This Is Everything I Could Have Asked For And More ;~;

this is everything i could have asked for and more ;~;

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

A Messy Christmas Surprise

alright so i'm making little christmas drabbles for Dean, Sam, Jack, Cas, and Rowena! for all of the Dean lovers out there, here is a special little treat!

Dean Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used!!

Summary: Dean and the reader are baking Christmas treats at the bunker while Sam is on a hunt. Amidst the festive chaos, Dean cracks an egg on the reader's head, leading to a playful flour fight. Dean then picks the reader up over his shoulder, and they share a laughter-filled moment. Sam returns, finding the kitchen in disarray, and discovers Dean and the reader surrounded by flour and baking ingredients. The messy holiday surprise becomes a memorable Christmas memory for the Winchester trio.

A Messy Christmas Surprise

The bunker was adorned with twinkling lights, and the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air as Dean and you gathered ingredients for your Christmas baking extravaganza. Sam had headed out on a solo hunt, leaving you and Dean to tackle the holiday treats together.

As you worked side by side, measuring flour and cracking eggs, the atmosphere was festive and filled with laughter. Christmas music played softly in the background, creating the perfect backdrop for your baking escapade.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Dean slyly reached over and cracked an egg on your head, leaving you stunned and dripping with gooey egg whites. "Dean!" you exclaimed, wiping the egg off your face. He burst into laughter, thoroughly amused by his impromptu prank.

"Oh, that's payback for all those times you beat me at poker," Dean chuckled, still laughing at his own cleverness.

You shot him a playful glare before concocting a plan for retaliation. Grabbing a handful of flour, you tossed it at Dean, coating him in a powdery white cloud. He blinked, momentarily taken aback, before breaking into a grin.

"You asked for it!" you declared, holding back giggles. Dean mock-growled, attempting to feign anger but failing miserably as he burst into laughter once again.

The flour-covered kitchen now looked like a battleground of holiday chaos, but you were both having the time of your lives. However, Dean had one more surprise up his sleeve. With a swift motion, he scooped you up over his shoulder, causing you to squeal with surprise.

"Dean Winchester, put me down!" you laughed, lightly smacking his back.

"Nah, you've got flour on your hands. Can't risk you retaliating again," Dean teased, carrying you around the kitchen as you continued to protest.

Just as the two of you were lost in your playful banter, the bunker door swung open. Sam, covered in dried blood, walked in with a tired yet satisfied expression. He took in the scene before him – the messy kitchen, the flour-covered couple, and the unmistakable sound of laughter.

"Am I interrupting something?" Sam asked, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

Dean, still holding you over his shoulder, looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Just a little Christmas baking surprise, Sammy."

You grinned, feeling the warmth of the holiday season and the joy of being surrounded by family, even in the midst of floury chaos. As Sam chuckled at the sight before him, Dean gently set you down, and the three of you shared a laughter-filled Christmas moment in the bunker.

Tags

supernatural dean winchester spn spn fanfic dean winchester x reader dean winchester x you dean winchester x y/n dean winchester imagine dean winchester oneshot dean winchester fanfic supernatural fanfic

54 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

John Reese Having A Crush On You Would Include...

John's normally stoic demeanor softening whenever he's around you.

He would pay extra attention to your safety and well-being, often discreetly watching over you from a distance.

Unexpected acts of kindness, like bringing you coffee or your favorite snack without you even asking.

John becoming more protective, both in terms of physical safety and emotional support.

Subtle but frequent eye contact that lingers just a little longer than necessary.

Finding excuses to spend time with you, whether it's helping you with a task or just striking up conversations.

He would go on a mission just so he could be around you.

John being a great listener, always eager to hear what you have to say and remembering even the smallest details of your conversations.

His body language betraying his feelings, with nervous gestures like running a hand through his hair or fidgeting when he's near you.

John making an effort to learn more about your interests and hobbies, even if they're not his own.

A touch of jealousy when he sees you with other people, though he'd try to hide it.

Subtle compliments and praises, often given in a low, genuine tone.

A willingness to open up and share more about his own life and past with you.

John's undying loyalty and dedication to keeping you safe, no matter what.

Man's would kill for you, literally.

Someone touches you? Dead. Someone looks at you? Dead. Hotel? Trivago.

But in all seriousness, John would start a bar fight just because another man touched you.

The lingering looks this man would give you when you're not looking.

He's literally to die for ;-;

Tags

poi person of interest john reese imagine john reese oneshot john reese x reader john reese x y/n john reese x you reese x reader reese x you reese x y/n reese oneshot reese imagine

50 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

do you still write for logan h? i can’t get enough of him and am dying for more of him haha! maybe reader being jealous of jean even though she’s with scott. but logan’s just touchy and close with her. angst or fluff whichever. i like my heart hurting. or when logan goes back and time and (she’s ages slowly too) instantly connect and grow close. (maybe she got killed between the sentinels and him being sent back) so he’s trying to hold it in and not cry when he see her?

if not it is absolutely ok if you don’t write anything. i completely understand! no worries whatsoever! thank you 💕

omg yes!! i absolutely love logan h!! this idea is so amazing! i can’t wait to write this!! thank you so much for the request lovely <3

5 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance

Kai Parker x Reader

No pronouns used

summary: In the mystical realm of Mystic Falls, you, a young witch, find yourself entangled in the darkness of the supernatural world. Your heart heavy with its weight, you stumble upon one of the most feared and fascinating figures in the supernatural community—Kai Parker. With a reputation that sends shivers down the bravest spines, Kai's twisted humor and unpredictable nature draw you in despite the warnings. An unexpected encounter in your herb garden sparks a connection that defies the boundaries of your world. As you navigate the intricacies of Kai's troubled past and the allure of his enigmatic charisma, you're faced with a choice: stay away from the danger he embodies or risk everything for a love that seems impossible in a world where darkness reigns. 'Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance' weaves a tale of forbidden attraction, empathy, and a love that flourishes amidst the supernatural shadows.

Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance

The Mystic Falls night was shrouded in darkness, and you found yourself wandering through the abandoned streets, your heart heavy with the weight of the supernatural world you had become a part of. As a young witch, you had always been warned about the dangers lurking in the shadows, and it seemed that fate had led you to one of the most dangerous of them all: Kai Parker.

Kai had a reputation that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest vampires and witches. His twisted sense of humor and unpredictable nature made him both feared and fascinating. It was said that he had no regard for anyone's well-being but his own, yet there was an undeniable charisma about him that drew you in.

One fateful night, while you were tending to the herbs in your garden, you felt a presence behind you, a subtle but unmistakable shift in the air. Before you could react, a voice whispered in your ear, "You're quite skilled with those herbs."

Startled, you turned to find Kai standing there, his blue eyes sparkling with an inexplicable curiosity.

"You... you shouldn't sneak up on people like that," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure.

Kai chuckled, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you despite your better judgment. "I tend to do a lot of things I shouldn't."

Over time, you found yourself drawn into Kai's orbit, despite the warnings of your friends and the nagging feeling in your gut that told you to stay away. He was an enigma, a puzzle you couldn't resist trying to solve.

As the days turned into weeks, you discovered that there was more to Kai than met the eye. He had his demons, his past filled with pain and isolation. You couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for him, a desire to understand the darkness that consumed him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars filled the sky, you found yourself standing with Kai in the same garden where you had first met. His hand brushed against yours, a touch so gentle it surprised you.

"You're not like other witches," he mused, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "And you're not like other vampires."

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

You reached up, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, feeling the coolness of his skin. "I haven't decided yet."

In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only you and Kai in a fragile bubble of connection. It was a connection forged in defiance of the darkness that surrounded you both, a connection that held the promise of redemption and love in a world where such things seemed impossible.

As you leaned in, closing the gap between you, you knew that the path you were treading was dangerous, but it was a risk you were willing to take—for Kai Parker had become more than just a dangerous enigma; he had become the missing piece in your own complicated puzzle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i love this one so much ;-;. i hope you like it just as much, if not more!

Tags

tvd the vampire diaries kai parker kai parker x reader kai parker x you kai parker oneshot kai parker imagine malachai parker x y/n malachai parker x reader malachai parker oneshot malachai parker imagine malachai parker kai parker x y/n malachai parker x you

107 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

Enchanting Christmas

i love this Scottish woman so much

Rowena MacLeod x Reader

No Pronouns used!!

Summary: Rowena, the enchanting witch, confesses to the reader that the holiday season has awakened new emotions within her. The two share a magical moment, culminating in a kiss that transcends the ordinary. As they celebrate the festive season together, they discover the unexpected joy of love in the midst of holiday magic.

Enchanting Christmas

The snow fell gently outside the bunker, creating a serene winter wonderland. The scent of pine and the soft glow of Christmas lights filled the air. Rowena, the powerful and enchanting witch, had decided to join the Winchesters for the holiday season, and you couldn't have been more thrilled.

As the three of you gathered around the roaring fireplace, sipping hot cocoa, Rowena couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled with joy. She had always been drawn to your warmth and kindness, and Christmas seemed to amplify those qualities.

One evening, Rowena approached you as you admired the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. "Y/N, darling, may I have a word?" she purred, her Scottish accent weaving a magical spell.

You turned to face her, a smile gracing your lips. "Of course, Rowena. What's on your mind?"

Rowena took your hand and led you to a cozy corner of the bunker, away from prying eyes. There, surrounded by the soft glow of candles, she cast a subtle enchantment to make the moment even more magical.

"Y/N, I must admit, this Christmas season has brought out a side of me I never thought I'd embrace," Rowena confessed, her eyes softening.

You looked at her with curiosity, feeling the genuine vulnerability beneath her powerful exterior.

"Spending time with you, the Winchesters, and the festive spirit has awakened something within me," Rowena continued, her hand tracing patterns on yours. "I find myself drawn to the warmth you exude, the joy you bring to those around you."

A blush tinted your cheeks as you met Rowena's gaze. "I feel the same way, Rowena. Christmas wouldn't be the same without you."

Rowena leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft and lingering kiss. It felt like a spell, a magical connection that transcended the ordinary. The enchantment deepened, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of holiday magic.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you and Rowena shared a quiet moment, savoring the magic of Christmas and the unexpected warmth of love that had blossomed between you.

As you pulled away, Rowena whispered against your ear, "Merry Christmas, my darling. May this holiday be as enchanting as you are."

And with that, you both returned to the festivities, hand in hand, ready to celebrate a Christmas filled with magic, love, and the unexpected joy of newfound connections.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AHHHH i just want to marry her so bad!!!

Tags

supernatural spn rowena macleod spn fanfic rowena rowena macleod x reader rowena x reader rowena x you rowena macleod x you rowena x y/n rowena macleod x y/n rowena imagine rowena macleod imagine rowena oneshot rowena macleod oneshot

56 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

7K notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

what do ya'll think about a supernatural christmas fic? like with each of the boys/girls. obvi with Dean, Sam, Cas, Crowley, Jack, Charlie and Rowena. if there's any other spn characters you would want js let me know!!

0 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

Angelic Apologies

i finally wrote for Cas!!!! i love this man so much 🤣😭

Castiel Novak x Reader

No pronouns used

Summary: When a routine day in the bunker takes an unexpected turn, the reader accidentally punches Castiel in the face. Filled with guilt, apologies pour forth, only to be silenced by a surprising and passionate kiss from the celestial being. As the reader hesitates and pulls away, Castiel delivers a romantic yet slightly creepy declaration, showcasing his unique understanding of human interactions.

Angelic Apologies

In the dimly lit library of the bunker, you sat engrossed in a dusty tome, the weight of ancient knowledge pressing against your temples. The room was filled with a hushed quiet, the only sound being the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Little did you know, an unexpected visitor was about to disrupt your solitude.

Out of nowhere, a fluttering of wings announced Castiel's arrival. The air displaced, and with a soft whoosh, he stood behind you, his trench coat brushing against the floor. Unbeknownst to you, his piercing blue eyes studied the words on the pages before him. In the eerie silence, you sensed a presence and, acting purely on instinct, you whirled around and threw a punch.

Cas barely had time to register the surprise on his face before your fist connected with his nose. His head snapped back, and a low groan escaped his lips. "What the hell?" you exclaimed, only to realize that the celestial being you had just cold-cocked was none other than Castiel.

Panicking, you reached out to him, stammering an apology. "Cas, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to punch you. I thought you were… someone else?"

Cas straightened, holding his nose gingerly. "It's fine, [Y/N]. I understand that you were taken aback."

Your remorseful babbling continued, the words tumbling out like a waterfall of apologies. Cas, growing increasingly impatient, raised a hand to silence you. "Enough, [Y/N]. It's fine, really."

But you couldn't stop. "No, Cas, seriously, I feel awful. I can't believe I—"

In an unexpected turn of events, Cas cut you off, closing the distance between you and capturing your lips with his own. The suddenness of it left you breathless, and you could feel the warmth of his kiss melting away your worries. The apology lodged on your tongue was forgotten as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to Cas's coat.

When the kiss finally broke, you were left gasping for air, your eyes meeting Cas's intense gaze. His voice, calm but laced with a hint of something unfamiliar, spoke words that sent shivers down your spine. "You don't need to apologize, [Y/N]. In fact, I find your instincts rather endearing."

You blinked, the romantic sentiment juxtaposed with Cas's typical lack of understanding of human nuances. "Cas, that's… kind of creepy."

A small, bemused smile tugged at the corners of Cas's lips. "Is it? I've been observing human behavior, and I thought it might be an appropriate response."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Cas, you're a strange one."

His eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Perhaps, but I am learning. And I believe that in this moment, my actions speak louder than words."

You couldn't help but smile, realizing that even an angel could be surprisingly charming in his own peculiar way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AHHHHH i'm so happy i finally wrote fro Cas lmaooo i just love him so much

Tags

supernatural castiel cas cas x you cas x y/n cas x reader castiel novak castiel novak x reader castiel x reader castiel x you castiel novak x you castiel x y/n castiel novak x y/n cas imagine castiel imagine castiel novak imagine cas oneshot castiel oneshot castiel novak oneshot cas novak x reader cas novak x you cas novak x y/n cas novak oneshot cas novak imagine cas novak

353 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

Unforeseen Love

i may be in my logan howlett era right now, but it's fine! just means some nice little fics for my fav X-Man!

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

They/them pronouns used!!

Summary: While on a mission with Logan, Y/N gets seriously hurt, leading to them being in the medical bay for several days as Hank helps them recover. Although Y/N and Logan had never gotten along, Y/N is surprised when Logan sticks by their side throughout their entire recovery. This ends in a heartfelt, sweet and loving kiss shared by the two!

Unforeseen Love

Logan Howlett, better known as Wolverine, grumbled under his breath as he and Y/N made their way through the dense forest. The tension between them was palpable, and it seemed like sparks could fly any moment. They had despised each other from day one, an inexplicable clash of personalities that neither could overcome.

Little did they know, a deeper connection existed beneath the surface. Y/N had a mutant ability akin to Charles Xavier's, but instead of delving into the thoughts of others, they could sense emotions. Logan, however, had mastered the art of keeping his feelings locked away, a shield that even Y/N couldn't penetrate.

The mission they were on required stealth and precision, a trait Logan excelled in. He led the way, his adamantium claws unsheathed, eyes scanning the surroundings with uncanny precision. Y/N followed, their senses alert but wary of the man they begrudgingly worked alongside.

As they moved deeper into the mission, the unexpected happened. A sudden ambush from an unforeseen enemy left Y/N injured and struggling. Logan's fierce protective instincts kicked in, and he fought with a newfound intensity to ensure Y/N's safety. In the midst of the chaos, a blade grazed Y/N's side, leaving them incapacitated.

The pain hit Y/N like a tidal wave, and Logan's gruff voice called out their name in concern. The world around them blurred as consciousness slipped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N awoke, the sterile scent of the X-Men's medical facility filled their senses. The pain in their side was dulled, thanks to the advanced healing technology. Blinking against the harsh lights, they groggily turned their head to find Logan sitting nearby, his expression etched with worry.

"Finally awake, huh?" Logan's tone was gruff, but Y/N caught a glimmer of concern in his eyes.

"What happened?" Y/N asked, feigning ignorance to the emotions swirling around them.

Logan hesitated, his usual tough exterior momentarily softened. "You got yourself hurt. It was touch and go for a bit, but Hank patched you up."

Despite the pain, Y/N couldn't help but notice the sincerity in Logan's voice. Their ability to sense emotions hinted at something more, something beyond the animosity that had defined their relationship.

"You were worried about me," Y/N stated, almost as if testing the waters.

Logan grunted, looking away as if annoyed by the revelation. "Don't get used to it. I just didn't want to babysit a rookie."

Y/N smirked, realizing that perhaps there was more to Logan Howlett than met the eye. As they lay in the medical bay, recovering from their injuries, the unspoken connection between them began to unravel. Maybe, just maybe, beneath the layers of resentment, there was a flicker of something else—an understanding that transcended words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days in the medical bay blurred together for Y/N. Their injuries were healing, but what surprised them even more was Logan's constant presence. He would leave only to return with food, grumbling about the lack of decent grub around the X-Mansion. As much as Logan tried to maintain his tough exterior, there was an unspoken tenderness in the way he cared for Y/N.

As Y/N lay on the medical bay bed on the third day, a subtle shift in the air caught their attention. It wasn't the usual mix of irritation and restraint that emanated from Logan. Instead, an overwhelming sense of love and concern filled the room. Y/N furrowed their brow, confused by this unexpected surge of emotion.

Logan entered the room, carrying a tray of food. His eyes met Y/N's, and for a moment, the gruff exterior wavered. It was as if a floodgate had opened, allowing Y/N to sense the depth of Logan's emotions.

"What's with the sudden outpouring of affection, Howlett?" Y/N teased, trying to hide the vulnerability that was bubbling up within them.

Logan scowled, seemingly caught off guard by the question. "I ain't showin' affection. Just making sure you don't die on us."

Y/N chuckled, but there was a knowing glint in their eyes. "You can't fool me, Logan. I can feel it, you know. The concern, the… love."

Logan's expression tightened, and he looked away. The barrier he had meticulously built around his emotions had crumbled, and there was no denying the truth anymore.

"I don't do this mushy crap," Logan grumbled, but his voice lacked the usual conviction.

Y/N sat up, a determination in their eyes. "Logan, you can't hide from me anymore. I can feel what you're feeling, and it's okay. More than okay."

Logan sighed, a rare vulnerability surfacing in his gaze. "Damn it, kid. You're messin' with my head."

Y/N reached out, gently cupping Logan's face. "Maybe it's time we stop fighting each other and admit what's been staring us in the face all along."

Logan's defenses crumbled further as Y/N closed the distance between them. Their lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, a silent acknowledgment of the emotions that had been hidden for too long. In that moment, the unspoken bond between them deepened, transcending the animosity that had defined their relationship.

As they pulled away, Logan's gruff exterior softened, and Y/N couldn't help but smile. Sometimes, it took a brush with vulnerability to uncover the hidden truths. Love had a way of breaking through even the toughest of walls, and for Logan and Y/N, it was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with understanding, acceptance, and a love that had finally been acknowledged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i'm pretty sure i'm in love with him.... but that's okay! also, i love how Logan is also an Albertan 😎💪

Tags

x men wolverine logan howlett wolverine x reader logan howlett x reader james howlett james howlett x reader logan howlett x you james howlett x you wolverine x you logan howlett x y/n james howlett x y/n wolverine x y/n logan howlett imagine james howlett imagine wolverine imagine logan howlett oneshot james howlett oneshot wolverine oneshot

519 notes View Post

imaginesforfandom

1 year ago

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Heartbeat Symphony:

Summary: After a long day on the road, the couple finds solace in the comfort of the Impala. The story explores the quiet moments between hunts, emphasizing the deep connection and love they share. Back at the bunker, they unwind together, appreciating the simplicity of being a team both in and out of the field. The narrative highlights the strength of their bond and the sense of home they find in each other's company.

A Messy Christmas Surprise:

Sam Winchester

Christmas Tides:

Summary: Sam Winchester surprises the reader with a heartfelt gift and invites them to share a quiet and cozy night together away from hunting. The two exchange stories, laughter, and meaningful glances. As snow falls outside, they find a moment of respite and connection, sealed with a sweet kiss under the mistletoe.

Reluctant Guardian:

Summary: After Sam gets injured on a hunt alone, Castiel sends a trustworthy angel to heal him. There's a catch though, the reader and Sam seem to butt heads all the time

Castiel Novak

Angelic Apologies:

Heavenly Christmas:

Summary: Castiel experiences Christmas traditions for the first time with the Winchester brothers and the reader. As they decorate the tree and exchange gifts, Castiel learns about the holiday spirit. The story culminates in a magical moment under the mistletoe, where Castiel and the reader share a sweet kiss, making it a Christmas to remember for everyone involved.

Rowena MacLeod

Enchanting Christmas:

Jack Kline

Mistletoe Moments:

Summary: As the holiday season wraps its magic around the bunker, Jack Kline finds himself intrigued by the mysterious allure of mistletoe. Little does he know that this Christmas will bring about more than just festive decorations.

Tags

cas x reader sam winchester x reader dean x reader sam x reader dean winchester x reader castiel novak x reader rowena macleod x reader rowena x reader castiel x reader cas novak x reader jack kline x reader jack x reader

92 notes View Post

End of content

No more pages to load