty books and picture frames laid forgotten on the floor underneath wall to wall shelves.

You still shivered in your shift, but there were a pair of boots by the front door. A quick inspection found the inside to be worn but wearable. After plucking out leaves and a small spider in one of them, you slipped them onto your feet. They were a bit big on you, but they would have to do until you could figure out your next course of action.

You raided the house, finding a small backpack to take with you. You couldn’t stay in a place like this. The only furniture was that god-awful couch and a table in one of the upstairs rooms. But you found a pocket knife, a flashlight (with no batteries), and you had taken a few of the books from the floor, stuffing the items in the backpack before continuing with your journey.

For the rest of the week, you would find small places to settle for the night within the woods. Cover beneath large rocks, crannies between cliffs, in the low branches of trees. You didn’t dare risk making a fire, not with your coven on the lookout for you. Instead, you would summon a warm ball of light to keep you from freezing to death. You would nestle the light and smaller droplets of light around your body as you slept, one hand on the pocket knife, the other cradling your head as a pillow.

You thought of your father every waking hour.

You missed him so much. It seemed as if he was the only one in your family who actually cared about you. Your siblings were too young to really understand anything about the coven, and they saw you more as a prized possession than an older sister. Your mother was devoted to the coven and its members. She loved you. In her own way. But not like your siblings. You were a possession. A thing full of intense power that would eventually return that power to the coven to fuel and replenish it.

You hated it.

You hated that damn coven and its traditional ways. You heard of covens that were modernized and didn’t sacrifice, covens that lived in the modern world. You didn’t know if they were real or not.

You wished your father was with you. He loved you and cherished you as a daughter, not a weapon. You two had always been close. And it was because of you that he was dead.

A week went by, and you were walking along a dark road. The road was made of black stone, white dotted lines painted down the center. You weren’t completely ignorant of the outside world. You knew what roads were, had heard about cars and telephones.

That amongst other little things was all you knew.

Being alone was terrifying. 

You allowed yourself to cry. Your mother always told you crying was a sign of weakness, but she wasn’t here. You were alone. For the first time, you were alone in a world that was foreign to you. But you were free.

A low rumbling sounded from behind you. Turning, you caught sight of a large machine barreling towards you. Wheels spun quickly and two lights flashed in your face from the front of it.

A car.

You watched in awe as it sped past you and then stopped a little distance ahead. A man in jeans and a flannel pushed open a door and slipped from the raised seat. A hat with a brim shading his eyes sat on his head, a gray beard covering the bottom of his face. He took a few steps towards you which made you step back.

“You alright, girl?”

His voice was gruff and slightly accented. It reminded you of your father’s voice. You subconsciously took a step towards him, desperate to hang on to that feeling of familiarity that had to do with your father’s memory.

“Miss?”

You stopped when you realized he was taking steps towards you. What was the worst that could happen? If the man tried to hurt you, you would be able to stop him with a single thought. You were a witch, and a damn powerful one. He doesn’t even know witches exist.

“Can I drive you anywhere?”

“No,” you answered honestly. Where could you go? You had nowhere. You left your only home behind and you didn’t have any money. Fuck, you really had nothing. Panic began to creep up your throat.

“Okay,” the man said slowly. “Do you need help?”

Yes, yes, yes. You wanted to let him help you. But what would you say? Oh yeah, my family comes from a closed off coven and my father saved me from having my throat sliced open in a traditional sacrifice, then he was killed while we ran. I have no money, no clothes, and absolutely no where to go.

“I…”

“You look freezing. Let me help you out. I’ll get you something to eat and we’ll figure it out.”

Right to business he was. You glanced down at yourself, skin prickled in gooseflesh from the cold, your slip dirty and ripped in some places. Your feet ached in those too-big boots and your stomach growled in hunger. The berries and bark you had eaten for the past week left you starving for more.

Going against your better judgement, you gave in. He helped you up into the truck. You hugged your backpack to your chest, body ready to bolt if he tried anything. He gave you one last look before the car started moving. You started, gasping a little. The man flinched.

“What is it?” He asked. 

“Nothing,” you responded quickly. He grumbled something and the truck went faster.

It was an odd feeling, but one you became accustomed to quickly. You felt his eyes on you again, as if he was sizing you up, and it made you a bit uncomfortable. You shifted in your seat. He seemed to notice and promptly looked away.

Not too long later, he was pulling the truck onto a dirt road. Various crushed and mangled pieces of metal were scattered along the yard. It didn’t take you long to realize they seemed to be old cars, scraps of such that the man must use for something. Tools lay forgotten all around, random bits of chain flung here and there.

Water suddenly splashed over your face.

Jumping, you spun to face him with a bewildered look. He looked you up and down again before reaching into his pocket, revealing a knife. 

You reached for the door handle, trying to push open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. This was it. You were dead. 

“Calm down, girl,” he said. He reached forward to grab your arm and you whined. You didn’t want to resort to using your powers, but you would if you absolutely had to. “I’m just testing you.”

“What?” You asked. He pressed the tip of the knife into your forearm. It pinched for a moment and was gone almost instantly, a tiny droplet of blood forming where it had knicked you. “What the hell was that for?”

“Precaution,” was all he said as he clicked a button and opened his door. He walked around the truck before he opened your door and offered you a hand. You looked at it suspiciously. You needed to leave. You should leave. You were also incredibly confused. The man rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt ‘ya. Well, not anymore. That was more for my safety than anything.”

“How?” You asked. 

“I thought you were… nevermind. Just, get out of the car, will ‘ya?”

You narrowed your eyes and let your power inch into his head. It slithered inside and easily found his thoughts. You were a telepath, rare in the witch world, and you weren’t very practiced with it, but it came in handy for situations like this, you supposed. Your mother hated that you were a telepath. Danny was a telepath, and anything that reminded her of him was strictly forbidden. And ever since he died, you were forbidden to use your telepathy, and that led to you being incredibly out of practice.

...Didn’t mean to hurt her… she could have been a shifter… I could have sworn she was something…. She looks scared… probably just a runaway… she doesn’t look very old… why is she staring at me like that...

You pulled your power back and took his hand. The thoughts were quiet and breaking up, but you could make out most of what he was thinking. A shifter? As in shapeshifter? As a witch, you knew about some of the other supernatural creatures. But how would a human know about them?

Leading you into the house, the man kept sparing you odd glances, and you hugged your backpack even tighter to your chest. The inside of the house was dark and dingy, cluttered with old books and boxes. The man gestured to a small round sitting table in the kitchen. You sat down slowly, watching as he pulled out bread and some meat from the refrigerator. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. He set the plate down in front of you as well as a glass of water. You tentatively reached forward for the sandwich, made up of some meat and cheese and lettuce, the bread spongier than the homemade kind your mother made at home. You picked it up, sniffing it. “It’s just a sandwich. It won’t kill you.”

Thinking back to the knife in the truck, and the scabbed droplet of blood on your arm, you scowled, but took a bite anyway.

The man pushed over his own sandwich not a minute later, seeing how hungry you were.

“Y/n,” you said after finishing the first sandwich, picking up the second one. You wiped the crumbs with the back of your hand and drank the glass of water deeply, gulping down every last drop. The man pushed his water over as well. You drank that, too.

“Okay, Y/n,” he said. He watched you carefully. “Why were you out on the road like that, dressed in a nightgown when it’s forty degrees out, at almost ten at night?”

You paused and chewed your bite of sandwich slowly. You wouldn’t tell him everything. But he seemed to be kind. And he reminded you so much of your father…

“I ran away.”

The man sighed and nodded. “I figured. You an adult?”

“I just celebrated my twenty-first year.”

He blinked at you, mouth opening to say something, closing it only a moment after. He furrowed his brows. “Odd way of saying it, but okay.” He scratched his chin. “Why did you run away?”

You blanched. You weren’t expecting that question, although you should have. You swallowed the food in your mouth. “Um…”

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me,” he said gruffly, making you frown. 

“Um… well… It’s hard to explain,” you said truthfully. How were you supposed to explain your situation to him?

The man leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temple. “I guess if you don’t want to tell me right away, you don’t have to.” He looked you over, noting the still bruised wrists from the shackles and the cuts and various other small wounds from your coven and from spending a week in the woods. He swallowed hard at the sight of them. He reached a hand out for yours, and you obliged. He gently touched the wounds on your wrist, getting up to reach for a box in a cabinet over the sink. 

Restraints?... I wonder… 

That was all you could get from his head. You wished you were more practiced in your telepathy. Life would be much easier for you.

As he cleaned, applied salve, and dressed your wrists, his face was pulled into a pondering pout the whole time. His silent conversation with himself prompted a quick shake of his head to clear his mind before he was patting your forearm.

“Look, I know you don’t know me. I don’t know you. I don’t know what you have gone through and you don’t have to tell me. But I won’t hurt you, and I sure as hell won’t let anyone hurt you any more. I don’t know what caused these wounds but… I have an imagination. Just… you can stay as long as you want to, or need to. I have a spare room upstairs. I won’t bother you or nothing, but it’ll give you time to heal and get your shit together.” He thought for a moment before adding, “That is- if you want to.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Without thinking, you had wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, hugging him tightly. He grunted and hesitated before patting your back stiffly.

“Okay,” was all he said. You pulled back and grinned shyly. 

“Thank you, sir,” you said. 

“Call me Bobby.”

DEAN

“Piece of cake.”

Sam scoffed and limped after Dean, who was cradling his arm against his chest. They took out the vengeful spirit, but not without it getting the upper hand on them at one point. Nonetheless, Dean turned to his brother and grinned.

“Aw, come on, Sammy. That was fun!” Dean opened the trunk of his precious car and threw in his salt-filled shotgun. Sam shook his head and opened the passenger side door.

“Your definition of fun is startling,” was all he said as he ducked into the car, closing the door behind him. Dean laughed and slipped behind the steering wheel.

“Please. Your definition of fun is watching Harry Potter.”

Sam scoffed and turned to Dean. “Yours is watching cartoon porn.”

“It’s anime!” Dean snapped. Sam cackled in his seat and rubbed his sore knee.

“Okay, Dean. Whatever you say.”

***

By the time they got to Bobby’s, it was well past midnight, but a light was on in the windows. The air had cooled even more, the light wind nipping at their noses as they hurried to the door. 

“Fucking locked-” Dean banged on it. “Bobby! Open up!”

“Dean, he could be sleeping,” Sam said. 

“The light is on,” Dean pointed out. He raised his fist to bang on the door again but it swung open. Bobby knocked Dean’s hand out of the way.

“Would you quit it?” Bobby said. He moved out of the way to let the shivering brothers inside. “You’ll wake up-” Bobby snapped his mouth shut. 

Dean smirked and let out a wheezing laugh. “Bobby, you sly dog!” He clapped his father figure on the shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Sam said simply. Dean was still making sexual jabs. Bobby rolled his eyes.

“I’m not seeing anyone, you idjits,” he said. “I took in a runaway. I don’t know the story so don’t ask, but she was hurt. I honestly thought she was… something at first.”

“Why?” Sam asked. He cocked his head. “Did she do anything weird?”

Bobby shrugged. “Call it a hunch. She’s clean, though.”

“So what, you’re just letting her stay here?” Dean made his way to the fridge to grab a beer. “Why would you-”

A scream tore through the upstairs of the house. A bloodcurdling scream that made the hair on Dean’s neck stand up.

Bobby spun and sprinted up the stairs in the blink of an eye, the brothers close on his heels, however when they reached the door to one of the spare bedrooms, Bobby slammed it in their face.

“What the hell?”

The screams broke off suddenly, and Dean could vaguely hear Bobby speaking softly through the door. A woman's voice sounded back, one that was melodic but had a rougher edge to it. 

A few minutes passed before Bobby slipped out of the room and pulled the door closed. “Nightmare.”

The brothers stared at him incredulously.

“What?” Bobby raised his shoulders. 

“What the hell, Bobby?” Dean asked. “Why’re you getting involved with something like this? I mean, do you even know her?”

“We help people, it’s what we do. I don’t know her but so what? Call it… a hunch,” Bobby said again. He shrugged for a third time and shouldered past the boys to head towards the stairs. “You two need to leave.”

“Excuse me?” Dean followed him, raising a brow. 

“She barely trusts me. She’s skittish, is all. I don’t want three men freaking her out, especially two of them as big as you guys.” Bobby opened the door to the house and jerked his head. “You can come back when she settles.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean deadpanned. He couldn’t believe it! All of this over some girl? Some runaway girl who Bobby had just met? “There has got to be more to the story.”

“There isn’t. Now beat it,” Bobby said. 

Y/N

Bobby was kind.

The first three days were a struggle. You weren’t sure what to do or what to tell him. He seemed harmless, but you easily spotted the guns and the knives and the sigils around the house. You knew what they were and what they meant. The Devil’s trap was something you had learned to create at a young age.

“Are you a hunter?” Bobby had asked. 

“A… what?” You figured he didn’t mean a hunter in the sense of killing animals. 

“A hunter. You know about demons and the sigils,” Bobby trailed off when he realized you didn’t know what hunters were. “What are you then?”

“Well, I had to learn about them growing up. Where I’m from, we were taught about demons in school and their protective sigils.” You had chuckled a bit. “My mother told me many people believed we are devil worshipers but we aren’t!”

Bobby simply stared at you. 

“You’re a satanist?” He asked. That had you laughing again.

“Like I said, we don’t worship the devil.”

“Who is ‘we?’” 

You hesitated, but you figured you could trust him. He had been kind and understanding with you. He knew you must have grown up pretty sheltered. You hadn’t known how to use the telephone and you didn’t know how to drive a car. You had never used a television.

Yes, you could trust him. 

“My coven!”

Bobby moved so fast the table shook as his knees hit it, your glass of water toppling over. “Bobby, what?-”

“Your what?”

You cocked your head at his reaction. “My… my coven?”

“You’re a witch?” He was mad. Really mad. So mad, his face turned red and he fisted his hands at his sides.

“Well… yes,” you said slowly. 

“We hunt you,” Bobby growled. That had you standing up slowly, hands raised in innocence.

“I don’t understand,” you said. You swallowed thickly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Ever?” He snapped. 

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?” 

You froze. Hurt anyone? “Of course not! What are you talking about?”

“Witches kill and maim and bring harm to people,” Bobby hissed. “I knew you were something.”

“I’ve never done any of that! How dare you think I have?” You said. “Up until a week and a half ago, I had never left my compound. I was going to be sacrificed for fucks sake! My coven is traditionalistic. We live a simple life. We have no communication with the outside world. You were the first person I had ever met outside my coven!”

He stared at you dumbly, blinking a few times to process your words. “Are you… are you serious?”

“Yes,” you breathed. You kept your hands up but you shrugged lamely. “If it wasn’t for my father, I’d be dead.”

“Where’s your father?” He asked. Your heart sunk at the thought and suddenly your knees felt weak.

“He died,” you spoke softly. “He freed me and they… they killed him in the process.”

Bobby’s fists unclenched. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “He died trying to save me and I won’t let him die in vain. I’ll leave if you want me to but… I haven’t done anything for you to kill me. You have my word.”

He looked at you for a while, really looked at you. His eyes softened as a tear slipped down your cheek. You desperately wanted to enter his mind but you knew you shouldn’t, especially not now. Finally, he relaxed his position. 

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to leave,” he said. “But if you start… I don’t know, killing things or doing any of that evil devil shit, I’ll kill ‘ya.”

You scoffed. “What would evil devil shit entail?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, you idjit.”

In the next few weeks, Bobby had taken you under his wing. He began to teach you how to shoot, which you weren’t terrible at. He gave you books to read on lore (much of which you already knew) and even brought you out on outings with him. He was a bit of a hermit, but the few times he did go out, he’d take you with him.

Needless to say, it was… overwhelming.

There were so many people. So much technology. But it was exhilarating. You had never been shopping before, never been to a restaurant. The diner Bobby brought you to was one he said wasn’t very good, but it was fun. The waitress had looked at you like you had grown a third head as your eyes took in all of your surroundings, gazing incredulously at the picture covered walls and the jukebox- that’s what Bobby called it- against the wall. 

Then there was the music. You grew up with your mother’s fiddle and that was nothing compared to what you listened to now. You had chosen so many songs from the jukebox, Bobby had to pull you away from it before you drove everyone insane. 

It was amazing and you wished you could experience it all with your father. You wished he could see the new sights and hear the wonderful music. The food was a bit more artificial tasting but there was a whole new world of foods to explore. You especially liked the cheeseburgers Bobby introduced you to.

Three weeks into your stay, Bobby had taken you on a hunt with him. He told you there would be people out there who would want to kill you and wouldn’t listen like he had. You had to keep your witchcraft and religion a secret, or else hunters like him would come for you.

That didn’t help the nightmares that plagued you at night.

Your father’s death haunted you. The screams and pleads of the other oldest children haunted you. Danny’s blue lips and waterlogged skin haunted you. 

You couldn’t escape it. 

“Here’s some money,” Bobby said. “Go to the bar next door. Get yourself a drink, dance a little. I’ll meet you back in the room when I’m done, okay?”

He brought you along but didn’t want you hunting quite yet.

You did as he said. You drank some new drinks, danced with a man you had met, conversed with the pretty red headed bartender. You let loose and had fun, something you never would have done with the coven.

When you stumbled back into the motel room that night, Bobby had grinned at you, watching as you fell back onto your bed.

“Fun night?” He asked, helping your boots off when you struggled with the laces.

“Screw my coven,” you slurred. You smiled toothily up at him. “That was fun!” You reached into your pocket, holding out the remainder of the money he had given you.

“Keep it,” he said. You smiled and shucked off your jacket.

You were asleep by the time your head hit the pillow.

DEAN

“You think the girl is still there?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Doubt it. It’s been almost two months.”

Sam stretched his legs as he and Dean walked up the steps to Bobby’s house. Dean knocked twice, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Autumn had faded into winter, the leaves long fallen and the flurries of snow drifting around their feet as they walked. The sun was hidden behind a blanket of clouds, making it even colder than it was.

The door opened, but instead of Bobby, a woman peered up at them. Dean’s breath hitched in his throat.

She was beautiful. Her eyes were e/c and held a sort of wisdom in them that startled him, but a glint of innocence were beheld in them, too. Her face was framed by long stray locks of h/c hair, half of it braided, the rest loose. She was tall for a woman, but the brothers still towered over her, and her simple t-shirt and jeans showed off her curves nicely. Dean looked her up and down, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Hey there,” he drawled. He touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip before giving her a nod. “What’s your name?”

The woman looked between them both, seemingly unfazed by Dean’s advances. “Bobby! There are two guys out here!”

“Let them in,” Dean heard Bobby call. “It’s the Winchester boys I was telling you about.”

“Oh,” was all she said as she stepped out of the way. She held the screen door open for them as they ducked inside. Dean sent her a wink as he passed.

“Sam, Dean,” Bobby greeted. He gestured to the woman who had now gravitated to the corner of the room. She simply watched them, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Dean noticed faint scars around her wrists. When she caught Dean’s eyes, she held them behind her back. “This is Y/n.”

“Hi,” Sam said, giving her a friendly smile.

“Hey.” Dean grinned lazily at her.

“Hello.”

Her voice was soft and Dean’s heart leaped in his chest at the sound. 

“Is this the same girl from a few months ago?” Sam asked. Bobby nodded.

“Yep, that’s her,” he said. “I’ve been showing her the ropes.”

“What- like hunting?” Dean furrowed his brows. “Bobby, since when have we brought civilians into this shit?”

“I’m not a civilian,” Y/n spoke up. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” Dean said. 

“I’m a witch.”

“Dammit to hell, Y/n!” Bobby threw his arms out to his sides.

“A witch?” Dean snarled. He pulled his gun without a second thought, but before he could shoot, Y/n’s eyes shined purple and the gun was flung from his hand. “Bitch!”

“Watch your mouth, boy!” Bobby hissed. “She’s a witch, but she has lived her whole life in a secluded coven. She’s never hurt anyone.”

“She will!” It was Sam’s turn to pipe up. “Bobby, how can you trust a witch?”

“If you knew her, you’d understand,” Bobby answered. He gestured to her. “She won’t hurt anyone, and you won’t hurt her. Because if you do, I’ll hurt you. Do you understand?”

“Bobby-”

“I said, do you understand?” Bobby repeated himself. The brothers looked at him, noticing how his lips were screwed into a silent growl, his body moving into a defensive position half in front of the woman. Sam swallowed hard.

“Fine.”

“Sam!” Dean protested.

“If Bobby trusts her… then I do, too,” Sam muttered. Dean scoffed.

“She’s a witch!”

“And you’re a dick!” Y/n snapped. 

Dean’s eyes widened. He lifted a finger to point at her. “You shut it.” 

“Make me,” Y/n mocked. She folded her arms over her chest.

Dean took a step forward. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Enough!” Bobby roared. He turned to the woman. “What did I say about Dean?”

She sighed deeply. “Not to rile him up.”

“And what are you doing?”

“... Riling him up.”

“Exactly,” Bobby said. “Stop it.”

“Sorry.”

Bobby turned to Dean next. “You quit taunting her, would you? She’s turning into a decent hunter, and an even better consultant, and she’s a kind woman. If you would get your head out of your ass, you two actually have a lot in common.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. Which was a bit of a lie, but not really. She was attractive, and he liked her spirit, but she was a witch. How was he ever going to trust the likes of her?

“A consultant?” Sam asked.

“She grew up learning about monsters,” Bobby clarified. “Not only that, but she has the knowledge for spells and herbal magic. She’s given me a lot of great information on healing spells and on some research type stuff.”

“Oh great, she could be poisoning you, Bobby,” Dean said. 

“I could poison you.” Y/n narrowed her eyes at the green eyed hunter.

“Bobby, she literally just threatened me,” Dean pointed out. Bobby just shook his head and rubbed his temple.

“Y/n?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Bobby gestured to the brothers. “If you two ever need any help, she’s your girl. Dean, you may not like her, but she’s smart and her herb mixes really do work.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said gently. He grinned at Y/n. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too, Sam,” she said, enunciating his name more prominently. Dean scowled. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Where are you going?” Bobby asked as Y/n made her way to the stairs.

“On a date!”

Bobby started and gaped at her. “A date?”

“Yeah! Remember Ben?”

Bobby thought for a moment. “The EMT from the wraith hunt?”

“Uh-huh! We went out that night afterwards and he called me yesterday for a second date.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Bobby asked. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “I am an adult, Bobby. Besides, the only relationship I had ever been in was an arranged one. I’d like to have my own.”

Dean sputtered. “I’m sorry- arranged?”

“Her coven was a little… old school,” Bobby said.

“To say the least,” Y/n chimed in. “Anyway, I have to get ready. Bye, boys!”

She disappeared up the stairs, the soft click of her door closing echoing down from the hallway. Bobby still looked like he was going to explode.

“How did I not know about this?”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t ask us, Bobby,” he said. “But I like her.”

“She’s great,” Bobby agreed. “Dean, if you don’t lighten up, I swear to God.”

Dean rolled his eyes, putting his whole body into it. “Okay, fine, whatever. I won’t kill her.”

“How generous of you, Dean,” Sam said, patting his brother on the shoulder. Dean pushed him away, giving him a dirty look.

“Shut up.”

Y/N

Ben was sweet, and handsome, and decent in bed, but he didn’t send that spark to your core like Dean did.

By your fifth date, you decided to break it off. It had been a month since you last saw the Winchester brothers, and three months since you had met them. You occupied your time with research and exploring the outside world. Ben had been fun, and he was so nice, but by God, Dean lit a fire in you that burned so brightly, all you could think about was him.

So after Ben, there was Derek. He was a bit more rugged than the soft spoken EMT, and if Ben had been fun, Derek was a fucking rollercoaster. He wasn’t more than a month long fling as he rolled through town, but fuck was it great. You liked this new freedom. You liked experimenting and having the choice. Sure, you and Jasper had a good time, and it was the escape you needed, but you two were arranged by your parents and the elders. Ben and Derek were your choices. 

You loved having the fucking choice.

And if given the chance, you’d like to choose Dean.

He was an arrogant dick, but you remembered that smirk and the dark look in his eye and that filled you with an excitement you wanted to chase. You knew you shouldn’t chase. That you couldn’t chase.

Because no matter how civil he acted with you, you also knew he wanted to kill you. 

But you also thought he wanted to fuck you. He was incredibly confusing.

Your phone calls were always short, and they either ended up with insults thrown at each other, or flirtatious innuendos from the hunter that always left you questioning whether or not he actually hated you. You provided them with copious amounts of information for their hunts, and Sam always took you up on your offer for spells and herbal concoctions. You thought Dean may have been coming around, but you wouldn’t know until tonight when they came to visit Bobby. 

It was clear Dean didn’t trust you, and his cocky attitude made it so much worse. But he was a damn good hunter and a great brother to Sam, and he was Bobby’s family. So you’d try to be civil.

You’d try.

***

“Goodnight. Try not to kill each other, please.”

You waved Bobby off. Sam had long gone to bed, and with Bobby leaving, you and Dean were left alone. 

And fuck was that awkward.

You looked anywhere but him. You didn’t want to just get up and leave. But you also didn’t want to sit here in silence. Dean seemed to have the same idea.

“So how’s it been-”

“How do you like-”

You spoke at the same time and heat rose in your cheeks. “Go ahead.”

He cleared his throat. “How do you like it outside the coven?”

Right, Bobby had told you he told the brothers a bit about your past. Not everything, but enough to help them understand you weren’t evil like Dean thought you were.

“It’s different. A good different,” you said. “It’s… amazing, really. There are so many things I never knew existed.”

“Like what?” Dean asked. True curiosity shined in his eyes and it made you smile.

“Like music. The music is amazing. I have more freedom. There is so much to explore. Television is pretty neat. There are a lot of books, too.”

“You sound like Sam in that sense,” Dean mused. You shrugged.

“It’s just better, you know?” You thought back to your father and Danny, how you wished for the thousandth time they could see this. You wondered about Margot and Matthias, how they would like it. “I wish my family could see it.”

“I heard about your dad. I’m sorry,” he said honestly. His eyes were earnest and full of something you couldn’t understand. You desperately wanted to read his mind, itched to. But he already didn’t trust you.

“Thanks,” was all you said. You fiddled with your hands in your lap. “We were supposed to do this together, you know? He was supposed to be with me.” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. “But then I met Bobby and… he reminds me so much of my dad. It was like the goddess gave him back to me.”

Dean’s breath hitched. “I lost my dad, too.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up at him. “Bobby was always like a father to me. More than my own was. He’s good like that.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He is.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, but the awkwardness had faded. 

“So. You were going to be sacrificed, huh?”

You burst out laughing. 

Dean stared at you in bewilderment as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. You covered your mouth with your hands, not wanting to wake up Sam and Bobby, but you couldn’t help the laughs that came from deep in your chest. 

“How is that funny?” He asked. He must have thought you were going crazy.

“We… we just had this… heartfelt conversation… and that’s what… what you follow up with?” You said between fits of laughter. You wiped a tear from your eye. “I’m sorry. That was so fucking funny.”

Dean’s lip quirked. “You’re very odd.”

That made you laugh again, and this time, he joined.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad afterall.

DEAN

“You like her.”

Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of Sam’s voice. He had just gotten off the phone with Y/n and he hadn’t realized he’d been smiling until Sam raised a brow with a knowing look.

“Winchester.”

“Hi, Y/n,” Dean had said. He smirked at her greeting. “How’re you doing?”

“Do you need something?” She asked. Dean’s grin widened.

“You.”

Y/n scoffed and Dean heard some shuffling. “Course you do. Without me, you’d crash and burn.”

“Real funny,” Dean said. “Do you have information on basilisks?”

“Of course I do,” Y/n said and Dean could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Is that what you’re hunting?

“We think so,” Dean replied. He waited for her to speak but the other end was silent for a few moments. “Sweetheart?”

“Oh- sorry. I forgot,” she said. Her voice sounded distant, like she had left the phone across the room. He raised a brow.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Dean chuckled and leaned back in his seat amused. “Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re sacrificing kittens or something fucked up like that.”

“Damn. You caught me.” A pause. “I’m actually trying to cook for Bobby.”

Dean’s smile faded from one of amusement to one of wonder. “Really?”

“Yeah and this cookbook is so confusing.” He heard a smack-presumably her palm hitting the book in frustration- and a groan. “I just want to do something nice for him.”

Dean’s heart warmed at her words and he closed his eyes. It was hard to hate her. Or in his case, act like it. Sometimes. To be honest, he found it difficult to see her as anything other than good, even if she was a witch. But she still was one, and he knew someday she would turn.

Why did she have to make it so difficult to hate her?

“It’s the thought that counts,” he said softly. 

“Well. I’m still trying,” she said. “My mother stopped teaching me to cook once Danny died and the marriage to Jasper was called off. Why know how to cook when I’m supposed to be dead?”

Dean flinched at her words. “What, they don’t teach you how to magically create dinner at Hogwarts?”

She didn’t say anything for a while and Dean thought he had gone too far before she said, “Only how to sacrifice kittens.”

He laughed so hard, it made Sam jump. 

Then he heard that bell-like laugh of hers through the phone and he found himself unable to stop smiling. 

“Dude, stop flirting and get the information,” Sam said. He narrowed his eyes at his older brother. “We’re wasting time.”

Dean sighed deeply. “Alright, Mr. Stick-in-the-ass needs the basilisk information or else he might spontaneously combust. Sorry to interrupt your cooking, sweetheart, but whaddya got?”

They had met her four months ago. She had been with Bobby for six. Somehow, she had weasled her way into their lives, and at first, Dean hated it. But ever since that conversation with her, watching as the haunting memories of her past swam behind her eyes, how she laughed at something so morbid, how she tried so hard to be good, something had changed.

Dean wasn’t sure what to think anymore. The thought of her warmed his chest. He no longer twitched with annoyance when she spoke or frowned at the mention of her name. He eagerly picked up the phone to hear her voice, wanted to talk to her, to hear her theories.

She was weird but he liked it.

Dean knew she had a rough past. He also knew that she told Bobby some of it, but not all. She was private when it came to her life in the coven. But he knew some of what she had gone through. He knew she was arranged to be married, she knew her older brother had died and that she took his place for the ritualistic sacrifice, he knew her father died saving her. He knew she had to learn all about the world when she escaped.

And she was so smart. She had picked up on the world quickly and it surprised Dean. He knew if he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t do that well. Hell, when he came back to the life of the living after only four earth months, it took him ages to learn about all that had happened.

“I do not,” Dean said. He brushed off Sam’s comment. Liked her? Please…

Did he? He was incredibly attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be? And sure, he liked to talk to her, liked to watch her face light up when he turned on the radio, or when Bobby brought home mac and cheese. He liked to watch her dance in the kitchen and could watch her read for hours without getting bored.

Did he like her?

He shrugged off the feeling, not wanting to get involved. She couldn’t possibly feel the same way. And even if she did, she deserved better. Her gentle heart was no match for his own hell-blackened soul.

“Right,” Sam rolled his eyes. He stood from his seat and picked up his jacket from the table. “I’m going to get some food.”

“Bring me some pie,” Dean muttered. As much as he tried to get her off his mind, he couldn’t. Sam rolled his eyes again and left Dean to his thoughts.

***

At one hour, Dean called Sam, but it went straight to voicemail.

Ten minutes later, he called again. Still voicemail.

At an hour and a half, Dean was dressed and ready to go on a man hunt when his phone rang.

Sam.

He answered it with a low growl. “Dammit, Sam. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hello, Dean Winchester.”

Not Sam.

Dean’s face went slack and his body stiffened at the cool voice that spoke from the other end of the phone. He swallowed down his anger. This wasn’t the basilisk, it couldn’t fucking talk. And it didn’t sound like anyone he knew.

Fuck.

“Who the hell is this?”

The man on the other end of the phone chuckled darkly. “I’m Zacharias.”

“I have no clue who the fuck you are but if you have done anything to my brother, I swear-”

“Yet. I haven’t touched him yet,” Zacharias said smoothly. “Although, a Winchester? I can imagine a hundred different things I’d like to do to him.”

“You sick son of a bitch.”

“I won’t touch him, though,” Zacharias told Dean. “I will, if you don’t get me what I want.”

“Why don’t I just find you and rip out your lungs?” Dean spit. His body shook with anger. “And how do I know you’re not lying?”

“Should I put old Sammy boy on the phone?” Shuffling. Grunting. Then finally-

“Dean?”

Dean sighed with relief. “Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam groaned a bit. “Define okay.”

“I’ll kill them all,” Dean snarled. 

“Don’t listen to them Dean. Don’t give her to them. These people, they’re-”

“That’s enough.”

The phone was pulled away as Zacharias interrupted Sam. The man cleared his throat.

“I’m sure you don’t know who I am. We keep to ourselves, but I know who you are, and I know you have access to something I want.”

“Which is?”

“Deliver it to me, alive, and you get Sam back in one piece, not a hair on his pretty little head touched, and we will leave you be forever. We will go back into solitude. You won’t ever have to deal with us again.”

“Who is ‘us?’” Dean was growing agitated. Why was this fucker so vague? “Just get to the fucking point!”

Zacharias laughed. “So impatient, hunter.” 

“Listen, Zach- can I call you Zach?”

“No.”

“Okay, Zach. If you don’t get to the fucking point, I will-”

“What? You’ll do what?” Zach sneered. “The way I see it, I have the one thing in the world you care about most. You have something I need, and I have something you need. Besides, I thought you liked causing harm.”

Dean’s blood ran cold.

“Feel free to rough her up a bit. I won’t mind. Lord knows she won’t get it once she gets home.”

She. Home. 

Who was he talking about?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” Zach’s voice lowered an octave. “I’ve heard the whispers, Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about the part you played in hell, how you were acting a little too well. Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me.”

“What do you want?”

Zach’s breath hitched a bit. “I want the girl.”

Y/N

“Thank you for dinner, Y/n,” Bobby said. He patted your cheek and kissed your temple as he went to rinse his dish in the sink.

“I know it wasn’t great but-”

“I don’t get very many home cooked meals. This was fantastic,” Bobby said. Your chest swelled with pride at his words and you grinned.

“I’m glad. I just wanted to do something to say thank you. It’s not much but… I don’t know. You’ve been very kind to me,” you told him. He gave you an odd look.

“This sounds like a goodbye,” he said apprehensively. Your eyes widened.

“Oh, God no! No, this isn’t a goodbye!”

Bobby’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I’ve gotten used to another person being here. I’ve gotten used to you being here. I know I said take all the time you need, but I selfishly hope for more time.”

“Bobby, I like it here. I like it here with you. You remind me a lot of my father,” you said. You swallowed hard. “You’ve done a lot for me. You’re a good friend.”

Bobby blushed and went bashful. He shrugged and murmured some words you couldn’t hear before shuffling into the study, throwing a “thank you” over his shoulder. You didn’t take any offense. You knew he wasn’t very good at deep conversations.

You cleaned the kitchen and were about to head to bed when the phone Bobby had given you rang. You smiled smally when you saw Dean’s name flash on the screen. 

“Two phone calls in one day? I must be special,” you said snarkily as you answered the phone.

“I need your help,” he said. 

“What, no ‘hi, sweetheart’ this time?” You mused. 

“I’m serious, Y/n,” he said. You frowned at his tone. He was usually playful with you. If he was grumpy, he was usually doing it to mess with you. 

“Is everything okay?”

“No. I’ll send you the location. Get here as fast as you can.”

Your knees wobbled a bit as nerves lit a fire in your belly. “Wait, Dean, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Just get here. I’ll explain everything when you do,” he said. “Please?”

You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. You were tired after researching all night, but you couldn’t just say no. If Dean was asking for your physical help, he must really need it.

“Okay. Fine. Send me the address.”

***

You knew something was wrong when you pulled the car Bobby loaned you into a small patch of trees down a dirt path off the highway.

Bobby had taught you how to drive not long after you started staying with him. You didn’t drive much, but it was cool when you did. The drive to the location only took a few hours, and within that time, you tried to think of the different reasons he would have called you. Surely he wouldn’t be asking for your help unless he really needed it. Sure, he was a lot more civil with you, even nice sometimes, but he still wasn’t a huge fan of yours. He hated witches and that hatred didn’t stop with you.

The thought made your heart fall in your chest, but you pushed the feeling away. You couldn’t feel those sort of things for him. It was a dangerous game to play.

He was leaning against the Impala when you parked the car. Slipping out of the driver’s seat, you approached him warily.

The first thing you noticed was Sam’s absence.

“Where’s Sam?”

Sam was always with him. You and Dean never met up alone. The few times you had met up with the brothers when they weren’t hunting, whether it be for some healing spell lessons, research sessions, or just lunch, it was always Sam and Dean. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

You looked Dean up and down, noticing the way his fists were clenched and tucked tightly into his sides. His eyes were wide and nervous, as if you were some cruel seductress here to kidnap him, but his mouth was screwed into a hard line. You watched him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“He’s going to uh… meet us there,” Dean stammered. He gestured to his car. “Get in?”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demanded. “You’re acting weird.”

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep, settling breath. Energy crackled between the two of you as anger rolled from him in waves. You could sense his worry. His anger. You prodded your power at his mind, running a smooth finger down the inseam as you stepped into his thoughts.

She just needs to get in the car… fucking hell… I need to get Sam… quit acting so weird, Dean, you’ll put her off… get in the car!

That was all you could muster before a sharp pain stung your temples. Damn you needed practice. His thoughts made you more uneasy and you took a step back towards your car.

“Dean, tell me what’s going on!”

“Get in the car, Y/n,” he said darkly. You made a move to run but he lunged, gripping your wrist. You yanked free of his grip and pushed him away. “Just get in the car!”

You turned to face him, but your eyes met the barrel of a gun.

You couldn’t breathe. This was it. He was going to kill you. You had no doubts that he had witch killing bullets in that gun, and you just fucking knew he wouldn’t hesitate. 

“This was your plan all along?” You whispered. You tried to keep the emotion off your face, but couldn’t keep it from your voice. “To get me to trust you, then you’d kill me? Really?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” He jerked his head towards the Impala. “I won’t say it again.”

You made a run for it.

You turned and made for the trees. This was the second time you would flee into the woods in your life and you really hoped there wouldn't be a third.

You heard Dean curse behind you and you sprinted. With his long legs, you didn’t get very far, and his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you up in the air. You swung your head back to collide with his face. He yelped as you felt his nose crunch beneath the back of your skull. 

That only made him angrier. 

He threw you to the ground roughly, pinning you down with one knee to the center of your back. You thrashed and raised your hand, a purple glow emanating from it, ready to strike.

He quickly latched a handcuff to your wrist and your power fizzled.

“What?”

“They’re warded,” he said simply. He cuffed your other hand and gripped a fistful of your hair. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just got into the car.”

Your body ached and your scalp screamed but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. “Would you have gotten into the car if you were in my shoes?”

“I’d never be in your shoes,” he snarled, hauling you to your feet. “I’m not a filthy fucking witch.”

Ouch.

“You’re still not over that? Really, Dean?” He dragged you to the car, all the while you kicked and thrashed, but he was much stronger than you and the wards were weakening you significantly. “I’m not evil! I thought we were friends!”

His hand gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to look at him. His fingers were rough and heavy against your skin as he dug into you, making you wince. Up close like this, you could see the beautiful green of his eyes, even in the dark, and his freckles stood out against his cheeks. You wished this was happening in a different circumstance. You wished you could have been close like this in another way.

His mouth curled into a ferocious snarl as he said, “I’m not friends with monsters.”

He shoved a gag into your mouth, opened the trunk of his car, and shoved you inside before closing you in, concealing you in a darkness that swallowed you whole and muffled your sobs.

DEAN

The compound was deep in the forest. 

Dean stood by the driver's side door, waiting. Three cloaked figures walked towards him, Sam hauled behind them, dragged by a crimson energy around his wrists and ankles. His face was a bit bruised and his clothes were dirty, but he was unscathed.

That didn’t relieve the guilt he felt.

“The girl.”

Dean recognized the voice as Zach’s. He gave a long look to Sam before he walked around to the trunk. 

He betrayed her. He betrayed her in the worst way possible and now she was going to die because of it. She told him she trusted him. She had learned to trust him after he wanted to kill her.

And now?

Now, he had taken that trust and destroyed it. Bobby would kill him surely. His father figure had started looking at her like a surrogate daughter. Y/n had come into his life and brightened it in the best way possible. Bobby had been so excited when he talked about how well she was doing. How the nightmares had begun to fade. How her scars were barely noticeable. How she didn’t flinch as much. 

How she trusted Bobby so wholeheartedly, and how she trusted Sam and Dean.

That was ruined now, and Dean had to face it. He had to face it like he had to face what happened in hell. But he wouldn’t do that. No. He was saving Sam again. 

He would always save Sam.

He opened the truck and nearly broke at the sight of her tear stained cheeks. Regardless of the tears, however, she gave him a look that was pure death. It sent shivers to his core as her eyes lit purple. A warning. 

A promise.

He yanked her from the trunk and half carried her to Zach.

The new High Priest of Y/n’s coven.

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Y/n. I know you know where she is.”

“Why do you want her?” Dean’s stomach curled.

“We have some… unfinished business.”

It didn’t take Dean long to realize it was her old coven, the one she had run from. The ritual wasn’t complete, and it wouldn’t be complete until Y/n was dead. So there was to be an exchange. Y/n for Sam.

“Let Sam go.”

Zach, a tall and plump man with gray hair and a bulbous nose, nodded at the two cloaked figures at his sides. They yanked Sam to Dean. Y/n writhed in Dean’s grip, desperate to escape, desperate not to return to the coven.

“The girl,” Zach said again. Dean looked down at Y/n, whose eyes were so wide with fear, he was afraid they’d pop right from her head. She looked at him then, pleading, begging for him to take her.

Instead, he took the gag off, pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, and pushed her away.

Y/n was so surprised, she barely flinched when the cloaked figures gripped the tops of her arms.

“Dean!” She said his name with yearning as the two figures dragged her away, still chained, still terrified. “Dean, please don’t do this! You know what they’ll do! You know! Please! Sam, Dean, please!”

With an evil grin, Zach sent the brothers a wink. “Thank you, boys. We’ll take good care of her.”

Then in a blast of crimson, the four witches were gone.

Y/N

“You traitorous bitch!”

Your mother hit you again, the whip stinging across your back with the scorching pain of the sun. You keened, tears long fallen, your eyes dry and crusty from how much you’ve cried.

Dean had betrayed you. This was worse than him killing you. Worse because not only were you going to die, but your freedom had been ripped from you, stolen out from underneath you. Worse because your father’s death would mean nothing. Worse because you still loved Dean.

Shit, you loved him. You hated that you did. You hated him while you loved him.

You realized you were in love with him when you were locked in that trunk. You wondered why it hurt so much. Why although he had put you there, you wanted him to comfort you. It was fucked up and twisted, but you were in love with him.

And he had royally, utterly betrayed you.

“I’m sorry, mother,” you said for the thousandth time. The whip cracked against your back again, tearing another ribbon. It wasn’t the first time you had been whipped. It was a typical form of punishment within your coven. Your wrists were bound to the top of a pole, your shirt stolen off your body to display your previously marred back. It wasn’t bad, the scars having long faded to dull lines. But now? Now they were re-opened, new ribbons sliced into your back by your own mother’s hand.

There were some spectators still. Many had gathered around to watch the pariah be punished for committing treason. Usually, treason was instant death in the coven. But you were to die in three days under the summer solstice, the moon at its peak for the season. It wasn’t as powerful as the harvest moon, but the solstice was still great for harvesting energy, and the coven couldn’t wait until autumn to refuel their power.

So they resorted to public punishment, letting you be an example to the children of the founding families who would grow up to have kids of their own to be sacrificed. This was what would happen if you or your child tried to escape. If they did escape.

Thirty lashes later, you were slumped against the pole, your body in so much pain, you were on the brink of unconsciousness. Hands moved to untie you and you slumped to the ground once you were unbound. You cried out in agony as you hit the dirt, screaming when someone lifted you up into their arms.

“I’m sorry.”

Jasper.

You didn’t turn into his chest like you would have a year ago. But you did like the comfort his touch brought you. Your best friend.

That comfort disintegrated when he laid you on your stomach on a moth-eaten cot in one of the cells of the dungeons below the founder’s hall.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said again as he left you, someone else closing the cell door, locking you inside.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t think you could physically cry anymore.

Instead, you wallowed. You wallowed in the pain, your own self pity, your anger and sadness. 

You gave up.

You were done running. You were done fighting. Nothing was going to come of it. Nothing was going to change. The man you loved had shoved you back into the cruel clutches of your coven, and you were going to die in three days time, just as you should have died under the harvest moon with the others all those months ago.

DEAN

“Dean.”

Sam and Bobby watched as Dean paced in front of them. The older Winchester brother’s shoulders were hunched, brows pinched, mouth pulled into a sour frown as he paced and thought, thought and paced.

“Dean.”

He ignored his brother again. What was the point? What was the point in talking? He had done it. He had given her up. He had traded her life for his brother’s, just like he had done his whole life.

Sam was everything to him, and although she had weaseled herself into his life, into his heart, that wouldn’t change.

The guilt ate at him. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, an itching fury burning beneath his flesh that left him twitchy. This felt… wrong. This felt more wrong than he thought. What he did was awful. But it felt different. It felt…

No. He couldn’t feel those things. He wouldn’t. If he felt those things for her, there would be no going back, and he would just be hurt again. He would be hurt beyond comparison if he felt those things for her. If his heart raced at the sight of her, if he itched to reach out and touch her whenever she was close, if his mind thought of her when he woke up in the morning and right before he slept at night.

If he felt those things, he’d be a goner. If he felt those things, this situation would be so much worse.

“Dean, goddammit!”

He stopped, turning slowly, finally letting himself look at his brother and Bobby, the former who was the epitome of worry, the latter looking like he was mourning a daughter.

Which, Dean thought, he probably was.

Dean knew how much Bobby cared for Y/n. He could see it in the way his father figure would gently touch her cheek in passing, or press a kiss to her forehead whenever she went to bed. How he went out of his way to keep her comfortable, how he helped her heal. Bobby was never like that with the boys. Sure, he loved them and Dean knew he and Sam were like Bobby’s sons, but Bobby also grew to have a daughter figure in his life, and she had been ripped away from him by Dean’s doing. 

“You’re going to get her back,” Bobby said smoothly. His voice was still and unwavering. Emotionless. 

“Don’t you think I want to?” Dean asked. “I can’t leave her there. I can’t… It was part of the plan to go back and get her. But what if... what if she’s already dead?”

Bobby was suddenly in Dean’s face, gripping the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the wall. His face was contorted in a rage Dean had never seen pointed towards him and it made him gulp.

“Don’t say that.” Bobby tightened his grip on Dean’s shirt. “We’re getting her back.”

“Bobby, even if she is still alive, how would we get past an entire coven?” Sam spoke from behind them. He didn’t move to pry Bobby off of Dean. 

Even Sam knew Dean made a bad call.

“We’ll figure it out,” Bobby said. He finally let go of Dean and backed up a few paces. “It’s not the right time for the ritual. She’ll be alive until late tonight if I have the moon cycle right.”

“Wha- Bobby! We’re barely going to have time!” Dean said. Alive? God, he hoped so. 

“We need to go. Now.” Bobby was rushing around the study like a madman, collecting guns and knives and a flask of holy water. Dean knew the holy water would do nothing, but watching as Bobby also stuffed a bag full of salt filled rounds, he knew the man was just desperate to get her back, using anything and everything to do so.

“We’ve wasted too much time,” Bobby said. He stalked towards the door and turned back to look Dean in the eye. “You better hope she’s alive, boy.”

He slipped out the front door without another word, the brothers giving each other a long look before following after him, hoping they weren’t too late.

Y/N

As night fell, the moon peeking up from behind the trees, you prayed to your gods quietly. Your mother and siblings hadn’t come to see you since the punishment in the square the day before. You were left alone, back oozing blood throughout the night and into the morning. It still leaked, but much of the blood had begun to crust and clot. You didn’t want to know what your back looked like. It had finally healed enough from the last time you were punished six years ago that you could start looking at your back in the mirror. 

You supposed you didn’t have to worry about it now, seeing as you’d be dead by morning.

The cuffs from Dean had been swapped for similar cuffs as the ones your dad melted when you two made your escape the last time. They dug into your wrists painfully, chafing them raw and bloody. 

A loud bang sounded from somewhere above the cellar. Your mouth went dry. This was it. 

The door to the cellar opened, revealing Jasper. He looked at you solemnly and reached down to grip the tops of your arms. You cried out as your back was jarred, and he ignored it, dragging you up the stairs and into the main hall where someone else gripped your other arm. Together, they carried you outside into the warm night. The hot air hit your back painfully and it took all your strength not to cry in pain. Instead, you bit your lip so hard you tasted blood and tried to push the pain away, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing you hurt.

They carried you to the waiting cell, which was really just a shed, and pushed you inside. You landed on your side, agony ripping through you, and you groaned. They closed the door and locked you inside as everyone prepped for the ritual. 

As you laid there, having flipped onto your stomach, you tried to count the minutes in your head, counting the seconds. If you let yourself think of what was coming, you would surely go insane. This was the second time you were experiencing this and thinking about it made you queasy. Thinking about Dean left you conflicted. Thinking of Bobby and your father left you dejected.

So you just counted.

And counted.

And counted.

Until a thud echoed outside the shed. Shuffling. Another thud. A squelching sound.

“Keep an eye out.”

“No, I was just going to stand here with my thumb up my ass.”

“Real mature, Dean.”

“Thank you.

“Shut up.”

“Hurry up, Sam.”

“I’m trying! It’s spelled or something.”

“You know what? Move.”

Holy shit. Was that-

There was a loud bang on the door and suddenly it creaked open. It was too dark to see, but you could make out the shadowed silhouettes of two very familiar bodies.

“Shit.”

Dean dropped beside you so fast it made your head spin. How had they found you? How did they even get to you?

His hand lifted to your head and he brushed your hair from your eyes. Your cheek was pressed against the cool stone floor of the shed, violent shivers racking your body.

“God, Dean- look at her back.”

“We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean made to lift you but you snarled at him, reaching your hand out to slap him away from you.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hissed. You glanced back at Sam, relief flooding you as he looked unharmed. There was some blood spattered on him, but he looked fine. You didn’t think the blood was his.

“Y/n-”

“Shut up, dick,” you said. “Sam can carry me.”

“Y/n, I don’t know how I’m going to. It’s… it’s bad. I don’t want to hurt you,” Sam said softly. He bent down beside you as well. 

“I don’t think I can walk. It’s going to hurt like a fucking bitch but just do it,” you said. “How did you guys get to me?”

“A lot of fighting and a lot of bullets,” Dean said morbidly. “Bobby’s our getaway driver. He’s picking off a lot one by one.”

“He’s… what?” Your eyes widened. “Dean, there are children here!”

“He’s not killing them all, Y/n,” Dean said. “Just the ones who are fighting to kill you and trying to kill him.”

You let that sink in. They were killing your coven. They were killing the community you grew up with.

“Okay,” was all you said. Sam made a pained sound and reached for you.

Your body was lit with an excruciating fire.

Sam apologized so much, it all blurred together. You gasped and cried and whined as he carried you. Dean had laid his flannel over your bare chest, his face pained as Sam carried you out into the woods. Bodies laid scattered all around, fires licked towards the sky. The compound was devastated, but you could vaguely make out the shapes of some people fleeing into the trees across the field.

You could also see Jasper’s lifeless eyes staring at you from where his body was leaning against the shed, a single bullet hole in the center of his forehead. How you had not heard any of this, you weren’t sure. Perhaps you were too delirious with pain.

Your heart was in your throat now. Jasper. He was dead. Your best friend. Your confidant. Your lover. Dead amongst the ones who wanted to kill you.

He was going to stand by and watch you die.

You bit your lip and tried to push away the urge to vomit. Jasper was dead, you didn’t know about your mother, or Margot and Matthias. Your mother… you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about her too much. A sliver of yourself worried for her… but she didn’t care for you. Not really. The coven was the most important thing to her. Margot and Matthias however, you hoped they were alright. As long as you were alive, they couldn’t touch them.

“We’re almost there,” Sam spoke suddenly, bringing you from your thoughts. You were almost to the car, where you would be taken from this place once again.

“Hurry,” you rasped. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on. You were gasping for air at this point, the pain constricting even your breathing. 

“Bobby, start it!”

“Holy mother of-”

“Just do it! She won’t last much longer,” Sam ordered. Bobby reluctantly turned from where he started forward towards you, getting into the driver’s seat of the Impala. Sam sat you in the back seat and started to get in with you but was pulled back. He grunted as he landed on his ass, Dean taking his place.

“Not you!” You didn’t want him anywhere near you.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you again.” You laid on your stomach across the back seat, your cheek resting against his thigh as he gently laid your head down onto him. The fire across your back faded ever so slightly, but it had been reawoken when Sam touched it. You wished unconsciousness would claim you but it didn’t. Tears slipped from your cheeks.

“How could you?” You whispered. You found yourself repeating it again and again, Dean’s hand stroking your hair as he shushed you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally, as if the gods had heard your prayer, the edges of your vision began to darken, and sleep claimed you at last.

DEAN

Dean’s back was to the wall. In one hand, he held a beer, and in the other he held a small bouquet of flowers. It was a useless sentiment, he knew that, especially when it was his doing that caused this.

Another yelp of pain from the room behind him and he flinched. Bobby and Sam had been hard at work for the past two hours on Y/n’s wounds. She had kicked Dean out promptly as soon as she regained consciousness. She was furious with him and she should be.

Dean didn’t blame her. 

The door opened and Sam stepped out. His shirt was covered in blood, hands stained pink. His face, ashen and pinched, turned to look at Dean.

“Well?” Dean asked.

“She needs rest. She’s… she’s going to scar pretty badly.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “How could they do that?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “Is she alright?”

Sam scoffed. “No. No, she’s not alright, Dean. She was given up by someone she thought she could trust, whipped to ribbons by her own mother, and then was thrown in a cell to wait for her slaughter. So no, she’s not alright.”

Dean stiffened. “Her mother did that?”

“As punishment,” Sam seethed. “Apparently it wasn’t the first time.”

Dean thought he was going to be sick. He took a deep breath and stood up, hesitating. “I want to see her.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Sam said.

“I know. But I at least want to apologize, even if she doesn’t believe me,” Dean murmured. He glanced down at the flowers in his hand, a futile attempt of an “I’m sorry” and he knew it. “I…”

“I know,” Sam said softly when Dean couldn’t finish his thought. He couldn’t quite say the words yet. He didn’t even have half a mind to think them. Sam reached over to squeeze his brother’s shoulder gently. “I know.”

Dean gave a low nod and stepped around Sam, ducking into the study. 

It had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. The desk had been cleared of items, a sheet thrown over it, a pillow supporting Y/n’s head where she laid upon it. Everything had been pushed away against the wall, making room for bags of gauze, salves, and other medical tools that Dean cringed away from. It smelled strongly of antiseptic and blood, making Dean woozy as he stepped inside.

Y/n’s eyes were half open and glazed over. She stared unfocused at a spot on the wall beside Dean, and didn’t flinch as he stepped right beside her line of sight. She just simply stared.

Bobby sat beside the desk, one hand in hers- which once again had bandages wrapped around her wrists- as he watched her closely. Her back had been heavily bandaged, blood staining the sheets below her body, tears long drying on her face, leaving streaks on her cell-dusted skin.

“How are you feeling?”

Her eyes lifted to him finally. They were cold and hard and so void of emotion it made Dean shiver.

“What do you think?” 

Dean swallowed hard and placed the flowers on a nearby shelf. He wrung his hands together as he thought of what to say next.

“Bobby, would you mind-”

“Don’t even ask, boy.” Bobby didn’t even move when he said it. He just stayed in his position, gaze locked on the broken girl on the table, face pulled into a deep frown.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured. “Y/n, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“How sweet of you,” she said. “Now get out.”

“Please.” Dean said.

“I trusted you.”

Dean’s breath hitched. Her voice had turned soft and pained. So unlike her and so full of anguish. 

“I trusted you and you betrayed me,” she said. “I don’t trust people easily, Dean. But I trusted you. I trusted you and Sam and Bobby. That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Ever since I met you, you have wanted to kill me. You never trusted me. I’m a witch, just another monster for you to kill. That night? I thought you were going to do it yourself. What you did was worse. You gave me back to the people who I ran from. Who killed my father. You took away my freedom again. You took away my choice again. You took it all away when you gave me back.”

She was crying now, tears silently dripping to the pillow beneath her cheek. 

“I’m not the untrustworthy one, Dean Winchester. You are. You call yourself a hunter. You tell yourself you save people. Apparently the bar falls short as soon as you are something different, regardless of what kind of soul you are.” She pushed herself up onto her elbows to get a better look at him. Dean would never, not until the day he died, forget the look she gave him in that moment; malicious and hurt, her eyes dark and narrowed. 

“Go back to hell, Dean.”

Dean thought his chest had been ripped open. He touched the skin over his heart as her words sunk in.

Go back to hell, Dean.

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me-”

“I don’t need to do shit,” she snarled. Dean winced at her tone, so dark and vicious. “I need you to leave.”

“Y/n-”

“That’s your cue, boy,” Bobby said. Dean’s shoulders slumped. He gave one last longing look to her, taking note of her eyes and how they left him again, staring unfocused at that damn spot on the wall, before turning and ducking back out of the room, finishing off his beer in the hallway and making his way to the kitchen for another.

Y/N

“Please be careful.”

Bobby loaded the last of your bags into the back of the truck. He had given you the same truck he picked you up in a year ago. 

Your back was finally healed enough thanks to your spells, scars now the only reminder. You didn’t look in the mirror, not anymore, knowing how it would look. You felt them whenever you accidently touched your skin as you changed or when you showered. You could feel the raised, soft flames that licked up to your shoulders, forever imprinted into your back. The ones you had before were small. But these? These were long and large in number, the spite and anger of the one who created them clear in their abundance.

It had been a week since Dean had given you back to your coven. In that time, you hadn’t seen him again, not since he tried to apologize the night they rescued you. 

Of course, you wouldn’t have needed rescuing if he hadn’t given you up.

The boys were due back soon and you wanted to be long gone once they arrived. You were going to start hunting. Really hunting. You were fine, your healing salves and spells doing their job perfectly. The scars would be the only reminder.

“I will,” you promised. You were ready for this. You needed this.

Bobby hugged you tightly, mindful of the pressure on your back, before he pushed you lightly towards the truck.

“Alright, off you go, ya’ idjit.” You grinned and got up into the truck. “You sure you don’t want to see them?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “I never want to see Dean again. Not in this lifetime.”

Which was half true. He had hurt you beyond words. He had taken your trust and destroyed it. He had given you back to the people who killed your father and planned on killing you. But at the same time, you understood. Dean’s world revolved around Sam. He would put his life on the line, and has, for his brother. A part of you understood why he did what he did. You went crazy when Danny died, knowing the one person besides your father who loved you just as much as you loved them was dead. You had tried everything, even resorting to dabbling in necromancy, but your mother had caught you, and your last hope of bringing your brother back was gone. 

So yes, you understood Dean to a point. You just couldn’t get over the pain it caused you.

Bobby nodded at your words and kicked a rock in the dirt. “I hope you change your mind someday. Maybe not anytime soon. But someday.”

You blinked a few times and processed his words. You were going to answer, but thought better of it, instead going with, “I’ll call you when I know where I’m going.”

Bobby sighed. “You better,” he said. He gave you a wave. “Kick some ass.”

***

Two months later

“Another?”

The bartender tapped the bar beside your empty beer.

“Please.” He nodded and turned to pour you another. You sighed and rested your chin in your hand, your other hand lazily scrolling through your laptop in search of cases. You had just finished a ghoul case that morning and were already itching for another one. 

The bartender set the beer down in front of you and raised a brow. “Hard at work?”

You shrugged and sipped your beer. “Something like that.”

He cocked his head, eyes trained on you as he cleaned a glass. “Are you busy tonight?” He shifted nervously. 

You looked up at him. He was very attractive, with warm brown skin, hair black as night, and a crooked smile that would make anyone weak in the knees. You had frequented this bar the last few nights and your conversations were always nice. He was sweet and handsome and if this was before your tangle with the coven, you would have taken him up on his offer.

But the scars hadn’t faded.

“Yeah, I’ll be working all night,” you said. He frowned a bit. “And if I wasn’t leaving town tomorrow, I would take you up on that.”

He grinned a bit. “Thanks. Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m okay.” You drank your beer deeply and reached into your bag, pulling out more than enough money for the beers. “Keep the change, okay?”

“Thank you,” he said. You finished your beer and gathered up your things.

Many of your nights went like this. How were you supposed to explain the scars to someone? They were gnarly and would immediately spark fear and confusion and that was something you didn’t want to deal with.

Your phone rang and you grumbled to yourself. Unlocking the truck, you hauled yourself inside, setting your laptop down before you answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?”

“Sam?” You smiled. You and Sam had stayed in touch. Just because Dean was an ass didn’t mean you couldn’t still talk to your friend. “What’s up?”

Sam loosed a breath. Uh oh. “Look, I wouldn’t call you if this wasn’t important.”

“No.”

“Y/n, come on.”

“No, Sam.”

“Please?” Sam said. “We really need help and no one else is stepping up to bat.”

“What about Bobby?”

He paused. “He actually told us to call you.”

Damn him! You groaned. “Why do you two need help? Aren’t you like the best hunters in the world?”

Sam scoffed. “I know you and Dean have your differences-”

“-Differences!-”

“But we could really use your skill. Please?” 

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes. “You know, I can feel your puppy dog eyes through the phone.”

“Are they working?”

“... Maybe.”

“Come on. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Sam said.

You pressed your knuckles into your forehead. “Jesus- fine.”

“Thank you!” Sam said. “I’ll send you the address to our motel.”

“Whatever.”

DEAN

“Is she coming?”

Sam turned at the sound of his brother’s voice. Dean’s heart thumped heavily in his chest.

“Yes,” Sam replied. Dean grinned. “But don’t chase her away, Dean. I mean it.”

“I won’t,” Dean said quickly. “But this could be my last chance to make things right with her.”

“Dean, she doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

“I need to, Sam.” Dean looked down at his hands. “I need to make things right. It sucks not talking to her. It sucks not seeing her.”

“Because you lo-”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snapped. Sam grinned wickedly and flopped down onto his bed.

“Well don’t you?” Sam asked. He folded his arms under his head, propping himself up to look at Dean.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning his guns. Sam had no idea what he was talking about. Dean wasn’t sure what he felt for Y/n, but he knew it was friendly. He hoped she had once felt the same way, and maybe if she knew what he felt, she could learn to forgive him.

Or this whole plan could crash and burn and chase her even further away.

Regardless, Dean was going to try.

***

Three hours later, someone knocked on the motel room door.

Sam got up to answer it but Dean shoved him back, resulting in a smack on the head, but he was able to reach the door first.

Opening it, Dean’s eyes landed on Y/n. Her eyes met his, a scowl painted on her lovely face as she zeroed in on him. She looked him up and down and hoisted her backpack over her shoulder. It was ratty and worn, but Dean noticed she took it on all her trips. He wondered what its significance was.

“Well. Aren’t you going to let me in?” She asked. Dean, startled by her voice, lurched out of the way, nearly knocking over a small table. 

“Nice,” Sam mouthed, rolling his eyes. He smiled at Y/n who stepped inside, brushing past Dean quickly to give Sam a hug. “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you, Sam.” She gave Dean a dirty look. “So. What are we hunting?”

Y/N

The hunt went by smoothly.

It was a vamp nest, and a large one, definitely too difficult for two people but just easy enough with three. You had worked in tandem with boys as if you did it all your life. By the end, they both turned to you impressed.

“Wow. You’ve really trained hard, haven’t you?” Sam asked, bumping his hip with yours as you walked to the car. You wiped blood from your forehead.

“I kinda have to if I want to hunt alone.”

Dean spun to face you, blocking your path. You halted and glared up at him. God, he looked like shit. You noticed it when you arrived at the motel. His face was gaunt, eyes slightly sunken with dark circles beneath them. A permanent frown seemed etched on his lips and he looked like he lost some weight. He looked as if he was being eaten away by something.

He looked as if he was being eaten away by guilt.

A part of you took pride in that, but another part, a larger part, was sad. Sad that he had gotten this way. Sad that the man you loved was in so much despair, all you wanted to do was comfort him.

Of course, that despair was caused by himself, but you pushed that thought away.

“You’re doing what?”

“Hunting? Didn’t Bobby tell you?” You stepped around him.

“I thought he meant hunting with him, not alone,” he said. He hurried after you. “You could get hurt!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have thought you cared, Dean,” you said. You shrugged and gave him a pointed look. “Seeing as you’ve hurt me before.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“And I said go back to hell!”

“Okay!” Sam stepped between you and Dean, lightly pushing on your chest. He glared at his brother, but turned to you with a more gentle expression. “Let’s just calm down, okay? We’ll take you back to the motel.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You lightly pushed his hand away and threw open the back door, slamming it shut. You smirked when you saw Dean start forward in anger at how you treated his car, Sam stopping him with a hand on his chest again. They spoke lowly to each other before Dean slumped and got into the car, Sam close behind him.

Yeah, you absolutely regretted agreeing to help.

***

Later that night, you were lounging in your motel room, watching trash television, when there was a knock on your door.

There was a good possibility it was Dean. You knew that. Yet you still got up to open it. To be honest, maybe you’d like to hear him apologize again. It wouldn’t hurt. 

You’d do it for Bobby. Not for yourself. For Bobby.

Opening the door, unsurprisingly, Dean stood there. His head was ducked slightly, face pulled into a nervous pout.

“Hey.”

You leaned against the door frame. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” He asked. “Please?”

You bit your lip and moved out of the way, gesturing him inside. He muttered a thank you and stepped past you. You closed the door softly and turned to lean against it. He stood in the center of the room, looking down at a spot on the ground instead of at you.

“Y/n, I know you hate me. I know that.”

You felt as if you were going to be sick. “I… I don’t, you know, hate you.” 

He furrowed his brow but didn’t look up at you. “You don’t?”

“I don’t particularly like you right now.” His lip quirked slightly. “But I don’t hate you.”

He rubbed his chin and turned to sit on the edge of your bed, resting his hands on his knees. One knee bounced and he rolled his shoulders a bit. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t answer but didn’t look away either. He continued. “What I did… I know it wasn’t okay. I won’t excuse myself for what I did. I just knew I had to save Sam and I went about it very, very poorly.”

You continued to stare at him silently.

“I should have figured something out. I was just so afraid. I do very… stupid things… to save him. I sold my soul and went to hell for crying out loud.” He smiled without humor. “Giving you to them will forever be something I will regret. Seeing you in that cell, bloody and broken, it’s an image I will never get out of my head.” His eyes turned misty and he swallowed thickly. “I will never forgive myself and I will live the rest of my life with that image. I will live the rest of my life knowing I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

You tentatively took a step towards him, and another, until you stood directly beside him. His green eyes finally lifted to yours, lined with tears, and you slowly sunk down to sit beside him. Biting your lip, you reached forward for one of his hands, resting it palm up in yours. 

“I’ve… I’ve liked you for a long time now, Y/n,” he whispers. Your heart began to rapidly thump in your chest. “More than like, I think. And it scares the hell out of me. I’m so sorry.”

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. You knew about your own feelings for him. Even after what he did, they had been buried beneath anger, but not disintegrated. You traced a line on his palm.

“All I could think about when you gave me up was how much I had trusted you, and how betrayed I felt,” you began. He stilled beneath your touch. “After, I was just so angry. Angry at you for doing that to me. Angry at myself for letting myself become vulnerable.” You hesitated before continuing. “I was hurt. Really hurt. And conflicted. I wasn’t sure how I could love someone and hate them at the same time.”

Dean pulled back from you.

You hadn’t even realized you said it until his face morphed into one of shock. 

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

You leaped to your feet, mouth open and closing, your brain racing to find something to say. But your thoughts were clouded with panic. “I don’t… I mean… I didn’t mean to say…”

You backed away from him but he stood and followed. His eyes were full of longing as he reached for your hands and brought them to his chest.

“Don’t turn away from me. Not after that.”

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I’m glad you did,” he told you. 

“Why?”

He grinned. “Because I didn’t want to be the only one with those feelings.”

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you murmured. He chuckled a bit.

“I’m supposed to hate you. But look at me.”

“Look at me,” you echoed. 

“A hunter and a witch, who would have thought?” He said amused. You smiled shyly. 

“I… I forgive you, Dean.” He sagged in relief. “But I won’t forget.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He lifted his hand to brush his fingers down your cheek lovingly. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked at him, letting his words sink in. Once they did, your grin widened, and you reached up on your tip-toes to plant a soft kiss to his lips. 

When you pulled back after a moment, he searched your eyes, waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to stop. 

But you didn’t.

He leaned down to press his lips to yours, harder this time, wrapping his arms around your waist to lift you to gain better access. His lips were soft against yours, moving in fever, his body warm against you. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

“I can’t. Because I do.” You kissed him roughly, bringing your hands up to curl in his hair. He growled against your lips and moved you to the bed, pressing you down beneath him gently. He rolled his body over yours and you widened your legs to let him fit between them. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Dean.”

He moved to suck and kiss your pulse point, making you moan. “God, me too.”

You cupped his face and dragged his mouth back to yours. His hands lowered to the button on your jeans, popping them open before he pulled away from your mouth again. You whined at the loss and he chuckled.

“Patience, baby.”

You raised your hips as he pulled down your jeans. He kissed down your legs as he pulled off your socks and looked up at you with hooded eyes. He grinned against your skin before he kissed his way back up, landing a kiss to the top of your pelvis. He thumbed your panties.

“Are you sure?”

“God, yes.” You ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly, and that was all he needed.

He pulled your panties down your legs, kissing the area above your pubic bone as he gently coaxed your legs further apart. You peered down at him, but his eyes were trained on your sex, his pupils dilated wide, lips slightly swollen from your kissing. Jesus, the man was like sex on legs.

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the hood of your clit. You groaned and jerked at his touch, keening when his tongue ran through your folds.

“Jesus, Dean!”

He ate you out slowly at first, teasingly licking and sucking, before he moved faster, feasting on you like a starved man. His tongue prodded at your entrance before he licked inside, his thumb strumming your clit it time with his ministrations. Your hips raised off the bed, pleasure jolting through you, but he splayed his free hand over your abdomen, keeping you down, making you take everything he was giving.

“Dean!”

He smirked against you, dragging his tongue up through your folds again, sending a deep shudder over you. He hummed, flicking his tongue over your clit a few times, a moan eliciting itself from your throat. He slowly pushed a finger inside you, your back arching slightly as he curled it, pumping a few times before adding another. He suddenly sucked down roughly, a cry pushing itself from your lungs to bounce off the walls, his fingers scissoring in and out at a rapid pace. Your chest was heaving as he curled his fingers again, curling so deep, pads brushing against your g-spot with every move.

You came, falling over the edge violently as he suddenly and harshly sucked your clit into his mouth again. He continued to give kitten licks to your clit as you came down from your high. As you caught your breath, you peeked an eye open to spot him grinning like a cat.

“Don’t ruin it, Winchester.”

He laughed and pushed himself up to kiss your cheek. “But that’s so much fun!”

You smirked and reached for his belt. You unbuckled it and took it off him before throwing it aside. He kicked off his shoes and you unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed himself up to stand and shimmy out of them, peeling off his socks as he went, before he pulled his shirt up and over his head. His boxers strained against his dick, and you went to reach for them, but he stopped you.

“Take off your shirt.”

You froze. If you did, he’d see the scars on your back. They were so gloriously unsexy and you knew he’d look at you in disgust if he saw them.

“No, I don’t want to.”

You were still sitting up, but Dean bent to crawl over you. Your faces were only inches apart, his breath fanning over your face. You shivered.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen your back before it was healed. Don’t hide from me. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“They’re ugly,” you whispered. He shook his head and lifted one of your hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Nothing about you is ugly, Y/n,” he said softly. “Don’t be ashamed of them. Please.”

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes for a moment. Once you gathered enough courage, you lifted your shirt up and over your head, knowing your scars were on full display for him if he just looked over your shoulder. You sighed and he lifted his hand to run over your shoulder, down your back, and to the clasp of your bra.

“Look at me,” he said. You complied, keeping your eyes on him as he unclasped your bra and gently pulled the straps down your arms. He tossed it behind him, leaving you naked beneath him. He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “I love every inch of you, Y/n.”

You shuddered as he kissed your neck again.

“I want you,” you whispered into his ear. You ran a hand over his back and up to scratch lightly at the nape of his neck.

He kissed you quickly and pushed his boxers down and off. His cock sprang free, and you reached down, gripping it. He groaned as you ran your thumb over his tip, spreading the pre-cum that beaded there, before stroking him a few more times.

“Do you want me?”

He cleared his throat and grunted as you squeezed him gently. “You know I do.”

You licked the shell of his ear, feeling him tremble beneath you. “Then show me.”

He snapped.

He growled low in his throat as he pushed you down gently, hovering over you, one hand gripping one of yours, the other batting your other hand away from his cock. You giggled and he gave you a pointed look before positioning himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock running up and down your slit a few times, lathering himself in your wetness. He pressed himself gently into you, only the tip of him nestled in your warmth.

He entwined your fingers together, eyes locked on yours as he slowly eased himself into you. You felt your walls stretch to accommodate him, a slight burn following, but it quickly eased as he bottomed out. 

“God, you feel good,” he said lowly into your ear. He gently pulled out until just the tip of his cock was inside you before pushing back in. He moved in long, deep strokes, and hell did it feel good. You slowly began to feel yourself moving with him, trying to match his thrusts and meet him there.

“Faster,” you pleaded, the coil once again beginning to wrap around itself. He bottomed out with each thrust, and his balls slapped against your ass with each plunge. He quickened his pace, but also lifted your leg to wrap around his waist. The angle allowed him to reach depths you didn’t even know you had. He brushed against your sweet spot with each stroke of his cock, and your eyes fell shut at the intense pleasure. 

“Dean, I need more,” you said breathlessly. He moved his hand down between you, his finger beginning to strum at your clit in small circles, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. “I’m going to come.”

“You can do it, baby,” Dean said. “I’m right behind you.”

He began to rub your clit faster and harder, his hips stuttering into a sloppy pace as he neared his own end. With one more thrust of his cock against your sweet spot, you were coming, body spasming and inner walls clenching around his dick. He followed only moments after, his face buried in your neck as he moaned his relief, spilling himself deep inside you.

You stayed still for a moment, his cock still enveloped inside you as the two of you simply laid together in the afterglow. He kissed your neck and pulled out once his cock had softened inside you.

He left for a moment, disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He swiped it between your legs, then his own, before he tossed it back into the bathroom. He climbed back into bed with you and pulled you against his chest. You winced as your scars rubbed up against his chest, but he simply pulled you tighter against him.

This was Dean. You shouldn’t be ashamed. Not around him. Not at all.

He kissed the back of your neck. “I will never, ever, hurt you again, Y/n.”

You grabbed hold of one of his hands, tugging it up to your chest over your heart, holding it there. You sighed happily and smiled.

“I know, Dean.”

He gently lifted a finger to tilt your chin back to look him in the eye. “No. You don’t. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He kissed you softly. “I swear it.”

“I love you.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling as he looked at you. He kissed you again, gently, lovingly, and brushed a hand over the side of your face.

“I love you, too.”

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural #fanfiction #oneshot #commission #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn #waywardrose13

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 11: “The Temptation of Death”?

Wonder Egg Priority is a beautiful, uncomfortable, moving and confusing series that starts out engaging all the things we don’t talk about—self-harm, abuse, rape, bullying, gender dysmorphia, and homosexuality, to name a few. Our silence and blindness to these issues have a weight and pressure to them, and WEP shows how this reinforces the isolation and hopelessness of the young women of the “eggs” who turn to suicide for relief. The first ten episodes have been exhilarating and exhausting alike.

And then there is Episode 11. This past week, the series took a bit of a turn, leaning hard into the sci-fi-philosophical, with appearances from Greek gods, a murderous artificial intelligence, and really, really disturbing insect girls, one of whom, despite being a brutal killer, is apparently a vegetarian. Has the show gone off the rails? Has it lost its way in departing from the familiar procedural approach of engaging a differing social or mental health issue with each episode?

Such a critique is perfectly legit, but before you write off the penultimate episode of WEP, just hear me out on why the abstract, meta turn in episode 11 may just be the most valuable thing this series has to offer so far.

Before we begin though, a little recap of what we learned this week. In episode 10, we hear the eggheads, Acca and Ura-Acca, discuss the need for warriors of Eros to battle Thanatos. This is our first hint that things are about to get lore-full and maybe a bit weird. Eros and Thanatos are of course gods in the ancient Greek pantheon, Eros being the god of love, and Thanatos, of non-violent death. Within the first minute or so of episode 11, it’s clear that the eggheads’ hope is now focused on Ai becoming the long-awaited warrior. At this point though, rather than continuing with Ai’s story, the episode shifts into flashback mode and we are finally introduced to the villain, an artificial intelligence created by the eggheads back when they were still human. Their lives gradually come to revolve around her: She is the fulfillment of their obsession to create life, and she is good.

Frill is associated with hydrangeas, which symbolise heartlessness and pride in Japanese flower language. But is it her heartlessness and pride, or that of her makers?

(Atelier Emily has done an outstanding series of posts on the flowers in WEP. Check it out!)

Only, it turns out she doesn’t play so nice when others join the happy family. After killing Acca’s wife, and putting the life of the unborn baby at risk, the AI—who named herself Frill—is unrepentant, all traces of her seeming humanity now revealed to be illusory, a mere affectation. Acca locks her away in a hole in the cellar. Years pass. The baby, Himari, grows up and is a ray of sunshine. But after effectively confessing to her ‘uncle’ (why does anime always do this?), she commits suicide. Ura-Acca discovers that Frill is still very much alive and active from her hole in the cellar, having powered up all the discarded monitors and laid down reams of electrical cables—to what end, we do not yet know. Though Ura-Acca surmises that she has somehow influenced Himari to take her own life. How else would the girl have known about Ura-Acca’s admiration for her mother? Where else would she have learned to make what will forever be to me now that uncannily sinister popping sound?

Here’s where it gets weirder. Unlike the suicides of subsequent egg girls, there is no indication that Himari, Frill’s apparent first victim, struggled with any mental health or other issues that would motivate her to take her own life. Indeed, her ‘uncle’ did not even reject her confession. (Again anime, why you do this thing?) Instead, the eggheads explain Himari’s suicide as being on account of the “temptation of death.” What now?

This is implying that death is somehow attractive, not just to someone facing overwhelming brokenness, trauma or pain, like the egg girls we’ve met so far, but to someone on the verge of stepping from a (relatively) happy childhood into young adulthood, with the promise of potential love to look forward to; someone who has not known suffering, but rather only smiles and cake. (To be fair, it is always possible that she experienced trauma in the womb, or was more deeply affected by her father’s sadness than Ura-Acca’s memories belie.)

That’s my question too, Ai.

The notion of death as somehow attractive or even beautiful is rather alien to Western culture. Certainly, there will always be some who romanticize death, à la star-crossed lovers (Shakespeare, I’m looking at you). But in general, Western culture views death as something ugly and frightening, something to avoid until it is staring you directly in the face, and even then, closing your eyes in denial is a perfectly reasonable response. Death is one of those things we don’t talk about. In my experience, Anglo-American culture is not very good at even mourning death. We lack the grieving rituals and observances of other cultures, and instead seek to confine death to the sealed, sanitized spaces of hospitals, care homes, and funeral parlors. We keep it shrouded tightly in silence. How could there ever be anything like the “temptation of death”? How could we ever consider death to be something desirable? Are the eggheads or CloverWorks simply aestheticising suicide and death here to make it sound deep and philosophical?

No, I don’t think that’s it. Instead, Acca and Ura-Acca are doing what all good researchers do—and indeed what all Christians, as believers in an unseen spiritual reality, are also called to do: They are looking more deeply into phenomena that seem, on the surface, to already be explained. The two idol fans were consumed with their obsession, so when their idol killed herself, they followed suit. The young woman whose identity was wrapped up in her own appearance ended her life to preserve her beauty. The abused gymnast saw no way out, no hope in ever living free from torment. Some explanations may be more sympathetic than others, but they all possess their own internal logic. Contemporary society is full of a vast array of pressures and stresses and each one, taken to breaking point, can result in death. Case closed. This might very well be our conclusion from the first ten episodes.

Only the case isn’t closed. Because there is a question that has pervaded every episode until now, but has remained unspoken: How is it that death could even become an option for the egg girls? Why does reaching a breaking point trigger suicide? What made death seem like a savior to these girls? This is the question that episode 11 tackles, in its own admittedly obscure way. The eggheads are focused on the underlying, deeper reality that unites all the eggs’ stories, as disparate as they are—the common thread, which is the idea that death is a release, a rescue, a beautiful ending, and as a result, it is tempting.

“But we wondered if there could be another push that drove them to suicide,” explains Ura-Acca.

This is a really important question for us to be asking. Because it’s not just these traumatized, vulnerable girls who fall for the seduction of death. We do, too.

Just ponder for a moment: Have you ever anticipated how wonderful it will be when, in heaven, you no longer struggle with that particular temptation? When your temper is no longer so short, when you’re not afraid of being hurt anymore? Or maybe you think about how one day, on those gold-paved streets, you won’t have to worry anymore. All your hard work coping and just keeping it together will finally pay off and you’ll cross that finish line and heave a sigh of relief, knowing that you made it in the end. Have you ever contemplated these kinds of things? I know I have.

But here’s the thing: When I expect my liberation to come only after I die and not right here, right now, then it is not Jesus who is my savior, but death. I am waiting for death to free me from temptation and sin and fear and brokenness, and usher me into eternal life. I make Thanatos my god.

The temptation of death is not limited to the drastic act of suicide, but also permeates all the accusations and fears that inspire us to put off living the fullness of life in Christ here and now. It’s the temptation to believe that it is death that will ultimately solve the more difficult and painful problems in life.

Acca and Ura-Acca seek to create a love that suits their ideals, just to relieve their stress.

The source of this “temptation of death” in Wonder Egg Priority is Frill, the AI. That is, a man-made, artificial version of love—with ai meaning “love” in Japanese. According to Ura-Acca, they made her “just for fun,” as a way of dealing with the stress of their enclosed lives. They designed her to suit their preferences, to make it easier to love her and forget that she was artificial. In this sense, Frill is the fruit of their self-centeredness, her every characteristic designed to satisfy their own ideals of how a daughter and woman should be. And this artificial love born of selfishness brings death into their midst and beyond, spreading it through the horrendous deformities of girlhood that she in turn creates, in imitation of her fathers. (Only perhaps her creations are less deceptive than theirs, wearing their monstrosity plainly on the outside…)

Frill’s creations. We’ve met Dash (right) and Dot (center), but who is that on the left? And is her name Morse??

To counter her destructive influence, Acca and Ura-Acca need true love, a genuine love. They need Ai, a messy, at times very weak human being, but one who nevertheless is willing to fight to live up to her name and maybe, just maybe, become a warrior of Eros.

There is also a deep, underlying force at work in our world, one that connects all despair and the actions born of it. A wide range of social issues, traumas and mental health challenges can and do trigger suicide, but they do not explain it fully. The deeper reality is the existence of an enemy who seeks to manipulate us into believing our true savior can only be death, whether it is right away by our own hand, or more subtly, decades from now by natural causes. But this is a lie, and it is one that we can combat. Just as I’m sure we’ll see in the final episode that Ai is equipped to wage the coming battle in WEP, so too are we armed, here and now, with the power to overwhelm the enemy’s “temptation of death”—we possess already the words of life, given to us by our true savior.

Jesus began his ministry with a public announcement that he had come to heal heart wounds, comfort those in pain, fill broken lives with beauty, and wrap those in despair with reasons to praise like a warm protective blanket, so that they might celebrate with joy once again. He came to bring freedom to prisoners and captives alike, giving a fresh new life to those locked up because of deeds done wrong, and those punished and injured at the hands of others. He came to take the outcasts, the weak, the traumatized and broken and transform them into mighty oaks, clean and strong; into people with the vision and skill and compassion and fortitude to rebuild a broken world (Isaiah 61:1-4, Luke 4:18),

He came to rewrite and restore our experience of life here on earth, and through us, to redeem our communities, cities, nations, and the world. God does not withhold the fullness of life from us until we finally make it to him in heaven. No, instead he moved heaven and earth to get right up close so that he could pour his own life out into us, even going so far as to breathe his very spirit into our hearts and bodies and minds. We don’t need to wait for death’s rescue—our hero has already come. But we do need to remind each other and ourselves of this truth pretty often, and let it work down deep into all the cracks and bruises in our souls until it strengthens all our weak spots.

In Deuteronomy 30:19, God tells the Israelites that he has given them the authority to choose between life and death. But he also tips the balances in their favor, urging them to choose life. In Jesus, he comes to tip the balances even further, making it possible for us to step into eternal life here and now, immediately and forever. So let’s do it. Each day, through each struggle we face. Let’s choose life and not death.

Warrior of love? And is Ai’s himawari (sunflower) related to Himari somehow?

Join me (in spirit) for the final episode on Tuesday to see Ai’s love triumph! (At least, I really really hope that’s what happens!)

#wonder egg priority #wep #wep frill #ai ohto #Christianity #blog #NOT by me but rather by one of our other writers: cajk2

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Spark In The Snow

Was gonna go for straight comedy but this wrote itself into fluff. Also it was gonna be a one shot but I decided to leave it open to possibly becoming a multi-parter if I have the time. But I tried to leave in the Azula/Daniela chaotic duo aspect I mentioned. 

Summary: Azula is a fire in Alcina’s otherwise cold and desolate world. She brings a certain spark to the castle that is as vexing as it is endearing. Anyways, her daughters are fond of the girl so how bad can it be?

A simmering summer, Alcina decides, is more chaotic than a merciless winter. Fire is wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It leaps from one thing to the next, searing away all that which it touches. Winter leaves a frosty kiss but it can be dispelled and warded off. Winter is predictable, summer is strange, feral.

Winters is predictable. Azula is anything but. Winters has a knack for smashing windows--breaking anything with a glass surface, really. Azula sets fire to everything that will burn. Winters does it out of spite and malice. Alcina is convinced that Azula does it for the thrill or attention. She knows that attention is Daniela does it for chaos and companionship.

Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose as another thunderous boom resounds down the expansive hallway. She takes a hard and generous swallow of wine, this particular boom had sounded rather expensive. The shatter of porcelain, perhaps her favorite bathtub.

“What are you guys doing!?” Bela screeches. It is a noble thing that the girl is trying to do. Noble but pointless. Alcina has come to find that Azula and Daniela have become quite an unstoppable duo. A duo with such ferocity that even Winters has stopped coming by.

She isn’t sure where the girl had come from nor what sort of mutation has granted her the ability to wield fire in her hands but she is here and Alcina can’t help but feel a fondness for her. She is a small thing, absolutely teeny--even by comparison to someone who isn’t as tall as she. And mostly she is a charming and poised girl. Elegant and well-mannered. Even tempered, a break from the chaos. A refreshing break.

But with Daniela there comes to the surface something wilder. The girl’s laugh is far less than refined when Daniela points to a large crate and yells, “oh, what about that! Set that on fire!” There comes another loud bang and Alcina flinches. She is almost certain that, that had been a crate of clothing that she has been meaning to look through. She grits her teeth and grips the armrests of her chair. She loves her daughters, loves them more than anything else. But if she hears one more explosion…

.oOo.

Azula chuckles to herself as the flames lap at the wood. Her own mother would never let her get away with such a feat. She scrambles her way up a chair. Castle Dimitrescu is somewhat intimidating in its impressive size. There isn’t a single thing that she doesn’t have to ask one of the Dimitrescu sisters to help her reach.

When they aren’t around she has to quite literally scale counters and furniture. And the bed...she had thought her bed at the palace was large. The one she sleeps in now has room for several of her as well as a mongoose-lizard or two.

And it is no wonder, she hears the thunder of Lady Dimitrescu’s footsteps.

“OhHHh fUcK!” Daniela shouts. Before Azula’s reflexes have a chance to kick in, she snatches her off of the chair she had worked so hard to ascend. “She’ll never catch us.”

“And what if she does?” Azula asks.

“Then we’ll just burst into a cloud of flies and...oh wait you can’t do that.” She slows her pace to tap her chin. “Then we’ll just have to...set MORE things on fire!” She throws her hands up. Azula gives a yelp of surprise as her body is tossed into the air.

She catches herself on a chandelier and pulls herself onto its fixture. It bobs precariously though she can’t imagine that she weighs anywhere near enough to bring it down.  

“Whoops.” Daniela winces from below.

Having successfully launched her partner in crime to oblivion, she is left to fend for herself.

“Where is your sister?”

“Which one, mother?”

“The fiery one.”

“Cassandra’s is in her room.”

Alcina inhales deeply.  “Azula. Where is Azula.”

“Oh, right, yes. Well you see, she’s really small and so I may or may not have thrown her clear across the castle.” Perhaps her lie would have had more success if she hadn’t offered the chandelier a wink. Alcina reaches up in an attempt to pluck her down. Azula ducks under the woman’s hand but one misplacement of her hand has her tumbling to the ground.

With a most devious grin, Daniela lets out a screech and catapults herself into the air. She practically bodyslams Azula as she catches her and takes off into a full sprint.  “Daniela, you get back here!” She hears Alcina groan. “Bela, catch your sister!”

Daniela takes Azula’s arm and positions it out in front of her. “Make fire!”

“Do you think that your mother will finally replace this hideous wallpaper if I just…” she holds the smallest candle wick of a flame to the wall and lets Daniela’s sprint do the rest.

“Our mother won’t have a choice. Oh! Maybe if we set all of...everything on fire we can finally redecorate the house. I was thinking of something more daring like…” she trails off. “Like we can take a whole bunch of man bones and string them up on the balcony like wind chimes. Oh and I saw this neat thing at Karl’s factory. I heard minimalist is in...which is exactly why we need to clutter this place up. I was thinking sofas in the middle of the hallway and lamps hanging form the chandeliers.

“Daniela, that sounds awful.  Let’s do it!” Though she is nearly certain that it will end up driving her just as mad as it will drive Lady Dimitrescu.

Daniela comes to an abrupt halt and bursts into a cloud of flies as she collides with Bela who erupts into her own separate cloud. Azula lands with an oof. The fire, a testament to her success and thrill, crackles behind her. Bela reassembles with her hands on either side of her head, “what have you guys done!?”

“We don’t like the decore and wallpaper so we’re remodeling!” Azula declares more boldly than someone who has landed flat on the floor ought to.

Daniela lifts her off of the floor and turns her around to face the fire. “It’s…” she wipes a tear from her eye “...glorious.”

“You guys are the worst.” Cassandra grumbles. “I think that my favorite seat cushion was down this hallway.”

Daniela rolls her eyes. “Who actually bothers to pick out a favorite seat cushion anyways?”

“I do, Dani!”

Azula shrugs. “If it was in this particular hallway that it was an abomination to upholstery.”

“It’s not about the aesthetic! It’s about the feeling it gives your buttcheeks when they sink into it’s plush fabric.” Cassandra explains. “Haven’t you ever sat your ass down on something so fluffy it transported you to a new dimension?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Then how’d you get here?” Daniela asks.

Bela rolls her eyes, “because obviously comfortable seating is how you move from one universe to another.”

“The right level of booty comfort can go a long way.” Daniela insists.

“I hate to say it, but I think Daniela is right, Bela.”

With a fire blazing wildly behind her, Azula sits back and watches the siblings bicker. Such is the pattern that she has fallen into. It is thrilling, fun, and exhilarating.  This world, wherever it is, is bizarre and uncanny. Messy and wild, and there is a sense of freedom in the chaos. In becoming part of the chaos. Something liberating that she can’t find in the Fire Nation. Something that compels her to shake away what remains of her overwhelming need for perfection.

.oOo.

Alcina finds that the fire child is much easier to manage when she is sitting upon her shoulder chattering away about the politics of her own realm and how she rather enjoys having three sisters instead of one aggravating brother.

And upon her shoulder, away from Cassandra and Daniela, Azula retains her more soothing, soft spoken demeanor. The one she takes up when looking over books with Bela. This is the topic of discussion today, “I’ve never read anything like this. The history of your world is quite intriguing.”

“I am glad to hear that you are getting comfortable here.” Alcina takes a seat, picks up her kiseru, and has a drag. The smoke trails up and Azula fans it away.

“It would be wonderful if you could get some smaller chairs, climbing these is just about as tiresome as some of my firebending katas are.” She absently kicks her legs at the air, offering Alcina’s chest something of a massage.  

“I suppose that I can do that for you.”

“Perfect.” Azula claps her hands together.

For some time they sit in silence and then the girl speaks. “I’m glad that I found you. I don’t...I don’t feel like a monster here.”

Alcina furrows her brows. She has been around many a monster. By all means, she thinks it fair to call herself one. But the girl, this small, delicate thing… “why would you think that?”

“Everyone else does. My own mother…”

Alcina’s heart pangs again. Suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so much like a monster, “a mother who can’t love her child is no mother.” And for a moment she isn’t sure if she is speaking of Azula’s mother or of Mother Miranda. “A mother who makes her child feel  insignificant is a monster.” She reaches up to stroke Azula’s hair.

“You don’t think that I’m a monster?”

This girl, this beautiful girl has been made to feel unloved and unlovable.

“Why would I think that, dear?”

She shrugs. “Daniel and I have set everything you love on fire.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You haven’t set yourselves or each other on fire.”  She sighs. “I suppose that this castle was due for some renovations anyhow.” This seems to delight the girl.

“My mother had a fit when I set a single, withered rose on fire.”

“Things work differently here, as you are finding.” She rises to her feet. “It has been a while since I’ve had company on my strolls through the courtyard; my girls are unable to tolerate the cold. Would you join me?”

.oOo.

“Firebenders don’t much like the cold...mother.” It sounds strange to say on her tongue, but it feels perfectly correct. The woman’s face seems to fall. “But I’m sure you have something warm for me to wear while we’re out.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll fix you a cup of wine--if I remember correctly you prefer it without blood--and we’ll head out.”

“No blood, that’s correct.”

“Strange girl.” The woman chuckles.

She isn’t sure that she is the strange one here but she keeps it to herself while Alcina sets her back on her shoulder and makes her way into the dining room. Minutes later she finds that Alcina hasn’t any winter clothing that is even remotely her size. Instead, the woman bundles her up in a nest of blankets that very well may be Alcina’s own winter coat.

The outside world is cold on her cheeks. She finds herself pressing her hands against them as Alcina points out her favorite places in the courtyard, her favorite flowers and her favorite statues. Much like all else in this world, Azula has never seen anything quite like it. It is grand and elegant place as cold and grey on the outside as it is warm on the inside. It has many twisting, sharp spires and stone gargoyles to top them. In places it is broken, ancient. Gloomy and depressive in a haunting way that Mai would appreciate. “Your castle is beautiful, mother.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I am pleased to know that you don’t find it off putting.”

.oOo.

Azula burrows further into the blankets.

“Are you getting cold?”

“I’ve been cold.” She replies.

“I suppose that I’ve had my fill of nightair.” She cups her hand over the girl’s head, hoping to provide her with  even just a little more heat. “I ought to check up on Daniela.”

Azula nods and leans into her chest, pulling the blankets tighter around herself as she does so. “Thank you.” She mumbles. “For letting me stay here.”

Alcina ought to thank her for staying. She can’t remember the last time that she has had company, human company that she found pleasant. Human company that didn’t find her terrifying and monstrous. She just hopes that the girl will never have to see her in her second form. She shouldn’t like Azula to look upon her with fear and disgust. She thinks that it is an inevitability. Everyone leaves her eventually. Everyone save for her daughters. This girl, she reminds herself, is her daughter. She likes to think that she wouldn’t leave.

“It is no trouble at all. I do hope that you will stay with me for a long time, dear.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Resident Evil #Azula #Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu #Bela Dimitrescu #Cassandra Dimitrescu #Fanfiction

[eight-house]

Turn-ons & Turn-offs of the Signs

Check MOON, VENUS and/or MARS

Aries

Nothing turns you on faster than a partner who takes you by surprise in the bed- room. Although ultraromantic when it suits your mood, you nevertheless enjoy a bawdy romp in the hay. Your idea of a turn-on is a passionate, exhilarating lover  who challenges you mentally as well as physically. While emotional games are a no-no in the ram’s world, you adore intellectual and physical ones. In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re not afraid to own up to the truth, yet you can’t resist a dare. True to Aries’ desire to be first in everything, you enjoy making love early in the morning. You have no compunctions when it comes to trying new things; the more outrageous and exciting the innovations, the more you like them. You’re fond of little presents, especially sex toys specifically designed to increase excitement and pleasure. The head is your most powerful erogenous zone, so stroking your hair and rubbing your scalp relaxes you and heightens your sensations. You thrive on impulse and surprise, and the advances of a bold, inventive lover who catches you unaware provides a guaranteed turn-on. You’re a doer, not a dreamer. Your fantasies, if you have any, all take place inside your head and don’t seem like fantasies to you. Your tendency to dramatize your life and envision yourself as a mythological hero is not playacting, it’s an integral part of who you are. Sexy role-playing games hold little appeal for you, because the only larger-than-life character you care to play is you. For an Aries, sex for its own sake, without any personal connection, is a definite turn-off. You like sex, and want it to be spicy, exciting, and fun. Yet, even in the absence of grand passion and long devotion, you expect genuine warmth and a feeling of camaraderie between you and your bedmate.  

Taurus

Taurus is arguably the most sensuous sign in the zodiac. You thoroughly enjoy the one-on-one aspect of a romantic relationship, and the affection and intimacy it provides. In private, you make an intense bedmate; one who is happy to have the sensual encounters continue all night long. Sexually, Taurus is the Energizer Bunny of the zodiac. You thrive on unhurried nights of love play, liberally punctuated with amorous conversation, erotic fantasy, and an occasional indulgence in food and drink. The bull craves a partner who is loving, yet strong and practical. The suitor who arrives bearing gifts and kind words easily wins your heart, since Taurus is responsive to both material goods and heartfelt compliments. Making you feel safe and secure is a smart strategy for any potential lover. What you want most is to live in a comfortable world and have a special someone to share it with. One-night stands are not your style. You regard lovemaking as an art; and when you go to bed with someone, it’s to make love, not to have sex. Elegant surroundings, sensuous perfumes, silky fabrics, soft music, and sex-play involving table delicacies such as whipped cream or chocolate are guaranteed turn-ons. You particularly enjoy being kissed around the neck and throat, and having your skin gently stroked sets your whole body on fire. For you, making love is a process that inevitably involves wooing and protracted foreplay. Luxury loving and pleasure- oriented, you take your time in bed. Your ideal lover moves in slowly, savoring every moment, and builds gradually to a powerful climax. 

Gemini

There is no doubt that your major erogenous zone is located inside your head. Nothing turns you on faster, or more completely, than wit and charm, and you are aroused by erotic words and clever, evocative quips. Phone sex must have been vented by a Gemini. The same goes for the hot and heavy sexual banter that takes place in online chat rooms and via e-mail. Although you respond amorously to tactile pleasures, it’s sharing your erotic thoughts and dreams with your lover that re- ally gets you going. Lusty words (yours or your partner’s) engage your vivid imagination and inflame your libido. The Gemini nature is so changeable, that it is difficult to say exactly what you will like from one sexual encounter to the next. The twins’ aversion to boredom is legendary. You consider variety the most important ingredient in lovemaking and thrive on innovation and versatility. You equate sex with fun, and enjoy engaging in fantasy and role-playing games. Moreover, Geminis are fantastic kissers, and enjoy doing it. Restless and perpetually on the go, the typical Gemini has a somewhat nervous temperament. Sex play relaxes you, and soaking in a tub or spa with your partner prior to lovemaking helps sooth your jangled nerves. Since you were born under the most unpredictable sign in the zodiac, the only thing your lover can truly count on is that anything is possible. An adventurous lover, you long to please and be pleased. If you don’t know what your partner likes, you ask.

Cancer

The crab’s favorite fantasy generally includes good food and great sex. Any artful combination of these two sensual activities is virtually guaranteed to turn you on. Preparing and eating a luscious feast together with your lover evokes an atmosphere of voluptuous indulgence. A private encounter that begins in the kitchen, and ends with you feeding each other delectable little snacks in bed, can turn into an erotic free-for-all. The breast and chest are erogenous zones for most people, but this is especially true for those born under the sign of the crab. You enjoy having your chest stroked, and respond passionately to oral and manual manipulation of the nipples. Cancer’s fascination for moonlight and water makes a seaside outing, where you can hear the pounding of the ocean as you make love, the perfect choice for an erotic get- away. If a trip to the ocean is not feasible, playing a nature sounds machine in your bedroom can evoke many of the same feelings. The right atmosphere, replete with scented candles and aromatic massage oils usually does the trick. Deep down you long to be seduced and swept away on a wave of passion. Once awakened, your lusty libido will carry you and your partner to the heights of ecstatic pleasure. Cancer is a deeply private sign, and you need to feel safe before you reveal your- self. Nothing turns you off faster than a prospective partner who comes on too strong, or tries to push you into intimacy before you’re ready. You’re too sensitive and romantic to respond to a blunt sexual appeal. Even in a long-term union, you prefer the indirect approach, and rarely come right out and say you want sex. For you, a sense of physical and emotional well-being is a must. Without a partner who understands this, you’re likely to log a great deal of time inside your pesky crab shell.

Leo

Leo is the most ardent and attentive of bedmates, but you would rather be alone than involved with the wrong person. The royal lion is status conscious, and some- thing of a snob. You must be able to respect and admire the person you love, and your ideal partner is intelligent, dignified, and classy. More than anything, your lover must always remember who is number one, and act on this knowledge at all times. You’re a star in the bedroom, you know it, and want to be certain that your partner knows it too. The lion loves seduction and foreplay. For you, making love is an art form, and fulfilling your erotic fantasies is a major turn-on. Sensual, unhurried lovemaking in lavish comfort appeals to you more than grabbing a quickie before rushing off to the office. The back is Leo’s most sensitive area, and sweeping caresses over your back and spine sexually stimulate and excite you. You enjoy building anticipation for an erotic encounter by setting up the scene in advance. Sexy attire turns you on, as does dressing or undressing your partner. Although you usually prefer wooing or being wooed luxuriously (as befits your regal status), the freewheeling, spontaneous part of your love-nature is rejuvenated by unplanned moments. An occasional bit of impromptu, devil-may-care love- making can inflame your desires and keep your sex life fresh and new.

Virgo

You appreciate a bed partner who occasionally takes the lead and comes up with ways of making your sex life more exciting. The stomach area is very sensitive for Virgo; circular motion and gentle massages with the fingertips or tongue on your stomach area and around your belly button are guaranteed turn-ons. A provocative striptease also intrigues you, and can add a mood of delightful decadence to your lovemaking. Although the idea of trying new things such as sex toys may shock you at first, under the right circumstances they add a playful, slightly naughty aspect to your bedroom activities. With encouragement, your own hidden desires morph into a tempestuous passion. Inwardly, you may be shy and reserved, but a patient, thoughtful lover who draws out your controlled desires will be well rewarded. While bedroom drama doesn’t appeal to you, sexy role-playing fantasy games can be a major turn-on. You like variety and enjoy experimenting with different positions and techniques. After a grueling workday, an erotic massage with warm, naturally scented oils relaxes you and soothes your jangled nerves. Although you may need a little coaxing, your dormant passions ignite as you unwind. A true romantic, you enjoy courtship. You’re turned on by poetry, music, and dreamy moments of intimacy with your beloved. During a weekend getaway with your lover, your appetite for sensual pleasure is likely to erupt with passionate abandon. Leaving behind your practical day-to-day routines and going off for a change of scene with your partner revitalizes your love life. Even an impromptu overnight stay in a romantic setting can relieve stress and make you feel reborn.

Libra

A wise partner knows how to whet your appetite for lovemaking with subtle flirt- ing and mildly provocative suggestions. You get off on the sensual accoutrements of romance, such as sultry nightwear, silky sheets, and soft music. A few whispered words of desire speak volumes to you. Your lifelong fantasy of romantic courtship and ideal love inclines toward elegant sex, with nothing crude or tacky to offend your good taste and delicate sensibilities. Because you’re seeking perfection, you can create a bliss-filled fantasy in your mind that often seems more real than anything in the world around you. Your ideal lover discovers the details of your dream scenario and acts them out with you. Together you devise new ways of sharing and increasing your sensual pleasure. Since balance is important to you, you yearn for an intimate union with just the right degree of give and take. Making love helps you to feel complete, and you’re capable of putting your own needs on hold in order to please or accommodate your lover. Although there is little truly wild or abandoned in Libra’s nature, erotic teasing acts as an enticing turn-on that adds spice and heightens your sexual ecstasy. A sexy striptease, deep enticing kisses, and languid stroking with a feather raise your temperature to a fever pitch. The thought of using sex toys may shock you, but artfully employed they intensify your lovemaking. Your brain is your most sensitive erogenous zone, and talking about sex and reading erotic literature with your lover turns you on, as does trying the sexy stuff you’ve been reading about and discussing.

Scorpio

The red-hot sex drive and physical prowess of Scorpios is legendary. You posess a lusty libido, and thoroughly enjoy giving and receiving sensual pleasure. Any lover stepping into your lair had better be well prepared, because keeping up with you between the sheets is an absolute must. You require a lot of drama and emotional excitement in your love life; an intimate relationship that is too peaceful bores you. The scorpion’s fascination with sex in- spires numerous exotic fantasies of sultry seduction. Acting out these sexy scenarios with your bedmate is a guaranteed turn-on. Since Scorpio’s fantasies are often darkly erotic, a bit of mystery or a hint of danger whets your appetite and gets your motor humming. Something of an extremist by nature, you tend to equate lovemaking with power and control. With your lover in the role of obliging love slave, you revel in the ecstatic gratification of all your secret wishes and desires— and if your partner just happens to bring along sex toys and gadgets, so much the better. Scorpio responds to an uninhibited bed partner who entices with provocative verbal suggestions and teasing sexual games. Your sensuous nature makes any kind of massage an erotic experience for you. It can serve as arousing foreplay for steamy lovemaking, taking you to the very edge of intense sensual pleasure. How- ever, a loving, aromatic massage may also kindle your physical desire so strongly that you feel as though you can’t delay sexual gratification a moment longer. Since Scorpio is the most sexually charged of all zodiac signs, your nether regions are extremely sensitive. Any stimulation down below gets you incredibly aroused. Consequently, many a Scorpio bedroom massage has to be abandoned halfway though. 

Sagittarius

Sagittarians relish the thrill of the chase. Once a relationship starts settling down, the archer strives to keep things exciting. Above all, you want to have a good time with your beloved. Although you express your sexual feelings easily and passionately, when the sex is over you want to move on to something else. You’re not into twenty-four–hour togetherness, but you thoroughly enjoy doing interesting things with your partner, particularly outside in the open air. Sharing physical activities such as dancing or working out together gets you pumped up for lovemaking. You also enjoy sex “alfresco.” Under the stars, the boardwalk, or the bleachers, you’re turned on by the carefree abandon of following your impulses, wherever they may lead. Although disinterested in emotional game playing, you do enjoy being seduced by sexy attire and other exotic enhancements to sensual pleasure. Spicy sexual banter liberates your quick wit and increases your anticipation of the sensual delights to follow. Fooling around with sex toys and naughty novelties stirs your imagination and energizes your libido. Erotic bedroom fun is your ultimate turn-on, and seductive teasing and touching wakens your desire and heightens the ensuing ecstasy. Since Sagittarius is associated with the hips and thighs, light stroking of your inner thigh inflames all your erogenous zones. 

Capricorn

   Capricorns are inherently cautious and less likely to engage in casual sex than other signs. The more secure you feel in a relationship, the more likely you are to cast aside your inhibitions and follow the impulses of your sensuality. Your dis- taste for public displays of affection helps you keep your powerful libido under strict control outside the bedroom. Even in private, it may take some encouragement from your partner before you loosen up enough to follow your wildest carnal impulses. However, once you get going, your approach to lovemaking is lusty and straightforward. Although basically conventional, the goat enjoys being courted and coaxed. Nothing turns you on as fast as a well-staged seduction scene with all the traditional trimmings: sexy attire, silky sheets, dim lighting, music, candles, and a properly chilled bottle of bubbly. The intensity of Capricorn’s sex drive goes through cycles depending on workload and various mood swings. Your ideal lover senses your moods and intuits your shifting needs. The legs and especially the knees are very sensitive in Capricorn natives. Light stroking on the backs of your knees is guaranteed to stir your slumbering passions. During low periods, your partner may reawaken physical desire by trailing a large feather or bit of fur over your skin, especially in these ultra sensitive areas. Although you don’t normally require a lot of foreplay to get in the mood, you enjoy being caressed and pampered when you’re feeling stressed. An erotic mas- sage helps you relax and sets the stage for lovemaking. Where love and sex are concerned, goats cannot be rushed. Quickies don’t really satisfy you. You prefer taking it slow–and getting it right. Endurance is Capricorn’s forte. Once aroused, you can keep going all night long. You’re proud of your sexual prowess, and satisfying your bedmate’s needs and desires is as important to you as satisfying your own. 

Aquarius

   As befits an Air sign, Aquarians approach sex mentally as well as physically. Your bedroom antics are greatly enhanced when you’re able to share your thoughts and ideas with your lover. Your natural curiosity inclines toward creative ways between the sheets. A delicious eroticism lurks beneath the surface of your outwardly controlled manner, and the partner who is able to tap into it can look forward to good times in your bed. Physically you are strongly sexed and passionate. However, your mind is easily distracted, which can cause you to ignore the needs and desires of your body. When this happens, a few verbal reminders of the delights you are missing are all it takes to inflame your lusty libido. Because your mind and imagination are your major erotic zones, you respond as readily to spoken intentions as to physical stimulation. Since you enjoy a bit of fun mixed in with your lovemaking, you like being with a bedmate who amuses you. Stylized role-playing fantasies and sex games can add a touch of spice and glamour to your love life. Aquarius can be wildly passionate one night, yet seemingly disinterested the next. The romantic fantasy that got your sexual juices flowing last night may have the opposite effect today. Aquarians are generally freewheeling, open-minded, and sexually liberated. Yet, despite that touch of kinkiness in your makeup, you truly dislike outright vulgarity. Whereas hashing over your lustful intentions with your lover is a genuine turn-on, you’re turned off by really crude or raunchy behavior.

Pisces

Sex for you is a beautiful fantasy in which you merge and blend with your partner to become one soul. The lover who inflames your imagination is the one mostly to set your libido on fire. Just gazing into his or her eyes doesn’t quite do it for you. You crave romance with a capital R. A romantic getaway for two is often the first step toward making your erotic dreams reality. You respond enthusiastically to lovemaking in a dreamy location, preferably one on or near a body of water. It doesn’t really matter if it’s a luxurious cruise or a single night at Budget Beach. Even at home, nothing turns you on like a sensuous bath or a spa soak with your beloved. Afterward, you like being toweled dry and dusted with powder like a baby. The feet are Pisces’ major erogenous zone. Most enjoy having their feet held, bathed, stroked, and massaged, and toe sucking drives them into a sensual frenzy. Pisces’ sexual cravings can be somewhat unpredictable, and often encompass a wide range of erotic fantasies. Driven by emotions as well as physical desire, you crave a bit of drama in the boudoir. When you get bored you may yearn for a dream lover to come and whisk you off to some wild and exotic love nest. Barring this, you get off on the fun and excitement of fantasy-inspired sex games. The lover who is able to surprise you with something new or different in the bedroom will continue to hold your interest. You are particularly fond of little presents, especially if the gifts are seductive garments or sex toys designed to increase pleasure and excitement.

#turn offs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #libra #virgo #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #venus #mars #moon #venus in aries #venus in taurus #venus in gemini #venus in scorpio #venus in cancer #venus in leo #venus in virgo #venus in libra #venus in sagittarius #venus in capricorn #venus in aquarius #venus in pisces #all signs #turn ons of the signs

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Secrets Uncovered in the Firelight" - One-Shot

Summary: Nico and Will share their first kiss by the fire.

Word Count: 1238

Read on AO3

For a night in August, Nico finds that the temperature is a bit too chilly. The fire the pit tries its best to extend its warmth to him and Will, but its limbs are too short; the heat barely brushes against them. In a way, though, Nico supposes this is better - it means he and Will have to shuffle closer, and really, who could be upset with that?

No one else is at the campfire; since it’s August, the days have been a little freer, filled with the air of liberation. People have been sleeping and waking as they liked. Nico has taken advantage of this freedom.

Will taps his finger against Nico’s knee, sending zaps of electricity up Nico’s nerves with each touch. Neither of them are talking, but the air around them feels saturated with excitement, passion, chatter. Energy bursts in packets around them.

Will leans his head against Nico’s, closing his eyes and pulling an arm around the child of Hades’ body. Nico leans into his touch, finding more warmth against Will’s than any other source of heat around him.

Will sighs dramatically. Nico raises an eyebrow at him, but the blond does nothing except stare right back. Nico turns again to the fire, only to hear another sigh.

He smiles. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” A grin sweeps over Will’s mouth. “Okay, something.”

“What is it?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the light of my life? The syrup to my pancakes? The cream to my Oreos?”

Nico pulls a hand to Will’s mouth, stopping any other words before they can come from his mouth. “Do you want something from me?” he asks.

“Kind of. Maybe. Yes.” Will shifts into a sitting position, twisting his body towards Nico. In the firelight, Nico sees the pink explosion against his cheeks. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“Okay, so, we’re going to Tartarus soon,” Will says, his voice chipped with thorns of dread. At the mention of Tartarus, Nico’s heart skips a beat; his nerves scrunch up and burst open again, itching under his skin. He nods gravely.

“So, the thing is… not a lot of people get out of that often,” Will continues, grimacing. “Well, except for you, Percy, and Annabeth.”

“Where are you going with this?” Nico’s eyebrows knit together nervously.

Will tangles his fingers with Nico’s, the heat of his hands bleeding into the child of Hades. He leans his head towards Nico’s, and again Nico’s heart skips a beat, but this time it’s out of surprise, not fear. His blue eyes dance in the firelight, flaming with an intimate innocence. A small smile flickers against his face. “Well, you see… I’m just nervous that, as boyfriends, we may die never having our first kiss together.”

Something in Nico’s chest explodes; a warmth blooms from his core up to his head, trickling into every nerve in his body. “Okay,” he whispers, a blush spilling over his skin.

Will takes Nico’s hands and places them against his cheeks, squishing them nervously. The soft tan skin of Will’s face feels feverishly warm, bursting with excitement. “I… want to kiss you.” His smile slips across his cheeks, spreading wider. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Nico doesn’t know how to respond. The two of them are utterly alone in this moment, away from all prying eyes, marinating in their own affection. Will’s blond hair gleams in the firelight, flashing like the setting sun, and his skin glows from within, light pouring out from each and every corner of his body. His freckles stand out like seeds in a strawberry, offering him a softer look than usual.

And his lips. They’re burning in the firelight, standing out to Nico in ways he’s never noticed before. They look sweet and plump, like the juiciest of cherries, and out of nowhere Nico wants nothing more than to taste them, to taste him.

He just wants to be in Will’s embrace, in more ways than just his arms. He wants to be to be turned inside-out, to be opened up and examined from the darkness that swirls in him.

And only Will has the power to do that if they kiss.

Nico isn’t even hesitant in his answer: “Yes.”

Will blinks a few times, the glow of his blue irises flickering on and off as he does so. Then his smile widens, spreading to his ears, and the warmth of it spills into Nico, into his skin, infiltrates his nerves, contaminates his stomach. He’s falling sick - lovesick.

For a second, neither boy knows what to do. Who goes first? What will happen? Will something change? The possibilities are endless.

Then, to Will’s surprise, Nico leans in first. For a second, he’s dangling at the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to save him - and then Will catches his lips, and he’s being lifted into the air, escaping certain doom.

Will’s carrying him higher and higher, falling into his bloodstream, getting lost in his physical being. He’s spilling into Nico, pouring out all his burdens into his arms, and in turn he takes Nico’s own baggage. They’re holding each other up in a world where gravity is trying to push them down.

Nico’s fingers get lost into Will’s forest of curls, unable to find themselves out. His body curves into the blond’s, and there they sit, locked into each other, made for each other, finding each other. It’s a whole new quest, kissing Will - Nico’s finding out a lot more things about him than he’d ever thought he would. He likes to wear strawberry chapstick; his hands especially like to be around his waist; he likes to lean in when he’s kissing. Nico’s uncovering secret after secret, finding all the hidden depths to Will’s existence.

He wants to keep exploring, keep discovering, keep knowing. He’s never found so much about Will, and he’s liking it.

The kiss lasts mere seconds, but when they pull apart, Nico feels like he’s just ran a marathon. He’s never felt this exhilarated, despite having been through two wars and fighting a countless number of monsters. Kissing Will was a battle of its own kind - a battle of passion, a battle of affection.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nico notices the fire again. This time it’s burning high, burning bright, burning, burning, burning. It’s bright gold, pulsing with heat and excitement, and with a jolt, Nico realizes that only he and Will are here; the fire is reacting to their emotions.

Who knew two people could create such excitement?

A low sound echoes in Nico’s ears, and he realizes that Will’s laughing softly. “What?” he asks.

Will opens his eyes, and once again Nico’s drowning in the blue of them, suffocating in their beauty. Then Will leans in and hides against Nico’s neck, his arms circling around him in a tight embrace. “Nothing,” he whispers. “That was just fun.”

Nico huffs at his words, but his heart is still beating in his chest, etching to escape the jail of his ribcage. He shifts his arms so that they’re over Will’s shoulders, climbing behind his neck. Now he bends into Will’s own shoulder, and his blond curls brush against Nico’s cheek, haunting his face with anticipation.

They sit like that together for a long while, bathing in each other's warmth, basking in each other's glory. Falling deeper and deeper into one another.

#my writing #solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #will x nico #nico x will #rick riordan #riordanverse #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fic #will solace fanfic #will solace fic #nico di angelo fanfic #nico di angelo fic #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic #trials of apollo #toa #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #fluff

[warmest-oceans]

A Non-Paradoxical Moment of Accepting Oneself While Falling in Love with a Best Friend

Set in Phuket, a beautiful large island in southern Thailand, I Told Sunset About You already wins the Best Picture category. The island is magnificent on its own — blessed with emerald clear water, bed of white sand, quiet calm breeze, but the island also has the charm of its old town scenery. Every shot feels like it was shot in a new world. The combination of laid-back island life with culturally rich town is visually pleasing.

Aside from its excellent choice of set, the storyline is the true gem here. In the peaceful island of Phuket, we’re brought into the not-so-quiet lives of our two male protagonists, Teh (Billkin Assaratanakul) and Oh-aew (PP Amnuaydechkorn). From the start we know that these two best friends are about to be involved in something that’s bigger than themselves, something that’s uncontrollable and something that will change their lives forever.

It won’t be a 10/10 series if the actors can’t bring the golden storyline to live. The actors who play our male protagonists apparently have been friends since they were teenagers, making every scene they act on-screen believable. The chemistry can be seen clearly with a dash of improvisation here and there by the actors themselves and the magical direction by Boss Kuno, the director of the series.

I can’t really wrap up my introductory of the series without mentioning the amazing soundtrack and scoring. We only have three songs as soundtrack (with different versions) sung by our male protagonists, but the quality is top-notch, you’ll fall for it!

OK, I’m done with my introductory piece. Now, let me gush about this series. To me, I Told Sunset About You has become a coming-of-age story that left a permanent dent in my heart. It’s everything I ask for in a series; a beautiful set, excellent story, magical chemistry, and incredibly fitting soundtrack. Sadly, the series is almost always lumped into BL category, which I find insulting to the series to be honest.

Although I don’t identify myself as a part of LGBTQ+ community, I relate to the series more than I initially thought. Let me be honest, I am INVESTED in this series. Let me just write down the things that I think make this series is in a whole another league.

Self-acceptance in the middle of everything else

The series is great at delivering the moment of being a teenager who’s in the middle of self-discovery, starting to think about the future (the protagonists are in 12th grade), falling in love (hard) for the first time (on top of that, with your very own best friend!), seeking acceptance and validation, and trying to stay afloat at the same time. The topic seems to be nothing out of ordinary, but its ordinariness that brings up its own charm when it’s combined with excellent character development.

We all go through self-discovery and we all try to accept who we are when we’re teenagers — how crazy it was, restless, tiring, but also exhilarating it was. That’s why I think the series will resonate with most people.

I love how the process of the protagonists discovering and accepting themselves also answers the dilemma of falling in love with the best friend. Personally, I believe that I need to love myself first to love another person (note: if you want it to work and if you want the relationship to be a healthy one).

Thanks to this series I had a pleasure of reliving the experience of self-discovery and self-acceptance once again. No kidding, after I watched the series, I did a bit of self-reflection.

Impulsiveness

I think the first emotion that the series successfully portrayed is the impulsiveness of hot-blooded teens. I love how chaotic and erratic Teh and Oh-aew can be. One day they’re best friend, tomorrow? Who knows. Everything is a mess and everything is truly a collection of fleeting temporary moments.

Nobody in the series got their shit together and it’s supposed to be like that. Nobody figures out shit when they are in 12th grade. Everyone in the series is scattered, explosive, tortured, yet sensitive and delicate at the same time. It really reminds me of my own 12th grade moments!

Most of teens would act out of their gut reactions and that’s exactly what the characters do in this series. They’re not perfectly groomed and planned. So if you’re no longer in your teenage years or maybe if you’re in your 30s, you may find some of their actions to be silly and atrocious even. Tip: try to remember your teenage years. Try to remember all the stupid things you did in 12th grade. It helps you understand the characters.

Jealousy among friends is real and valid

I rarely see a show can realistically execute the side story of jealousy in friendship or even rivalry. Sometimes it’s too mean, sometimes it’s not even brought up (mostly being avoided in a story). I Told Sunset About You portrays jealousy in the most relatable way, through microexpressions. Through Oh-aew’s subtle glance at Teh and Ma or through Teh’s smile when talking to Oh-aew. Really, kudos to the whole team!

Naivety that leads to boldness

I think we can all agree that we’re much bolder when we’re younger, no? That’s because we have this naivety vested in us. Like trying to learn how to ride a bike for the first time, we don’t think much about the risk, we just want to have fun with the bike. We think adults will catch us when we fall anyway.

It’s another thing from the series that makes me fall in love with it. These flawed characters, probably in their 17 or 18, think that everything will be sorted out eventually. While, we adult know that most of the time, we clean our own mess. You’ll know what I’m talking about in episode 4.

Everyone got their own idea of first love

I think love is a complex, hard-to-understand feeling for everyone in every age, let alone for a bunch of 12th graders. Deeply impressed with how the series handles the tenderness and also the chaos of first love. How the series shows different outcomes of loving romantically for the first time is also admirable.

Teh stole my heart. At first, he was so certain about his feeling. He was calm, loving, and patient, the best you could be when you’re in love. But later when he’s in turmoil with himself, he becomes petty, awkward, and impulsive. He thought he loved, but turned out, it wasn’t even the kind of love he’d imagined.

I’m the main character

No character in this series is a filler. Everyone got their own dream and ambitions. Tarn, the female character isn’t just an obstacle between our protagonists. She’s a fully-developed character, an independent woman that works hard for her dream and a dynamic person. Bas, a male character, a good friend of Oh-aew has his own likings and dream. He’s good at some things. He acts on his own. Everyone is the main character in their own world and it’s evident in the series.

Symbolism and color theory

This wouldn’t be one of my favorite series without hidden meanings, symbolism, and color theory. Almost every scene and every material placement is intentional in this series. I won’t talk about it much because it’ll spoil the fun of you finding them.

Nostalgia

I had fun watching, crying, smiling, and laughing throughout the episodes the way they are. Aside from warmth and the feeling of awe, maybe the production crew doesn’t realize that it also makes me feeling nostalgic.

It reminds me of how futile and just fragile some of the moments from my youth were. They looked like big deals when I was in my 17, but now they are just dust. They really don’t matter in the next 5 years.

It reminds me of how insanely good falling in love felt like. It was intense yet tender, messy yet everything fell into pieces perfectly. The feeling that you want to give the person the world, but sometimes that world isn’t what the other person wants or needs. The feeling that you can almost do anything for this person. The suffocating feeling of not knowing what to do, but want to do everything for the other person. The liberating feeling of falling into the abyss. The feeling of surrender… completely.

The series makes me remember how exciting and scary it was when I realized I fell in love with one of my best friends, how confusing it was to even talk to him the next day after the realization. I just wanted to be with him ever since. Nobody could take that away from me and everything just didn’t make sense anymore in my head, just like how Teh and Oh-aew felt.

As you can see, I only have good words for the series. I hope, after watching the series, you’ll feel various emotions but hopefully… they’re all good and warm, because that’s how I felt. I also think that the production crew tried really hard to deliver a heartwarming series (please watch the documentaries/their behind the scene videos, it’s amazing!). I hope this series can be a newfound joy for you.

#itsay #i told sunset about you #itsay review #review #i told sunset about you review #bkpp #billkin #pp kritt