Moon 🌙

18 ☾·⋆✭"She has the moon in her mind, that's why stars spill off her lips"✭⋆·☽ (Taking a break, i will be back)

[moonandst4rs]

Masterlist

♪ English isn’t my first language <3 ♪ I write fics based off of songs - Mainly angst <3 ♪ Uploading is currently slow :/ ♪ Requests are open - feel free to ask for the same prompt with different characters !

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Navigation

| ♡ Supernatural | ❀ Marvel | ꩜ Hannibal | ✮ Criminal Minds | 𓃴 Red Dead Redemption |

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Supernatural Masterlist

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Marvel

Frank Castle x gn!reader:

❀ Frank Castle Moodboard

❀ "All i ever wanted was you"

Matt Murdock x gn!reader:

❀ “Walk me home in the dead of night.”

❀ ➵ Version 2 ➵ “Walk me home in the dead of night” V2

❀ “It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now”

Logan Howlett

❀ Logan Howlett Moodboard

x gn!reader

❀ “But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight”

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Hannibal

Will Graham x gn!reader:

꩜ "And they called it puppy love"

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Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

x gn!reader

✮ "Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me"

✮ "Somewhere in the crowd there's you”

x female!reader

✮ “She’s always a woman to me”

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Red Dead Redemption

Arthur Morgan x gn!reader:

𓃴 “You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be”

[moonandst4rs]

“You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be”

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Masterlist

ARTHUR MORGAN X GN!READER

WC: 834

Summary: You're a good man Arthur Morgan, Arthur doesn't understand how you can love someone like him.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Iris' By Goo Goo Dolls, no use of y/n, angst, comfort, fluff, established relationship

A/N: So sorry uploads have been slow, i'll get more out when i can <3 !! Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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For the first time in weeks camp was quiet, it’s the early hours of the morning. Only you and Arthur sitting around the low, crackling campfire. The crickets chirping and the wolves howls reminding you that the nature doesn’t sleep, even the twinkling stars above you. You glance over at Arthur, the glow of the moon painting his face. He looks tired, his jaw tense, his white-knuckle grip on his jeans giving it away. Despite Arthur’s refusal to open up you had learnt how to read him like a book. The furrowed eyebrows indicting that he’s lost in thought.

“You’re quiet tonight.” You prompt, your voice gentle to match the whistling of the wind.

Arthur blinks slowly, sitting up as though he had just been reminded of your presence. “S’pose I am.”

“You’re thinking, too much i’m guessin’” You state, your voice not accusatory but curious.

He huffs out a bitter laugh “Ain’t that the truth sweetheart.”

There’s a long pause. You don’t break it yet, knowing this is what he needs. Yet the silence feels heavier than usual, like there’s a hidden weight crushing your lungs.

Finally he speaks up. “Why’re you still here?” He doesn’t look at you, as though he’s too afraid to hear your response. His eyes are trained on the fire as though the dying flames will reveal what he’s missing.

You turn to him, a shiver down your spine at his question. “What do you mean, honey?”

He still won’t avert his gaze from the fire. “You could be anywhere. You’re free. You could be with someone…better, a good man. Not…hm.” He trails off, the words getting caught in his throat. “Not someone like me.”

You know that Arthur’s a troubled man but this catches your breath. “Arthur-”

“I ain’t a good man.” He interrupts, his voice gruff and sharp. “I’m a dirty outlaw, darlin’. I kill people, i lie, i've robbed more folks that i can keep track of.” You finally reach out, gently tilting his chin so his gaze meets yours. His eyes are dark and haunted, a window to his suffering. “I don’t want you thinkin’ i’m someone i ain’t.”

“I don’t.” You stroke his cheek. “I know the man that you are Arthur.”

He shakes his head, slowly. “No, you don’t. If you did, you’d leave just like Mary did. You’d turn around and never look back.”

Your heart clenches as the mention of Mary. You knew her leaving hurt him more that he would ever admit. “I wouldn’t.”

“You should.”

Your hand drops from his face to his hand, intertwining your fingers as though you could keep him from breaking. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t squeeze yours either.

“You think that if you push me, i’ll stop loving you.” You reply quietly. He hates how well you can read him.

He swallowed loudly. “It ain’t about that.”

“Isn’t it, honey?”

Arthur closes his eyes. “You’re the best thing in my life darlin’. I love you like it’s breathin’, angel.” He whispers. “And I—God, i just…” His voice is starting to crack. “I’m scared that you’re gonna see me for who i am. That you’ll see i’m nothing more than a brute and a killer. ‘Cause once you do, you’ll realise that you made a mistake.”

“I already have, sweetheart.” You reply, not unkindly. “I’ve seen the blood on your hands, Arthur. I’ve seen the things that you’ve done.”

“Then why?” His voice is desperate, a raw edge he can’t hide anymore. “Then why the hell do you still look at me like that?”

You know what he’s on about. The way that you look at him, your eyes full of love as though he had hung the stars. He was your Arthur at the end of the day. “Because you are more than what you’ve done.”

He looks at you bewildered, like he can’t even imagine believing it.

Your hands cup his jaw, thumbs swiping over his cheeks trying to make your words sink in. “You think you’re poison, the worst man on earth, but you’re not. You protect people, you care for them. You carry pain for everyone else and you try so goddamn hard to not let anyone see you break, not even Hosea.”

He looks down for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, allowing himself to mull over your words and possibly believe them. “I don’t know how to be loved, angel.” He admits in a gentle whisper, to be lost with the other secrets belonging to the light of the moon.

“You don’t have to know or even understand it, sweetheart.” You explain, voice lowering to match his quiet tone. “You just have to let me.”

The fire hisses, the wolves cry out, the stars blinking overhead, all reminders of life and chaos on earth. Still, the most important reminder is the way in the hush of the night, he leans in, your rugged outlaw. For once, he lets himself believe he might be worth loving.

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[moonandst4rs]

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester

♡ Dean Winchester Moodboard

x gn!reader

♡ "Night Moves"

♡ "Think I like you best when you're just with me, And no one else"

♡ ➵ Part two ➵ "Stay with me, I don't want you to leave"

♡ "Isn't it strange, how people can change"

♡ ➵ Part two ➵ "I am still me ,You are still you, In the same place"

♡ "Oh, take me back to the night we met"

♡ "Everywhere, Everything"

♡ “No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her”

♡ "Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me"

♡ “It's you I welcome death with, As the world, as the world caves in”

♡ “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”

Vamp!Reader: ♡ “You and I drink the poison from the same vine”

x female!reader

♡ “I think we’re alone now”

Platonic Sam and Dean x gn!reader:

♡ "Oh take me back to the start"

[moonandst4rs]

How would you describe Supernatural to someone who has never seen it?

Two attractive brothers questionably saving the world—(ish). Absolute chaos. Don’t get attached to anyone. Daddy issues galore ass show. Emotionally damaged people emotionally damaging the viewers. Will make you question your existence. But it’s okay because the imapala looks cool. Plus the music is great.

[moonandst4rs]

Logan Howlett Moodboard

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Masterlist

Baby girl Logan Howlett <3

[moonandst4rs]

“But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight”

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Masterlist

LOGAN HOWLETT X GN!READER

WC: 284

Summary: You're death haunts Logan

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Dark Paradise' By Lana Del Rey. no use of y/n, angst, mentions of death and grief

A/N: Sorry uploads have been slow, i'm trying to get a few out as soon as I can !! Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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He killed you. At least that’s what his head screamed at him over and over. It had been 8 months since that mission, 8 months of pure agony, but the guilt never relented. Your soft voice still whispered in his ears whenever he closed his eyes, promising that everything would be alright.

The team was worried about him, they could see the impact of your death in Logan. His smile never reached his eyes, he’d stare off into space, snapping at people when they asked if he was okay. He had grown jumpier since your death, sharp, shiny claws extending at any noise.

Sleep was his only refuge. It was the one place he could still see you, the love of his life again standing there with eyes shining bright and full of life. One of his favourite memories was the night he took you on his motorcycle to watch the sunset. He did not care much about the view, he was too focused watching you. The golden light painted your skin in a soft glow. The gentle breeze teased your hair. The faint scent of leather from his jakcet mixed with the scent of the earth around you. Your laughter, soft and warm, mingled with the rush of the wind. It reminded him of all the quiet, intimate nights you had shared, moments that now felt like a lifetime ago.

Nights like this were kind to him, not that he ever believed he deserved it. You were his solace in an unforgiving world. And even you had been ripped away from him. You were his biggest torment and his greatest loss. You were alive in his dreams, a merciless echo when he woke.

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[moonandst4rs]

“You and I drink the poison from the same vine”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X VAMPIRE!READER

WC: 1.1k

Summary: You and Dean are more alike then you both thought.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Daylight' by David Kushner, angst, no use of y/n

A/N: Sorry posts are slower, i'm hoping to be able to post more soon !! Any requests or feedback is helpful, even if you're just chatting -- they don't need to me music related !!

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The flickering light from the motel room lamp is the only constant, it casts faint shadows against the faded paint on the walls. It’s a dirty, forgotten place, much like all the others Dean Winchester has passed through on his never-ending hunt. You sit across from him quietly, the hum of a distant highway flows through the cracked window. It’s the middle of the night, you assume. You don’t know how long you’ve been here.

It’s been hours since you were both forced into this room. The hunt had gone sideways, Dean had been tracking a nest, and you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except for the fact that you weren't entirely wrong. You had your own reasons for being there.

You glance at him, the famous hunter, the legend whose name spreads fear and awe in equally. He’s every bit as dangerous as they say, sharp eyes, tensed muscles, always on edge. Even now, sitting across the small table from you, he’s ready. He’s always ready. For you. For whatever comes next.

But he doesn’t reach for the knife he’s surely stashed under his jacket. Not yet.

"Still can’t believe I’m not dead right now," you murmur, breaking the silence that’s been stretching for far too long. You can’t help the smirk that plays on your lips, though there's no real humor behind it.

Dean doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenches, that familiar muscle twitching in his cheek, the one that shows up when he's thinking too hard or holding back something he’d rather not say. Finally, his voice cuts through the still air, low and rough. "You’re lucky, I guess. If you want to call it that."

You lean back in your chair, your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. "Lucky? Is that what we’re calling it?"

Dean’s eyes flick toward you, green like a mischievous cat. There's no trust in his gaze, but there’s no real hatred either. He’s conflicted, you can feel it radiating off him like heat from a fire. It’s not every day he shares a room with a vampire and doesn’t end it with a beheading.

"You’ve had your chances to take me out," he says, leaning forward just slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "And I’ve had mine. So, what gives? Why am I still breathing?"

It’s an odd question, considering you could ask him the same. Instead, you look out the window, watching as the streetlights flicker to life in the distance. "Maybe I’m tired," you say quietly. "Tired of the blood, the running, the endless nights that never change. Maybe I’m just sick of being what I am."

The silence that follows is heavy. You don’t expect Dean to understand. How could he? But then, you think about him, this is a man who has spent his life drenched in the blood of monsters, driven by the same hunger for survival that drives you. He kills because he has to. You feed because you have to. Two different paths, but neither of you had much of a choice.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You think I don’t get tired? You think I don’t wonder why I keep doing this, why I keep fighting when it never seems to end? It’s all blood, all of it. Doesn’t matter whose it is."

You turn to look at him, surprised by the edge of vulnerability in his voice. You’ve heard stories about Dean Winchester, about how he’s a man made of steel, unyielding, relentless. But sitting across from you now, he looks more human than you expected. More broken.

"It’s different for you," Dean adds, his voice hardening again. "You’re a vampire. You chose to live this way."

A bitter laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "You think I chose this?" You stand up slowly, pacing toward the window, your reflection faint against the glass. "You think any of us wake up one day and decide we want to be monsters? To be hunted down, to live in the dark forever, watching the world move on without us?"

Dean’s silence is telling. He’s heard it all before, probably from other monsters begging for their lives. But you’re not begging. You’ve never begged.

"It’s the same for you," you continue, turning back to face him. "Maybe you weren’t bitten, maybe you weren’t turned into this thing that has to kill to survive. But you were made into something. The life you live…it consumes you. It makes you into something else. Something…less human."

His eyes narrow at your words, but he doesn’t argue. He knows it’s true. You’ve seen it before, hunters who become so consumed by the hunt that they forget why they started in the first place. They forget who they were before all the killing, before all the death.

"You’re not like them," He finally says, standing up, his hands sliding into his pockets. He moves toward the window, standing beside you, though he keeps a cautious distance. "You’re not like the ones I’ve hunted."

"Maybe not," you admit, your voice softer now. "But it doesn’t change what I am."

Dean’s gaze shifts from the window to you, his eyes searching yours, you don’t know what for. Maybe he’s trying to figure out if he should kill you now, if he should put an end to whatever this tense truce is. Or maybe he’s looking for something else, some sign that there’s more to you than fangs and bloodlust.

"It’s not just about what you are," he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "It’s about what you do."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. What you do. It’s always been about that, hasn’t it? The choices you make, the lines you’re willing to cross. You’ve killed before, and not always because you had no other choice. But you’ve also chosen not to kill. To walk away when you could have fed.

Dean’s eyes remain fixed on you, and for the first time, you feel a flicker of understanding between you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. But he knows you’re not the same as the monsters he’s spent his entire life hunting.

"That’s enough for now," you say, breaking the tension. "For tonight, at least."

Dean nods, a small, almost undetectable gesture. He turns away from the window, heading back to the table where his weapons are stashed, he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet.

"Sun’ll be up soon," he mutters, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We’ll figure out what next."

You nod, but neither of you speaks again as the night wears on. You both know there’s no easy end to this. Tomorrow, Dean will have to decide what to do with you, and you’ll have to decide if you’ll stay or disappear into the night before he can make that choice.

Two souls lost in the shadows, bound by the blood on their hands, neither quite human anymore.

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[moonandst4rs]

“Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X GN!READER

WC: 824

Summary: Dean's struggling to keep fighting

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door' by Bob Dylan, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

A/N: This is such a good song honestly. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, things are chaotic so posts will be slower. Any requests or feedback is helpful, even if you're just chatting -- they don't need to me music related !!

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The night was cold and quieter than usual. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the kind that gnawed at you, it made you feel like the world had finally stopped spinning. It left you stranded somewhere between here and nowhere. The only sound was the soft rustle of wind through the trees, like whispers of your past, carrying all the words you both couldn’t say.

You stood beside Dean, watching as the stars flickered faintly above you, like they were barely holding on too. It wasn’t often you found yourselves with a moment to breathe, but even now, it felt like the weight of the world was still pressing on your shoulders. Dean was leaning against the Impala, he was looking ahead, his eyes distant, as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

"You ever wonder if this is it?" Dean’s voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been holding back too much for too long. He didn’t look at you when he spoke, but you knew it wasn’t because he was hiding. Dean never was one to face the things that hurt head-on unless it was a monster he could actually kill, he was never comfortable sharing his feeling.

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, and it felt like the air between you both grew heavier, the weight of his thoughts slowly crushing you. "I mean… if this is where it all ends. Us. The fight. Everything. Maybe we’re just knockin’ on heaven’s door, and it’s never gonna open."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat getting bigger. It wasn’t like Dean to talk like this, at least not out loud. He carried his burden like a badge, shouldering everyone else’s pain without ever giving himself the time or the grace to feel his own.

"You’re not ready to give up, are you?" you asked softly, although you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. Then finally, he turned to face you, eyes darker than usual, full of the weight of every battle, every loss, every moment he’d had to be stronger than anyone else.

"I’m tired," he admitted, voice cracking at the weight of his words. "I’m real tired, sweetheart."

Your heart broke a little hearing him say it out loud. You had always known,you’d always seen it in the way he moved, the way his shoulders never seemed to relax. Dean Winchester was made of steel and grit, but even steel bends under enough pressure.

You stepped closer, the sound of your boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his arm, the warmth of him a stark contrast to the cold night air, he always did run hot. a ‘human furnace’ as Sam called him.

"We’ll keep going," you said quietly, even though you weren’t sure if it was a promise you could keep. "We always do."

Dean looked down at your hand on his arm, then slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. There was something raw in his eyes, something vulnerable he never let anyone see. It made your chest tighten because you knew how much he hated letting anyone in that far.

"I don’t know if I can keep fighting," he admitted, and it was like the dam had broken. The words tumbled out, laced with years of pain and guilt and everything he’d bottled up for far too long. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this… watching the people I care about get hurt, lose more than we can handle. I’m knockin’, and no one’s answering."

The knot in your throat felt too big to swallow, and you blinked against the sting in your eyes. You couldn’t say anything that would make it better, couldn’t fix the cracks in him that had formed long before you met him.

So instead, you did what you could. You took another step closer, closing the distance between you, and gently rested your head against his chest. His breath hitched slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the comfort you were offering.

"We’ll figure it out," you whispered, your voice barely above the wind. "And if we don’t… if it’s the end… at least we won’t be standing at that door alone."

Dean’s arms wrapped around you then, pulling you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. You could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath your ear, strong, despite everything that had tried to break him. It was peaceful. Just the two of you, standing together, waiting for whatever came next.

No matter how long you stood knocking on heaven’s door, as long as you were with him, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone, Dean made sure of that.

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[moonandst4rs]

Sorry for not updating !!

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Just wanted to come on here and say i’m sorry for not updating, things have been chaotic and i’ve had a persistent headache that will not give me a moment of peace. I should be back to updating very soon, let me know if you guys have any requests !! <3

[moonandst4rs]

Supernatural characters as flowers !!

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This randomly came to me as i was looking at different flowers and their meanings. And i don't know, they some just seemed to resonate with different characters. To be completely honest though, I just love associating things together, like character and colours, songs, different gods and goddesses, so like if you guys enjoy this type of thing let me know, plus if you'd like to know any other characters !! And don't be afraid to share your ideas as well <3

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Dean Winchester - Gladiolus - Struggle, Strength, Victory, Pride, Moral Integrity

Sam Winchester - BlueBell - Humility, Constancy, Gratitude, Everlasting Love

Castiel - White Lily - Purity, Spirituality, Peace, Rebirth, Commitment, Faith

Bobby Singer - Oak Tree Flowers - Strength, Wisdom, Endurance, Resilience

Jack Kline - Daisy - Innocence, Purity, New Beginnings, Cheerfulness, Divine Virtue

Crowley - Black Dahlia - Betrayal, Sadness, Passion, Power, Strength

Rowena - Foxglove - Beauty, Danger, Healing, Harm, Immortality, Magic

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[moonandst4rs]

“It's you I welcome death with, As the world, as the world caves in”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X F!READER

WC: 1.1K

Summary: Dean and you lie in bed, preparing to face Lucifer tomorrow, (I'm awful at summaries)

Warnings / Content: Inspired by As the world caves in. no use of y/n, fluffy, slight angst, set in 5x10, "Abandon All Hope"

A/N: Trying to write more dialogue, let me know what you think ! Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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The night was still, but there was an eerie tension in the air, the kind that weighed heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe, suffocating you slowly. Tomorrow, everything could end. Tomorrow, you, Sam, Dean,, Ellen, Bobby, Cas and Jo were heading into a battle you weren’t sure anyone could survive. Lucifer. The devil himself. The thought of it was almost too much to bear, but there was no room for fear now. Not tonight.

In the darkened bedroom of Bobby’s home, Dean lay beside you, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The faint orange glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. He hadn’t said much since you got in bed. Sam and Cas were off doing their own thing, Ellen, Bobby and Jo were drinking, all preparing in their own ways. But here, it was just the two of you, blanketed in the fragile peace before the storm.

You rolled onto your side, watching him for a moment. His face was tense, the weight of what was coming pressing down on him more than usual. Dean was always the one carrying the burden, the one shouldering the impossible decisions, determined to keep fighting against all odds, but tonight…tonight felt heavier.

“You okay?” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence.

Dean let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling like he was carrying the weight of the world in that single sigh. His hand found yours under the sheets, his calloused fingers brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say…if there’s anything to say.”

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "We don’t have to talk about tomorrow. Not yet," you murmured, your fingers interlacing with his. "Tonight’s about us."

Dean’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d let himself relax. He never did, hwas always so focused on the next fight, the next threat. But slowly, he turned his head, his green eyes meeting yours, softening in a way they rarely did.

“How do you do that?” he asked quietly, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Make me feel like everything’s not going to hell, even when we both know it is?”

You gave a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "I guess I’m just stubborn. Someone’s gotta keep you grounded."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reached up to brush a thumb across your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your heart ache. Dean wasn’t good with words, but his touch…it spoke volumes. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve been leaning on you too much,” he muttered, though there was no real weight to the words. “You deserve better than this mess.”

You shook your head and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, slow and deep, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that moment. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, over the light stubbled that caressed his face.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you whispered, and you meant it. You’d made your choice a long time ago. This life, as dangerous and uncertain as it was, was where you belonged—with him, with Sam, with the family you found.

Dean’s hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer until you were practically lying on top of him. His lips brushed against your temple, then your forehead, in soft, lingering kisses. "You know," he murmured, his voice a little rougher now, "you make it real hard to be the tough guy."

You smiled softly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “Good,” you whispered back. “You don’t always have to be the tough guy.”

He chuckled, but it was tinged with something deeper, something more vulnerable. “I’m not scared of tomorrow,” he said after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. "Not for me. But for you…for Sam…for you all."

You tightened your hold on him, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. We always do.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stared at the ceiling, his thumb idly tracing circles on your back. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “If this is it, if tomorrow…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “I just want you to know—”

You cut him off, lifting your head to look into his eyes. "I know," you whispered, placing your hand over his heart. "I know, Dean."

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the weight of everything,the end of the world, Lucifer, the battles they’d fought and the ones they still had to face it all seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled up in each other, holding on to what little time you had left.

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was softer than any words he could have spoken. It was full of everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he felt but couldn’t put into words. And you kissed him back, pouring all of your love, your hope, and your fear into that single moment, like it was the last chance you’d ever get.

When you finally pulled apart, you rested your head on his chest again, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, grounding yourself in the sound of him. Dean’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, and for the first time that night, you felt him truly relax beneath you.

The world outside was falling apart, but here, in this bed, in this moment, none of it mattered. Tomorrow could wait. For tonight, it was just you and Dean, wrapped in each other, holding on to the quiet before the storm.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Dean tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips to your hair. “I love you, too,” he whispered back, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. And for tonight, being in Bobby's house with everyone he loved, you next to him, it was enough.

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[moonandst4rs]

"All I ever wanted was you"

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Masterlist

FRANK CASTLE X GN!READER

WC: 380 This is the same layout as my Dean Winchester - "Everywhere, Everything"

Summary: You miss Frank while he's away

Warnings / Content: Inspired by All i ever wanted by Dean Lewis. no use of y/n, angst,

A/N: Sorry for the slow updates, i've been ill. This is the same layout as my Dean Winchester - "Everywhere, Everything" Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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It wasn’t the silence that hurt the most. It was the empty spaces that were killing you. Like the one beside you in bed, the space next to you on the sofa, his unused coffee mug sitting idly on the counter, collecting dust.

The problem was his identity. After killing a bunch of bad guys and promising to do it again, you’re no longer anonymous.

"All I ever wanted, Was to love you like you loved me when nobody else was watching"

You couldn’t go outside. Couldn’t risk being seen, being known. Because being with Frank meant living in the shadows, hiding from the world and pretending to exist in the cracks.

That meant Frank stayed at your apartment for weeks on end once the police started getting close. And if you’re honest, those were your favorite nights. You draped lazily over him on the sofa, hidden under the cover of the night. Soft promises and sweet nothings whispered into the dark.

"And we'd stay awake 'til five in the morning, All I ever wanted"

Despite what everyone said, Frank Castle was a good man. He proved this over and over. Loyal, sweet, caring, everything you could ask for. But as the relationship went on, you spent more and more time apart.

He always promised, "I’ll be back soon," and you’d nod, clinging to the hope. But "soon" never felt like soon. Weeks stretched into lonely nights, filled with echoes of the past. Of you two, before his world swallowed him whole. You missed those simpler times.

"Was to go back to the days when we were young and made a promise, That we'd never change"

The sofa where you once shared lazy mornings felt cold now. You’d sit there, tracing the memories of his laughter, his warmth, wishing it could be enough to fill the void. But it wasn’t. It never was.

The city outside kept moving, indifferent. Cars passed, people laughed, lived. You watched from behind the curtains, a ghost in your own life, waiting for a man who belonged more to the night than to you. He fought for justice, for redemption, but what about you? What about the pieces you both lost in the fight?

“But if I'm being honest, all I ever wanted was you”

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[moonandst4rs]

“I think we’re alone now”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X F!READER

WC: 382

Summary: Dean wants alone time with you.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany. no use of y/n, fluff,

A/N: Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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The hunt was tough. You, Sam, and Dean had been hunting these damn werewolves for three weeks straight. They never stayed in the same place for too long, which meant the three of you were hopping from motel to motel with constant driving. It felt never-ending.

You loved the drives, windows down, listening to Dean’s music—much to Sam’s annoyance. But three weeks stuck together with no escape had been driving you all up the wall. Dean’s loud chewing with his mouth open, Sam’s perfectionism and complaining, your music blasting through your headphones… although you’d argue Sam was just being dramatic.

After missing your chance to catch the werewolves—again—Sam stormed out of the motel, Dean’s obnoxious chewing being his breaking point. Dean couldn’t hide his happiness. He didn’t mean to drive Sam out—or at least, that’s what he said.

He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder before resting his chin there.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he started softly, peppering kisses up your neck.

You leaned back against him. “Hey, you. Sam’s gonna be back soon. You realize that, right?” You commented, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Sam walked back in.

“Can’t a man have a moment with his girl?” Dean remarked. He brushed his hand up and down your side before resting it on your hips.

“Mmh, not when you and your brother are practically joined at the hip,” you grinned. You were well aware of the brothers' close bond. It was sweet—and a pain in the ass sometimes. Seriously, one year without them trying to sacrifice themselves would be nice. That’s all you ask.

“We’re not joined at the hip,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, and I’m Santa Claus.” You rolled your eyes. “Besides, you and Sam—”

Dean cut you off with a tender kiss. You chuckled but wrapped your arms around his neck, cupping the back of his head. He broke away and kissed your forehead before shooting Sam a text, practically threatening him to stay away.

He held you tightly as he gently pushed you onto the bed before climbing on top, caging your head between his arms. He showed you the message and Sam’s annoyed reply. “I think we’re alone now.”

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[moonandst4rs]

“It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now”

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Masterlist

MATT MURDOCK X GN!READER

WC: 685

Summary: It's a quarter after one, Matt's all alone and he needs you now

Warnings / Content: Inspired by Need you now by Lady A. no use of y/n, angst, mild comfort - ish

A/N: Aah !! I’m sorry i haven’t posted in a couple of days but more are on their way !! Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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Matt Murdock could lie to himself all he wanted, but since the day you walked out the door he hasn’t been the same. That moment has haunted him ever since. It’s like a shadow that follows him around waiting until he’s most vulnerable to sink the claws in.

Like now. It was late, too late to call. He knew that. But the ache in his chest was too strong to ignore. His fingers twitched. He was afraid, afraid of the rejection, afraid to hear your sweet voice that his missed dearly. He listened out for your heartbeat, the one he’d memorised during those late nights spent together.

It had been months since you had left. He willed himself to be alright, convinced himself that it was the best decision. Yet every night like clockwork he listened out for you, praying that you would walk through the door. His apartment was filled with broken memories of you. The night you stayed up dancing in the kitchen, even though you both had to be up early for work. Patching Matt up after his late night fight that you made him promise to be careful on. You’d always hated when he went on patrol, you hated his carelessness, the idea of losing him was too much for you.

He wonders if it still is. He needs it to be. He needs to know that he crosses your mind as much as you play around his. His fingers twitched again. His fingers absentmindedly traced of the curves of the phone. He tried to stay strong, he really did, but since the day you left, it was harder to breath. He was drowning without you, his saving grace in a world on fire.

His thumb hovered over your number, it was the one contact he’d made sure he could find. Another moment passed, doubts and questions danced around his head. How many times had he told himself not to do this? To move on? As he debated the clock ticked louder, more insistent. He pressed his thumb down, calling your number before he could put the phone away.

The ringing seemed to last a lifetime. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted you to answer. Maybe listening to your voicemail would be more merciful. But the he heard the soft click on the other end.

“Hello?”

Your voice was like a gentle caress. It was quiet and groggy, it made his heart clench. His jaw tightened, suddenly unsure of what to say. it had been months since he had heard your sweet voice, but in this moment, it felt like you had never left.

“Hey…” His voice was barely a whisper, he was afraid if he spoke any louder it would shatter the fragile connection. “It's me.”

You paused. He could almost hear the thoughts in your head. He could picture you sitting up in bed, the light from your phone casting shadows your perfect face.

“Matt?” You asked, although you already know the answer.

He closed his eyes, hating how much hearing you say his name stirred something deep inside him. “Yeah,” He breathed out, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s late. I just…I just needed to hear your voice.”

Another silent moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You were just grateful he was alive, you knew how his nights are.

“I miss you.” He admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You sighed softly on the other end. It was a reassurance that this time spent apart was as hard for him as it was for you. His words felt like the sunshine after the storm. “I miss you too.”

That was all he needed to hear, his prayers had been answered.

The pain had eased just a little. Maybe tomorrow Matt would regret this call. Maybe it would make things harder, but right now it was all he could ask for.

It wasn’t a promise, wasn’t a chance. It was those four words that were guiding him above water. And hopefully one day, back to shore.

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[moonandst4rs]

“She’s always a woman to me”

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Masterlist

AARON HOTCHNER X F!READER

WC: 673

Summary: Aaron sees you for you. He sees the woman behind the job

Warnings / Content: Inspired by She's always a woman - Billy Joel. no use of y/n, no dialogue

A/N: Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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Being a woman is hard. Being a woman in power, working as a Section Chief in the FBI only magnifies the weight you carry. It isn’t just the job, it’s about navigating Bureaucratic nonsense. You have to balance authority with expectations, from yourself and others. Five teams. Five different teams of personalities, skills and egos yjay you have to manage day in and day out. Some are polite and show you respect—others, not so much. Aaron Hotchner’s team, to their credit, are professional. Mostly.

You’ve grown tough over the years. You had to. The world doesn’t let women in your position be soft without paying the price. If you’d let yourself be trampled, ignored, or undermined even once, you wouldn’t be here now, standing tall as Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The toughness, it isn’t armour, it’s more like something you’ve learned to carry with grace. You got here by knowing exactly when to hold your ground and when to bend, ever so slightly, so the world doesn’t break you. From a wide-eyed field agent to Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you’ve learned that balance. And you’ve learned how to carry the weight of other people’s lives along the way.

You do your job well. You’re proud of that. You make decisions not just for today, but for the future, for the safety of your agents, your teams. You’re steady, calm under pressure, always managing to keep the pieces from falling apart. You have to. But not everyone sees it that way. For some, you’ll always be the one in the way, the one enforcing rules they don’t want to follow. They call you harsh, cold, rigid. They talk about how you won’t let them work however they want. They forget there’s a reason the rules are there, a reason you stand so firm.

The names they call you, the insults, the accusations, they don’t hurt like they used to. There was a time when you’d lie awake at night, wondering if they were right. Now, you barely blink when they throw words your way. If anything, you’ve become somewhat detached, wishing, in a darkly amused way, that they would at least get creative. Give you something new to roll your eyes at. You’ve heard it all before. The same tired jabs, the same predictable bitterness. They don’t know how strong you really are, and they never will. Not the way Aaron does.

Aaron. He’s always there, quietly watching. He knows you can take it, he knows you’ve taken far worse, and that you’ll keep taking it because you refuse to let them see you falter. But even so, he insisted stepping in. Not always, and not in ways that make a scene, but it was enough. Enough to remind you that you don’t have to fight every battle alone. He challenges the ones who disrespect you when you’re not looking, stands by you when the weight of the world starts to feel a little too heavy. And even though you never asked for his protection, you’ve come to realize it’s something more. Something softer, something that breaks through the noise and makes you feel…seen.

You never wanted anyone to fight for you. You don’t need it. You’ve spent your life proving that you’re more than capable of fighting for yourself. But Aaron doesn’t fight to save you; he fights to remind you that you’re worth protecting. And in those moments, when his quiet strength meets yours, you realize just how much that means to you. More than you’d ever let on.

Despite everything, the long nights, the endless pushback, the harsh words, you keep going. Not because you’re unbreakable, but because you know what’s at stake. You fight for your teams because they deserve it. You stand firm because that’s who you are, and because you believe in the work you do, even when others don’t see it. And maybe, just maybe, because you know that there’s someone, someone like Aaron, who sees the woman behind the title.

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[moonandst4rs]

Frank Castle Moodboard

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Frank Castle my beloved <3

Masterlist

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[moonandst4rs]

"Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me"

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X GN!READER

WC: 894

Summary: Dean thinks you're too good for this life, and him

Warnings / Content: Inspired by Angels like you by Miley Cyrus, Angst and fluff, no use of y/n,

A/N: Feel free to request of simply just chat !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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Dean Winchester sat behind the wheel of the Impala, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel though the car wasn’t going anywhere. The night was still and quiet, the only sound coming from the faint crackling of the fire outside. Beside him, you sat in the passenger seat, the soft glow of the dashboard lighting your features, calm and thoughtful as you stared out the window at the stars.

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He was tired, more than he’d ever admit out loud. Tired of running, of fighting, of losing everyone that ever meant anything to him. And then there was you—sitting there like a beacon in the middle of all his mess, like you didn’t belong in the darkness he lived in.

“Ever think you’re in the wrong place?” Dean’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness of the night like a knife.

You glanced over, brow furrowing as you caught the meaning behind his words. “What are you talking about?”

Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the fire. “I mean, this life. All of it. The hunting, the danger, the…” He hesitated, swallowing hard before forcing the words out. “The damage. You could do better, you know? Be somewhere better. Someone better.”

The silence that followed felt thick, like the air was holding its breath. You didn’t answer right away, didn’t rush to fill the space, and that made Dean’s chest tighten even more. He almost regretted saying it—almost. But deep down, he knew it needed to be said.

Finally, you stood up, brushing the dirt off your hands. You took a few steps toward him until you were standing right in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable. “You’re really going to try to push me away now? After everything?”

Dean forced a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just saying, maybe you’re too good for this crap. For me.” He avoided your gaze as if he was afraid of what he’d see.

You stared at him, your gaze unwavering as the weight of his words settled between you. The wind picked up again, s small reminder that the world that the world still moved, even in times where it felt like time came to a halt. The soft hum of the night continued, but you were all to focused on the man next to you.

“You don’t get to decide where i belong, Dean.” You replied quietly, although there was determination behind your words. You take another moment to analyse his body language, the way his jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the way his eyes kept darting around in silent wait. “You think I’m too good for this life, for you? You really believe that?”

Dean opened his mouth but no words came out. His eyes flickered, as if he was caught between holding it all in and letting something out that he wasn’t ready to face. You could see it, the pain behind his eyes, the weight of his past. His mistakes and losses had worn him down, carved cracks into his heart that he tried to cover up with false confidence. But you had seen through it long ago.

You moved your hand to hold his, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re not perfect, neither am i. But that doesn’t mean that you get to decide what I’m worth or what i deserve.” Your words were firm, a quiet challenge, but there wasn’t any anger in them, only honesty.

Dean shook his head lightly, a bitter smile tugging of his lips. “You deserve a normal life. Not this—”

“Who said I wanted normal?” You cut him off, a faint smile playing on your lips now. “I chose this Dean. I chose you. I don’t want a life where I’m sat behind a picket fence wondering where the hell you are, if you’re okay, if you’re out fighting on your own.”

The silence settled between you again, but this time is wasn’t as heavy. It was filled with something else, an understanding a quiet acceptance. Dean’s hand tightened on the steering wheel for a moment, his knuckles paleng before he let go, exhaling a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. His gaze shifted to you, the intensity as if he was trying to find the right words, the right way to let you in without breaking himself apart in the process.

“I’m scared,” He finally admitted, his voice so low it almost blended with the night. “Not for me, for you, i don’t want to lose you.”

You squeezed his hand again feeling the tension in his fingers, the tremor underneath. “You’re not gonna lose me Dean. Not unless you keep pushing me away.”

For the first time that night, Dean’s eyes softened, the walls he’d built so high beginning to crumble. He nodded, not trusting his voice, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now, like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe it.

And in that quiet moment, with stars above and the wind howling, something shifted between the two of you, something unspoken but deeply understood. You weren’t going anywhere, and for now that’s all he needed to know.

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