#hack no survey

[pagets]

not that she had a choice exactly but deb lying to lipka about ava knowing they slept together was still a version of protecting her cuz if deb really wanted ava off the show lipka could bury her like no tomorrow she thought getting cancelled from the tweet was bad? she would be truly blacklisted if he saw her as a threat her career would be completely doa

[scarlettcryptid]

wasted another 2 hours of my life using the god damn background check website that this store uses holy fuck

[makemoney2024sworld]

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How to Make $20 to $50 Every Day Online, Offline, Or at Home — No Matter Where You Are!

To make $20 to $50 daily, consider online freelancing or local gigs. Explore platforms like Upwork for remote work or offer services in your community.

Earning extra income has never been more accessible thanks to the digital age and the gig economy. Whether you’re aiming to boost your savings, pay down debt, or simply enjoy a little extra cash, numerous opportunities await. Leveraging your skills can lead to consistent online earnings, from freelance writing and graphic design to virtual assistance and social media management.

Offline, your options vary from dog-walking and babysitting to participating in research studies or selling items at local markets. Home-based avenues to consider include crafting, drops hipping, or starting a niche blog. With the right approach and a bit of hustle, reaching that $20 to $50 every day target is an achievable goal for anyone, anywhere.

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Credit: www.wsj.com

Introduction To Everyday Earning

Are you looking to boost your daily income with some extra cash? An extra $20 to $50 per day can add up quickly over time. It can help with bills, savings, or that little treat you’ve been eyeing. This guide unlocks the secrets of earning every day, no matter where you are — online, offline, or from the comfort of your home. Let’s dive into the world of everyday earning, turning your extra time into dollars!

Why Small Daily Profits Matter

Earning small amounts daily makes a big impact over time. Consistency is key. With as little as $20 a day, you could see an extra $600 in your pocket by month’s end. Let’s quantify why these daily earnings are significant:

Reliable cash flow: Daily earnings provide a steady income stream.

Financial security: Regular profits can reduce financial stress.

Goal achievement: Small steps lead to big goals, like a vacation or new gadget.

Diverse Opportunities To Earn $20-$50 Daily

Variety is the spice of life — and earning! There are countless ways to make $20 to $50 daily. Explore your skills, hobbies, and interests for the perfect fit. Here’s a snapshot of different opportunities:

Online EarningOffline EarningEarning at HomeFreelance WritingLocal Tour GuidePet SittingOnline SurveysHandyman ServicesCrafting and SellingVirtual AssistanceBabysittingHome Baking

Choose what matches your interests and start earning. With commitment, earning daily is simple. Embrace the journey of growing your income, one day at a time!

Leveraging The Online Marketplace

The online marketplace is a bustling digital environment where anyone can earn money. With a variety of platforms and niches, the possibility of making an extra $20 to $50 every day is within reach. Whether you excel in a specific skill or have products to sell, the internet provides countless opportunities to turn your resources into revenue. Let’s explore some effective ways to make money online.

Freelancing For Quick Gigs

Quick gigs can be a fast track to daily cash. Sites like Upwork and Fiverr offer tasks tailored to your talents. Follow these steps:

Create a profile highlighting your skills.

Browse job listings related to your abilities.

Apply for gigs you can complete swiftly.

Deliver quality work on time to build your reputation.

Skills in high demand include writing, graphic design, web development, and more. By focusing on quality and reliability, you build long-term relationships with clients, ensuring a steady flow of tasks and income.

Selling Products On E-commerce Sites

Selling products online opens doors to a global audience. Take these steps to start:

Choose a niche: Find products you are passionate about.

Find a platform: Use popular sites like eBay, Etsy, or Amazon.

Set up a seller account: Follow site guidelines for setup.

List items: Take clear photos and write honest descriptions.

Be price-savvy: Set competitive prices to attract buyers.

Manage inventory: Keep track of stock and update listings.

Consistency in listing new items and customer service are key to success. With persistence, your ecommerce venture can turn into a reliable source of daily income.

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Exploring Remote Work Options

The digital era unlocks a treasure chest of earning opportunities. It doesn’t matter if you’re lounging at home, sipping coffee in a local cafe, or traveling the world; making $20 to $50 daily is within reach through remote work. Let’s dive into virtual assistance and online tutoring, two lucrative paths that don’t chain you to a specific location.

Virtual Assistance Jobs

Imagine earning from the comfort of your living room. Virtual assistance jobs offer this luxury. With tasks ranging from managing emails to scheduling appointments, these roles cater to diverse skill sets. Below is how you can step into the world of virtual assistance:

Identify your strengths. Are you good with planning or writing? Match skills to services.

Build a sharp resume. Highlight relevant experience to stand out.

Explore job platforms. Sites like Upwork and Freelancer list numerous virtual assistant gigs.

The table below shows basic rates for various virtual assistance tasks:

Task TypeBasic Rate Per HourEmail Management$15-$25Content Creation$20-$30Appointment Scheduling$10-$20

Online Tutoring And Lessons

Share your knowledge and make money with online tutoring. Teach a language, offer math help, or provide music lessons; each session can boost your daily income.

Choose your niche. Pick a subject you excel in.

Gather resources. Prepare lesson plans and materials.

Find the right platforms. Websites like Tutor.com and VIPKid connect tutors to students.

Below are examples of topics you can tutor online with estimated hourly earnings:

Credit: gatheringdreams.com

Passive Income Streams

Think money while you sleep: that’s passive income. Extra cash flows in without clocking in hours. Perfect for everyone. Escape the 9-to-5 grind. Secure your financial future with smart passive income strategies. Turn downtime into dollars. Ready for some exciting ways to earn?

Investing In Stocks Or Cryptocurrency

Starting in stocks or crypto is a way to make your money work for you. You buy shares in businesses or digital currency. Over time, these can grow in value. Picking the right ones could mean a steady stream of income. Remember, there’s risk. Always learn before you dive in.

Steps to begin:

Choose a platform: Pick a user-friendly investing app.

Research: Understand what makes stocks or crypto valuable.

Invest Slowly: Start with a small amount you’re ok losing.

Earning Through Affiliate Marketing

Make money by promoting products online. Join affiliate programs. Share links on your blog, social media, or website. When someone buys through your link, you get a commission. It’s like being a salesperson, but online and on your own time.

Steps to become an affiliate marketer:

Find a niche: Pick products you’re excited about.

Choose programs: Look for ones with good commissions.

Promote wisely: Use SEO to draw in potential buyers.

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Monetizing Skills And Talents

Tapping into your own skills and talents can unlock consistent daily earnings. From crafting unique items to sharing your performances online, the opportunities are limitless. Discover how simple it is to convert your hobbies into a steady income stream.

Crafting and Selling Homemade Goods

Crafting And Selling Homemade Goods

Create and sell items from the comfort of your home. Start with materials you love to work with. Here’s a quick guide on how to get started:

Identify your craft: Choose something you excel at, be it knitting, woodworking, or jewelry making.

Quality matters: Make sure each item is made with care and to the highest standard.

Set fair prices: Research the market to ensure your prices are competitive yet profitable.

Choose a platform: Sell through Etsy, eBay, or start your own website.

Promote your work: Use social media and word of mouth to showcase your goods.

Performing and Streaming Online

Performing And Streaming Online

Showcase your talent to a global audience. You can earn through donations, subscriptions, and ads. Here’s how:

Select a streaming platform like Twitch or YouTube.

Create content that stands out and gathers a following.

Engage with your audience to build a community.

Monetize through platform-specific features, sponsors, or merchandise sales.

Credit: www.androidauthority.com

Maximizing Offline Income Opportunities

Earning outside the digital world is still vibrant. With a bit of creativity and effort, there’s money to be made. Here are some tried-and-true methods to pocket an extra $20 to $50 daily, whether you’re at home or out in your local community.

Local Service Offerings

Offering your skills locally can lead to consistent cash flow. Explore these popular services:

Lawn care: Mow lawns or provide landscaping services.

Babysitting: Help busy parents with childcare.

Pet sitting: Look after pets while owners are away.

Handyman services: Complete home repairs and simple renovations.

Create flyers or use local online boards to advertise. Word of mouth also goes a long way to secure gigs.

Participating In Focus Groups And Surveys

Research companies pay for your opinions. Focus groups and surveys are simple ways to earn:

Find local marketing research companies.

Sign up for upcoming studies that interest you.

Provide honest feedback and earn for your time.

Payments vary by study. Still, they offer fair compensation for your thoughts. Check local bulletin boards or community websites for opportunities.

Home-based Income Ventures

Earning from the comfort of your home has never been easier. From using space you already have to tapping into your gardening skills, opportunities abound. Whether you’re looking for a side hustle or a steady income stream, explore these home-based ventures. Let’s transform your living space into a money-making haven.

Starting A Home Garden For Profit

Turn your green thumb into greenbacks. Home gardening offers a wholesome way to earn. You sell fresh produce right from your backyard. Begin with easy-to-grow vegetables and herbs. Think about tomatoes, peppers, basil, and cilantro. Use organic methods to appeal to health-conscious buyers. Place ads on local online boards. Connect with neighborhood markets. They love stocking local goods. Here’s how to start:

Choose plants that thrive in your climate.

Start small to manage your garden easily.

Use social media to market your produce.

Offer bundles for a better value.

Renting Out Space Or Items

Your home is an asset — make it work for you. Unoccupied rooms? Idle tools or equipment? Rent them out. Platforms like Airbnb make space rental seamless. Offer a clean, furnished room for travelers. Parking spots are also in high demand in urban areas. Extra income comes from things you rarely use. Think power tools, outdoor gear, or even fancy dresses. Here’s a quick guide to get started:

Item/SpacePlatformTips for SuccessRoom or HomeAirbnb, VRBOProvide clear, quality photos and detailed descriptions.Parking SpaceJustPark, ParkleeHighlight security features and accessibility.Equipment or ToolsFat Llama, PeerRentersSet competitive prices and maintain your items well.

Remember to be clear about rental terms and conditions. Keep communication open with renters. Good reviews boost future business.

Frequently Asked Questions FAQ’s

Q. Can I Make Money Online Daily?

Yes, numerous online platforms offer tasks or services that can pay daily, such as freelance gigs, surveys, and content creation.

Q. What Are Simple Ways To Earn Money At Home?

Consider selling products online, doing remote freelancing, participating in paid surveys, or virtual tutoring as easy methods to earn from home.

Q. Are There Quick Tasks For Instant Cash Offline?

Absolutely, quick offline tasks might include dog walking, babysitting, or helping with moving, which often pay immediately after the service.

Q. How To Generate $50 With Minimal Skills?

Even with basic skills, you can make $50 a day by doing entry-level freelance work, performing odd jobs, or joining paid focus groups.

Q. Where To Find Legitimate Online Earning Sites?

Legitimate earning sites can be found through trusted job boards, freelance platforms, and reviews from reputable financial advice websites.

Q. What Passive Income Options Need Low Investment?

Creating digital products, starting a blog with affiliate marketing, or investing in dividend-paying stocks could offer passive income with minimal initial investment.

Conclusion

Embracing these strategies can lead to daily earnings between $20 and $50. Whether at home or on-the-go, these tips provide flexible options to increase your income. Take action, apply the methods, and start earning extra cash every day. It’s time to boost your financial journey and enjoy the rewards of persistence and creativity.

My Best Recommended & Proven Way to Make $100 Daily — Watch THIS Video FREE Training to START >>

Thanks for reading my article on How to Make $20 to $50 Every Day Online, Offline, Or at Home — No Matter Where You Are!

Affiliate Disclaimer :

This article Contain may be affiliate links, which means I receive a small commission at NO ADDITIONAL cost to you if you decide to purchase something. While we receive affiliate compensation for reviews / promotions on this article, we always offer honest opinions, users experiences and real views related to the product or service itself. Our goal is to help readers make the best purchasing decisions, however, the testimonies and opinions expressed are ours only. As always you should do your own thoughts to verify any claims, results and stats before making any kind of purchase. Clicking links or purchasing products recommended in this article may generate income for this product from affiliate commissions and you should assume we are compensated for any purchases you make. We review products and services you might find interesting. If you purchase them, we might get a share of the commission from the sale from our partners. This does not drive our decision as to whether or not a product is featured or recommended.

Source : How to Make $20 to $50 Every Day Online, Offline, Or at Home — No Matter Where You Are

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[femjaskierinreallife]

Hey! Use my code 9P8U6M on Eureka Surveys and unlock a short $1 survey just for signing up! https://eurekasurveys.page.link/8zZCYC8yto7KjEPd9

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Super Ghostly Farming

During their times exploring the infinite realms Sam had discovered ghost plants. And that the Fenton’s Ecto-dejecto makes them solid enough to grow in the mortal realm. The real surprise is that produce living seeds since they absorbed actual nutrient matter from the soil. No one is surprised she makes her mission to revive extinct species. Or that she accidentally mistook ghost plants from other universes as extinct plants to revive.

During this time Jazz found out about Dan and had Danny dig up the thermos so she can make sure the poor time displaced ghost can get some therapy. Danny was both shocked and relieved the therapy actually managed to reform Dan. The real turning point is when Dan’s escape attempt led to a good reveal with Jack and Maddie. However since his timeline was impossible now he started destabilizing. It was only thanks to being fused with another secret clone project Vlad was working that he was saved though now he is a halfa instead of full ghost.

But of course things can’t all be good. Due to her suit and all the time fighting ghosts Valarie has become ecto contaminated enough that she is now coming up on the GIW’s sensors. This leads to Danny rescuing her from them and red huntress officially reconciling and joining team phantom.

The GIW are also becoming even worse of a problem. Their Ecto sensors are getting more accurate and they have begun traffic stops as a first measure to quarantine the town. Dani had been caught but thankfully Tucker had hacked the GIWs communications system a while ago. Danny rescued his clone but damage had already been done and she had to retreat into her core. It it the size of a ping pong ball and looks like a glowing Pearl. Danny keeps it in a little pouch with him so she can feed off of his ecto.

Loosing their catch to Phantom was the last straw for the GIW. The now plan to nuke the city. In preparation they have all the roads blocked off and are going door to door with ecto scanners. Anyone with a low enough contamination are given a day to pack one bag each and they will be bussed out the next morning. This who set off the scanners are taken to a holding cell in town.

Green sticky note suddenly appear appears before Danny telling him to pack and get his loved ones into the specter speeder and flee into the infinite realms for a natural portal to another universe. There is no stopping tragedy if they stay.

Danny passes the messages to Sam, Tucker, and Val by text. Jazz however was shopping with Dan in his human disguise when the text went out. And they had been spotted by GIW agent. Of course with the amount of Ecto signals Dan and Jazz gave off it was shoot first. Dan protected Jazz from the worst of the blasts and flew her home but he was severely injured and reverted to core.

Meanwhile Sam has gotten her go bag ready (with an ecto thermos full of ghost plants and a bag full of revived plant seeds). Tucker and Val are also packed but they take a little extra time to execute a plan he had for a while. Val stealthed into a GIW computer survey and inserted a drive giving Tucker wireless access which he used to upload a virus that would delete the entire copy and send all files and programs to his PDA and the delete the original system before crashing it. As soon as he got the files and the virus uploaded she unplugged the drive and went to the Rendezvous point. Unfortunately that took a little too much time and the GIW were at his house.

Tucker hears them talking to his parents downstairs and thinks fast. He hides his bag and PDA on the roof and text Valarie to pick it up for him and to have her and phantom come rescue him from the holding cells down town he found from the files. Cause there was not enough time for them to get there because the GIW were breaking down his door . He just manages to smash his phone with a hammer so they wouldn’t know of the text before the GIW are in the room with their scanner screeching.

Danny was helping his parents get the speeder loaded up with his family’s and s Sam’s luggage, when Val arrives with her and Ticker’s stuff. He is in ghost form and flying the to the holding cells before she is finished explaining. Interesting Danny’s family, Sam, Tucker, Val and Vlad are the only ones contaminated enough that it would set off the sensors so Tucker and Vlad are the only prisoners there. The fight is only against robots and automated guns and won’t long but it is now morning and all the civilians and GIW agents are being bussed out of the danger zone.

Danny is opening Tucker’s cell and Val is getting Vlad out When there is a flash of light and sticky note.

“I will try to slow time down enough for you to get back to the realms, but the missile is laced with ectoplasm and I can’t stop it completely. Hurry.”

Danny’s time medallion makes him immune so he grabs his two friends and vlad and flies them to Fenton works watching as the missile in the sky is flying towards them at a pace he may barely outrun.

He gets to the ready speeder in the basement aimed at the portal and sees a very concentrated Clockwork holding his staff aloft with a bright purple glow. They pile in and zoom into the portal with Clockwork right behind them they just clear it into the ghost zone when there is a large blast behind them propelling them forward. And suddenly the hole in the realms is now closed. Danny exits the speeder and pulls Clockwork’s glitchy fading form in.

“I can reform from my core in my lair. ButI must see the infinity map.” Danny pulls out the map and hands it to the shaky ghost he marks two locations. One is his lair the Long Now, and the other seemed random. Then he shrunk into what looked like a golden gear with a round purple gem inside.

Danny made sure he put Clockwork’s core into the lair. The places seemed to be one single room with a pillow on a stand in the center. Very different from the maze of clocks and gears from the last time he was there. He placed the gear on the pillow and thanked clockwork even if he wasn’t sure he could hear him. When he left her doors automatically closed behind and chained themselves shut.

The second location was a natural portal to another universe. Danny guessed that was going to be their new home. But it was rapidly getting smaller. They flew the speeder through it soared over a lake and small forest before coming to a crash landing in a field on the Forrest edge. They get out and see road sign that says “Smallville ahead. Five miles.”

——————

Ok that is the most of the set up. Of course they landed in the Smallville area. Sam was smart and also stole some of the gold bullion her parents had and didn’t know she had the safe code. That is enough for them to buy a house and a few acres. She insisted on land to grow her revived plants. A lot of this plants I am basing on the Berries from the pokemon games and can be eaten and sold.

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert 🌊

Part-One /Fluff/1,886 Words

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Synopsis: In which when I first played pressure I just stood and stared at Sebastian’s character model for a solid five minutes. So this was born. yayayaya

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Army crawling on your knees and elbows, your chest rattles with your wheezing breaths. Truth was, you’d never been an active person. The most legwork you’d gotten in a day was typically at work, and even then, that was minimal. Suffice to say, being thrust into this shitshow of a scenario where running from constant threats was the norm, the situation couldn’t be anymore dire.

You wave a hand about in front of yourself, fanning away the disrupted layers of dust that fluttered in the cramped ventilation shaft as your rasping coughs bounce off the walls and create a cacophony of god-awful racket. You mutter a slew of curses to yourself, clapping your palm over your nose and mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle your coughing fit. It would be just your luck for a nearby eldritch-horror to overhear your pathetic, asthmatic-self in the vents and drag you out by the ankles. The thought alone brings an electrifying jolt of anxiety through your person, and if you had the space you’d be looking over your shoulder in paranoia. Alas, the best you could do was put your jittering nerves to use and crawl just that little bit faster. Honestly, it was an accomplishment in of itself that you managed to shimmy-shammy your adult self into such a claustrophobic passage in the first place. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve just marched straight past the most convenient and inviting looking vent in the world. Probably assuming it to be a blatant trap. Except, you did know better. Just a few feet ahead lay maybe the only place in the entire bowels of this hellscape where you felt you were well and truly safe.

Crawling out of the shaft like an NYC subway rat, you’re finally free to hack up your lungs in peace without fear of death by angler. At least, no death from this one in particular. Blindly you lean back to sit on your haunches, eyes straining to pick up any movement in the darkness.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your shoulder’s jump as a voice drawls from the far-side of the room. Soon after, a gentle glow begins to illuminate the occupied space.

Now with your gracious host offering you visibility, you blink your adjusting vision over to watch as Sebastian seemingly just wraps up whatever file he’d been perusing in the dark. Before you can even attempt to try and sneak a peek at whatever he’d been reading, said folder closes shut with a swift snap. The merchant then carefully tucks the item away into his inner-coat’s pocket. A shame, your snooping has been so swiftly shut down before it ever had a chance to begin- you pout at the missed opportunity. Sebastian catches your longing gaze fixated on his coat, and gives a condescending little pat to the area where you know the concealed document is to be hiding. Wordlessly daring you to even try. Cheeky fish.

“Not even a ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you’? I could’ve been dying in there!” You bemoan in a familiar way of greeting, gesticulating between yourselves wildly as you saunter forward. Sebastian, unphased by your usual eccentricities, drags an unimpressed eye over your much smaller form. Analyzing. Probably looking at your absolutely filthy diving suit- sweat-drenched and caked in dust, grime, and maybe even a little bit of blood as it was. At least you assumed so, if the distaste visibly evident in his features was anything to go by.

“I was hoping whoever it was would die a little more quickly.” Was his dry response, before turning his head in indifference; seeming to have found whatever it was he was looking for on your person.

You scoff, “I see chivalry really is dead.” You gripe without any real bite in your voice. Already beginning to survey the merchant’s wares. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him as he begins to preen over his nails, pretending to be checking for dirt. Or blood, you didn’t know the guy well enough to say for certain what he did in his free-time. Your attention travels upwards, from his large hands up to his round face. The light emanating from his angler’s bulb casts an almost ethereal glow to his features. Especially with the way his eyes gleam that cerulean blue that’s quickly becoming a favorite color of yours. In addition to these qualities, there’s a very light sprinkling of bioluminescent freckles smattered across his cheeks. Sort of reminiscent to that of stars. Idly your fingers twitch, the sudden urge to reach up and map them like constellations startlingly strong. All these qualities make Sebastian feel so surreal, so out of this world. In juxtaposition to all of that, you’re confident to say that if he had the means, he’d be snobbishly turning his nose up at you right about now. The mental image brings a small, secretive smile to your face.

Sebastian rolls his eyes- or at least, you get the impression that he does. His lack of distinctive pupils makes it hard to tell.

“Are you going to actually buy something today?” He snips, cocking out a hip. “Or are you just going to keep gawking at me?” The merchant sneers through grit teeth(or maybe that was just his face?).

Snapping out of your reverie, caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie-jar, blood rushes to your head as you grin sheepishly up at his accusatory glare.

“Sorry, you’re just…” you wave a hand up beside yourself, willing the right words to come to you. Sebastian, amused by your silent floundering, quirks a knowing eyebrow at you. As if saying ‘Go on?’ The soundless goading sends you into a mental spiral- what did that mean? What did he think you were going to say? God- you don’t want to accidentally offend him, but you also don’t want to sound like a complete idiot. You gulp, mouth opening and closing a few times as you attempt to formulate words that will appease him.

Seemingly tired of you embarrassing yourself, Sebastian moved to speak, assumedly in an act of mercy from this sad display. Quickly, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, before he could beat you to the punch.

“You’re just really pretty.” Mortified, you clap your hands over your mouth. Yup. Those are. Definitely words that you just said. To his face.

Muscles tensing, you brace for his reaction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, disgust, maybe? Mocking laughter, most probably. Any and all situations your brain can conjure up are absolutely humiliating in equal measure. However, as one moment drags into two, and the silence has still yet to be breached, you cautiously look Sebastian’s way. The sight that greets you is a rare one. The infamous Z-13, Sebastian Solace, is left speechless.

The Merchant’s smug expression falters, a look of genuine astonishment crossing his face. The dim light cast by his lure does little to mask the way his stature curls inwards slightly. A slight too much, in your opinion. You can see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching- as though internally wrestling with a response. Just as you had been a moment prior. The knowledge that he was just as at a loss for words as you were eases the tension in your shoulders, if only by a hair. Miser so does love its company, after-all. There’s a brief pause, heavy and awkward, until he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual.

“Pretty?” he echoes, almost disbelievingly. He then swallows, visibly thrown off-kilter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called… At-At least- that is to say, not in a good long while.” The second half of his sentence is murmured, as if mostly said to himself. But you had overheard, and he looks as if to have noticed the way your brows pinch in a confusing whirlpool of emotions. Mostly sympathy, pity, among other emotions neither of you were too entirely ready to put out on the table. God forbid you two express emotional maturity and speak plainly like adults. Sebastian flexes his long tail, the serpentine appendage looking as if it were going to either pull or push you away. However, before it can make any progress in either endeavor, Sebastian, -noticeably uncomfortable- clears his throat.

“Silly little thing.” He croons, swooping down from his towering height to give you a patronizing pinch to the cheek with his clawed index and thumb. “You should be mindful of your tongue, hmmm?” As he speaks, his usual edge returns to his voice. Your head helplessly tilts side-to-side with the motion of his ‘affection’. Affronted, and a little whip-lashed with his quick recovery, you swat the offending hand away from your face.

“Jerk! I was trying to be nice!” Despite the biting words, you can’t help but feel relieved to be set back on familiar ground. Whatever emotional vulnerability present in the moment prior was slowly ebbing away, returning to your regularly scheduled squabbling. Sebastian chuckles, bodily retreating to his previous stature and re-clasping his hands before himself with an echoing ‘clap’. You rub at your reddened cheeks, whether their heat was due to Sebastian’s rough treatment or from an entirely other emotion, was only for you to know.

Sebastian continues on distractedly, seeming to have already recollected his composure. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, you know. But… thanks.” You think you see his eyes dart away for a brief moment, before locking onto yours again. A curl of his typical smirk splaying across his lips.

You gasp dramatically, a goofy smile erupting on your face. “The mighty Sebastian? Saying thanks?” You tease.

Sebastian waves a hand about in the air dismissively. “Yeah yeah, just don’t let it get to your head.” He says, crossing his arms defensively. He steamrolls on before you get anymore wise ideas to- eugh, compliment him. “Now hurry up and buy something already!” He snaps, motioning to the various goodies strapped to his person. Not having to be told thrice now, you hurry and make your selections. Eager to move on from everything and anything to do with word ‘cute’. Nothing major, just a few batteries for the road and a mobile hacker or two. Sebastian seems to approve of your choices, and if the price he demands of you seems a little cheaper than the usual- well. You certainly weren’t going to complain.

Getting everything tucked neatly away and ready to go, you begin to trek back towards the vent before being stopped once more by Sebastian.

“Oh! And Traveller?” He calls. With an answering hum, you look back to maybe your only friend down here. The merchant in question seems to look like he’s turning something over in his head, before continuing with a withering sigh.

“Try not to get yourself killed out there, alright? I’d hate to lose such a profitable costumer.” He sing-songs grimly. Despite the harsh words, you can’t help but notice a slight undertone of warm endearment. Feeling like a certified Sebastian-whisperer, you pride swells in your chest at being able to read between the lines. With a barely concealed snicker at his thinly-veiled concern, you toss a final farewell his way before retreating. All throughout the next dozen or so rooms, you journey forward with a skip in your step. Feeling invigorated with newfound determination knowing that a certain merchant was counting on your safe return.

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eeeughh I’m so rusty with writing. Like. It’s not even funny how long this took me for just a one-shot? Idk I might continue this, I just suck so bad at staying motivated for fanfics. Anywho, hope any fellow Sebastian enjoyers out there liked this, there’s not enough content out there of him👍 please make more content guys pls I’m starved for the fics puh-LEASEE

[olive-main]

Hi hi! Ive just stumbled across your writing and i adore it so much! You capture Azriel so perfectly!! I don't really have much of a specific request in mind (but trust me, I'll think of one and come back if that's okay??) But could I ask for something with our Az and a super strong, independent, sarcastic reader. I just love the idea of totally smitten Azriel and just all the fluff. I'm so sorry this is so vague but

Happy holidays!!

No Damsels Here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A fiesty Valkyrie with a sharp wit and the brooding Shadowsinger find their lives slowly intertwined through training, quiet moments, and unexpected gestures, leading them to realize there may be a growing connection they can no longer ignore.

Wc: 2.7k

A/N: Ok be honest, did you hack into my account and read my drafts bcs….I had just the fic for this request rotting for far too long. I hope you enjoy, it’s not my fav since I think my writing is better now hence why it’s been in my drafts lol and it’s like semi proofread—BUT thanks to this request y’all get more fluff. Everyone say thank you! :b

Masterlist

——

The morning air is cool and sharp, biting at your skin as you jog toward the training ring, late as usual. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, its rays barely spilling over the horizon, but Nesta is already there stretching, as she is every morning. Ever the Valkyrie.

“You’re late,” she remarks as you step onto the mat beside her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tying your hair back. “Besides, I needed an extra five minutes of sleep. Someone decided to keep me up last night with her endless talking about smutty romance novels.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Don’t act as if you’re not interested in my books.”

Before you can retort, Cassian’s booming voice cuts through the quiet. “Alright, enough about your romance book things. You’re here to train, not gossip.”

You glance over the training grounds, your eyes instinctively flicking toward the familiar figure standing on the far edge of the ring. Azriel is adjusting the strap of his leathers, his wings half-furled behind him as he surveys the weapons laid out with his usual quiet focus.

Nesta catches the direction of your gaze and nudges you with her elbow. “Still brooding, isn’t he?”

“He’s not brooding,” you reply, a little too defensively. “He’s… serious.”

Nesta gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further as Cassian begins pairing everyone off for sparring.

“Y/N,” Cassian calls, grinning wickedly. “You’re with Azriel today.”

You blink, trying not to focus on how your heart jumped. Across the ring, Azriel’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

—

Sparring with Azriel is both exhilarating and frustrating. He’s fast—almost impossibly so—and he moves with a precision that leaves no openings. You’re strong and quick on your feet, but against Azriel, every strike feels like a gamble.

“You’re hesitating,” he murmurs, dodging your swing with ease.

“I’m calculating,” you snap back, twisting to block his next move.

His lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re thinking too much.”

“And you’re talking too much,” you retort, aiming a strike at his side.

He blocks it effortlessly, his wings shifting slightly as he steps into your space. For a moment, you’re close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar and something darker, something so distinctly him.

“Focus,” he says, his voice low and even, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens.

But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you smirk and lunge to the left before sweeping his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a soft thud, his wings flaring slightly to cushion the fall.

“Gotcha,” you say, planting your hands on your hips.

Azriel props himself up on one elbow, looking up at you with an expression that’s almost impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echo, laughing. “That was a textbook takedown.”

From across the ring, Cassian claps his hands. “That’s my girl! Show him who’s boss, Y/N!”

You smile proudly at Cassian, bowing exaggeratedly before turning back to Azriel with a proud smirk.

“Again?” he asks, his tone calm but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“Obviously,” you reply, and the sparring begins anew.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the ring after the session, toweling the sweat from your face as the others disperse. Nesta sits beside you, nursing a bottle of water and watching Azriel, who’s speaking quietly with Cassian.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nesta says, breaking the silence.

You choke on your water. “What?”

Nesta gives you a look, one brow arched in that infuriatingly smug way of hers. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been watching you all morning.”

“He watches everyone,” you argue, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Not like this,” Nesta counters. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s different.”

You shake your head, refusing to entertain the idea. “He’s just… observant. It’s his job.”

Nesta doesn’t respond, but her silence is louder than words.

—

Over the next few weeks, you start to notice the little things. The way Azriel lingers near you during training, offering quiet pointers or stepping in to demonstrate a move. The way he always seems to know when you’re pushing yourself too hard, handing you a water bottle or calling for a break just as your muscles start to protest.

And then there are the gloves. The day before you’d worn down your leather gloves to their last seam, small tears at the knuckles.

You find them waiting for you one morning, neatly folded and left on the bench where you always sit. They’re sleek and well-crafted, the leather soft and pliable. With your name written on a piece of parchment laid neatly on them, in his writing.

“Nice gloves,” Nesta remarks as you slip them on.

“They’re… new,” you say, frowning slightly.

“Azriel left them,” she says, her tone far too casual.

You freeze, glancing at her. “How do you know that?”

Nesta smirks. “Because I saw him put them there.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Azriel approaches, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Do they fit?” he asks, his gaze flicking to the gloves.

You nod, flexing your fingers. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

He inclines his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile before he turns and walks away.

“Hopeless,” Nesta mutters under her breath, but you don’t bother arguing this time.

—

It’s late one evening when Azriel finds you sitting on the balcony of the House of Wind, staring out at the twinkling lights of Velaris below.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft as he steps into the night air.

You glance over your shoulder, surprised but not unwelcome. “Something like that.”

He leans against the railing beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him. For a while, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching between you like a warm blanket.

Finally, Azriel breaks the silence. “Something is on your mind”

“Oh? Am I that easy to see through Shadowsinger?” you ask, turning to face him.

“No, not always” he says, his hazel eyes meeting yours. “But you only come out here when something is.”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. But before you can, he continues, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you ever want to, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his tone takes you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turns back to the view.

The silence stretches, comfortable but crackling with unspoken words. You lean your elbows on the railing, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Azriel doesn’t move, his presence steady beside you, a quiet sort of comfort.

“So,” you say at last, breaking the stillness. “Is brooding a full-time job for you, or do you just do it in your free time?”

His lips twitch, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the city below. “Depends. Are you asking because you want tips?”

A laugh escapes you, sharp and unrestrained. “Please, I could out-brood you any day of the week.”

Azriel turns his head slightly, enough that you can see the amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will,” you quip, straightening up and crossing your arms. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in the shadows.”

“I don’t cry,” he replies smoothly, his expression as impassive as ever.

You snort, shaking your head. “No, of course not. The great spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t have emotions, right?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and for a moment, you swear you see something softer beneath the usual calm exterior.

“Wrong,” he says quietly.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. Before you can respond, Azriel shifts, his wings rustling softly as he straightens.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and even.

“Sure,” you reply, recovering quickly. “I’ll need it for when I take you down in training tomorrow.”

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before he disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

—

The next morning, you’re determined to shake off the lingering feelings from last night. You throw yourself into training with a vengeance, sparring with Nesta and Cassian until your muscles burn and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t ignore the fact that Azriel’s eyes are on you. He’s not overt about it, of course—he never is. But you’ve gotten good at reading him.

“Do you think he’s capable of blinking?” you mutter to Nesta during a break, jerking your chin in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta smirks, following your gaze. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Hardly,” you scoff. “I just don’t want him pulling something from all that intense staring.”

“Maybe he’s impressed,” Nesta says, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes. “He’s impressed by my fighting skills, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Obviously,” Nesta echoes, her smirk growing.

“Don’t start,” you warn, grabbing your water bottle.

Nesta raises her hands in mock surrender, but you can see the gleam in her eye.

—

After training, you’re stretching near the edge of the ring when Azriel approaches. You glance up, noting the slight crease in his brow as he surveys the scrape on your arm.

“You should get that looked at,” he says, nodding toward the cut.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “Barely a scratch.”

Azriel doesn’t look convinced. He crouches beside you, pulling a small vial of salve from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm.

You consider protesting, but the look in his eyes stops you. So instead, you sit there, watching as his fingers work with careful precision, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve fussed over me this week,” you say, breaking the silence. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Azriel doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Is it working?”

The question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. So instead, you settle for sarcasm.

“Not yet,” you say, grinning. “But keep trying. You might get there eventually.”

His quiet laugh sends warmth curling through your chest, and as he finishes wrapping your arm, you find yourself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

—

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen with Nesta, raiding the cabinets for a late-night snack.

“So,” she says casually, popping a grape into her mouth. “What’s going on with you and Azriel?”

You freeze mid-reach, turning to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Nesta shrugs, far too nonchalant. “I mean, he practically hovered over you all day. And don’t think I didn’t notice him patching you up earlier.”

“It was a cut,” you say defensively. “Hardly life-threatening.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta leans against the counter, studying you with those sharp eyes of hers. “And the gloves? Or the way he’s always watching you during training?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m really not,” Nesta replies, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

“Well, even if he does… like me, that’s his problem,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet.”

“No,” Nesta agrees, smirking. “But maybe you’re someone who could use a little… sweeping.”

You throw a grape at her, and she laughs, ducking out of the way.

—

The realization of Azriel’s attention lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You try to shake it off—try to convince yourself that it’s just his nature to watch everyone, to care quietly. But there’s a warmth to his gaze when it falls on you, a softness that feels different, deliberate.

And once you notice it, you can’t stop seeing it.

Like during training the next day, when Cassian barks at everyone to do laps. You’re running alongside Nesta, your legs burning and breath hitching, when Azriel quietly falls into step beside you.

“Don’t overthink your breathing,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m not overthinking it.”

His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly. “You were counting your breaths.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone laced with mock offense. “You’re watching me breathe now? That’s not creepy at all.”

Azriel doesn’t rise to the bait, but the faintest smirk graces his lips. “Just trying to help.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But when you refocus on your breathing, following his advice, the run feels a little easier.

—

A few days later, you find yourself in the House of Wind’s library, searching for a book Nesta recommended, the one she had mentioned to you a few days ago. You’re muttering under your breath, cursing the ridiculously high shelves, when a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Need help?”

You whirl around to find Azriel standing there, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Not unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Azriel steps closer, his wings shifting as he glances up at the shelf. “Which one?”

You point to the book near the top, and without a word, Azriel extends a wing, brushing it against the shelf as he pulls the book down with practiced ease.

He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “There.”

You take the book, trying not to let the warmth of his touch distract you. “Thanks. I guess having wings is good for more than just flying, huh?”

His smile widens slightly. “They’re versatile.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to your tone.

Azriel doesn’t respond, just tilts his head as if studying you. The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on behind those hazel eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask finally, your voice sharper than you intend.

Azriel blinks, as though pulled from his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitates, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Maybe I am.”

Before you can press him further, he nods toward the book in your hands. “Enjoy your reading.” And then he’s gone, slipping back into the shadows as easily as he came.

—

The tension between you grows, subtle but undeniable. It’s not something you can ignore anymore—not when his gaze lingers just a second too long, or when his words carry a weight you can’t quite name.

One evening, after another long day of training, you find yourself wandering the halls of the House of Wind. You end up on the same balcony where Azriel joined you that night, the city lights below twinkling like stars.

You’re not surprised when he appears again, his presence so quiet you almost don’t notice until he’s standing beside you.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask, glancing at him.

“Rarely,” he admits, his voice soft.

“Figures,” you mutter, leaning against the railing.

The silence stretches, but this time, it feels charged, as though both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Azriel breaks the quiet. “You confuse me.”

You blink, turning to face him. “What?”

“You’re strong, stubborn, sarcastic…” He trails off, his lips curving slightly. “But you care. Even when you try not to show it.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his gaze meeting yours, “that you make it very difficult to stay in the shadows.”

His words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. You’re too busy trying to process the way your heart is racing, the way his eyes seem to see straight through you.

“Well,” you say finally, your voice quieter than usual. “Maybe it’s time you stepped out of them.”

Azriel’s smile is small, but it’s real. And in that moment, with the stars above and the city below, you feel something shift between both of you—something neither of you are sure you can ignore anymore. Not when he feels that golden thread that glows in his chest, connecting his soul to yours.

——

Are y’all interested in a tag list?? I’m gonna be more consistent in posting hehe.

Thank you for reading my lovely humans. Requests are still very open ;)

[fromthemouthofkings]

Okay, I'm thinking about the Murderbot TV show again, and how I would adapt it, and we're going to be robbed if we get anything less than a cold open to a scene of some obviously cheezy space drama, maybe an Overdramatic Human Woman In Green Facepaint overdramatically sobbing as she confronts a Generic Action Hero like "It's...it's your baby!!!" *cue three different angles of Generic Action Hero's shocked and surprised face* Generic Action Hero opens her mouth to respond, but we don't hear her voice, because her words are drowned out by a sudden roaring sound coming from offscreen. The audience gets jump scared by lashing tentacles that seem to whip across the screen, in front of the window where we were watching the space drama, and the camera zooms out until you see that the window was floating in front of MB's face, as MB stands on the edge of a crater and the survey team pokes around down below. A giant, tentacled space monster is emerging down below, the survey team is screaming, Overse is getting picked up and tossed into the air, on a trajectory heading straight for the monster's gaping jaws...

Everything slows down. The sound mutes. MB swears and launches itself towards the monster. The camera shakes and warnings blare and flash across the screen, but we don't see much of the action, because the camera swings in to focus on the floating window where the space drama (Sanctuary Moon. It's Sanctuary Moon) keeps playing, on mute, while Murderbot's voiceover delivers the line: "I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites..."

[vulpinewizard]

In The Murderbot Diaries: All Systems Red, an important plot point is the murder of the other survey team on the planet, DeltFall, by GrayCris. The first attempt to do so was via malware disguised as an upgrade package intended for their secunits. If it had been applied, GrayCris would’ve been able to remotely take over the secunits and force them to murder the DeltFall team.

(notably, this attempt failed, and GrayCris had to hack the secunits in person, but thats not important for this post)

Importantly, GrayCris sent this same malware to Preservation Aux at the same time, intending to take over Murderbot. Take a look at the reason Murderbot gives for refusing the download:

“I don’t do automated package updates anymore, now that I don’t have to.”

Throughout the series, especially early on, Murderbot will bring up two things: The memory wipes it had undergone, and the mass-murder at it’s hands that had prompted said memory wipes.

In Artificial Condition, Murderbot goes back to the scene of the crime to figure out why it committed mass murder.

As it turns out, malware disguised as an upgrade infected the system and causes the deaths of 57 people.

it might be a stretch to assume that Murderbot subconsciously remembers the cause of the incident. the upgrade package was sent to the comfortunits, not the secunits. But we do know that Murderbot hacked its governor module almost immediately afterwards, so that it couldn’t be forced to kill against its will ever again. It might be more accurate to call it a demonstration of autonomy.

The moral of the story seems to be that automatic updates are bad for security

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Rainy Days

Reader has a meltdown after a morning full of a series of unfortunate events. Luffy makes sure the reader doesn't have to deal with their demons alone.

angst to fluff. a little ooc for luffy i think, but It is purely self indulgent so what.

Oh reader also beefs with Nami sorry

It's been a long day. 

Well, it hasn't really been long, but it has been dreadfully exhausting. You aren't even sure where to start with it, to be honest. It's only noon. All you know is that you're strung so thin that the teeniest tiniest inconvenience will take the mountain of stress on your shoulders and crumple you under its weight. 

Where to start? 

Of course, when you fell asleep last night. 

You happened to fall asleep not in your bed, no. Not on the couch, either. The floor? Not a chance. No, you couldn't have fallen asleep in the lounge, or the aquarium, or on the soft grass on the deck of the Sunny. You couldn't have fallen asleep at the kitchen table, listening to Sanji clean up the remnants of dinner. Nor could you have dozed off in the safety of the survey room. 

You fell asleep hunched against the mast, sitting up in the crow's nest. While you were supposed to be on lookout duty. And now you're all caught in a terrible storm because of it.

You were shaken awake by Zoro at around Six, both of you fully soaked. The intense flashes of lightning illuminated the irritated look on his face, and he certainly chewed you out for not keeping a "better" watch, not warning the rest of them of the impending storm. Making your way down to the deck, your back aching, you were then chewed out by a very hacked off Nami, who also told you in very unkind terms that this could all have been avoided if you had just done your share of the job. 

The storm hadn't let up by the time you made your way to the bath. You were hoping at least maybe a hot shower would seep some of the chill out of your bones. But alas, the door was locked, and when you knocked, Brook called through that he would be a while, he was washing his hair. 

Okay, no shower. You had then trudged up to the girls quarters, looking forward to changing into some dry clothes. 

Robin had told you she was doing laundry. 

Fine. It was fine. You had thanked her for taking care of your share, and, still sopping wet, still aching, now with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose, went to the infirmary to see if Chopper had anything for the pain. 

"Nothing ready, I'm sorry!" He had said. "Take a warm shower or bath and change into some dry clothes, and I'll make sure to have it ready by lunchtime!" 

Yup. Great. Thanks Chopper, I look forward to it. 

Gritting your teeth, You step back out of the infirmary and go to the kitchen. Sanji is cooking away, so you try to stay out of his way as you walk to the fridge and put in the passcode, hoping to get a drink. 

Incorrect. 

Okay, maybe you put it in wrong. You tried again. 

Incorrect. 

You're sure you had had it right that time, so you called out to Sanji. 

"Hey, did you change the passcode to the fridge lock?"  

"Hm? Oh, yeah, Luffy figured it out." 

"What's the new one?" 

No answer. 

"Sanji? What's the new passcode?" 

No answer. 

Fine. No drink. Rubbing your temples, you left the kitchen and passed Robin, who was on her way to the library. She told you she'd hang the laundry to dry when the rain stopped. You thanked her again and walked back up the stairs to the observation room, where, upon entering, Zoro turned with weights in hand and accidentally smacked you in the head with one of them with a dizzying amount of force. He called out an apology after you, but by then you had turned around and stumbled down the stairs, falling onto your back in the wet grass in the storm. Headache worsening by the second, it was all you could do to stay conscious, but the icy rain and flashing lightning did well to keep your senses about you. You took a moment there to gather yourself, taking a few deep breaths as you gingerly touched your hand to the lump forming on the side of your head. 

What else could go wrong? You had just thought to yourself, when you had the wind knocked out of you by a foot landing on your solar plexus. Stars in your eyes, gasping for breath, you push yourself to a sitting position to hear Usopp calling out an apology that he hadn't seen you there. 

The deck is not even safe, you thought to yourself. You stand, only to be knocked over by a running Franky, carrying a large barrel of cola. 

It was still storming when you came to. Your head pounding, nauseated, you pushed yourself to your hands and knees, then to standing, wobbling your way back to the girl's quarters. You collapsed on one of the sofas, and your eyes had just slipped back closed when Nami had burst in to complain again, then harped at you about soaking the couch. 

That had all led you to now. 

You're cooped up in the Mini Merry, hugging your knees to the chest. Your hair drips onto your face as you sort through the day so far. It's still storming, and the way the Sunny is swaying is making your stomach churn.

You stay cooped up there until you stop seeing stars, dripping wet, and shivering. Thinking you're safe and alone, you press your forehead into your knees and close your eyes, wanting nothing more than a cold drink, a hot shower, and dry clothes. 

"What are you doing down here? You missed a super breakfast, you know!" Franky steps into view, fixing something in the paneling of the Sunny. You wince when he speaks, your head throbbing with each word. 

"Nothing's happened to me since I came down here," You respond hoarsely. Franky hums, pounding away with a mallet. You decide that the noise is too much and step out of the Mini Merry, hobbling towards the door. 

"Sorry for hitting you with that Cola barrel this morning," he says, putting a few screws in-between his teeth. You laugh dryly, waving him off. 

"That's not the worst thing to ever happen to me, I'll live."

"Oh, Brook told me to tell you he's done in the bath, if I saw you." Franky calls after you. You nod and go back upstairs and outside, hoping you can sneak into the bath without anyone else jumping in front of you. 

The torrential downpour has only gotten worse. You head to the bath, groaning in frustration when Usopp shoots in there before you make it. Well, he's covered in green slime, so you guess that's fair. 

When you walk into the aquarium bar, Sanji, Zoro, and Nami are all there. Nami shoots you a withering look, but you call Sanji's name before she can start. 

He doesn't hear you.

"Sanji! Can you please tell me what the passcode to the fridge is? I really need a drink." 

He's too busy arguing with Zoro. 

You'll just get a glass of water, you decide, and leave the bar to go back to the kitchen. Nami calls out after you that thanks to you, that sofa will probably mold, and buying a new one will definitely come out of your share. You don't answer, not wanting to fight. 

In the safety of the kitchen, you pull a glass out of the cabinet, and you're in the process of filling it when the door opens. Nami and Luffy walk in, Luffy with a big smile on his face. He says your name, grinning widely with a leftover piece of meat from breakfast in his hand. You smile halfheartedly, glancing back over them. 

"We're probably not going to get out of this storm for a while. It's all you can see for miles," Nami snaps. 

You finally snap back, swiveling and throwing the glass of water at her with all your might. She ducks out of the way, looking shocked, and it shatters against the wall behind her. 

"You know what Nami? I'm fucking SORRY I'm not perfect like you!" You yell. Luffy stops smiling, looking between you and his navigator. "I'm fucking sorry I fell asleep, like Zoro doesn't fucking sleep every time HE's on Lookout duty. I'm fucking sorry that I've got your precious couch a little wet, because I'm hurting and fucking exhausted and fucking soaked. I'm fucking sorry that I don't have anything dry to wear because all of MY shit is in the laundry. I'm sooooo fucking sorry that I'm not a perfect pretty little navigator that knows in advance that a huuuuuge fucking storm is on the way, or I obviously would have stayed up aaaaalllll fucking night. I'm fucking sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep! I'm fucking sorry that all I want is a hot shower, but Brook was taking his time washing his hair, and then of course Usopp shoots in after him covered in a thick green slime, I want something for pain because Zoro fucking accidentally slammed his fucking barbell into my fucking head, and Usopp stepped on my chest, and Franky hit me with a cola barrel, but Chopper doesn't have anything ready yet, and I haven't had anything to fucking eat or drink all fucking morning because Luffy figured out the passcode to the fridge and Sanji has been too fucking busy all morning to tell me the fucking new one. So I'm fucking sorry, can you maybe get that fucking stick out of that perfect ass of yours and STOP BITCHING AT ME!" 

You've drawn a crowd, the rest of the crew peeking in the door wide eyed at your outburst. Breathing heavily, you push past all of them, wobbling your way up the stairs and slam the door to the girls washroom behind you. Tears bubble up in you, and you hack out a few sobs, hugging your knees and burying your face in them.

You're in there so long you go from soaked to damp. By the time you've cried yourself out, your head is pounding so bad that you don't think you can stand on your own. 

There's a knock at the door, and it creaks open. You look up past your knees to see your Captain, the plain expression on his face giving nothing away. You bury your face back in your knees, not saying a word as he closes the door behind him and sits across from you.

"Look at me," He says. You peek out between your legs, and he frowns, reaching out to gently feel the lump on the side of your head. You suck air between your teeth, flinching away from his touch. "Zoro got you good, huh? I bet that hurts."

You nod, more tears welling in your eyes. Before you can start to cry, though, you sneeze, and Luffy cracks a smile. 

"You said you didn't have any clothes. Would you like some of mine until yours are dry?" 

You nod, and he holds out his hand to you. You vision doubles when you try to stand, causing you to stumble into him. 

"Getting hit in the head by Zoro is no joke," Luffy says. You nod again, leaning heavily against him. Luffy decides he doesn't have the patience to walk with you and slings you quickly onto his back. You lean your head against his shoulder, clasping your arms around him. He adjusts his hold on your legs and opens the door. 

It's drizzling outside, now, the relentless storm behind the ship. Luffy carries you down to the men's quarters, humming a pleasant sounding song quietly to himself. When you're in the men's quarters, Luffy sets you down on one of the bunks and opens his locker, rummaging through until he finds one his longer sleeved shirts, and a pair of cutoffs. He hands them to you, telling you to let him know when you're done changing. 

"What should I do with my wet clothes?" You ask. He points to the hamper in the corner of the room and closes the door behind him.

You feel a little better in dry clothes. You teeter back to the door, opening it to come face to face with your captain again. 

"Chopper said the medicine is ready if you are," He says. You nod, wrapping your arms around your Captain. He rests a hand on your back, tilting his head thoughtfully. 

"Are you crying again?" 

"I just don't-" You pause. "I don't think I've got what it takes, Luffy. I don't know if being part of your crew is right for me. I'm not good enough."

"Why do you not like yourself so loudly?" He asks, pulling you back to look at you with a hard expression on his face. "You're just as good as the rest of us. Don't let one bad day ruin you."

"If I hadn't fallen asleep-" 

"Everyone does it," He interrupts. "Besides, you're not a lookout, you're my seamstress and my barber. And you're excellent at those. I asked you to join my crew because you're strong, and you're fun to be around, and you're nice!" 

"I wasn't very nice to Nami just now," You blubber. 

"She wasn't very nice to you, either, from what she told me when I asked her what happened. She feels really bad about it." 

"I threw a glass of water at her!" 

"Zoro and Sanji fight all the time. Everyone isn't going to get along all the time, you know. You know how many times I fought with Ace? Did you know that before you joined Usopp tried to leave the crew, and he and I had a really intense battle? He also thought he wasn't good enough, but he's still here. If you let how you feel about yourself control your life, you'll never be able to go on fun adventures. What's your dream?"

"To see the whole world," You whisper. Luffy grins. 

"Let's go get you that medicine from Chopper. Then, I'll see to it myself that you have a better day from now on, Okay?" 

You nod, wiping your eyes. Luffy takes you to the sick bay, where Chopper gets you all sorted, then to the kitchen, where he jovially asks Sanji to make you a pre-lunch snack. By the time you've had something to eat, you're feeling much better. 

"Luffy, you don't have to hang out with me all day," You punctuate your words with a pull of your sewing needle through the shirt you're fixing for him, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He sits perched on the chair next to you, watching you intently. He shakes his head in response to your words. 

"Nope. The only thing I'm doing today is making sure you're okay." 

You pause. Look at him. Look back at the shirt in your hands.

You laugh. 

"Nobody," You say, pulling the thread tight and tying it off. "Has ever cared enough about me to make sure I have a good day all day. When I melt down like that, I'm used to being called crazy and left to my own devices- usually tucked away in a small space or room- until I've calmed down. I've never had anybody want to stay with me to make sure I'm okay." 

"So that's why you locked yourself in the washroom," Luffy hums, scratching his chin like some sage with his eyes closed. He looks at you, and in very Luffy fashion, it is an intense look. You look right back at him. 

"But," He says your name, with such conviction it makes your heart clench. "Nobody should be left alone when they're hurting like that. It's not right." 

"Just because it isn't right doesn't mean it never happens," You respond softly, ghosts from your past glazing your eyes over for a moment. Luffy shakes his head. 

"I'm going to make sure it never happens to you again, at least." He says stubbornly. You look at him, almost in shock, and wonder how on earth this 19 year old made of rubber is able to magically make you feel like you do deserve everything he's saying.

"Well, if you say so," You respond after a while. Luffy grins, plucking the shirt out of your hands when you hold it out to him. 

"This looks brand new!" He exclaims. "I have the best seamstress in the whole world on my crew!" 

"I don't-" 

"The best," He says again, smiling at you. Yet, the look in his eye is intense. "You are the best, and I wouldn't have it any other way." 

You blush, averting your eyes. Luffy follows you around for the rest of the day, hanging off of you like a sloth as you make your way around the ship. By dinnertime, your bad morning is a distant fading memory. 

And you are so lucky to have a Captain like Luffy to make it that way.

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

what is murderbot about friend👀

ohhhh my god ok.

so imagine, if you will, a free-loving, free-living society sending a team of scientists out to survey a new planet in hopes of finding a lovely place to further their community.

imagine, if you will, once they touch down on the planet, they realize their maps have been sabotaged. dangerous fauna is trying to kill them. their cameras are hacked and reporting them to god knows where.

imagine there are other survey teams on the planet. teams who have been thoroughly and mercilessly wiped out by an unknown force.

they are coming for you next, all blood and splattered skulls and twisted metal, and all you have to defend yourself is your courage, your faith in each other, and your Company-assigned guard robot.

now imagine. if you will.

that your guard robot hacked its own programming, hates people, is aroace, says the fuck word every 5 minutes, and just downloaded 7,000 hours of the greatest TV show in the world: a shitty Star Trek rip off with an in-universe rating of like 30% on rotten tomatoes.

hi, im murderbot, and you're watching my diaries :)

WHSGSHSH ok genuinely it's a sci-fi show based on a book series called The Murderbot Diaries which are all told in POV from the galaxy's most autistic aroace agender (it/its!) robot who wants nothing more than for people to leave it alone so it can watch its (bad) shows.

it's an EXTREMELY funny show and series with speckles of insanely heartfelt moments, and the cast is STACKED even aside from my darling murderbot (dw abt its name. it doesnt murder people. mostly.) we're talking a leader cut from the most "i would follow you to hell and back" cloth ever who's also in a polygamous marriage and has regular panic attacks, an active throuple between a biologist, a sillyass wormhole expert, and a nonbinary lawyer, a geochemist who just keeps doing surgery on people, and The Most Normal Man Ever who is only freshly non suicidal and non indentured and is trying so hard to be normal about everything (he's not succeeding).

there's autism on autism violence. there's anti capitalism. there's weird bug sex. there's surgery on a grape. there's a beautiful attitude of "all of you are so fucking stupid. i'd kill anyone and then myself to save any of you." there's sexual harassment against an ace person that is actually handled well (SHOCKING). there's alexander skarsgard making this face when people look at it too much

[ID: Three screenshots of Murderbot making a wide-eyed, frightened stare. End ID.]

it's a hilarious, earnestly queer, heartfelt show with a sick as fuck spacefaring mystery plot that genuinely i dont fully understand yet (i havent watched episode 9 so nobody say shit). it rocks so much. 10/10 has made me so much worse at eye contact. huge fan.

[comatosebunny09]

Self-aware Sylus, who’s been plotting to break free of the LADS universe for a while. He’s been plagued by dreams of someone, seeing their smiling face in his sleep every day. Each time he’s met them, the details of their countenance have become more evident.

Now that he knows he’s been manipulated, everything from his actions to his dialogue preset for him, Sylus wants nothing more than to be free and to meet the person plaguing his dreams. With the use of his hacking prowess, he’s able to escape the game.

He wakes to ocean waves crashing against the shoreline and seabirds cawing in the distance. He sits up in the surf, blinking the bleariness from his eyes. A figure rushes towards him, blurry at first, silhouetted by the sun.

“Are you alright?” the figure asks, kneeling at his side. It’s them—it’s you. The person he’d dreamt of for what felt like ages, quietly calling out to him from the furthest regions of his mind, even when he wasn’t in control.

You’re more beautiful than his dreams could conjure, voice gentle, hand cautious on his shoulders.

He takes you in, still in awe. Surveys his surroundings, noting that he’s washed up on a beautiful island with modest infrastructure and palm trees bordering the horizon. He’s clearly not in Kansas anymore.

As you help him sit up, his mind races with questions. Where is he? How did he get here? Why is he here? But more importantly, he wants to know who you are and what significance you play in his life, haunting his dreams like a pretty specter.

Before he can get a word out, more figures approach from behind you. And Sylus thinks he might’ve had a rough ride traveling from the LADS universe to whatever timeline he currently inhabits. Because why in the hell do all the figures behind you look like anthropomorphic animals?

[obeythebutler]

For the fluff prompt, may I please have Lucifer and "making funny faces behind the computer while the other one is in a boring Zoom meeting" with Mc being the other one???

It starts small.

The most insignificant of details that the eye won't catch at first glance, but the brain notices something is amiss.

For starters, the pair of spectacles Lucifer always dons is sitting on his desk. You swear he was wearing them just a moment before—your eyebrows furrow—but then you divert your attention back to the screen. The demon continues with his paperwork.

End semester projects require regular progress checks. Your group members are done informing the professor of their progress, now it is your turn to speak up.

"We are done with our research," You say, involuntarily straightening your posture. "We have encountered several problems while trying to know more about the economic practices of the Devildom in the year 1121. Astarion and I have gathered what we could find and compiled it in the document attached in our recent email to you."

"And what is to be done next?" The demon asks.

Magoth speaks up, and you take the moment to grab the bottle of water next to you. You open the cap and take a sip, eyes darting behind the screen.

"We have already verified it from—"

You choke on the liquid in your throat.

Several voices of concern chime in through your speakers as you hack and cough. Hurriedly wiping your mouth, you splutter and blurt out words of assurance. The talking resumes, and your brain can't believe what it saw.

Lucifer, pouting as he stares into his phone, the device outstretched in his left hand. Puckered lips and and all.

"Don't." You mouth the words at the demon, who smirks and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

"This project will be submitted by the end of next month," You pipe in, voice confident of your group's ability to meet deadlines. "There's a survey also planned for extra credit, and Astarion has already formulated the questions."

"Very good! Ah, that reminds me, I've made a new email id—please mail me your survey results on..............."

You make the mistake of glancing at Lucifer.

You have to resist the urge to smile after.

He's winking at you now, comically so, and the demon looks ridiculous.

You mute your mic, and let yourself giggle. "Lucifer," You whine, "I'm in a meeting!"

"Can't I have a little fun now and then?" He says, picking up his pen again. "Besides, you should be focused on the meeting, and not on external variables."

You glare at the demon.

"MC?" Magoth chimes. "Are you trying to say something? Your mic's on mute."

You force yourself to make a polite smile. "Everything's alright! Just a little disturbance. Please, carry on."

You lean back on your chair. The sound of pen scribbling on paper makes for a suitable background noise, and you finally focus on the meeting being held.

You assume the demon has finally calmed down on his rare antics.

Progress is made, conclusions revised, and the meeting is wrapped up in the next twenty minutes.

You close your laptop after, and nearly jump in your seat.

Because there is Lucifer, eyebrows furrowed and a hand grabbing his chin. Lower lip being bitten by his teeth.

This time, you let yourself laugh freely.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen? 

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave. 

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching. 

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless. 

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out. 

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood. 

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats. 

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was. 

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened. 

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently. 

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!” 

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears. 

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked. 

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side. 

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean. 

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean. 

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice. 

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves. 

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair. 

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that. 

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked. 

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled. 

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________