#i made this like a year ago but i just found it again in my camera roll. little did i know how all consuming the pirate show would be

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 1

pt. 2, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words:

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: for clarification, reader is 20 years old while sevika is her canon age in this (38-40)

you can check out the fic playlist here.

sevika wasn’t the buddy-buddy type when it came to her neighbors.

as someone who mostly kept to herself, she preferred to be left to her own devices, granted she wasn’t necessarily unapproachable. if you’d knock on her door to borrow some tools, she’d likely lend you hers. have some problems with your plumbing? on a good day, she’d offer to fix it herself.

she’d even attend the annual neighborhood barbecue sometimes, but she wasn’t the type to knock on doors and welcome the new people who had just moved in with freshly baked cookies. that’s something she left vander to do.

so when the vacant house adjacent to hers finally got some new occupants after the previous tenant moved out 3 months ago (a friendly old woman named babette who she would never admit to missing, she and her homemade lasagna she’d offer sevika for dinner) she didn’t think much of it.

but she was curious, so she peeked through her blinds to get a good look at the new tenants, trying to assess what she had to deal with.

when she looked, she was simply greeted by a man who looked to be in his 50s hauling out boxes - slouched posture, flannel button-up, and leather boots. he had the tiredness in his eyes that indicated he was just an everyday samaritan. she was happy about that because she liked her peace.

but before she was about to close her blinds again, a new figure caught her eye. this one younger, miles younger, who sported beaten up doc martens, ripped black shorts that ridden up too high around the rear area that sevika was quick to avert her gaze when she stared too long, and a loose fitted top that was sliced around one shoulder, leaving it exposed.

with painted black nails and eyelids adorned with dark eye shadow, sevika watched as you got out of the front seat of the moving truck and inspected the house in front of you with an intense gaze. before a small smirk made its way to your face, the kind she knew only meant trouble.

“looks great, dad!”

sevika couldn’t believe this.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

it’s not that sevika wasn’t fond of people younger than her.

she was just too old to handle any of their shit. not that being forty-one was geriatric by any means, but she liked her peace, and she couldn’t necessarily have that if she had someone twice younger than her living just down the block. the possibility of house parties being thrown already sending shivers down her spine.

she already had vander’s daughters out of her hair, and even then she heard from him they’re coming back home for their semester break this week so that’s another problem to deal with. you couldn’t be too far from their age range either, probably closer to vander’s eldest, violet. which relieved her in a way.

she hasn’t even spoken to you yet but she dreads the day she’ll ever need to. but it seems as though your father heard her prayers because it didn’t take long after the moving truck drove off when a sudden knock came from her front door, making her raise her eyebrow.

she opened it and just her luck she was greeted by your father, a soft smile on his face as he gave her a gentle wave “hi there, me and my daughter just moved in and I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

sevika gave him a curt nod “I noticed. welcome to the neighborhood.”

again, she wasn’t the type to knock on people’s doors and give them a formal introduction to the whole damn block. the only way she ever got to know people was when word got around about her being the town’s mechanic. she was mostly acquainted with the fathers and uncles, meanwhile the women her age she preferred to sleep with. occasional flings here and there, nothing serious.

the only people she’d consider her friends were vander and silco, and perhaps some of her co-workers back at the mechanic’s shop but they lived elsewhere.

it was hard for her to truly get along with someone, albeit she isn’t opposed to making friends, it’s just something that takes time. she’s a tough cookie.

your father, on the other hand, seemed civil enough. sevika didn’t even notice the container he carried with him until he lifted it “well, my daughter baked some brownies and I thought maybe I’d give you some. wouldn’t hurt to befriend a few folks on the first day, and well, you do live next door.”

she eyed the container while she debated whether to return the gesture or not, and as she thought long and hard about it, she didn’t want to appear like an asshole.

“care for a cup of coffee, then?”

and that’s how she found herself sitting across from your father at her kitchen table, with him sipping his coffee while she chugged her third can of beer of the day.

despite herself, your father was pretty pleasant. thirty minutes of mundane chatting and she’s already gotten to know quite a bit about him - widowed and left to take care of his only daughter, your mother dying while you were only eleven years old. breast cancer. she offered a bit of sympathy which he appreciated.

“never got remarried?” she couldn’t help but ask.

your father laughed softly, shaking his head “no, can’t. when she died a part of me died with her, and I don’t think anybody can truly fill that void. plus I don’t think my daughter would be on board. not that she wouldn’t let me, she never cared but I know she still thinks about her mom a lot.”

sevika let out a hum “I get it. my mom died when I was young too. it never got easier.”

“it doesn’t.” he replied “she’s twenty now. a sophomore in college but sometimes I do feel like she’s clinging onto that part of herself when her mom was still alive. she became a bit rebellious after that. threw herself to drinking at sixteen, I tried to stop her which worked when she finally became eighteen, but her habits still kick in.”

sevika would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for the old man. she didn’t have any kids and quite frankly, has no intention of having any in the near future, but she can only imagine how difficult it’d be to see your child spiral like that and have it be out of your control.

“she’s doing a lot better now?” she asked.

your father nodded, although it seemed a bit uncertain “I think so. she’s on her mid-semester break and will be back by the end of the month.”

sevika sighed internally at that, at least she won’t have to worry about you potentially becoming a problem for too long.

her and your dad conversed a bit more after that - about how he decided to move here because he a got new job in town, and how your college was located two hours away, making him think that your visits would be limited given how you don’t like traveling for long hours (again, another win for her) he also asked her about her prosthetic arm ‘bad car crash. got stuck and had to get it amputated’ she explained and he gave a sympathetic look in return.

soon, she led him up to her front door. it was nearing the evening anyway, but she surprisingly appreciated the company.

“sorry if I took up much of your time, sevika.” your father apologized and she smiled. a genuine one.

“it’s no bother. if you ever need help don’t be afraid to ask.” sevika said and she meant it.

your father offered a grateful nod, walking down her driveway and next door to his house. when sevika looked, there you were waiting for him.

you decided to change into something more comfortable since you arrived. a tight-fitted black tank top with thin straps and grey cotton shorts that exposed your legs to the cold air. you didn’t seem to be wearing a bra either and given the weather, she could notice your nipples poking through the fabric even from where she stood.

sevika shook her head. goddammit . she just made friends with your old man and here she was ogling at his daughter. she wasn’t even supposed to like you.

as your father walked up to your front door he sent her one last wave goodbye, which made you finally look at her.

for that brief moment, your eyes locked. she couldn’t decipher that look on your face when you studied her, arms crossed as you cocked your head to side while your father spoke “she’s our next door neighbor, sweetheart. sevika, meet my daughter!” she only smiled awkwardly while you continued staring at her.

suddenly, that same smirk made its way to your face again, opening your mouth to respond “hi sevika,” you said, your voice sultry and sickeningly sweet. sevika hated that it did something to her.

you didn’t give her time to acknowledge your greeting before you turned on your heel and went back inside, and she didn’t even realize her chest tightened the entire time you two made eye contact until you were finally out of sight, making her breathe normally again.

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Too Late (Azriel x Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2

Azriel and Y/N finally talk, and she realizes that maybe the feelings weren't one sided after all these years. Is it too late?

               You tried to grow used to the life at the house of wind, but you could feel the awkward silence fill up every room you entered. Feyre was friendly, but you could tell she didn’t agree with what you had done. You spent a lot of time with Cassian, who was the only one who would really talk to you, Azriel hadn’t spoken to you since that night.

               “Hey Cas,” You peered up at him, you both stretching on the mats outside. “Could you…” You weren’t sure how to form the question, “Where is it?”

               He froze; his face unreadable. You tried to use your gift, to see what he was feeling, but you couldn’t seem to reach him.  

               “I think it will help me.” You whisper, “I want to help you, I want to be this secret weapon you need me to be but I can’t without any power, you must see that.”

               Cassian nodded, moving one arm across his chest as he stretched. “It’s by the river, I can fly you down there but…I don’t have good memories, I don’t want to stay.”

               You nodded, leaning back on your hands and staring at the bright sky, sun causing you to squint.

               “I’m sorry about Azriel.” Cassian started, and as you went to reply he held his hand up to stop you. “Azriel- I shouldn’t tell you this but I feel like you should know. Azriel went crazy when you died, or didn’t die, or whatever.”

               You held your breath as he spoke, feeling the guilt rise in your chest. “When we found him after the battle, he was covered in blood. I think he had gone through every body in that field looking for you, he was…it was horrible.” Cassian sighed, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them. “He stayed for days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, we had to drug him to get him to leave, and he almost killed us when he woke up.”

               “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I wanted to come back, but…I was useless. I had grown too attached to Azriel- and when…I tried to tell him how I felt and he made it very obvious he did not feel the same way. Then that on top of me losing my powers, I just didn’t see a point.”         

               “What do you mean?” Cassian asked, and you sighed.

               “Before the battle, I tried to tell him that….that I loved him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Before I lost my gift I could feel emotion and I could feel nothing from him, just my own.”

               Cassian nodded slowly, looking around the empty training yard. “I’m sorry about yelling at you, by the way.” You squeezed his hand again and he gave you a sad smile.

               He nodded, “It’s okay.”

               He dropped you off by the river, pointing in the general direction of where your destination was. You walked, admiring the rush of water with the mountains surrounding you. You trecked along the cobblestone until you found a narrow path, following it until you came up to a stone secured into the ground.

               You squatted down, examining it closely, tracing the carved words in the stone.

‘Beloved Y/N

The light in the darkness,

I will carry you with me, always,

My heart will never let you go

Until the stars call me home’

               You gazed at the words, the emotions in your chase rising like a wave, impossible to control. You slowly sat on the ground, your eyes falling to the flowers beside you, placed there only days ago. Your eyes drifted to the view of the city and the river flowing through it, the stones from the bridge reflecting the sunlight in almost a blinding twinkle.

               You couldn’t help the thoughts of what life could have been- if you had told Azriel the truth, if you hadn’t run away, or even if you had died. The version of you that died deserved this headstone, deserved the beautiful words and beautiful flowers, but the person you had become- the one sitting here- didn’t deserve it.

               You sat in silence, the only sounds the occasional pattering of footsteps or the splash of a fish jumping from the water.

               “Every starfall, I only had one wish.” Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, and your head whipped behind you to see him standing, hands in his pockets. He made a motion with his hands, like a falling star. “Every year, I had the same wish. I would stand outside and look up at those stars and just wish so hard.”

               “What would you wish for?” You whispered, and Azriel turned to look at you, his eyes almost gentle.

               “Can I sit?” He asked, and you nodded, scooting over. “How do you like it?”

               He nodded towards the grave, and you gave him a tight smile, looking back over the light gray stone. “Honestly, it’s beautiful and more than I deserve.” You waited a couple seconds, “Az, I’m…I’m  so sorry.”

               “I didn’t understand at first.” Azriel whispered, looking out at the river. “The first thing I felt when I saw you- of course it was relief, but then it was betrayal. I couldn’t believe that you would put me through all of that.”         

               “I- I didn’t really think it would be that hard.” You whispered, pulling your legs up to your chest. “It was war.”              

               “It wasn’t just a war, we weren’t just part of the war.” Azriel turned towards you, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t guarded. “And I was so mad, when I saw you, the anger I felt is like something I have never felt before.”

               “Then once I was finished yelling at you, I came out here.” Azriel sighed, “After sitting here for a couple hours, I thought about blasting this thing to the ground, to be honest. But, I realized, the reason I was so upset when I thought you were gone-“

               Azriel stopped, looking away. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He looked at you, the pain of loss still fresh on his face despite the decades that had passed.

               “The reason…The reason I was so upset was because I was never brave enough to tell you how I felt, hell, I never even got to say goodbye.” Azriel pulled his arm away to run through his hair again, and you moved your hand back to your knee. “I had the perfect opportunity, we were both there, but….I didn’t know if someone like you could ever love someone like me.”

               Your heart froze and possibly skipped a beat as you processed his words, you stared at the river and felt the relief flow through you. “I know it’s been decades, but…I still thought about you every day, I thought the pain of losing you would kill me.”

               “You…loved me?” You whispered, turning to him. His face, for the first time, was free of his grim expression and his eyes shone with vulnerability.

               “I’m not going to make the mistake of not telling you how I feel a second time, Y/N.” Azriel whispered, “I spent 140 Starfalls wishing I could just tell you that.”

               Tears filled your eyes as you stared forward, memories coming back to you in a rush. The way Azriel ran to you in the war, the words on his lips, ‘I love you’. The pain in your chest that never went away, that was him, that was his pain.

               “Azriel-“You choked, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around him. He took a moment to return to hug, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, breathing in deeply.  The pain was finally gone, free from your chest, and you let out a short laugh.

               He pulled back, unsure. “Before the battle started, I wanted to tell you that I loved you, but I wasn’t brave enough.” You cried, laughing at your own stupidity. “I thought you couldn’t feel anything because I couldn’t feel anything from you!”

               “How could you think that?” Azriel grabbed your face in between his hands, the rough skin gently touching your cheeks. “Y/N- you can read emotions; I assumed that you were reading mine and choosing not to reciprocate.”

               You cried harder, pulling him back into a hug. “I thought those were my emotions; I thought my powers were gone when you were nearby. Azriel- I was so in love with you, I am so in love with you.”

               You realized, that every time you felt the overwhelming and all consumer feeling of love for Azriel, it wasn’t just your love for Azriel, but his love in return. All the pain, the constant ache in your chest, that was yours to share over the years as well. Your powers were never gone- they were just so connected to Azriel that it overpowered everything else.

               “You are the light in my darkness.” Azriel whispered, pulling a piece of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “I will carry you with me, always, because my heart will not let you go.” He pulled your hand to his chest, so you could feel the thuds underneath.

               “Until the stars call me home.” You whispered the final line. He leaned in, his mouth brushing yours tenderly. As you felt his lips on yours, his warm breath on your bottom lip, you pressed into him harder, placing your hand on the nape of his neck and trying to pull him closer to you.

               He pressed into you, lifting you easily and placing you on your back in the grass. You gasped, laughing as you looked up at him. A true smile found his face as he stared at you, and he pressed one hand to your cheek. “I am never letting you go again.”

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 21✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Angst, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language

Word Count: 7234

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

That evening, you found yourself standing in front of Dean’s door, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt you wore. The fabric smelled like him, one you’d stolen months ago before anything between you and Dean had even started. Wearing it now felt comforting, almost like carrying a piece of him with you. After weeks of his retreating, today had felt like a breakthrough, even if your lower belly still ached from earlier.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip before finally raising your hand and knocking gently on the door. The knock was so soft it almost wasn’t there, but you knew Dean would hear it. He always seemed attuned to you in a way that felt both comforting and overwhelming.

“Yeah?”, his familiar voice called out, rough and low.

“It’s me”, you said softly, barely audible.

There was a shuffle inside, followed by a pause, and then the door opened. Dean stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his good hand braced on the wood. His green eyes took you in slowly, and you could feel his gaze lingering as he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his expression softened at the sight of you.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice low and warm. “What’s up?”.

You hesitated, words caught in your throat as your eyes darted anywhere but his face. You couldn’t explain why you felt so shy around him sometimes, especially when there were other moments you’d been so bold. But right now, with him towering over your much smaller frame, it was like every ounce of confidence had drained out of you.

He wasn’t even trying, and yet he completely unraveled you. The sight of him standing there in nothing but sweatpants, the outline of his dick visible through the fabric, made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch. His freckled chest was bare, the soft bulge of his muscles hinting at strength tempered by years of living that way he did. And that soft trail of freckles down his abdomen—it was almost unfair how effortlessly commanding he looked. Sometimes you forgot just how much older he was, how his presence could make you feel like you were being stared down by a goddamn storm.

Dean noticed your hesitation, his head tilting slightly as his smirk widened. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, the rasp in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“I, um…”. You trailed off, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. His gaze dropped briefly to where your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, and you caught the faintest flicker of something darker in his expression before he locked eyes with you again.

“Sweetheart”, he murmured, stepping closer until the toes of his bare feet almost touched yours. He loomed over you, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, or do I have to guess?”.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you managed to say, “I… I wanted to know if I could sleep in here tonight”.

Dean’s lips twitched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you fidget under his gaze. You were his girlfriend, after all—asking him if you could sleep in his bed felt almost absurd. But then again, you weren’t like anyone else. You were his way-too-young girlfriend, as he reminded himself constantly, and sometimes that mix of shyness and boldness that you carried was enough to throw him off-kilter.

“You’re asking?”, he said, his tone a mix of teasing and disbelief. His green eyes softened, but the smirk lingered, and he took another small step closer, his broad frame completely dwarfing yours now. “Sweetheart, you don’t need permission to be in here. It’s your bed as much as it is mine”.

You blinked up at him, your cheeks still flushed as you tried to find the words to respond. Dean caught the slight tremble in your bottom lip, the way you couldn’t quite hold his gaze for too long without looking away. His smirk softened into something more tender as he tilted his head slightly.

“What’s got you so damn nervous, huh?”, he asked quietly, his voice dipping lower. “It’s just me”.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh, your fingers still toying with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You’re not exactly ‘just you’ right now”, you mumbled, your words half teasing, half shy.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”.

You hesitated, glancing down at his chest before your eyes darted away again, your blush deepening. “You look like… that”, you muttered, gesturing vaguely toward him.

Dean’s smirk widened at your words, his eyes glinting with that mischievous spark that always seemed to make your stomach flutter. He tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment as you gestured vaguely toward him.

“And after this morning”, you added quickly, your voice dropping to a mumble, “I know what you can do with that”. You waved awkwardly toward his sweatpants, your face turning an even deeper shade of red as the words left your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared down at your bare toes against the cool bunker floor.

Dean chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing up your spine. “That so?”, he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement and something far darker. He took another small step closer, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you. “You’re thinking about that now, huh? That what’s got you all flustered, sweetheart?”.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes. You didn’t even know why everything felt so heated right now, why your cheeks were burning or why you couldn’t seem to calm the racing of your heart. Something about the side of Dean he’d shown you this morning—the side that had been so confident, so commanding, so utterly sure of himself—had your thoughts tangled up in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re the worst”, you muttered, your voice low and laced with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. You tried to step past him toward the bed, eager to escape the weight of his teasing gaze, but Dean had other plans.

Without missing a beat, his long arm extended to the side, his hand catching you gently but firmly at the shoulder. The move was effortless, fluid, and before you could protest, he was pulling you back against him, your smaller frame flush against his broad chest.

The warmth of him was immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon, and your breath hitched as you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. His arm dropped from your shoulder, wrapping around your waist instead, holding you in place as his good hand rested lightly against your hip. The sheer size of him, the way his body seemed to completely envelop yours, made your cheeks flush even more.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the rough rasp sending a shiver through you. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he leaned down slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Not gonna run away from me, are you?”.

Your hands instinctively flew to his arm, gripping it as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “Dean”, you said softly, your tone half a plea, half a warning.

His lips twitched into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “What?”, he asked innocently, though the way his hand tightened on your waist said otherwise. “You seem pretty eager to get away for someone wearing my shirt and thinking about this morning”.

You let out a huff of frustration, though it did little to hide the way your pulse was racing.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he took in your flustered state, clearly reveling in the effect he had on you. Before you could muster another retort, his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent a shiver racing through your body. The roughness of his stubble against your skin only heightened the sensation, and you felt your breath catch as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice shaky, though you weren’t sure if it was meant as a protest or a plea.

His good hand tightened on your hip, his thumb brushing the hem of your shirt as his lips continued their assault on your neck. “You say my name like that”, he murmured against your skin, his voice low and gravelly, “and you really think I’m just gonna let you go?”.

Before you could respond, his hand dropped lower, slipping between your legs with deliberate ease. The heat pooling in your core flared as his fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, the touch light but purposeful. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as his lips lingered there. “Let’s see if you’re as dripping wet as I think you are”.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you in a way that made your knees weaken. His movements were slow, almost teasing, but the heat radiating from his touch left no doubt about his intent. When his fingers slid against your slickness, he let out a low, throaty groan that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Shit”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “I knew it”. His voice was rough, almost strained, as he continued to stroke you with agonizing precision. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Did I do this to you? Huh?”.

You whimpered softly, unable to find the words as his fingers worked you expertly. The intensity of his touch, paired with the way he towered over you, made it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Tell me”, he demanded softly, his tone dark and commanding as his thumb brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. “Tell me who made you like this”.

“You”, you gasped, your grip on his arm tightening as your body arched into his touch. “You, Dean”.

His smirk returned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl”.

"Dean", you begged.

He didn’t need you to explain what you were begging for—he could see it in your flushed cheeks, your trembling hands, the way your body pressed into him as if seeking something only he could give. But he also knew about the ache still lingering in your belly, the soreness from earlier, and that knowledge tempered his hunger with something deeper: care.

Without missing a beat, Dean shifted his grip on your hips and pushed you gently toward the bed. The movement was firm but careful, his touch steady as he guided you backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress. You gasped softly as you fell back onto the bed, your hair spilling across the covers, but he didn’t give you time to think, to hesitate, or to pull away.

Dean followed immediately, his strong frame settling between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs firmly but tenderly. His green eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of desire and determination. “I’ve got you”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

With a deliberate motion, he spread your legs wider, his hands sliding down to hook under your knees and hold you open for him. The sight of you laid out like this, flushed and vulnerable, made his chest tighten with possessive pride. He didn’t bother pulling your panties off; instead, he grabbed the damp fabric and pushed it aside, exposing your glistening center to his hungry gaze.

“Look at you”, Dean muttered, his tone dark with awe as his good hand traced the curve of your inner thigh. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect”.

You squirmed under his gaze, the heat of his words making your cheeks burn as you mumbled, “Dean, please…”.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against your inner thigh as he whispered, “I know, baby. I know what you need”. His thumb pressed lightly against your swollen folds, teasing you with a feather-light touch. “But you’re sore, aren’t you?”.

You nodded shyly, your breath hitching as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle. “Yeah”, you admitted softly.

Dean smirked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Then let me take care of you", he said, his voice rough with promise. “Nice and slow, sweetheart. I’ll make it good. You just lie back and let me handle everything”.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, his smirk softening into something darker, hungrier, as he drew in a deep breath. “Mmmm”, he murmured, the sound low and throaty, almost as if he were savoring the thought.

“Did I ever tell you”, he started, his voice rough and quiet, “how sweet you taste? Huh?”. His green eyes flicked back up to yours, his lips quirking into a smirk that was equal parts playful and sinful. “Always so fucking sweet”. The words were spoken more to himself than to you, as if he was completely lost in the moment, unable to resist you even if he wanted to.

You shivered under his gaze, your body already reacting to the intensity in his voice and the deliberate movements of his hand. “Dean…”, you whispered, your voice a mix of need and anticipation.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart”.

The rough pads of his fingers brushed against you, teasing along your folds with a deliberate slowness that left you trembling. When his thumb pressed against your most sensitive spot, your back arched slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The reaction pulled a low groan from Dean, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your thigh as he murmured, “Let me make you feel good, baby. Just relax”.

Dean’s lips closed around your wet clit with precision, drawing a deep, needy whimper from your throat as your body arched against his mouth. His tongue worked you with slow, deliberate movements, tracing patterns that left your mind spinning. Your wetness was everywhere—messily spread across his lips, his nose, his beard—and Dean loved every second of it.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. His good hand gripped your thigh tightly, keeping you spread and steady for him as he dove in with relentless focus. “So fucking sweet”, he mumbled between movements, his voice muffled but full of raw hunger. “Could taste you all night, sweetheart”.

His nose brushed against your clit as he pressed his tongue deeper, his beard scraping lightly against your inner thighs, adding a delicious friction to the already overwhelming sensations. Every part of him was immersed in you, lost in your taste, your scent, your trembling body beneath him.

Your fingers tangled in his short hair, pulling slightly as your hips bucked instinctively against his mouth. “Dean”, you gasped, your voice high and breathless as pleasure built rapidly in your core. “Dean, I—oh, Fuck”.

He growled low in his throat, the sound primal and possessive as he tightened his grip on you. His lips closed around your clit again, sucking gently before his tongue flicked against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your entire body shudder.

“You’re so damn perfect”, he murmured, his words punctuated by the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you. “This is mine—every inch of you, all mine”.

The claim sent a rush of heat through you, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightened further, threatening to snap under the intensity of his ministrations. Dean wasn’t letting up, wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as the tension in your belly reached its peak, your breath hitching as the edge loomed closer, Dean withdrew suddenly. The loss of his mouth on you was jarring, and a desperate whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body ached, trembling with the need for release, but Dean’s hands remained firm on your thighs, keeping you spread and exposed beneath him.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice shaking with frustration and desire as your hips bucked slightly, searching for the pressure he’d just stolen away. “Why did you—”.

“Shh, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and full of unshakable control. His green eyes burned with heat as he looked up at you, his lips and beard glistening with your wetness. “Not yet”.

You groaned, your head falling back against the mattress as your hands gripped the sheets. “Dean, please—”.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I always get you there so fast”, he said, almost to himself, his tone laced with teasing pride. “But right now? I want to take my time. Wanna watch you fall apart for me, nice and slow”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as his good hand trailed up your thigh, his touch deliberate and maddeningly slow. He leaned down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just above your knee, then another higher up, his stubble scratching deliciously against you.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at him, your cheeks flushed. “You’re killing me”.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he worked his way up your body, his kisses growing wetter, hotter, as he moved closer to where you needed him most. “You’ll survive”, he said, his tone laced with amusement. “But only if you behave”.

You bit your lip, trying to stay still as his lips hovered over your center, the heat of his breath making you shudder. He smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle, before dipping his head again, his tongue teasing along your folds in a slow, languid stroke.

“Good girl”, he murmured against your skin, the words sending a rush of heat through you. “Now, let’s see just how long I can keep you begging for me”.

Dean was relentless, dragging you right to the edge over and over again, only to pull back just as your body began to tremble, desperate for release. His tongue, lips, and fingers moved with maddening precision, each touch calculated to drive you wild. The sheer intensity of it had your entire body taut with tension, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead, your chest rising and falling as you clutched the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white from the force of your grip. Your thighs trembled in his hands, the overstimulation and denial leaving you a wreck. “Dean”, you whimpered, your voice cracking as you looked down at him, your eyes glassy and filled with desperation. “Please, I—I can’t—”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smirk playing on his glistening lips. “You can”, he rasped, his voice deep and full of command. “And you will”. His thumb brushed over your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your hips jerk against his hold. “You’ll come when I say you can”.

A frustrated whine escaped you, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the release he’d been denying you for what felt like an eternity. “Dean”, you pleaded again, tears brimming in your eyes as your chest heaved. “Please, I can’t take anymore”.

He chuckled, the sound dark and full of satisfaction as he kissed the inside of your thigh, the scruff of his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. “Oh, sweetheart”. he murmured, his breath hot against your flesh. “You can take everything I give you. You’re my girl, aren’t you? My good girl”.

You nodded frantically, tears spilling over as your body writhed beneath his unrelenting touch. “Yes”, you choked out. “Yes, Dean, I am”.

“That’s right”, he growled, his voice low and full of authority. His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, circling slowly as his other hand gripped your hip to keep you in place. “And good girls listen, don’t they? So hold on for me, sweetheart. Just a little longer”.

The sheer command in his voice sent another wave of heat through you, and despite the overwhelming need coursing through your body, you nodded, your lips trembling. “Okay”, you whispered, barely able to form the word as he pushed you to the edge once more, your entire body quivering with the effort to hold back.

Eventually, you lay completely spent in his arms, your body still trembling from the intensity of everything Dean had put you through. Your chest rose and fell against his, your heart still drumming wildly in your ears as you struggled to catch your breath. The air in the room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and satisfaction clinging to your skin as you melted against him.

Dean held you close, his good hand tracing soft, absentminded circles on your back, his touch a stark contrast to the way he had dominated you moments ago. The shift in him was always so seamless—the way he could be so commanding, so ruthless in his control, and then turn around and hold you like this, like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Your lips parted slightly as you finally found your voice, though it was hoarse and barely above a whisper. “What was this called again?”, you asked breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him.

Dean smirked, his fingers still ghosting over your bare skin as he let out a soft chuckle. “You mean what I just did to you?”, he teased, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You swallowed, your face heating as you tried to form words. “Yeah. The whole… not letting me…”. You trailed off, your cheeks burning, but Dean understood exactly what you meant.

“Edging”, he murmured, his smirk widening as he pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead. “It’s called edging, sweetheart”.

You let out a small, exhausted sigh, your fingers weakly gripping at his chest. “You’re evil”, you muttered, nuzzling into him as if trying to hide your face.

Dean chuckled again, the sound deep and rich as his arms tightened around you. “Evil?”, he repeated, mock-offended. “I just gave you more orgasms than you can probably count, and you’re callin’ me evil?”.

You huffed, still too drained to argue, and instead closed your eyes, letting his warmth consume you. “Maybe just a little”, you mumbled sleepily.

Dean grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before resting his chin atop your head. “Get some sleep, baby”, he whispered against your hair. “You’re gonna need it”.

You chuckled breathlessly against Dean’s chest, your body still buzzing, your mind too wired to even think about resting. “I don’t think I can sleep”, you admitted, your voice a soft murmur against his skin.

Dean hummed low in his throat, his fingers still tracing slow, lazy circles on your back. “That so?”, he mused, his voice deep and gravelly, still tinged with satisfaction. “Guess I might’ve overdone it, huh?”.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe just a little”, you teased, though the exhaustion in your limbs betrayed you.

Dean smirked, his good hand moving up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Well, sweetheart”, he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “I could always tire you out some more”.

Your breath caught slightly, your already spent body twitching at the implication in his tone. “Dean”, you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the warmth pooling in your belly made it clear that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Relax, baby”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Not gonna push you”. His fingers kept their soothing motions on your back, grounding you, easing you back into the quiet calm of the room.

You exhaled, nuzzling against him, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth and security of his embrace. “I just feel… too wired”, you admitted. “Like my body’s still trying to catch up with my brain”.

Dean sighed softly, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Alright”, he murmured, “how about this—I’ll hold you, and you just close those pretty eyes. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, sweetheart”.

You blinked up at him, something warm and soft settling in your chest. His words weren’t just reassuring—they were a promise. A reminder that despite everything, despite how rough and intense he could be, he would always take care of you.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded, whispering, “Okay”.

Dean pulled you closer, tucking you against him as his lips pressed against your hair. “That’s my girl”, he murmured.

And with his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you, the tension in your body finally began to ease. Sleep didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

The next morning, you stirred awake to the soft rustling of fabric and the faint clink of a belt buckle being fastened. Your body was still heavy with sleep, your muscles sore but content from the night before. Blinking against the dim light filtering into the room, you turned your head toward Dean.

He stood near the bed, shirtless, his back to you as he fastened his belt, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement. His duffel bag sat at the foot of the bed, packed and ready to go. It took a second for your foggy brain to piece it together, but when it did, your stomach dropped.

He was going on a hunt.

And he hadn’t told you.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand, where his phone lay face-up, the screen illuminated with the time—too early for him to be up unless something was going on. Swallowing thickly, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your voice still thick with sleep. “Dean?”.

He froze for a fraction of a second before sighing softly and turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was undeniable. “Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice gruff, like he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

Your gaze darted to his bag, then back to him. “Where are you going?”. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear him say it.

Dean hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “Got a job”, he finally admitted, not meeting your eyes. “Nothing big, just a quick run”.

Your stomach twisted. He was lying.

You pushed yourself more upright, wincing slightly at the dull ache in your belly from the night before, but you ignored it. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me?”, you asked, your voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable.

Dean sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sat on the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. His fingers laced together, his knuckles slightly white from how tightly he held them. “I wasn’t”, he admitted, his voice low. “Didn’t wanna wake you“.

“You didn’t want me to join, huh?”, you whispered absentmindedly, more to yourself than to him, but Dean heard it. The weight of your voice, the unspoken truth behind it, hung between you both. It was obvious. After the last hunt, where he had nearly gotten himself killed saving your ass, he didn’t want to take the chance again. Not with you. Not so soon.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly at your words, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he was bracing himself for an argument he didn’t want to have. His arm was still wrapped in the plaster, still cradled protectively against his side, a stark reminder that he wasn’t fully healed.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he ran his good hand over his face. “It’s not about that”, he said, but the lie was flimsy at best.

You narrowed your eyes, your chest tightening as frustration built inside you. “Then what is it about, Dean?”. You shifted fully, ignoring the sting in your belly as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets pooling around your thighs. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying to protect me from something I don’t need protecting from”.

His head snapped up at that, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath hitch. “You don’t need protecting?”, he repeated, his voice low, edged with something dangerous. “Sweetheart, last time you almost died”.

“Last time, you almost died”, you shot back, your tone unwavering.

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee. “Exactly”, he muttered. “And that’s not happening again”.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between you. Dean’s words echoed in your head, cutting through your frustration and hitting something deeper—something raw. You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of the sheets beneath you as guilt coiled tight in your chest.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, the words barely audible, but Dean caught them. His head snapped up, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he studied you.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “What the hell are you sorry for?”. His voice was gruff, laced with something rougher than anger—something closer to disbelief.

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Because”, you exhaled, “this is my fault, isn’t it?”. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and the vulnerability there must have hit him hard, because his whole body stiffened. “You never wanted to take me on that hunt. You warned me, told me I wasn’t ready, but I insisted. And then you—”. Your breath hitched, and you forced yourself to say it. “You got hurt. Badly”.

Dean’s jaw ticked, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, his good hand flexing into a fist against his thigh. His expression was tight, unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into a firm line.

“That what you think?”, he muttered finally, his voice dangerously low.

You bit your lip, unsure how to answer. Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Sweetheart, let me make one thing crystal fucking clear”, he said, his tone slow and deliberate. “You didn’t make me do a damn thing”.

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done.

“I make my own choices”, he continued, his voice rough, edged with something almost self-destructive. “I went on that hunt because I chose to. I threw myself in front of you because I chose to. You think I wouldn’t do that a thousand times over?”. His green eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to you if I could stop it?”.

Your throat tightened. “But you got hurt”.

Dean let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s what happens in this life, sweetheart. We get hurt. We bleed. We damn well almost die more times than we can count”. He inhaled sharply, his jaw working as he rubbed his good hand over his face. “I don’t blame you for that, so don’t you dare start blaming yourself”.

The guilt was still there, pressing against your ribs like a weight you couldn’t shake. But Dean’s words—his unfiltered, raw honesty—chipped away at it, just a little.

You shook your head. “I just—I don’t want to be the reason you end up—”. Your voice wavered, and you couldn’t finish.

Dean’s expression softened then, just slightly, and he leaned closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “The only thing that’ll kill me is this goddamn job”, he murmured, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Not you. Never you”.

Dean let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing absently over your chin as he stared at you. His touch was warm, steady, grounding—but it didn’t change the truth of what he was doing. His bag was packed. His belt was fastened. And he was about to leave. Without you.

You leaned into his palm, savoring the warmth, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you asked, “Then why are you leaving me behind?”.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, like he was trying to keep his own emotions in check, before letting his hand drop from your face. He sighed, rubbing his good hand over his jaw as if the weight of his own decisions was starting to crush him. When he finally looked at you again, his expression was unreadable—but his eyes, those damn green eyes, were filled with something raw.

“Because I have to”, he said quietly, and the way his voice cracked slightly at the end made your stomach twist. “Because if something happened to you out there, I—”. He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he clenched his jaw. His hands flexed at his sides, tension rolling off him in waves.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, blinking up at him. “So you just get to decide that?”, you asked, your voice trembling, but there was an edge to it now. “You get to choose when I’m involved, when I get to be part of this life? Part of your life?”.

Dean’s expression darkened, his jaw ticking as he stared at you. “It’s not a choice, sweetheart”, he said, his voice tight. “It’s keeping you safe”.

“But what if I don’t want to be safe?”, you shot back, standing up fully now despite the dull ache in your stomach. “What if I want to be with you, no matter what?”. Your voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion clawing its way up your throat. “You said it yourself, Dean—this job, it gets people hurt. It gets people killed. So what, I just sit here in the bunker and wait for you to come back? Wait for Sam to come back? Wonder if this is the time you don’t?”.

Dean’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his breathing uneven. He took a step back, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You don’t get it”, he muttered.

“Then make me get it”, you demanded, taking a step closer.

Dean let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You think you want this”, he said, his voice rough, almost bitter. “You think you can handle it. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love bleed out in front of you, knowing you can’t stop it. Knowing it’s your fault”. His voice wavered at the end, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve lost too many people, sweetheart. I can’t lose you too”.

Your breath hitched. The rawness in his voice, the way his body seemed coiled like a spring, like he was barely holding himself together—it was enough to shatter your anger in an instant. But it didn’t change the fact that he was still leaving.

You reached for his hand instinctively, lacing your fingers through his, gripping tight. “Dean”, you whispered, “I know this isn’t easy. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you—”.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment before he pulled away. Pulled away.

“I have to go”, he said softly, and the finality in his voice broke something inside you.

Dean had barely made it to the garage, his bag slung over his good shoulder, Sam already leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, waiting. He gave Dean a look—one that was equal parts You okay? and You sure about this? but Dean just sighed, shaking his head, already mentally pushing past whatever guilt was gnawing at him.

Then, before he could reach for the car door, he felt a sharp tug on his wrist.

Dean turned, startled by the sheer force of it, only to find you standing there, breathless, frustrated, and looking impossibly small in nothing but one of his shirts. The sight of you in it—bare legs, messy hair, eyes still heavy with sleep but blazing with determination—knocked the air out of his lungs. His heart clenched at how goddamn cute you looked, but the look on your face told him this wasn’t about that.

“At least give me a proper goodbye”, you grumbled, your fingers still curled tightly around his wrist.

Dean blinked down at you, stunned by your sudden presence, your sheer stubbornness. Sam, wisely, looked away, running a hand over his face like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sweetheart, you really came out here in just my shirt to pick a fight with me?”. His voice was low, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

Your brows furrowed, and you huffed, standing your ground despite the way he towered over you. “I’m not picking a fight”, you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “But I want the girlfriend treatment”.

Dean blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your response. A slow smirk spread across his face as he tilted his head, eyeing you with something that was half amusement, half god, you’re cute as shit. He took a step closer, his good hand twitching at his side like he was resisting the urge to just grab you and hold you close.

Sam, who had been attempting to stay out of this, groaned from the passenger seat. “Oh my god”, he muttered under his breath. “Just kiss her, Dean, so we can go”.

Dean ignored him, his green eyes locked onto yours as he reached out, his fingers grazing your chin before gently pinching your cheek. “Damn, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice full of affection. “You’re cute when you’re all demanding”.

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you swatted at his hand. “Dean”, you grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

His smirk softened into something more genuine, more him. “Alright, alright”, he said, lifting both hands in surrender before stepping even closer, his body warm and familiar as it loomed over yours. “You want the girlfriend treatment, huh?”.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression serious, but your heart was already racing at the way his eyes darkened just slightly, the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the damn world.

Dean let out a small chuckle before finally giving you what you wanted—what you needed. His hand cupped the side of your face, rough and warm, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a quick see you later kind of kiss. No, this was slow, lingering, meant to make up for the fact that he was leaving you behind. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his lips moved against yours with the kind of care that made your knees weak.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Better?”.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Better”, you admitted, even though you still hated watching him walk away.

“But don’t think we’re done talking about the hunting thing”, you mumbed and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“I know we’re not done”, he murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “You don’t let anything go that easy”.

You pulled back just enough to give him a pointed look, your arms still wrapped around yourself. “That’s because you’re being ridiculous”, you huffed. “I’ve trained for this, Dean. You and Sam both made sure of it. But now—”. You swallowed, trying to steady the tightness creeping into your chest. “Now that we’re… this, it’s like you’re putting me back on the sidelines”.

Dean sighed again, this time heavier, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “It’s not about that, sweetheart”.

You knew Dean—knew that once his mind was set, there was little you could do to change it in the moment. And as much as you wanted to fight him on this right now, you also knew that if he was up this early, if his bag was already packed, he had to go.

“We’ll talk when you’re home”, you whispered, finally relenting. You lifted yourself on your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean didn’t move at first, but then his good hand came up, curling around your waist, holding you there for just a second longer than necessary.

When you finally pulled away, you gave him a pointed look, your finger poking at the bare skin of his chest. “And that’s how you say goodbye”, you grumbled, your tone carrying just enough annoyance to mask the ache settling deep in your stomach.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle, his hand covering yours, pressing it against his chest like he wanted to keep you there. “Yes, ma’am”, he murmured, smirking, but there was something softer in his gaze now.

“I’ll be back before you know it”, he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You crossed your arms, watching as he grabbed his bag and moved toward the Impala. “You better”, you muttered under your breath, but he heard it.

Dean turned back one last time, flashing you a wink before slipping into the driver’s seat. Sam gave you a small nod before following him in, and just like that, they were gone.

And you stood there, arms still wrapped around yourself, already counting down the hours until he came home.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

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[revscarecrow]

Sonic the hedgehog and Ozzy Osbourne

in a spy thriller at an Arbys Parking lot

Chapter 1:

2 am arby's parking lot sonic is there. Sonic puts out his cigarette. "YEAH this is the place. Way past cool..." he said mornfully. Arby's was a place of villainy and not a place of fast or cool or honor( iwent there once and the food made me sick :( ). "All i have to do is steal the secret sauce so I can have the best chilli dog ever. Yeah cool."

Chapter 2:

"SONIC!" said sonics wrist watch that was alos a communicator. "You gotta mublerl that ria now." Ozzy ozborne said knowingly. "You're right> Cooll Chilli dog." Said songic who im realizing i know very little about. "Just fuckin madflp Theat...." Ozzy continued. "I don't know how that will help but if you say so." unfapply sonic spoke removing his shoes. Sonic then did a big snip dash to the roof. Once on the roof he said "Ok Ozzy tghe eagle has landed." "Great tghuis is god" preached ozzy appripoe of nothing. Sonic alwasys listened to ozzy first as a musician and then as a mentor. Ozzy was alwasyt a secret spy master as we all know. IT was with this power he helped sonic to hone his craft like batman did for batman in batman beyond.

chapter 3:

"Fuckin go wheres my fuckin cat SHARON" annoucned Ozzy giving the code words Sonic needdd to open the air vent. The vent was cold on his bare sniky feeet. "YEAH COOL!" shouted sonic not remembering that hwee was sneaking at that moment. "SHUT THFIUICK UP" Ozzy mumbled to heimself. Sonic lambasted himself for his stipid mistake. One would think that after years training to becoime the worlds best tai kawndow instructpor in the moutnains of nepal he would have rememebred his masters sage advice. "yeah cool." sonic then affirmed this time more quietly and to himself. because hw was alone. in the vent. After some time in the vent sonic got to the end which had ben losedn by an inside palnt at the arbies (the reseraunt not the person). "Simfgja The vod alredy sonic" mumbled ozzy again. Thistime more aggressibvely.

Sonic quietly slipped out of the vent like a poop from a butt. Sonic was sad that he was upsetting his master and aimed to do better that he had been before which was just a few momembts ago. I found it sonic said to himself and ozzy because ozzy could here him. "Ozzy senpai I found my way into the kitchen now what" uttered sonic under hsi breth to ozzzy and himself. The klitchne was clean aside from everwhere it wasnt. The walss were thick with greease and dirt. Sonic regretting taking his shoes off "ay caromba" sojci said flexing his spanish for his masters approval. "Ну, эээ... Укусил я себя за ногу однажды, знаешь. Было такое. Не просто так, была цель. Но тебе этого не понять." ozzy said felxing his russian. Sonic was asshamed and doidnt know wha t ozzy was saying. Normally he understood his masters words but he did not know russian and therefore had no idea what Ozzy was saying. Ozzy spent some tiem in russia as a spy duirng the cold war and hsi rusain was very good. Sonic trusted that the words were worsd of incurangement.

Chapter 7:

(AN: let me know if you like this by givi ng me a kudo. THAX!)

Sonic stepped through the greese and the grime as he made his way to the refrigerator. "chilli Dogs?" sonic alledged outloud hopoing that his dreams wou.l,d come true. As sonic reached for the door of the refrigerator to get the secret sauce he heard a voice from behind him. "I knew you would be here sooner or later..." it was the voice of sonics main rival sponge bod square pants. "FUCKOING LOK OAT" Ozzy shpouted into the communacator giving sonic just enough time to doge out of the way fo the ninja shirikan. Spining in place sonic saw that he was surrouned by dozens of sponge bob coppies. "HEH THIS JJSUT GOT INTRENTSINTG" sonic said taking the ninja star out of the refrigerator and throwing it at a bob. The sponge bpob that was there turned into a tree log (AN:think about the onces in nartuo if you arent aawre of naruto GTFO). Sonic went to move real fast but coundt. "ERG THIS GREENZE Its making me slog" sonic opined. Sponge bob then began to speak all of them all at once in unison it was horrible and creepy "Did you think this was going to be easy" they uttered left eyes glowing red "who do you think was their inside man?" Sonic was shocked and amazed and confused how couild thois be. How could he have been betrayed and haow did sponge know? "I bet you are wondering how yuou got betrayed" the bobs disclosed "The truth is that we have already done this before but the last time. I was with you as yor lover. By opening that fringe i was able to get the power of the 8 seecret sauces and control time itself. But for this battle I wont need that." the bobs gabbed. "THATS NOT COOL." Sonic responded. "Keepm hkim busyz" ozzy then mumbled excitedly "im gona haxxor the main frame."

chapter 8: the show down

The arbys began to shake as the power levels of both bob and sonic rose to 1000000 or maybe more. " Ill get you for this sponge" sonic said before rushing him slowly because he cou.l,dnt run because of the greese in the room that was shaking because their power levels kept rising. "You dont knwo the pwower that I have trained in the million of years of pracice ive had for this very moment" spongebong verbalized. "what happened to ypou hwo were we lovers what do you mean psonge bob." sonic then said with a smirk "Back in my timeline we were lovers as i said HERK..." and then sponge bobs died liek airth from Final fantasy cause thats what happened it was like the bit where sphoeroth stabbed herr in the back but insted its sponge bob and he died and bled out. Sponge bobm thin said the words that would haunt sonic froevefr " I still loved you" and in that moment sonic knew that he loved bob. Despite everythign he loved that bob. Hodling the corpse of his new now dead lover sonic screm "Bummer" And now he had to avienge his dead lvoer. whowas bob and hsi lover. He then looked up the blaed of thatkatana to the eyes of his most hated enemy yet.

AN: Been busy with school and i got grounded the other day so I couldt work on this but I will as soon as I can my mom is such a bitch for grounding me I just wanted to learn how to throw knives and now Im in trouble. I wish sonic was real and ozzy was real and sponge bob was my boyfriend. and rel. Will get back to writing soon. xoxoxoxoxoxoo

[bellysoupset]

The Superbowl - II

Considering it was 20ºF outside and the wind was howling, now that they had put the halftime show on mute, the living room was feeling quite stuffy.

Vince was so warm, he felt like he couldn't breathe and he stripped his sweater, so he was just in his undershirt, balling it up in his fist and looking around the room in astonishment.

Leo was still sitting down, seeming frozen in place and Wendy had gotten up and was by the staircase which Lucas had just ran up, following Bell.

"Vince?" Jonah's voice was uncharacteristically soft and his unexpected touch caused Vince to jerk. He searched Jon's face — had he known? Was he furious? — but found only commiserating confusion and compassion, which made Vin feel all the more suffocated.

Never in all the six years he had known Bell he had made her cry and it was killing him. Never, in all seven years he knew Lucas, had his best friend kept something from him, let alone something of this magnitude.

He felt nauseous. Vince gulped down, wiping the sweat suddenly dotting his face, clammy hands on his jeans, "she said- She said three weeks, right?" he asked, for lack of a more coherent thought. Jonah nodded and Leo let out a groan in affirmation.

"I'm going to go talk with them," Vince decided, turning around, and Wendy shook her head.

"I'll do it..." She hugged herself, eyes downcast and avoiding all of them, "I knew already, I think- I think Luke will be less pissed if it's just me."

The sheer betrayal of it all still stung like an open wound. Three fucking weeks and Wendy had been with him, apparently, on the exact day it had happened and yet-

"We should go," Vince said, strongly, gridding his teeth and Wendy nodded, still looking like she wished the ground would swallow her up as she turned around and bolted up the stairs.

"Vince," Jonah's voice now wasn't as soft or compassionate, his general attitude returning, "it's not her fault."

Vince opened his mouth to retort, annoyance and guilt clouding his judgment, but Leo interrupted them both letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing his face as if he could physically disperse his thoughts, "about four months ago, when we went to get my new car-" the blonde looked pointedly at Jon, who nodded to show he remembered, "Bell got carsick, remember?"

"Uh... Sure, I remember that," Jonah turned to look at his boyfriend and Vince paced the room, fingers curling on the roots of his hair and tugging. He wanted to go upstairs, but the glare Lucas had sent him had been clear.

"Afterwards, on the drive back, I asked how she was and she kinda hinted she thought it was morning sickness, not- Not carsickness," Leo's voice got all squeezy and weird and he cleared his throat, swallowing against the knot in his throat, "and she seemed so happy... But she said she hadn't done a test yet and when Luke never said anything and neither did she, I just assumed it had been a negative..."

"Bell said three weeks," Jonah reminded him, while Vince was too busy spiraling over all that had somehow passed him by. Just how long had him and Luke been drifting apart, if he hadn't ever been told about this either?

His stomach churned, uneasily, and Vince gulped down, watching as Jonah sat back down next to Leo and the blonde promptly collapsed against him, burying his face against Jon's neck.

Jonah's face was a grey tone and he looked sick too, which Vince sympathized with. He wasn't feeling well at all.

"I told them we're leaving," Wendy's voice came from behind him. She was standing on the last step of the staircase, coat already on, arms crossed defensively at her chest, "let's go?"

Vince nodded, putting his sweater back on and looking around the room one last time, "if- If Luke comes back down, can one of you just tell him I wanna talk? Please?" He requested, once again inching closer to the staircase, considering if he should all but disregard Lucas' fury and just barge upstairs anyway... But he had been the one to say that awful comment, he had made Bella cry, he couldn't just bulldoze there over his own feelings.

"I'll tell him," Leo promised, the took a deep breath and said in a firm voice, "but you should go."

It wasn't anything Vin didn't know, but still his eyes prickled and he had to look away, shame washing over him.

"Yeah... I'm sorry," Vince repeated, uselessly, and Wendy shoved his back gently, pushing him towards the door.

Outside, the wind nearly knocked them out immediately, so they jogged to the car. Not looking at each other until the doors were slammed closed and the heater turned back on.

Vince stared at his lap, stomach burning and head swimming. Next to him, from the corner of his eye, he could see Wen opening and closing her mouth twice, as if she wanted to say something, but instead she put her seatbelt on and drove off the Atwood's property.

"I couldn't tell you," Wendy said, five minutes later, as the tension in the car grew so heavy it was suffocating, "I know you're pissed, Vin, but I couldn't-"

"Did Bella tell you?" Vince interrupted her. His stomach was burning and his voice was deep and raspy from the stomach acid licking at his throat. He tried to clear it, only for the weird taste in his mouth to grow nastier, "how did you know?"

Wendy shook her head, quickly looking away from the road, then back at him, "No! No, she didn't, I-"

"Luke?" He felt positively nauseous now, not just nerves. Vince squirmed on his seat, wishing he could just roll down the window, but it was snowing out.

"NO!" Wendy repeated, sharply, "I was on shift when they came to the hospital. It was really early, like six or seven AM, and- And I ran straight into Luke and they had just taken Bell away for exams, so he was distraught- I wanted to tell you, Vin, I swear, but it was not my secret, not my place at all... I don't think they wanted anyone to know, not even me-"

Typically, Vince would write that off as Bell. She hated any sort of medical attention or victimization, it made sense... And yet there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that Luke hadn't said a thing either.

His stomach churned, letting out an angry whine, and Vince leaned forward, wiping his sweaty hands off once more. He breathed out slowly through his mouth, while his belly grumbled and struggled to digest the dip, making him feel overly stuffed, despite the fact he was far from it.

"Vin?" Wendy's voice was weak, half worried, half hurt, "Vince?"

He opened the glovebox in search of a bag, but found none. His stomach rolled once more and this time a little burp came up, which he muffled against his fist, looking at the backseat. Wendy always had shopping bags there...

"You cannot be angry at me," Wendy decided, voice much firmer now, "I wasn't told anything, I found out by sheer luck, and it was a private matter and I'm a doctor. It would be beyond unethical for me to run around and tell you-"

"I don't give a crap, Wendy!" Vince exclaimed, before he could think it through. He was burning up and he tugged at the neckline of his sweater once more, muffling another, much deeper, belch against his hand, "I don't care if it'd be unethical, I don't care if they didn't tell you-" he gulped down the sticky saliva in his mouth, giving up the search for a bag.

"I'm not going to apologize," Wendy leveled him with a glare, then wrinkled her nose, "you're green."

Vince scoffed, squeezing his eyes shut as a cramp gnawed at his stomach, the car came to a slow stop, making him slightly carsick, "you don't say," he bounced his leg up and down, "how far are we?"

"Uh-" Wendy sounded unsure and Vince frowned, opening his eyes.

"What is it...?" there was a car ahead of them in the road, which by itself was already weird, given the suburbs route was pretty empty. To top it off, it wasn't moving.

Vince's stomach let out another nasty growl and he felt a cramp so painful that it stole his air. Now, he allowed his body to overtake his mind, conflict forgotten for a second as the nausea rolled through him in waves.

Vince wrapped both arms around his middle, folding as much as the little space in the car allowed him to, and letting out a sickly burp towards his feet. There was a soft weight on his back and he realized with a second of delay that it was Wendy's hand. Another stab of guilt joined the swirling mess in his stomach.

"Wen-" Vince started to say, but his weak attempt at an apology was interrupted by a knock on her window.

She rolled it down just a smidge and Vin turned his head, ignoring the vertigo that assaulted him, to see the face of a deputy.

"Yes?!" Wendy exclaimed over the wind, the snowstorm picking up strength and nearly swooping away the officer.

"The road is blocked, ma'am!" The man all but screamed to drown out the wind, "a tree collapsed!"

Oh shit.

Vince let out a groan, gulping down the sickening saliva that flooded his mouth. He could taste the dip in the back of his throat and, much to his despair, he felt a cramp squeeze his intestines, bubbles rushing down as well.

Wendy was still talking, although he couldn't make much sense from it. Something something at least three more hours something something snowstorm something something something she was a doctor, they didn't need help. Damn he must look awful if the officer had noticed even through such low visibility...

The car's engine revved up and Vince forced himself to turn his head, slurring, "what...?"

"We can't go this way, it'll take hours to remove the tree. I'm driving us back to Bell's."

Vince wanted to cry. Not just because of how awful he felt on top of the guilt, but because he was nervous to go back to his best friend's house, when he should've felt relief. For a split second he thought it'd be better to be horribly ill stuck in the car, instead of facing Luke and Bell, and that sheer realization hit him like a brick wall.

"Do you need me to pull over?" Wendy's voice was more gentle now, a hand haphazardly pushing his curls away from his clammy face, "honey?"

Vince nodded, unable to form words with how heavy his jaw was feeling. Wendy removed her hand from his back and he felt the car speed up, then slow down as she found a better spot to park it.

"Alright-" Wendy started to say and Vin interrupted her with a harsh gag. Nothing came up, except the motion squeezed the air in his stomach and a frothy burp rolled up. Wen reached over him, pushing his door open.

The cold was biting, but Vince pushed himself fully out of the car, standing up and leaning his back against its bodywork, as he stared at the frozen side of the road grass, quickly getting powdered with snow.

There was a horrid taste in the back of his throat and he cleared it, spitting the ropey saliva and breathing in and out, slowly... His stomach gurgled angrily and Vin pressed a hand against it, groaning as his belly felt sloshy and tender, the slight pressure sending up another burp that fizzled out in his mouth-The gag took him by surprise. So sudden that Vince didn't have any time to fold forward, projectile vomiting on the gutter.

He gasped for air, chest heaving, and wet deaf as another heave squeezed him by the middle, now crumpling with his hands on his knees as he coughed up more chunky mouthfuls of the tortillas and dip, as well as the frothy beer.

His nose was running and his eyes watering, stomach still rolling and the unrelentless nausea making it hard for him to string together a sentence as Wendy circled the car and planted a hand on his arm, passing him her water bottle.

Vince swished it in his mouth, but didn't dare drink it, wiping his nose on his sleeve, manners be damned, "what the fuck..." he whimpered, closing his eyes as another cramp squeezed his intestines, "fuck."

"Do you think you can get back in the car?" Wen's voice was more gentle than he deserved and Vince couldn't be thankful enough. He nodded, but didn't move a muscle, shivering violently as the snow started to collect on his shoulders.

"C'mon," Wendy ushered him, throwing his door open once more, "we'll back at the house in no time and you can lie down-"

"Luke and Bell-"

"-Will understand," Wendy scoffed, sounding frustrated, "they're your friends, they love you, they wouldn't want you sick on the side of the road, Vin."

She made perfect sense and yet Vince couldn't bring himself to believe her. He leaned his head forward and it met Wendy's tummy, so she wrapped her arms around him, dusting the snowflakes off his jacket and running her gloved fingers through his sweaty hair in a soothing manner, "it'll be alright, honey," Wendy promised.

Vince nodded against her stomach, groaning as another burp rolled up and all he could do was press it against the fabric of her coat, "m'sorry..." he slurred, struggling to think clearly, "we gotta go."

"Yep," Wendy pressed a kiss on the top of his head, undoing their hug and waiting as Vince curled up on his seat so she could slam his door closed.

The front door was unlocked and Thank God it was because Vince was shivering violently and struggling to stay upright as they walked back inside the place.

The living room was deserted and Wendy ushered him to the half bath downstairs, only for Vince to open the door and immediately jump back as Jonah retched loudly.

"Shit," Wendy whispered, while Vince's stomach clenched with vengeance at the gruesome sight of Jon bringing up his lunch in the toilet.

"What- What are you two doing here?" Leo asked, rubbing Jonah's back, crouched down next to his fiancé.

Wendy gestured around, "uh- there was a tree in the road-"

"Wen..." Vince all but whimpered, curling up more as his intestines cramped. His sweater was glued to him thanks to the cold sweat and he was feeling nauseous all over again.

"Oh no, not you too..." Leo groaned, paling and Vince let out a little burp, a splash of sick rushing up and falling on the hand he tried cupping his mouth with. He lurched for the sink to wash it off, trembling like a puppy as the cramps continued to steal his air away.

"There's a second bathroom upstairs," Wendy planted a hand on his arm, rubbing it, "you think you can hold it?"

Oh it was embarrassing. And humiliating.

Vince lowered his head, but couldn't help but nod as his stomach felt even more bubbly. Jonah, draped over the toilet, let out a groan, palming his bloated belly as if he wanted to sink his fingers in and get rid of the food poisoning manually.

"Vin?"

He really didn't have any agency in deciding, as the urgency of a bathroom grew greater than any shame or fear of going upstairs where he was certainly not invited.

They passed by a room with boxes and the suite's door was open and Vin could catch a glimpse of red, which he assumed was Bella's hair, but all that mattered was getting himself sat in a toilet before disaster.

Embarrasment be damned, Vince had no time whatsoever to kick Wen out and he was thankful he didn't, because as he sat down with the runs and sobbed as his intestines seemed to want to fold into themselves, Wendy planted the plastic trash bin on his lap just in time for more frothy vomit to rush up.

"God..." he spat inside the bin, resting his forehead on its edge and staring at his lap. His belly was so bloated it was pushing against his sweater and Vince tried, fruitlessly, to tug at it, before giving up.

There was a knock on the door and Wendy sighed, squeezing his shoulder as she walked to it and opened. Vince saw a glimpse of Luke's face, worried and confused, before Wen closed the door behind her, stepping outside.

Hushed whispers outside his door and Vince's head swam as he empty heaved inside the bin once more.

It seemed like it took him forever to stop getting sick, but finally he was just wrung out. Nothing was coming out, from either end, and there were black spots dancing in the corners of his vision and a weird buzzing in his ear.

The minute he stood in front of the sink to wash his hands, the whole world tilted left and Vince nearly collapsed, bracing against the granite and taking deep, slow breaths.

He stumbled outside, grabbing on the walls to keep himself upright. Wendy was nowhere in sight and he wanted her, but she was probably downstairs getting him medicine or checking on Jon...

The staircase was an impossible obstacle and Vince gave up on the first step as everything blurred together, instead he changed routes straight to the suite, instinctually seeking out Luke's comfort, to hell if his best friend was pissed or not.

Luke wasn't in the room, but Bell was. She was curled up in bed, a weird shade of washed out beige, and with a heating pad pressed to her tummy. The black graphic wool dress, with red flames licking up from the hem, was gone and instead Bella was stuffed inside one of Luke's hoodies, with the hood pulled up and shielding away her mane of auburn hair.

She raised her eyes as Vince braced against the threshold, taking deep breaths to keep from collapsing as his knees were wobbling, "you look great," Bell said dryly and it was really all invitation he needed.

Vin stumbled further in, half sitting, half falling against the king sized bed. There were boxes scattered around the room that Vin knew were probably driving Lucas' crazy. Bella's shoes everywhere.

"Bell," he turned to look at her and she immediately waved him off.

"It's okay, you couldn't have known," Bella dismissed his apology before it was out of his mouth and Vince scoffed, curling up on the bed and falling on his side, head resting on his hand, elbow on a pillow.

"I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have made that joke. It was stupid," he said, regardless of her dismissal, and Bell shrugged, looking down and tugging at the embroidery of their duvet cover.

"Yeah, it was," she mumbled, sounding like it pained her to say it. As if on cue, her stomach let out a nasty growl and Bella curled up even more, pressing her face to the duvet cover and blowing out a burp under her breath, "sorry..."

Vince rolled his eyes and reached, haphazardly, so he could pat her head much like he would his sisters, "did you poison all of us?"

"Believe it or not, I went out of my way not to poison you," Bella scoffed, scooting on the bed so she could press her head to his bicep as Vince rolled to face up, a new wave of nausea washing over him.

"Uhm..." he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth once more, trying to figure if he should be getting up or if he even could get up, given how dizzy he was.

Bell squirmed against him, rolling on the opposite direction and fishing out a bowl from the ground, planting it on her lap- She jerked with a violent, empty heave and Vince's stomach churned harder at the noise. His limbs felt like they were weighting a thousand pounds, but still he scooted closer, fishing out the curls that escaped from her hood and puling them back.

Bell's horrid heaves tapered out in a cough attack and finally she stopped, panting as if she had just run a marathon and spitting in the bowl, "Aw..." she whined, clutching her throat, "hurtssss..." her voice was raspy from the effort.

She went to put the bowl down, but Vince stopped her, squeezing her wrist and causing Bella to turn and look at him.

"Oh man, here-" she passed him the bowl, seeing Vince's green complexion and him struggling to gulp down. He drooled over the bowl, letting out a groan as he felt Bella drape on his back, not quite rubbing it seeing she was boneless, but trying to.

He shook with a burp and then another, a splash of frothy vomit coming up at its tail-end. Vince hung over the bowl, erratic breath and hands so sweaty the plastic was slipping in his tight grip.

"Hey, Wendy said you can try some pepto no-" Lucas' voice faded as the words came out and suddenly there was a much stronger set of hands on his back. Luke moving to cup his forehead, thumping his back with his other hand and sighing.

"Let it up, Vin..."

He whimpered, not due to the nausea now, and tried to get a good look at Luke's face, but he was too dizzy and lifting his head that quickly was no good. Vince swayed and Bella let out a curse, her long nails sinking in his arm like claws as she kept him put and said in a strong tone, "Luke!"

Lucas' arm wrapped around his back and Vince collapsed fully against him, pressing a burp against his collarbone, "I don't feel well..."

"Yeah, I know," Luke said calmly, rubbing his arm, "get it out of your system, Vin."

TBC

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Paper Cuts." Intro—Daryl Dixon.

(Not my gif)

A/N: Hello everyone.

Once again, with great fear, I show you the intro of this little series, set before the apocalypse. This story is to show a little bit of how you and Daryl met before the end of the world, so I hope you like it! Thank you very much for giving it a chance. (I'm taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented on the post I made asking if you would like to read this story, and those who read "Like there was no tomorrow" but if you don't want to, don't hesitate to say so :)

Endless nights wondering why?

The emptiness in his uncomfortable mattress, always in the same position, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Insomnia, always alert, waiting still for the screams from the other side of the door and everything that brought, even if the perpetrators became ghosts a long time ago. Memories of his childhood desecrated, nightmares in his failed attempts to fall asleep, alone, until eventually boredom and tiredness forced him to close his eyes, only to then repeat the cycle in which he lived for many years. But not completely asleep, but always knowing the answer to: why I can’t? although never accepting the truth, living with it like a paper cut in his hand that burned.

All of that and more turned the boy into a young man who grew up unable to heal the wound, but that, at some point in his existence, found a way to live with it and without feeling any pain no more, because someone told him that, in the end, we’re all a little broken, and that's okay. At that moment his hand stopped hurting, and although it turned out rough after a lifetime of working with them, now the callousness of his fingers is invisible to you, nonexistent as Daryl continues to slide them over the small of your back, under your black t–shirt, up and down lazily because now, not sleeping is a choice.

Lying on his right side, his outstretched arm is the nest of your head and warm body while sleeping on your stomach, your hand in a loose fist against your face, a habit that makes him chuckle before he gently pushes it away, only to put his finger under your nose, just to check that you’re still breathing. Yeah, there you are, the responsible for the collision of his little world, fracturing the silence that Daryl Dixon had managed to achieve in his solitude. But he wouldn't change this for anything.

However, when the door of his old apartment opens and hits the wall with a thud, his natural protective instinct, the one that was born the first time he took care of his mother after witnessing her first blackout, makes his hand, a second after that resounding sound, leave your back only to press it against your ear to block out the loud giggles coming from the hallway.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep.

“Fuckin' asshole.” Daryl grunts in frustration, listening to the way his older brother silences whoever is accompanying him that night.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Merle laughs from the other side of the closed door on his way to his own room, intoxicated by alcohol and other things. “M' sure ma baby brother’s lil' angel is in there and we don’ wanna wake 'em up, darlin'...”

Although a short time later, the small apartment is filled with moans that travel through the thin walls.

“Goddamn it.” Tired, Daryl closes his eyes, wondering why the hell he hasn't been able to leave that shitty place.

Maybe it was the fear of starting, never something new because Daryl always lived tied to the past, to the pain and his scars, to the usual, to old habits, to his older brother who despite everything, is still his family. Although the ring hidden in his last drawer weighs with the opportunities he missed, that he let pass by for fear of rejection, for fear of his feelings overflowing when he had lived a life feeling little, or nothing at all. But then, there is a giggle on your part that forces him to open his eyes again, taking his hand away from your ear when Daryl sees you rubbing your closed eyelids before opening them, (with the fist you use to block your own breathing as he usually says to mock you) little by little to get used to the semi–darkness of the room and the partial light that enters through the only window.

“I think someone is filming a very dirty porno in your house.”

Daryl chuckles.

“M' sure the idiot paid her a lot of money to do that.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“Though I’ve never met such a religious person calling God that way.”

Surprised, Daryl lets out a laugh as he rubs his face, waking back up just as he was managing to fall asleep.

“Maybe we should jus' keep sleepin' at yer place.”

You nod softly, bringing your loose fist back up to your face.

“I think so. No offense, but your mattress is kinda hard.”

“Shit. Sorry, peach.” His hand finds its way back to your exposed skin, pushing himself close to your body. “M' gonna buy a new one. Now try to sleep 'cause I have to take yer pretty ass to work in the mornin'.”

You chuckle, closing your eyes, knowing well that now, easily, he too will go back to sleep.

You and Daryl had more in common than he ever thought you two would have, because he never met someone like you: a little broken but determined to live life to the fullest, as if you had never left little pieces of yourself behind. Maybe it was the memories of an interrupted childhood, the cigarettes shared on the edge of that lake of the woods where he usually takes you, the jokes you make with your sassy mouth, making fun of him like no one had ever done before, while showing him that laughing more than once a year was allowed, and that trips on his motorcycle were more fun in pairs.

But between meeting each other and breaking up, there was a life that was worth living even with those pains in our scars. Because now you know that the important thing about being alive is to live, even with those paper cuts on our skin that sometimes feel like bullet wounds, but those that, at some point in our lives, will no longer hurt at all.

@spookygothmommy @walkingtalkingsomething @m1nda0 @fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue

[doppel-doodles]

Thoughts and feelings on Poppy: Small analysis.

Didn't think I would make another one of these anytime soon buuuuut looks like my brain had different plans, so let's dicuss the knock-off Chucky shall we?

While by no means her biggest fan I feel like Poppy actions deserve a bit more civil discussion than hate. (That's not to say that you shouldn't hate on her. You should, it's hilarious.)

While not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, I genuinely think Poppy kinda has a point with her ambition to blow everything up.

Like- rationally that is the objectively the better choice to bury everything because be for real with me: These toys are not safe and neither is the world outside the factory.

There is a higher chance of them being locked up for research or being shot on sight than there is of anyone actually trying to integrate them into society, and even if someone did there is also a very likely scenario of any stress Inducing situation causing a toy to feel threatened and go into fight mode, which how you get a dead guy on the floor.

And even if they lived in hiding instead, exactly how different would that be from living in the factory? Now instead having to worry about murder toys they also have stuff like: weather,wild animals and of course humans-

So an ideal solution would be to bury it all, let the victims finally rest in peace, make these horrors public and never repeat this mistake again.

Of course there is the fact that these are not objects or mindless monsters, they are all still people with very real human emotions and thoughts who have shown themselves to be capable of being peaceful when feeling safe.

But even in an ideal world I doubt that there wouldn't be any incidents considering that anyone currently alive in the factory is or was at one point a murderer.

Where Poppy lost me is the part where she made it abundantly clear that SHE would get to live, not because it was a necessary step, no,no she just didn't wanna die. If YOU make the decision to sink the ship then you better be ready to go down with it captain.

She is part of this, a part of the horrors. They will live on with her just like they would with ANY other living toy she does not get a pass just because she is tall enough to be kicked around like a football, if Bobby bearhug overhere was able to maul me to death then so can she-

It's honestly just a dick move on her part and a massive "fuck you" to everyone else as it implies that she somehow is special or deserves to live more instead of them when she is no different than the others, but their sacrifice insures her survival.

That is why we side with Doey outside the game.

But-

A point people tend to brush aside is that she isn't just looking out for her own survival, the plan is that we,kissy and poppy are going to rescue the orphans sleeping in the factory but like, how do we know they are actually alive?

Even if we take Poppy at her word(which we shouldn’t as she is an unreliable narrator) that they weren't killed during the hour of joy and actually were put into a coma, that was years ago.

Once you think about the likelihood of that still being the case you start to see all the holes in that statement.

You tell me a bunch of children put into a medically induced coma for YEARS are still alive and well under the care of an insane monster in a factory that's falling apart?

If that's the case I want the prototype as my actual doctor he probably has already found a way to keep me young and healthy forever.

If 2+2=4

Stay with me here.

Then I ain't gotta be a genius to know this shit don't add up-

Like Poppy is also not dumb, I think she would’ve at least considered that possibility right?

Or maybe she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want to consider that scenario.

Poppy is a very flawed character: A coward,selfish and very headstrong in her plans. She’ll figure out how to get her way whether you like it or not and she tends to not pay the feelings of others not much mind, focusing on the bigger picture.

But she is far from the worst person here, she is a victim in all of this but that doesn’t mean she is incapable of being bad either.

Those flaws mentioned above as well as her fear to get locked up again or worse drive a lot of her actions in game and clearly she has ulterior motives.

I find her fascinating, similar to kevin she is not the perfect victim so I get the vibe that the fandom is way harsher to judge her.

People also don't simp for her like they do for the doctor and completely disregard all of his actions but I digress-

Anyway thanks for joining me fellas that's all I'm gonna say for now.

[tanadrin]

I see the points people are making that “addiction” is maybe not the ideal model to discuss this, but I also am very sympathetic to the idea that some people have problems with compulsive porn/masturbation to the point that it’s detrimental for them. I’d never claim there’s a chemical dependency as in, eg, smoking or cocaine use or something.

We need a simple word for “habit that has negative effects on my life, but which I don’t seem to have the self-control to eliminate”. Calling it addiction was/is supposed to encourage efforts to help people stop, but all it’s seemed to do is spawn the growth of weird evangelical 12-step programs for being horny.

I want to be horny, if anything, I’d like to be much *more* horny, that’s why I’m trying to quit watching porn.

for reference (and why this is on anon) I’ve probably jerked off 1-3 times a day, every day, for like 10 years, this isn’t a case of catholic guilt over mild sexual behavior. I have a very hard time staying aroused, I have a hard time even getting aroused, and I have a hard time finishing without fairly intense stimulation. If I take 1-2 weeks off of porn (challenge level, nearly impossible) I see improvements in these areas.

Several years ago, I made it almost 6 weeks, and by the end of it, I was firing on all cylinders like I was 19 again. Sadly, it apparently wasn’t the sole issue. I went to the club, picked up a woman, I got hard when we were dancing, I got hard when we were making out outside the bar, but when we were in my car and she put her hand on me, my guy was nowhere to be found. She went home by herself, I went home and was so horny I was able to get 110% hard and jerk off purely from my mind. Idk where that energy was when it counted, sadly.

Weirdly, taking a break from orgasming but continuing to watch porn often actually makes it worse. I tried edging for 8-10 days once, and by the end of it, I could barely get hard for my favorite types of video.

I’m in my late 20s now, and I know some things slow down, but I thought I was still a bit young for this type of thing. The problem is that I just can’t stop scrolling porn on twitreddit. When I’m bored, porn, when I’m lonely, porn, when I’m anxious, porn (and I’m anxious a lot).

A few months ago, I made it a week, and I was buzzing and confident, but then I backslid and went back to my old habits. It was nice while it lasted, I’d deeply missed feeling that little twitch of arousal from a random thought or from flirting with a pretty stranger. I feel neutered these days, there’s no hunger anymore.

I don’t think I’m anti-sex, really. I’ve only felt guilt from casual or relationship sex a couple of times, and my guilt from masturbation has more to do with frustration that I know it’s bad for me than with some idea of moral inferiority.

sorry if this is insane.

I really just want to stop watching porn so I can try to start dating or sleeping with people again, not much point when I’m 97% afraid my cock won’t work. It might not medically be an addiction, but for me it’s definitely a self-destructive habit.

sounds like a bunch of different things going on here. for one habituating yourself to a very specific kind of stimulus can make it hard to get off in other ways--one approach that seems to work for some people who are in a similar boat (especially men who are used to jerking off with a firm grip) is to vary how you masturbate, use different kinds of stimulus, and learn to come in other ways. masturbation provides a very close feedback loop between stimulus and response, in a way that is always going to be very different from partnered sex--most people who masturbate regularly can make them come much more quickly that way, even if they find, in absolute terms, sex with a partner to be much more pleasurable.

(an important component in re-habituating yourself like that is not to fall back on the technique that works when you get frustrated and can't come, which is why it can be difficult for some people to manage)

separately from this, having trouble maintaining an erection with a new partner is also a thing lots of men report, regardless of how much porn they look at--sometimes you get nervous! it's easy to get nervous with a new partner! this is why god invented oral sex and fingering. that kind of picking-up-a-stranger-at-a-club casual sex works well for some people, but it sure doesn't work for everybody. and because arousal and erections are heavily dependent on state of mind, being nervous about being able to get an erection can, unfortunately, make it harder to get and maintain an erection. so there's a feedback loop there that can be pretty hard to break.

thirdly, if the only filler in your life is porn--if you spend a lot of time bored or anxious with nothing to fill those gaps other than porn--it sounds like a big problem here might just be boredom or anxiety, fundamentally. i don't know you, so i'm speculating, but maybe you need hobbies, or more of a social life, or are having issues with low-grade depression that getting out of the house more would help with. and if you're fixated on porn as the cause of these issues rather than just a symptom, you're also going to be struggling with the self-esteem hit of falling back into the habit of looking at porn, which is happening because, well, you're bored and anxious and you have nothing else that helps you deal with that feeling.

[strtravels]

It made him laugh now, even if the statement had caught him off guard all those years ago. It had been the first Christmas that they had spent together; as it had been tradition – and still was – they had found themselves in his mother’s living room on the first day of Christmas, celebrating with the family. And then there had been the statement. A look at one of the pictures his mother kept around, and Gordy had noticed how much Ed looked like his own father. Everything except the eyes. It had been a sore spot. It still was one, if he was honest. Especially now that he was a father, he couldn’t understand his own father and what Ed saw as negligence towards the family, at all. Family was the most important thing in his life.

– Which was why he just gave his son a bright smile and shrug his shoulders. “It's all forgotten now, Gordy. Y’didn’t know that, did ya? An’ I was never mad at ya for sayin' I look like my dad. Just to make that clear again! – But to answer your question: I was still on active service then, yes. Till ‘round late ‘ 96. So I was on active service for ‘round… 15 years. 14 with UNIT.” That maths sounded off to his own ears, but it was true. Over a decade he had been troubleshooting, only to stop, because he had to. For his own health and for, what might even have been more important to him: FOR LOVE. He didn’t regret it. It had been a good decision, and he had found a job more suitable for caring for a family and for his own age; he couldn’t ignore the latter for forever.

“But look – I'd say that's a proper example, innit? You don’t 'ave to do the same thing your whole life, so you don’t 'ave to be listenin' to some advice they give ya now, based on some daft algorithm or whatnot. You can go an' study biochem now, if that’s what you want, an' if you fancy bein’ a geography teacher 15 years after you’ve finished uni? Nowt should stop ya from just doin' that, then. I’m not gonna tell ya what you should do and what you shouldn’t do – I’ll throw in some exceptions, 'cause I’m still responsible for ya, y'know? But there’s nowt wrong with changin’ yer mind about things. Your mum’s gotta be with me on that.”

He was sure about it. Kate had changed her mind, after all, too and while they both wanted for Gordy to go through life a little easier than either of them had (even if that had been for different reasons), there were some experiences one couldn’t avoid. And who said that Gordy wouldn’t just end up loving biochem and a job in a lab? For Ed it was easier to imagine that, then his son as a soldier.

“Maybe you should have a conversation with your mates about it. I know it ain't as fun as other stuff, but – hearing it from your dad's probably as useful as him saying you’re not a boring git.”

"Better or worse than when I said you look like your dad?" He's never quite forgiven himself for that, though he'd been genuinely unaware of what Ed's father had been like - and quite a bit younger - when he'd made the comment. He can't imagine working to support his family, though, being the main breadwinner for so many people. It's a lot of pressure, and that makes Gordy sad ( although maybe sad is too basic a word to apply here ). "How long were you in, in the end? 'Cause I remember that you were still on active service when you started coming round regularly." His memories of living on the houseboat are hazy by now, but he remembers the fallout after he'd almost drowned with a certain kind of clarity that often makes him wonder if what he remembers is actually just a mix of other people's memories and his own imagination.

It's not like he's given zero thoughts to his future --- but it's also not like he's focused a hundred percent of his attention on it either. It's just... there, hanging over him like a threat or a promise depending on the day. And isn't it better to keep your options open, rather than to close more doors than you open? Just because he's not very happy with the questionably accurate results of his careers quiz, doesn't mean he's going to say that he'll never become a geography teacher or a policeman. "I think... I might like to go to uni and study Biochem, though." That'll get him into a lab for sure, and there should be enough jobs in a variety of fields to give him options later.

"Nah, telling us why we ended up with the results we did might actually involve them knowing how the algorithm works." A snort; a roll of his eyes ( one of his careers advisors still struggles to use a computer --- not the best start to discussions about his future, honestly ). "I don't have to listen to their advice, right?" Just because the careers people think he might be good at something, doesn't mean that he will actually be good at them. Honestly, looking at the state of some of his teachers, Gordy's not planning on going back into a school once he's left if he can avoid it.

"We're applying for university places in like a year, though. There's not that much time to keep working stuff out. At some point, I'm going to have to commit to something." And as for his friends... "We don't really talk about stuff like that that much."

[toonagi]

UM. MASS ATTACK

it's been a hot minute since i've done a big group shot like this (and by "hot minute" i mean like 5 years) so uh. zoo wee mama that's a lotta hedgehogs (plus one (1) warrior cat and a porcupine)

individual groups under the cut. i'll be putting character names & owners down there too :]

this attack has a whopping 33 characters in it so um....... long post warning

group #1 (also known as Mandatory Vacation in my files):

Archie ( @interstellarchaosss )

Astraeus ( @simpalert )

Zonic of PZSFI ( @ciphergrowl )

group #2 (aka Beast Pack in my files. look i had to name the folders to keep everything organized ok)

Agartha ( @sa2ration )

Werehog Spikes ( @hyper-cryptic )

Monster AU Sonic (Rougelynesdisco on ArtFight)

Halcyon ( @mystigaron )

group #3 (silly billies)

Blurfoot ( @guiltypandas )

2000s Web Sonic (Prismsonic on ArtFight)

Nicolas ( @zzcarnotauro )

Prism Sonic (also Prismsonic)

group #4 (Therapy)

TDC!Sonic (donnie on Artfight)

Virtuosity!Sonic ( @minecraftfan11onscratch )

Nikopulous!Sonic ( @bensbean )

group #5 (da bench)

Frost ( @simpalert )

Tactile (ULTRAVIXLENCE on ArtFight)

Dreamwalker Sonic ( @the-cosmic-blogger )

group #6 (nincombots)

Murder Drones Sonic ( @cat-dragron-arts & @cherbearsz )

SD-C (also cat-dragron & cherbearsz)

Dr. Needlemouse ( @lilcrazybat )

group #7 (eeeek a spider - also mva sonic's quills are cut off a little sorry)

Undertale Sonic ( @gettingfizzical )

MVA!Sonic ( @weirdozjunkary )

Mach Spider ( @chaosspear )

group #8 (oooooo spooky)

Rise ( @mercurymarine404 )

Taxidermy!Sonic ( @cxrpsehub )

group #9 (gender)

Sonic the Squidhog ( @stormloup )

Nikki ( @transgirlsonic )

Crystallized AU Sonic ( @12neonlit-stage )

Arrow (SparksSystem on Artfight)

Vi (also SparksSystem)

group #10 (no silly folder name for this one. sorry) :[ )

SOMA!Sonic ( @citystreetfunk )

Vampire Sonic (the-cosmic-blogger)

group #11 (actually not a group it's just speedy)

Speedy the Porcupine ( @jays---wing )

and some bonus doodles from while i was working on this. as a treat :] (feat. zonic having The Day Ever)

hehehehaha i love an excuse to draw a niche character that i really like for some reason. anyway hooray yippee my adhd ass completed a large project!!!! ^_^ time to write a whole novel in the tags as per usual

[theposhperyton]

[headfullof-ideas]

HELP I JUST CAME UP WITH ANOTHER ANT!ANGST PROMPT-

[dethmetalmutt]

IT’S MY SSHIP ANNIVERSARY TODAY AHHHH

[rainyrambles-overcod]

these took me ~4 hours to do in total and omg I actually really like them so now I must share🥰

(They’re keychains)

[todayisafridaynight]

sister saw me wearing the puffer that i use for my daigo cosplay since im cold all the time and sweaters arent enough and she was just like 'i really like it :) you look so. 👊💥' and after going What she was like 'you look real cool :) is what i meant :)' like thank you sister of mine youre too silly for this life

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry