#They would grab one and cut it open with a machete and give it to you... So fresh and tasty

[moonlightspencie]

Wrong Time

Description: Dean doesn’t know how to act right. Sam doesn’t get the animosity. Reader is just trying to live life. Otherwise known as Mutual Pining: the Fanfic.

Pairing: jealous!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader, platonic!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous dean :), minor angst, spells and other supernatural things, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr like 3 years ago (rip in peace to the like 3k notes it had). then posted to ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

I walked into the bunker after Sam and Dean, throwing my bag down as soon as my feet hit the floor. I shuffled into the library, noticing Castiel at a table on a laptop.

“How was the hunt?” He looked up at me.

“It was crap,” Dean answered gruffly. I took a chance look at him, and he shot me a glare that could kill. “I’m taking a shower.”

Sam watched his brother stalk past. “I— it was… Fine. I mean, something almost went wrong, but we all ended up okay.”

Cas nodded slowly. Then he noticed my expression. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? You look unwell.”

“It was my fault.”

“(Y/N)—” Sam started.

“No, Sam, I mean— I was stupid. I almost got myself killed. I would have been if Dean didn’t find me first.”

“Still wasn’t your fault, we all make mistakes.”

“What do you mean you almost got killed?” Cas interjected.

I huffed a sigh, sitting next to him. Sam took a seat across from me.

“Well, we walked into the vamp nest, and started going to town. It seemed like it’d be pretty easy to take care of, but then I heard a boy crying. I went to go look for him, and— and I saw him. He was in another room, probably about 15, 16 years old. I didn’t think anything of it and went to go help him, but he… I was wrong. He was turned, just trying to get his prey to come to him, apparently.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What happened? Are you alright?”

I absentmindedly scratched at the table.

“I am now, I guess. I set down my machete like a fricken idiot, letting my guard down, and he jumped me. I tried grabbing it to fight him off, but he kicked it out of my grip. I thought it was the end of the line until Dean came barging in and got him off me. I was so stupid, he’s pissed.”

Sam reached across, brushing his thumb over the knuckles of my now-closed fist. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We got out okay. It was just a mistake.”

“And Dean—,” Cas began, “He is… It will be alright.”

He gave a kind smile as he said this. I tried one back at him before standing up and giving a quick goodnight. As I walked to my room, I hovered by Dean’s door before thinking better of it. I hated when he was angry with me, but figured I better not upset him more by barging in on his alone time. I hated when any of the boys acted coldly towards me, but Dean’s always cut the deepest for some reason. I wouldn’t let myself think on why that is for more than a few seconds, though. I walked to my room, changing into an oversized t-shirt and flopping onto my bed, essentially passing out.

I woke up in a cold sweat, tears wetting my face. I sat straight up, trying to catch my breath. My fingers gripped the sheets as I tried to keep my cool, but to no avail. I got out of bed, walking out of my room, and heading a few doors down. I knocked quietly before entering.

“Hello?” I spoke, voice wavering. I walked towards the sleeping figure, gently nudging his shoulder. “Sam?”

He rolled over, slowly opening his eyes. “(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

I wrung my hands.

“I— I had a nightmare. I can’t be alone right now,” I said, trying to hold back tears.

“Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, come here,” He replied, sitting up and scooting over. I sat next to him, pulling the covers over my legs as he threw an arm around me. “You alright?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned into him. “It was about the hunt. Except, it wasn’t me. I mean, I still went and found the boy, but, um, when Dean came in this time he— the kid knew somehow, and attacked. I tried helping, but I couldn’t move, and then… Then they, they got him. And it was my fault. He died.”

I noticed a few tears had escaped my eyes, and I rubbed at them quickly.

Sam hugged me into his side. “I’m sorry. That’s really tough.”

I nodded.

He continued, “But, you know, it was just a dream. We all got out, we’re all okay.”

“I know, but what if we didn’t? It would’ve been on me, it would be my fault.”

“There is always a “what if” when we do the things we do, and focusing on that is only going to cause you pain. Don’t do that to yourself,” Sam sighed, laying down and taking me with him. “Dean just needs to let this go, don’t let his attitude make you feel stupid.”

I nodded again. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Now, let’s go to sleep. C’mere.”

He pulled me into his chest, letting the hand that wasn’t around my shoulder rest near my rib cage. I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew I was waking to Sam’s snoring in my ear. We’d separated during the night, but my head was still against his arm, our legs still caught up together. This put me in a predicament as I tried to move away from him without waking him. I somehow managed to wiggle out of bed, and land on my feet; thankfully Sam was a surprisingly deep sleeper. I tiptoed to the door, slowly and carefully opening it and backing out. I shut it as quietly as I could, and turned around to see Dean walking towards me, looking down at his phone, only a few feet off.

“Morning,” I greeted him.

His steps faltered slightly as he looked up. “Morning.”

His expression changed from tiredness to confusion in an instant. He furrowed his brow, looking at me, then to the door I had just stepped out from.

“I’m making pancakes. If you want some, they’ll be ready in twenty.”

I smiled, nodding a thank you before he squeezed past me towards the kitchen.

‘He’s not mad at me!’ I thought to myself.

I went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower. I wrapped a towel around myself, and headed towards my room to get dressed. We had a day in, so I decided on a fresh pair of pajama shorts and another t-shirt. The smell of pancakes drifted through the bunker, and as soon as I stepped out of my door that smell carried me all the way to the kitchen. I stopped in the entrance, watching Dean for a moment. He stood at the stovetop, watching and flipping the pancakes as necessary. I watched the way his arms and shoulders moved until his simple gray tee, and how delicately his hands held the spatula. Then he turned and noticed me.

“Hey,” he said, taking the plate-full to the counter.

He was getting a little scruffy, having not yet shaved since a couple mornings ago. He looked tired, but peaceful. He looked handsome. I chewed my bottom lip, finally stepping into the small room.

“Hey. That smells amazing.”

I walked near him as he grabbed two plates, throwing a few pancakes on each. He handed me one, and we both went to work preparing them with with butter and syrup. I was about to take mine to the table, when his hand shot in front of mine.

“I’ll take these if you want to grab the coffee pot.”

He looked down at me, the sides of his lips just barely tilting up into a smile, and I felt a familiar flutter in my heart.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, then turned quickly to grab the coffee and two mugs, trying to push down that feeling as far as it could go.

I shuffled closer to him as he sat at one side of the table. I placed the mugs in front of the plates, filling each of them and setting the pot at the end of the table. I sat across from Dean, digging in immediately.

“Okay, wow.” I shoved another forkful in my mouth. “These… These are genuinely amazing. You shook cook more often.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I got a few tricks up my sleeve. What about you, though? Anytime you bake anything I lose my mind.”

“Guess I just have that effect on people,” I shrugged laughing.

“Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He smirked and glanced up, locking eyes with me for a moment that felt like forever. I looked away first.

“Um— about… About yesterday, Dean, I—”

He cut me off, throwing a hand up. “Just— Let’s just drop it. Okay?”

I nodded, looking down. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He took in a deep breath before things went silent for a while. We both were nearly finished when Sam came in the room, as much a morning person as ever.

“Morning, guys!” He smiled.

I couldn’t help but let out half a laugh at his cheerfulness. “You are way too excited in the mornings.”

He smiled my way.

Dean got up abruptly. “I’m gonna go work on Baby.”

As soon as he was out of the room, Sam raised an eyebrow at me. “He always goes out there when he’s upset. Did something happen? You two looked fine when I came in.”

I shook my head. “I tried talking to him about yesterday. Guess that was a mistake.”

Sam’s lips tightened. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. At least he let me eat his pancakes.” I smiled.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, guess that’s a start.”

We went about our day as usual; Sam worked out and looked up cases, Cas helped with case searches, Dean spent most of his day in the garage, and I decided on a movie marathon. Before long, it was later than I realized and I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Sam poked his head around the door. “What’s up? You’ve been in your room all day.”

“Oh, no worries. Just a movie marathon. Harry Potter, wanna join?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and fell belly-down on the bed next to me. We watched about half of the 6th movie before we stopped watching altogether. We talked and laughed all night long until we were passed out together. This time, I woke up again to Sam’s gentle snoring, but we were much closer. His right arm was once again under my head, but his left was wrapped tightly around me, and his chest pressed into my back. Admittedly, it was a bit strange, but on a cold morning, not unwelcome. I gently rubbed his forearm, trying to wake him.

“Sammy, get up. You’re trapping me here, pal.”

He groaned sleepily, hugging me just a little tighter before he opened his eyes and realized what he was doing. “Oh crap, I’m sorry.”

I laughed, “Dont worry about it. You were keeping me warm.”

He hummed, “Well in that case, you wanna go back to sleep for a little bit?”

“Fine. Five more minutes and then we get up.”

I giggled as he pulled me back in, nearly squeezing the life out of me for a moment.

“You know, as weird as this is, it feels nice to have a cuddle-buddy,” Sam breathed out.

“Hey, at least it’s nothing too scandalous,” I chuckled, eyes closed.

Then I heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Castiel’s voice rang through the closed door.

“What do ya need?” I answered back. Then I heard the door open, and looked up.

He started stepping in, but stopped dead in his tracks. “I, uh— Oh. Pardon me, I seem to be interrupting.”

“Cas—” I tried getting his attention but he’d already showed himself out the door. “Crap.”

Sam chuckled, I felt it in his chest. “That’s gonna be a fun one to explain.”

I sighed. “Hopefully he doesn’t go running his mouth so it’s an easy one to explain.”

I laid with him for a few minutes longer before my bladder called for release. “Sam, we gotta get up, man. I gotta pee.”

He groaned. “I don’t want to.”

“Whoa, what happened to happy-go-lucky, I-love-being-up-in-the-mornings Sam?” I half laughed.

“He’s tired,” he grunted out, rolling over.

I flipped to my back as he stole his arm from beneath my head, and sat up. I looked over to see him struggling to get up himself, but my urgency for the bathroom left no time for me to help him up. I bolted out the door to the bathroom and relieved myself, thinking of how to explain to Cas that what he saw was not at all what he thought it was. I ended up back in my room, finding Sam staring into space still sitting on the edge of my bed.

“You alright, Sammy?” I suppressed a smile.

His head shot up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was zoning out.”

I nodded, throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “You wanna go grab breakfast?”

“That sounds great.”

We left the room together, chatting on our way to the kitchen. Then, I nearly lost balance running into Cas.

“Oh, hey! We wanted to talk to you,” Sam said, tapping Cas’s arm with the back of his hand

He put his hands up, defensively. “No worries. I understand.”

I dragged my hand on the side of my face. “No, but you don’t. I know you caught us looking a little precarious, but trust me, we just fell asleep together. We were watching Harry Potter and passed out.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, okay. I was sure you two were sleeping together.”

I laughed, “Yeah, no. Not by a long shot, man.”

“Alright, well that definitely clears things up for me. I will see you later.”

“Seeya, don’t get into any trouble.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about me,” he smiled, walking past.

Sam and I entered the kitchen soon after, finding Dean alone with a cup of coffee and a computer.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam joked.

I walked over to him, leaning an arm on the table next to him, peering at the screen. “Found a case?”

He nodded silently, not looking up.

“Well?” Sam pressed, peeling a banana. “Care to enlighten us?”

Deans jaw ticked for a moment before he spoke gruffly, “Looks like a ghost. Strange, but similar, deaths happening at an old motel. So far three of ‘em.”

I took the seat next to him. “Where at?”

He pointed at the screen. “Plainfield, Wisconsin.”

I perked up, grabbing his arm for a moment. “Hey, that’s where Ed Gein committed all his murders!”

“Dude, yeah!” Sam joined in. “That guy was messed up.”

Dean huffed. “Well aren’t you two just perfect for each other. Be ready in half an hour.”

He got up, slamming the laptop shut and stalking out of the room.

I looked to Sam, confused. “What the hell is his problem?”

He shook his head, “No clue.”

I shook my head, slightly irritated. “Guess we gotta go get ready now.”

I walked out of the kitchen, going in the direction of my room. I stepped inside, pulling a duffel bad from my closet and throwing in at least enough clothes for a week, not knowing how long we’d be gone. After I was packed, I decided on a quick shower. I put my hair up into a topknot so I wouldn’t have to wash and dry it, and took the fastest shower I could. I finished getting ready a few minutes early, and grabbed all my things. I was going to throw it all in the car and wait for the boys, until my irritation got the best of me. I walked to Dean’s room, knocking on the door.

He answered harshly, “What.”

“It’s me, can I come in.”

“I guess.”

I flung the door open to find Dean standing there in the midst of getting dresssed. He was at his closet, so far only having his jeans and a tight-fit tee on, and I would be lying if I didn’t say that I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment. How in the world could he look so good rocking the simplest of things?

He pulled a flannel of a hanger, the deep red one that I liked. “What do you need?”

“I want to know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face me, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Nothing. Is that all?”

I crossed my arms. “You may do a lot of lying for the job, but you’re kind of the worst at it sometimes.”

He shot me a glance, unenthused. “Nothing is wrong. Let’s move on. We got stuff to do.”

“Dean.”

“(Y/N),” he shot back, staring for a second before going about his business.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m gonna find out sooner or later.”

He huffed out, almost a laugh, as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah. Sure.”

I turned on my heel, leaving the room, everything in me fighting against my urge to slam the door behind me. He really knew how to push my buttons, more than anyone else sometimes. The boys were finally ready and came out into the garage where I was waiting. I pushed myself off the side of the impala, getting in the car. Dean flew out of the garage, heading straight for the highway. Most of the car ride was silent, only the faint sounds of Dean’s music over the speakers. Then he had to open his mouth.

“So, you two are sleeping together now, huh?”

I almost choked, head whipping to the side to look at Sam. He did the same, glancing at me, confusion set in his face.

“What? Dean, no, why—”

“You two seemed to be getting pretty cozy the past couple nights,” he answered back, staring straight at the road.

I scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you coming out of his room yesterday morning, (Y/N), don’t act dumb. And Cas told me he walked in on you all over each other this morning.”

“That was not what was happening. We saw him this morning and explained it all. We just fell asleep watching a movie together.”

“And the night before?”

Sam spoke up, “(Y/N) had a nightmare, Dean. She couldn’t be alone.”

“What, so you slept together?” His hands held tightly to the steering wheel.

“Yes, and that’s all we did. Sleep. Nothing more, we don’t feel like that about each other.”

He bitterly laughed. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Dean, seriously.”

“Fine. We’ll drop it.”

I huffed out a breath. “Thank you.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. We only made one or two stops for gas and bathroom breaks. It took us about 10 hours before we arrived in Plainfield and searched for a place to stay the night. We finally found a little motel just outside of town, and booked a room. Luckily, a pull-out couch was included so I wouldn’t have to give Dean more ideas about Sam and I, and I wouldn’t have to spend the night beside someone who was pissed at me for no reason. I walked in the room to find it perfectly adequate. and I threw my bag down on the floor, beginning to open up the pull-out.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he came inside. “I can take that, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not making you take the couch, Sam.”

“It pulls out into a bed at least. And you aren’t making me if I’m offering. Now, move your crap.”

He nodded at my duffel.

I sighed as dramatically as I could, “Fine.”

“So dramatic.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I gotta be sometimes. Thank you, though.”

I pulled my bag away, walking to the far bed as throwing it down. I began unzipping it when I heard the thud of Dean’s duffel hitting the second bed behind me. I turned.

“What are we doing first?”

He glanced up at me. “Thought we’d check out the murder scene early tomorrow.”

“Alright. All three of us need to get dressed up?”

“Whoever wants to go.” He shrugged.

“I think I’ll hang back and do some more research on the town and possible leads, if that’s okay with you guys,” Sam said, setting his laptop on the small table in the room.

“Okay,” Dean answered, pulling out his ‘FBI’ suit to hang.

We went to bed, all exhausted from the trip. I woke up at 7 the next morning to Dean’s alarm blaring. We all ate a quick breakfast before getting ready to leave. I grabbed my suit, heading to the bathroom to change, and kicking myself for not being the one to stay at the motel. I didn’t know how I’d handle being alone with Dean, especially when he was in a mood. I changed quickly, making sure I looked professional enough to fool whoever we’d have to get past. I stepped out to see that Dean had already left the room.

I looked to Sam who had already got his computer up and running. “Where’d he go?”

“Waiting by the car outside,” he said, not looking up.

“Thanks.”

I walked across the room, stepping outside. Dean stood leaning against ththe impala, his back to me as I made my way over.

He heard my footsteps and turned. “Took you long enough.”

I stopped for a moment. Wow, he looks amazing right now.

“Gonna get in?” He asked.

“Oh. Yeah.”

I shook my head, opening the passenger door and sliding inside. He started up the car, and took off out of the parking lot.

“So,” he started, “you’re not sleeping together?”

“Dean. Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame me for thinking so, you two spend a lot of time together.”

I looked over at him. “Yeah, that’s kind of what friends do.”

“We don’t do that.” He shot me a quick glance, raising an eyebrow.

“Give me a time and place and we will, then.”

He tried to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. “Yeah, sure.”

“What? Don’t want rumors spreading about me and you?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t want those rumors.”

“Who said that?” I furrowed my brows, the corner of my mouth twitching upwards.

He smiled at me. Butterflies, again.

We drove a few more minutes into town before we reached our destination. I peered at the building through the windshield as we drove up. It was creepy. Caution tape everywhere, the old run-down motel, the cloudy skies; it looked straight out of a horror movie. Dean parked the car, and we got out, walking to the police officer that was waiting on his team inside. We flashed him our badges and he let us past.

“I’m surprised no murders happened here before this,” Dean said quietly, leaning in.

I laughed. “Yeah, not the nicest of places for sure.”

He hummed in agreement. “Let’s see if we got any Casper activity.”

He took out his EMF detector, walking around the room, being careful not to step in any of the dried blood. He took a lap; no readings.

“Huh. Nothing here.”

I glanced around. “What the hell would’ve done all of this though?”

“Dunno. Judging by how all of the blood left their bodies and ended up friggen everywhere else, I could’ve sworn it would be one of those suckers.”

I nodded. “Wanna try to hospital?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

We spent the day gathering as many clues and evidence as we could, to no avail. By nightfall, we decided to call it a day and head back to our room. We got inside to find Sam taking a nap.

Dean whispered to me, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I nodded. He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I decided to get dressed in something more comfortable and landed on a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt. Can’t get more laid back than that.

I sat on my bed for a moment before I heard Sam moving around. I looked his way as he opened his eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” I said.

He smiled. “Hey. You guys find anything useful?”

“Figure it’s probably not a ghost. Other than that, nope.”

“Mm.” He sat up, stretching before he stood. He walked over to me, taking a seat by my side and swinging an arm over my shoulders. “I didn’t find anything either. Not even connections between the people who died.”

“So weird.”

He agreed, falling back on the bed and taking me down with him. “Yeah. I’m sure something will turn up, though. It has to.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You wanna go out tonight?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m beat. I didn’t get my nap today.” I laughed.

He snorted, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

Then we heard the door open, Dean stepped out.

“What about you? You wanna go out tonight?” Sam asked him.

“I’m good,” he said without so much as a glance our way.

Sam sat up. “Man, both of you? Since when am I the one to go out alone?”

I chuckled, sitting up next to him. “Since now, apparently. Go, though! Have fun enough for all of us.” I nudged his shoulder.

He shrugged getting up to get ready. Then I heard the tv switch on, and looked over to Dean. There he sat, on his bed, flipping through channels.

“What are you gonna watch?” I asked.

He stared silently at the tv and shrugged. Here we go again.

I heaved out a heavy sigh, pulling out my phone to fiddle on. Sam came out of the bathroom with a new shirt on, and what smelled like a little bit of cologne. I looked up from my device as he pulled his shoes on.

“Who are you trying to impress, sir?”

He smirked. “We’ll have to find out. I’ll see you guys later.”

He left the room, leaving me and Dean to ourselves. I looked over at him again as he settled on an old comedy. He noticed.

“What?” He asked, eyes still unmoving from the movie.

“Your attitude is what.”

“I don’t have an attitude.”

I scoffed. “Oh, sure. We were fine working the case today, and now you’re acting like I stole all of your leftovers or something.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Funny how you keep saying that, and then end up in the same crappy mood again. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?”

“I can’t.” He grew impatient.

“Yes, you can.”

He sat up, finally looking at me. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I just can’t. It’s stupid, you wouldn’t understand it.”

He stared at me.

“Maybe I would if you’d just talk to me!” My voice raised slightly.

“Why do you even care?” His voice raised to match mine.

“Why do you think? I care about you, and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what is the problem?” I leaned forward, searching his face for an answer.

He sighed, voice lowering. “Can we— maybe we can talk about it tomorrow. Just— not tonight, please.”

I shrunk back. “Fine. Promise me.”

He tilted his head with a blank stare.

“I’m serious, Dean. Promise me.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Okay. I promise. You’re a pain, you know that?”

I shrugged. “You’ll get over it.”

He stared for a moment, my heart fluttering until he looked away again. He laid down, turning off the tv. I laid back too, turning off the lights.

“Goodnight,” he said, turning over.

“Goodnight.”

I woke up to sunlight hitting my face through the window. I glanced towards the couch; no Sam. Then my eyes went to Dean. He was still sleeping. I watched him for a moment; he looked so at peace. The lines in his face were smoothed out, no worries were apparent on him. His eyelids began to move, but I couldn’t pull my gaze from his face. He looked handsome in the early morning hours, his eyelashes delicately fluttering until his eyes were opened. He noticed me and smiled.

“Way to be creepy, watching me sleep.”

His voice was deep and soft and full of sleep.

I smiled back, “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t help it.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

I laughed. “Nah, only the special ones.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I don’t want to beat up monsters today.”

“If we can’t find out what’s killing people, you might not have to.”

“That isn’t a good option either.”

“I know.” I yawned, stretching out. “Guess Sammy found a girl.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at the empty space. “Oh.”

“You still believe we’re together now?” I raised my eyebrows.

He looked back towards me. “I might, might, have been wrong there.”

“Told ya.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “We better get the day going.”

I agreed. We fully woke up and grabbed some breakfast from a cafe down the street. We went back to the motel to find Sam in the shower, and our day went on as normal from that point on, until we found the clues we needed to lead us to the killer.

“A witch? Oh, come on, I’m so sick of them,” I complained.

Sam shrugged. “Hey, we found hex bags in each of the rooms. Most likely the owner of the motel, or someone who works there.”

“Maybe a maid? It’s always the butler, so maybe it’s always the maid too,” Dean suggested with a sly smirk.

“That, as lame as it is, actually could be a really great place to start,” I responded. “Let’s pack up and find out who’s been cleaning the place up.”

We went and questioned the owner to find out which employees had been working when the murders took place, and landed on only one housekeeper: a man named Ken. We got his address and decided to do a little questioning. We arrived to his house, and Sam knocked loudly.

The door creaked open. “Hello?”

“Hello, we’re with the FBI, we have some questions to ask you,” Sam responded, flashing his badge.

The man behind the door, opened it a little wider. He grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

He looked to me.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Dean stepped halfway in front of me before I could say anything. “You might want to watch yourself, you’re suspect for the murders that took place the night you were working at the motel.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh? Why don’t you come inside, then.”

He stepped just inside and he shut the door behind us.

“Anyways,” he began, “I’ve always wanted to meet the Winchester’s.”

Before we knew what was happening, our bodies flew up against the wall and landed on the ground harshly. We all attempted to scramble up, but as I attempted to stand, I felt a hand wrap around my neck. Ken pulled me backwards into him.

“Let her go,” Dean boomed.

Ken chuckled. “See, that’s where you’re making your mistake. Your little protective act only lets me know that your little girlfriend, here, is valuable to you. So, you might not like it if I just—”

He dropped me, and I felt my legs give out. It felt like all the air had been pulled from my lungs— No, it felt like I didn’t have lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

“You son of a—”

Thud!

Dean was slammed against the wall again. I watched from the ground where I lay as Sam attempted to go at him, but then it all went black.

I woke with a gasp, my body flying upwards in shock. I breathed heavily, finally catching my breath for the first time in what felt like eternity.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you’re okay.”

I heard a voice, foggy. I turned my head quickly, finding Dean right next to me. Wait, no, he was holding me. We were someplace else, maybe in the house still? I heard distant voices. I felt tired.

“I… think I… need a nap,” I said, barely hearing myself speak.

“Whoa, no, no, don’t fall asleep, okay? Just— Here, just look at me. Look here, stay awake,” he spoke to me as I tried to listen.

My eyes still felt heavy.

“But— I’m tired. Just a… Just a nap.”

“No, (Y/N), don’t fall asleep yet, okay? We gotta make sure you’re alright.”

“What… Where are we?”

“In the house of a very bad witch.” I heard a woman’s voice. I looked up to see red hair. “I mean, come on now, I was able to fix you right up quite easily.”

“Yeah, thank you, by the way,” Sam said to Rowena, a tight smile accompanied his words. My vision began clearing.

“What are you doing here? What happened?” I cleared my throat, trying to sit up to find Dean’s chest hard against my back. I noticed his arms around me, too. I ran my fingers over one of his forearms, happy to be there. Then I realized there were two other staring at me, trying to communicate. I stopped and tried to listen.

“—and then, well, you’re lucky Sam had enough sense to call me when he realized what you’d be dealing with, otherwise, my dear, you’d be dead. Hmm.”

“Oh. How’d we get away, though?”

“It was really all me, of course.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “You’d have really been in trouble otherwise, too, with Dean letting his jealously get the best of him and punching someone in the face.”

“Yeah, well, the douche bag deserved it.” I felt him speak, the bass in his voice vibrating in his chest. “He was getting too handsy with her.”

“I would have gotten him away quicker if you hadn’t made him even more angry, Mr. Winchester,” Rowena sassed. “Anyways, I’ve got things to do more important than speaking with you two giants and the wee fuzzy-brained girl. Toodleloo.”

She picked up her dress and walked out of the house. I liked her.

“I like her,” I giggled.

I started feeling funny. Almost drunk, maybe more giddy.

“Can’t say I feel exactly the same,” Dean said.

“Regardless, she did save us there,” Sam responded.

I laughed, “Yeah, she’s fun.”

“I would’ve gotten him,” Dean continued his conversation with Sam.

“Dean, we all would’ve been in trouble if she wasn’t here. Even you’ve gotta admit to that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He reached into his pocket for the keys, throwing them at Sam. “Here, go start the car.”

“Alright, hurry it up,” Sam said as he left.

I leaned my head up to look at Dean. “So, you were jealous, huh?”

“I am not. I just didn’t want his grimy hands on you, now come on, let’s get you back to the hotel.”

I felt movement as he began to move from behind me. I tried to stand up, but before I could, I felt his arms swing underneath me. He picked me up, and carried me out the door. I held onto his neck, enjoyed time in close proximity to him and wishing I could just tell him how I felt about him. If I could even figure it out for myself. He sat me in the backseat, helping me buckle in before we took off. Soon enough, we were back at the motel and Sam decided to go on a dinner-run. Dean and I entered the room alone, he helped me to walk until I could sit down.

“Here, just sit here,” he said, helping me to rest on the edge of his bed. He moved around me, squatting down between my legs and looking up at me. “Are you okay?”

I tilted my head, looking at him looking at me. “Yeah.”

He let out half a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrugged, a contented smile on my face. “You’re cute.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I figured out why you’ve been so grumpy,” I cut him off, unable to stop from speaking.

He put his hands on the bed on either side of my legs. “Why’s that?”

“I think you didn’t like me and Sam.”

“I already told you I wasn’t mad at—”

“No, no, no. You didn’t like us together. You were being jealous. Like with the weird witch man. Rowena said so, and she’s smart.” I giggled.

He raised an eyebrow, gulping. “Uh, let me get you some water. Maybe that’ll help.”

“I’m right.”

“Now’s not the time to talk about this stuff, (Y/N), let’s just—”

“Uh uh. You said we’d talk about it today.”

“We can, later.”

He tried getting up, but I put my hands on his shoulders.

“But I like you, I wanna talk now.”

“This is just the spell wearing off, if you just—”

I sighed harshly. “No it’s not, stop it. I like you a lot. You’re so cute and you give me butterflies and make me nervous and make me smile a lot and all I can think about is you all the time.”

“(Y/N)…” he started, eyebrows knit together.

“I’m not saying it because of the spell, okay?” I started rambling. “I mean, I always feel that way, but I didn’t want to say anything. You know, I was kind of scared. Now, it kinda seems like maybe you feel the same way, and I just want to know, otherwise this is gonna be really awkward when I’m not feeling all weird and giddy and I jus—”

Before I knew what was happening I felt his lips on mine. I felt shocked. I took a moment to gather my wits, but I seemed to take a moment too long. He pulled away.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to force that on you, I thought you wanted…” He trailed off, a hand going to rub at his face. I reached out, pulling it away from his face. He looked up at me, apprehensive.

“Trust me, I wanted it,” I confirmed before leaning back in as quickly as I could.

His hands moved up to settle at my waist as he smiled into the kiss. I held his jaw in my hands, pulling him in as closely as I could. I never wanted that kiss to end, but it had to soon, as we needed air. Our foreheads rested against each other.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” I whispered.

He laughed. “I’m just happy to know that Sam wasn’t the one doing it. Because you were so right, I was definitely jealous.”

“Knew it.” I giggled.

He hummed, pulling away from me. We looked at one another for a minute, taking it all in. I let my hand reach back up to his face, my thumb brushing against his cheek, looking at all the freckles that dusted his face.

I sighed, happy. “You wanna go again?”

He chuckled, a smile on his face. “Oh, for sure.”

I slapped the bed next to me, and he scrambled up, facing me. His arms immediately snaked around my middle, pulling me in tight. I held on to his neck, gazing up at him.

“You good?” He asked, a smile stuck on his face.

“More than.” I nodded, grinning.

He pressed his lips to mine, wasting no time. We stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying our time together and hoping it would never end. Until the door swung open.

“Whoa, walked in at the wrong time,” Sam exclaimed, closing the door as quickly as he shut it.

Dean and I looked at each other. He shrugged, “Whoops.”

I laughed, and he pulled me back in.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

#not me posting a supernatural fanfiction in the year of our Lord 2023 #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester one shot #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural #supernatural fic #spn fic

[screamforyani]

hello!! i wanted to say that i really love your writing!!

and i also wanted to share one of my thought about gf!ethan making you play the nastiest game ever, him threatening that if you don’t do what he wants (in a sexual way) he’ll kill one of your friend!

have a nice day!!🤍

ultimatum

warnings: noncon to dubcon, ghostface phonecall kinda, no original thoughts because i completely ripped this off from scream 5

wc. 1.6k

you hated being alone on friday nights, because you were always bored. 

usually, tara would have dragged you out to some party with her that sam could never know she went to, but she was busy with her boytoy tonight.

boring. or maybe it was because you were slightly jealous. at least one of us are getting some action tonight, you thought.

you grabbed your phone, deciding to text tara anyways. not that you thought she would respond. when chad was in the room with her, your best friend had a one-track mind.

you: i’m sooooooooo bored 

you: tell chadwick you have a very angry best friend who owns a plastic machete and a very heavy ceiling fan

you: i will unscrew the ceiling fan.

just as you put your phone down to get up and grab some yogurt, you heard it start to vibrate on your coffee table. you furrowed your brows. that was quick. chad must have been in the bathroom or something. 

you picked it up, answering lightheartedly, “tara, you monster. i can’t believe you left me all alone.”

“it’s not tara.”

you arched a brow. that voice was a hell of a lot deeper, definitely not your best friend’s snarky tone. “chad?”

the person on the other line chuckled. “wrong again. come on, try one more time.”

that was when the familiarity of the voice dawned on you. you’d seen a couple of stab movies before and those cliches were coming back to you. your heart raced a little faster, wondering if this was some prank, but chad and tara wouldn’t do that. “you’re the killer.”

“see, i knew you could do it,” said the killer on the phone, almost sounding excited. 

you were rooted in place, hissing, “what did you do with tara and chad?”

“oh, nothing. they’re fine. for now,” he said ominously, unnerving you completely. “but they won’t be if you don’t do what i want.”

“what do you want?” you asked, bringing the phone from your ear to put the call on speaker so that you could text sam. 

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you,” he warned.

you paused, glancing around. “you can fucking see me right now?”

“of course i can. those cameras in your living room aren’t doing you justice right now. i’m sure you look even better in person. whose t-shirt are you wearing? it’s a few sizes too big on you.”

your heart started to race and you glanced around, looking for a weapon. you weren’t safe. and neither were your friends. 

“what are you going to use, huh? that plastic machete? or are you going to unscrew the ceiling fan?” the killer teased. 

you snarled, “fuck you.”

ghostface said nothing while you walked out of the living room, but before your fingers could even brush the kitchen knife, your phone buzzed in your hand. it was a video outside of tara’s bedroom window, of her laying on chad’s chest. you gulped. 

“don’t they look so cute together?” ghostface asked with a chuckle, speaking again. “you have two options. it’s a simple choice, really. either do what i say or i’ll cut their fun short.”

you backed away from the knives, taking a huge breath while you re-entered the living room. this fucking asshole. you were at his mercy.

“smart choice!” he exclaimed. 

you grumbled, “what do you want me to do?”

“take off that shirt.”

you paralyzed at his request, not wanting to commit to it in the slightest. for fuck’s sake, this guy wanted you to give him a fucking strip tease? you weren’t an expert on these kinds of things, but you figured he had to be somebody that you knew. he could have just asked.

ghostface yawned, as if to say he was getting bored. “tick tock. i have a short attention span, you know. the thought of slicing open your friends is starting to get really enticing right now.”

you huffed in annoyance, throwing the goddamn shirt above your head. it was ethan’s. your friends spent a lot of time your place because you were the only one that lived alone. you snapped, “are you happy?”

“not yet,” he said darkly. “you see that stuffed animal by your television? pick it up. i want you to ride it.”

“you can’t be serious,” you grumbled to yourself, and when he didn’t say anything, you figured he hadn’t heard you. you grabbed the fucking stuffed animal you’d gotten for your birthday and mounted the toy, feeling a little awkward doing this while aware that you were being watched.

you eased into your movements, starting off slow, partially because it was a little humiliating. you weren’t wearing much under the shirt, only your panties. in fact, you weren’t even wearing a bra.

“fuck,” came the voice on the phone. “just like that.”

what made the situation even more mortifying was that you didn’t hate how it felt, grinding against the faux fur of the poor large teddy bear. you could feel your arousal starting to damp your underwear, sticking to your skin. you wanted to be disgusted with yourself.

“tell me how it feels.”

“feels… feels good,” you replied through ragged breaths, against your better judgment.

“yeah?” he hummed. 

“mm-hm,” you whispered, forgetting that you were supposed to be scared. 

all of the heat washed over you, fogging your brain as your hips found a rhythm. you were blindsided by pleasure, grinding your sticky cunt against the toy. you threw your head back in a moan, grabbing onto the toy while you increased your pace. 

it was shameful what you were doing, entertaining some freak behind a mask. but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. he was going to hurt my friends, was what you’d reminded yourself when the smoke cleared and your thoughts became rational again.

“stop,” he commanded, much to your chagrin. 

“no,” you whimpered. “please.”

ghostface laughed mockingly, but only for a second, before repeating a little harsher this time, “stop.”

you halted your actions, hating the aching throbbing between your legs. it was driving you crazy. you felt so soaked, so wet.

“good girl,” he whispered. “bend yourself over the arm of the couch.”

you were too aroused to make some snappy comment, doing as told. you were guessing he wanted a nice view to get off to. the imagination could only do so much.

that was when you heard a sound, but you didn’t have much time to react when he came out of nowhere and pressed himself behind you, bringing his hand to your mouth to muffle your scream. you felt him tug at your underwear and reached behind your back to stop him, which ultimately ended with your arms folded behind your back and your panties slipped to the side as he forced his big, hard cock into your wet cunt.

“so absorbed in pleasure you didn’t even hear me come in,” he said, but you quickly noticed that he spoke without the modulator. and you didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. 

you blurted, “ethan?”

“yeah, baby,” he moaned, slapping his hips against yours. “that’s what i want you to say when you cum all over my cock. shit, baby, you’re so wet.”

you shuddered when you felt his fingers coat themselves in your arousal, and you didn’t even realize that he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. it drove him mad with lust, to an extent he didn’t even know he was capable.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to be upset right now at your friend’s actions, too tangled in ecstasy and the way it felt as his cock slipped in and out of you with a wet sound, fucking you stupid. to say nothing of how touch-starved you were.

“ethan,” you stammered out again. “harder.”

“you want me to fuck you harder?” ethan asked, chucking in amazement. you were everything he could’ve dreamed of, and beyond. 

you bobbed your head. “please, i need it.”

“well, if you need it,” he teased, a lilt to his tone. 

it knocked the wind out of you when he slapped his hips into you harder, made you feel dizzy with how perfectly he felt inside you, stuffing you full. it was a lot, but you knew that you could take it.

this moment was straight out of a fantasy. you were bent over, crying out ethan’s name and begging him for more, like you just couldn’t get enough of him. to be frank, he couldn’t get enough of you either. you scratched something in his brain, made him go crazy. not to mention how you were pulsing around his dick, so tight and way better than his hands.

“nobody else can have you like this,” ethan groaned, fisting your hair into a ponytail behind you. “right?”

“nobody,” you stuttered, barely able to speak. you were on the brink of climax. 

“fuck,” ethan moaned. “cum for me, baby. you know you want to.”

that was basically all it took to finish you, the petname rolling off of his tongue so deliciously. just as you were instructed, you moaned ethan’s name when you came, feeling wrecked as pure hell. 

ethan came too, pulling out and cumming on your back much to your surprise. he slid off you after a moment or two, leaving you to drop onto the couch, exhausted. 

just moments later, your phone buzzed, and you grabbed it under ethan’s watchful gaze. it was a text from chad. 

chad: hey it’s tara

chad: i stole chad’s phone lol he’s in the shower

chad: so something kinda crazy happened… i like totally lost my phone. but i wanted to check up on you and make sure you didn’t die lol

you glanced back at ethan, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d been here, and watching his lips curl into a twisted grin. it was a wordless exchange.

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #scream 6 imagines

[monowires]

little vito infodump ‘cause i wanna share him with the world :D (info under the cut!)

BASIC INFO Name: Vito Rivera Class: Nomad Alias(es): V; was often called ‘Riv’ or ‘Vera’ when he was with the Bakkers but no longer goes by these aliases. Birthday: 12/12/2046 Pronouns: he/him Labels/Identity: Bisexual, Ambiamorous, Transgender Man

APPEARANCE Height: 5′10″ (177.8 cm) Eye Color: Light blue; I often compare them with the color of a cornflower. Hair Color: Black Physique: Slim and lanky, Vito can often be called small despite his height; his strength lies in his agility and reflexive response rather than sheer brute force. Tattoos: Vito has the Johnny + V tattoo on his right forearm; besides these he has a web of flowers and patterns across his back, chest, and shoulders (body tattoo #4 in the game). Scars: Vito only has one scar; the small ones he’s acquired over his lifetime were often cosmetically modified at his request. He has a rough, jagged scar that peeks out from his hairline just above his right eye. It follows the curvature of his skull and stops above his ear; most of this scar is hidden by his hair, though, as Viktor was able to effectively conceal the scar. He does, however, have cyberware in place of top surgery scars, shown in this very rough concept image.

ABILITIES Stats: Body 12 | Reflexes 20 | Technical Ability 18 | Intelligence 5 | Cool 16 Weapons: Prefers blades and handguns; most often uses Kerry’s Archangel, Johnny’s Malorian Arms 3516, and the knives Stinger and Headhunter. Despite his preference for smaller blades, he can wield machetes and katanas, too. He is also incredibly skilled with his monowire, though he tends to use it only in tight situations. Cyberware: Vito utilizes a Sandevistan Mk.5 to give himself an advantage in combat, Kiroshi Optics Mk.3 as his optical system, and a Ballistic Coprocessor. His supporting cyberware includes the following systems: Fortified Ankles (allows him to jump further/higher), Microrotors (increases his attack speed), Microvibration Generators (increases melee damage), and the Kerenzikov, which tunes his reflexes. Perhaps his most important piece of cyberware is the Monowire, which he utilizes as a backup weapon when necessary. He prefers this to the Mantis Blades as he fears that the blades would be easy to tear off/apart should he be overpowered; with the wire, he has relative peace of mind as the wire is generally too hot to grab directly.

PERSONALITY Traits: Anxious; daring; determined; embittered; empathetic; guarded; impulsive; persistent; powerful; reliable; restless; volatile. Fears: Being forgotten; death; inactivity; sudden loud noises; vulnerability; wide-open spaces. Overview: Vito tends to prove himself to be an enigmatic character. He is capable of befriending people while simultaneously revealing very little personal information about himself and his past. He is sort of an extreme in that he is very loyal to his friends (as long as they would provide the same loyalty to him) and conversely very brutal with his foes; he holds grudges vehemently and often does not rest until he feels his scores have been settled. He’s very open with himself and his sexuality, though knowing him on a romantic level is something that is incredibly difficult to do (so, it’s easier to be FWB with him than it is to take him on a date). TIDBITS • Vito is capable of playing Chippin’ In, Never Fade Away, and A Like Supreme on the guitar — he doesn’t actually know how to play guitar, but his brain retains this muscle memory even after Mikoshi.  • Similarly, he picks up a smoking habit due to Johnny. • He is an only child and lost his parents when he was about fifteen years old. • He was with the Bakkers from age sixteen (near seventeen) ‘til the start of Cyberpunk 2077 (age thirty). • Due to his inability to protect his parents and then his inability to protect Jackie, he doesn’t trust himself to take care of those he loves, so he keeps everyone at arms’ length. • He is autistic and will infodump given the chance. His favorite thing to talk about is his extensive collection of knives (but he can also debate things like gun firepower). • He loves to ride motorcycles more than anything! • He is a very weepy/emotional drunk; this goes for all emotions, though. Since he is already emotionally volatile (thanks to his inability to process his emotions), this only worsens when he’s drunk (so don’t piss him off if he’s hammered). • I have aphantasia alongside the inability to hear things in my head, so his ‘canon’ voice is that of Male V in the game. • His fingernails are painted black. • His favorite color is grey. • He can’t cook for shit. • Dude’s got a fat ass, the world’s best hips-to-waist ratio, and basically makes men and women (and everyone in between) simp for him BUT he is blissfully unaware of this and tends to react with awkwardness when hit on. • He has almost no romantic experience; this ties into his fear of being unable to protect his loved ones. He had something going with Jackie, but... we know how that ended.

#oc: vito rivera #cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #male v #male v cyberpunk #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk male v #oc sheet #sorta #infodump #johnny.txt #for the vito fuckers out there #if they exist

[skoulsons]

“oh baby girl”

this scene is so… I cannot watch it, any part of it, without getting choked up. Their story never fails to get me. Baby girl was a coined term. Sarah’s coined term. By him. His daughter. The most important person in his life. It was her nickname. And we only hear him say it once, but we know how special it is to the both of them. Probably called her it the second he held her for the first time. It holds weight and emotion and depth. That word is one of the last things he has as a connection to Sarah. Besides his watch or the cut on his nose.

And so here comes winter. He and Ellie are stuck with each other. I believe Fall and Joel taking Ellie back from Tommy above Jackson is *their* point. The point of Joel saying he’s going through with this completely and that, once they reach the fireflies, they aren’t going their separate ways. He’s going all in. He’s risking getting attached. He’s letting himself have this second chance at fatherhood.

And so they go through fall for and winter and Joel gets injured and Ellie meets David and Joel wakes up and…Ellie’s gone. Who even knows what he remembers. If the last thing was him getting stabbed through the abdomen with rebar, or if he had a moment in this old, cold house basement where he was aware. Either way, Ellie is gone. Maybe she’s out getting food or scrounging for supplies. Maybe she’s tending to Callus. Maybe she’s just sitting upstairs on a couch to be a little comfier. But, obviously, those are all shut down when Joel starts taking fire. And so he runs through this town, roughly stitched up, probably starving, thirsty, and hasn’t properly moved or stretched in who knows how long, trying to find Ellie. Because now, something’s happened to her.

And so he runs through this town and tortures and brutally kills men to find her. And eventually he finds her in a burning restaurant, kneeling over a man and hacking his face off with a machete. He runs over and pulls her off the man and tries to comfort her and Ellie immediately starts pushing him away (mini headcanon plug. Definitely believe prior to this, he’s comforted her with a hug. It just…I don’t know. Him repeating “it’s me” just gives me that feeling. Also the fact that my love language is physical touch and will find a way to say they hugged at x point in the game whenever I can bc I love hugs ☹️ also the fact that he just hugs her so easily and has his head against her head and how she just falls in to his shoulder and-). He desperately tries to get to get her to look at him and she’s using as much strength as she has left to push him away because she thinks he’s one of them. And so eventually he grabs her face and makes sure that she sees him. She sees who it is and knows that she’s safe. And immediately she collapses in to him and he brings her as close as he can.

He doesn��t know what happened. He doesn’t know why she was slicing this guy up with a machete, why she’s sobbing, why she’s fighting against him so hard, why there were so many men outside trying to keep Joel away. But he can guess. He did find meat ledgers and people (it was people right???) hanging upside down. He at least knew a little of what they were all about.

And so he calls her babygirl. That term that was Sarah exclusive? Ellie has become that now. That new daughter. That thing that kept him fighting. Is keeping him fighting. The person who gave him a second chance at fatherhood after it got cut so short. The most important person in his life now. All he knows right now is she’s hurting and scared. Something happened here. And while Joel would probably love to continue to beat this already very dead man to a place even further than death, she matters first. Their safety, her safety, matter more.

And when they get out, he’s gentler. More soft spoken. After closing herself off more due to trauma, he opens up more. Maybe to try and get her to open a bit and get her back to the spunky Ellie she used to be. Which is a bit of helpless hoping (get it) on his part, but he has to try. He tells her he’ll teach her guitar because it’s something he thinks she’ll like. A piece of dialogue I always found interesting is when she tells him about her dream about the plane crash. He says “why don’t you tell me about it?”(I think, could have that a bit wrong). Way earlier on in their trip, guarantee he would not have cared about this or what she had to say. But her talking about this dream could’ve been the most she talked in a week. Or more.

I totally forgot where I was going with this at ALL. It’s 2am when I’m writing this which means it’s joelellie depression hours which means USELESS rambling and overthinking their scenes and their relationship and everything about them because my hyperfixation over them won’t leave me alone and I’m nearly incapable of not thinking or talking or associating anything and everything with them. Props if anyone got through, this has been sitting in my drafts for 3 months and I didn’t check it at all so if it’s terrible grammatically, I apologize 😭

#i am sick in the head #what is it about fathers and daughters #WHY ARE THEY A DRUG #the last of us part 1 #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams

[boliv-jenta]

Joel Miller x f!reader

The Last of Us Magical Western AU, I guess.

The Watchtower

Part 1 | Part 2

Written for @misspearly1 Thank you for the help.

Warnings: smut, language, gore.

Dust swirled around you, disturbed by the heaviness of your landing. Whatever had grabbed you had pulled you up far enough for the top half of you to clear the rafter before dumping you on a small platform. Eyes gleamed in dark across from you. Viper. Named for the way their fangs hinged in their mouths. They remained pretty much human looking until they extended their jaws. It made the whole thing even more disturbing. Vines looked like monsters from the off. Vipers remained human in appearance until their grotesque transformed. A reminder of what could happen to you if one fed on you and you were unlucky. Not all bites made you one of them. Mainly they just drained you. Vipers were blood drinkers. Vines would eat you whole, bones and all. Wild Dogs like to split you open like over ripe fruit and feast on your insides. Each had their own strengths and weaknesses. Fire was the great equaliser between them all. Unfortunately, it wasn't all that great for humans too. It wasn't the best choice for close quarters. If you smashed in their brain in like a Walker, you better make sure you did a good job. As long as at least basic brain function remained they would attack on instinct. Decapitation worked best.

The sound of Joel's shotgun rang out followed by a heavy thud. One down but he had said 'Walkers' plural. A call of your name rang out. Throwing all your weight to the side, you managed to roll. One. Twice. Then you were dropping down to the floor. With the top of the stairs in sight you ran towards the sound of Joel's struggles. You made it two, three feet before the bastard grabbed you by your jacket, swiftly it tried to pull you up again. When it couldn't correct for the sudden change in weight it toppled backwards. Right over the rafter it was perched on, and down onto the floor below. It landed awkwardly on all fours, moving towards you with only a seconds recovery. Luckily, you had recovered too. The machete in your hand was well cared for. Despite it's years of use it was still sharp. The blade still gleamed in the streaks of moonlight. It arched through the air the fractured light giving the illusion of it cutting moonlight. Your technique made up for your proportional lack of strength to a certain extent.

Cleaving something's head from it's shoulders was oddly easy given the right tools. Most of the neck was made of flesh and cartilage, it was the bone that caused the most resistance. That's exactly where your blade got stuck.

The Viper turned it's head under your blade. It's amber gaze burning into you. The jaggered blade slitting the skin underneath. A grotesque line drew around it, peeling away flesh, spilling blood from it. It opened it jaws wide. Like it's name's sake when it opened it jaws wide, they were wide. It's chin touched the back of your hand on the hilt of your blade. It's spittle dripped over your hand. Fighting the revulsion, you pushed the blade harder. The thing had the gaul to push forward maybe it thought it could get to you before you could get through it's spine. The way your grip was slipping off the spit moistened blade, it right. Fuck it. Throwing your whole weight forward you slammed it into the banister behind it. The wood held long enough to shove the Viper's neck through your blade. It's head bounced down the stairs with a steady beat. Then the wood gave way. Both the Viper's body and your's tumbled down the stairs.

Pain shot through your shoulder as you slammed down on to the cold stone. Another shot rang out. Another thud. This one was just next to you. Turning your head you were met with one milky white eyeball looking at you. The other had been blown clean out, along with half his head. From what you could make out he was young when he died. What was left of his skin was smooth. He was slim built with narrow shoulder. The exact opposite of the Walker Joel was now wrestling with. He was huge. He tower over Joel. His arms were almost as wide as Joel's whole body. His massive stomach had Joel pinned back against the wall, while Joel pushed it's neck back with his shot gun. There was no way Joel could angle it to fire to the creature. He couldn't risk taking his hand off it to reach for his revolvers.

The sharp gnashing of it's teeth went through you. Searching the floor around you for your weapons, you came up empty handed. Well, you were never completely empty handed. Half running, half crawling you made your way to Joel. Dropping to your knees, you took a deep breath. This wasn't going to pleasant. Reaching out you grabbed the chucky ankle of the Walker. Memories flooded you. Happy times with a wife you never had. Holding your son for the first time. Both of them weeping as you grew weaker. The fear of not knowing what would happen once the illness over took you. The jarring memories were enough to distract the Walker while Joel wrenched his shotgun free just enough to get in a glancing shot. It caused the Walker to stumble, Joel seized the opening to take another shot at it's head. It's body hit he ground just after yours.

The Enlightened's power varied. By strength. By ability. Most of them involved controlling something rather than creating something from nothing. There were rumours that a few could create things as will. No one you knew had ever seen one. Mostly people controlled the elements. Regain control in a world gone mad was very appealing to some.

You knew of a few others like yourself that could hear thoughts. It wasn't widely know but it was the rarest of all gifts. The most sort after too, for obvious reasons. The Sickness had spread around the world. Once great nations were decimated. What better way to regain their power than to know what the enemy was thinking? A simple handshake could give them strategy insight. Another country's resources could become theirs overnight. It had it's downside though. Keeping other people's thoughts at bay took practice. Being around too many people could be overwhelming. Exerting your power could knock you out. Luckily, you had Joel to look after you while you recovered.

It had been so long since you'd had an actual bath. You were lucky that back home your mother worked in a hotel. They had a big copper tub that you were allowed to use when the guests didn't need it. You got to bathe way more often than some of your friends did. You often wondered if that's why you avoided The Sickness for so long. It was a luxury that you loved. The warm water soothing your tired muscles, relieving your aches. The steam making you feel deeply cleanse. Joel moved behind you. Trying to give him some room you moved to scoot forward.

"Hey. Where you going?" His large hand splayed over your stomach pulled you back to him.

"Nowhere. I was just giving you some space."

You felt his laughter before you heard it. "I've had plenty of space honey. Right now I just need you." Water spilt over the sides as he yanked you back against his broad chest.

"Joel!" You giggled. "You're making a mess!"

"Yeah, I'll clean it. Let me clean you first." He lathered up a wash rag begin to clean you starting with your arms. He ran the cloth up them in long strokes. He moved to your shoulders rubbing at the tension there. It didn't take him long to zero in on your breasts. Pruned fingers gently stroking the soft skin at the sides of them, his large palm coming underneath to feel the weight of them in his hand, kneeling them lightly as he did so. Your nipples had hardened due to his touch, he thumbed them roughly. Sending little shock to your core.

Abruptly, he move the cloth downwards, soaping up the skin of your soft belly before pushing down between your legs. The roughness of the material provided much need friction against your clit. "Joel!" You clawed at his thick forearms resting on the edge of the tub.

"What?" He fained innocence.

"You know damn well what!" You playfully splashed him.

"You need some extra cleaning down there? That filthy little pussy. Gets so wet for me all the times. Take every drop of me that I pump in there. Fuck, I wanna fill it now. Would you like that? Me fucking that tight little hole. Right here where anyone could hear you scream?" Part of you swore that man could make you come from his words alone. Between his dirty mouth, his evident excitement pressed into your lower back and his hand still pressed between your legs, your heart rate was through the roof. Your breath was fast and shallow. He was right. If he made you scream, people could hear. The hotel was busy outside. Maude was probably just down the hall she'd tell your mother. No, that was wrong. She wasn't here. Gone. You weren't here.

Waking with a start, you tired to calm yourself. Joel lay across from you looking similarly affected.

"We better get moving. You were out for a while. I carried you as far as I could." That explained why you had dreamt of him. You really needed to get a handle on these dreams. Navigating this world was hard enough. Avoiding the dangers. The creatures that wanted to eat you. The people who would kill you to help themselves to your supplies. Worse, people who wanted your gift and would enslave you for it. Relying on others who were just as lost and fucked as you were was your only hope. Having someone to partner with in this world should make things easier. In some ways it did. In others it confused things more, letting your guard down made you more vulnerable. Especially when it came to your power. These dreams, so vivid, fuelled by your desire for one another, were a problem. After them Joel would become less focused. Only a little, he was still Joel Miller. Still strong and determined. Although being even a little unfocused could get you both killed.

In your dreams your power meant Joel knew every inch of you, he'd tasted your skin, your release. You had been as intimate with him as possible. In your waking life it only served to drive him away. As you walked behind him you tired your best to bury now much that bothered you.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller au

[slasher-male-wife]

Jason Voorhees x gn reader

Happy Friday the 13th everyone. I made a little Jason fic for everyone to enjoy on this fun day. I already do a movie night on Fridays but today’s is gonna be even more special. Anyway enough of that, here’s some fluff with our boy Jason

Today is Jasons birthday. He's turning (according to your knowledge) 23 this year. You decided to make him a chocolate cake since he seems in love with chocolate. He never grew up around much sweets so it makes sense that the would wanna eat the stuff now. You sent him off into the woods so you can surprise him with a cake. You've baked before in the past and you were ok at it. You had help from family or friends who were much better at it than you are. You bought at the ingredients and now you're gonna get to work on it. You're using an old baking book your great grandma used when she baked. She always made the best cakes and cookies when you visited so you trust this. "Ok cream together the melted butter and sugar." You pour the melted butter into the sugar and mix it together. You follow the rest of the instructions as they go. "Now the milk." You measure out the milk and pour it in. Mixing it together you get the batter consistency you need. You're gonna stack it together a few together cakes and ice it. You pour out the batter in the pans and put them in the oven. You get to work on the icing next.

Once you get it done you put it in the fridge to let it set. You take out the cakes and let them cool off. In the mean time you get your house ready for the celebration. You and Jason live in a little cottage in the woods together. Well you're the one who bought it and you're listed at the only one who lives there. You've got a good job and are going steady in life. You got him a few gifts that you surprisingly kept hidden from him. Jason's good at finding things. Any time you lose something you ask him and he finds it in like five minutes. You got him some small hunting knives, a bow and arrows, a couple new jackets, a new pair of boots because his current pair is falling apart and some sea shells. He's been fascinated by the pictures and stories you tell him about the ocean. He's never seen it before but you know he would love it. You wanted to give him a little piece of the ocean.

You set the gifts down on your table and get to work on the cake again. You start stacking them with icing working as a glue. You start icing the sides when you pushed a bit too hard and made the cake topple over.

"Shit shit come on." You try to save the cake and you stack it on top again this time with small dents. You ice over it again and smile. It's looking good. You grab a little bag of darker icing and write out

Happy birthday Jason, I love you

You smile at the decent handwriting. You put the cake on the table and get out a few plates and forks. You grab a knife and some candles too. You start putting them in the cake then the back door opens. Jason walks into the kitchen machete in hand. He was nice enough to clean in. You turn around and hold out your arms. "Happy birthday Jason!" You step aside and let him see the cake and the presents. He tilts his head and sets his weapon down. He walks over and looks down at the cake. You're waiting with anticipation for his reaction. He turns to you and signs

Very sweet thank you

You smile and light the candles. "Ok so you think of a wish and blow out the candles." Jason thinks for a minute. He lifts up his mask a bit and blows out the candles. You clap and take them out. "I'm glad you're enjoying this. Let's eat some cake and then you can open your gifts. He nods and sits down. You take the knife and cut two pieces, making sure to make Jasons bigger. You two eat the cake in silence. It's moist and fluffy. Not too sweet but still tasting good. Once you two are done you move the cake out of the way and let Jason grab a box. He lifts it and looks at it from all angles. It's wrapped in a dark green wrapping paper you know Jason would like. "You're supposed to tear away the wrapping paper Jason. That's how to get to the gift." He looks at you then looks back at the box. He starts to rip open the paper and exposes a small set of hunting knives. He opens the box with ease. He pulls them out one by one and examines them. He seems pleased. He opens the next one. The bow and arrows. He looks at the box and looks at you. He sets it down and signs

Very nice Thank you

"You're very welcome Jason. Now open your next one." He grabs the shoe box and tears off the wrapping paper. He opens the box and looks at the new boots. You made sure to get military grade ones. They were expensive but you needed to get Jason new shoes. "Go ahead, put them on." You say. Jason takes off his old boots and puts on his new ones. He stands up and walks around a bit.

Need little work to make better

He signs. You nod and he sits back down. He grabs the jackets and seems pleased with them. He tried a few on and set them back down. He picks up the last box and opens it. He stares at the shells and picks one up. "They're sea shells Jason. I told you about them remember? They're things you find on the shore of the ocean. I wanted to bring the beach to you." He stares at them a bit more. Examining the shells, accidentally breaking one in the process. After five minutes of his mmmmmmmmm staring at the shells he stands up. He walks over to you and hugs you. He actually picks you up a bit and just holds you in a hug. You smile and rest your head on his chest. He doesn't often give physical affection. He usually just brings you small gifts he finds or cooks for you. This must have been a special birthday for him to get this hug.

Thank you love them

He signs after he stopped hugging you. You smile. "You're very welcome Jason. You're very welcome."

#jason vorhees #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the thirteenth #slasher #Slashers #slasher x reader

[chrissylives929]

Uhh howdy I’ve never used Tumblr before but I’m giving it a shot- as my first post, I give you my first ever attempt at writing a story… Critiques are appreciated

“Crimson”

“It happened on a Monday night,” he said, “I was only home for maybe an hour, it was a long day, a lot of exams, I was so ready for this year to end. Didn’t realize how easy we had it…”

“It was almost midnight when I heard my sister scream, she was so easily startled,” he laughed. “There was one time the dog jumped on her bed in the middle of the night, I swear, she probably woke up the whole neighborhood, good times.” His voice grew weaker. “I miss her.” He said, tears growing in his eyes.

“I grabbed my little slingshot, expecting some rat or spider was what scared her, the house wasn’t the cleanest, always had a pest problem. Anyway, I quietly strode over to her room, making sure not to scare whatever came out back to its den. I got to the room and saw some kind of red liquid staining the carpet under the door, thought it was Kool-Aid… thought she had the last packet and wasn’t going to share. Assumed she dropped it when she got scared.”

“The door slowly opened, and out stepped Cait. Her white pajamas were slightly torn and heavily stained. I could see her neck was kind of crooked, as if her spine was trying to escape through the side. I yelled at her for potentially waking up our mom, who had gotten home just before I did. All I got in response was silence. She just looked at me. And that’s when I noticed her eyes were gone, in their place was just a dark, blood-like crimson ball, slowly rippling. I stepped back in horror, looking at her once again from afar. I saw now that her shirt wasn’t simply torn, there was a softball sized hole in her chest.”

“Once I realized what had happened, it was too late. What looked like a tentacle shot out of her chest in my direction. I jumped out of the way, only to tumble down the stairs. I didn’t hit anything important, thankfully, i got up, ran to the pantry to grab a bag and some supplies. I knew I wouldn’t be able to come back here, at least, not for a while, so I grabbed everything I could carry and left. When I got outside I saw a red blob slowly rolling up the side of my house towards my mom’s room… I wish I could've saved her.”

He cuts his story short at the sound of rustling in the bushes. The young man jumps over the campfire and runs behind me. I stand in front of and plant myself to the ground, ready to protect him as if he were my own child, even though I’ve only known him for a couple days. I stand at the ready with my machete in one hand, and a smoldering stick in the other. I wonder to myself what kind of horror I’m about to see, and to be honest, I wasn’t disappointed. The head was a deer’s with antlers made of severed human arms, each twitching in their own sporadic pattern. The head was halfway rotten, but the hands have no sign of decay, almost like some disgusting, flesh trophy. My eyes gaze down, beholding the rest of this godforsaken creature. The body is made up of a human torso linked to the withers of a stallion, both with holes where the hearts used to be, and the hindquarters of a goat with the tail chopped off. A mismatch of moose, bear, and horse legs hold up the revolting thing in front of us. Taking what little time I have before it attacks, I can guess it’s been searching for a new husk for a while. Damn. Just my luck. These… things, invade whatever living thing is around and take what they need as a vessel. Judging by what the kid said about his sister, I’m willing to bet “Cait’s” head is somewhere on a Hog’s body or something. Not that it would change much, the boy was relentless on those descriptions.

The monster stares down at us, huffs, and lets out a shriek that, as far as I know, doesn’t naturally come from deer. How do i even describe this? It doesn’t even make any sense. The scratch was like every donor cried at once, hoping for the salvation of death. Two spear-like tentacles shoot out each of the eye sockets of the buck, coming straight at me. I throw the kid out of the way, step back, and strike the bloody blurs with my burnt branch, causing them to shatter like glass. The beast screams out in pain, and rather than using another tendril to strike, it jumps towards us. I kick it in the “chest” and it fell into the fire, sadly it grabbed my shirt with its antlers and ripped part of it off. That was my favorite shirt. Come to think of it, that was my only shirt.

“I’m gonna kill this goddamn thing, don’t you dare stop me, kid,” I snap at him.

“Yes sir.” He sheepishly responds.

Just as I turn around, another red spear rushes towards me. I jump back just in the nick of time as it lodges itself into the ground, only inches in front of me. In a state of what I can only describe of blind rage, stupidity, and vengeance for my shirt, I throw my machete into the fire, leaving it to cook, and start a full-on assault against this ugly beast. It had already gotten back up and started to burn, letting out another terrifying screech. I’m pretty sure its goal is to make me deaf, ‘cause all I hear is ringing, but I’m a man on a mission, and a little tinnitus ain’t gonna stop me. The beast lunges towards me. I step back and grab my machete from the fire, which, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t necessary for me to shove it in there like that, y’know, because hot metal + skin = big ouchie, at least I got a cool scar now… still… yeowch.

As the monster comes towards me for another strike, I slice the human torso in half, causing the upper part to tumble down and hit the dirt. The moment it hit the ground, the arms, deer head, and torso started to solidify into rock. That half of the monster is dead, even down to the original form, horse half’s still up and at it though.

Good news, it’s blinded since I removed the head. Bad news, it’s in a blind rage kicking around… blindly. I grabbed another smoldering stick, which, in my professional opinion, hurt like shit, and looked for an opening. Once I saw it, I leapt onto the back of the horse, honestly I’m surprised the rotting corpse didn’t crumble under my weight. I clamped my legs around it’s body, I took the stick and shoved it into the open hole, burning the parasite inside. I got off it as quickly as I had gotten on, tumbling as I hit the ground.

#writing #horror #short story #first post #not a boomer just an out of touch gen z

[saviourfinn]

I bought what was supposed to be 100% pure coconut water but this is disgusting, it doesn't taste like fresh coconut water at all... I don't why I expected a bottled product that travelled across countries to taste the same as when I drank directly from fresh coconuts...

#Oh I miss going to the beach in Cameroon... With guys who sell coconuts fresh from the tree... #They would grab one and cut it open with a machete and give it to you... So fresh and tasty

[oleandernodeath]

First Time

Lawrence’s first exploration with murder was the most pleasurable experience of his life. Though... what he does with the cadaver after is almost as satisfying. 

CW: necrophilia, decay, gore, general rot and gross warning

⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖⁖

The forest is dark, rising around him like the softest of burial pods, the scent of mushrooms and death permeating the cold air. Lawrence trudges through two-day-old snow, encasing his legs with every step forthwith to be wrenched from winter’s grasp.  Goal driven; Lawrence walks to the special place of rest for his lover. The first, the only, the one he was sure would be the last. Desire overcame him though, to see if the snow had preserved him. Like the roadkill deer I saved the skull from, he muses.

Lawrence had met him at a bar. He was so beautiful, Cymbidium skin and shining green eyes. He spoke like music. Screamed like it too. Lawrence shudders at the blissful memory. How the man found his flowers beautiful. How lovely his hands were tied together with duct tape. How gorgeous the Cymbidium looked as life spurted from his throat.

He’s here. Just as he left him almost. His face is purpled and blued at the mouth, eyes, and lips. His wound is peeling back, the skin sloughing. His extremities are black and purple. His once caramel skin is webbed purple and red.

He’s… beautiful. Like art. Lawrence lets out a shaky breath, not even leaving a puff in the air due to his own coldness. He’s just like me, Lawrence realizes. He really is just like me.

Death, in pure form like this, is nearly as gorgeous as the twinkling, endless sky of the River. He gets down on hand and knee beside the frozen, naked corpse. Closer now, Lawrence can see that his eyes have been eaten by bugs, and his nose and penis have been chewed off by a starving animal. He runs his hands along the inside of the nasal cavity. Black rotted skin flakes off on his fingers. His eyes widen and his breath heavies. It’s so beautiful.

Lawrence feels a rush of warmth, and starts backward into the snow as he realizes he’s become hard. “No, no, no,” he whispers to himself, eyes darting from the body to his body and back again. He sits in the snow, takes a few breaths, before curiosity overtakes him once again. I want to see inside, he thinks, moving for the knife in his pocket.

He pulls out a thick, powerful machete that he had bought just this night. Leaning to the body again, crawling towards it like dying creatures of carrion. He presses the knife into the cadaver’s stomach, just above the bellybutton. He slices.

Filth pours out, steaming in the snow. Putrid green and brown corpse fluids leak along the ice crystals. Lawrence’s eyes light up in… something. An emotion he cannot process. But his body can, and he is harder now, breathing heavily. The skin is split open and rotted, frozen organs begin to slide out through their weakening membranes.

It’s too much, too much sensation. Too much excitement and joy and lust all at once. Lawrence, red-faced, grabs at the body and rolls it onto its stomach. It’s limp, he finds to his surprise, unbeknownst to him cold stops rigor mortis from setting in. Lawrence stares at the bare ass in front of him, passion suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment. He’s never… I-I mean how could he… he’s never even…. living people!

He takes a deep breath of Urtica dioica winter’s air. He teases a curious finger against the body’s exposed, relaxed hole. It sucks up his finger readily. “W…whore…” Lawrence tries. It feels wrong on his tongue, so he decides against using it further. He presses two fingers in.

Three.

Four.

His whole hand in inside it. That easily. It is cold. Freezing. The skin is loose but stiff, hardly giving him any resistance. He shudders out a breath, precum leaking against his sweatpants. I want to live inside it. I want to rip it open from the inside. I want to cut pieces off and keep them for the rest of my life. I want… to defile it. 

Lawrence wants it, so he does it. His thoughts tend to simplify like that when he’s turned on. In the winter air, biting at his skin, Lawrence pulls down his sweatpants, leaking, leaking, like blood from a papercut, white and translucent like the ice around him. Eyes wild, Lawrence gets closer. He grinds against the cold skin of the body’s ass, panting. A whine slips past his lips, he is too far gone to notice. More, more, need more. His mind aches, craves, and for once he knows what the flies and maggots feel when they smell him.

He enters it. He slides himself into the cold, rotten flesh. Necrophile, pathetic, disgusting, his thoughts screech at him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care anymore. What does give him pause is that, well, he hasn’t the faintest clue what he’s doing. For a moment, he just lays against the body, stroking the frostbitten fingers, feeling. The flesh around his cock is cold, yet warm, slightly wet, loose around him but it’s enough. It’s enough.

He lifts his hips, and drops them. A shiver runs up his spine at the delicious squishing sound of fluid moving and squelching out of the hole in its gut. He makes pace, thrusting with ironic gentleness. Lawrence shuts his eyes, panting. He whimpers, the feeling of flesh is so gratifying around him. The give, the tug, the cold, the fluids, it all feels… perfect.

 ⁖⁖

A half hour later, having had his way and had his fun, Lawrence rushes away from the body, now covered by rocks and sticks and more snow. He tries not to be sad he had to leave the beautiful, sensual decay alone for another day or two. Afterall, he does plan to come back. Again, and again, and again, til there is nothing but bones in the damp earth.

Til there is nothing but bones.

#lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death lawrence #btd lawrence #btd lawrence oleander #btd fanfic #btd fanfiction #boyfriend to death fanfic #boyfriend to death 2 #boyfriend to death fanfiction #'necrophilia' #'necrophilism' #my writing

[butwhyduh]

Scared?

Jason todd x reader

Warnings: weapons, hint of sex

Summary: He shows off his scary equipment to see if you scare off. I write this months ago and never posted it. Idk y.

It was the third time that week that you sat in his room watching tv. Jay sat on the floor with some kind of equipment in his lap, tinkering as the show played. You sat on the bed with your back against the headboard wrapped in his blanket. Your fingers played in his slightly damp hair. He smelled like fresh shampoo and soaps.

“I don’t want to kick you out but after this is over I’ve got stuff to do,” he said before trying to change the subject. You looked at him suspiciously. He was never vague with his plans.

“What stuff?” You asked. He sat up a little straighter.

“Secret stuff. Vigilante stuff,” he said while twisting the equipment shut. It made a mechanical whirl noise before a red light came on. “Suck on that Tim. I didn’t need his help,” Jason said proud of himself.

“What is that?” You asked looking at the thing with no discernible obvious use.

“Scary secret spy stuff that I fixed without a computer.” He had a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“So if I grab it you would freak out?” You said grabbing towards him. He quickly slipped out of your grip.

“Only if you wanted to blow the door off the wall,” Jay said twisting until the red light went off.

“Seriously?” You asked, with your eyes wide.

“No. But there is shit that you wouldn’t believe. But I can’t really show you. Hell, half the stuff in my pocket,” he laughed. “It’s just a tracer.”

“Shit I thought I was trying to grab a bomb for a second. Wait... what’s in your pocket?” You asked. He was standing and putting it in a bag. Jay stood a little stiffer.

“You already know what’s in my pocket. At least buy me dinner first.” He was deflecting. His joke didn’t make it to his eyes.

“No seriously. Show me your stuff. I want to see what crazy stuff you use at work,” you said also standing up. You got close to him, conveniently in front of the door. He tried to pull away but you grab his wrists. “I’ll thank you later.” You slid your thumbs up his forearms suggestively.

“Not even close,” he said plainly. He looked almost cagey but sometimes he just got that way.

“Baby,” you whined. “Show me.”

“No,” he said with a little different tone. He sounded almost annoyed. “You should probably get going now.”

“What the hell, Todd?” You said dropping his hands. “No. I’m not leaving. I’m tired of you being all secretive and shit. Are you 2 different vigilantes? Are you also a villain? Alien? What could you also be hiding beside Red Hood?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said stonily. You glared at him.

“That’s the fucking point. Tell me. Show me,” you said mad at this point. You had stepped into his space.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Jason said back slowly and deliberately, stepping right next to you. “It’s scary shit. I don’t-“

“You don’t what? For fuck sake. Just. Tell. Me,” you said almost mad enough to shove him but you held back. He loomed over you. You glared up at him.

“What if it scares you?”

“I’m not scared of looking at guns-“

“No, me. I use them. They are mine. They are part of me,” he said. It finally clicked. He had never cleaned his guns in front of you. Dick and Tim sometimes cleaned their weapons over breakfast when you visited. Jason was hiding it from you.

“Show me. I’m not scared of you,” you said softer. He stared at you for a minute before barely nodding. Jason dragged you down to the basement and pulled open a large panel on the wall. In it was a wide array of weapons nestled in black velvet covered foam.

“This is what I work with,” he said without taking his eyes off of you. You looked at all of the knives and guns and other things you didn’t even know.

“Can I touch them?” You asked him, interested. Your fingers already ran along the black velvet.

“Carefully,” he said. Jay stood close as you picked up a straight silver bladed, flat black handled knife. The curve of the handle was just a little too long for your hand but you liked the way it shined in the light as you turned it.

“That’s a 7 inch fighting utility knife, custom made for my hands,” he said. “It’s nice. Not my favorite.” You nodded and sat it down. You slid your fingers along the side of a hand gun, too scared to pick it up. “Pick it up if you want,” he suggested.

You grasped the gun. It was heavier than it looked. The sliver metal gleamed in the light. You kept your fingers fat from the trigger.

“It’s not loaded but you don’t want to make the habit of holding the trigger anyways,” Jason said sliding his hands around yours to show you how to hold it. You could feel his breath by your ear and your skin tingled. “You aim at something. Like the picture on the wall. And only once you know it’s perfect with no issues like wind, you move your finger to the trigger,” he said moving your finger to the trigger. You gulped nervously. “Breath out and pull the trigger,” he said before pushing your finger on the trigger. You jumped at the clicking noise. Jason laughed. He took it from you and sat it down.

“Am I scary now?”

“What is this?” You asked holding out a weird black knife. The blade was fatter at the end with a roundness that made it unique. You picked it up.

“Ka-bar combat Kukri knife. It’s kind of like a machete. Watch how you hold it,” he warned. You laid it back down.

“What’s your favorite?” You asked.

“This knife here,” he held up a nasty looking curved knife with a blade that just looked sharp. He made a few moves with it expertly. “Cuts right through Kevlar. Also really easy to cut yourself with it if you aren’t careful so I wouldn’t touch that. And these two guns are what I carry everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” You asked.

“Yeah. Any time I leave,” he said with a shrug handing you one. Silver metal hand gun that was a little bigger than the one you held and heavier.

“Like dates and stuff?” You asked.

“Always.”

“Okay I have undressed you and not found guns,” you said confused, thinking about all the times you’ve had sex in his car and he was wearing two loaded guns.

“Ankle, baby,” he said with a smile.

“But we... you were wearing this gun while we had sex?” You asked a little shocked. He laughed.

“Yeah, it was hot as fuck,” he said, putting the gun down and pulling you into a kiss. You broke the kiss.

“What about other stuff? I’ve seen bigger guns,” you said feeling shy.

“Seriously? Okay here,” he said pushing a button and the wall opened to show a wall of large guns. “These are mine. But I borough any other I need for a job. I wouldn’t really touch them.”

“Yeah,” you said taking a closer look. “What’s in your pockets?”

“Uh okay. Here,” he said pulling things out and putting them on a table. Gum, keys, a phone, a pocket knife, and a black block shaped thing. “That’s a taser.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. I felt pretty safe hanging out with my girlfriend. Unless you’re trying to kill me?” He joked.

“That’s the whole point of this. Be surrounded by your weapons and then kill you. Great plan,” you laughed pulling him close. He wrapped his arms around you in a hug but you chose to pat his pocket. You pulled a wallet from his back pocket. “Hiding things from me?”

“Yeah. Frozen yogurt coupons, a fake ID, and maybe twenty bucks. I feel so bad,” he said, looking at the ground in mock shame. “If I was hiding something you would never find it, baby. Trust me.”

“Not a confidence builder but okay,” you said with a laugh. He rolled his eyes.

“Nothing important. Now, the big question is, did I scare you off?” He asked losing the smile.

“Nope. Not a single chance. Second big question, why does a 25 year old man need a fake ID?” You asked.

“Well, I’m kinda legally dead and they don’t feel like giving driver’s license to dead people,” Jason said with a shrug but you could see that he relaxed.

“Ahh right. My zombie boyfriend. Now, this is a one time offer,” you said in a little huskier voice. You looked him over suggestively. Jason looked at you pleasantly intrigued. “What do you think about bending me over one of these weapon cases?”

“Fucking perfect idea,” Jason said with a wicked smile. He snatched you up causing you to yelp as he carried you to a case.

#jason todd x reader #fns #red hood x reader

[ohworm-writes]

Worm?! lol. Hiii, I’m new here. Could I please request some head canons for sniper mask (from high rise invasion) with a (preferably) male s/o? (As long as you’re comfortable with it.) I haven’t found any for males sadly. Hope you have a good day! Thanks sm.

Tenkuu Shinpan/High-Rise Invasion: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Scenario

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Sniper Mask Relationship Headcanons with a Male S/o ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise, Kuon Shinzaki

Warnings: gun mention, violence mention, cursing, blood mention

a/n - i wanted to add a lot of detail since you said there weren't any male readers, so i apologize that it took so long. i also have another sniper mask scenario that should come out soon! enjoy!

content below the cut!

coming to the high rise world was VERY unexpected for you

one second you're about to take a nap, right at the brink of sleep

the BOOM

you're on top of a building!

oh yeah, and there are murderers in masks right on your tail

not the afternoon you wanted, but it was the afternoon you got

you had been running from several masks, three of them right on your tail

you had been backed up near the edge of a building, the three of them circling yours you sat against the ground

when one of them slumped to the ground, dead

at first, you were confused, did he pass out maybe?

but then you saw blood and the other two dropping to the ground

no, yeah, they were all dead

you looked around for who could have done it

only to be met with another mask, a rifle at his side

you would have thought you were going to die if it weren't for the 3 girls by his side

why were 3 high school girls with one of the same kind of people that had tried to murder you?????

"Oh my god! Are you okay, sir?" A dark-haired girl ran forward and knelt down in front of you. You backed away from her, fear still coursing through you.

Your eyes landed on the masked man a few feet behind them, pointing a shaky finger towards him. "You! Why aren't you hurting us?" He stood up straight as all attention went to him, stuttering as the girl in front of you offered you a small smile.

"He won't hurt you, he'll only kill other masks, I promise!" You we're still skeptical of the group but decided it would be better than being stuck out here all alone. Silently, you took the girl's hand, letting her introduce you to the others.

When you were set in front of the masked man, he awkwardly gave his hand out for you to shake. "And this is Sniper Mask! He's scary, but-but, nice? Yeah, nice!" Yuri said, obviously unsure of her own words.

He extended his hand out for you to shake, and though you couldn't tell it, he was nervous beyond belief. He had just saved an extremely attractive guy and now he was no more than 2 feet in front of him!

"H-hey." Well, he fucked that up. You sighed, letting your shoulders slump as you took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Y/n, thanks for saving me Mr. Sniper Mask." You offered him a smile, to which his face instantly flushed, responding with nothing but a nod.

and that's where it began

at first, it was quiet between you and mr. mask

he didn't seem to make any moves to talk to you

hell, he didn't even seem to like being in the same room as you!

at least, that's from your perspective

from the other team, however...

"Kuon I-I don't. The command must of-" "Mr. Mask! You like Y/n! It's not the command, you do!" Kuon had been pestering Yuka for the past 30 minutes about her new idea. Obviously, it was nothing near the truth. It had to be the command malfunctioning.

"Admit it Mr. Mask! You're always looking at him and are fidgety whenever he's nearby!" Yuka sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as a blush crawled up onto his face. "Kuon it's not that I can assure you, I don't-" "If you won't admit it, I'm going to tell him!"

With that, Kuon dashed out of the room to find you. It took Yuka a few seconds to realize what the girl meant before he came barreling down the hall after her. "Kuon! Wait-"

Kuon didn't end up actually telling you that Sniper Mask liked you per se

but she didddd say that he wanted to talk with you more

and when he came up to the two of you, he apologized profusely for Kuon's behavior and dragged her off

but, the ordeal did help him to realize that no, this wasn't the mask's doing

he did actually like you

and little did he know that the feeling was mutual!

oh good gods you fell for him quick

you didn't even know why you liked him, but dear gods you did

you were terrified to confess to him

he barely ever shows emotion, so what are the chances he would show them to you?

well, it took him a while to confess to you, and only after you got injured by a mask did he spill

you had gone out with Mayuko to go find some supplies when a mask holding a machete came running at you two

it had cut your arm pretty bad, but you would live

Mayuko helped you wrap it up with some gauze she had found

when the two of you got back, the others (excluding Sniper Mask at the time) were all over you

you assured them that you could patch up your own wound, so you made your way back to your own room

expecting to be alone, you were surprised when Sniper Mask stopped you right outside your room's door

You held your injured arm close to your stomach, groaning as a sharp pain went through it. Your room was just around the corner, and once you were inside you could patch it up and go to sleep. At least, that's what the plan was originally.

What you didn't expect was the silent being of Sniper Mask to be laying against the door, his head shooting up as he heard footsteps. He turned his head towards you, eyes shifting from yours to your arm, and back to you.

"What happened." He said, but it came out in a much deeper tone than you had anticipated. A small blush found its way onto your face, your words catching in your throat as he leaned off of the door, making his way closer to you.

He was only a foot away, your breath hitched as his hand came towards you. He paused for a second, looking back at you, before grabbing your uninsured hand in his gloved one. Despite the fabric, his hands still radiated heat.

"I'm fine." You stated, but it didn't seem to do anything as he dragged you down the hall and up a flight of stairs. You were going to ask where he was taking you, when he grabbed one of the door handles, twisting it open and leading you inside.

There was nothing particularly special about his room, besides the rifle on his bed, of course. He let go of your hand the second the two of you were in the room, pausing a second after, before going to get a first aid kid.

You sat down on his bed, leaving the rifle alone. Unconsciously, your hands intertwined themselves together, trying to recreate the warmth he did just a few seconds ago. When he came back over, he was quick to take off your makeshift bandages and wipe the wound down.

You hissed in pain, grabbing one of his hands in the process and squeezing it to try and relive it. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze of its own, quickly sanitizing it and dressing it with fresh bandages.

When he was done, you tried to let his hand go, but he squeezed it harder. You heard him let out a sigh, his face turning upwards as he looked at you. You couldn't see his eyes, but he was lost in yours.

Without thinking, he inched the bottom of his mask upwards with his free hand, just enough to reveal his mouth. Your heartbeat picked up, eyes widening as they flickered down to his lips.

In a second the lips you were staring at were pressed against your own. His lips were warm, the taste of coffee lingering from them. When he pulled away, you did nothing but look at him with adoration.

You cupped his face with one of your hands, your smile growing as he leans into the touch. "Y'know," he started, bringing his hand up to hold yours. "I've been meaning to ask you to become my boyfriend for a while."

"Is that so?" You asked him, earning a hum and a shrug in response. "Now seemed like a good time to ask." You chuckled softly at him, watching a smile form on his lips. "My answer is yes then, Sniper Mask."

it was hard to keep your relationship a secret from the girls

Kuon was glued to Yuma's side almost 24/7, so she caught on first

then it was a domino effect

the three of them were extremely happy for you two

they do tease you both from time to time though

Kuon is especially happy about the relationship

sure, she has a crush on Yuka, but she's happy to see the two of you together

he's very wary about it all at first

his group has been attacked before, and not to mention other masks that could hurt you

yes, he's a strong badass who could protect you no matter what

but it doesn't make him worry any less!

any time foreign masks come near, you better bet your ass they're gonna have a bullet hole (or two) in them

he loves to show off that you're his and vice versa

refers to you as "his boyfriend" a lot

also likes to say "i'm his boyfriend"

absolutely swoons if you call him "yours"

peppers your face with kisses any time he can

just giving you lots of kisses in general

likes to have you by his side most times

he always needs to make sure you're safe

you basically have your own bodyguard

usually sleeps with you on his chest and his arms wrapped around you

then again, he won't turn down being the little spoon~

genuinely fucking loves you and wants to make you know every second he can

#sniper mask #sniper mask x reader #tenkuu shinpan #tenkuu shinpan x reader #high rise invasion #high rise invasion x reader #tenkuu shinpan headcanons #high rise invasion headcanons #yuka makoto #yuka makoto x reader #headcannons #x reader #anime x reader #request #worm answers #yuka makoto x male!reader #yuka makoto x male reader #male reader #male!reader #high rise invasion x male reader #high rise invasion x male!reader #tenkuu shinpan x male reader #tenkuu shinpan x male!reader #sniper mask x male reader #sniper mask x male!reader #anime x male reader #anime x male!reader

[walkerwords]

“Lookin’ Out For Her” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: MTV/AMC

Request from Anonymous: Hello! I loved Walker Words, it was so well written! Could I request a Daryl x reader where the reader gets hurt and Daryl is the one to patch her up? Give her stitches and bandage her up and the like. If you wanted to keep going and have him take care of her and help her with everyday things while she heals that would be super sweet. Just craving some super fluffy care! Thank you!! Xoxo

Word Count: 4516

Warning: Swearing, Injury, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Is This Love" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Note: And we are BACK. Thank you for requesting this!

---------

The Virginian sun was beating down on everyone’s necks as you worked in the lumber yard just outside of Alexandria.

Abraham had recruited you to help the Alexandrians build up their community. You didn't think it was that important but you said "yes" nonetheless. You had been travelling with your group for a while now. Meeting them on the road, Carl, Rick’s son, had saved you from a Walker that had pinned you to the ground. According to the young man, they had just lost their farm to a horde and were looking for a new place to stay. 

It was then that you noticed his pregnant mother and wanted to help. 

You hadn’t wanted to be near other people since the beginning of the end, but you had a good feeling about the Grimes family and their people. You were with them when Rick discovered the prison and you hadn’t looked back.

While you were close with Rick, Carl, Michonne, Rosita, and others, Daryl was someone that you had connected with unexpectedly. Daryl Dixon was an enigma, but one you loved to try and figure out. He was someone who you  never would have bonded with if it hadn’t been for the end of the world, but everyday you were grateful for him and the way he always seemed to be looking out for you. 

There was something unspoken between the two of you and any time that you were apart, you were constantly looking over you shoulder in hopes of spotting the archer. Just as you were now as you worked  near Abraham, cutting into the timber that would help reinforce the walls of your new home. 

“Who would’ve thought?” Ford said as he called out to you. 

“What’s that, Red?” you called back, looking at him through the bright rays of sun that shone down on you. 

“You,” Abraham said. “Who would’ve thought you’d be into all of this?”

“Construction?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“No,” he said with a shit-eating grin, “helping.” Your mouth opened in shock at his jab, not finding it particularly funny. 

“Hilarious,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Abraham just began laughing, enjoying himself. You began to ignore him as you tried to hide your own smile when the sound of growls reached your ears. “Fantastic,” you said with a sigh as you leaned over to pick up your weapon, an extra-sharp machete that Rick had given you after the events of Terminus. 

The Walkers came from the South in a group, all meandering towards the site. “Stay sharp!” Ford yelled as he grabbed a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other. While you had your guns, nobody wanted to use ammo if they didn’t have to. The Alexandrians were worried, shuffling back as the Walkers approached, but you and Abraham moved to the front.

You began taking them down quickly with a few slashes of your blade. Two larger Walkers backed you up until your back hit a pile of stacked lumber. You took out the first, but the second moved too fast, falling into you. You fell back, hitting your head on the edge of the wood as you went down. The Walker landed on your arm, pressing it into the metal stake keeping the wood tied together. Groaning out in pain, you shoved your blade into the side of the Walker’s head and shoved it off with disgust. 

“(Y/N)!” Abraham yelled as he ran towards you. He took out the last Walker with a swing of his hammer before arriving at your side. “Ya alright, girl?”

“Fine,” you grunted, taking the hand Abraham stretched out for you to grab. Abraham pulled you to your feet and you ignored the pounding behind your eyes as you brushed sawdust off your jeans.

“Are you sure that you are okay?” he asked, slipping into his sergeant mode. 

“Abe, I am alright,” you said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Few bumps and bruises ain’t gonna keep me down.”

“Well, just head back alright? We’re gonna be headin’ inside any minute now,” he ordered. 

“I can help clean up,” you said, but he was shaking his head. 

“(Y/N), go,” he said and with a sigh, you saluted the man, picked up your machete, and turned back towards Alexandria.

-------

Arriving back home, you tried to keep steady on your feet, but it was becoming more difficult with each step. 

Nodding to Rick and Glenn who were speaking to Spencer, you continued on towards the house that you were sharing with the Grimes, Michonne, and Daryl. In the distance, you could see Judith being carried around by an amused Tara who swung her around on her hip, trying to make the little girl laugh. 

The ache in your head was the only thing distracting you from the searing pain in your arm. You could also feel thick blood starting to saturate the sleeve of your shirt, but you did your best to ignore it. If you could manage to get home and up to the bathroom unseen, everything would work out. The last thing you needed was for one of your friends to clock your injuries. 

Climbing up the steps to the house, you relaxed as it sounded empty. Dropping the façade, you let the pain show on your face for just a second, but a second was all it took for him to notice. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl said from a quiet spot on the porch. Still not used to how silent the man could be, you jumped out of your skin at his deep voice. 

“Fucking hell, Daryl!” you exclaimed, grabbing at your chest with your bad arm which only made you wince further. “Way to scare the hell out of me.” Daryl, who had been cleaning his bow, got to his feet and approached you, his brows drawn together. 

“Are ya gonna answer my question?” he asked, looking you over. Suddenly feeling somewhat shy, you took a step back from him, turning so your bad arm was further out of sight. 

“Walkers came up on us at the lumber spot,” you explained. “Everyone’s fine, but I got knocked down. It’s nothing.” 

“Is it also nothin’ that you can’t keep to stand still without staggerin’?” Daryl noticed, gesturing down at your feet. Glancing down, you saw a dizzying pattern of dirty bootprints as if you had horribly failed at a field sobriety test after a night out. 

“I…” you tried as the pain increased. “I may have hit my head on the way down.” 

“Mmhmm. Come on,” Daryl said as he took your arm to keep you steady and led you into the house.

“I can walk, Daryl,” you complained. 

“Yeah, into a wall maybe,” he said with a scoff. You frowned, but didn’t pull away as he took you to the room that he had claimed on the first level. 

Daryl’s room was quite neat, but considering none of you had many belongings, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Clothes were strewn across a single chair in the corner while his leather jacket was thrown on the unmade bed. Bolts for his bow, old and new, were on a table in front of the window, and tools for the bike Aaron had given him were tossed on top of the dresser.

It was very…Daryl.

“Sit,” he ordered, helping you to the edge of the mattress. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Daryl mirrored the motion before leaving the room quickly. You sat there awkwardly as Daryl went to fetch the medical kit. Being in his room alone, you felt as if you were in high school and in a boy’s room for the first time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you chastised yourself. This was Daryl, your friend, your partner when it came to runs or watch. However this was also Daryl, the man that had bewitched you body and soul. “Easy there, Darcy,” you said, shaking your head, trying to dislodge your Austen fantasy. 

“What?” Daryl asked as he returned with the supplies. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, averting your eyes. Daryl just hummed a response before sitting next to you and then gesturing for you to remove the flannel shirt you wore over your tank top. Carefully, you pulled down the sleeve and then slipped the shirt off your shoulder, the blood sticking to the fabric. The fresh wound snagged on the threads, causing you to hiss out in pain, but eventually you got it off. “Damn,” you swore, finally getting a look at the cut from the stake. 

“Not exactly shallow,” Daryl said, examining the wound. “It’s gonna leave a scar.”

“What else is new?” you said as a ringing entered your ears. You rubbed at one of them, trying to dislodge the annoying sound. 

“That’s what I thought,” Daryl said. 

“What?” you asked as Daryl began wiping away the extra blood with a towel. 

“Ears ringin’, right?” 

“Maybe…” you said, very aware of how his fingers moved across your blood-speckled skin. 

“Probably a concussion. The dizziness, ringin’, headache that I know ya got… irritability,” he said with a look and you swatted at him. “All shit ya get from a concussion.” You sighed deeply, not liking how the day was going. The last thing you needed was to be benched with your family in a new environment. You weren’t the best fighter, but you were damn good at surviving and you had to stay sharp. 

Daryl finished removing the blood before grabbing the needle and thread. Looking away, you stared at your boots as he tugged your skin back together. “Needles make ya sick?” he said with amusement in his voice. 

“No, but watching you stitch my flesh back together ain’t a walk in the park,” you said and then Daryl had an even softer touch.

“Almost done,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb above the wound, trying to soothe you and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working. “If you don’t tell people when you’re hurt, how are we supposed to help ya?” he asked. 

“It’s not your job,” you said, not really thinking it through. 

“Like hell it’s not,” Daryl shot back, but his tone remained calm. “We look out for each other, (Y/N). That’s what we do.” 

“I know,” you said, letting out another deep breath. “M’sorry.” Daryl tied off the last stitch and cut it before reaching for the bandage. You looked back just as he smoothed the sterile gauze over your arm, pressing it down firmly. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Daryl didn’t respond. Instead, he ran his hand down your arm until it got to your hand. Slipping his fingers into yours, he intertwined your hands together, rubbing his calloused fingers against your own. 

You sat like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, feeling the pressure of his hands in yours. This happened occasionally and you weren’t exactly sure what it meant. Daryl would sit next to you, press his leg into yours or even reach down and take your hand.

Back at the prison, he would just enter your cell and sit next to you. Even on the road, sometimes, he’d take your hand as you walked, letting it swing between the two of you. Daryl never  spoke, but he always made sure to add some pressure, as if letting you know that he was there. A part of you never wanted to look into it further. You all had seen some horrible things and you knew everyone needed to feel grounded. 

Daryl gravitated towards you to feel...something, you just weren’t sure what that was yet. 

“You know,” you whispered, leaning into him a bit, “there is a doctor here.” Daryl’s grip tightened then, almost as if he was afraid you were about to run. Looking up at you, his eyes were blue fire as he stared into your own. 

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere near that son of a bitch,” Daryl said. “He ain’t layin’ a single hand on ya, not after what I know what he does to that wife of his.” 

“Daryl,” you said, trying to keep him calm, “Pete’s not gonna hurt me.” 

“I know he’s not,” he said. “Because I’d kill him if he did, I don’t care who the hell he is.”

“Is that you lookin’ out for me?” you asked, reaching up with your other hand to brush a strand of hair from his eye. 

“Just don’t go to him, (Y/N),” Daryl said. “Alright?” If he was one to say “please”, you figured he was about to.

“I could have a concussion, remember?” you pointed out, still feeling the blooming migraine. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he said. “Herschel told me how to handle that. You’re gonna stay here with me tonight. I gotta keep wakin’ ya up so you don’t end up in a damn coma.” 

“Is that the only reason?” you asked, testing the waters. Daryl looked at you with a raised brow. 

“It’s the one I’m giving ya for now,” Daryl said. 

“Just for now?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said with a quick jut of his chin. You nodded and then leaned against him, feeling the pain echoing through your body. Daryl looped his other arm around your shoulder as you began to drift off. “I got ya, (Y/N),” he whispered as fatigue finally took over and you slumped into the man at your side.

-------

Daryl kept his word and made sure that he woke you up throughout the night. 

Any time his hand shook your shoulder, pulling you from your dreamless sleep, you awoke to his gentle face aglow by the camping lantern. He’d ask your pain level and make you drink water.

Afterwards, Daryl would get you to lay back down, smooth his hand over the side of your head, and you would fall right back to sleep. When he woke you up for the third time, you noticed a makeshift ashtray sitting on the window sill of the open window, the smoke filtering out into the night. Having known Daryl for a while, you knew what it looked like when he was taking watch. 

“Get some sleep,” you whispered as you rolled over to face him as he walked back towards his perch. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I got hours yesterday.”

“Liar,” you mumbled, already fading. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep again was Daryl leaning back against the window frame, his eyes on you as he flicked his cigarette in his fingers. 

In the morning, your head felt a bit better, but your arm was killing you. Hissing in pain, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back. Shadows danced on the ceiling from the sunrise and the breeze that floated through Alexandria. 

“Mornin’,” Daryl said from his spot by the window.

“Were you there all night?” you asked, sitting up. 

“Nah, took care of Judith a couple of times,” he said with a shrug. 

“Daryl…” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“It’s nothin’,” he said, waving you off. Getting up, he walked over to where you were and sat down next to you. From his pocket he pulled a pen light of all things. 

“Where did you find that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Carl grabbed it from asshole’s office,” Daryl explained as he clicked it on and raised it before your eyes. 

“Do you even know what you’re doin’?” you asked. 

“Just follow the light,” he said with a huff and so you did. Daryl checked out your pupils to make sure neither was blown and then stowed the light away. “Arm,” he ordered, grabbing the medical kit from the side table. Moving your arm felt like moving a ton of bricks. Then pain was bad from the wound, but your muscles felt as if needles had been going in them for hours. “Swelling went down a bit,” Daryl said as he gently prodded the skin. “Maybe we can find some meds for the inflammation. I’ll see what we got here.”

“Who would’ve thought?” you said as he changed the bandage on your arm. 

“What?”

“Doctor Dixon,” you mused with a grin. Daryl rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“Shut up,” he said, but you could tell he found it funny. 

“Guess I’m banned from helping with the lumber for a bit,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ford’s orders.” 

“Well, I ain’t about to sit here all day and do nothin’,” you said as he finished his task. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, testing your balance. When you were satisfied enough with the results, you went in search of your own room, desperate for a change of clothes. 

“Don’t fall!” Daryl called as you exited the room. You sent him a rude gesture over your shoulder, making him laugh. After only tripping twice, you managed to get to your room, grab some new clothes, and hit the shower. It was a hassle keeping your arm dry under the constant spray of water, but you managed well-enough. 

Once you were dressed and feeling somewhat human again, you headed back down stairs to only be met with Daryl. “You need to take it easy,” he said. 

“I’m not going to go hunting Walkers, Daryl,” you said, carefully pulling on your boots. “Maybe Olivia or Aaron could use some help. I know Gabriel has been wanting to get the church back together.”

“Great, let’s go,” he said, leaning against the front door. 

“You taggin’ along?” you asked, pulling yourself up. 

“I gotta make sure ya don’t collapse and take someone down with ya,” he said. With a quick laugh, you placed your knife in its sheath and approached him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you moved him out of the way. 

“Mmhmm,” you said with a smirk, “well, come on then, Doc,” you teased. 

“Oh my god…” he said, but followed you nonetheless. 

-----

For most of the day, Daryl was by your side. 

No matter what you were doing, he was there. Once you had convinced Gabriel to let you help him, he had you moving some things from Scott’s garage and into the church. Daryl, however, wasn’t on board with all the physical activity you were doing. So, instead of letting you carry the heavy boxes, he was there taking the weight himself. 

Daryl helped you carry anything over a few pounds and if you were being honest with yourself, you were rather enjoying him being so protective. He continued to help you the entire time you were doing errands for the priest and even when Deanna asked you to help move some files from the basement for Maggie to review, Daryl was there. 

He never once complained, but he was talking more than usual. As you completed the tasks for the day, Daryl was asking you questions about your life before the Apocalypse. He wanted to know where you grew up, if you had any siblings, and even what your parents were like. You knew a lot about his upbringing, but you never really spoke about your own. Still, with every question, you answered him honestly and it actually felt nice to talk about your family. 

When he asked about what those first few months after the firebombs dropped on the cities were like, you began to grow quieter. As with everyone you had met in the new world, you had lost people from the first day the Dead began to rise and it hadn’t stopped. You told Daryl about the first people you had met on the road, the ones who had been slaughtered by a group of the Dead as you were escaping the city. It was then that you had decided to take on the world alone if possible. 

That is until the fateful day in which you met Carl Grimes. 

When Daryl asked about any fears you had, you began to laugh. “What’s so damn funny?” he asked as you sat next to him in Aaron’s garage as he worked on the bike. He didn’t want to let you out of his sight and you knew he needed to get some grease on his hands before the day was over. 

“I guess I just never thought we would ever have to talk about our fears again, ya know? Aren’t we all scared of the same thing these days? The Dead, assholes with guns...each other.” 

“Each other?” Daryl echoed. “What do ya mean by that?”

“How well do we really know each other? Eugene lied to us for weeks, Tara was with the Governor, and even the people here are unknowns. I don’t know, Daryl, I guess if I had to talk about any fears it’d be that I’m scared that I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore.”

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Daryl said. “Best to always be on alert, that way ya don’t end up dead or worse.”

“It’s exhausting,” you admitted, rubbing at your temples. 

“Pain?” Daryl asked as soon as he noticed. 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“(Y/N),” he said, wiping the grease from his hands and crouching down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look in your eyes. “Tell me.”

“About a seven,” you admitted. 

“It was lower a few hours ago,” he said with a frown. 

“Guess I’ve been working harder than I thought,” you said, resting your head in his hand. Daryl reached back and grabbed his canteen. 

“Drink,” he ordered and you did, sipping the water slowly. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over your hair gently. “Better?” he asked. 

“Bit,” you admitted. Daryl withdrew his hand then and left you to finish the water, trying to get your hydration back to where it should be. Leaning back against the workbench, you watched as he worked, his shoulders tense as he pulled at gears or unscrewed bolts.

Daryl was always in his element when he worked on mechanics. You remembered the first time you saw him working on one of the cars at the prison. He had seemed so absorbed in everything he was doing, happy to be providing for his new family. 

You knew enough about cars to get by, but you could always learn more and so you observed him whenever you could. Watching Daryl rebuild cars or work on Merle’s bike was one of the main reasons you began to grow closer to each other. 

He looked up from his work then, feeling your eyes on him and he gave you a crooked grin, one that was rare, but one you loved so much.

-----

As day turned to night, Daryl helped you get home. 

The dizziness was back in waves and so he had you by the arm as you walked through the streets of Alexandria. He had tried to carry you, but after refusing over and over, he had relented to just holding you up, keeping a firm grip on you. 

As soon as you entered the house, Michonne and Rick were in the kitchen, making food for the house. “Long day?” Rick asked as you moved past him. 

“Too long,” you said, slumped against Daryl.

“Come on,” Daryl said, “you’re about to crash and burn.” You waved at Rick and Michonne as Daryl all but dragged you back to his room. As soon as you saw the bed, you nearly wept in relief. Daryl had been right, you should have stayed home. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“No,” you said as you sat down. Daryl kneeled down and began to unlace your boots as you held your bruised arm to your chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. “I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment Daryl Dixon gives me,” you said with a lazy smile. Daryl looked at you with an exhausted look. 

“Let’s not, alright?” he said as he finished with your boots. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said as you flopped back onto the bed. Daryl got up and joined you, sitting next to you. With your good arm, you reached up and tugged him down beside you, his body lying alongside yours. Turning your head to look at him, he was already looking at you through messy strands of hair. 

Slowly, you lifted up your hand and offered it to him. Daryl took it in his own and laced your fingers together, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your hands are warm,” you said in the low light of the room, your voice barely above a whisper as if it would crack the tension. 

“Yours are cold,” he said back, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “I should check your arm,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“It can wait,” you whispered, looking into those blue eyes of his as he pinned you to the planet with his gaze. “Thank you, for lookin’ out for me today,” you said, tightening your hold on his hand. 

“Always,” he said. “I’m always gonna be there for ya.” You gave him a small smile then as a shiver took over your body. “Cold?” he asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Bit,” you said with a shrug. Daryl reached behind him and grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over you, careful not to let go of your hand the entire time. His other arm was pressed to your side as he tried to adjust the blanket, but it lingered, adding pressure to your body. “Stay,” you whispered to him. 

“This is my room,” he said, looking down at you. 

“Smartass,” you said, trying not to break his gaze. 

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he said as he sat up a bit higher and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle, but warm, his lips leaving a spot of heat on your skin. When he pulled back, you locked eyes with him again before slipping your hand out of his and reaching up to drag your fingers through his hair. Getting to his neck, you pulled him down to you and he met you there, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. His lips were heavy on yours and he tasted exactly as you had imagined. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “Your head needs to heal,” he whispered, not wanting to move any further away from you. 

“My mind has never been more clear,” you said, grabbing his face again. “Kiss me, Doc,” you said and with a chuckle, he did.

Daryl lay with you, kissing you, holding you, and never once leaving your side as you finally succumbed to sleep, your body desperately needing to heal. Looking down at you in the low light of the lantern, he promised that would never let you go, not now, not ever. 

He had asked you about your fears, but you hadn’t asked him about his. In truth, he was only scared of one thing and that was losing you.

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ @huffledor-able541​

#Twd imagines #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #walker words #twd fanfiction

[seijorhi]

Final Girl

Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

And please check out the incredible fanart @lausterdomyamong created for this fic here 💕💕💕

TW blood, gore, violence, minor character death, implied non-con, pregnancy mentions, nsfw

Your lungs are burning. 

You haven’t run like this in years, your thighs are screaming at you for a reprieve. With every step it feels like the soles of your bare feet are splitting open but you can’t stop, not for a single second.

You can’t stop. You can’t stop. 

Keep running.

It’s dark, and you can barely see.

Stumbling like newborn foal through the thick undergrowth, tripping over the roots that catch at your feet. Your legs are scratched and bleeding, and there’s a nasty scrape along your arm from where you’d fallen and tried to cushion the blow, but you shove it all down and you keep running.

You can’t hear much over the sounds of your laboured breaths and your own heartbeat hammering away inside of your ears, but you know you must be making a racket. Branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot as you clumsily dash through the woods - keep running, keep going.

Being quiet won’t save you if they catch up.

The loud whoops and the hyena like laughter that echo out through the trees behind you spur you onwards. Faster, you have to run faster.

This is nothing but a game to them. 

“Wait- wait, just stop for a sec… do you hear that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to his bedroll, “Really, babe? The campfire stories weren’t enough for you? Do you not want me to sleep at all on this trip?”

There’s a teasing little grin on your face, not that your boyfriend can see it in the darkness of your tent. You expect him to laugh, grab you by the waist and pull you under him - make some quip about his wicked intentions of not letting you sleep a wink, but he doesn’t.

He stiffens, pushing himself back upright onto his palms, head cocked to the side like a dog listening for the faintest hint whisper of a sound.

“Babe-”

“Shh!” he hisses, and it’s more shock than anything else that has your mouth falling shut. His hand reaches across to grab yours in the darkness and he squeezes it just once. An apology maybe, or a reassurance that you’re still there with him. “Can you hear that? I think… I think there’s someone out there.”

You swallow uneasily, goosebumps prickling at your skin. If this is part of some stupid joke, you’re gonna kick him out of this tent and make him bunk with his friends for the rest of the trip. He’s never been one for mean spirited pranks, but this is freaking you out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys-” or an animal, or the wind, or his own overactive imagination. You guys are out in the middle of the woods after all. 

“I’m gonna go out and check,” he whispers, pulling his hand from yours and pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. “Stay here.”

There’s a road, a long stretch of winding highway that you’d driven along for what felt like hours when you’d first arrived with your friends. There’s no possible way for you to know if you’re going in the right direction, but if you can just make it there, then-

The thick scent of smoke invades your nose and for you falter - just for a split second - searching for the source. There, maybe two hundred yards away to your left, you spot the orange glow flickering between the trees and your stomach lurches.

Dark figures flit through the clearing, maybe a dozen of them, half illuminated by the bonfire. You can hear their laughter, the shouts and drunken revelry as they party the night away. They don’t have a care in the world, and why should they? Real monsters belong in horror movies and scary stories, not lurking in the shadows of the woods. 

Leave them.

The vicious thought takes you by surprise, but for one awful moment, you consider it. The promise of fresh new toys to rip apart and break, drunk and blissfully unaware, surely that would be enough to tempt them away. You’re just one girl… 

(The truth, the one that sits heavy in your stomach, whispers that you know better than to believe they’ll ever let you get away.)

Your heart pounds against your ribs, your legs unwittingly slowing down. You don’t have time for indecision; it’s them or you.

If leaving them to the wolves meant that you walked away from this, if you could make it back home-

There’s a shout, a scream that rips through the crisp autumn night before it cuts off with an abrupt gurgle. A loud thud followed by a laugh you don’t recognise - one that sends a chill running down your spine. More voices, more screams. Footsteps and a splatter of something dark and viscous against the side of your tent.

There’s a hoot and a chuckle, closer this time, and you hear a sob that’s all too familiar. Pleading. 

Your friend begging for her life.

“Shh, shh, shhh. Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Another hiccuping sob. “Please… p-please I don’t wanna die…”

“Kuroo-”

There’s a petulant huff, a loud voice interjecting, “s’no fun when they’re just sitting there.”

Kneeling frozen in your tent with one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle your own terrified cries, you squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to draw breath. 

Somebody sighs - the first one, you think. “Y’know, I think Bokuto has a point… Do you like games, sweetheart?”

There’s no response - at least not one that you can hear - but she must have nodded, because the voice continues, “Glad to hear it! Tell you what, we’re gonna play a little game, and if you win, we’ll let you go! Sounds fair, right?”

“We’ll even give you a headstart, just cause we’re nice guys! Whad'ya reckon ‘Kaashi? A minute? Two?”

There’s a short silence, filled only by the sounds of her ragged whimpering. “Two,” the second one - ‘Kaashi - decides. His voice is deadpan, smooth, cold and blunt, but there’s an underlying current of something excitable - the barest hint that he’s not quite as disinterested as he sounds. “She won’t get away.”

No.

You veer, sprinting towards the camp. 

The others died while you hid like a fucking coward, too scared to do anything to help them (it wouldn’t have made a difference, but you should have tried) you can’t do this again. 

You can only imagine how you must look, a strange woman sprinting out of the woods, barefoot, your nightgown torn and filthy, blood streaking your skin. You can pinpoint the moment that they catch sight of you, one of the guys doing a double take and jerking so badly he almost falls off the log he’s perched on. “What the fuck?!”

Another turns, eyes wide and gaping, “Dude, she’s fucking pre-”

“RUN!” you bellow, just in time to see an axe arc through the air beside you and embed itself smack bang in the centre of his skull with a sickening thud.

“Now that’s a bullseye!” Bokuto hollers, maybe thirty feet behind you and gaining quickly. “Didja see that, Akaashi?”

Screams erupt from the other campers, scrambling frantically to their feet as their friend collapses lifelessly to the ground, blood still spurting gruesomely from his wound. 

“Don’t go gettin’ cocky now, the night’s still young,” Kuroo drawls, swinging his baseball bat - the dark wood flecked with dried blood, rusted nails crudely hammered through the barrel - experimentally through the air a few times. “And last I counted, I was still two up on you.”

There’s no time to humour the fear that rips through you like wildfire. You grab the nearest camper - a girl not much older than yourself, staring wide eyed and trembling at the body in front of her - and yank her forward with you. “Run,” you hiss again.

The others scatter, drunk and clumsy - a split second too slow. 

A boot lands on the fallen tree stump, its owner springing gracefully over it. Akaashi’s machete gleams in the moonlight, sweeping gracefully like an extension of his arm as he slices downwards. Blood sprays, drenching his front, and another body falls to the ground - this one missing half a face. 

It’s brutal. Chaotic. 

Ruthless. 

You can’t look back, you can’t help them. The girl is screaming at you, yelling words you can’t hear, trying fruitlessly to tug her wrist out of your grip, but you don’t relent. You don’t slow down, not even as dread fills your stomach and tears burn unshed in your eyes. You can’t help the others - not as Kuroo’s bat comes swinging out of the darkness, tearing flesh and muscle from bone, not when Bo yanks his axe from his victim’s head with a foot planted on his chest, immediately giving chase to another with a wild grin, not when Akaashi’s machete, slick with blood, cuts through her friends like butter - but you can save her.

Just one person- 

“Kitten, come back and play!” Kuroo shouts after you with a sickeningly fond chuckle.

- so long as you don’t stop running.

The camp is eerily quiet, even the crickets have stopped. You have no idea how long ago they left to hunt down your friend, how long you’ve sat, sobbing in silence, too scared to breathe, waiting to see if they’d come back. 

Your friends are dead. Your boyfriend is dead. 

You don’t realise how badly you’re shaking until you try and move - almost falling flat on your face when your arms give out. They’re gone, but every noise, no matter how muted, feels deafening and you try not to flinch as you drag yourself towards the mouth of the tent. You don’t have time to prepare yourself for the carnage waiting for you across the camp ground, you can’t think about the fact that people you love have been torn apart and murdered while you cowered away frozen in fear.

The grip you have on your emotions, your sanity, is fragile, but in your terrified hysteria, you understand one very important thing - they could come back at any moment, and you cannot be here when that happens. 

You cannot stop and cry for your friends, you cannot afford to break down when you see their bodies hacked up and scattered around you - you won’t even look - you just have to take the car keys fisted in your right hand, get to your boyfriend’s truck and get the fuck away from this nightmare as quickly as those wheels can take you. 

Crawling on your hands and knees you slowly pry open the tent flap, biting your lip and wincing at the quiet hiss of the zipper. 

The cold night air hits you like a slap in the face, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming coppery tang of blood that settles on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it in. You bite down on your whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your leaden limbs to move - you can’t afford to stop now, you have to get away.

You won’t look, you won’t look, you won’t-

“I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.”

Ice douses your system, your heart lurching. Your eyes shoot open, darting towards the source of the voice - there, leaning calmly against the thick trunk of a tree only a few feet away from you is a man. Tall and slender, with dark hair and delicate features, you’d probably go so far as to call him pretty if it wasn’t for the blood splattered garishly across his pale skin and the teasing grin tugging at his lips. 

Absolute terror renders you helpless as he pushes away from the tree and takes a single, calculated step towards you. “Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be long, they’re just finishing up with your friend.” His pretty smirk widens as your eyes well up with tears and a gasping sob finally rips its way free from your chest, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if we get started without them.”

You’re following the well trodden path, praying to god that it’ll lead you back to the road, to any kind of safety. The shouts and screams behind you died out a few minutes ago, but you can’t let yourself think about what that means - it’ll only slow you down and you’re so close.

“Wait, wait, stop! We ha-have to go back!” the girl cries, trying once again to pull you to a stop. “My friends-”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, glancing across at her - and you are. Her eyes are wide and terrified, swimming in a pain you know all too well. It’s selfish and cruel, and it’ll tear her apart just like it has you, but if you let her go now… “It’s too late for them, we need to keep-”

“Baby, you know you can’t hide from us!”

Bokuto. Your heart seizes just as the girl shrieks, and you risk a glance over your shoulder, slowing just a faction. 

They’re closing in, all three of them, less than twenty yards away.

Panic and desperation bite at your nerves - you can’t let them catch you, not now, not when you’re almost free. But your body is aching, your muscles on fire and your stamina is shot to pieces. You’re on your last legs and they know it. They don’t even have to run anymore, they’ve worn you down completely - it’s a miracle you’re still standing.

And it’s childish and petulant, but you just want to scream and cry and yell and beat your fists against the ground because it’s not fucking fair!

You were so close.

Your grip around her wrist slackens just a touch, and the girl takes the opportunity to rip her hand free from yours. You expect her to run, to flee like a bat out of hell and leave you crumpled in the dust, but instead she turns to you with a withering glare, “This is all your fault. You brought them here. You did this.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, but before you can even open your mouth to protest (she’s not wrong, you know she’s not wrong) she grabs you by the shoulders and with all the strength she has left, shoves you back in the path of your pursuers. You stumble from the force of the blow, not expecting it, and for a moment you feel yourself start to fall, instinctively curling in on yourself to protect your belly-

Strong arms catch you before you can hit the ground, pulling you against a warm, muscular chest. “Gotcha,” Kuroo breathes, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood splattered across your cheek.

Vaguely, you register Bokuto’s low, furious growl as he launches forward, his axe raised high. The sharp, piercing screams are cut off quickly - violently - as he buries it in her neck with a snarl. He swings again and her head tumbles clean off to bounce across the forest floor, but he keeps going, swinging again and again and again until her body is nothing but a bloody, mangled mess for the animals to scavenge. 

Your vision blurs, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s tears welling up in your eyes as Kuroo’s hands run up and down your sides, drifting protectively across the gentle swell of your stomach. “You did good, kitten,” he coos, Akaashi and Bokuto coming up either side of you. “But it’s time to come home now, don’tcha think?”

A hand cups your cheek, drawing you to meet Akaashi’s twisted, lovesick expression, “Gotta reward our pretty little girl for playing her role so well,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin. 

“Maybe we can fuck another kid into her,” Bokuto adds with a grin, his previous rage all but forgotten, sated along with his bloodlust thanks to the butchered corpse lying a few yard away. His golden eyes, half lidded and burning with lust, flicker across your face for just a moment, drinking in every last drop of crushing defeat and despair before his lips crash down on yours in a savage, bloody kiss.

This was nothing but a game to them - one you never had a chance in hell of winning. 

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #tw blood #tw violence #tw gore #tw implied noncon #tw murder #my writing #tw pregnancy #hhhh it's 4:45 i hope y'all are happy #i'mma go sleep now

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker x Stalker, Part 1

Part 1/13, 51.3k words

Next part

Guys, I'm a whole five layers into procrastinating right now. Procrastinating my schoolwork with Alternate Ending, Alternate Ending with Miraculous TikTok, Miraculous TikTok with house chores, and house chores with this... it's like when you do something long enough in a game and you level up at it except instead of getting really good at jumping I'm extremely productive in the worst ways

Nonetheless have some Timinette

Perma taglist: @nathleigh

When Tim learned that his favorite designer was moving to Gotham, he had been conflicted.

On one hand, she was coming to Gotham! Things he ordered wouldn’t take what felt like years to arrive! There was a chance of actually seeing her in person!

On the other hand, why would anyone even want to move to Gotham? Sure, Tim had never left despite his wealth, but only because he’d gotten Stockholm Syndrome-d into liking the place by the time he was legally able to leave. MDC had no such attachments. If she was moving to America then why not pick Metropo -- ew, actually, no, fuck Metropolis -- somewhere safe?

He tipped his head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling for a moment, mulling over his options in his mind.

He sighed and pulled his laptop to himself. He’d watch her for a bit to make sure she adjusted well to Gotham and that would be the end of it.

~

Marinette hummed as she fell back on her new bed.

It had been a long few months for her. She’d thought she’d be happy when Hawkmoth was finally defeated but, in the end, she’d just been bored. It turns out that adrenaline and dopamine are hard to get when your brain is wired for only using them in life-or-death situations.

And what better place to experience life-or-death situations than Gotham?

Of course, it wasn’t as consistent as Paris’ one or two akumas a day, but she could make do. One scrap of adrenaline a week was better than none at all.

So far, though, she hadn't had much of a chance to get that adrenaline. She’d spent the first seven days moving in. Obsessing over what color drapes she should use, obsessing even more about the locks she needed to put on her windows…

But now she was done with all that. And she had underestimated the time it would take to get settled in so she wasn’t going to be getting any commissions for the next week or so. Which meant the boredom was back tenfold.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t. High-pitched screaming started up, growing in intensity until it was practically rocking the foundations.

Marinette ran to the window and her face lit up when she saw a green gas slowly rolling over the city and heading her way. “YES!”

Tikki gave her a disapproving look.

“I mean… oh nooooo those people are so scared I guess I’ll have to help them.”

She smiled ‘innocently’ at her kwami before grabbing her purse and ducking out her door. She looked around and saw all her fellow tenants looking confused.

“It’s just fear gas, right?” One of them asked.

She didn’t know why they were asking her, she was just even less likely to know what was going on than they were, but she answered nonetheless: “You’d think so, but everyone has gas masks, so… there’s probably something else going on.”

Her neighbors exchanged grim looks before disappearing into their houses.

She shrugged to herself and locked her door. They were dealing with it, probably.

She found a dark alley and did a quick glance around -- left, right, right, left -- before mumbling to transform.

(She made sure that every part of her was covered, despite not really liking the look of it, because there was no way she was just going to step into an unknown gas without making sure that it wasn’t going to hurt her.)

Marinette hesitantly walked towards the green cloud despite her instincts and the people around her yelling that it was a very, very bad idea. She couldn’t feel anything, thank the kwamis, but her suit was steaming which was decidedly not good. She stepped further inside, her skin crawling (she had to hope this was unrelated to whatever acid was in the air).

She kept her gaze up determinedly to avoid looking at all the quickly decaying bodies on the ground as she slipped through the cloud in search of the source of the gas.

She came upon Poison Ivy after an hour of searching. She was, predictably, sitting on a giant flower. Less predictably, though, smaller versions of the flower sprouted off of it and released the acidic gas into the world. She considered just trying to sneak up and cut off all the stems, but decided against it. Even if Ivy somehow missed her doing this, she would probably just be able to regrow everything.

“Hey!” Marinette chirped as she dropped from a roof.

Ivy turned to look at her and Marinette saw confusion make its way across her face. “Who’re you?”

She looked down at her suit. Her entire torso was red with black polka-dots, her arms and legs were pure black save for red fingers, her face was blacked out and almost featureless outside of white lenses over her eyes.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“... I don’t know. Polka-Dot Man’s daughter or something?”

“No! I’m Ladybu -- wait, did you just say Polka-Dot Man? That’s a thing?”

Poison Ivy shrugged. “I mean, he’s dead, but yeah he was a thing. Anyways, are you on my side or not?”

‘No! Obviously not!’ her mind screamed, but outwardly she just shrugged and said, “Depends, why’re you doing this?”

“Humans are killing the earth, so I found a way to kill humans without killing the earth, too!”

No one could see it because of her suit, but Marinette opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a good minute before she brought her brain back enough to choke out her answer:

“Oh. Bold choice. Really interesting. Um. Consider: no?”

Poison Ivy sighed. “Listen, kid. I like ladybugs, they help my plants, so I’m going to give you one chance here: leave.”

Marinette brought her finger to her lips, tapping the fabric over her mouth repeatedly as if thinking, and then tossed her yoyo and cut the flower that Ivy was sitting on.

Ivy gasped in surprise as she fell, but Marinette’s moment of victory lasted approximately half a second before Ivy was lifted off the ground via vine.

Every single plant in the area suddenly perked up and made a beeline for her.

‘Oh. I’m fucked.’

Marinette jumped to avoid the initial attack and summoned a lucky charm. She looked down at the machete in her hand and her nose scrunched. Great.

A vine wrapped around her ankle and yanked her back to the ground and she hissed out a curse as her legs protested the harsh landing. She had bigger problems than probably broken legs, though, because there were other vines heading her way. She looked at the machete in her hand and swung it at the vine attached to her foot.

Well, at least the machete was sharp, she supposed.

She rolled away from the attacking plants and her legs screamed in protest at the fact that she was putting weight on them, but she took a few quick breaths and bit back bile and continued on like everything was a-okay.

She looked at where the flower had been. Ivy had made a throne of sorts out of flowering vines. She laid across the armrests and conducted the vines attacking Marinette with a lazy finger.

Marinette yelped in surprise when something wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the plants. She hit ground -- or, rather, roof -- and skidded over the concrete for a few feet before she came to a stop.

Black Bat and Signal. Oh, thank the kwamis. Help had finally come.

“Thanks,” she said shortly, slipping out of the grappling wire.

The three of them made a hasty retreat, disappearing inside a place a few buildings down. An office building, she thought as she dropped herself into a desk chair.

“How do you deal with her all the time?”

“Well, usually, she doesn’t do this much,” said Signal with a half-hearted smile. “It’s been a while since she’s been on the whole ‘kill everyone on Earth’ thing.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows behind her mask but then shrugged it off and took a quick look out the window. Ivy’s plant throne was rolling around on the ground as she searched for them.

“She’s got plants releasing something airborne that apparently kills everything but plants. Best option is knocking her out somehow. You got something in your tool belts for that?”

Black Bat shook her head.

Marinette hadn’t really been expecting them to, but her shoulders still sagged a little with disappointment.

“I can distract her pretty well,” said Signal after a few moments. “You two can work at taking her down.”

She hesitated. “It’d probably be more efficient to have two people as bait. I’ll help you.”

“I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger,” said Signal.

She shrugged. “I’ve already got two broken legs... and I think a dislocated ankle but not really sure on that one.”

“You what --?!”

“You heard me. Hurts like hell. It’s fine, though.”

How did she know they were looking at her with wide eyes when she couldn’t see their eyes?

She leaned back in her chair, twirling her machete absently as Signal and Black Bat talked.

(Well, they weren’t exactly ‘talking’. Black Bat and Signal just looked at each other and made vague hand motions every once in a while. She tried to follow along, but apparently her ability to know every language did not cover bat-ese.)

Black Bat, eventually, gave Marinette two thumbs up and apparently that was all she was going to get because Signal and Black Bat were already heading out the window they’d come in through.

Marinette sighed and followed after them.

Was it easier to dodge when there were two people? Not really. Or, maybe, Ivy had somehow gotten stronger in the five-ish minutes they’d been gone.

The two of them stood back to back, slashing and hacking through as many plants as they could, but there were far too many and they were quickly getting overwhelmed. Marinette barely managed to notice the one trying to snake around their legs before it could turn them upside down. Signal had grabbed her by the shoulder once to keep her from getting clobbered by a vine carrying a bat (which, by the way, what the fuck?!).

She yelped when she felt Signal get torn away from her and turned to watch him get thrown into a car. The metal crumpled under the impact, which did not bode well for the not metal person that hit it.

She managed to weave her way over and cut him out of the vines attempting to cocoon him, then wondered how she was supposed to check his pulse when any exposed skin meant touching acid. Thankfully, though, he stirred and his mask tipped up to look at her.

“’m fine,” he slurred.

She was skeptical, but she stepped back a step.

“Three!” Said Signal suddenly, which would have been helpful if her brain was in fight mode and not ‘help partner’ mode. It wasn’t, so a vine attempted to impale her Dean Winchester style.

The vine did not succeed in its murder attempt, but she kinda wished it did when it sent her flying into a nearby telephone pole headfirst. She groaned in pain and slid to the ground, head spinning with what was probably a concussion if the way her stomach turned meant anything.

She didn’t get to throw up, though, as something came up and blocked her throat. She struggled against the vine around her neck, hands fumbling for her machete at her side. How does one close their hand again?

Nope, those are eyes. Open those again, please. Please?

And then, suddenly, she was able to breathe again. She slumped against the wall and took deep breaths to get her lungs back into working condition.

She peeled her eyes open despite the pain and looked around. Black Bat had knocked out Ivy and was now tying her up. Signal was making his way over, using an escrima stick as a kind of cane.

She shook her head as if trying to clear it and then looked at the ground until she found her machete again. She struggled for a moment to get her body to work enough to reach for it and grab it, but she got there eventually so it was fine.

“Miraculous Ladybug,” she murmured, tossing it and watching it dissolve into ladybugs.

She blinked until her brain started working again and looked up to see Signal and Black Bat both leaning over her. She couldn’t read their expressions through their armor, but she was pretty sure they were more tense than they had been since the last time she’d really looked at them. Which was wild, because the last time they’d been surrounded by acidic gas.

“You’re a meta.”

She gave a shrug. “Kinda. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He sighed. “There’s a no meta rule in Gotham.”

“Aren’t you a meta?”

Signal didn’t answer, just offered her a hand up.

She hesitantly allowed him to pull her to her feet and she stretched out her newly fixed body. Kwami, she wouldn’t take being intact for granted ever again (or, at least, not until the next fight).

Signal and Black Bat had another one of those silent conversations and eventually Black Bat went over and collected Poison Ivy.

Marinette raised her eyebrow at the hand still in hers and Signal sighed and moved his grip up to her bicep.

“Can I take you to see Batman?”

“Do I actually get a choice in this?”

Signal winced. “Not really.”

She sighed. “Thought so. Alright. Let’s go.”

Welp. She’d lasted a whole week in Gotham. It had been fun while it lasted, she supposed.

~

Listen, sometimes you accidentally stumble across someone’s secret identity. It wasn’t like he was trying to figure out who Ladybug was, hell there was no way he could have even known she was going to show up in Gotham at all.

But then a cloud of green gas started rolling towards them while he was… watching over her and he had paled. He didn’t know if it was Joker Gas, Fear Gas, or something of Ivy’s creation, but if there were that many people screaming it probably needed more than just the usual gas mask or respirator.

He hadn’t relaxed until Marinette had ducked out of her apartment and started running away from the gas. Good. Despite her being new, she wasn’t stupid --.

Except then she swerved into an alleyway. Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he ran across rooftops to where he’d seen her disappear. He saw her look around anxiously, checking for something. She was panicking, he thought -- of course she was, she had no real experience with Gotham’s bullshit.

He prepared himself to drop down, to be all ‘Hello random citizen who I do not know, I’m here to take you to safety’, only for red light to envelop her. He stared in stunned silence as she shifted awkwardly in what seemed to be a knockoff Spiderman costume and then headed out.

Ah. Well, now he understood why she had picked Gotham of all places.

He didn’t get much time to mull it over, though, as the gas started getting closer. He hesitated before calling it in, just in case his family had somehow missed the giant thing slowly taking over the city.

“Hey, so… bad news, guys, there’s apparently something going on downtown. Gas. Seems to work with just skin contact.”

“Black Bat and I are on it,” said Duke.

Tim nodded despite knowing that they couldn’t see it and started working on getting civilians to safety. Most of the bats had some parts of their faces or arms uncovered for reasons to connect with victims, so it was really up to Cass and Duke this time.

He worried his lip anxiously the entire time.

And then the ladybugs washed over the world and he felt his lip tear. Ah. That wasn’t great. Bruce was going to be fucking pissed about the newest illegal meta.

‘Well, guess it’s time to learn how to be a defense attorney in the half hour it takes me to get back to the batcave’, he thought, pulling out his phone…

It took him an hour to get to the batcave, which was both really good and really bad. Good because he’d gotten twice the time to learn defense than he’d thought he would; bad because he was the last one there and Bruce looked like he was about to explode.

Marinette had pulled the top part of her suit down like a hood -- he hadn’t even realized there was a zipper over the face -- and was now sitting on a railing and sipping at a Caprisun beneath a black surgical mask.

She looked up at him briefly when he dismounted Redbird and he watched her eyes narrow just slightly before her gaze returned to the bats on the ceiling.

“Since everyone is here, I suppose we can start,” said Bruce, his voice carefully calm.

Marinette finished off her Caprisun and pushed herself up to stand on the railing. “Hi. Ladybug. French hero. Nice to meet you guys.”

Tim waved at her and she smiled enough under her mask for her eyes to crinkle.

“I know about your no meta rule, but I’m not really a meta. Got magic jewelry.” She pushed some hair behind her ears to show off her earrings. “So I really don’t count myself and you shouldn’t either.”

Bruce shook his head a little. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not a meta on your own, you’re a liability to have in the city.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and wordlessly pointed at Duke, which was a good point.

“We know we can trust him.”

“We can trust her,” Tim cut in. His entire family turned and gave him wide-eyed stares behind their masks and all he could do was shrug. “She’s been doing hero work for four years, if she was going to go bad she probably would have already done so.”

“How do we know she’s the same person?” Asked Bruce.

Tim tipped his head towards Cass.

Cass huffed a little and then looked at Marinette.

Marinette shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Um…?”

Cass nodded slightly and then made a motion not much unlike a referee at a baseball game. ‘Safe’.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. Marinette, upon seeing this, relaxed herself.

“Seriously, though, don’t you guys want someone that can reverse physical damages on the team, anyways? None of you have powers of any kind except him, it’s probably better to have me for now and risk me turning later than not having me at all.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head exasperatedly. “That’s not the point.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Oh? Can someone tell me what the death count would have been for today if I hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence stretched for a few moments.

“Exactly. I get you’re cautious or whatever, that’s your whole ‘thing’, but kwami you’ve passed cautious and gone all the way to paranoid and stubborn. Relax.” She hopped over the bats and pulled the bottom of her surgical mask up to try and take another sip of her empty Caprisun. “Right, someone get me out of here? I’m tired of being questioned.”

The bats were all quiet for a moment as they considered this.

Tim hesitantly raised his hand. “I can take you home.”

She grinned and pointed at him. “Congrats, you’ve officially won second best bat.”

“Who’s first?” Said Tim, who was not offended.

She pointed at Cass. Cass perked up a little.

Ah. He rescinded his offense -- his not offense, sorry -- because, yeah, fair enough.

Marinette smiled and turned to Duke. “I guess you’re going to blindfold me again?”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Duke, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bats orders.”

Bruce grunted, which was B for ‘Yes, but why would you call me out for it?’

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes. She turned to Steph. “How do you put up with all these guys? You only have Black Bat and she doesn’t talk -- or, at least, I don’t think she does.”

“Oh, there’s more --.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce warned.

Steph rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Yeah, she’s not the only one but the other two are a little… uptight sometimes. Glad to have you on board.”

Marinette looked a little confused but she nodded. “Fair. I like your mask.”

“Thanks! Yours is cooler, though.”

“They’re… they’re the same…” said Duke with a confused frown.

Marinette and Steph both gave him affronted looks.

“Excuse me?” Said Marinette, and Tim was reminded that she was a fashion designer. He silently said a prayer so Duke could get into heaven. “They are completely different! Look at the stitching, hers has a --.”

Bruce strode away, fingers pressed to his temples despite his cowl being in the way, which amused Marinette enough for her to stop chewing out Duke for not noticing the all-important stitching. She shook her head slightly and turned back to Tim.

“You said you were gonna take me out?”

He nodded slightly. After Steph tied the blindfold on Tim led her to Redbird and Cass helped her get on behind him. He made sure that she was holding on tightly before sending his family a tiny two-finger salute and taking off. She buried her face in his back.

He came to a stop outside a cafe and, when he propped his bike up, she pulled her blindfold from her face. She scrunched up her face at the sudden light and he pretended to fumble with the clasp of his helmet to hide his smile.

“I can walk you the rest of the way home,” he said. “If you’d like.”

She laughed a little. “I’m a hero, too, y’know. I don’t need your protection.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh? Then why were you using me as a shield from the wind earlier?”

“Because you assholes didn’t give me a helmet!” She said, giving him a playful punch on the arm. She hesitated. Her head tipped to the side. “Thanks for coming to my defense earlier, by the way.”

He smiled. “It’s nothing, really. And don't worry about B, he’s just a bit of an ass when people first show up.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, I was so worried about what the guy that dresses up like a bat to fight crime thought of me,” she said, but her shoulders relaxed all the same. She glanced at the cafe he had pulled up to and smiled. “Do you know if this place is any good?”

“I know it has coffee,” said Tim.

“Ah, the world’s second greatest detective strikes again.”

He grinned. “I assume you're the greatest detective?”

“Of course,” she said. She looked inside and tipped her head slightly, considering. “Everyone in there is hipsters, so it’s either really bad or really good. Either way it’s really overpriced.”

He hummed his agreement.

She sighed and pulled her wallet out of a hidden pocket. If they lived in a cartoon a fly would have flown out of it when she opened it.

“I’ll pay,” he offered.

Her eyes widened and her face lit up for half a second before she schooled it into a teasing smile. “Wow, gonna buy me a drink and I don’t even have to pretend to flirt with you? Score!”

“Do that often?”

She batted her eyelashes. “No. I’m a law abiding citizen who would never use creepy old men to give me drinks while underage because America’s drinking laws are bullshit. I’m a hero and I would never break the law. Obviously.”

For some reason, he didn’t quite believe her.

Nonetheless, he just rolled his eyes and led her inside.

#timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #stalker x stalker #maribat

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 5/? Billy Butcher/OFC

pairing: Billy Butcher/OFC

rating: mature

summary: Sometimes even a wavering light in the darkness can be enough to bring you through. How will Billy Butcher cope with falling in love with a supe he can't walk away from?

notes: This story starts some years before the show.

chapter: 5/?

tag list:

Addison paused as she approached her apartment door. Something was....

For a moment she stood in the hallway and listened but it was late and she was worn and she couldn’t quite focus on blocking out the city noise. She closed her eyes and finally discerned the sound of a drink being poured into a glass in her kitchen. It had been so long, but there was really only one person it could be.

“Butcher,” she said coming into her loft and closing the door behind her. She dropped her bag on the floor. “Long time no —”

He turned and then she saw his face was a mess, black and blue and swollen and bleeding. “What happened?” she asked, surprised.

He let his gaze drift over her, down to her feet and up again. “Back from a job, I see.”

She had on tight black leggings and a black long sleeve, her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

He took a drink, still looking at her. “Off anyone?”

Addison sighed. “No, Butcher. Not today. What about you? Looks like whoever you tried to off fought back.”

She moved past the kitchen, heading for her bathroom as she unwrapped a bit of cloth from her forearm then stripped her long sleeved shirt off. “Let me just check my arm, then I can patch you up,” she called back to him but he followed her through her small apartment.

“What happened to your arm?” He leaned against the door jam as she turned on the water and dampened the corner of a towel.

“Machete...” she murmured. She lifted her arm, showing him the bloody cut on the inside of her forearm. The bleeding had mostly stopped and some of the blood on her skin had dried. She used the towel to clean her arm so she could see the wound better.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut. I woulda killed the cunt that tried that on me.”

Addison shrugged. “They wanted him for questioning.” She looked closer. “It was at least an inch deeper and longer an hour ago,” she murmured. “And I think the bleeding’s stopped. I wonder...”

“You wonder what?”

Addison finished cleaning her arm then looked up at him. “I thought for sure I’d need a doctor. Maybe I’m losing it, but...I’m healing faster than I used to.” She stretched her fingers out, testing the movement then clenched her fist. Pain was gone already. “Hm.” She looked up at him.

“Well that’s a bit strange, ain’t it?”

“Guess I’ll wrap it and see what happens.” She shook her head slightly and grabbed some gauze out of a drawer to quickly wrap her arm. This wasn’t really a conversation she wanted to be having with Butcher. She shouldn’t give him more reason to hate her and what she was.

“Go sit,” she gestured toward the chair at her table, changing the subject. “Let me clean —” she looked at his face — “that up a little.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but he refrained for whatever reason and Addison was grateful. She pulled her full first aid kit from her cabinet and went out to the table, pulling the chair around to sit in front of him.

“So what happened,” she asked softly as she started to clean the first of a few cuts on his face.

“Bar fight. Bunch of cunts.”

“Hmm,” Addison hummed but she didn’t say anything else. She lifted one hand to press against his jaw as she dabbed at a cut on his cheek, then moved to the next. His beard tickled her palm, not as coarse as she thought it would be.

After a moment though the silence seemed to get to him. “Get on with the inevitable lecture then,” he grumbled, his accent deepening in his impatience.

Addison paused to meet his gaze, dropping her hands to her lap. “What would I say?” she answered back. Turning to the table, she opened a little packet of antibacterial gel,  and reached back up to dab a little on the bad cut on his temple. “I’m not going to try to fix you, Billy...” she opened a small butterfly bandage and applied it carefully over the cut, smoothing her fingers over the ends to make sure it was secure.

“In case you haven’t noticed, love, you’re fixing me right now.”

“You know what I mean,” Addison shook her head, moving to the next spot of blood. “That’s not how…” she shrugged her shoulders, “...friendship should be, is it? I don’t think that works.” She set the cloth down and popped a cold pack then pressed it to the spot on his cheekbone where he had the most swelling, holding it there. “I’m not here to fix you. I can barely fix myself. I’m just...here.” She met his gaze again, holding his stare and in only a moment she felt overcome. His eyes were always so intense, dark and full of some emotion she could never name. It stirred something deep inside of her.

Addison swallowed. They were so close; she caught his scent, something masculine and spicy, and she could feel the warmth from his body.

She pulled away suddenly, offering him the cold pack but he refused and she turned away. “Maybe that’s what friends do,” she continued. “Not try to change each other, just be there. Equal. At least I consider you a friend. Even if I’m just an evil supe to you.”

His brow furrowed. “You’re not...it’s different. With you.”

“How is it different?”

He was silent for a moment before he answered. “Well, first of all I’m sure I could still take you out,” he gave his signature smirk and she laughed softly.

“I might be getting stronger,” she countered.

“Maybe one day, if you’re lucky, when I’m an old fuck, we’ll be equal in a fight.”

“Hmmm,” she smiled a little and set the cold pack aside while he took another drink. “We’re both getting enough practice in that arena. Maybe we’re equal because we’re both such bad people.”

“Not you.”

Addison had started putting everything away back in the med kit, and she glanced at him when he spoke. She must have had some kind of expression on her face because he quirked his eyebrow.

Honestly? “Well, I don’t think you are either, Billy Butcher. Books and covers and all that. You want some aspirin?” She changed the subject and picked up the little bottle from her kit and shook it. “I’m sure your head is throbbing.”

He took the bottle. “This expired 5 years ago, sunshine.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure it still works.”

“You takin’ any?”

She shook her head. “Painkillers have never worked for me. None of them.”

“Then none for us, eh?”

Addison looked at him a moment then took the bottle back. No use in arguing about that, then she turned to put all her medical supplies away. But one thought kept niggling at the back of her mind and she couldn’t shake it. “Why did you come here?”

“It were close by.” Butcher took a drink, looking away.

“Surely there’s some non-supe someone you know somewhere in the city?”

“Sick of those cunts. Why?” he asked, his patience seeming to wane.

She sighed, setting the kit down again and turning back to him. “Because I haven’t seen or heard from you since Christmas. It’s been almost seven months, Butcher. I called. I -“ She stopped, shaking her head. “I want to know why. I want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

She stared at him. “That you won’t forgive me for what I am. For something I have no control over.”

“It’s not like that. Look...don’t get out of line and we have no problem, yeah?”

She was quiet for a long moment, finally getting up to take the kit back to the bathroom. She didn’t know what to think. Sometimes she did believe him...but in the back of her mind she wondered if there wasn’t some part of him that would always be weary of her and that just made her abysmally sad.

When she came back in the room though he looked comfortable as could be. Even if he did stay away for so long, he was here now, wasn’t he?

“Fine.” She was just too tired to continue this conversation now, and if she was being honest...she wanted him to stay. She grabbed her sweater from the middle of her bed, pulling it over her tank top. “I always stay up after a bad job. Get the bottle and c’mon. We’re drinking the rest of the night.”

She opened the sliding door to the balcony and turned the lights off inside so they could sit in the dark. He followed with the bottle of whisky and an extra glass. They sat for a long time unspeaking.

“So no painkillers, eh? Not even for a headache?” Billy finally broke the silence.

Addison shook her head. “No. Never.” She paused, taking a sip of alcohol, letting it soothe her. “I didn’t really realize until I was about 8. I had surgery. Appendix. Thank God the anesthesia worked but when I woke up...the pain...” she shook her head. “I cried and cried. My father yelled at me for being so weak and such a pain in the ass and I made myself stop. My mother took my pain pills. She made me swear to not tell the doctor and called him for more. I try again every once in a while. Take an aspirin just to see, but it never works. Some supe, huh?”

“Tougher than any of the Seven. If Homelander so much as stubbed his toe and suddenly felt it I’m sure he’d be on the floor blubbering like a baby.”

Addison chuckled. “Maybe.”

“I guarantee it.”

She dared to look over at him and she could just barely see his face in the dim light from the glow of the city. She thought she could see his dimple, and she smiled to herself.

“Don’t be such a stranger, Billy,” she murmured into the darkness.

He was quiet for a few moments. “I’ll try.”

She could only take him at his word, and she knew that. Even so there was something comforting in that. He would try, and she knew he would. She couldn’t ask for anything more, really, and she could appreciate that.

****

They sat in comfortable quiet for a long time, drinking a little, a cigarette here and there. The sounds of the city at night were peaceful in a sort of chaotic way, in the way that some things never change.

This time Billy noticed when she fell asleep, curled up in the oversized chair in the corner, her head tilted to the side against the cushion. He carefully plucked the glass out of her hand and set it aside, then sat back down and finished his own drink.

As it became early morning, a chill came to the air and he glanced over at Addison again. He thought of picking her up to carry her inside but that thought tugged on his heart like no other had in a long time. He knew if he carried her to her bed he wouldn’t be leaving. And if that happened...he knew he would regret inevitably hurting her for the rest of his life. So he didn’t.

Instead he went inside and took the blanket from the bed, carefully tucking it around her. She didn’t stir at all, sound asleep and as he left he told himself he knew for sure he was making the right decision.

Chapter 6

#the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys fandom #billy butcher #billy butcher fanfic #fanfiction #karl urban #karl urban fanfic #h/c #fluff #fanfic

[nightingaelic]

FNV Companions react to being re-united with the Courier after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam (NCR Best Ending)

TW: Blood, gore

As the screams of men, metal and guns petered out, movement on the Hoover Dam slowed. The sun was low, red as the ground beneath it, and the heat rising from the concrete and hundreds of gun barrels gave the area a faint shimmer. Most of the Legion lay dead or dying, their last gasps covered by the sounds of NCR soldiers calling to each other, looking for friends or officers or just reassurance that what had happened was true.

Victory.

Arcade Gannon: Though plenty of the NCR heavy troopers were popping off their helmets as the battle came to a close, Arcade kept his on out of fear someone would recognize him. The Brotherhood of Steel attendees appeared to be of the same mind, so he did his best to linger between the two groups and hoped both would assume he had arrived with the other.

Someone slapped the side of his metal-encased arm, and he looked down to find the courier beaming up at him, gasping like they had just run a marathon. "Hey, Six," Arcade said, surprised. "I thought General Oliver would've packed you on a flight to Shady Sands by now."

"Not yet. How're you holding up in there?" the courier asked breathlessly. "Looks like it'd be an oven under the sun."

"Oh, it is," Arcade assured them. "But it also stopped a few bullets and a machete or two, so no complaints here."

The courier bent over and put their hands on their knees. "I saw Daisy... saw her chopper off with the others after the fighting stopped. Oliver's confused as all hell, he doesn't know who they are, where they came from or where they went, but he's got bigger problems to deal with right now than chasing them down."

They looked up with a grin. "Thanks. Tell them all I said hi."

Arcade laughed. "Will do. And thank you."

"For what, dragging you and your only surviving family into this?"

"Well, yeah." Arcade looked down sheepishly. "Fortune favors the bold."

The courier nodded. "Fortis fortuna adiuvat."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did." They gestured at the broken and scattered weapons and men of Caesar's Legion that lay around them. "After today, we're running low on people who know how to speak Latin."

Craig Boone: Though the other NCR snipers around him packed up their gear and headed toward the dam, Boone stayed put with his rifle until the courier made their way up the rocks to his position. They waved when they spotted him, and he put up a hand of greeting as well.

"And it's over," they said, plopping down to take a seat next to him and dangle their legs over the drop-off.

"Yep."

"Was that you who got that shot in and made Lanius drop his sword?"

Boone smiled. "Mm-hmm."

They smiled back. "Thanks."

The two of them sat together in silence, watching the activity below. Boone's smile grew and grew, wider than it had in years.

"Do you want to go down and join in?" the courier asked, when a group of NCR soldiers started putting broken defenses and wooden Legion weapons into a pile to burn.

Boone straightened his sunglasses and looked toward the horizon. "Yeah. I do."

Lily Bowen: "Pumpkin!" Lily bellowed when she spotted the courier across the dam, leaning on the concrete barrier next to the edge. She pushed her way past several surprised NCR troops, who yelped and jumped out of her path. "Pumpkin, are you alright?"

"Lily." The courier was pale, nursing a jagged wound on their arm. "I'm okay, Lily. I just need..."

Lily barred anyone else from approaching them as they rooted around in their pack. Finally, they extracted a stimpak and jabbed it into their arm, hissing as the medicine found its way into their bloodstream.

Lily inspected the cut carefully. Aside from its ragged appearance and the blood surrounding it, the wound was clean. The stimpak was working its magic, and the redness seeping out was already slowing. "Is that better, dearie?" she asked.

"Much." The courier sighed and leaned back against the concrete. "Legate Lanius had a sword. Not as... as big as yours, but big enough to slice me up when I got too close."

"You rest, pumpkin." Lily sat down on the barrier next to them, careful to hold her hat on in the breeze. "The fight is over now. Leo is quiet again."

"Mmmm-hm." The courier nodded sagely, before turning to face the steep drop below to the bottom of the dam. "We did it."

"How do you feel?"

The courier opened their mouth to answer, but instead threw up over the barrier and into the crevasse below. Lily carefully patted them on the back and produced a box of gum drops from her overalls pocket. "Here. For your breath, dearie."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Courier!" Raul pushed his sombrero back with the tip of his revolver, scanning the battlefield atop the dam. "Six, dónde estás?"

An injured NCR soldier looked up from the curb he was sitting on. "What's a ghoul doing here? He's not with us, is he?"

"Chinga tu madre," Raul swore, pausing his search. "You see the courier anywhere around here?"

"Raul!"

He turned back to the devastated landscape and there they were, jogging through the mess of bodies, shell casings and busted concrete. Raul laughed and spread his arms in relief, in welcome. The courier dropped their gun and threw themselves into his embrace, ignoring the blood and dust that covered his costume. Truthfully, they were just as covered in the battle's detritus as he was.

"I lost you so quickly," they breathed hard in his ear. "No wonder... no wonder they call you the ghost vaquero."

"Mij@." Raul embraced them tightly, then held them at arm's length to inspect them. "You had me worried. I thought I was the one who was going to have to track down twelve mariachi bands to play at your funeral."

The courier grinned. "Still want your medal?"

"Think the NCR'll give me one?"

They made a face at that. "If they wanna give me one, they'll have to give you one, too. Come on. I want to see the look on General Oliver's face when I tell him that you did just as much work here as me."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: A lone NCR trooper stood by the nearest flag pole, hoisting a scrap of fabric high above the scene. Cass could make out the two-headed bear emblazoned upon it, and something in her heart rose. She was still standing there, watching the red star whip in the breeze atop the dam, when the courier made their way over to her.

"Cap for your thoughts?" they asked.

For a moment, Cass tried to find the words for that feeling inside her. When she failed, she turned away from the flag. "Nah. Nothing you don't already know. What next, Six?"

The courier scratched their head and looked around. "Clean-up. Round up the Legion boys who are still kicking, grab everything that isn't nailed down before anyone else does, and pull this place back into some kinda shape."

"And then?"

"And then we drink." The courier pulled out their canteen and offered it to Cass. "But here's a little something for right now. Go on, keep it."

Cass drank deeply. Whiskey, just the way she liked it. "The NCR did good today."

Her traveling companion smiled. "We did good today."

"Mmm, not yet." Cass waved them off. "Don't lump me in with the bear before the work's all done. Ask me later, we'll see how I feel."

"Way I see it, if you had any actual qualms about this, you wouldn't have come," the courier replied with a chuckle. "But I'm damn glad you did."

They'd walked off toward the NCR top brass before Cass could answer, but she let the wind take the words anyway, small as they were. "Me too."

Veronica Santangelo: As soon as the courier was finished speaking to General Oliver, Veronica pulled them away and unearthed a handkerchief from inside her robes to wipe away the worst of the gore from their face. "Eugh. Is this... did somebody explode on you?"

"Hard to say." The courier pulled out their own bandanna and began wiping Veronica's face down in return. "How do you feel?"

Veronica laughed and accepted the help. "Honestly? I'm not sure what my parents would think of me fighting for the NCR, but for New Vegas it seemed like this was the best chance at stability. I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."

The courier gestured at the Brotherhood of Steel Knights and Paladins that were milling about next to and among the NCR soldiers. "Your family doesn't seem to regret it either."

"Yeah." Veronica brightened somewhat. "They actually came. That ought to show both the Elders and the NCR that this, this is possible."

She watched her brothers and sisters from afar, making awkward introductions and conversation with the defenders of the dam and even comparing power armor pieces with the NCR heavy troopers. She smiled faintly.

The courier followed her gaze. "Did you want to join them?"

"No." Veronica looked down at her power glove, flexing the joints as if lost in thought. "No, that's okay."

ED-E: The courier found ED-E stuck beneath a collapsed barricade, where it had been knocked during the fighting by a lucky Legion swipe. They pulled the eyebot out and dusted it off. "You okay, buddy?"

ED-E beeped its reassurance and pulled itself from the courier's grasp, shaking in midair to dislodge any remaining debris. It did one final loop-de-loop to lose a large splinter before blasting its triumphant music at top volume.

Surprised, the courier laughed. "That's right. We did it. We won."

Rex: The chaos around Rex began to fade into the background, overwhelmed by the scent that clung to the courier at his side. A rush of endorphins, dopamine, a whiff of serotonin- Rex didn't know the words, but he knew what they meant when mixed together in that way. Relief. Happy relief.

The cyberdog yawned, signaling his own stress, and looked up at the courier. They noticed his movement and dropped down to his level immediately, running their hands through the ruff of fur around his neck and inspecting his mechanical parts carefully. "Good dog. Good boy. We did good today, you and me."

Under their touch, Rex relaxed. He opened his mouth to pant. It had been a long, hot day.

#dm me your best argument for why the ncr is or isn't the best faction to side with #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #fallout companions react #fallout new vegas companions react #fnv companions react #fallout new vegas companions #fnv companions #arcade israel gannon #arcade gannon #craig boone #lily bowen #raul alfonso tejada #raul tejada #rose of sharon cassidy #cassidy #veronica santangelo #ed-e #rex #ncr #new california republic #tw blood #tw gore #cw blood #cw gore