#deathfics

Also me: I love it when characters are hurt. I want them in pain. I need them writhing around on the floor. I need them bloody and beaten and abused. Ruin then physically, mentally, emotionally. Destroy them, hurt them, wreck them. Be violent, do—

Also also me: kill them. Kill them and make the others pick up the pieces. Make them die in their arms and close their eyes and take their last breath as the world fades away. Free them from this mortal coil of suffering and project that onto the others. Murder then. Make them die. Kill—

Pairing : Death, Reader

Word count : 187

Prompt : @writing-prompt-s - “This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!” screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour.

You were waiting for Dean in the motel. He had swore he wouldn’t take too long, but it had been hours. You were tired of waiting, and you couldn’t wait anymore if you wanted to. So you walked out, and headed for where he had told you he’d be.

As soon as you stepped into the place, looking around confused, you saw him sitting there, eating. “You.” You growled. “Where the hell is Dean?”

Turning, Death looked you up and down. “He’s busy.”

“I need him. Bring him back.” You groaned.

“If he stops what he is doing, he loses the bet. And he doesn’t get Sam’s soul. You can wait.”

“Look, you son of a bitch-” you started, but were cut off by the gush of water. “No. No. Fuck. Get me Dean. Now! Or you’re delivering this baby.”

“This is not my job.” He scoffed and shook his head. “This is the exact opposite of my job!”

You grabbed him by the collar and growled through the pain of a contraction. “Look, asshole, you’re all I fucking have right now, and this kid ain’t waiting.”

Do you ever think about those who are left in the wake of time loops who ended badly??

I purposely seek out fics which make me burst into tears.

when i'm bored and i want to cry,

i reread those deathfics again and again and again

and the result is still the same