#( says it while bleeding ... nah not bleeding. it just tickles. )

[pearlzier]

you look so pitiful right now. you're tucked into your boyfriend's arm, staring blankly at the phone in front of you as you attempt to ignore the aching pains filling your entire body. god, period's fucking sucked. you felt like hell, and even if chris didn't want to make it all about himself—seeing you so distraught made his heart ache in all sorts of dumb ways.

“if i could kick the shit out of your cramps, ma,” he spoke up, careful not to move you, “i would. i'd fuckin’ destroy ‘em.”

a small, faint smile plays on your lips at his words and you subtly shift a little closer, using him as a makeshift heating pad. not like you didn't already have one, but any extra warmth was good. “believe me, you'd have a hard time trying to get past me beating the shit out of them,” your words are lazy, a tiny bit uncomfortable to get out. this only makes chris whine a little more and he nuzzles his head into your shoulder.

“are you sure there's nothing i can do to help? anythin’?” his brows raise, fingers brushing over your arm in a gentle pass. you really can believe you got so lucky to get a guy like this, but you're in a bit too much pain bleeding out for you to uh, register that. “y'know, i heard uh.. a little trade secret, babe.”

you know full well he's gonna say some dumb shit, but you encourage his behaviour almost instantly. “i'm all for it,” you mumble into his arm, brows raising a little.

a little giggle almost instantly slips past his lips and he runs his fingers over your cheek, before he mutters, “period cramps can be relieved in some uh, intimate ways.”

“christopher—” he practically beams as he sees you giggle, and he raises his hands as if to surrender, before he gently shifts you over onto the other side of the bed so he could get up and grab you something to eat from the cabinet.

the man came prepared.

“okay, okay, what d'you want? we got everythin’,” he lifted a packet of chips, eyeing it for a moment before he glanced over at you, “what, as they say, tickles your fancy, huh?” he was such a dork, god. your dork, but still.

your eyes lift to look at the options he has available, and you slowly slink yourself upwards to see them with a little grunt. chris runs a hand through his hair, showing off the food he'd raided from the fridge without matt or nick noticing. “can i..” you frown for a moment, letting the wave of pain pass before you spoke up again, “surprise me, actually, i don't think i have the energy nor brain power to pick.”

“surprise you? gotcha, one sec,” he folded his arms over his chest, blue eyes flickering over the food before he grabbed the little packet of muffins, then grabbed you a drink as well. “these alright? i may be a bit rusty,” a grin plays on his lips, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“nah, you're all good,” you chirp, a smile brightening your face as he very accurately gets your favourite foods correct. “come back, please, i think the cold is seeping back in.”

a self-satisfied smirk tugs at his lips and he makes his way back over, muttering a quick, “too fucking good,” under his breath before he slinks back under the covers beside you, placing the muffins down onto the tray alongside your drink. “comfy?” he asks after a moment, voice a little softer.

“yeah,” you gently place his hand over your tummy to try get some of his warmth before you place your own over the top, sighing gently as you relaxed into his touch. he let his head sit against your shoulder, resting his chin happily.

after a little while, chris notices you fidgeting a little and he gently brings you into his chest and gently grasping at your tummy. “i got you, i got you,” he muttered, plucking your phone from your hands and holding it in one of his so all you had to focus on was holding onto him. laying back against the headboard, he breathes evenly. “just relax. i know it's hard.”

“you're the best, you know that?” you mumbled gently, sighing softly. even when your pain was insane, chris managed keep you relatively sane. your hands slide down to his and you interlace your fingers together, a little smile playing on chris’ lips. “the best.”

“just doin’ what i gotta for my girl,” he shrugs his shoulders gently—”s'no biggie at all.”

☆  𝅄⠀ㅤׂ    also asking who tryna be on the taglist <3

[switchundercover]

Tickletober Day 2: Accidental

A/N: HELLO TUMBLR TK COMMUNITY!! This is my first fic I'm posting on here, with tickletober giving me the motivation I needed to do so!! I've always been lurking in the community ever since I joined it, but I finally thought that it was time to put myself out there! I'm currently OBSESSED with ATSV, so I did a thing with Hobie and Miles bc I love how they interact in the movie! Anyways, I won't bore you with a super long authors note that most people probably won't read, so I hope you enjoy the fic!

Tw: swearing, mention of blood/bleeding out, tickles

——————————————————————————

Hobie slumped onto the couch of his living room, clutching his waist in pain. He had been sent out on a mission, and had got beaten up.. pretty badly to say the least. Despite the insistence that he was fine and 'I've survived worse, I'll be alright', it didn't stop Miles Morales from checking in on him to examine and.. try to heal his wounds.

"Mate.. I'm fine, really." Hobie said, wincing as Miles examined the wound.

"Hobie, you're literally bleeding out." Miles replied, a hint of sass in his voice. Hobie just shrugged, surprising Miles with how nonchalant he was, but he did inhale sharply between his teeth as Miles wrapped up the wound in gauze. Hobie let out a shaky sigh, turning his head away from Miles. Hobie didn't like it when his friends took care of him like this, feeling like he could take care of himself due to being the oldest in the group. He felt it was childish of him to ask his younger friends for help, when he knew that they had to deal with the same, if not worse, pain.

Hobie's body flashed a few colours, the colour around his waist being relatively normal so Miles could see and tend to the wound better. The rest of his body was a muted gray, small bits of a blood red colour appearing on his body like paint splatters whenever Hobie would wince from the pain, the colours eventually fizzling back out into the gray. To anyone who didn't know Hobie, it was an oddly pretty spectacle (despite it being at Hobie's expense), but to those closest to him, it was relatively normal, so it didn't distract Miles from the task at hand; which was making sure Hobie didn't bleed out and die.

After the bulk of the treatment was finished, Hobie melted into his couch, feeling a bit more relaxed after the more painful part of the process was dealt with. Now, Miles was just examining his torso, making sure there were no other major wounds. The feeling was relatively calming, feeling like a sort of massage. Miles' fingers were quick to examine Hobie's torso, now examining his ribs to see if any of the bones had cracked. What Miles didn't expect was the sharp intake of breath that came from the punk, the spot that Miles touched flashing to a more neon shade of yellow for a brief moment before returning back to normal.

"O-oh, sorry- did I hurt you..?" Miles asked, a bit of shame in his tone. Miles looked at Hobie with a worried expression, afraid he might've caused more damage.

The usually cool and collected Hobie stammered for a moment before shaking his head, making up an excuse from the top of his head. "Nah, you're fine mate. Just wasn't really expecting it 's all." Hobie replied, that yellow colour on his ribs returning as if it was disagreeing with what Hobie said.

Miles noticed the flash of yellow, not exactly knowing what it meant. He knew that if Hobie's body was blue, it meant he was sad, pink meant platonic love (his body would be a brighter red if he was around someone he loved romantically), and many, many other different colours and meanings that Miles had memorized due to knowing Hobie for a good while. This yellow was new, something that Miles had never seen before. Miles thought he might've been reading to much into this, so he just gave Hobie a small hum in response and continued his examination.

Hobie's body stiffened slightly as Miles went back to examining his ribs, feeling an unbearably ticklish feeling every single time Miles' fingers would lightly press against the bones, checking for any painful reaction. The yellow colour only being on Hobie's ribs definitely eluded to.. something, Miles wasn't sure, but the colour made Miles somewhat worried. Miles withdrew his hands, a small frown on his face as he looked at his friend with concern.

"Hobie, if it hurts you need to tell me. I don't wanna make it worse." Miles fretted, his tone being concerned and a bit scared for his friend. Hobie felt a little bad that his stifled ticklish reactions made Miles worried, but.. it was still extremely embarrassing to him, so Hobie shook his head, dismissing Miles' worries.

"I'm fine. Don't worry 'bout it. You worry to much bruv." Hobie chuckled, his teeth clicking against his tongue piercing out of slight nervousness. Miles raised an eyebrow, inching his hand closer to Hobie's ribs, but not touching them just yet. Hobie's reaction immediately became apparent, the punk flinching away from Miles' hand, and the yellow colour on his body spreading slightly. Miles was confused. If it didn't hurt, what was the issue? Miles thought of himself in Hobie's situation for a moment, being injured and having a friend of his checking for injuries. He thought of somebody's hand pressing against his ribs, slightly pressing against the bone to see if they were hurt. Miles' eyes immediately widened at the realization, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"Oi, what're you bein' all smug about?" Hobie questioned, his body stiffening slightly as he pointed an accusing finger at Miles. Hobie figured that Miles had found out why he was reacting in the way that he did, and as a result of this, a small bit of red crept up onto his face, and the yellow along his ribs spread and became a bit brighter.

Miles couldn't stop himself from giggling, finding the situation incredibly amusing. "Oh, it's nothing.." Miles quickly darted a hand to Hobie's ribs before pulling it away just as fast, grinning as Hobie's body jumped away from it and an essence of a screech escaped his lips.

"Y-you wouldn't do.. that to me! I'm injured man, you'll kill me!" Hobie argued, narrowing his eyes as he found it a bit harder to keep his cool.

"Relax! I'll be gentle!" Miles said, his giggles getting louder as his hand made contact with Hobie's torso. Miles smirked at the way Hobie's body tensed up, and the slightest hint of a squeak made it's way past Hobie's closed lips. Miles slowly, and I mean slowly dragged his fingers along Hobie's ribs, the punk inhaling sharply as a result.

"Miles! Fuck- stop that!" Hobie yelped, the tiniest giggle slipping through his gritted teeth. Hobie's pleas were only met with a huge grin from Miles, who immediately capitalized off of that small giggle by pressing his fingers against Hobie's ribs and vibrating his fingers rapidly. In Miles' eyes, this was gentle, as he knew Hobie had a hell of a lot of resistance when it came to touch. Wether it be pain, or in this case, tickles.

"MAHAHAHAILES-! STAHAHAHAHAHAP- NAHAHAHAHAHAHA FAHAHAHAHACK-!" Hobie screeched, his attempt to squeal out a plea immediately replaced with more bouts of loud laughter when Miles decided it would be a good idea to use a small amount of his venom power to shock Hobie, the unbearably ticklish feeling traveling across Hobie's entire torso. Miles giggled and let up, allowing Hobie to actually breath. Miles snuck an extra pinch to his ribs, grinning at the small yelp that came out of the punk.

"Alright, I'm done. Don't want you getting hurt.. more than you already are.. you good?" Miles asked, Hobie responding with a shaky thumbs up. "Y-yeah.. 'm fine mate.. holy shihihit." Hobie chuckled, the tingly feeling from the venom still present. Throughout the entire ordeal, Hobie's body changed colour completely, going from gray with those hints of yellow (which Miles was now suspecting ment Hobie was embarrassed about something), to a full blown pink, with occasional flashes of the familiar yellow colour here and there.

Miles chuckled and stood up, going to the kitchen to get Hobie some water. Miles quickly returned, offering the water to Hobie, who drank it so fast you'd be convinced there was nothing in the cup in the first place.

"Thanks Miles.. you know, for tendin' to my injuries and whatever. 'S nice of you." Hobie said, sighing as he let out one final giggle. Miles smiled, loving the fact that he left a positive impact on Hobie's well-being. "Well, I feel like it's kind of.. in my nature to care about the people I love, so you're welcome." Miles replied, his smile growing a bit wider.

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie?" Miles suddenly asked, looking at Hobie.

"Sure, what're you thinkin' of?"

And so Hobie and Miles lazily draped their bodies over Hobie's semi-comfortable couch, watching a movie on some probably illegal website. Hobie couldn't shake the small smile that was on his face, the knowing that Miles, and all of his friends for that matter, would be there for him making him feel all warm inside. Miles caught a quick glimpse of Hobie, seeing that the pink colour on Hobie's body got a bit brighter.

And personally, Miles wouldn't have it any other way.

[rvby]

peanuts to polly (down down left down don't look up)

`count. two. three. block. grab. pull. twist. slam. he grins up at big boss. waiting for… not praise. acknowledgement. that’s good enough for him.` 

`he merely watches. his one eye piercing their intertwined forms, reading each detail with each passing second. he’ll have comments. critiques and criticisms. too slow, too fast, wrong prediction. more than anything, keep to form. he raises his hand, and fox gets up. doesn’t bother helping snake up. he stands at attention. obedient as always.` dismissed. `that’s all he has to say to fox. not so much as a sparing glance in his direction. and yet, it’s good enough.` 

`no, his dear boss’s attention is stolen away by miller, snappy and crude. a glare to null and a mouthful to the boss. yet fox’s smile sneaks its way upon his lips, satisfied more with how he pricks at the other.` 

`snake groans, still slow to get up. it’s different from how they usually fight. eyes usually wild and free turn to a pinpoint, focused and sharp. it’s a show of domination—he feels like a joke. a long way to go, sure, but that’s not anything like this. being toyed with. bruises and scrapes and split skin all tell him that he must have fucked something up, in the eyes of those who wanted this. he coughs, settling for sitting.` fox. `it’s just the two of them now, so far as he thinks.` what the fuck. 

`but his gaze doesn’t turn from where big boss and miller’s forms had last been before turning the corner. it lingers. you wanna follow that bad? i know i can’t.` least i didn’t kill you. `said so plainly. echoed, almost, with how his attention is turned away. words you can’t take seriously in a tone you can.` 

did you want to? `accusatory, annoyed. he can’t help himself, embarrassment and frustration and everything bleeding out of each radiating wound. he’s running on nothing with a high of unusable energy and if he wasn’t holding back his tongue to at least keep from getting another beating, he’d be snapping too.` 

`yes, no, maybe so. but who are you kidding, you won’t. god, it feels like tumbling in loops, somersaulting to no end chasing after their own tail.` nah. `at least look at him when we’re talking. why should i?` just saying. `fucking miserable.` 

`the huff he gets from snake in response makes him want to laugh. feels it bubble in reaction, painful with no outlet. he doesn’t laugh.` thought that wasn’t the point of this. 

`he bites down on his tongue. no revelry in bragging; come on, keep count. 0, for the love of god, 0.` it’s not. doesn’t mean i couldn’t. `doesn’t mean i haven’t. and isn’t that just reassuring... hey, when’s the last time we didn’t kill on a job, huh?`  

right. `he always feels three steps behind when it comes to fox. gossip muddying lies and truth, and the source isn’t of any more help himself.` then thanks. `dryly. his bite of sarcasm. is dignity so hard to come by these days? grace?` 

`he stretches with a roll of his shoulders. crack of the neck. could use a smoke. winding down. he needs things to loosen up already. tie down? funny how it could be both.` hey, you asked for it. `easing his way around it all. he prods at the damage, tickling his mind. fuck, he wishes it could be a knife cutting down his spine instead.` remember? `bold words coming from a guy who can’t keep yesterday and a decade ago straight in his mind.` 

what? `no, he doesn’t particularly remember asking fox to beat his ass half to death in front of big boss and miller. it sits with enough specificity to beg for clarification.` are you- 

you know. `he’s relatively clean compared to snake. null wouldn’t mess up like that, after all. not while the boss was watching. but holding back isn’t exactly easy business either. worse so when you’re begging to get hit.` how you’ve gotten better. `something like that…` 

`a pause. blink. disbelief.` so you decided to kick my ass in front of big boss. `and another groan.` he already gives me enough shit about my cqc. 

can’t let you get cocky. `not a hint of pity in his voice. the opposite, it touches pride. all the while, it feels like he’s fighting a pool of molasses. it takes an era to finally turn to look at snake. seconds are minutes and minutes are days and god can’t you go any faster? it takes only a second to grin at him.` you still leave holes in your form. i wouldn’t even let you out on a mission like that. 

`he runs a hand through his hair. fox has the itch to mirror it, not that he can. would if it didn’t feel like moving was going to take an extra six years to manage right now. come on, come on now. washed around like a wave, waiting for the tide to come in once more.` you couldn’t give me a vote of confidence? 

`at least the breathed laugh comes easier now.` all that’d do is get you killed. gotta be confident, not cocky. it’s never over until it’s over. 

`as if challenged by the concept, he jumps up to try to get another sloppy hit on fox. “until it’s over?” it’s never over until one of them is dead, right?` oh yeah? 

`it’s showy. nothing serious behind it but to show he’ll still try. pathetic. he grabs him arm easily, one hand and then another. pull. kick. when he looks down at snake, he’s grinning like it’s no one’s business.` yeah. `he can’t help but like the way he hears snake’s breath knocked out of his lungs with a sputter.` 

fuck, fox. `even for a move they both call a joke, he doesn’t pull his punches. it’s the same spot as another hit from earlier. pinpoint precision. and yet, even he can tell there’s less behind it. even for a knee to the ribs, it feels like nothing compared to his other hits before. there really was something different about that fight, about the way fox looked at him while big boss loomed over them both. of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t left coughing out his breath, doubled over on the ground again, but it tells him an extra bit about him that he knows fox’d never admit himself.` it’s not like you don’t take a few hits yourself. `good as he might be, he isn’t perfect. he's come back to base with new wounds, new scars. proof of battle.`  

`all he gets for the accusation is a shrug. the same nonchalance that fox usually wears before the rest of foxhound. the impact shocked his system back to time, but even still, he just knows null’s complaining. he isn’t too inclined to pay attention.` hey, do as i say, not as i do. right? 

`grumpy, for it all.` i don’t hear the boss complaining about how you fight. 

`it’s good to be real again. he drops to the ground, sitting casually by where snake opts to collapse on the floor in an exhausted heap. he’s going to be feeling this for days, definitely.` just ‘cause you don’t see it doesn’t mean he doesn’t. `a hum. perhaps he thinks upon it a touch too fondly.` he could still kick my ass six ways to sunday. `ha!` still does. `and it’s fun every time.` 

`he waves his hand vaguely in following.` ‘sides, he knows we’ll get the job done. but you’re still a rookie for a reason. 

`god, he has to get better to knock fox’s smug face on his ass if nothing else.` i can’t prove myself if you guys won’t get me an assignment. 

hey, i don’t have a say in it. `hands up in childish innocence. technically, they could have a say in it. they merely… don’t. choose not to, for more reasons than one.` take it up with campbell.  

i can’t. `ugh.` i’m not cleared to go on missions yet.  

tough break then, rookie. `his quiet laugh is nothing short of haunting. mocking.` guess you’ve gotta beat me first. 

`a lift of his head to glare at fox before he drops it back down in defeat.` great. `because that’s so easy. especially when he’s like that.` can’t wait. 

`he matches his look with all teeth and too much teasing.` looking forward to it. just try not to die before then. 

conversation (up to forward)

if you asked me how much, for anything, i’d probably tell you something like. i don’t know. a pack of cigs and a free light, maybe.

what, anything? really?

yeah, sure. try me.

`snake just looks at him. not really in disbelief, but just in amused doubt. as much as he doesn’t believe it, he also wouldn’t really put it past fox to have his standards that low. they sit in silence together as he tries to think of something fox definitely wouldn’t do. ...he can’t really think of anything.` i don’t know. `it’s kind of weird to admit.`

exactly. `he points his cigarette snake’s way. like he made a real smart point or something.`

`funny.` you know, that isn’t really something to brag about. `when he breathes out, he isn’t sure of that himself.`

why not.

`why does he have to say it like that. like he’s stupid for thinking otherwise.` pretty damn good way to get yourself court martialed over some bullshit. `he has a feeling fox doesn’t really care about that.`

`he’d be right.` they wouldn’t bother.

`so much confidence in it. there’s a lot he’s got to wonder about gray fox. about his connections. his work. who he even is. would he really be able to do anything and get away with it? as crazy of an idea as it might be, snake’s hard-pressed to find a reason not to believe him, even if he is just bluffing.` so what, a pack of cigs and a light for a nuke over cuba?

`the edge of his lip curls up into a grin. like snake’s managed to stumble upon the right answer for an otherwise answerless question.` sure. `when he breathes out, all that’s there is smoke. naomi doesn’t like when he smokes around her. says it’ll kill him someday. like he isn’t off at war every chance he can get. like he isn’t hoping it’ll do it faster.` why not.

i dunno fox. that’s a lot of people dead. whole place knocked off the map in one go. you really wouldn’t care?

would you?

`quick. sharp. he turns the question back on snake. somehow, it feels like saying yes here is the wrong answer. like caring about the death of millions is something bad. something he’s not supposed to do.` i think i would. `he answers anyway. there’s no real right or wrong here, no real judgment. it’s just him, gray fox, and the not-so-silent night.`

i wouldn’t. `the obvious answer.` bet i’d care more about getting a smoke.

`sounds about right. snake takes the cigarette from his own lips. offers it to fox between his fingers. when he feels the touch of chapped lips against his skin he tries not to think too hard about what it means.` they say you only take lethal missions. `like there aren’t a million different rumors about fox running around foxhound at any given moment. a man who seems so knowable, yet remains shrouded in mystery to them all.` that true?

`when he looks down at his hand, all he sees are scars. he couldn’t name any of them if he tried.` probably. `a non-answer. evasive. he can’t do any better than that.`

`at this point, he’s used to it. ‘probably’ is a pretty common result on the ‘gray fox answer scale.’ other options include ‘i don’t know’ and ‘maybe’ and any other variation of the aforementioned. anything more definitive is a surprise, really.` probably. `he repeats it, as if repeating it would do him any good in deciphering the truth from under each letter. hums, as if thinking about it just that extra second would reveal something new.` guess it’s not a big deal then. `killing, he means.`

`honestly, he doesn’t know. does it matter to him? does he feel anything, when he wakes up to blood on his hands and god, is that really what a human looks like? it looks different from when it’s right underneath you, feeling every twitch of flesh and muscle and bone give way to power. he doesn’t really like looking at it. it’s just plain strange. ‘sorry.’ who is he apologizing to? they can all kill at least, even if they don’t like it. they definitely don’t relish in it, like some people they know. they just do what they have to. what they’re supposed to? he doesn’t really notice whenever it is he puts his cigarette out on his forearm again. just knows when it burns and sears into his skin and he remembers he was having a conversation. there sure isn’t a number he’s gotta be counting, anyway.` nah. `smooth as ever, despite the pain.` just part of the job.

`right.` part of the job. `there’s a difference in all the killing, he likes to think. there’s watching the lights dim in the eyes that only get one last glance at you before flickering out entirely. close up and personal. you’d think that’d be the worst—knowing you’re doing the job yourself. that you did this. but no. he’ll take it to the mass slaughter under fire. to shooting without even seeing the enemy as anything but animals brought for the butchering. he’ll take it to watching the dead on the news. under the headlines. so far away he knows it has nothing to do with him, but he’s got a part in it too, doesn’t he? how much is your fault, even when you don’t pull the trigger? how much is your fault when you do? does it redeem you, to know the one you’re killing is a human, at least?`

`an amused breath. he slaps snake on the back—always harder than he thinks he is. the wave of his arm is of lingering smoke and burning flesh. snake’s long since stopped asking if he should take care of that. his smile is teasing.` you’re too soft, rookie. i don’t know how you made it in.

hey- `he can’t even be annoyed at the statement. any argument would land him on the dirt with a new bruise to nurse and another point proven.` i’m getting better. `a huff.`

yeah? say that to big boss tomorrow morning. `what a shit-eating grin...`

`he lets out a low grumble. not something he wants to think about right now, as much as he should probably be heading to sleep to actually prep for that.` what, so he can kick my ass even harder? `a roll of his eyes.` no thanks.

i don’t know~ `the tone of a certain someone getting what is almost assuredly a terrible idea.`

fox. `an idea that he has a sense of already and very much does not like.`

aw, come on, rook. i didn’t even say anything yet. `trying to keep his laugh from ringing too loud just leaves snake on the other side of some otherwise ominous snickering.` don’t get your panties in a twist. `he nudges snake—too hard, again, for his own good.`

`he just shakes his head as he straightens himself out with a stretch.` you’re an ass, you know that?

and i got a nice one too. `a wink as he slaps his own ass.` your point?

`ugh.` i’m not convincing you out of this, am i.

nope. `his skin burns open again. same spot as before. last one of the night. maybe he’ll wrap it when he’s back inside. more likely that he won’t. idiot.`

`he gets the signal enough. he was lucky to bum a smoke off of fox tonight.` just don’t get me killed.

`tall task. he waves the request off.` no promises.

`another grumble.` great.

[zeteth]

imagine dragging the monster trio to a wedding

I'm back at it again, with more headcannons, because I just don't want to do anything productive. Yey, here we go! (gender neutral) 

(WARNING(S): OOC(because i suck :’’’) )

--luffy--

at first he would whine, but you would use the ultimate weapon, FOOD!!

luffy eyes would widen and he would agree with you, only to regret it afterwards

when you said free food, all that came to mind was meat, but there were only "adult' food there

(seriously, who made sweet gravy?)

it was your friend that was getting married, so luffy was just a lost puppy the entire time

he didn't know anybody, and he just wanted to eat meat

luffy would try to tickle you to make it fun, but you would push his hands away

he would pout, whine, complain, but you wouldn't budge

finally the wedding actually starts, and luffy couldn't be more bored

he's happy for your friend, but he just simply doesn't care

all that's going through his mind is MEEEEEEEEATTT!!!

after the kiss/sealing/or whatever, he asks if you guys could go home

you say "no" because oh i don't know, maybe you would want to talk to your friend???????

luffy whines again, but you say, "You know what, come and greet them with me."

luffy, having nothing better to do, comes along

you say hi to your friend the groom, and luffy doesn't like it

oh luffy

even though he clearly knows that you are his, and that the groom literally JUST got married, he just can't help but get a little jealous

he sends his little glare at your friend the entire time, but also catches the wife glaring at you

he giggles, and taps on her shoulder

luffy and the bride immediately get along, making jokes, talking about how jealous they are, and just everything

your friend and your conversation come to a stop, to find luffy and the bride getting along very well

you sigh

"Luffy, we're going home."

"Awww, wait a minute, (Y/N)! She's about to show me a meme!"

oh how the tables have turned

--zoro--

zoro, i feel like would go if you asked, but this was a special case

sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yup the wedding was SUPER early in the morning

sure, zoro can wake up, but does he want to?

nah

so, when you wake him up the morning of the wedding, he looks at you with the most dead look in the eye

"What's the point of having a wedding this early in the morning?"

you laugh at him, and tell him to hurry and dress up

you better not leave him alone, he'll just fall back in bed and start snoozing away

once you guys get in the wedding place, he's just dead inside

"Why am I here? I should be in bed right now."

poor zoro

you'll have to try to find some activities to do while waiting for it to start, because if he takes a seat, he'll fall asleep

but once it starts, honestly he's respectful

he tries his hardest to stay awake for it (he might doze off once or twice though)

after everything, you go to talk with the newly wedded couple

i feel like zoro would just be standing there next to you while you talked with them, just staring off into space

he'll be imagining his bed, his sweet, sweet wonderful bed

his warm sheets, fluffy pillow, your warmth just ah~

he'll either somehow take a nap while standing up, or just collapse on the floor (probably the second option, though ngl)

finally, it's time for the bride to throw her bouquet!

a bunch of people (all genders here :) )  gather behind the bride, but you don't

you just think that the throwing of the bouquet is kind of idiotic

oh well, you just wanted to see who would get the bouquet

she throws the bouquet, and somehow...... it lands on zoro's head

I'M NOT KIDDIN (haha you see what i did there? :''') )

everyone thinks it's rigged because... how did that even happen

you laugh at him, and he wakes up and the bouquet falls to his hands

as you leave together, you jokingly say

"So, when's the wedding?"

"Yes."

--sanji--

"OF COURSE I WILL, (Y/N)-KWUN/CHWAN~~~~!!!”

this simp

this absolute simp

honestly, you actually didn’t have to drag him along, he went willingly

when you get into your suit/dress/whatever you wear at a wedding, nosE BLEEDS

NOSE BLEEDS EVERYWHERE

the only bad part about him going is him insulting the food that was offered to the guests

“There are so many ladies here, and thEY HAVE THE NERVE TO SERVE THIS??”

“Sanji, calm down.”

he would storm the kitchen, and start lecturing the cooks

you’d probably have to drag him out of the kitchen, trying to convince him to spare the cooks for the day

reluctantly, he would let you persuade him, but for a price ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

*ahem* a-anyhow, during the main event, he’ll be the most respectful person the earth

he would hold our hand while the groom and bride kiss and congratulate them after words even if he didn’t know who they were

if you converse too much with the groom and get a little touchy (as in a hug), he’ll get jealous 

the dance party would be a blast!

you and sanji would be the best couple at dancing whether it would be just absolutely animalistic, or just classical dancing 

honestly, y’all are just cute

Phew! Another one done! I’m actually really lazy on uploading on my blog, so please give me some asks to boost it. Thanks once again, and I’ll see y’all later! Peace out!

[arrowflier]

i think a really good prompt would be mickey just struggling mentally so Ian just takes care of him/holds him/ pampers him etc

"Hey, Mickey," Ian called out as he came in the front door. "Jill and Alan just invited us out for drinks, grab your coat."

No response.

"Mickey?" Ian tried again. He went further into the apartment, poked his head around the corner into the living room.

Mickey was there, ensconced on the sofa, propped up by the matching pillow set he had insisted on buying when they got their new furniture.

"It's the atmosphere, Ian," he'd tried to explain while comparing shades of blue and green. "Should have known you wouldn't get it after the fucking chair disaster."

Ian did get it, though. It was about having things under control, making it theirs. About things they got to choose, to have, and fuck anybody that tried to say different.

Ian usually loved seeing Mickey cuddled up with soft things he had chosen for himself, for them. Any other day, he might join him, sit on the other side of the wide sofa and let their legs overlap.

But right now they had places to be, and Mickey needed to get his ass up.

So Ian went to the sofa and leaned over the back, tugging one of the pillows out from behind Mickey.

Mickey fell backwards with a curse, and a withering glare aimed at Ian. Ian ignored it.

"Come on, get up you lazy grump," Ian prompted. "Didn't you hear me? We've got plans, and we're gonna be late."

"Heard you fine," Mickey muttered, and snatched back the pillow, holding it to his chest with crossed arms. "Not goin'."

Ian frowned. "What do you mean you're not going?" he asked. "We talked about this, Mick, we can't just sit around every night and--"

"I had a bad fuckin' day, alright?" Mickey yelled over him. "Jesus, Gallagher, read the fucking room."

Oh.

Ian stopped talking.

He looked closer, saw the way his husband's hands were tight on the soft pillow, skin white around rough black tattoos. He saw the way Mickey's eyes were shining, just a little, in the too-bright overhead lights that Ian kept promising to get a dimmer switch for. The way his mouth turned down at the corners, and not the way it did when he was trying to be tough--no, this was how Mickey's mouth looked when he couldn't decide if he wanted to beat the shit out of something or take a shower so he could pretend he wasn't crying.

Fuck.

Mickey's eyes were fixed on the opposite end of the sofa. The empty end, where Ian usually sat. He didn't look up when Ian quietly kicked his shoes off, or when Ian walked backward into the bedroom. He didn't look up when Ian returned, either, holding a disgustingly fluffy blanket that Mickey claimed gave him hives on sight.

But he looked up when Ian rounded the sofa to stop in front of him.

"Still not going, Gallagher," he said, and Ian just nodded.

"I know," Ian said. "That's ok."

He tucked the soft blanket around Mickey's legs, ignoring the faint eye roll he got for the action.

"So, what," Mickey asked. "You just gonna get me settled in and take off for that drink?"

He was trying to sound like he didn't care, but Ian had known him long enough to hear the thready tone in his voice.

"Nah," Ian said, nonchalant. "Think I'll stay here with you."

He nudged at Mickey's side until he sat up, then squeezed himself in behind him. They shuffled around for a moment, trying not to hurt each other with errant knees and elbows, until Mickey was finally settled half sideways between Ian's legs, leaning back against him with Ian's arms wrapped around his waist.

"Don't have to do this, man," Mickey tried, but he sounded too relieved for it to be true. "I know how important making friends here is to you, you should go."

Of course he didn't have to. Just like Mickey didn't have to stay by his bedside when he was down, or make him soup when he was sick.

They didn't do this because they had to. They did this because they could. Just like fancy pillows and gold chairs and rings on their fingers, they did it because it was them.

But Ian didn't say any of that. Mickey knew it all already.

"Shut up," Ian ordered instead. "Jill and Alan can deal with it, just...shut up and let me hold you."

And with a sigh Ian wasn't supposed to hear, Mickey did.

"Wanna talk about it?" Ian offered later, when Mickey had relaxed against him completely, tension bleeding out of his body as Ian's warmth worked its way in.

Mickey paused in tracing the freckles on Ian's arm where it was wrapped around him, then let his finger continue it's path down to Ian's hand. He laced their hands together, silver rings clicking when they met.

"Not really," he answered lowly. "Kinda just wanna sit here a while."

He tilted his head, almost but not quite enough to meet Ian's eyes.

"That okay?" he murmured, his breath tickling Ian's neck.

"Yeah, Mick," Ian answered, tightening his hold. "Yeah, that's okay."

[whitexwingedxdoves]

Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea​ i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do   🐰 Read Part One Here  Summary:  Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you. You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

-  Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty. 

The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.  

You really did try to focus on the good.

But the pain was blinding. 

“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.

He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.

If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.

You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.

What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.

Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.

The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding. 

Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.

You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.

“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”

The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”

And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.

Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.

“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work. 

You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.

“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back. 

Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.

“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.

More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.

A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.

“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.” 

With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.

You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!” 

In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.

“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.

The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.

“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!” 

That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience. 

That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.

Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books. 

Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Sleep would probably elude you tonight.

Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.

Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window. 

You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.

Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.

“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.

“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.” 

He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.

“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”

You laughed a little too loudly.

“Just my luck,” you shot back.

Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.

“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”

The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly. 

Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill. 

It was a glass bottle of dandelions.

It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.

They looked like sunshine.

“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.

Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.

“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”

That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.

Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.

You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.

Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.

At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers. 

Though, today was a little different. 

Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.

“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands. 

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words. 

The irony tasted so sweet. 

Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.

He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.

You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.

“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.” 

Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself. 

“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.

He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?” 

You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions. 

“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.

You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.

“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”

Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.

“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.

It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving. 

Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been. 

Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.

No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.

“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.

You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them. 

Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.

“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”

Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.

Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.

You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.

You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”

Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.

You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.

“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”

The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.

“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.

No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.

Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.

“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. “I knew you’d come around.”

The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.

“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.

Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house. 

You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.

Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans. 

It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.

It was hers now; it had been since that day.

As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.

He was too damn old for this.

The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.

Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.

 Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.

But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.

But once he did, you beckoned him over.

Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.

“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.

They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.

Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.

-

tags:  @browneyes528​ @phoenixblack89​ @srhxpci​ @jodiereedus22​ @witch-of-letters​ @deadthewalking​

[heyheyloki]

All Because Of You

Summary: The reader goes to find Castiel before the angels get to him.

Castiel x M!Reader

Castiel being human, losing his grace, was perhaps one of the most interesting yet hardest thing you had faced yet. Forget God. Forget Lucifer. Castiel human topped all of those for a simple reason. Now, it was incredibly hard to keep down your own human feelings that had stirred up for him a long time ago, and plus, yanno, all the Angels and Demons on the hunt for this one Angel who rebelled against Heaven and all that.

It's been a few days since you left the bunker to go look for Castiel. Sure, Dean and Sam weren't happy, but you knew you couldn't wait any longer for them. It's been weeks since Castiel went on the run and sitting around doing nothing but worrying about him was not good for your mind. You needed to see him, protect him, and make sure he was safe and by your side.

It took a three days to get to Detroit, the last place anyone saw Castiel or 'Clarence', as he called himself. You got the led from a group of homeless individuals that talked to Cas before he picked up a ride in on a truck that was heading to Detroit. This was probably the hardest part of the search. Lucky for you, growing up with the Winchester boys helped when it came to this kind of situation. Still, with all your skills, it was Detriot. A large city with many people, but the people may be your advantage.

"Excuse me," you hummed out to a man who was currently making burgers on the side of the road. The only thing that led you talking to him was Castiel's vessals love for red meat. Now that he was human, Jimmy was probably talking to him a lot more now. "Have you seen a dark haired, blue hair man around here? He would have probably acted a bit out of it?"

"Uh," the man thought for a moment. "Nah, sorry, no one really comes to mind."

"It's alright, thank you." You sighed, parting from the man and getting back on the move.

You took the rest of the day nonstop looking for Castiel with no leads whatsoever. Person after person either said they didn't remember someone like that, or saw so many people that day that it was impossible to even try to remember one man. This race against the clock was getting harder and harder, and frankly, it was getting irritating. All you wished for was Castiel to be safe. He could be hungry, or homeless--but safe was all you wanted cause in the end you knew you could fix both of this issues--all of his issues-- if you just found him.

As you were deep within your mind to try and make up a new way to find the fallen angel, the rain that touched your skin shoved you back into reality. Your eyes gazed as the raindrops that wet your skin before looking up at the dark clouds that surrounded you. A deep sigh filled with worry released from your lips before taking a few steps forwards. Perhaps those few steps were all you needed. Well, that and the rain. When you took those steps you heard a noise, one that would capture almost anyone’s attention. You paused, stood still before turning your head down an ally that seemed to be behind a restaurant.

Down the dark and rainy ally was a man who wrapped himself with this black hoodie he wore. His hair was soaked, not to mention his clothes, but that freezing cold look in his eyes broke your heart beyond anything you've felt before. The darkness obscured the man's face until you took a few steps down the ally. At first you were going to offer the man some food and direct him to a nearby shelter, but the minute he quickly shot his head up to see who was approaching him, everything changed. No matter how much time apart you have from him, you can never forget his face but you noticed that the first thing to go about a person was their voice. You thought that was the saddest thing to ever exist but when you heard it call out to you of all people, remembering his voice again was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

"[Name]?" Castiel croaked out.

You didn't speak but instead nodded to confirm it was you, and not a part of his imagination.

With the weather, you didn't waste any time to get both Castiel and you some shelter. A few minutes of pretending to be someone else and using another's money got you a relatively small but sufficient apartment for the time being.

When Castiel entered the apartment was dark given the time of day, but you quickly turned on the lights after you shut and locked the front door.

"Wow, it’s beautiful." Castiel commented as he looked around.

"It's an apartment that cost a 2,000 dollar deposit, it better be beautiful." You replied as you began to lock and shut all the entrances which included the windows as well.

Castiel kept his eyes on you as you did so, but when he noticed you were finished with your task he asked, "How did you find me?"

You turned to him and placed your hands into your pockets. "Oh, yanno, all my hunter skills went into work and here I am."

"Why aren't Sam and Dean with you?" He asked curiously.

You sighed at the question before taking a seat on the sofa that was provided with the apartment. "I didn't want to wait around. They thought it was dangerous, and it probably was but I don't know, I just couldn't stand being in that bunker wondering if you’re alive or dead."

Castiel's head went down for a moment, his own human mind now spinning with thoughts he wondered if he would ever have if he was still an angel.

"I apologize for worrying you." He suddenly said in more quiet tone. "That was never my intention."

"I know." You smiled before patting down the space next to you. "Come sit and lemme see what you got there."

Castiel's head went on a tilt before he remembered the wound he had on his left upper arm he got from fighting one of the many angels that were out on the hunt for him. The former angel complied with the request, mostly because of his trust and fondness of you.

When he sat down, you turned towards him and began to unbutton his white shirt after he took off the soaked hoodie. Castiel watched your attentively as you did so. The way your hands played with his shirt and the focus that was seeped deep into your eyes as you did so. Once his shirt was open, you gazed back up and into his eyes. He watched a faint smile, a comforting one, stretched across your lips before slipping the shirt off his shoulders and exposing his entire upper body.

Your eyes shot to the bloody rage he used around his arm, mostly just to stop the bleeding. Worry of an infection took place in your mind, but luckily that didn't seem to be the case.

"Look at you," you whispered. The words catching Castiel's attention quicker than ever before. "You're lucky this isn't infected."

"I suppose so." He replied under his breath as he continued to watch you, never once looking away.

You hovered your finger over the wound that was slanted across his bicep. The fact that it hadn't healed wedging itself into your mind making you say, "You really are human."

"Yes." Castiel said. "The whole experience has been very tiring."

You laughed at that, the chuckle that came from your chest making the former angel experience something that he hasn't before. Sure, he got chills from the cold or rain, but never from a simple laugh.

Next, you began to examine the wound. Overall, it seemed to be healing fine but you really wanted to clean up the dried blood that pooled around the actual cut. So, you grabbed a cotton pad and dabbed some rubbing alcohol on the surface.

"This may sting a bit," you warned Cas before gently patting it against the wound. You watched his face scrunch up a bit as he got used to the stinging sensation. Though, in the end it seemed like he took the pain rather well.

You smiled as you placed the pad on the table next you, your hands picking up some proper bandages before commenting, "You took that better than Dean. You getting used to being human?"

"Ah, it's all new to me. Hunger. Cold." He explained, his eyes meeting yours as he said, "This feeling of being alone."

You stared at Cas for a moment. Yes, he was still the same, and yet so much about him was different. He was learning how to understand human emotions, and after all this time it just took being human to truly get it. To you, it explained how truly complex human emotions were. Something about this Cas pained you in more than words could explain, and for some reason the desire to comfort him was absolutely overwhelming.

"You aren’t alone anymore." You said. Your mind focusing on one action, and one alone. You knew it would disappear until you acted on it, so, you carefully leaned in and gave the man a gentle kiss upon his cheek. The stubble he grew while away tickling your skin. When you backed up, you gave a kind smile and said, "I won't let you be alone, I promise."

Castiel remained silent, yet his eyes remained connected with yours until something clicked in his mind and they darted right down to your soft, vulnerable lips. He would be lying if he said he never studied them before, but right now the urge he wanted to act on for so long was stronger than ever. When he noticed you doing the same, something snapped. Castiel didn't waste any time to lean in and connect his lips with yours. At first, something told him not to rush or else you'd get scared away. So, he waited for you to make the next move and when he felt your lips sensually move against his, his next move was to do the same. At first, he really had no idea how to go about kissing and all he wanted to do was to impress you in the best way he could. So, he mimicked you, but if you had your eyes open and noticed his furrowed brows, you would instinctively tell he had absolutely no idea what was going on. All he knew was that with you, it felt better than he could have ever imagined.

Exploring your body was perhaps one of the best things he had gotten to experience as a human. Everything was so overwhelming in a way that he never would have dreamed. Though, perhaps the best thing about the entire thing was that it was with you. The way your squirmed underneath him, the sounds you made when he pleasured you, not to mention the way you made him feel was something he wouldn't trade up for the world to the point where he felt almost saddened when his body tired out on you.

Both of you laid on your backs, the sheets covering up to your abdomens, with this dazed looks in your eyes. Still, with that look something in your human mind wanted him to say something. Say anything.

You turned your head to him, his gaze still aimed up. "Well? Say something."

Castiel took in a deep breath, his eyes darting around as you noticed him try to think of something until he said, "There aren't words."

You stared at him before turning on your side, your body still facing him. "So, it was okay?"

This was the time Castiel turned to make eye contact with you. His injured arm raised, the palm of his hand against the back of his head. He stared at you for a moment before saying with a small smile, "Very much so."

You smiled a bit to yourself until you noticed his face go from happy to concerned, which prompted you to get a bit more serious for him. After all, you didn't want to make him feel embarrassed.

"Um.." he mumbled out. His eyes darting down and up again in a nervous fashion as he asked, "What I did, that was, uh.. correct?"

You couldn't help a large smile to snake itself across your lips as you nodded with a soft, "Very much so."

"Good," he said with a look that mirrored yours. And the smile he shined was almost designed to make you even more infatuated with him. And that laugh after--God that laugh--hearing it was everything to you.

You stared at him for a moment before calling his name. His head turning to you as your prompted yourself up and into his chest. He couldn't exactly make eye contact with you, but just having you right next to him, especially in this state, was more than he could ask for.

"Before, my promise? I'd like to add on to it." You suddenly said. The words confusing Castiel greatly, after all, the promise you made to him before was like music to his ears. What more could you say that could make him even more of a fool for a human like you?

"You don't have to." Cas said.

"But I want to." You cut him off and took a deep breath. You turned your head a bit, snuggling into him more and giving him a soft, loving kiss on his chest before saying, "I promise to protect you. To the end of the line because you mean more than family to me."

Castiel didn't waste anytime to take his arm around you, holding you closer if that was even possible. The words you spoke probably meant more to him than anything he's heard in his life. After all, with you, it was like you changed him from the inside out in ways that he never even imagined when he first met you.

"I promise as well, [Name]."

[babygirl-diaz]

Uncle Bucky

The noise woke Sam up and he immediately sat up on his bed. Beside him, Steve was up too. “You heard that too, right?” Sam asked. 

There was another noise, and Steve nodded. “Definitely heard that.” 

The two men were up and out of their bed, with Steve grabbing the baseball bat and Sam grabbing his shield. As they made their way downstairs, Sam noticed that the kitchen lights were on and he could hear their daughter’s giggles. Sam’s heart dropped to his stomach when he heard a man’s voice follow Sara’s. Jumping off the banister, Sam took off towards the kitchen, but he stopped in his tracks when he found a familiar face on the floor with his daughter 3-year-old sitting on the person’s lap. 

“Bucky?” Sam called out. 

“Look, papa, it’s Uncle Bucky!” Sara said excitedly and grinned up at him. 

Steve came to a stop next to Sam. “Buck, what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” Bucky replied. 

Sam threw Steve a glance before frowning at their friend. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“I came back from my mission and I just had to come and see her,” Bucky replied, tickling Sara under the chin and making her giggle. 

Steve walked past Sam and got down next to Bucky, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, pal?” 

Bucky’s shoulders fell. Sam finally noticed the bruises and slashes on him. 

“You’re bleeding,” Sam pointed out. 

Bucky threw him a look and shrugged dejectedly. “It’s nothing.” 

“Buck, what’s wrong?” Steve asked again. 

Sara turned in Bucky’s lap and reached out to touch his cheek with her tiny hand. “Are you sad, uncle Bucky?” 

A barely there smile twitched on Bucky’s face and he shook his head. “I’m okay, princess. I promise.” 

Sam sighed and left to get the first aid box from the bathroom. He came back with it and handed it to Steve. “He obviously won’t let me do it,” Sam told his husband. 

Steve took the first aid box and nodded.

“I don’t mind you touching me,” Bucky winked and grinned at Sam, showing him his bloody teeth. 

Sam winced at the display, but also rolled his eyes at Bucky’s failed attempt at flirting.

“Buck,” Steve gently warned him as he removed the saline and the cotton pads from the box. Sam sat beside Bucky and tried to take Sara from him, but the 3-year-old whined and clung to her uncle. “Nooooo… I wanna stay with uncle Bucky.” 

“Uncle Bucky is hurting, baby girl. Let’s let daddy make him all better,” Sam told her and tried taking her from Bucky once again. 

“That’s okay,” Bucky assured him. 

Steve started tending to Bucky’s wounds before asking him, “Where were you, Buck? You’ve been gone for 6 months.” 

“Shi-” Bucky started to say but Sam glared at him to dare and swear in Sara’s presence. “Damn,” he gave Sam a sheepish look and corrected himself. “I’ve been gone that long?”

“What? You didn’t have a watch where you were?” Sam asked. 

“Nah, I just forgot to look at it,” Bucky replied. “I was helping Yelena in Belarus.” 

“How is she?” Sam asked. “I’ve tried to get her to join the Avengers, but that’s always been a bust.” 

“Well, she respects and likes you, but she associates the Avengers with Natalia.” Bucky shrugged. 

Sam glanced at Steve at the mention of Natasha's name, but he just had an impassive look on his face.

“These need stitches.” Steve pointed at a gash on Bucky’s arm. 

“Take her. Don’t think she’ll appreciate seeing her dad sew me up,” Bucky said and transferred Sara into Sam’s lap. Sara was falling asleep, and she whined, but Sam gently rocked her in his arms and faced her away from where Steve was stitching Bucky up. 

Bucky continued to look at Sara with a sad look on his face. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I-” Bucky started, but then paused and the pained look returned to his face. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” 

“Try us, Buck. We’re your friends,” Steve encouraged him. 

“I think I have a kid out there somewhere,” Bucky replied. 

Sam stopped rocking Sara and blinked at Bucky while Steve did the same. “What?” Sam asked. 

“I recently met this woman who claimed that she worked for Hydra. She said they artificially inseminated her with a child while I was in Cryo during the 2000s. She says I am the father of this supposed child.” 

“Buck-” Steve sighed and looked over at Sam, who nodded at him. “This woman was clearly lying to you. If she worked for Hydra, then this was just her sick, twisted way of toying with your emotions.” 

“But what if she’s right? What if I have a kid out there?” Bucky asked, his eyes brimming with tears. 

“Bucky, Steve’s right. Do you really wanna go out there looking for someone you might never find? That will just break your heart‌,” Sam told him. 

“My heart is breaking right now. It breaks every time I look at you and your perfect little family,” Bucky replied. 

“Buck, what are you talking about?” Steve asked. 

“I can’t do this right now,” Bucky started to get up but Steve held him back. 

“We’re talking about this right now,” Sam’s husband said adamantly. 

Bucky sat back down. “I love you, all three of you, but sometimes I just wish I had what you have. Hell, sometimes I even imagine myself in Steve’s place. And I know how messed up that sounds, but I can’t help it. I want this, man. And now I can get it.” 

The four of them just sat there in silence after Bucky’s rant. Sam didn’t know what to say. 

“Uncle Bucky?” Sara broke the silence. “Do I have a cousin?” She asked innocently. 

The question surprised all three of them.

Bucky immediately grabbed Sara out of Sam’s hold and pressed her to his chest. “Yes, yes, you do,” he broke down. 

Sam and Steve looked at each other, and Sam knew exactly what his husband was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. Was there any truth to what that woman told Bucky? 

“Don’t cry, uncle Bucky,” Sara told him and wiped his tears away. “You’ll find her. And when you do, we’ll all play together!” She leaned her little head against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Look, I know you guys don’t believe me--” 

“We believe you, Buck,” Steve cut him off. “Just tell us what you need?” 

“Right now I need a nap,” Bucky said with a yawn and I think this little one does too. “Can I put her to bed?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Sam replied. 

Bucky winced as he got up. He then headed towards Sara’s room. 

Sam and Steve moved closer to each other and Sam lay his head down on his husband’s shoulder. “We’re gonna help him, aren’t we?” He asked. 

“I guess we are,” Steve replied and kissed the top of Sam’s head. 

[ana-benn]

The Enforcer's Gun

Warnings: Smut, mafia AU, Dom/sub, possessive alpha male, gun play, exhibitionism, alcohol consumption (I don't advise copying this part. I've done it and it's a great recipe for a hangover from hell), size kink, thigh riding, object insertion

You'd normally be thriving right now. You had your hair done, a dress that fit well and looks hot as fuck, and honestly you'd spent most of the night getting compliments from random strangers. For all intents and purposes, you were having a good night. Except the one man you wanted to notice how good you looked wasn't paying attention to you.

He was working.

While you could appreciate the fact that he had work to do, you hated how at times like this he could just ignore you. If you'd ever told him that he'd have smirked and informed you that he spoiled you. Which was true, but that knowledge did nothing as you stood at the bar and watched him talking to the owner of the nightclub you were in.

'Contract Negotiations' is what he had called it, but he wasn't exactly in the negotiations business. You flinched as Jordie grabbed the guy by the shoulder and held him fast while Jamie hit him hard in the stomach. You'd learned to find this side of him masculine and entirely too sexy, and you felt the tell-tale slick pool in your panties.

"There you are, you're too good at giving me the slip," Tyler laughed as he saddled up next to you. Normally you'd have Jessi here with you, but she'd just had a baby, so it was you and Tyler. You could've spent time with one of the other girls that'd come, but you didn't exactly like them all.

"That's because you're too busy checking out the sorority girls that just walked it," you quipped. "Why won't this bartender come take my order?" You grumbled as the bartender walked past you yet again.

"He probably saw you walk in with Chubbs," Tyler laughed, signaling the bartender.

"Don't let him hear you call him that in public," you grinned. "He may shoot you."

"Round of fireball shots," Tyler said when the bartender walked over finally. You have him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes, "And a Mai Tai for the lady."

"Plantation rum!" You called to the bartender's back. You rolled your eyes as Tyler laughed at your pout.

"Not everyone is gonna cater to you like Jamie does doll, just the facts," he winked then.

"He's not even catering to me," you grumbled, eyes drifting over to where Jamie was crouched over a bleeding man. Apparently negotiations weren't going well. Or maybe they were, you had no idea. "Why'd he bring me again?"

"You've been asking to come for months," Tyler reminded you.

"And you're baby sitting me because..." You asked.

"Apparently I only do 'pretty things' and this isn't a pretty job. So I got girlfriend duty," he smirked looking down at you.

"Why Mr. Seguin," you gasped in mock outrage. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were flirting."

"Nah, I like my balls where they are," Tyler shrugged. "You picked a jealous one." Just then the bartender lined up the shots in front of the two of you and set your Mai Tai down before scurrying away.

You rolled your eyes, as Tyler handed you a shot. You clinked them together before slamming back three in a row each. It was a ritual you'd developed when Tyler was on baby sitting duty, and you actually enjoyed the cinnamon burn. You tasted your drink, rolling your eyes as you sipped the tinny taste associated with Bacardi, before grabbing the final shot in front of you and dumping it into the tiki drink.

"Really?" Tyler asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged, "I hate Bacardi, you know that."

Tyler just laughed as he threw back his final shot, "Come on I know you wanna dance."

You let Tyler lead you onto the dance floor, one hand securing your drink firmly. You danced with him for a while, forgetting your annoyance at Jamie for working temporarily. You were laughing and having fun, as Tyler would spin you around and sing along with you. It was completely not sexy, but it was fun and comfortable. Tyler was Jamie's best friend, and you felt almost as safe with him as you did your boyfriend. You'd grown to see him like a playful older brother who would tease you and goof around, but the second someone touched you he's fuck them up.

A few songs in though and he leaned into your ear, "I'm going to hit the head. Stay here." You nodded in acknowledgement as he walked away.

In a place like this it wasn't long before the vultures descended, and a decent looking guy moved in to try and dance with you. "Just waiting for my boyfriend," you'd explained.

"It's okay, I am too," he laughed.

You smiled then and danced a little with him then, soon another guy showed up and your partner left. Tyler still hadn't shown up so you decided to go to the ladies room. As you walked out after washing your hands you held the door open with your foot so you could throw your towel away, not paying attention to your surroundings you were startled when rough hands grab you and pressed you against the brick walk across from the bathroom.

You were about to scream when you recognized the bearded face looming over you, "Jamie?" You questioned. "You scared me."

"Did I?" He mumbled as he hiked your skirt up and pushed into your body as a brought a thick thigh between your legs. The immediate pressure made you gasp in delight, as his lips attacked your neck.

"I don't like watching you dance with other men," he growled as you pushed down onto his thigh harder, dragging your soaked pussy along the dark fabric of his pants. Craving the friction and already desperate for him.

"I-I'm...." You were losing what your wanted to say as he again pressed rough kissed over you'd neck, working down into the cleavage of your dress. You moaned softly at the feel, and bucked into his body. His hands on your hubs suddenly stilled you.

"You're going to cum on my thigh little girl," he said darkly. "But first I think I need to remind you who I am."

Suddenly you felt cold metal touch your inner thigh, as his other hand ripped your flimsy panties from your core. He shoved the lace in his pocket as he spread your slick around your weeping hole, before working you open on his thick finger. You responsive body was preening under the attention, and you eagerly bucked into his hand as his palm grazed your clit.

"Fuck baby, you're so wet," he groaned his head falling into your neck. "Whose got you this wet?"

"You do," you moaned out. "Only you."

"Yeah?" He asked, making you whimper as he removed his hand. He slowly worked the cold barrel of his gun into you soaked channel, as he did that he sucked your juices off his finger.

He worked you until the barrel was seated inside you fully. Before he left it there running his hands along your inner thighs and occasionally grazing your sensitive bud. He was teasing you while your cunt quivered around the gun, you felt so full and stretched around it.

You didn't even notice as Jamie pulled out his phone, but when you saw him take a picture of your body split open on his gun you could've cum right then. He smirked when he saw your hungry eyes watch his every move before hiking you up further by pulling your legs over his hips. You moaned as he nuzzled his face into your neck again and worked his mouth over your favourite spot. You knew well that he'd leave a dark bruise there, and you craved it. You craved that mark of ownership maring your skin. Just the idea made you groan with arousal.

You shuttered as your back brushed against the rough wall in the hallway of the nightclub. The exposed back of your dress creating space for the wall to scratch your delicate skin.

"Please you begged," as Jamie's large hands teased you mercilessly, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold metal in your soaked cunt.

"You want to act like a desperate whore," Jamie growled in your ear, pushing further into your body. "I'll treat you like a whore." He pulled the gun back just enough, before pushing it roughly back into you. "You'll get off on my gun right here, or I'll make sure you don't cum for weeks little girl."

You sobbed. It was rough, and degrading, but it felt like heaven. You wanted to hate this, but the feel of Jamie's hands on you, as he fucked you with a weapon was indescribable. You wanted more, and yet with a flex of his wrist you felt yourself quiver as you orgasmed all over the shiny metal.

"JAMIE," your cried out as waves of pleasure wracked your body.

As you came down he worked the gun out of you before sliding it into the waistband of his pants. He slowly dragged your cunt along his thigh as you just watched, completely blissed out. He grinned at your expression as you went from being in a post-orgasmic haze, to being fully aroused again, to thrashing against him as you came violent with nothing in your oversensitive core.

He let you come down, cooing in your ear has he did so, "Such a good girl for me." He rubbed soothing hands over your arms and back as he just held you.

Once he'd given you a moment to recover he slowly set you down on shaky knees. You watched him as he pulled the gun out and wiped it off, before pulling the clip from his back pocket and reloading it. You gazed at him shocked as you put it together.

"It wasn't loaded?" You asked, causing Jamie to laugh.

"You thought I'd fuck you with a loaded gun? Come on baby, I told you I'd engage your fantasy I'm not putting my favorite girl at risk," he said with a smile. "Now come on your going to keep my cock warm while I finished working out some more details."

He grabbed your hand and escorted you back to where he'd been all night. He was unashamed as he unzipped his cock and impaled you on it, as you stifled a moan as you settled into his chest. You peppered kisses along his neck as you allowed his beard to tickle the side of your face as he spoke. You felt yourself slowly soaking him as your juices slicked out of your body.

Every once in a while Jamie would look at you and smirk as he felt your walls flutter around him. You were on edge and desperate for friction. By the time you were left alone, realizing that the club around you had closed and it was just you and Jamie you were borderline feral for him. You moved to get off of him, so he could take you home and fuck you, but instead powerful hands held you in place. You looked at Jamie, shocked, before he lifted you slowly and brought you back down roughly.

You understood what he wanted and slowly tucked your knees under you. You worked yourself up his cock, before the hands covering your hips brought you back down. Your responsive body trembled at the give and take you were doing with him. His eyes never left you, watching as you worked yourself to the edge again, he wanted to see you come undone.

With no adrenaline in your veins this time your climax came softer, more subtle, you whimpered out as your body quaked around him. Jamie groaned and pulled your lips to his as he reached his own peak. Once he'd calmed himself he slowly lifted you off I've him. Tucking himself back into his pants he slung a lazy arm around your waist before nodding at the bartender you'd dealt with earlier. He threw some cash on a table and ordered him to lock up. You felt you face heat as you realized you hadn't been alone, but ultimately you didn't care.

It had been a good night.

[sams-sass]

Right Here Waiting

Friends!!! I am so sorry that I haven't posted in like weeks. I was taking time to relax and refresh. This is for all my Dean girls! I hope you all have a beautiful weekend. Thank you so much for reading! Much love *kisses*

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and Dean faces the fact that he might lose you before he gets to tell you how he feels.

Pairings: Dean x Reader.

Warnings: Talk of death. Angst. Fluff. Angsty fluff. Few swear words.

--------------------------

Deans back practically rammed through the door, almost knocking it off its hinges. He dragged you into the motel room with Sam running in behind him, his arms full of weapons and bags. Your head lolled from side to side against Dean's chest as he walked backward toward one of the beds. His limp was bad, and every step was agonizing, but he was determined to take care of you first. He threw you down on the bed and grabbed your face between his hands.

“Y/N!” He screamed, his voice nervous and shaky. You didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. He shook your shoulders, his bloody hands grasping your shirt.

“Dean!” Sam yelled at his brother. It was almost as if Dean didn’t hear him, just continued to stare into your face. “Dean!” Sam tried again, grabbing Dean’s jacket this time.

"Not now, Sam!" Dean shrugged Sam's hands-off and grabbed your shirt again, shaking you even harder this time.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, grabbing his brother by the jacket with both hands and picking him up off your body. Dean pushed against Sam's hands, his breath coming in fast and hard as he tried to get back to you. "Dean," Sam said softly this time. "She has a head injury; you can't shake her like that." He let go of Dean's jacket and patted his shoulder compassionately, telling him he completely understood his brother's outburst. Dean nodded quickly and dragged his hand over his mouth, feeling the blood on his skin. He looked down at his hand, and his lips parted at the shock of seeing it covered in blood. At that moment, he realized how much pain he was in; he collapsed into Sam’s chest when his leg gave out suddenly. Sam caught him and moved to the bed, helping Dean sit down next to you and looking at his leg. Dean kicked his jeans off and saw the wicked-looking gash across his thigh and dragging over his knee. He winced at the sight of blood and his torn flesh.

"How did you get so lucky? That wendigo tore me and Y/N apart." Dean asked Sam, who seemed unharmed.

“I have a bullet wound on my arm from when Y/N shot at it and missed it," Sam said, his voice was eerily calm.

“You have a bullet…Sam!” Dean screamed. He started looking at Sam's arms, and sure enough, there was a hole in his left jacket sleeve with a stream of blood trailing down.

"I'll worry about it later. You could bleed out." Sam said, getting out the stitches and gauze. He moved his left arm as little as possible, stitching his brother to the best of his abilities. Dean distracted himself by looking over at you, your face peaceful on the puke green bedspread. He couldn't imagine what would happen if you didn't wake up. He didn't want to look in the rearview mirror again if you weren't curled up in the back seat, your eyes catching his every once in a while. He didn't want to fall asleep at night without listening to your quiet breaths, even and steady. How could he manage another hunt without being able to celebrate with you after? He didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t let himself fall into that pit of despair.

His thoughts were interrupted when Sam accidentally stabbed him; he mumbled a “sorry” and kept working. He finally finished, wiping away at all the blood and standing up. He handed Dean the gauze and flopped down next to him on the bed, slowly taking off his jacket and shirt. His hands clenched from the pain. Sam turned so Dean could clean and inspect the wound for bullet fragments. Finding none, he wrapped Sam’s arm in gauze. The brothers then passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth between them, looking back at you with every sip. Sam placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, sending him a small smile.

“She’s gonna be okay." He said. Dean didn't answer; he just kept staring at you lying on the bed.

“Sam I…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

“I know, Dean. I know.” Sam nodded his head and looked at the ground. You had been unconscious for about two hours now, and the boys were both growing with anxiety. Sam considered you his best friend. His companion on this long and broken road. He loved you and often showed you, exposing his thoughts and feelings to you when he couldn't count on anyone else. You were like a sister to him, a familial and strong bond that couldn't break. Dean was a different story. You and Dean were more than close. He considered you an extension of himself. He found himself waking before you so you would have a hot coffee when you woke up. He found ways to touch you, to let his skin move over yours for just a moment. No matter how fleeting the time maybe. He wanted to be flooded by you, surrounded by you in the dark of night. To feel your hair tickle his skin. Your scent cascades its way through him and fill him completely. He dreamt of a time when he could look into your eyes, deeply and passionately. Dream of a time when he could run his hands through your hair, feeling the strands slip between his fingers. He thought of you every day. Whispered your name into the night.

Now it looked like you may be slipping away. He could barely stand to look at you, knowing how badly you were hurt. Your skin was starting to bruise. A grotesque handprint was on your bicep where the wendigo had grabbed you and thrown you into the cave wall harshly. He scowled at the memory and swallowed thickly. He moved and limped his way into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water. He limped back to the bed and signaled to Sam to help him move you into a more comfortable position. He laid your head on the pillow while Sam straightened your legs before moving to his bed.

“Want me to stay up?” Sam asked.

"Nah, Sammy, I'll watch her," Dean responded, sitting back down next to you on the bed.

"Okay, wake me when she wakes up," Sam said around a yawn. Dean gave him a small smile and lifted your hand in his, beginning to wipe the dirt from your skin. He gently wiped all your exposed skin, pushing the hair away from your forehead. Your chest was moving slowly but surely, up and down, giving Dean a sense of peace. He moved toward the head of the bed and leaned his back against the headboard, stretching his aching muscles. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey again and watched the amber liquid slosh in the glass. His eyes kept wandering back to you, worry evident on his face.

Your face twitched first, eyebrows furrowing and lips curling. You moaned and rolled your head slowly, eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hey. Hey. Don’t move too much.” Dean said. He pulled himself over to you and grabbed your hand within his, looking into your fluttering eyes with concern. Waking up to Dean was something you could get used to. Jade eyes and freckles were greeting you softly. You groaned and suddenly felt the heaviness in your head. The pounding and splitting ache felt as if someone filled your head with rocks and shook it violently.

“Dean? What happened?” You whispered. Your voice was raspy and weak.

"The wendigo. It threw you against the cave wall. You hit your head pretty badly." He whispered back; his fingers brushed against your cheek as he tried to assess the extent of your head wound.

“Jesus, it's bright in here." You grumbled, lifting your head slightly. Dean tried to wrap his hands around your shoulders to support you. "I'm fine." You mumbled and tried to sit up, immediately regretting your decision. The room spun, and nausea hit your stomach hard. You fell back against the bed and placed your palm against your forehead, your eyes slamming shut.

“Shit, Y/N, just lay down.” Dean’s voice sounded annoyed and concerned at the same time.

“What’s that sound?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“What sound?” Dean asked, looking around the room with wide frantic eyes.

“That ringing! Oh my god, it’s so loud.” You said, moving your hands to your ears.

“Y/N? Y/N! Hey!" You heard him talking over you, but the sound was so loud, and you were so tired. Your skin felt heavy on your bones. Your neck was unable to lift your head. You couldn't take the ringing anymore; it was so loud in your head. Bouncing off your skull like bullets. The room began to shrink around you, the corners of your vision becoming dark and blurry. Your eyes closed again, and you slowly sank into the blackness that was calling your name with its warm voice. You felt your body move but didn't wake. Felt smooth leather of the backseat of the impala against the skin of your hands, but didn’t move. You thought you heard Dean's panicked voice saying your name but knew it was just a dream. The soft feeling of sleep surrounding you in its peaceful and calming hold.

Dean grabbed your face in between his hands, his mouth repeating your name over and over again as he watched you fall into the blackness. Sam raced to his brother's side, falling to his knees on the side of the bed, looking at your closed eyes.

“Y/N!” Dean screamed. “No, no, no, no, baby. Wake up for me.” He pleaded, this thumbs rubbing circles into your cheeks.

"Dean, we have to get her to the hospital!" Sam yelled, standing up and putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. He practically pushed Dean off of you and bent at the waist, placing his shoulder into your stomach, wrapping his arm around you, and lifting you as if you were a sack. Your body fell over his shoulder. Your hands swayed, and your fingers brushed against the back of his thighs. Dean pulled pants onto his legs quickly and limped to the car. There was a growing worry between them for your wellbeing. The silent communication that they often shared was thick with concern. Sam drove to the closest hospital while Dean held you in his arms in the backseat. His hands moved over your arms and shoulders. His mouth whispering your name and soft ‘please’s and ‘not yet’s into your hair as his lips brushed your ear.

------------------

The hospital was bright and loud when the boys pushed through the door. Dean limping, his stitches pulling with every step while Sam had you thrown over his shoulder. Nurses ran over to the three of you and helped Sam place you on a stretcher. They wheeled you away, and the boys looked helplessly down the white and sterile hallway. The stretcher rammed through the double doors, and you were gone. The doors closed, and Dean felt his heart sink lower into his chest, hope fading inside him quickly.

Dean was sitting next to Sam in the waiting room for family. The blue plastic chair was uncomfortable and hard against his aching body. He didn't know how to feel or act. His body felt old and used. His mind felt fuzzy and disoriented. He couldn't decide if he was heartbroken or angry. His soul was in a battle between an explosion of anger and pain or silent suffering within his skin. He rested his elbows on his thighs, ignoring the pain against his freshly stitched skin, and bowed his head. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he swallowed them down, not allowing the flood to happen yet. You had to be okay; you had to pull through. You were strong. So fucking strong. You had to wake up, open those beautiful Y/E/C eyes of yours and give Dean that small smirk that made his heart stop.

“Mr. Jacobson?” The doctor asked, looking around the room and interrupting Dean’s thoughts.

“Yes?” Dean said, standing up and limping towards the doctor, Sam right next to him.

“You’re here for Serena Jacobson?” He asked, checking his clipboard. You had this all planned since you started working with the boys. You all had false papers with fake names for insurance purposes. On some, you and Dean were married; on others, you and Sam were married. Dean just happened to be the one who threw the papers down this time.

"Yes," Sam answered this time, swallowing hard and looking at Dean for a moment.

"She suffered a severe concussion and had some brain swelling. At the moment, it is still touch and go; we have her on sedatives that we will slowly decrease, so she wakes on her own." He said. Dean blinked his eyes and furrowed his brow. He couldn't understand what was being said. His world was collapsing around him as his heart rate skyrocketed. His breath became loud in his ears. His body stiff and cold. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and his world snapped back to him suddenly.

“But she’s gonna be okay, right? Doc, she’s gotta be okay.” Dean asked, his voice small.

"Right now, that's up to her." He said, his fingers tapped his clipboard as he nodded at them and walked away. The boys found your room, and Dean thought he was going to vomit. The sight of you in that white, clean, and sterile bed made bile rise into his throat, gagging him slightly. A bed that others had laid in, been sick in, and died in filled his body with dread. His feet brought him over to your bedside. Sam stood on the other side of you; he brushed his fingers along your arm. Dean couldn't bring himself to touch you just yet. Your glowing skin looked washed out and dull in the harsh fluorescent lighting. The bruise on your arm stood out against the white sheets. You seemed so small in the bed, so weak and broken, a complete contrast to how you usually were. Dean felt the tears hitting the blanket before he realized he was crying. He couldn't lose you, not yet. Not ever.

--------------------------

You opened your eyes to a sea of color. Green, blue, yellow, red, pink, and purple surrounded you. You felt warm under the sun, its soothing heat touching your exposed skin. The grass was scratchy under your thighs and elbows. The smell of summer was heavy in the air. It's thick and sticky air pulling into your lungs. Purple and pink flowers poked out of the green grass, their faces turned up towards the sun's light. A small creek tripped and stumbled over stones behind you; the sound of it filled you with peace. The sky was so blue with puffy white clouds hanging in it as if someone threw handfuls of cotton into the air. You blinked and looked around, slightly confused about where you were.

"Y/N! Come here!" A male voice said. You immediately sat up to find the source. Your heart dropped in your chest when you saw him, lips parting and breath catching in your throat at the sight. He looked shorter than you remembered. His shoulders that you used to ride on broad and expansive in his simple white t-shirt. He smiled at you, and tears prickled the edges of your eyes instantly.

“Dad?” You asked, standing up and moving towards him.

“Hey, Y/N/N, I’ve missed you so much.” He said with another smile that stung your heart.

“What is happening? What’s going on?” You asked him, sitting down in front of him.

“You’re hurt, sweetie. We are in a space between earth and heaven.” He answered, his body leaning closer to you.

"The wendigo." You said, remembering your head wound. You looked away at the expansive landscape in front of you, understanding, settling in your bones. "I'm dying." You whispered.

“That’s up to you, Y/N.” Your dad replied, his voice just as warm as you remembered.

“What do I do, dad?” You asked him with a trembling voice.

“Whatever you think is best.” He said back, his hand coming to cover yours, and you couldn’t stop the flood that completely engulfed you with emotion. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his skin. He was right here in front of you, and you couldn't stop the swarm that filled you, breaking down all your walls and sweeping you away. You wrapped your arms around your father and took in his scent, clutching his shirt between your fingers.

“I can’t lose you again, daddy.” You mumbled against his shoulder.

"We can stay for a bit; tell me about your life." He said, his hands running over your back comfortingly. You nodded and sat back again, wiping your eyes and sniffling.

"Well, I'm a hunter just like you raised me to be. I hunt with these two men, Sam and Dean; you would like them a lot. Sam is like my big brother; he looks after me and I him on hunts and just in general. He is brilliant and kind; I enjoy his company so much because there is something about him that reminds me of you," You looked up at him with a small grin; he smiled back and nodded, silently telling you to go on. "then there’s Dean, he’s a bit of a different story. He’s strong, really strong. He’s selfless and compassionate…most of the time.” You laughed lightly. “He buys me coffee in the morning and gives me his jacket when I’m cold. He is a good man, they both are, but Dean…he makes me feel special.” You admitted, allowing yourself to say the words aloud for the first time and loving the warm feeling that spread throughout your veins. Your father smiled at you and nodded his head.

"Sounds like you are doing good, sweetie." He said, with a little laugh that made you smile. You nodded your head for a moment. Your lip started to tremble, and you made eye contact with him and slowly shook your head. There was so much you wanted to say, but only one thing came to your mind.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you.” You licked your bottom lip and let it catch between your teeth.

"That's an option." He said, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows. "But is it the best option?" He asked, and you already knew the answer.

------------------------

Dean swallowed thickly and finally took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your wrist. Your skin felt cold, and it made him wince. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again when he couldn't speak the words. He needed to tell you how he felt. He didn't know if you could hear him, but he had to try. Had to unleash his feelings for you to know. He turned towards Sam and cleared his throat, licking his lips and controlling his emotions for a moment.

“Sammy, can I have a minute?” He said, hearing the crack in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll get us some coffee.” Sam said, nodding and walking out the room, leaving you and Dean alone. Dean turned back to you and wrapped his other hand around yours, warming your skin in between his hands. He looked down at your combined hands and opened his mouth, feeling his lower lip tremble with emotion.

"Y/N, I-I don't know what to say. I need you here with me. I need to wake up every day knowing that you are going to tell me, 'it's too early for good, morning is fine.'" He chuckled softly at the memory of your husky voice and disheveled appearance. “Ya know, when we first met, I thought there was no way this super cool chick was going to stick around. I thought you would work the case with us and then leave us in the dust. You didn't; though, you joined the family. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here, and I'll be right here waiting for you, Y/N, always.” Dean looked up into your face and moved even closer to you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Baby, please fight for this. I need you to fight and come back to me. I need you-I just need you, only you. I love you, Y/N. I love you so goddamn much, and you have to wake up, okay? You have to pull through and wake up, because if you don't…I don't know what I'll-." His muscles clenched at the thought of what he would do to save you, eyes closing and tears falling freely down his cheeks. "Come back to me, baby.” He whispered before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. His lips trembled against your flesh, your hair moving from his heavy sobs. He sat up and clenched his jaw. He was beginning to feel numb. A cold and ominous breath was spreading through his body. He felt dead inside. His skin felt just as cold as yours did. His eyes just as unseeing as yours were. His heart is just as slow and unsure as yours was. He felt open and exposed to the violence that stood menacingly in the back of his mind. He let out a shaky breath and licked his lips, tasting the salty tears. He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes.

“Y/N.” He breathed your name into the air. One could mistake it for a prayer.

--------------------

You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, closing your eyes and bowing your head. You had an impossible choice in front of you, one that only you could make. It would be so easy to let go and stay here with your father, to live in this happy space with him forever. To get the time back, that was so harshly taken away from you two. It would be so easy to fold and let the sun warm you with its golden light. It would be so easy to watch the clouds roll by until the end of time, laughing in the grass as the creek bubbled in the background. To let someone else handle the hunting for once. Let them clean the blood off their hands. Let them dig graves in the pitch black of night. Let them be the ones stitching up wounds that leave scars along their skin. Let them be the ones who have wounds that no one could stitch up or fix. Scars that cut far deeper than the skin and into the very soul. It would be easy.

"Y/N." A voice called from a distance. A voice you knew all too well, a voice that sent chills down your spine. Dean was calling to you, his voice a breathy whisper. He sounded broken, and it made your heart skip a beat. You closed your eyes and let out a breath. You knew what you had to do.

“I have to go back.” You said, your body curling even tighter into itself.

“It’s not your time yet, Y/N/N.” Your dad said, his strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “But when it is, I’ll be here waiting.” He smiled at you, sad eyes letting you know this was the right choice.

“I love you.” Your voice broke around your words.

“I love you too.” He said. You closed your eyes and made your final decision.

-------------------------

Your eyes opened to harsh light. Everything around you was white; all color gone from your vision. The grass no longer tickled your skin. The air felt cold, and it made your bones ache. The creek wasn't falling over stones anymore, instead replaced by silence. Suddenly, there was a beeping next to you that made you jump slightly. You blinked and turned your head to the side to see Dean sitting next to you, his hands wrapped tightly around yours. You couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face, your eyes softening at the sight of him. You wiggled your fingers that were trapped between his, giggling when his head instantly shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. He looked up at you, and a bright, warm, and happy smile touched his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes slightly.

“Y/N?” He said quietly.

“Dean.” You said, your voice soft and horse. He stood from his chair and stepped closer to you, his hands taking your face between them.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.

“Not yet.” You said, laughing lightly.

------

Sam stepped into the room and saw his brother leaning over you, your eyes were closed, but you were smiling. Dean leaned down and touched his forehead to yours, and Sam backed out of the room quietly, letting you have your space.

------

Dean went to take his forehead off yours; you quickly grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to yours, finally letting yourself taste him. He let out a surprised grunt before quickly kissing you back, his fingers twisting into your hair as his mouth opened. He broke the kiss first, leaning back and looking into your eyes, searching for an answer.

"Y/N…I really hope that was more than an 'I'm happy I'm alive' kiss. Because I have been thinking about this for a while." He said, his thumb running over your cheek.

"No, Dean, that was an 'I've wanted to do that for a really long time, and being on the verge of death made me see that I should take chances and tell people how I really feel' kiss." You smiled at him.

“Good, because I have also wanted to do that for a really long time.” He laughed, lowering his eyes shyly.

“I heard you.” You said, taking his hand off your cheek and holding it in yours.

“What?” He asked.

“I heard you say my name when I was asleep. That’s what brought me back.” You said with a small smirk. He looked at you with a combination of embarrassment, awe, and love.

“I was right here.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Waiting for me.” You finished, smiling at the small chuckle that left his mouth.

“Always.” He whispered before connecting his lips to yours once more.

**I didn't know who to tag because I write so little Dean. If you would like to be tagged and you were not, please let me know!

Tags: @spnfanficpond​ @watermelonlipstick​ @calaofnoldor​

[dashflashy-arts]

Since I taIked about my smoker oc, it's time for the next one: the hunter! His story's lighter than Sam's but it's still sad in a way. Some of the doodles I'll be sharing are drawn in 2018 so it's kinda yucky haha

Backstory + Info Dump + Doodles under the cut:

Hansel Haummer, at a young age, was a daredevil. An ironic trait to have, since his parents are what you can call "ordinary". He did a lot of crazy sports, but parkour was what caught his heart

Due to his interest of crazy thrills, he secretly went to places where thrill seekers hang out and do their thing. There he meet some pretty cool kids, and not-so-nice older ones. They would teach him tricks, but some tricks are just to make fun of him. They would also include him with their troublemaking. Despite getting bruised or in trouble by them, Hansel still hang out with them

That is... until he met his friends

He was walking to school one day when he spot a kid being bullied by a few taller bullies outside school. Hansel intervened, but the bullies only laughed. What's a little midget boy gonna do? tickle them to death?

Nah, but he DID give one of them a broken nose

Things were heating up when a teacher found them. He and the kid went to detention (because the teacher who caught them thought they were the ones who started it). The two talked to each other during that time, later dragging Samuel into their conversation. Needless to say, it was the most pleasant time they've had while being punished

The three started hanging out after that. Hansel no longer went to that place, doing what is asked of him by the older kids. Instead, he shows tricks and moves to his newfound friends even if they didn't ask for it.

Time passed and the three became roommates in an apartment! He also became friends with their anti-social neighbor, whom he shares his interest with cats and cartoons. Hansel worked part-time in a gym, then spends most of time honing his skills as a parkourist.

Things were pretty normal for him. Until that day...

He didn’t know the infection was going on until he met a bleeding stranger who was desperately asking for help but later on tried to bite him. Worried about his friends, He ran to the apartment as fast as he can. He went to check the neighbor, whom he heard was sobbing in her room. It was late when he realized that she was already infected and was able to scratch him when he tried to escape. He managed to crawl inside his room, to where he became who he is now

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Other Info about him:

He's 24 years old when he died

His head got bumped as a baby once...

He's very cheery and friendly, the most energetic among all of them

Only a few people know what Hansel looks like under that hood. That being his parents, his pets, and probably his barber

He's a proud mama's boy

He was actually in a relationship! His friends only found out after he said "bold of you to assume I'm single" to someone as a comeback

He, like Sme, sucks at cooking

I have a headcanon that zombies (both normal and infected) are no longer conscious. But if they were, Hansel would be cheery yet aggressively feral

He gouged out his eyes when turning into a zombie because it was what hurt the most

He loves animals, but his main preference being cats and dogs

He adopted a stray cat, whom he named "Claws"

...she's still alive, even in post-apocalypse

That's it for now! here's an old drawing ref I have of him:

I still use it to this day

[treemaidengeek]

Griddlehark in the Dark (AO3 link)

......... 💀 .......... 💀 .......... 💀 ..........

"You know what's refreshing about all this, Harrow?"

"Shut up, Griddle."

"You know what's absolutely tickling my toes and giving me solace in this trying hour?"

"I give not one single fuck, Griddle, but I have the sinking feeling you're about to tell me anyway."

"This isn't my fault. There is no way you can construe this as my fault."

"It's always your fault, you insipid ray of misplaced sunshine. Just let me finish reconstructing my fibula and kneecap and I'll happily figure out how." A pause. The voice amended, with a pained grunt, "and my ribs. My ribs could use a bit of attention too."

Gideon's tone grew alarmed. "Do you want me to--"

"I want you to stay still and shut up so I can work." There was a shrill edge to the words.

For a while, the silence was broken only by the occasional plink and shhhhf of settling rubble.

Gideon sneezed. Twice.

She began, quietly, to hum "The Cav with the Very Long Bone."

Harrow hissed.

"Sorry!" Gideon said. "Sorry. It's just-- you know, hanging out here in the dark, pinned under a rather large pile of bones and bits of mummified things and God only knows what scraps of wall and floor and shit, probably bleeding but I can’t feel it which is either good or very bad--"

"I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, well, you also said 'what's in this cave, Griddle? It's my duty as the heir of the Ninth to explore every horrible corner of this horrible place and seeing as your ass belongs to me--"

"Believe me, I have no desire for your ass in particular." An audible grin crept into her tone. "Though it is of middling quality as far as asses go. One could possess a worse ass."

"I have a magnificent ass, thank you, and you just spend too much time around dead people to properly appreciate it. Anyway, you dragged me along because you bloody could. You ignored me when I said 'gee, my lady, I don't like the look of those support beams and columns, I think this is a place where engineers and architects take their baby apprentices to teach them what not to do. And here we are! Ta-daaa!" That last ta-da bit was accompanied by a small avalanche of shifting-rubble sounds. "Ow. So at the moment your apology, and anything else you have to say that isn't 'now I shall initiate my brilliant plan to get us the hell out of here,' are checks that won't cash."

"...Gideon. Did you just do jazz hands? In the dark, when you're half buried in dangerously precarious detritus?"

"...No. ...Maybe. Yes."

"Gideon Nav, you are an idiot and a buffoon."

"Maybe. But I'm a buffoon who's an innocent fucking bystander. If you wanted to lay me out on my back and keep me here, there were easier ways, you know."

"I think we've pretty well proven that I can lay you out until you beg for mercy any time I want to."

Silence.

A suspiciously long silence.

"Promise?"

Another pause. When she spoke, Gideon could hear her furious blush. Or maybe that was just fury. Hard to tell sometimes with that one. “Seriously? Now?”

Gideon laughed. “Nah. Just… get us out of here, ok? Or at least get your shit together enough to do your thing and help me get out from under all this crap. I’ll be really pissed if we die down here. I’ll haunt your ass. I’ll find you in the afterlife and follow you around making the worst jokes for all of eternity.”

“Griddle?”

“Yes Harrow?”

“I’m going to absolutely wreck you.”

“Yes, Harrow.”

.......... 💀 .......... 💀 .......... 💀 ..........

(Thanks to @elvencantation for a quick beta! ^_^)

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 1

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep sprinting. All you were able to hear were the ghostly, haunting wails of the dead. They were a sound that you’ve grown accustomed to, but they never failed to make you uneasy, no matter how many times you’ve heard them. You never thought it would end like this, torn to shreds by walkers. But what were you expecting? Dying as a hero? Dying to a human, when they were so few and far between? Hell, dying of starvation was better than sharing the fate of the dead people walking. Anything was better than ending up like the group of walkers chasing you down the street.

The scorching heat definitely didn’t help. You were never fond of the Georgian heat and despite having grown up here, you simply disliked how uncomfortable and sticky everything felt. But today, you were convinced that if you cracked a raw egg on the street, it would easily cook. The road was surrounded by greenery, a forest nearby. It was oddly beautiful, the grass growing out of the cracks in the concrete, the flowers blooming around you.

Your legs were starting to give out. You knew that if you didn’t figure something out, and quick, you were as good as dead. Your knife was tucked in its sheath, but once you heard snarls and growls of a nearby walker that wandered from the opposite side of the street, you unsheathed it and threw the knife straight into the dead man’s head, cracking his skull open and sending it flying down on the hot concrete. Despite how tired you were, you felt a smirk creep up on your face- even when running for your life, almost collapsing out of sheer exhaustion, your skills with a blade didn’t let you down. Quickly bending down to retrieve your trusty knife, you pulled it out of the walker’s skull with a slight grunt and grimaced as some blood hit your face. Shit. Not only were you sweaty, you were also covered in walker blood just because you pulled your knife out too quickly.

You were about to quickly curse the dead man for making you even dirtier than you already were, but your head shot up when you heard a loud, consistent noise. A car alarm went off. This was your only chance, you thought. You didn’t take time to wonder why the alarm was blaring, maybe one of the dead bumped into an abandoned car. Frankly, you didn’t care. You looked around and nearly gasped when you saw it- an opening to the forest. You felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and made a run for it, praying to every deity that the dead were too distracted with the loud noise of the alarm to notice you slip away.

Your prayers were answered. You managed to slip into the lush forest unnoticed. Deciding to walk deeper into the woodland, you sheathed your knife and gave it a gentle pat, as if thanking it for saving your life.

The forest was serene and quiet. The trees gave you shade and cooled you down a little. Looking up, you saw a bird fly up to its nest. Despite you being in grave danger, practically at all times, life went on for other creatures. Moss grew over stones and tree trunks, the occasional mushroom could be found here and there. Instead of the growls of the dead, all you could hear now was the calm rustling of the trees and the sounds of woodland creatures, mainly the quiet chirping of birds. For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt at peace.

Suddenly, the sound of rushing water could be heard. There must have been a river nearby. Hurrying over to find the source of the sound, you almost tripped over a root that was sticking out of the ground, barely managing to get hold of a tree before you could fall. You couldn’t help your excitement; you were dehydrated, sweaty and tired- any body of water would be a blessing.

“Oh, fuck yes” was all you said under your breath when you saw it- a beautiful, small creek and a tiny pond connected to it. Rocks were scattered across the river bank, moss covering most of them. Trees were growing out of the edge of the bank, one bending right over the pond. Green ferns surrounded the other side of the lake, gently rustling with every gust of wind. You noticed a big weeping willow and decided to lay your backpack underneath it. Your knife was still attached to your pants- it wasn’t a good idea to leave it on the bank. ‘Better safe than sorry’ you thought.

You contemplated for a second, wondering whether you should take your clothes off but decided against it- you might need to get up and run any second and running through a forest naked, possibly being chased by walkers didn’t sound like much fun. Not that running from them fully clothed was a blast.

You quickly kicked off your boots and splashed some water on your face, allowing it to drip from your lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smile and sigh, finally able to relax and rest. The water was clear- you could see the rocks on the bottom of the lake and some stray leaves that fell in. You could also see your reflection- your hair was matted, some knots forming in it and your face sunken down, dark bags under your eyes from staying awake and alert at all times. You sighed and let yourself submerge in the water- it wasn’t nearly as good as a shower, but you knew that a shower is a luxury that was far out of your reach.

Sitting under the willow, hair and clothes wet, you played with your knife in your hands. The dark brown, wooden handle was wrapped in a bandage for easier grip- that way it never slipped out of your hand. You smiled when you remembered receiving the knife. Your previous group was like family to you- they taught you everything you know. Everything from sharpening knives to killing walkers or skinning squirrels. You owed your life to them, but you will forever remember one of them- Jake. He was a tall guy, middle aged you would guess, not that it mattered anymore. His hair was a dirty blonde color and his face was speckled with freckles. He was like a father to you, he was the one who gave you your knife, and he came up with its nickname- Artemis. During one of the rare, calm and starry nights he sat on top of his truck with you while the rest of your group was asleep. He explained why he named your knife Artemis- he said it’s the name of a Greek goddess, patron of nature and hunts. You were never big on mythology, only knowing a few of the most popular myths.

“So, you named her after the goddess of nature for me to shamelessly murder innocent woodland critters with it?” You joked, “Don’t think she would be too happy about that”

He laughed and playfully punched your shoulder, making you swat at him with your hand

“Nah, I’m sure she would understand. Hunting was her thing” Jake said, sighing and gave you a small smile.

You shook your head, not even trying to understand. You felt at peace, safe even. He treated you like his daughter more than a fellow survivor. He saved your life when you almost starved to death and took you in. Ever since then, he took it upon himself to keep you safe. He said you reminded him of his daughter, but you never asked him to elaborate, as his eyes always darkened when he spoke about her. Jake made you feel like as long as he was around, nothing would ever happen to you.

And then everything went to shit.

When you were all asleep peacefully, a herd passed through your camp. They must’ve seen your campfire or heard you speak from afar. You saw your entire group get mauled and torn apart, right before your eyes. You saw Jake die. Before he met his end, he managed to say one last thing.

“Run”

You quickly shook your head and stood up, stretching. The leaves hanging from the willow above you swayed in the wind, one of them tickling your neck and almost making you jump out of your skin, you held Artemis out and turned around, sighing.

You had to admit, you were paranoid. But you didn’t think it was a bad thing- it was either being careful or being dead.

Your head whipped back to the pond, hearing rustling and the snapping of branches coming from the ferns opposite of you. If it was one walker, you could handle it. It would probably fall in the pond anyway, making your job easier.

You almost gasped when you saw a flash of reddish-brown come out from between the greenery- you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head. It was just a fox who had come to the pond to drink some water.

You examined the animal- he looked unhealthy, but still beautiful. His fur was matted and he looked malnourished. You noticed the nick in one of his black ears and wondered how he got it. His fur looked like a flame, contrasting against the green grass and moss. He had ears that looked like they were too big for his head. Deciding to watch from afar as not to startle the animal, you sat cross legged by the shore of the lake. Your eyes shot up when you noticed the blood dripping down one of his hind legs- he had a massive cut on his leg. It went all the way from his hip to his paw, coloring his fur crimson. As soon as he tried to swallow the water, he began heaving and choking, his breathing became shallow. Eventually, he collapsed on his side.

You couldn’t just sit back and watch this poor animal die. You didn’t have the heart not to help him, and you had to admit it- you were lonely as hell. Anything would do, even the company of a wild animal in need. You jumped up from the grass you sat on and ran into the water, trying your best not to slip on any of the rocks that littered the bottom of the lake, which was shallow enough for you to cross without needing to swim.

You ran up to the fox, contemplating what to do. His leg was bleeding badly, you needed to stop it or he wouldn’t make it until morning. It looked at you, terrified.

“Fuck, shit, what the hell do I do?” You tried not to panic but couldn’t help the string of curses escaping your mouth.

Suddenly, you got an idea. You remembered that your knife’s handle was wrapped in bandages, and even though you hated the idea of sacrificing the comfort of having the handle wrapped in them, you decided that he needed them more. You weren’t sure whether to bring your backpack and knife to the other side of the pond or take the animal to your makeshift camp under the willow.

You decided on the latter, picking the fox up as gently as you could and walked into the water, holding him up so he didn’t get wet. As soon as you made it to the other side you carefully laid him down on the grass, making sure not to touch his injured leg. You quickly grabbed Artemis and unwrapped the bandages from the handle.

“You better be grateful” you said, half to the fox, half to yourself. If Jake could see you right now, he would be so mad. He would tell you not to waste resources on a dying animal that will run away or die anyway. Maybe he was right, but you couldn’t help yourself. You saw a lot of yourself in the fox, scared, tired of running away, afraid of anything and everything.

You sighed and grabbed the bandages, ripping them in half.

“This might hurt, but I promise I’m trying to help” you whispered under your breath and gently stroked his head. He didn’t flinch or bite you, probably because he didn’t have enough strength to do so. You took a deep breath and grabbed one half of the bandages and pressed them against his wound, flinching when the animal shrieked due to the sudden pressure on his wounded leg. You knew you were helping but couldn’t help but feel bad. You noticed it was getting dark, looking around with your hands still firmly pressed against his wound. You sighed, knowing you’ll need to light a campfire soon.

Once his bleeding seemed to lessen, you let go of his leg and looked at your hands. They were covered in blood, but it was nothing new. ‘Better than walker blood, I guess’ you thought to yourself as you made your way over to the pond to wash the blood off and quickly returned to the animal.

“Now, this won’t hurt as much but I’ll need you to stay still” you looked him in the eyes and stroked his head, between his comically big ears. He seemed to calm down, looking at you with less terror and more confusion.

Taking the other half of the bandages, you kneeled next to him and gently lifted his leg, trying to cause him as little pain as possible. He didn’t make a sound this time and let you wrap the bandage around his leg. You couldn’t help but think that he must know you’re helping. You knew it was a stupid thought, but something in his eyes and the way he calmed down whenever you stroked his flame-colored fur told you he trusted you.

“I will be right back, I promise. I just need to get a fire going because someone forced me to get into the pond again and I need to dry off.” You explained, smirking, noticing how good it felt to finally have someone to talk to- even if it was a confused, wounded fox.

Once you gathered all the wood and branches you could find, you laid them down in a pile and surrounded it with rocks so the fire wouldn’t spread. Grabbing your backpack, you pulled out a lighter and looked at the smoldering branches. Poking the wood a with a stick a few times, you finally sat down next to the fox again and watched the flame grow.

Then, you remembered- you had a water bottle and a package of dried jerky in your backpack. Smiling, you pulled them out and took a sip of water and opened the jerky. The foxes ears shot up when he heard the rustle of the plastic wrapping. He looked at you and licked his snout, giving you puppy eyes.

“Oh, come on man. This is my last food! I literally don’t have any more.” You whined, hoping that the animal could somehow understand you. Sadly, he couldn’t. His gaze flickered from the piece of jerky to your face. You sighed and gave in when he flipped over, so he was laying on his stomach, his tail moving gently, kind of like a dog wagging its tail when it sees its owner.

“There you go” you dipped your head, handing him the piece of meat, the fox gently taking it from your hand, as if afraid to graze you with its sharp teeth “But if I starve, it’s on you” you pointed your finger at him, once again hoping he understood.

The fox ended up eating all of your food, but the second his head pushed against your hand, shuffling over so his head was on your lap, you knew it was worth it.

“Feeling better, huh?” you gave his head a pat with a smile, “I know you’ll be gone in the morning, it’s okay. Go when you want to” you were surprised by yourself, by how much you missed speaking to another living creature.

You heard a branch snap on the other side of the pond and your head shot up, just like the foxes ears. You both looked at the source of the sound, but couldn’t make anything out- it was too dark. You lifted the animal’s head off your lap as gently as you could and grabbing your knife, made your way to the shore of the lake. Feeling bold, you sheathed the blade and grabbed two big rocks, banging them against each other.

“Come on, you dead fuck! Come up here so I can get this over with and sleep in peace!” you screamed, trying to lure the walker out, but nothing came out. Not even a single undead moan. You stood by the shore for a while, making sure that it really was nothing before coming back to sit with the fox, the animal once again put his head on your lap.

You looked over at him and ran your hands through his fur “What do you think? Was it just an animal?” you genuinely hoped that the fox would tell you, all you wanted to do was relax for a few hours, maybe get some shut eye. He just looked up at you and moved his head into your hand, wanting to be pet some more. After making sure you would keep petting him, he laid his head in your lap.

“So that’s what I am? A pillow, huh?” You whispered gently, loving the feeling of a wild, elusive animal trusting you.

You opened your eyes and rubbed them, sighing. You haven’t slept this well in a long time. No noises woke you up, you didn’t even have a nightmare.

You expected the fox to be gone, back in the wild, tearing your bandage off with its teeth, but you were wrong. He was sitting curled up beside you, awake, as if keeping watch. You grinned and ruffled his fur lovingly, holding yourself back from kissing his head- you had to admit it, he was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“So, since you insist on staying, what’s your name, huh?” you looked at him, still stroking his fire-colored pelt. “Floppy? ‘Cause you know, the ears.” You grimaced and shook your head, “Nah, you need a more badass name. Like… like the most badass person I know. Jake. You like that?” he squeaked, resembling a bark but more high pitched. He suddenly stood up and you glanced at his leg. He was standing on all four legs, not even a limp. You guessed the wound wasn’t as deep as you thought. He trotted over to something and came back to you, looking up at you and walking back to whatever he wanted to share with you.

“What is it, huh?” Curiously, you went over to where Jake was standing. He was sniffing something, looking at what he found and then flicking his gaze back to you.

Kneeling down, you were surprised to see a small bag. It wasn’t there yesterday. Concerned, you opened it and saw a water bottle, a bag of dried jerky, a dead squirrel and some bandages.

“What the—“ you couldn’t finish as you saw Jake put his snout inside the bag, getting stuck. You laughed a bit and pulled it off his head. He shook his head, sneezed and licked his nose. Reaching into the bag again, you saw one more thing. A note.

“SQUIRREL FOR THE FOX”

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve been having this god awful itch for (lowkey) Yandere Scumbag Hawks.

Could be friends to lovers... if you squint? Slow burn? But not really? Uh....

Female! Reader

TW: Scumbag Hawks, Lowkey Yan, Breeding, Dubious consent, Hawks in a rut, Hawks has a knot simply because I deem it so.

You, a normal civilian, happen to stumble across a weakened pro hero Hawks who took an emergency landing on your apartment patio.

Of course you’re not going to leave him there; as warm as his coat may seem, what’s the point of leaving him out in the snow when you’ve got a nicely heated apartment you could let him in to.

Either he’s gone through some seriously rough shit or he’s a lot more out of it than you think, but he nearly scares the piss out of you when he points a feather blade at you, eyes wild and furious, before slowly registering that you’re just a normal civilian.

He grins— it’s more of a grimace than a grin, really— and moves the blade away from you, laughing sheepishly before breaking into a cough. When he moves his hand away, you can tell there’s blood on it.

“Sorry about that, pretty bird. Wasn’t expecting anyone. I’ll be taking off now.” He tries to climb to his feet, but he’s a lot more battered than he’s willing to show.

“Wait! Why don’t you come inside for a bit? Get some energy back before you go flying off to some other balcony.” You offer, and he smiles wryly.

“Would that be alright? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Of course! Come in, come in!” You usher him in as he limps, helping him to the couch before going and shutting the patio door.

It turns out he ended up needing to stay a lot longer than either of you originally planned; a surprised snowstorm hit late into the night, forecasted to last for some days. He said that he could always try to brave it if you felt uncomfortable with a “strange man” in your apartment, but you only laughed it off.

“Honestly, with how often your private life gets invaded, you’re by far one of the least strange people.”

——————————

He ends up having to stay three days before the storm calms down, but he’s gotten significantly better since then.

Originally, you were worried about the blood in his cough, but it turned out to be a side effect of the blistering cold winds being harsh on his throat and a rough hit to the chest that left him winded and coughing, but nothing more.

The three days he did stay were rather enjoyable, and you found yourself missing his company when he had gone.

You didn’t think much of it though; he’s a pro-hero with an image to upkeep, so you doubted that you’d see much of him personally after this.

But ever the surprise, you found him knocking on your patio door not even a day later, grinning and holding up a bag of food.

“Thought it would be nice to at least return the favor. For taking care of me, y’know?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Hawks. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“Eeeeh, still. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see a pretty bird again.”

——————————

And just like that, you came to have an unexpected friendship with the No. 2 pro hero.

Whenever he needed a quiet place to crash or some company, you found yourself leaving the patio door open.

In turn, if you ever felt unsafe or if you had a bad day at work, a simple brush of the feather he’d given to you was all it would take to send him flying your way.

Monthly visits turned into bi weekly visits, then into weekly visits, then every other day. Soon enough, he started coming every evening. “What’s a meal without good company?” He’d said, holding food in one hand and drinks in the other.

“All that fried chicken isn’t good for you, Hawks. Let me cook you some actual food every once in a while.”

——————————

When he had suddenly disappeared for a week, you were concerned, but didn’t want to push him. Then two weeks went by with no Hawks, and you started to get worried.

When the third week rolled around, you unconsciously gripped the feather that hung around your neck, screaming in shock when there was a sudden **”THUD”** against the patio window.

“Hawks!? What are you doing?!” You try and check his face for bruising or bleeding, but he tried to bat at your hands weakly,

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Felt you touch your feather, so I came.” You wince,

“I’m sorry about that. It was an accident.”

“Ah, no worries. I’ll just head back home then.”

You fully intended on letting him go, but your mouth tended to work faster than your brain sometimes.

“Um, actually, Hawks...” you start, only to freeze when he faces you,

“Yeah?” You’re silent for a moment, then you shake your head,

“No, it’s nothing. Sorry.” You smile, but he doesn’t turn to leave again,

“Nah, I think there’s something on your mind. What is it?”

“... I just wanted to make sure I didn’t... offend you, or something. You’ve been gone for a while and I just...” you shuffle a bit, “I mean, it’s not really that big of a deal either, y’know? I just— heh— If you’re just tired of coming around all the time, that’s cool too.”

He looks baffled for a moment, then the realization crosses his face. You think for a moment you see him trying to plot something, but it’s gone before you can think on it.

“I um.... actually... do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not. Feel free to do what you like.”

He takes a seat on the couch, his wings ruffling and fluffing up before they settle again. A part of you wonders if you really should have looked up bird behaviors.

“I.. started my rut, but I didn’t think it was possible.” And suddenly you start to feel a little stupid.

“O-oh... I— uh— I’m sorry.” He wheezes out a laugh,

“No, no, it’s fine. I should have said something instead of just disappearing.”

“Well, I mean, that’s your private matter so—“

“Technically yes, but... also, you have a right to know. You are the reason I went into a rut, after all.” Your jaw drops for a moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Not to say that I’m trying to blame you— I’m really not. It’s just... you know how you’re always cooking meals, letting me in?”

“Y...yeah?”

“My body thought I was trying to nest, so... it put me into a rut.”

“Ah... I see.”

You both sit awkwardly for a moment, so he stands and moves to leave.

“Anyway, sorry about that. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come around anymore.”

“I, well, no. Wait!” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, making him halt,

“If... if it’s my fault, I want to help.”

“I, uh, w-well... it’s not— I— you know we’d have to fuck, right?”

You’re both bright red, you more than him, but you nod wordlessly.

“Well... so long as you’re willing to take responsibility...” he mutters. You’re too busy looking at your feet to see the wild grin on his face,

—————————

“Fuck, Hawks!” You yelp, his cock plunging in and out of you roughly,

“Shit, sorry baby bird...! Your pretty little cunt’s just sucking me in!” He growls, his hands pinning your shoulders down.

You’re stuck with your face in the mattress, ass in the air. With him looming over you, feathers spread across your room, shuddering in time with his wings, the only think you can hear is the wet slaps of his hips smacking into yours.

“Hawks...! You gotta slow down...!”

“I’m trying, but your greedy little pussy won’t let me go!”

You whine, head fogging over when his cock somehow manages to push deeper.

“See? You’re just sucking me in, baby!”

You feel the brush of more feathers falling onto you, shivering and tickling your already overheated skin. His claws dig into your shoulders when you twitch, making you borderline scream and clench tightly around his cock.

“Ooooh fuckfuckfuckfuck fffffUCK! Keep squeezing just like that, pretty bird. Tighten around my fat fucken cock!” You feel him drape himself over you, his chest pressed to your back, wings closing around the both of you as much as they can.

You suddenly feel something stretching and tugging at your entrance, and you start to squirm again.

“W-wait! You promised to pull out...!”

“How am I supposed to pull out when you’re the one squeezing so tight??” He growls, thrusts getting more frantic,

“Hawks!”

“Ffffffuck— just shut up and take it. Take my fucking cum—!”

You cry out sharply when his knot fully inflates inside of you, the sudden stretch sending you flying over the edge with him.

“Hawks...”

“Shhh.... this is all your fault, remember?”

“But you promised—“

“And I tried, but your cute little cunt just wouldn’t let go, pretty bird. You were practically begging for me to fill you up. Get you pregnant with my little chickadees.” He rubs your belly,

“But that’s okay, right? You said you wanted to take responsibility, remember?”

“Yeah—“

“Then take responsibility, baby. Have my chicks, and I promise I’ll take responsibility too.” The words to argue back are stripped from your mouth when he starts grinding his still knotted cock into you, making your mind go blank,

“C’mon, pretty bird. Say it for me. ‘I’ll have your chicks, Keigo’.”

“Ha—“

“Uh-uh. Not Hawks. Keigo.”

“Kei—!” Your voice cuts off into a silent scream when he hits the sweet spot deep inside you,

“C’mon, baby. Say it and be mine.”

—————————

You don’t remember if you ever actually said it all those years ago, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

You smile as you rub your swollen belly, watching as your eldest son and his little sister play in the yard.

“C’mon, kids. Time to go back in. Daddy will be home soon.”

“Okay!!”

And, sure enough, not even 10 minutes later, you hear the front door open, the voice of your husband echoing through the house.

“Where are my little chickadees?”

[trashyswitch]

Day 28: Evil Demons

Remus is being a demon…like always.

Roman: “Uuuuuh...Someone stole my sword.”

Remus:

Remus: *Licky lick*

Roman: “YOU LITTLE DEMO-”

[End conversation]

[Day 1, 8:39pm]

Patton: “Good morning kiddos!”

Roman: “THTO D JR JTGJ F FH GHD JRD GJDJT”

Patton: “...”

Roman: “DEMONBROTHERSTOLEMYSWORD!”

Patton: “........Remus, give him back the sword.”

Remus: “But I wanna fuck it!”

Roman: “NO!”

Patton: “Remus, watch your language.”

Roman: “FORGET HIS LANGUAGE! HE’S TRYING TO SHOVE A SWORD UP HIS BOOTY HOLE!”

Logan: “Dear Remus;

I would strongly recommend that you don’t put a sword in your anus. The sword is very sharp and it will most likely penetrate your intestines and rip several holes in such intestines, rendering your ability to eat deodorant impossible.

Sincerely, Logan”

Roman: “Aka: GIVE ME BACK THY SWORD!”

Remus: “But the mace is too biiiiig!”

Roman: -_-

Remus: “Also, Logan said Anus.”

Logan: “Dear Remus:

I would strongly recommend you don’t shove a mace up your anus. Again, the mace would be cutting through your intestines like it’s the consistency of butter. And not to mention the amount of pain that you would be in. You remember what pain feels like, right?”

Sincerely, Logan.”

Remus: “HA! HE SAID ANUS AGAIN!”

Remus: “Also NO ONE CARES, GRAMMARLY!”

Roman: “The only thing I understood from that whole paragraph...was PAIN!”

Logan: “:,(”

Patton: “Awww, you made Logan sad. :(”

Remus: “Boo fucking hoo.”

Logan: “How do you feel, Remus?”

Remus: “Oh, just fine. Just...Trying to g3t the roght angly…”

Roman: “Janus help!”

Snek boi: “Nah”

Roman: “WELL, DUCK YOU THEN!”

Patton: “ROMAN!”

Roman: “I SAID D U C K”

Patton: *ducks*

Roman: “Bahaha”

Logan: “Dear Patton;

I understand your joke.

Sincerely, Logan”

Virgil: “ You know you don’t have to sign off on every text, right?”

Logan: “Dear Virgil:

Noted.

Sincerely, Logan”

Virgil: “-_-”

Patton: “Wow...Now that’s definitely disappointment.”

Virgil: “Got that right.”

Logan: “My nonexistent feelings have been hurt.”

Patton: “Awww...I’m sorry.”

Virgil: “Your non-existent feelings are non-existent. You should be fine.”

Logan: “I am fine. I am just stating that if I did have feelings, they would be hurt in this scenario.”

Patton: “Logan, please stop lying.”

Logan: “I’m not lying.”

Patton: “Yes you are. You have feelings too.”

Logan: “Logical sides lack feelings, Patton.”

Patton: “...E=MC Scared...”

Logan: “...I was under the influence of Virgil’s room at the time…”

Virgil: “Yeah, my safe space does that to people.”

Logan: “I have many regrets.”

Patton: “AHA! So you have REGRETS! REGRET COMES FROM FEELINGS!”

[Logan left the chat]

Patton: “No wait! I love youuuuu!”

[Patton left the chat]

Remus: “...I’m bleeding out my ass!”

Roman: “I am trying not to barf right now.”

Janus: *sips tea while watching this all unfold*

Patton: “TICKLE TIME!”

Roman: “EEP!”

Logan: “Y’all better run...am I saying that right?”

Roman: “AAAAAAAAA- Yes. AAAAAAA”

Janus: *sips tea*

Roman: “HOFhRID EJ W Hjc rhF hfjj tFJJKHE”

Logan: “I hear hysterical laughter.

Virgil: “That’s Roman’s laughter.”

Logan: “How do you know that?”

Virgil: “his voice is even higher than ours…”

Logan: “Oh yeah…”

Roman: “HELP! Ajf sh HFHW JVNVj th h jbjbrbh keajgj tbyn sdkFKENHX HWBR rjdhnfjsl lejtrJNRNWJAiv krj tj yj HELO! sxlwje KMEKC KSejdj krjtiesk mcnsV KMRm gnnckvkenf krkk skek reksdvf kdcvf\”

Patton: “Sorry about the spam. Roman’s trying to text on his phone.”

Logan: “Why aren’t you trying to yell?”

Roman: “FJSJWLEJCH RJLDLF LLRkfklrkd RKKEKS: {jRJWJCf jJRNBW”

Logan: “Again: Why aren’t you trying to yell?”

Patton: “He’s really ticklish to vibrations! Keep texting me! It’s working!”

Virgil: “O”

Virgil: “k”

Virgil: “.”

Virgil: “H”

Virgil: “i”

Virgil: “t”

Virgil: “h”

Virgil: “e”

Virgil: “r”

Virgil: “e”

Virgil: “!”

Roman: “FJKJR J jNRJD SSKF!”

Patton: “Yes! It’s working!”

Logan: “Type normally…”

Virgil: “Hehehe...Worth it.”

Logan: “Why”

Virgil: “Because”

Roman: “RJSNCN BWBH BEBWGAG DV EGEB CHSJRK RHW KEKFKJ KEKFJS”

Remus: “Hey look! He typed a word! GAG!”

Logan: “Is he actually gagging?”

Patton: “Nope! He’s just laughing.”

Logan: “Okay good. Have fun Roman.”

Roman: FAEJFHDBD RBbebfo mvnbrwhi”

Patton: “Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!”

Logan: “You don’t have to write it to us. We’re not being tickled.”

Virgil: “dasfjkrmttdsfp[ofv- HOW CAN YOU TYPE THAT?!”

Patton: “Oooooh! Does the tickle word give you the tickly butterflies?”

Virgil: “......No.”

Janus: “Welcome to chaos, everyone.”

Remus: Someone call an ambulance.”

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Oh, Loverboy: Part 6 (everyone x everyone, Star x Fem!reader centric)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: slight angst, cursing, blood, gore

Word Count: 1.7k

You draped yourself over Michael like a spell of protection, resting your head on his shoulder and sitting besides him on the step. The boys had attempted to give him some bullshit about "if you want to see Star again" and you'd scoffed. Since when was David in charge of that? You and Michael had moved further down to the stairs, and you were holding his hand and ignoring the gang of bikers.

You knew that the boys were hazing him. They were stupid boys, that did stupid things like that. And you really didn't understand how David expected to get laid after Michael muttered what had happened in the last few nights.

"They made you jump off a bridge?" You asked, your voice reaching a higher pitch even if you tried to keep it low. You looked over at the boys, your glare sharp enough to make them bleed. You were livid. Perhaps it was your developing crush, or just the fact that Star liked him, but, either way, you couldn't believe them. If he hadn't drank from the bottle, you were almost sure they would've let him fall. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference.

You knew the boys could be jealous shits sometimes. Never with eachother, their own bonds were too strong for that, but outsiders? Unknowns? Especially ones as handsome as Michael? And especially ones that seemed to catch both your and Stars attention? You knew that this was probably some stupid masculinity thing. A stupid jealousy thing. Or maybe they were just assholes, plain and simple. Regardless of the reason, you were furious. For Michael, for Star, for yourself.

"They- they didn't make me-" Your glare had flicked to Michael and he, at least, had the sense to shut up. He gave your hand a squeeze, and tried again. "You don't- You don't need to be mad at them. I can handle myself." He said, and you stared at him. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts, and you immediately blamed the way he was acting on a stupid masculinity thing as well. It was obvious that he couldn't handle himself. He'd drank from a bottle, willingly jumped off a bridge, and who knows what he would've done tonight if the boys had had the chance to goad him into it. He was too easily swayed, wanted to fit in too much. He didn't know when to take a stand, when to- You paused for a moment, your eyes glancing up when you felt a cold hand tickle the back of your neck. You glared daggers into a new pair of blue eyes. Oh, they were definitely planning something.

David wouldn't have walked over himself. You were too mad at him for that. Marko, well, he was David's lapdog at the best of times. Sending him over would've been too obvious. And Dwayne? Dwayne would've meant they were desperate, and it definitely would've raised some alarms. But Paul? 

Paul could talk his way out of anything. You'd found that out multiple times. You couldn't stay mad at him long, even if you wanted to. There was something about that stupid smile of his. Or maybe it was the fact that he looked like he didn't have a thought going on in his head. How could he have ulterior motives if he couldn't think of any? But you knew that was all a facade. Sure, he was a dumbass, but he wasn't stupid. You didn't ease up your glare when he took up your other side, and you watched as he pulled out a self-rolled cigarette. He was quick to light it, before offering you a smoke. You stared. You wanted him to get to the point, and you watched as he whistled lowly at the rejection.

"Someone's mad." He said, his voice light and teasing. Truly, you weren't in the mood. You stared at him harder, and you watched as he slapped his hands down onto his thighs. "Babe! C'mon, just-" He looked around, as if someone would help him, before he reached to scratch his neck. He was thinking, you could tell. Finally, he moved to wrap an arm around your shoulders.  "Just lighten up! We were just messing with him, alright? And, he's a champ, right?" He said, and you watched as he leaned over to hit Michaels knee. You glanced at Michael to see him nodding along, and you almost wanted to sigh at how quick he was to try to get approval from Paul of all people. Really, you were gonna have to have a talk with him about self confidence. "We just wanna go do boy stuff with him, okay? Cause he's like- He blew us all off yesterday and then spends the night with you guys. David only said all that stuff 'cause he thinks Mikey just wants to hang out with you and Star." And you stared at him. You clicked your jaw, looking between his eyes. It was hard to tell a lie from the truth with the blonde. "We were hurtin' real bad, babe. Just, y'know, letting our anger get the best of us. Honest." He said, and you watched as he placed a hand over his heart. 

Part of you wanted to believe that he was completely full of shit. The other wanted to believe that perhaps he was telling the truth. You stared at him for a moment, playing with Michaels hand in your lap. Either way, you were hesitant to let Michael go with them.

"Well, where's Star then? I don't wanna be here all by myself." You said, but, really, you were looking for any excuse to keep them from taking him. Paul gave you a grin that told you he knew the answer.

"She's back at the cave taking care of Laddie." He said, and you frowned just the tiniest bit. So, she wasn't on the boardwalk. It made sense. With how many times you and Michael had gone down the boardwalk, you would've been pissed if you'd just missed her. You glanced back at Michael, missing the glance that Paul sent David. After a moment, Paul said, "Y'know, you could come with us. I'm sure David wouldn't mind." And you frowned at the idea. You wanted to go with them as much as you wanted to be a wet blanket.

"Pass." You said. You'd end up spending the entire time worrying about Michael or you'd probably end up getting spitroasted. While the second option didn't sound so bad, you wanted to introduce polyamory to Michael slowly. And the boys weren't exactly the best with that. You simply sighed as you ran a hand through your hair, deciding that you'd head back to spend the night with your girlfriend. Just before a thought occurred to you. "What are you guys doing tonight anyways? More bridges?" You snarked, and you watched as Paul leaned back with a grin. He said, as casual as could be,

"Nah. Just getting something to eat." And, from the look in his eye, you knew that you weren't going to be ditching them like you originally planned.

***

"Well, that went like shit." You said, kicking one of the branches and wrapping your arms around yourself. Michael had rejected the five of you, rejected your way of life. He'd seen you kill, seen you feed. He'd done exactly what Star had done. Well, kind of. He'd refrained from the smell, rejected his instincts. It made you frown, and you had the mind to wipe the blood off your face as you wondered about what made them different.

At least Star accepted that she'd have to do it eventually. If she wanted to stay with you, that is. She hadn't run away into the night. She'd come with you, back to the cave, and spent the night with you. You'd told her everything about it. How it felt, how it made you feel. How it eased with time. You were sure that if Michael had just listened, that if David wasn't so intent on scaring him, that you could've gotten him to do the same. Still, he was gone, and he didn't take the feelings clenching around your heart with him. The bubbling of hurt and betrayal. You could feel tears pricking your eyes, and, just like the blood, you tried in vain to wipe them away. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you quickly shook it off. You snapped, like a twig with too much weight on it.

"This is your fault!" You yelled at none of them in particular, and you turned to see that it had been David who'd tried to comfort you. But, in your rage, you didn't care. Things had been fine. Better than fine. Michael had liked you, and, less than an hour before, he'd been holding your hand and looking at you as if you were the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Hell, he'd been looking at you like that ever since yesterday. But you'd seen how his eyes had changed. How they'd been filled with confusion, fear, and resentment. And now the eyes of your boys were filled with confusion and hurt. It made you pause, hesitate. Hell, you didn't even hesitate with a kill. "I'm- in sorry. I- I didn't-" You didn't know what you were going to say. 

Before any of them could respond, your feet were off the ground. You were flying up high and fast, the night cloaking you in darkness and wind rushing against your skin. You didn't know where you were headed, but you needed to get away from them. You flew around aimlessly for a half hour before you realized you'd followed his scent all the way to the far side of Santa Carla, and towards a house in the middle of a green pasture of land.

You flew around the house, the only thing alerting your presence was the ring of a windchime. You followed his scent to what seemed to be a younger boys room, and said younger boy spotted you almost immediately. 

"It's one of them!" He yelled. You thought that was as close to an invitation inside as you were going to get, and you intended on taking it.