there is a knife on the nightstand

It’s A Meta Crisis!

Anon: Hi first off I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do supernatural story were the reader is obsessed with the show but one day she wakes up in the bunker and she finds out she’s Sam and Dean’s sister but starts to freak out and her ‘brothers’ thinks she may be sick or tries to calm her down. Sorry if that’s confusing <3

Nonnie, I need to apologize for taking so long to get this out, but I hope this was worth the wait. Like always, please message/leave something in my inbox with comments, questions, criticism, if you want to be tagged, etc. Enjoy everyone!

Summary: You are a Sister!Winchester writer and you wake up inside the Bunker one day.

Warnings: None (yes, I know the gif is a typewriter, but it’s hard to find good gifs!)

Tags: @the-third-winchester-warrior @winchesters-favorite-girl @jensen-jarpad @daughters-and-winsisters @lil-sister-winchester

Originally posted by mr-nikolo

“Aaaand, you’re done.” You say the final words of your newly written story aloud as you type them. You wrap your blanket bundle around you a little tighter and click the post button. “All right. You’re up for the whole world to see.” You sigh in relief, happier than ever to get this story out. School is about to start up, something you’re not looking forward to in any way, shape, or form.

You close your laptop slowly. You wish the magic of the holiday break didn’t have to end. The sleeping in, the bliss of not knowing what to do for a whole day, not being sure whether it was Monday or Friday. It was heaven.

You look at the clock. 11:08. Well, if you are going to get any sort of sleep for the early day tomorrow, now was as good a time as any to count sheep. You turn off your light and flop down on your bed. You don’t bother to change clothes or take off your shoes for that matter; you’d be wearing the same outfit to school the next day anyways, so why bother?

You turn your head to look around the sights of your room. A Supernatural poster from season 8 hangs on the far wall. Nearby that, you can see the different ‘hunting’ accessories you had collected over the years, scattered all around your bedroom. Some came from bygone Halloweens, others as holiday and birthday gifts. The old pocketknife with the Men of Letters symbol you carved into the handle, the iron sculpture you pilfered from a garage sale, your stashes of salt and homemade goofer dust, and the leather bag that you used for a hex bag in cosplay. A stack of plaid and flannel shirts sits piled under the poster. You’re particularly proud of the angel blade you had ‘forged’ from moldable plastic beads.

You smile, dreaming about your made up life of being the Winchester’s sister. It’s easier to gain story inspiration through dreaming fanfiction. Oh, the hunts, the magic, the creatures, the excitement, the strong sense of family. Every little aspect about it. Just, Sam, Dean, and you. Against the whole world…

Even before you wake up, you can sense something’s wrong. It’s cold. Colder than your room. You feel around for your blanket to pull up to your face. You freeze.

They’re not yours.

Your eyes open immediately. You sit up cautiously. Did I just get kidnapped? you wonder silently. A dark ceiling and plain walls meet your tired eyes that clearly do not belong to you.

You’re not in your bedroom anymore.

The walls are windowless, an odd bookshelf in the corner. Your eyes scan along the book titles: Mythology and Lore, The Official Book of Exorcisms, Shapeshifters vs. Skinwalkers Vol. 1. The entirety of the bookcase was covered with more scrolls and books like these.

“Okay…little creepy…” You glance around the room, suddenly feeling a sense of either paranoia or excitement. You’re not sure yet. The floor is made not of your soft brown-beige carpet, but a hard floor instead. The most off-putting thing is the smell; it’s a mix of air freshener and dust. Overall, pretty musty. Definitely not the smell of the scented candle at home.

Sounds are pretty much nonexistent. There was always some noise in your home. A passing car on the outside street, siblings arguing in the kitchen over who’s turn it was to use the toaster for Pop-Tarts, or the neighbor’s cat yowling in terror after being chased up a tree by a bullying squirrel.

You peer over the edge of a plain bed. There’s a large wooden chest with leather straps on it. Sort of a trunk really. You’ve never seen this before, but it’s familiar. You abruptly realize you have seen it before.

In your head.

Pieces of everything about this room fly together. The books on the shelf. The floor. The lack of windows and noise. The smell. Waking up in a different bed. Everything is how you’ve imagined it in your stories. You’ve pictured this room in your mind a thousand times, creating different story upon story in this setting.

This is the room you created for the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.

“That’s not possible…” Only one way for you to be sure. You rub your hands on the top of this mysterious box. If every other detail is right, then this would prove what was going on. Your eyes look down apprehensively, suddenly feeling a series of grooves on the lid of the trunk. You gasp aloud, trying everything to keep from screaming. A six-pointed star is burned into the top of the chest. A Star of Aquarius, better known to you as the symbol for the Men of Letters.

“Just like I wrote.” Your whole body is trembling. Jury’s still out on whether your shaking is from panic or happiness. You look down at yourself. You’re still in the same outfit you fell asleep in: black and white plaid shirt over a black tank top and ripped blue jeans. Your feet are still in the brown faux leather boots from Shopko. You’d tastefully nicknamed them your ‘Winchester Boots’. Little did you know that you’d actually be wearing them in the freaking Bunker.

You slap yourself. Ow. “Okay. Real. Not dreaming. I’m…in…the Bunker.” You turn around in place in a daze. A frightened happy smile stretches across your face. “I’m in the Bunker. The Bunker.”

You take a look at a wooden nightstand. You pull open the drawer cautiously, fearing what might be inside. Inside sits a knife, exactly like your knife in your bedroom. Your other bedroom The not Supernatural one. All the way down to the Men of Letters symbol carved inside. Which makes sense; you’ve based so much of your stories on yourself. Under that sits a small framed but faded photo. You immediately know who it should be, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You gently pick it up.

It’s happy photo of the little baby you sitting on your Dad’s shoulders. Not John Winchester’s shoulders. Your father. Riiight. The sister I created was adopted, not a Winchester by blood, you remind yourself. You stare intently at the picture, recalling the backstory you’d given your Win!sister.

A father turned into an encantado and the mom was a good friend of John Winchester so she teamed up with him in the hunting life. Y/N, became real close to Sam and Dean, helping out with research in her early years and later learning the trade. Teaming up wasn’t a constant thing, but enough to where the boys considered her their sister. John ended up killing Y/N’s dad when he showed up years later. Sam and Dean meeting up became less and less until it stopped completely when Y/N helped Sam get to Stanford. Contact resumed at Roadhouse with Ellen. Her mom died when the Gates of Hell were opened while Y/N was young. She’s been in Sam and Dean’s care since-

You’re cut off by a sudden, yet soft, knocking on the door. “Hey, Y/N.”

You know that mellow voice all too well. You gasp loudly and just barely manage to hold on the to the picture before it can shatter. Standing in front of the door is the freaking giant of a man Sam Winchester.

Originally posted by brothersinsync

He looks at you with mild concern. “You okay? Didn’t mean to scare you.” He finishes with a natural smile. “You didn’t answer your phone. Dean and I just finished one weird case. You’re gonna laugh your head off at this one.”

You back up into the side of bed, still not sure whether to be terrified or bouncing off the walls. You can barely hold onto your voice.



Your eyebrows shoot like rockets towards the ceiling. “Sam??”

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“Sam Winchester??”

Sam steps towards you. “Y/N, is something going on?”

“Sam freaking Winchester. In front of me.” You run your twitchy hands through your hair. “Oh gosh, this is happening. This is real. This-this-i-i-it’s. Holy mother flippin’ Metatron. You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam smiles unsure with a little laugh in his throat. “Y/N, you’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.”

You start gesturing frantically, as you usually did when you fangirled. “Yes yes yes yes, I know I know I know! This i-i-i-is. This is unbelievable. I mean, you’re right there and I’m right here in this room and-” You abruptly stop and take a look at Sam, who is slowly backing towards the exit. “I’ve gone meta, haven’t I?”

“Uh…Dean!” Sam shouts over his massive shoulder.


The distant reply of another voice you know hits your ears and a dorky grin stretches across your face. “Oh man, Dean’s here too. Oh boy. Oooookay…”

“C’mere for a sec!” Sam gives you a funny look. “Just…stay right here for a minute.”

You sit down on the bed, beyond happy to comply. “Okay!” Your energy level is off the charts.

Sam walks out of the room with a slightly faster pace than you expect. You hear his footsteps recede to where they’re undetectable. You get up off the bed, a whole new strength coursing through you; in your sudden excitement to see the Winchesters, you ignored the fact that not only are you in a different place, but you’re different too. Your body is roughly the same height, maybe a little taller. But you’re extremely fit now. You feel muscles bulging out of your arms, calves, and torso. It’s a whole new thing. You’re still around the same size as you were, but more of a body-builder version rather than a light exerciser.

You run your hands along the slightly bulging muscles in your upper arms. “Cool.” Your eyes sidle to an unopened closet. A new thought hatches in your mind. “I wonder…” You walk over and open the door, adrenaline and adventure filling your energetic body. You smile. Inside, behind the rack of clothing, is the set of weaponry you dreamt of always having. Shotguns and rifles and swords and pistols and ninja stars and salt rounds and-

You lay your eyes on the two weapons you crave the most: the Enochian carved angel blade from your I See Wings series and three sets of throwing knives you imagined: One for demons, one for creatures, one for witches. Each knife set was enchanted with spells you had found in the Bunker, designed with silver or iron or salt.

At least, that’s how you wrote it. You still hope it’s true.

You pry one out from it’s meticulously crafted case. Oh, the glory of holding one of those babies is indescribable. The black leather grip, the smoothness of the knife, the simplistic beauty of the curvature. You never knew how long you waited for this moment. And your new body is just begging you to try the knife out. You curl it back almost daintily, aim and…

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Before you can let your blade loose, Dean himself comes striding into your room. He’s on guard instantly when he sees you with the knife. “Woah, Y/N.” He rushes over to your side and grabs your wrist. “If you wanna throw, we’ve got the shooting range, not your room.”

You stare at him in utter shock, that goofy fangirl smile coming back onto your face. “Dean?” you whisper. Your eyes grow wide. “You’re…real…”

Dean knits his eyebrows together. He scoffs and sits you down on the bed by your shoulders. “Course I’m real. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can see Sam standing in the door, hesitant to come in the room. Your eyes flick rapidly between the two of them. “I’m-I’m really here? This isn’t some sort of…prank or-or joke or…” You look into the Winchester’s eyes, ever growing concern stretching across their faces. “I mean…you’re both real…” you breathe out.

Dean sets your throwing knife on the bed. “Y/N, are you high?” The seriousness in his voice throws you off guard.

“No! No, no, nope!” you yelp. “Definitely not high.” You scan around the room distractedly, trying to ground yourself on something. “Not high…definitely…not…”

“Uh-huh…” Dean clearly doesn’t believe you. He turns to Sam. “And you just found her like this?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on-”

“What was the last thing that happened to you?” you interrupt. If you can figure out what just happened to the boys, then maybe you can figure out how you got here.

Dean takes a breath. “Well, you wanted to stay and get some research done. We just got back from some weird ass musical about our lives.”

Season 10 episode 5, you immediately think. “So, you’re not a demon anymore and,” you point to Sam, “you just killed Calliope then, right?”

Sam squints at you. “How do you know that?”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” The expression on Dean’s face just melts your poor little fangirl heart. The concern, the honesty. Ugh.

“I…I don’t know. I just woke up here and…” You struggle to find the right words when a lightbulb goes off. You stand up off the bed. “Do you remember when Balthazar zapped you two to an alternate universe?”

Both Sam and Dean groan. “Damn, that was bad,” Dean complains.

“Well, think of this as a reverse one of those.” You grin sheepishly, standing awkwardly in the room as it dawns on the boys. Sam speaks up first.

“You mean…you’re from…”

“Not exactly.” You rub the back of your neck. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I write stories about the show Supernatural. Mostly about if Sam and Dean Winchester had a sister…” you fade out seeing as Dean’s head looks like it’s about to explode.

“Wait, you what??”

“In the show, it’s just…well, you two. But, I began writing my own stories imagining if you two had a sister. And I guess I’m having some kind of meta crisis right now, apparently. I woke up here in the world I created.”

“In the body of our sister.” Dean sounds more hostile towards you than before.

“Not exactly. It’s sort of a reverse Balthazar situation with a bit of Chuck mixed in.”

Sam looks the least freaked out out of everyone in the room. “Okay. So, you wrote about…us and if we had a sister? Why if?”

“In my life or universe or whatever, Y/N Winchester doesn’t exist except in the stories I write.” You take a look at Dean who looks like he could Hulk out on you. You raise your hands defensively. “I based her on me though. So, it’s not like I’m possessing her; I am her. Sort of.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You wrote her so you are her?”

“Pretend you rewrote the Lord of the Rings with you in them. But, you didn’t want to name yourself after you, so you came up with another name. Like…Jim. Then you find yourself in that story you wrote as Jim. But you based Jim off of you so it is you in it’s own way.”

“This is already making my brain sick.” Dean rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

“No, I get it. That makes sense.” You silently thank Sam for saving your bacon.

“The only question is how I got here. I literally went to sleep and woke up here. Nothing different than normal.”

“Okay…if you were writing this, as a story, what would you explain it as?”

You put a hand up to the back of your neck, a habit when you try to concentrate. “Well, if I was writing this, I’d probably be dealing with a spell of some kind, but nothing crazy happened to me last night. So,” you begin to pace, “that leaves me with…oh. Great.” You sigh and purse your lips together.


“Hex bags. I have one in my room.” The Winchesters continue to stare at you. You sigh. “Not a witch, it’s just for cosplay and Halloween. But, I didn’t sweep my room last night. Someone could’ve swapped it out for a real one.”

Dean tips his head up to the ceiling. “I freaking hate witches.”

“Well, it might not be a witch.”

“What do you mean?”

“A witch is only one idea. It might be a tulpa, or a really messed up spirit, or-” You stop, a new idea entering your head. You close your eyes. “Ah, crap.” You raise your hand in a ‘shut-up’ gesture, simply going over to a tv set in the corner of the room and turning it on.

Dean leans forward on the bed. “You gotta kidding me.”

“Perks of writing your own world. You get a pretty good hunch on who did it.” A Casa Erotica scene starts setting up.

Sam points to the screen. “But, he died.”

Originally posted by your-not-invisible-to-me

A very familiar waiter rips off his mustache. “Think again, boys. And girl.” Gabriel pops out through the tv screen landing in front of you and the Winchesters. A weird combination of a smile and an ‘exasperated-parent face’ hits your face. The archangel looks at you. “How do they do it on BBC?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you miss me?”

Taehyung and Jungkook Reaction to You Trying Running Away From Him After Finding Out He is in a Gang


B.A.P: Part IPart IIPart III ; BTS: Part IPart IIPart III; EXO: Part IPart IIPart III; Got7: {coming soon}; Monsta X: Part IPart IIPart III ; Dean: {Coming soon}


Keep reading

Struck By Lightning

Read it on AO3

By Maknatuna

Castiel gets struck by lightning. It has a weird effect on him and he’s forced to speak out his thoughts, feelings, and desires aloud.

Words: 7502, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

It was a stormy night. The wind was howling and the rain was pouring down like a raging ocean. Castiel was flying near the black, ominous clouds when thunder rumbled and rolled. Something flashed. It was a white, blinding light and the angel closed his eyes for a few seconds. Instantly he felt that something hit him and sent electric sparks through his body. Castiel lost his balance and plummeted down with a terrifying speed.

The Winchester brothers were staying in a small town called Hemingford, which is a little place nestled in Nebraska. There had recently been killings there, caused by a shape shifter, but the hunters already took care of that. They were still at the hotel and planned to leave in the morning.

It was 4 am and the brothers were in a deep sleep when something crashed down in their room, knocking the nightstand over and breaking a lamp.

“The hell?” Dean muttered, immediately sitting up in his bed and grabbing Ruby’s knife, which he hid under his pillow while he slept, just in case.

Keep reading

Just Deal with It-Ch 2-

Warning! This chapter deals with self-harm and attempted suicide, read at your own risk.
I also want to just make a little side note; there will be a “face reveal” for Flug and how I describe his face is just how I picture it. Alright, thanks! Enjoy!
Flug was tired of this. He was tired of the abuse. He was tired of the hits and the screams. He was tired of his shitty life. He just wanted to end.

That’s when he got the idea. He could end it. He had plenty of reasons why he wanted to and he had an entire laboratory full of weapons he could use. A sad grin made its way to Flug’s face as stood up from the bathroom floor and walked into his lab. Walking to the door, he slammed it shut and locked.

Flug gently walked over to his small bed that he had in the corner of his lab, which he barely used as Black Hat made him work without sleep constantly, and sat down. He needed to think about this carefully. How was he going to do this? Should he make a mess or try to go out as clean as possible?

He didn’t know. Sure throughout his life, he had been plenty depressed and full of anxiety, but this is the first time he really was going to do something this drastic.

Just then, a knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes widened thinking it might be Black Hat back for another round at him but his nerves were calmed as he heard the gentle scratches of 5.0.5.

Flug sighed and stood up and walked over to the door opening it. “Can I help you 5.0.5?” He asked peeking out the door. If he was going to miss anyone, it would probably be 5.0.5, he really was like a giant teddy bear.

5.0.5 gently tilted his head as he looked at Flug, he could sense something was wrong with him but he just figured that he was just tired, like always. 5.0.5 gently pointed at the clock showing Flug that it was dinner time.

Flug was honestly just about to say no to going to dinner, but he was afraid Black Hat might be mad at him for missing it so he reluctantly went. Though, with what he was planning, he didn’t’ have much of an appetite.

The two of them walked down the hall and entered the dining room where a long table that would normally sit about 30 people sat Black Hat and Demencia. Black Hat sitting at the head as always and Demencia on his right.

“There you two are,” Black Hat mumbled, “Took you long enough.”

“S-Sorry S-sir.” Flug stuttered out before walking to his normal seat on Black Hat’s left with 5.0.5 next to Demencia.

Black Hat only grunted and Flug looked down at his lap. He wanted to be unsure about the whole thing, he wanted to think that Black Hat would change and take Flug into his arms and tell him he was sorry, for everything.

But he couldn’t deny reality anymore. Flug was only Black Hat’s toy.

Once again he was snapped out of his thoughts as a plate was set in front of him with food on it. He gently picked up his fork and picked at his food. He really wasn’t hungry and even the little nibbles that he took made him feel sick.

“Something wrong Doctor?” Black Hat’s whisper made him look up. Black Hat looked at him with a neutral face but with a hint of gentleness in his eyes.

Flug shrugged and continued to pick at his food. “Not too hungry.” He mumbled back.

“Are you sure that’s-” Black Hat reached his hand out to place on Flug’s shoulder but Flug only flinched away making Black Hat slowly pull his hand away.

“I’m fine…” Flug insisted once again before shoving a large piece of meat into his mouth and swallowing it almost having to hold back any puke that may try to surface.

Black Hat was silent before going back to his own food leaving Flug with his thoughts. Flug was still having an inner debate whether he should do it or not but the side telling him to do it was winning. His eyes scanned his plate and noticed the untouched knife next to an empty glass of water he had been drinking. Glancing up at the others at the table, he felt relief as they were distracted before he quickly snatched the knife and slide it into his inner lab coat pocket.

“I-I think…I"m g-going to get b-back to work, s-sir.” Flug stuttered standing up taking his plate and walking away before anyone could get a word out.

He rushed to his room and slammed the door shut locking it. Taking the plate in his hands, he quickly threw it away into the trash and sat down on his bed. His hand trembled softly as he took the knife out of his pocket. He was going to do it. He was tired of the games. He was tired of Black Hat beating the shit out of him one minute then acting like he cared the next. He couldn’t take it anymore.

But if he was gonna die, he was gonna do things his way. He took a breath and stood up taking off his lab coat and folded it neatly. He set it down on his desk then walked back to his bed laying down. He took a deep breath and brought his hands up and took off his brown paper bag from his head.

It was an odd sensation, the air against his pale face, but he wasn’t going to back down now. He set his bag down on his nightstand and gently ran his hands over his face gently wincing as he felt the bruises and cuts from Black Hat’s beatings. His arms were also coated with bruises. His brown hair was a mess and his eyes were lifeless and looked gray.

He sighed and his arms fell to his sides. His hand quickly found the knife and he lifted his left wrist. He took a deep breath and lifted the blade to his skin and put pressure down cutting into the skin choking out as pain entered his system as blood started to flow out of the open cut on his wrist.

He couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes as he let out sobs and cried letting the blood flow from his wrist. He shakily put the knife in the other hand and did the same thing to his other hand before dropping the knife onto the floor. Sobs escaped his lips as he laid on his bed in his own blood before his world went dark.


Black Hat watched as Flug left. Something was up with him. More than usual. He understood that the scientist was full of anxiety and stress, but this looks like something more. And he was determined to find out what.

Was it him…? Black Hat bit his lip softly, he knew that he had been a little…rough…on Flug, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He was never good at holding his temper. Black Hat gently sighed and stood up walking into the kitchen putting his plate into the sink. He needed to talk to Flug.

He nodded to himself and made his way down to Flug’s lab and tried to push the door open only to find it locked.

“Flug?” Black Hat called out but got no answer. “Flug open the door.”

Black Hat tried the door once more before pressing his ear to the door and his eye widened hearing soft whimpers.

He quickly smashed the door open and he burst inside his eyes getting even wider as he saw Flug laying on his bed and in a pool of his own blood. “F-Flug!” Black Hat cried out and ran over. Flug was very pale and was only making weak noises letting Black Hat know he was still alive but almost dead.

Black Hat quickly looked around and grabbed some cloth and quickly wrapped them around Flug’s wrists to stop the bleeding. Then placing his hands on Flug’s wounds, he healed him leaving two scars in the cuts place.

Black Hat panted quietly and his hands shook softly. He then gently lifted up and picked Flug up taking him out of his lab and to Black Hat’s own room.

Black Hat changed Flug out of his bloody clothes and into something more comfortable before laying him down on his bed and crawling in with him holding him tight “Please…Don’t leave me.” Black Hat whispered before closing his eyes  

Flug wanted darkness. He wanted freedom from the pain. He thought he finally escaped. So why was he waking up?

His eyes gently fluttered open slightly before shooting open all the way. He gasped and sat up looking around. “No no no no no no no no…” He stuttered out looking down at his wrists and seeing healing scars. Why couldn’t things go his way for once?! Why couldn’t he just die!?

Tears filled his eyes as he let out sobs curling into a small ball before a voice snapped him to attention.

“Flug?” Black Hat asked sitting up and gently taking his wrists into his hands gently looking at the crying scientist. “Flug its okay, you’re okay.”

The scientist was only filled with rage as he yelled at Black Hat, tears in his eyes. “Why couldn’t you let me die?! Do you enjoy torturing me!? Y-You really are the evilest man in the world!” Flug sobbed.

Black Hat was taken back by this. He blinked and gently reached out to comfort Flug. “Flug…wh-” He was easily cut off by Flug slapping his hand away.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t your dare ask ‘What did I do?’ Cause you know exactly what you did!” Flug pulled off his shirt and Black Hat’s eyes widened. So many bruises… And he caused them all.

He was so wrapped up in making sure Flug was okay he didn’t notice the bruises.

“I-I"m sick and tired of the abuse! I-I’ve lived my entire life being abused and I"m drawing the line! I-I’m sick of it!” Flug shouted before he broke down curling into a ball and sobbing.

Black Hat was honestly disgusted…with himself.

He turned his smart little Flug into a suicidal mess. HE did this. It was HIS fault.

“Flug…” Black Hat whispered gently wrapped his arms around him. Flug struggled but Black Hat wouldn’t let go and only stroked his back and held his close shushing him.

“Flug…there is no excuse for what I’ve done…I’ve hurt the ONLY good thing that I allowed in my life…” He sighed and held Flug tighter. “I know I"m the worst with my temper…but that is no excuse for what I"ve done to you…Nothing will ever make it up…I didn’t want to be one of the monsters you were afraid of anymore….but instead, I only put more fear…I-I"m sorry…” Black Hat looked like he was about to cry himself.

Flug gently looked up at Black Hat as he spoke. More tears streamed down his face. Black Hat looked at him with soft eyes and kissed him softly rubbing his back and petting his hair. Flug gently kissed back and sniffed.

Flug didn’t have to 'Just Deal with It’ anymore.


Chapter 1

Patience and Apples

Summary: Mulder shows Scully the benefits of relaxing and patience.

Rating: NC-17, Light food sex, NSFW

Scully came out of the bedroom to find Mulder facing the sink in just his boxer briefs. “Humm, not bad.” She says under her breath.

Mulder jumps at the sound almost cutting his finger in the process. “Scully, give a guy some warning will you!”

She walks the rest of the way into the kitchen stopping just short of touching him and raises up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “You’re an FBI Agent. Shouldn’t you be a little more aware of your surroundings?”

Mulder shivers from her warm breath in his ear and what he believes are the tips of her nipples grazing his naked back. He gingerly places the knife and apple he was peeling on the counter and spins around to grasp her hips.

Scully is surprised by his sudden move but squeals in delight as he scoops her up and places her on the counter next to the stove. He looks at her flushed face and tousled hair. His eyes darken as they follow the column of her neck to her gaping robe. Scully is steadily watching his expression as it changes from joy to possessiveness to lust. It makes her mouth go dry and breathing shallow. One thing is for sure, Mulder’s single-mindedness is not lost on her body.

Mulder lowers his mouth to the curve of her neck and runs his tongue along her skin to the hollow of her throat, his hands sliding down to the loose tie of her robe. “Miss Scully, is this how you dress to entertain all your guests?

“No,” she breathes. “Just the special ones.”

The robe falls open to expose her naked body. “Fuck, Scully. How was I ever able to live without seeing you like this. You’re so beautiful.” His lips brush her collarbone and suck against her salty skin. He can feel her pulse quicken under his touch.

How did he get so lucky, he thinks as his hands skim inside her open robe and up to brush her taut nipples.

“Mulder, please.” She begs, rocking her hips to get closer to his body.

“Miss Scully, you sound desperate, wanton. Didn’t I service you just a few hours ago? I believe you screamed my name.”

She should be embarrassed, she should slap him for being so crude but instead she grabs at his shoulders and pulls him closer. She opens her legs wider and hooks her feet behind his hips. His cock is hard and straining against his underwear when it makes contact with her wet folds. “Aww!” She cries.

“Christ, Scully.” Are his last words as he captures her mouth and leans her back on the counter.

Their kiss is sloppy and frenzied. Lips, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance. Scully is using her toes to push his boxers down past his hips as he works his left hand under her back to draw her closer.

Scully is steadily rocking her pelvis against his, while she gropes at his body trying to bring him closer.

Mulder chuckles. “Scully, baby. Relax I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls her up to sit on the edge of the counter and slides his hands under her backside . He hoists her up and she yelps before tightening her arms and legs around his body.

Mulder reaches out and picks up the apple and knife from the counter and heads through her apartment towards the bedroom.

Scully barely registers his movements, lost in the skin of his neck. She is kissing and licking his body as he carries her to the bedroom. Once there Mulder lowers Scully on the bed and she scoots to the middle, only then seeing the apple in his hand.

Her eyes are dark, her chest is rapidly rising and falling and her skin is flushed with arousal. She pinches her brow, “Mulder, is this really a time for a snack?”

“Well Scully, in an effort to show you the benefits of relaxing and enjoying the ‘ride’ as it were, I thought I might tell you a story about apples.” A smirk plays across his face as he witnesses the highest eyebrow arch he has ever seen.

“Really, Mulder? Apples.” She sighs.

“Yep. Just hear me out, Scully. You won’t be disappointed.”

Mulder sits close to her body, his hip brushing hers. He picks up the apple and knife off the nightstand and begins slowly cutting a slice out of the fruit.

“Scully, did you know some apple tree varieties take 5 years to bare fruit?”

The apple is juicy and a drop lands on her shoulder. Mulder takes the slice and runs it along her parted lips before slipping it past his own. As he chews he leans down to kiss away the juice on her shoulder.

Scully shivers at the contact and her breath quickens. Mulder cuts another slice and this time a drop of juice lands in the hollow of her throat.

“Patience, Scully. Five years is a long time to wait for an apple.” This time he licks the liquid from her body and she moans.

“Can you imagine all of the things that happened to that tree in five years?” He whispers and eats the next slice. Mulder cuts another wedge from the fruit and several drops land on her right breast.

“Mulder.” She breathes

“Yes, Scully. So many things.” He leans in and begins to clean the juice off her skin as he continues his story. “Rain,” Lick “Wind,” Nip “Sun,” Suck “Snow.” Kiss

All those things were important to make the tree strong. “Slow and steady, Scully.” His tongue brushes across her hard nipple and she cries out grasping for his body to hold him in place.

Mulder pulls back. “No, no, relax. Let me finish.” His next slice causes a stream of liquid to run down her stomach and pool in her navel. Her back arches off the bed at the sensation. Mulder drags the piece he just cut down the trail the juice left and dips it into the pool at the end. He pops the fruit in his mouth and lets his tongue follow the line of the fruit.

“Scully,” Goosebumps raise on her skin and she lets out a shuddering breath. “All those things are important to, in the end, make a perfect apple. Sweet, juicy, tangy and tart.” Mulder cuts the core away and the last drops of juice slip into her light curls and down her folds.

Scully gasps at the feeling and Mulder drops the core and knife back in the bedside table. He moves down her body, chewing the last piece. He swallows and watches her hips roll and buck under his gaze.

“You see Scully, patience.” He licks the curve at her hip. “Savor the moment.” He moves to her other hip and gently nips her skin.

Scully is whimpering and begging to any deity that will help her. He moves his hands to spread her thighs. “Time made that apple, Scully” His thumbs part the folds.

He leans in to swipe his tongue along her opening.

She screams out and finally makes purchase on his hair. He chuckles and runs his tongue along her again, this time circling her clit. Just as she is relaxing into his touch, he pulls back.

“Slow,” he sucks her clit between his lips. “Steady,” he slides a finger into her body and pumps a steady rhythm.

Scully is so close. Her legs are trembling and she pulls his hair to keep him in place. Mulder adds a second finger and she’s gone.

Scully’s hips arch off the bed and her mouth opens in a silent scream. Mulder watches in fascination as she comes. This is a sight he will never tire of as long as he lives.

Scully lays boneless and he slips off the bed to remove his boxers. He is glad they have been at it hot and heavy the last few days, otherwise he would have probably lost it in the kitchen.

Scully opens one eye and sees Mulder leaning over her, his tongue poised to take her left nipple in his mouth. “Mulder.” She sighs, that was… was, well, God… I haven’t ever,”

“Scully, very eloquent words. Hits me right here.” He quips, patting his chest. “But if you don’t mind, I have a little something I’d like to take care of.”

“Just a little something, Mulder?” Scully questions and Mulder looks down at his rock hard dick and grins.

“Oh, Mulder,” she pouts, as she pulls him down on the bed, straddling his hips before sinking down on his length. “Let me tell you a story.”

meganwinchester1999  asked:

Hell yes, Kim! You deserve every one of your followers as you are absolutely amazing and a fucking fantastic fanfic writer. An early congrats is in order and for the Wincest fun how about a bit of knife play with the boys?

“Come on, Sammy. I need it.”

And Sam’s done for. He’ll give Dean anything he wants when he begs like that. Plus, Dean looks fucking gorgeous right now, spread out on the bed, creamy skin glowing from the effort it’s taking him to stay there while Sam is standing still, just watching.

Sam nods and brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

The look of relief of Dean’s face makes Sam’s chest tighten, and he wants to stop, wants to hug Dean instead, wants to hold him and make it all go away. But that isn’t going to make Dean feel better tonight.

So instead, he picks up the knife from the nightstand, flips it in his hands a couple of times for Dean to see.

“Where?” he asks.

Dean doesn’t  hesitate. “Anywhere.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Even here?” He presses the metal to Dean’s throat, sees the movement as Dean swallows hard.

“I trust you” is all Dean says.

“Even…here?” Sam drags the sharp point down Dean’s chest, not stopping until he’s past his stomach and pressing in on Dean’s dick.

Dean groans. “Fuck, Sam, yes. I trust you.”

Sam slides the knife around a bit more before deciding on Dean’s chest, right underneath his tattoo.

At the first scratch, Dean’s coming, letting all of the tension and fear and guilt flood out of him in a rush of blood and come that will leave him wrecked, leave him a gooey, sappy mess.

And Sam’s happy to do it, if it means Dean gets to feel a bit lighter for a while.

The End of All Things (A Preview for the upcoming Antisepticeye X Reader Series)

(( AN: Preview Cause Im Really Nervous 😂

Okay well this takes place way before the story starts and it’s kinda a tester and advice for how I write Anti cause I want it to be decent?

But I guess I can start getting some feedback and my other ones as well since I don’t plan on releasing any until October….

So let me know if you wanna see some NateMare, Gear or Dark previews as well :)

Cause I am way too far ahead in most of these series.

It’s kinda based on what I think these things are. A smol heads up 😬

And soooo this is gonna be nothing like the story… it’s kinda like a little trailer.

And yeah I misspelt things on purpose. Give it more of a child vibe and it’s also supposed to be taken kind of like you’re intruding.

At first, anyhow.    

So yeah! Sorry I am crazy about dramatic details and overuse of extreme detail!!

I would love to get some feedback!!! Both on my writing and the characters!  So lemme know what you think :D

And most importantly  @justwritingscibbles who is first of all, an extremely talented writer but also just a rad human being who agreed to give me feedback! So again, thank you so much!  So go check her blog out!!!

Sorry for the long A/N

And without further ado-))

E N J O Y  T H E  S H O W

Originally posted by lum1natrix

“Happy birthday!”

He chuckled bitterly, swinging himself into the room as he stared at the sleeping figure in darkness, tear stains still remain on her cheeks from the past two hours of sobbing before she fell into her slumber. He even mused how you still sniffled slightly as she turned as he twisted the blade in on his palm, not digging into the flesh but creating a small circle as he pondered his position and options.

So many times he had desired nothing more that slit her throat, deep enough so that you wouldn’t wake back up from the impact of the blade and would die in slumber, blood staining your bedsheet. Or perhaps he would drag it through your arm, cutting out the trace were he once held.

The other half of him, the half she had brought out, screamed at him to just hold you again, feel your flesh, warm and gentle and comfort her. Her to apologize. Beg. Hold him. Comfort. Turn away from your world and back at his with the same wonder you once held.

But he knew better.

It was over.

She didn’t need him.

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Mean (Dean x Reader)

Mean (Dean x Reader)
Hey everyone! This part of Gabrielle’s Challenge. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to leave a request or any feedback!

You could feel the emptiness.

Feel everything shifting, sliding apart like an iceberg breaking in half.

Where there had once been warmth and love and laughter, there was simply silence, cold eyes, and familiarity.

It wasn’t the familiarity that most couples strived for, remaining in love as their actions became habitual and comfortable. It wasn’t the familiarity that replaced an adventurous, wild love with a settled down stable relationship.

It was a poisonous one that hung in the air between the two of you, making room for unfair actions and hurtful words to be passed because you both knew you’d end up in the same bed at the end of the day.

You were familiar to him and he was familiar to you.

He always had you to come home to, and vice versa.

Falling in love with Dean had been a terrifying ride. It was a slippery slope, one filled with rocks and trees that left multiple battle wounds on your once unmarred heart. You had known what you were up against.

Being in love with Dean was scarier than anything you ever fought or dealt with as a hunter. You weren’t just fighting the world. You were fighting him too.

Fighting every bad thought he had about himself, every single thing he had gone through. You were constantly battling his habits, holding onto that beautiful man with bloody fingers.

While falling in love with Dean was like sliding down a mountain, being in love with Dean was like fighting an uphill battle.

You knew he was slipping away. It was why you had followed him to the bar, trailing after him to see what he was up to.

Sometimes he needed to get away, needed time to himself and you understood that. Anyone in this life needed some type of outlet.

The aching in your heart is what had kicked you into action. Over the past few months, his touches had become cold and quick instead of lingering and affectionate, almost like he was obligated to do it. No longer did call you when he saw something you’d like or when he heard a song that reminded him of you.

He used to burst out laughing at all the goofy things you’d do, making Sammy smile at seeing his brother so happy.

Now he just rolled his eyes and walked away.

You remembered a time where he was unable to keep his hands off of you. Undressing you with his eyes from across the room, that gorgeous smirk and mischievous twinkle in his eyes causing your heart to race.

It was just a deed now. A chore for him. Something he had to do, so it was done quickly and sloppily before he rolled over to his side of the bed, asleep in minutes.

Things had changed.

So here you sat. In the parking lot of some bar in the middle of God knows where. Your eyes followed the man you loved as he sat at the bar, that smile you adored so much curling his lips as he talked with a beautiful woman. You could feel a heart string snap when he threw his head back, laughing at whatever she had said. You could hear that laugh in your head, one that filled your veins with heat and made you smile. Now it just made you feel sick.

When his hand slid to her thigh, the unaware woman leaning into him, whispering something, you knew what was about to happen. You had seen that same look many times, but it had been directed towards you in the past.

You couldn’t be here anymore. You felt like you were suffocating.

You had known better.

You shook your head as you threw the truck, that you had thankfully held onto, into reverse, heading back to the hotel. There was no way in hell you’d be able to sit there and watch that woman climb into Baby. You weren’t about to let this ruin you.

The door to the motel room creaked open, Dean walking in quietly, probably in hopes that you weren’t still awake.

You had been sitting in a chair for the past couple hours, hands shaking slightly at what was coming. Your truck already had the few belongings you owned loaded into it, and you had slipped a note into Sammy’s room, telling him how much you loved him and would hopefully see him soon.

Dean was pulling his belt out of the loops from his jeans when he froze, hearing your voice.

“Was she any good?”

Before he said anything he sat at the edge of the bed, unlacing and pulling his boots off, eyes trained on the floor. “What’re you talking about, (Y/N)?” His voice was gruff and dismissive, ice seeping into your veins. “You know who I’m talking about Dean.” One thing that Dean had once loved about you was that you were stubborn, persistent, always ready to go toe-to-toe with him. Now he was resenting that characteristic. “I’m going to bed.” Once he started towards the bathroom, you stood up.

“You didn’t answer me.”

Something in Dean switched. His muscles tensed and he froze in the middle of the room. “I don’t need this.” He snarled at you, and you knew what it was lurking behind those words. Guilt. That was all the validation you had needed. But his words sparked a fire in you, and it had consumed everything. The calm you had worked so hard to keep had disappeared without a trace.

“You don’t need this?!?” The words came out in a roar. “I know you’ve gone through shit, Dean. But that doesn’t give you a hall pass to pretend like I’m just another one nightstand following you around!” Your voice shook with barely contained wrath, and he leveled you with a glare.

“I don’t have to pretend. That’s what you are.”

The words cut through you like a knife. “Excuse me?”

His emerald eyes were harder than the stone itself as he looked at you and for once you could feel your steel walls warping, melting under his stare.

“You were a mistake, (Y/N). I didn’t want things to be different because we live together. You’re not important to me. I can’t keep pretending you are.” His words were blunt, nearly knocking the air out of you. Your heart was crumbling, but you knew he was lying.

“Bullshit Dean. You can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me. Don’t you forget that I know you better than anyone in this whole damn world.” Your voice kept raising, arm gesturing wildly to the space around you. “You’re pushing me away for some reason. I know you! So don’t even try to pretend like I didn’t mean anything. Don’t even try.” Your voice cracked, traitorous tears dripping down your reddened cheeks.

You could see Dean breaking, his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw strong and pronounced. Silence filled the air for several minutes.

The bitter laugh that hit your ears surprised you, because it had come from your own mouth.

“So that’s it.”

You looked at the floor, shaking your head as you spoke the words before your eyes found his. His gaze was soft, betraying his physical stance. You could see it, his expression pleading with you.

Please don’t do this.

You did this. Congratulations Dean Winchester.” The smile that took your face was watery and broken. Normally you were so strong, but the emotional abuse had broken you down over those past few months.

You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t keep waking up, feeling him next to you, knowing he was really thousands of miles away.

“I love you more than anything. I always will. But you finally won. That-” your finger pointed in the direction of the door he had come through “-was it. I can’t keep letting you chip away at my heart. Sooner or later I’ll have nothing left.” The voice that had moments ago been filled with rage was soft, as if it was explaining something to a child.

It took everything in you to contain the sob that threatened to force its way out of your throat.

“Goodbye Dean.”

He didn’t stop you as you left the room, climbing into your truck, taking off in whatever direction seemed right.

Your knuckles were white as you gripped the wheel, glancing in the rear view mirror. He wasn’t there. You didn’t expect him to be.

You knew why you had stayed for so long. You were afraid to be alone. Both of you were. You had nowhere to go.

The only home you knew was still standing in the middle of that hotel room.
Sick Like Me - Part 1/20

Sick Like Me - Part 1

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: Since the teaser is doing so well and I’m a couple chapters ahead I thought I’d post part 1. There are a lot of warnings, so I would suggest popping over to AO3 to check them out. Since this is still a work in progress, I will update the tags as needed. What’s listed now is stuff that I know for a fact will happen in the story. Enjoy!

Originally posted by chloequinzel

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anonymous asked:

there's so many of these dialogue prompts that fit jaytim too well aaaaah!!! could you please write something for 19? or just pick one you like especially, i really like what you write!! <3

Ikr?! I really like that list, tbh :D

As for #19, sure! Thank you for your patience, I hope you like this - it’s totally been inspired by this beautiful pic by @tanekore

[Read on AO3]

The rhythmic tapping of fingers on his nightstand was not something Tim usually woke up to. He wasn’t even used to another person being in his room, yet someone was definitely sitting next to his bed. Probably staring at his back and noticing the little jerk he gave as he pulled the blanket around him tighter.

The fingers stopped to move and the room fell silent. No birds sang outside his window and no one was puttering around in the kitchen downstairs. The manor usually was quiet in the early morning, but this silence was different. This silence was thick, putting pressure on Tim in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

He didn’t want to turn. Didn’t want to look over his shoulder to see the person sitting by his bed.

Someone was there, but he didn’t feel them; the only reason he knew they were even in his room had been the tapping. A deliberate sound made by a person that could so easily vanish into nothing… Tim swallowed. Maybe it was just his brain playing tricks on him again. It wasn’t unusual.

Inhaling, he loosened his fists, letting the blanket slip through his fingers. He was just being paranoid. Just imagining things. If he turned back, he would see nothing that hadn’t been there yesterday, just his desk and the cluttered mess made of clothes and games and computer parts.

Tim counted to ten. Then to twenty. Finally, he opened his eyes but didn’t turn, not yet. He still needed to count to another ten or twenty to do that. Staring at the wall his bed faced, he strained his ears. But there really was nothing. Not anymore at least.

He was about to roll on his back when he heard it: a small intake of breath, just a moment before he heard the voice.

“Good morning, detective. I see the assassins failed again.”

With a choked scream, Tim whirled around, backing against the wall as he faced his visitor. The man was big, bigger than Tim and quite a few pounds heavier. His face was hidden by a mask, but his clothes were similar to the ones the assassins last night had worn. Ra’s assassins.

“You’re League,” he hissed, one of his hands fisting the blanket to his chest again.

The other hummed before cocking his head to the side. “In a way. I’m an associate of Talia’s.” Raising a hand to his mask, the man revealed his face. “And Bruce’s.”

Tim’s lungs refused to work. His eyes blinked fast to fight the sudden tears that threatened to spill. He was afraid. Very afraid. This man was dangerous for more than one reason; least of all his League training.


“Replacement.” Jason’s lips drew back into a parody of a smile, baring his teeth.

Tim looked around for a weapon, finding his situation way worse than he’d thought at first. His back was to the wall and his legs were still tangled in the sheets - and this was Jason. Jason Todd. The Robin Bruce had lost and the assassin that had come back years later as Talia’s champion.

“I never understood how Ra’s could be that fascinated with you,” Jason continued, his arms crossed over his chest. His voice seemed almost bored but his gaze stayed on Tim. Without looking away, he reached for something on the nightstand. Something Tim remembered with a sudden shock that settled in his stomach, hot and heavy like a melting stone.

Jason twirled the knife around his fingers, his smile growing lazy. A knife that seemed to belong into his hand, seemed to be more of an extension of his arm than a separate tool.

A knife that Tim had taken from the assassins earlier.

They jumped at the same time, Tim pushing himself off the wall while Jason dived from his chair. It was a close call, but Tim ducked under the swipe, barely keeping the knife from slitting his throat.

Retreating backward was no option and the blankets didn’t allow Tim to do more than tug his legs under him and roll over the mattress. He kicked the offending cloth away as soon as he had put some distance between them.

Jason’s eyes raked over him, his grin back full force when Tim realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.

“I’m… starting to get what he sees in you,” the assassin chuckled, but he raised his head to look at the ceiling. And… was he blushing?

Tim was stupefied. He didn’t move when Jason tugged his chin down to his chest in a jerky parody of a nod, never once looking back at him. The knife landed on the discarded blankets with a soft thud, shocking Tim out of his stupor.

“Hold onto this for me,” Jason said before leaving. “You might need it next time I’m coming for you.”

Magnetic Chapter 39: Enough

Dean Winchester x Reader

1300 Words

Story Summary: After your Dad was killed, you were shocked to learn all about his hidden life. Deciding to follow in his footsteps, you turn to a life of hunting, surprised at how well you adapted. Then comes along Sam and Dean Winchester, turning your life upside down. You and Dean don’t get along at first, but then things soon start to change.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Brigid glided about the room, taking one of the spare blankets and pillows, throwing them at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry there isn’t a bed for you, but you understand.”

“Yes Brigid.” You answered dutifully, even though you could feel her hold on you continue to slip. Instead of the utter conviction and love you had once felt for her, you were beginning to feel hatred. You wanted her away from Dean, and dead so she could no longer order anyone else around.

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anonymous asked:

Imagine request - Comforting Tyler after Trent turns on him

- “Ow ow shit!”
- Tyler’s yelps made you wince, as you handed him cold compresses for the angry red welts across his chest
- Just hours before, the man both of you had considered a very close friend, Trent Seven, had viciously attacked Tyler in the middle of the Progress ring, following the loss of their tag titles
- Tyler’s chest was covered in the angry red welts from knife edge chops, his back was bruised from chair shots, as his left arm was in a sling to brace his shoulder
- He was absolutely miserable, propped up on the many pillows of your bed, trying to put on a strong face
- You remained quiet, shuffling around the bedroom to make him comfortable, not knowing what to say to lighten the heavy mood
- He was staring a hole into the wall even as you set down some over the counter pain killers on the nightstand with a large bottle of water
- it wasn’t until you turned to leave that he spoke to you
- “Why would he do something like this?”
- his voice broke at the end of the statement, your heart breaking just little with it
- “I… I don’t know Tyler. I wish I did.”
- He took a shaky breath, wincing at the reminder of his bruised ribs
- “Can you just stay with me a little while? I don’t want to be alone.”
- You could feel your chin wobble and your eyes well with tears as you moved to sit next to him on the bed
- “I’ll stay as long as you need me to Tyler.”

Void - part 4

Series summary: Reader has lost her memory and Sam and Dean try to find a way to get her life back.

Summary, part 4: Fractions of the past and of hearts.

Characters/pairing: Reader x Dean (eventually), Sam, Crowley, Cas

Word count: ~1700 (Oh, a short one!)

Warnings: angst, mild language, fire, mentions of (past side) character deaths, tiny bits of fluff if you look really hard

Author’s note:  For catching up: part 1, part 2, part 3.

I know it’s short - I’m sorry! The rest are more lengthy, I promise!

There’s plenty of room on the taglist, so give me a shout if you want on it. :-) Tags at the end. As always, I’d like to hear what you think, so a line or two would be much appreciated!

This is where we left off (from part 3):

You heard your family’s screams, heard the baby crying but you couldn’t get to them. You felt the heat from the flames and the despair as you run out of the house you grew up in. It was like you lived it all over again, lost them all over again. You lifted your legs to the chair and hugged your knees, trying to hide from the pain. You heard mumbled words and chairs scraping the floor, but it was like you were under water. Everything else was distant. It was just you, all alone and more lost than ever.

You came slowly back to reality. There was a hand on your back, gently rubbing in circles. You tried to wipe the tears away, but you knew you’d still look puffy-eyed and flushed. You sat straighter and faced Dean. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his stubble with his left hand. His eyes glistened like he too had been crying and he looked just as sad as you felt.

“I’m sorry I punched you”, you blurted.

He looked surprised at first, but then smiled. “You still punch like a girl.”

No I don’t! you wanted to say but burst into desperate laugh instead. Dean joined you a few seconds later, eyes crinkling at the corners and your heart thudded. It was adorable. I think I’m adorable, Dean’s voice said in your head. Aren’t we cocky, you heard yourself answer. That made you laugh harder and it felt so good after the crying that you kept laughing much longer than necessary. Dean’s eyes twinkled when he looked at you.

“I’ve missed your laugh.”

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Stockholm Syndrome Ch. 2 // E2!Cisco (Reverb) x Reader

Read Part One

Request: Reverb smut, where he goes to like rob a bank or something and he notices you in the crowd, and he likes what he sees and he takes you with him (unwillingly) and he holds you as ransom, but you both end up starting to like each other and end up being intimate?
A/N: I decided to make this part two of Stockholm Syndrome because I felt like it fit really well! Hope that’s alright!

Warnings: E2 Cisco being (kinda really??) sweet again but like always with the dark side and rough smut duh

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Illya Request

Could you do a Illya x Reader where Illya likes her but doesn’t know how to tell her and later on a mission the reader gets tortured and very hurt (nearly dies) in front of Illya and later when she recovers all of the team is checking in on her, but mostly Illya bc he feels guilty? sorry I know that was a long request

“Peril, aren’t you Russians suppose to be tough,” Solo asked him as they got ready for the mission. Illya sent him a fierce look. “I’m asking because you seem like a nervous middle school boy who can’t even look at the girl he likes. Do the team, and your country, a favor and just tell Y/N you like her already.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Illya said with a stone cold look.

“Sure,” Napoleon scoffed, “but you should think about telling her, I mean if you did like her. In this line of work you never know what could happen.”

“Boys,” you greeted opening the door to the room they were in, “are you ready to go? We’ve got a mission to complete.”

“We’ll be out in one second,” Illya told you.

“See you at the car,” you smiled and left the room.

The plan was that Gabby and Solo would scale the building and search the top floor for the documents that Waverly tasked your group with finding. You and Illya were tasked with taking out the system and guards on the main level of the building. You got the security system down easily and accompanied Illya in taking out the agents on the floor.

With all the agents one the floor you and Illya smiled at each other, you had taken them all out. Suddenly a shrieking sound echoed through the first floor sending you on your knees clutching your ears- but it didn’t help. The last thing you saw was Illya struggling to walk towards you as he covered his ears.


When you came to there was a bright white light shining right in your eyes. You went to throw a hand up but found them chained to your side. You struggled but your feet and arms were bound on the table. “Y/N,” you looked up when you heard your name being called, it was Illya who was chained across from you. “Are you ok?”

“Illya, what happened?”

“I…I don’t know. There was this awful sound and we both passed out. I woke right before you”

“While you took out my guards I used one of my prototypes to take you out,” a man entered the room behind you so only Illya could see him.

“What do you want?” Illya’s jaw and fists were clenched. You looked at him worrying who it was and what was going on but Illya’s eyes were locked on the man.

“For starters, I want my documents back that your friends took. Other than that I just thought it fitting that since you took out so many of my men I take out two of your teams,” the snide man came into your view now as he stood between you and Illya. “So, where are my documents?”

“Go to hell,” you spat at him.

“Oh, feisty. I like it.”

“If you’re going to kill us just do it. We aren’t going to tell you where your documents are so get it over with.”

“If you insist,” he walked over to a tray and started picking up and looking at instruments. “And I guess I could start with you too; if you prefer Miss.”

Illya pulled and struggled against his restraints, “Don’t touch her,” he yelled.

“Oh,” the man said amused, “and why is that?”

“If you touch her I’ll kill you,” Illya told him, still trying to break free of his restraints. “And that’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”

“I find that hard to believe,” the man held eye contact with Illya and before either of you two could process anything he shoved a blade into your stomach. A small noise left your mouth at the sudden pain while Illya was yelling swears in English and Russian and struggling to break free. “See, what can you do about anything I do?”

“Hurt me as much as you want but don’t touch her,” Illya said through gritted teeth.

Blood was still pooling out of you even with the knife still in your stomach. A scalpel skidded up the fun length of your arm and Illya yelled again. Hours passed and over 10 things had been used to cut you open. Blood was pooling out of you and Illya’s voice was raw from yelling. There was a commotion upstairs that drew the man’s attention away from your as he broke another one of your fingers.

“Our team’s here,” Illya smirked. “And I’m about to keep my promise to you.”

“You might but first,” he turned and pulled the long knife out of your side causing too much blood to seep out of you.

“NO!” You heard Illya yelled. “Y/N,” he called as you felt your eyes flutter open and closed, “please, stay with me.” You were starting to lose consciousness. “Y/N, listen to my voice. Stay awake, Y/N, please,” he pleaded. “I can’t lose you, stay with me.”

“I’m sorry, Ill,” you said dully and slipped into darkness.


Your eyes sprang open and you were met by the uncomfortable feeling of a breathing tube. You slowly lead your hands to it and pulled it out of you. You pressed the button by your bed and a nurse and doctor were in immediately. “Ms. Y/L/N, how are you feeling?”


“Do you remember what happened?” You nodded.

“Where’s my team?”

“It’s past visiting hours, Ms. Y/L/N,” the nurse spoke this time.

“I need them. Please,” you pleaded and the looked at each other before the doctor nodded.

“I’ll call them right after I check up on you.”


“Y/N,” Illya bursted through the door and went right to your side, crotching. “Are you ok?How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better but I’m ok.”

“You’re a tough one to kill, Y/N, I’ll give you that,” Solo said entering the room with Gabby.

“We got this for you,” she smiled and put a large teddybear on your nightstand.

“I love it,” you grinned, “thank you.” You laughed at their sad smiles. “Guys, stop acting like I’m dying. I’m awake, a little beaten up but I’m awake and alive.”

“Do you remember anything,” Gabby asked.

“I remember everything up until he pulled the knife out of my stomach, after that I blacked out. What happened?”

“We took care of him. That’s all that’s important,” Illya said sternly, more to Napoleon and Gabby than to you. After a little small talk you found yourself drifting back to sleep.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Gabby stood up, “You need your rest.”


When you woke up again the stun was up and there was already someone in your room- Illya. “Hey,” you said and he jumped towards you in his chair.

“Hello. Do you need anything?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I’m ok. Are you ok?”

He looked at you shocked. “I am fine, Y/N. Why?”

“Not physically, I mean in general. You seem…on edge about something.” He took a second to gather his thoughts and you saw the wheels turn in his mind.

“I feel…bad, guilty, about what happened.”

“Il, why? You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. I didn’t do anything and I should have. You almost died because I didn’t do anything.”

“Illya, you were strapped down to a table. It’s not that you didn’t do anything, it’s that you couldn’t. If you beat yourself up over not being able to do anything then I’ll do the same.”

“That makes no sense you were the one-”

“See, it doesn’t make sense. So stop blaming yourself.”

“I just…I don’t know what I would do if you died and I had to watch it,” he admitted.

“I can’t promise that you won’t see me like that again but I can promise that no matter what happens I will always fight to get back to you.”

He took your hand in his and kissed it, “And I’ll always fight to save you.”

Not Bothering To Notice

Originally posted by connorscobalt

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: 18 and 52 with Bellamy Blake? from this prompt list

Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You have no right to say that!”

A/N: This imagine sucks, im sorry. theres a message at the end. This is my sory excuse to write angst btw

Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked Bellamy, confused. Right now, he was looking at you with a tinge of disgust on his face. You couldn’t understand why as you were just doing your job, sorting out the different types of berries into their respected baskets.

“Because you disgust me,” He said with venom laced in his words. His response took you off guard.


Keep reading

The Last Love Song

A/N: Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Angst (Dean x Reader)

We were never the marrying type,
Oh no,
We won’t buy dishes, or stained glass lights,
Oh no,
For a table we’ll never sit at,
In a house that we won’t ever get

“Y/n/n, don’t do this! Please, don’t do this.” The tears started to fill up in Dean’s eyes as he grabbed my arms.

“It’s better this way, Dean. We’re hunters. Hunter’s don’t get happy endings. They get shot.” I tried to spat, but it came out almost weak.

“Y/n, please just think about this!” Dean tried to reason with me

Keep reading

Children of the Gods: Chapter 5

<< Previous Chapter || Next Chapter >>

Word count: 3k

Genre: Greek Myth AU

Characters: BTS + EXO + Reader

A/N: Oh look. I’m fancy and I put an authors note~ Hehehe. JK I always do. I just labeled it this time. Anyways I hope you enjoy the newest chapter. I’m currently writing chapter 8 and let me tell you guys the story as gotten so great I can’t even stop writing sometimes. Love ya.


“I’m sorry. What the hell did you just say?” The sound of Hoseok’s voice had nearly startled you. The entire room sat in silence after Suho had made his speech. He wanted you guys to join him? Join him how? That stupid little camp he talked about back on the dock?

“Ok look, you two are sons of Apollo right?” he gestured towards Jimin and Hoseok as he spoke to them. “Apollo has joined Poseidon in this fight. It’s only right that you stand with your parent on the side he supports. I’m building an army I need all the warriors I can get so before Zeus’ side even has the chance to think about winning we can attack. You owe this much to your parent boys.”

“Who the fuck cares if we support our godly parent?” It was your voice this time that cut through the silence. “What have they ever done for us other than provide the second half for us to be born? When have they ever come to help us. Give us words of encouragement during our training? Not everyone gets a chance to have a parent that pays attention to them golden boy.” You spat the last part of your sentence at him like there was dirt in your mouth. Being the son of Poseidon this asshole would never know what it would be like to grow up without a parent. Having your mother taken away from you and your godly father never even acknowledging your existence.

Uncertainty flashed in his eyes, probably not realizing that he should have thought of that before hand. You smirked as you stared at him, your eyes never shifting away. You had to stand your ground in anyway you could, there was no way you were teaming up with this prick.

“We’ll join you.” your blood turned into ice and your eyes widened. “I will join you.” Hoseok put emphasis on “I” as he spoke once again, shaking you to the core. “I will join you and in turn if they decide against it you will not harm any of them. You will let them go.” What was he doing? He couldn’t join them. He promised to run away with you and Yixing, he promised to protect you and he was abandoning you to do the thing the three of you never wanted to do in the first place.

“I’ll join too.” Jimin’s voice was quiet as he spoke, his head hanging low. No. They can’t leave you. Your body began to shake, the reality of what was happening right now weighed you down and you couldn’t even speak.

“Fair enough. We will be taking him in with us. Something has to be done about his shoulder and quickly.” Suho’s voice was more of a muffle to you near the end. Your world faded away from you and you could hear Hoseok talk again about your mind did not register the words. They were all leaving you now, your worst fear was becoming a reality and there was nothing you could do about it.

“No.” a sob broke out of you and your turned your eyes to Hoseok, pleading for him to understand. “No. You can’t leave me. You can’t leave me alone. You promised Hoseok.”

“I know I did.” he wouldn’t look at you, his eyes stared ahead down the hallway as he spoke. The clarity that flooded your mind afterwards was revolutionary for you. Everything made sense to you now, you had to stand for yourself. You couldn’t always rely on Hoseok to be there for you when you needed him, there were times when you were going to have to be there for yourself.

“I’m joining too.”

There wasn’t much after that, all four of you had been swept up and blindfolded. You had sat for ages outside of the apartment buildings and thankfully Suho was the one who had offered you an extra pair of pants. Seeing as though you were blindfolded the struggle to pull the pants on was a lot more complicated than you would have thought. Suho had gotten impatient and pulled the pants up your legs making you jerk away from him and collapse onto the couch once again.

Your bare feet were aching by the time you heard a vehicle pulled up, the gravel of the road digging into the sensitive skin on your feet. You were promptly shoved into what you assumed to be a large van because everyone then climbed in afterwards.

The ride was long and as much as you had tried to fight it your exhaustion took over. You struggled with yourself, prying your eyes open and even digging your nails into your hands to keep you awake. The hours of lost sleep caught up and dragged you into the depths. The only thing you needed right now was for your body to rest and heal.

The next time you woke up the sun was shining right into your face, the light providing a nice warmth that had you humming in delight. You curled up under your covers as you pulled the blankets up closer to your face. You didn’t want to wake up, your entire body was sore and you were definitely not a morning person right now. You listened closely, waiting to hear some sign of life.

“If you’re awake you should probably get out of bed.” your eyes shot open and you stared wide eyed at the body where the voice had quietly drifted from. There in front of you was Suho, comfortably leaning over onto your bed from his chair, holding his head up with his hands. “Morning.”

You jerked back, your muscles tensing up as you shot up into a sitting position. How the hell could you have forgotten what happened? Where the hell were you? Your eyes started scanning the room, taking in your environment and quickly formulating a plan.

“No point in trying to leave. Your leg is still in a pretty bad shape. Our healers worked on it all day yesterday. The muscle was torn pretty badly with that slice. I don’t know how the hell you were even moving around on that leg.”

“I can hold my own thank you.” your narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he reclined in his chair that sat next to your bed.

You were in a small cabin, six beds lining the wall in a straight row. Each one with it’s own nightstand and it’s own locker next to it. Across on the opposite wall were two doors that most likely led to a closet or a bathroom. You turned your attention back to Suho.

“Where is-”

“They’re at breakfast. You know that’s like the only thing you say to me that doesn’t actually have a curse word in it. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to not use such foul language?” you rolled your eyes at the lame attempt to joke.

“What the hell do you want?”

“I’m here to take you to breakfast but it seems to me like you would rather sleep so go right ahead. I will head to breakfast myself.” he stood up from his chair and started making his way out of the cabin.

You shook your head and laid back down in the bed and smiled as the sheets fluttered around you for a brief second. You were so glad to finally be alone with your thoughts. Flashes of last night crossed your mind as you laid there, thinking about the situation you had been forced into.

Never had you been away from Hoseok or Yixing before. They were your family and you cared about them the most but they had all so easily decided to leave you. There was no way you were not going to follow them. Hoseok may have been fine breaking his promise with you but you had to protect Yixing. You were not going to break your promise to him when he had no say as to whether he came or not.

You shut your eyes once again, thinking through how you were going to survive all of this. It wasn’t like you knew where you were so you couldn’t run away. Then again maybe you could run away, it wasn’t that hard for you to survive for a bit before finding a place you and Yixing could stay. Maybe you could even convince Hoseok and Jimin to change their minds.

Wait. What the hell were you doing? You shot up out of bed the best your leg allowed you and pushed the blankets away from you. You had to admit your leg felt better but you could still feel the pain when you worked your muscle. You glanced around the room again, eyeing all of the beds. Why the hell were you just laying in bed when you could be using this alone time to find something, any weapon. Even if it was a butter knife. You quickly weaved your way through the bed, checking the lockers and nightstands next to the beds.

They were all empty except for one. You stood at the very last bed and peered into the locker, an assortment of large plain t-shirts hung up along the bar that made a closet. On the very end, leather armor that was significantly smaller that the t-shirts. You assumed it must have been to form the person’s body instead of hanging loose on them.

Upon further inspection you saw that it was definitely male armor. Female armor was cut differently to allow access for breasts to sit comfortable in the tight hard leather. You remembered your own set of armor back at the academy, it made you look like some avenging warrior or something and you hated it.

Glancing down you saw the assortment of colognes lining the bottom and you bent down to see if there was something behind them. Nope. Just more colognes. You closed the top part of the locker and opened up the bottom. Bingo. There sitting neatly at the bottom of the locker was a long dagger, the hilt of the dagger decorated with ornate jewels.

“Mind if I ask what the hell you are doing going through my locker?” you immediately acted on reflex, grabbing the dagger and spinning, slicing upwards as you heard the last of the sentence being spoken. Your slice stopped abruptly, a tight grip catching your wrist and yanking you up. You screamed as your body was flung onto the bed, your hand releasing the dagger as it was twisted in a hard grasp. Just as quick as it happened it stopped.

You groaned and pulled your wrist to your chest cradling it in your other hand as your eyes drifted towards the voice. Was this a dream or something? You stared straight into large deep brown eyes that were attached to a face that was honestly just as pretty. The boy’s set jawline and this slightly messy hair that fell over his forehead made him seem ageless; like a young boy but at the same time he looked like he could be in his late twenties. What even was this guy?

“Sorry.” you didn’t risk saying anything else as you stood up and moved to make your way back to your own bed. You grew annoyed as the boy stayed firm in his spot, your face mere inches away from him. Your eyes refused to meet his as you stood there, your eyes falling on his collarbones instead. The collar of his large t-shirt swooped down to reveal his very defined and very prominent collar bones. “Can I please get by.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” you were growing impatient now and finally looked into those eyes. Hell why did he have such nice eyes?

“I was looking for a weapon that I could use to kill whoever gets in my way.” you narrowed your eyes at him. Would he move now? You adjusted your stance to seem more intimidating, balling up your fist and lowering your arms by your side, meeting his stare head on with an icy one of your own.

His eyes raked down your body and stopped at your leg, blatantly staring at the silver scar that marked your wound right below the edge of the shorts you were in. His eyes traveled back up your body till he was locking eyes with you again, the ghost of a smirk forming on his lips.

“Tell you what.” you flinched when he leaned closer, his body tilting sideways a little and his head adjusting to keep staring at you. “You can take this if you follow my advice.” the dagger came into your line of sight, the hilt pointed at you as his long fingers wrapped delicately around the blade.

“What’s the advice?”

“Wear pants from now on. You wouldn’t want your enemies to see your weakness.” He slowly stretched his arm out a fraction, offering you the dagger “Go on. I have plenty more to defend myself with if I decide to get in your way again.”

You rolled your eyes as you took the dagger from him, carefully drawing it from his hand as not to hurt him. He stood there a second longer before stepping to the side, giving you room to squeeze past him from between the two beds. Your feet carried you back to your bed as you clutched onto the dagger. This weapon was your life line now and you needed it desperately. It was the only thing that would get you out of this place.

“You have a nice technique. A strong form too.” his voice rang out in the cabin again, the soft timber of his voice flooding your ears and making goosebumps form on your arms and legs. “Your friends said they would bring you back some breakfast so you wouldn’t have to get up. They were talking about how well your leg might be doing. Now I guess I know what they were talking about. Surprised you were able to move that fast with an injury like that.”

“I was trained well.” it wasn’t a lie. You were trained well. You were given the best instructors of the academy as private tutors as well as attended all the normal classes so you didn’t stand out. You didn’t want people pegging you as special, that would only bring attention and you would rather hide in the dark recesses of a corner. The only thing that irked you was that he was obviously trained better. He was stronger and faster than you, it didn’t seem like it took any effort to stop you at all when he had grabbed your wrist. This guy was someone you were going to have to watch out for.

“Guess who brought breakfast!” you jumped as the door to your cabin burst open and your two weirdly energetic friends stormed in. Jimin made his way to you first, his smile stretched across his face and causing his eyes to form little crescent shapes and his already puffy cheeks to puff out more. “Thank the gods you’re awake! You were out all day yesterday!”.

“Good morning Jimin.” your returned his smile as you took the plate of food out of Hoseok’s hands.

“Hey. You feeling any better? How’s the leg?” Hoseok sat at the foot of the bed and you quickly cast your eyes away from him as he asked the questions.

“Fine.” You quickly shoved the piece of bacon into your mouth as an excuse to not have to talk anymore. You were still mad at him and you were determined to let him know it. You shifted your weight and pulled the blankets over your legs before continuing to eat, the cabin now falling in silence.

The food was wonderful. You hadn’t had such a nice piece of bacon before, the thin almost tasteless strip at the academy being the only bacon you had eaten in ages. The rest of the food mirrored the bacon in it’s deliciousness; was deliciousness even a word? You would have to worry about that later. If this place gave you food like this everyday then maybe you could stretch your stay a little longer to enjoy the simple luxury.

“You certainly look better.” You looked up at Jimin when he spoke, seeing him wiggle his way out of his tennis shoes and sliding into the bed, lifting the blanket up and laying it in your lap as he had done during the days he was at the academy with you.

Jimin’s bed back then was your bed and your bed was Jimin’s bed. You two were practically inseparable when you were little. You would always hide under your blankets late at night and whisper to each other about things little kids always whispered about. It was so late however that you two would eventually just end up passing out in the same bed, your heads at the foot of the bed and the sheets covering both of you completely.

“Yeah I feel better. My leg doesn’t hurt as much either so whatever they did to it yesterday must have really worked. I can walk normally now at least.” Jimin’s giggle brought your own bubbling up in your chest. You had to admit that there wasn’t anyone you had missed more in your entire life than Jimin.

“Don’t worry I’m sure you will be back to kicking asses in no time.” you actually did laugh at that. It was funny how easily you could just be with Jimin. You were guarded other times around everyone else except Hoseok and Yixing. But even with those two you had a sense of worry, a sense of fear that you could lose them. Jimin just seemed to you like someone who would never leave. Until he actually did.

You both fell silent as a figure passed through your vision. You looked up towards the door in time to see the other boy leaving the cabin, closing the door behind him quietly as he made his leave. One thing you noticed that you didn’t seem to catch before, the guy moved so quietly it was like he was walking on air.

“Ahhhh. I see you have already met Jungkook then.”


“Yeah Jeon Jungkook. Apparently, according to some at breakfast, the son of Ares.” Ares? Hell… that would explain his skill before. Alright. Jeon Jungkook, son of Ares, you officially made it on my radar.

pheaphilus  asked:

Saw your post about the dream pack!! Want to share any headcanons? I'm in withdrawal from the trashcan boys.

Sorry for taking so long to reply, but I got a little carried away, haha. I love my trash children.

Our man Joey K doesn’t actually speak Bulgarian and he understands only half the lyrics of his shitty rap songs, but something about the rhythm and the harsh vowels resonates in the rattling cage of his chest.

He is the shortest of the gang save for Skov who is half an inch shorter, but it’s enough to soothe Kavinsky’s fragile ego. He calls them wolves and bites on their earlobes, fingers, collarbones. Reminders of who they belong to. Kavinsky has black hair and brown eyes, long curled eyelashes, moles scattered on his pale skin. His nose is crooked from one too many punches.

The savage glint in his eyes is the only thing left alive of a sober K. His skin turns gray and clammy, in stark contrast with his collection of bruises and cuts. The worst part is his dreams. If he dreams when he’s sober, he sees Proko, eyes glinting like a dead fish. A night horror picking at Ronan’s carcass. Worst of all, him, in a mirror. His father’s eyes staring back. K doesn’t take off his sunglasses for a week straight after that one.


K took one look at tall and lanky Prokopenko with dirty blonde hair wearing a white tracksuit and a lopsided smile and thought, I’m keeping this one.

Kavinsky dreamed up a Polaroid camera that never runs out of film, and it’s Prokopenko’s favorite dream thing, he’s always taking photos of the pack. K pretends to be annoyed, but he steals some photos every now and then.

Kavinsky did kill him, but it wasn’t on purpose. They were shooting empty bottles at the fairground at dawn and K wanted to feel the weight of the gun in his mouth, so Prokopenko tried to wrestle it out of his hands. Not a smart one, that boy. Kavinsky watched the blood flow in slow motion like a flower blooming from Prokopenko’s guts.

Proko has sectoral heterochromia, and it’s a pain in the ass for K to replicate. After the tenth failed attempt, he digs through the stack of polaroids in his nightstand and finds one where Proko is staring at the camera and sticking out his pierced tongue. He uses that one as reference for his favorite forgery.


Jiang does all the proper tattoos like a fucking artist, but they give each other shitty stick and pokes all the time. Kavinsky puts a little K on everyone’s ankle because he’s possessive like that. This is what the gang gives K: a knife from Jiang on the side of his middle finger, a smiley face from Proko on his navel (he likes to leave hickeys there as well), what seems to be a wheel from Skov on his right shoulder. Swan just writes “alpha” in cursive between his shoulder blades.

Unrelated, but I like to think of Jiang with some sort of magical power. Like he’s the one who gave Ronan his tattoo and it shifts and changes to show the bearer’s soul

Jiang is just really into knives. Nobody knows where he keeps them on himself, but he’s always flipping one. He’s not above getting his hands dirty for K and he always goes for maximum damage with minimal effort. He is as sharp as his weapons and he looks the part, always dressed in monochrome. Has a septum piercing and a bar in his right ear. He might not talk much, but he knows how to cut you down with a few choice words.


Skov is my beautiful nonbinary child. Can never settle on a hair color but this week it’s teal. Swan does his undercut and he loves the feeling of freshly buzzed hair. Only ever wears a tragus piercing, but has both earlobes pierced. Very into platonic makeouts. The youngest of the gang, Kavinsky taught him to drive (what a shit teacher) and dreamed him up the rx-7 because Skov saw it in a catalog and just had to have it. The only one who goes to public high school and not Aglionby. He drops out and essentially moves into Swan’s dorm room when his grandma (only living relative) dies. The only things that help quiet his mind are music and Swan playing with his hair. Designated DJ at every single party. His sleeve tattoos are sprawling bright florals and they cover the thin scars on his wrists. Every now and then a misguided fucker will try to slip something in Skov’s drink or corner him in some seedy bathroom. Jiang likes to break their fingers after Kavinsky throws some punches that don’t always land.


Swan is the tallest of the bunch and clearly the most handsome, charming as hell too. Smooth, dark skin and dark eyes too, with a smile to make your knees weak. Has two nose piercings, septum and left nostril. Sometimes he has trouble controlling his anger which is why he tries to diffuse conflicts. Clearly that goes out of hand in the crowd he runs with.

Very tactile and affectionate, he messes up Proko’s hair, puts an arm around Skov’s shoulders, fist bumps Jiang. Every time Kavinsky tries to kiss him, Swan’s large hand covers K’s entire face and pushes him away. This happens a lot. Swan only ever wants to kiss Skov, even if Skov kisses other people too.

Swan is the easiest to talk to even if he doesn’t always know what to say back. Maybe because of that. He guards their secrets something fierce.


Jiang is the one who buried Prokopenko’s body, but K only ever told Swan how it happened. Skov only met the dream version of Proko, so he couldn’t tell the difference, but the others knew the new Proko asked less questions, didn’t storm out of parties where Kavinsky went too hard on the drugs. Nothing was enough to hold K down anymore.