#and I had no idea how to draw him bc I knew I wasn’t going to do a 1:1 on his original design

[luna-the-cretar]

Yknow, I always wondered why I kept noticing that a lot of Icebound fanartists draw a lot of Jornir, and he ends up being a lot of artists favorite character in general. And like, for a while I didn’t quite understand it.

And then I started drawing him and like. I get it now. That old man is very fun to draw.

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but he’s really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the knees🫠🙏 (anon)

a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing i’ve written. it’s just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad it’s not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She was convinced that Sam’s mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.

He’d already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.

And she didn’t know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel weren’t in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she would’ve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she would’ve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasn’t Sam with her.

He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.

His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.

“Sam- oh my god—” She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.

And then he pulled away.

His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didn’t have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. “What did I say, huh?” The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. “Hands to yourself. You’re pretty bad at listening, baby.”

Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.

“Are you listening?” He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?” She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover — he’d kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasn’t sure which she liked more.

“I’ll keep them there.” She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. He’d gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, “eyes on me.”

Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. “See? You can be good sometimes, can’t you?” Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. “You just need some reminding, don’t you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when I’m making you feel so good.”

She’d been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didn’t realise that he’d freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.

“Eyes open,” his hands left her wrists — which she knew now to keep still — and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. “Don’t make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. “Mhm, I will.”

“You will?” Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “what’s your colour?”

They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out — it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldn’t like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red he’d be up and off of her before she could blink.

But all that left her words was a whiny, “Green, please Sammy.”

She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. “Good girl.”

Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. He’d worked her open with his fingers when he’d been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.

“Fuck honey,” he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. “So tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?”

He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didn’t break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm he’d pulled from her.

He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.

“So noisy baby,” he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” He huffed with another thrust. “Need me to do all the work, hm? Greedy—” he grunted, “greedy girl.”

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up, didn’t give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.

She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.

“Sam- mm- Sammy—” She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.

“Oh honey,” he cooed, condescending, mean. “Too much, hm? Need something?”

His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.

“Please—” she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew she’d tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.

“Please what, huh?” He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so close— “Ah-ah, not yet. Don’t you need to ask me something, dolly?” He squeezed her throat once. “You remember what happens if you cum without asking, don’t you?”

Of course she did. The week prior she’d cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. He’d made such a mess of her that she hadn’t been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.

“Mhm, mm, yeah—” she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. “Please- please can I- please let me—” she groaned.

“Let you what?” He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. “Tell me, honey. Use those words for me, c’mon.”

The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Let me cum, baby, please.”

“Asking so nicely,” he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “How can I say no to something so pretty, hm? ‘Course you can, baby, go ahead.”

It wasn’t his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.

She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.

Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. “Oh sweetheart.” The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? He’d probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.

She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldn’t be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.

Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.

By the time he had pulled away, he’d so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.

“You okay?” His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.

She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like she’d committed him to memory. She had.

“Hey,” he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. “Need words, honey.”

She couldn’t help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. “M’okay,” she whispered, voice soft like she’d shared a secret. “Really good. You’re so good, Sammy.” She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadn’t just been the one to fuck the life out of her.

“Says you,” Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect. Love you,” another kiss. “Love you so much.”

She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.

“Christ, made a mess of you,” he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. “You’re so pretty when you cum, y’know that?”

She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.

Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. They’d need to change the sheets.

“Two options,” Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. “We take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.”

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. “Bath sounds nice,” she eventually settled on. “As long as you don’t take too long in the kitchen. I’ll miss you.”

He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Of course. Promise to not take too long, okay?”

She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. “Okay.”

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[jjscrybaby]

the birthday boy

daryl dixon x fem!reader | fluff | (cringe, cringe, cringe! i can’t help who i am😖basic gift ideas bc i couldn’t think of anything, kissing.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing you were you would never get back was knowing the date. You’d spent the last couple years in the dark, you had a brief idea of how many years had gone by but dates? Absolutely no clue. It was when you and your group got to Alexandria that you learnt they knew the date, they’d kept track; it wasn’t like they were out killing walkers and fighting for survival, so they had the time to do such a mundane thing.

You’d asked Daryl when his birthday was a long time ago, just after the farm fell and before you reached the prison. The two of you were on watch whilst everyone else slept — or at least tried to — and you wanted to know his zodiac sign. It was silly, but you wanted to talk about something that wasn’t the hell your lives had become. He’d muttered out ‘January 6th’, and then gone silent once again. You kept that information stored in the little Daryl section in your mind, and you hadn’t forgotten it.

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl muttered sleepily, waking up to you sitting on him with a wide grin on your face. He opened one eye, looking from you to the window. “The sun ain’t even fully risen. Better ‘ave a good reason to wake me up.”

“I do,” you murmured, leaning down to catch his lips with yours. He didn’t argue, his arms loosely wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back.

“You alrigh’?” He checked quietly. You definitely weren’t the early riser out of the pair of you, in the morning’s that he had to go on an early supply run and tried to wake you to say goodbye he’d usually be cursed at.

“Yeah,” you reassured softly, running your hand through his growing locks. “Happy birthday, handsome.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he let out a soft huh. “Is that today?”

“Yes, it’s today you idiot,” you giggled, pecking his cheek. “Do you want your presents now or at the party?”

“What…” he muttered, eyes widening.

You snorted, swatting at his chest. “I’m kidding. There’s no party. But me and Carol are baking a cake and you can’t say no, I already had to talk them out of finding a birthday banner.”

“Mhm, appreciate it,” he smirked lazily, drawing circles into your thigh. “Can we go back to sleep now, darlin’? I appreciate the birthday wake up, but ‘m exhausted.”

“You don’t want your presents,” you pouted.

“Thought you were kiddin’?” He questioned, leaning on his elbows to sit up slightly.

“About the party, yeah. You really think that I wouldn’t get you presents? Have you met me?” You teased. He smiled softly at you, a quirk of a lip that you were sure no one else was ever on the receiving end of.

“Didn’t even kno’ it was my birthday, so I wasn’t expectin’ presents,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes fondly, switching the bedside table lamp on before getting off of him to rush over to the closet. You pulled out a paper bag, handing it over to him. “I couldn’t find any wrapping paper,” you sheepishly explained.

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, reaching out for your hand. You sat down next to him as he sat up, looking between you and the bag. “You know you didn’t ‘ave to get me anythin’.”

“I wanted to,” you argued. “Now, open it, please. I’m getting impatient.”

He let out a quiet laugh, opening up the bag. First he pulled out a knife; it wasn’t new, or even very sharp — although he’d be able to sort that out — but there was something on the side of it. Both yours and his initials carved into the side. You knew that wasn’t really his thing, something so cheesy, but you wanted his gift to have meaning. It was difficult to find things for anyone’s birthday in an apocalypse, but Daryl? Well, that’s pretty much impossible.

“Thankyou, darlin’.” He ran his fingers over the messy carving you’d done, a fond look in his eyes. “I love it.” He leant in and pressed a peck to your lips, making your eyes twinkle.

“Really? I know it’s not much…” you said, about to go on a classic ramble.

“Stop. I love it, seriously. I ain’t ever— I’ve never gotten a birthday present before, ‘least not one that I can remember,” he admitted, squeezing your hand.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, but you kept the smile on your face. You hadn’t expected that Daryl had many fun birthday’s growing up, not with the family he had. Maybe Merle took him to a bar on his 21st to have his first legal drink, but that was probably it. You kissed the corner of his mouth, stroking his hair.

“Well, now that we’re not fighting for our lives constantly anymore, expect presents every year. Christmas, too,” you said softly.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you,” he responded, caressing your cheek lovingly. He placed the knife on the bedside table, moving to switch the light off.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“Goin’ back to sleep?” He answered, looking back at you over his shoulder. “That alright with you?” He teased.

“But… you haven’t opened your other present,” you explained. There was something in your tone, nervousness, shyness, he wasn’t sure.

“Another one?” He looked at you in confusion.

“Don’t be dramatic, Dar. It’s not like I spent any money,” you giggled. You went behind you, opening the drawer and pulling out something. You held it in your hand, not letting him see. “It’s a bit stupid, but I wanted to give you this for awhile. Since you gave me mine, at least.”

You opened your palm and revealed the silver band, a shy smile on your face. Six months ago, Daryl had gone on a week long supply run and he’d returned home with a ring. It wasn’t like you could have a proper wedding, not like the one you used to dream about when you were younger, but you wanted to marry Daryl. You wanted to tell people he was your husband. So, of course, you’d cried your eyes out and said yes. Ever since you’d wanted him to have a ring, too. Your engagement ring would probably be your wedding one as well, it wasn’t like you could go shopping. If you were going to get married, both of you needed proof of the wedding.

It was silent, you stared at him waiting for some sort of reaction. Slowly, a smile made its way onto his face. “You ain’t gonna ask me?”

“What?”

“I ain’t acceptin’ a ring without a proposal,” he joked.

You giggled, moving to straddle his waist once again. “Daryl Dixon, will you marry me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, cradling your cheek in his hand as he brought your face down to his. “‘Course I will, baby.”

His lips moved against yours, arms wrapping around your waist to tug you to lie down on top of him. You pulled away first, grabbing his hand to slip the ring onto his fingers.

“Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday’s with no one else.”

[michwritesstuff]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

Ok I don’t even know where to begin other than saying that this was my first request! After writing for over 5 years I can’t begin to explain how rewarding it is to know that someone else wants to read your work! Thank you to all of you who always like and reblog my work! Love you forever. And thank you so much for this request, I hope that you love it :)

Just Want To Be With You (Harry Potter: Theodore Nott)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Theodore Nott

notes/warnings: mentions of bad period cramps, draco and mattheo being assholes (love them, but i needed a villain) fluff, and theodore just being comforting and cute, suggestive at the end

word count: 1,300+

You knew it. As soon as you woke up you knew that you had started your period. If the cramps from the day before didn’t tip you off already, they were making their presence known now.

You didn’t always have terrible cramps, but when you did…there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to curl up into a little ball under your sheets.

Alas, the world is unforgiving to women, and you couldn’t skip all your lessons without drawing some attention. Having to explain the inner workings of the female body to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of your priorities. So, you mustered up all the energy you could and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

******

In hindsight, coming to breakfast may not have been the best idea. You were in pain and feeling quite nauseous, barely chewing on your toast as you poked at the food on your plate.

“You alright Y/N?” Pansy asked.

You gave her a weak smile as you shook your head no, gesturing to your stomach in the process. She gave you a knowing look, instantly understanding your frustration and pain.

You hoped that you would see Theo in here, he usually woke up later than you did so you knew it would be pointless to wait for him in the common room. Yet the lightly curly-headed and blue-eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Malfoy and Mattheo whispering and giggling brought your attention back to the table.

“Look at Potter with that know-it-all mudblood, we’re going to wipe the floor with Gryffindor at tonight’s match.”

Now you weren’t exactly friends with Hermione Granger. She seemed nice enough from the lessons that you had shared with her, being a know-it-all was a pretty accurate description of her. But Malfoy was always a complete minger.

“Don’t use that word,” you spoke up, surprising the boys whose giggles and large smirks turned into sharp stares.

“What was that Y/L/N?” Mattheo spoke up.

“I said not to call her that,” you spoke again, more strongly.

Malfoy smirked before speaking again.

“What, are you friends with the mudblood? Why didn’t you just say so Y/N.”

“SHUT UP MALFOY!” you exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ you’re no fun,” Mattheo stated under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, are you on your period or something?” Malfoy teased.

That caused both boys to laugh, along with a few first years seated a few feet down.

You got up quickly, storming out of the Great Hall. You could barely hear Malfoy doubled over in pain after Pansy had elbowed him in the stomach.

As you made your quick exit you bumped into a large figure.

“Love—”

It was Theodore. His bright smile dropping as he took in your state. Your face had reddened from the embarrassment and light tears filled your eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just want to get to class early.”

“Ok, I’ll come wi—”

“NO!” you said, a little quicker and aggressively than you intended.

“You have a game today; you need to eat. I’ll see you in class," you smiled softly, reaching on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Theodore watched as you left, a sad frown gracing his lips as he continued into the Great Hall.

******

Your lessons went by as smoothly as they could, despite the stabbing pain in your abdomen.

Theo was as supportive as he could be, you hadn’t exactly told him much. He knew something was wrong, but he knew better than to pry. You would tell him when you were ready.

As you walked back to towards the common room Theo swayed your hands back and forth. You looked up at him, giving a soft smile before your eyes dropped to the ground again.

“I’m going to grab my robes then stop at the great hall for a quick snack before heading to the pitch,” he told you.

FUCK…you forgot he had a match tonight.

“You know, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind if I just stayed here?”

Of course it would be ok, Theo would never make you do anything that you didn’t want to.

 You loved going to his games and supporting him. He’d give you your favorite quidditch hoodie of his and look to the stands to see you cheering and screaming louder than anyone.

“I—Yeah…Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just not feeling too hot,” you smiled weakly.

“Good luck tonight, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You hugged him tightly before giving him a soft kiss and walking up the stairs to your dorm room.

******

Hours had passed and you could assume that the match was over and Slytherin had won from the cheering and chanting that echoed up the stairs from the common room.

Your cramps were relentless. You took a steaming hot shower, and while the pain had subdued for a short moment, it had returned.

You were currently in the fetal position, clutching your stomach as tears fell from your eyes, your transfiguration textbook thrown aside as your homework was long forgotten.

Too caught up in your pain, you hadn’t heard when someone entered your room.

Theodore was terrified to find you curled up on the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying to your bed.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, turning your head to face him as he made his way over to you, your gaze softened.

“How was your game?” you asked.

“Y/N, enough. Please love, what’s wrong.”

There was no more hiding the pain, you were literally curled up in front of him.

“I’ve had the worst cramps all day and the pain just won’t go away. I tried to do McGonagall’s assigned reading, but I just couldn’t focus,” you said as the tears began to fall.

Theodore moved your books to the floor before moving you slightly so he could sit next to you.

“Why didn’t you just say so love? You know my mom makes that special tea.”

“I—I was embarrassed. Malfoy and Mattheo were being mean, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t overreact. You have every right to feel how you do right now. I’d like to see Malfoy have cramps. I’m sure he’d be even more insufferable than he is now.”

You chuckled softly at his statement.

Theodore always had a way of making you feel seen. He was your boyfriend of course, but he was also so much more than that. He was your best friend. Everything between you too was effortless, he never made you feel like a burden. You felt silly thinking that you were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently.

“Just want to be close to you,” you whispered softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Now that I can do,” he said as he stood up.

“Theo, no, where are you going?”

Without answering you, he walked across your room and pulled his hoodie from his bag.

As he returned, you sat up slowly. Reaching for the hoodie he shook his head.

“Arms up.”

You happily complied and let him put the hoodie on you, pulling it on completely before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

He shifted you away from him so he could cuddle up behind you. Pulling you close, he rested his hand on your stomach, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

You pushed your body back slightly, wanting to be as close as you could to him. He inhaled slightly at the friction before tightening his arm around you.

“You know, I remember reading some muggle article that says sex supposedly helps with cramps.”

“Oh shut up” you laughed.

“I’m serious,” he laughed with you.

Turning your head slightly so your lips could meet with his, you gave him a quick kiss before pulling back.

“I love you Theo.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

[arias-archive]

i need more Lyrason content! Can you do a fic where Graysons confronting eve and Lyras there too (bc why not) PLEASEEEEEE

a/n: IM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY ABOUT HOW LONG THIS TOOK. IT WAS SUCH A HARD FIC TO DRAW UP IDEAS FOR BUT I HOPE U ENJOY THE FINAL PRODUCT

warnings: the grandest games spoilers

description: the clock is racing, and they must find gigi. but grayson has a pretty good idea on where his sister may be

tig masterlist | masterlist

wherever you go, I’ll follow (a graysonlyra fic)

Nothing. 

Not a single trace.

It seemed impossible. Hawthorne Island itself was tiny and completely surrounded by water, the chances of getting onto the island without detection was impossible. Yet, Gigi Grayson was just gone, vanished into thin air.

Nobody noticed at first, too busy devising up plans and strategies or resting before the second phase of the game began. It was Grayson who became aware of his concussed sister’s disappearance. He went to go check on her but she wasn’t in her room, and after asking the other contestants for her whereabouts he realised she wasn’t anywhere. 

The last three people to see Gigi after her concussion were Nash, Brady and Xander. All of whom had left her in her room. Xander did mention that one of the last things Gigi asked him before he left the room was if they ‘had until noon’, but Xander didn’t question further.

That enraged Grayson. He couldn’t believe Xander hadn’t pressed the matter, but that might’ve been his fears for Gigi talking. They searched everywhere, twice, before bringing it to the gamemaker’s attention.

With help of the gamemakers and their cameras, they managed to scrape up the blurriest footage of Gigi standing on the edge of a cliff, her profile only visible from the side. She was facing the ocean, clutching a neck in one hand while speaking. The camera only picked up bits of the distorted speech but it was hard to clarify, so Xander took it upon himself to try and clear the words. 

Nash, Grayson, Jameson, Xander, Avery and Lyra were all crowded into the control base, watching on-screen Gigi launch the necklace into the frothy waves angrily. The wind whipped her chin-length waves around her face as she seemed to just wait. The rest of the room seemed to just pause too, waiting to see her next movements. As the brunette turned, something lunged from behind her, pressing something against her mouth. 

The entire room collectively gasped as Gigi fought back and was dragged off camera. Nash skimmed through the other security feeds hastily but they appeared on no other screens. Gone.

Lyra brought her eyes up to Grayson, her heart stuttering at the fury and fear etched onto his tense face. She laid a hand on his shoulder but he barely seemed to acknowledge it. Jameson definitely noticed it though, shooting a quick questioning glance to Avery before returning to help Xander with the audio. 

Lyra shook Jameson’s glance off with a shrug. Whatever. They had more pressing matters on their hands at the moment.

They all decided it would be best to split up. Avery and Jameson stayed behind on the island to watch over the rest of the players and continue to search the island, while the rest of them flew back to the mainland, hoping to find something there.

Lyra had never flown in a helicopter before. She knew she should be focused on more urgent issues, like finding Gigi, but she couldn’t help her awe.

She’d read about helicopters and flying in her novels, but nothing could beat the real feeling of soaring through the air, heavy winds whipping her face. She could freak out about this later. 

 The rest of the Hawthorne brothers were deep in concentration, but Grayson looked extremely frustrated. She laid a tentative hand on his arm, hoping to provide her silent comfort. She shouldn’t even be here, on this helicopter, searching with them. She should’ve been back on the island, with the rest of the players who were under lockdown, but Grayson had simply said that she could stay, and that was that.

Grayson didn’t even look at her, still deep in thought. He clearly noticed because she felt him tense up, beneath his vintage suit. After a few moments, he brought her hand down, intertwining it with his own.

Lyra almost startled at action, eyes widening. She didn’t expect him to do that. She couldn’t help the small upturning of the corners of her lips though. They hadn’t discussed their position with each other after that kiss in the woods. She didn’t think they were just teammates though.

 Lyra could still feel it, the sinful press of his full lips to hers, devouring it skilfully. She never had time for proper relationships before. It wasn’t like she had never kissed anyone before, of course she had, but not like this. It never meant anything before. 

She gave Grayson a small, almost hopeful smile, as she squeezed his hand. She wanted him to be calm, to be every inch the Hawthorne she knew he was. They would find Gigi, and they would bring her back. 

Nash and Xander had clearly noticed their entwined hands because Xander looked ready to combust. It was Nash’s warning glare that kept Xander contained. Lyra ignored them too. Weird. 

———————————-

Once they touched down into Texas, they split up once again. Lyra was pretty sure Xander and Nash drove back to their mansion. Lyra was supposed to be going back and searching with them, much to Grayson’s demands, but Nash levelled him with a look that reminded her that he was still the oldest brother. He told Lyra to stay with Grayson and that they’ll go back.

She didn’t know what it was. As soon as they stepped foot on the ground, it was like Grayson had been punched in the gut. His whole body tensed up and he just gestured for Lyra to follow him.

Lyra looked around at his brothers for an explanation but they just shrugged, and Xander was still wearing that stupid grin. When Lyra turned back around to accompany Grayson, he had already walked about a hundred steps.

His back was turned, his suit blazed rustling in the wind, and he had his phone pressed to his ear. Whoever it was he was speaking too, it didn’t seem like a friendly conversation. 

But in the next ten minutes, Grayson and Lyra were seated in a beautiful car, speeding to who knows where. Lyra had been silent up until then, but she really needed to know what was going on. 

She turned her gaze away from the road to face the blonde Hawthorne driving the car. His face gave nothing away, no hint of the underlying frustration or fear he might’ve been feeling.

Lyra cleared her throat before asking “So… where are we going?” 

It was silent for a few moments and she was convinced he was just flat-out ignoring her. But he took a breath before replying, “I have an assumption about where she could be.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I just hope I’m incorrect”

The way he issued that statement, meant that, no, he was not wrong and he knew that this was exactly where she was. Lyra only nodded before turning back away again. 

She had more questions, hundreds of them, but she knew she had to give him some space. The man was looking for his missing sister. 

But Lyra didn’t have to ask him because a few minutes later, he told her, about Eve, about her relation to his adopted uncle Toby, about the Blake family, about running into her in Arizona. She had a feeling he was keeping quiet on certain details but that didn’t matter. Her head was spinning. What? Just… what?

She didn’t even know how to respond. But she suddenly understood why Grayson might assume that Eve was holding Gigi captive. The only thing Lyra was unsure about was if Gigi really was there. She could still be on the island, or the mainland surrounding it. Their perpetrator, someone called Mattias Slate, only had an hour’s advantage against them, so he very well could’ve brought Gigi here, but did he?

The Blake ranch was near the Texas/Oklahoma border, sprawling for miles. 

As soon as they stepped foot out of the car, they were instantly surrounded by guards. Lyra froze, turning to face Grayson who was issuing very pointed threats. The stupid soldiers wouldn’t budge. That was until a voice broke through the crowd. 

“Let him through.”

The soldiers parted to reveal a smirking girl, her amber hair fluttering in the breeze. Eve. 

As soon as Eve caught sight of Grayson, her lip curled up. She looked like a cat closing in on its prey. “Hello Grayson,” she said, her voice quiet but melodic. Then her gaze caught onto Lyra’s and her eyes narrowed, igniting with something that Lyra thought looked pretty close to jealousy. She hummed in thought before turning around, strolling towards the ranch. “Hawthorne comes through,” she called and Lyra could practically hear the thrill in her voice. “Not the girl.”

Instantly, the guards were on her, grabbing her arm to lead her away. She wrenched her arm away from their grasp, cursing. 

“Get your hands off her.” Grayson’s voice was low and dangerous as his arm curved around Lyra’s waist. He practically shoved them off her before turning back to face Eve, malice in his gaze. 

“We both come through.” 

Eve raised a haughtily brow, and Lyra thought she would tell security to remove them both from the premises. But she didn’t. She just shrugged, unable to tear her gaze from Lyra. “Fine.”

————————————

The room they were led to was cold, the sofa stiff beneath them. They were still dressed in their stupid masquerade outfits from the ball, as if the were antique dolls plopped into the wrong setting. 

“Where is she?” Grayson cut right to the chase, his body rigid. If looks could kill, there was a very high chance Eve would be dead right now. Remembering what Grayson told her about his involvement with Eve, and the look on Eve's face when she seen them together, she intertwined their hands, squeezing some of her strength into his. 

She felt a manically giggle claw at her throat at the flash in Eve’s eyes. Lyra had to give her credit for not lunging across the table yet, staying elegantly settled on the seat across from them. 

“Where is who?” Eve asked curtly, giving a small shrug. That only made Grayson angrier. 

“Don’t play games,” Lyra spat suddenly, her unflinching stare baring into Eve. This wasn’t her territory. This wasn’t her battle. She was supposed to come as silent support, but she just couldn’t.

 Lyra had to wonder what Grayson saw when he looked at the girl whom he might’ve once loved. Lyra had to wonder what Eve thought when she looked at him. Maybe in another life, Lyra should’ve felt jealous about what the two had once shared. But she didn’t. Lyra wasn’t even sure what her and Grayson were but she knew that no matter what, she was going to help him find Gigi. The same way he promised to find answers about her father. 

“And you are?” Eve trailed her eyes up and down Lyra’s body, making a show of judging her. Lyra felt plenty of sharp retorts rise to the surface but she had to bite down her tongue because Grayson answered first. 

“None of your damn business,” he seethed, suddenly standing up and inching towards her. Lyra stayed seated, watching the scene play out. “I’m not here to answer questions based on your petty jealousy. So where is Juliet?” 

Eve looked up at him, and for a second Lyra swore her gaze softened ever so slightly. “Why would she be here?” 

“You want to hurt me, and my family.” Grayson shot back, arms folded stiffly. 

“Not everything is about you Hawthornes,” Eve snorted, picking at her nails. She also stood up, coming face to face with Grayson. “I have no idea where your sister is Grayson.” 

“I’ll destroy everything you have,” Grayson swore, his anger palpable between them. “I’ll take everything-“

“Do it.” Eve’s voice was sharp and unsettling, her face twisted into a disgusted scowl. “There’s nothing left for your family to take.”

Grayson took a step back, as if afraid his control was slipping from his grasp. “Do not blame my family for the choices you made.” 

Eve only advanced towards him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Lyra felt sick just watching. “But I didn’t deserve to be left alone. I have nothing that is mine”

She knew Eve would love to make him play puppet. Because Grayson would do anything for his sisters. 

“What is it that you want?” Grayson’s voice was quiet, a hint of pleading in his tone. Lyra was shocked. She’d never heard the Hawthorne boy exude anything but power. “In return for Juliet?”

Now Lyra stood, crossing over the room to stand beside Grayson, reminding him that she was here, in his corner. She would fight with him. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

Eve withdrew her hand sharply, cradling it as if it had been burned. 

She took a few steps back, tilting her head to assess the pair. Her face lit up with an evil grin as she barked for security. 

“What do I want…” she sighed, tapping a finger onto her pointy chin as if deep in thought. “Oh I know.” With that, both Lyra and Grayson froze up, their hearts beating wildly because whatever look Eve had on her face was unmerciful.

“Admit to the world exactly what Avery Kylie Grambs and her team did to Sheffield Grayson.”

[saltylandland]

I want to draw this but idk how to draw nsfw plus, busy, so here is a list of ideas, also I’ve been following @weebsinstash for awhile and I just think you’d be into this :)

Your dearest friend (and co worker) confesses that she’s the main heroine of this world, she got randomly sent here from her world, in her world this place is a romance game. She says regardless of if you believed her she was telling you the truth and-

You nodded yes, and not because you were a loyal side character, but bc you knew. After her confession you get a flood of memories of a different world, and a detailed retailing of the world you’re in.

Your friend, though she is bland by design, she is radiant and an unforgettable presence, despite not being able to remember her face even after just facing her.

The story, about an emperor with a curse. The entire castle keeps the secret, all families have been working there since the empire was first founded. Cult like loyal to their (admittedly really competent) emperor

Your friend, what was her name again? No- that’s not the point. Her goal, the goal of the game, was to tame the emperor's curse by existing, something no one had ever been able to do.

Face multiple challenges like the jealous empress, make your way through the fanatical loyalists and get closer to the emperor. Rise from empress’s handmaiden, to imperial consort, to empress herself!

Your friend whispers to you that she can tame the beast that prowls though the castle at night, and that she’s going to soon.

(The emperor becomes extremely aggressive with sharp claws yada yada, unfortunately no monster fucking this time tho)

But when that night arrives, she fails. You find her corpse before anyone else does. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, she was supposed too- her body was collected and buried and it was almost like she never existed. Not that she didn’t have family, but like a spell the mysterium of the heroine fades away seemingly with no impact, she was just another victim of the beast.

With a new sense of fear, and with new memories, no loyalty to this empire, you were hatching a plan to leave. The night you were scouting out a path, with the excuse of chores on the night shift, you run into the beast. He was supposed to be chained up?!?

you are tackled to the ground, the emperor is on top of you. Opening your eyes you see him nuzzling your neck, shallow breaths fanning across you. You panic, this was supposed to happen to your friend not you. You can predict it now, he’ll turn into like a lap dog how embarrassing-

RIIIIIIIIIIIP- suddenly he rips your bodice down the middle, exposing your breasts to the cold air.

————

You try to avoid it but he keeps hunting you down and mounting you.

One night you hide away in the deepest parts of the castle, since you had been searching for a place to hide all day (and the beast fucked you all night) you fall asleep

Waking up to a gentle rocking it takes you a minute to process that you were now under him taking his cock

—

Then on one of the nights he does it in front of servants and they tell the empress who then calls you into her office, reader who is already planning to leave is scared you’re gonna get executed

The empress tells you that this is your job now, using your body to ‘tame’ the emperor bc there has been no incidents otherwise

This is a complete 180 to the empress from the game. She also insists that the emperor cannot know that he’s fucking you every night, as he is a decent man and he’d feel guilty, and to prevent you from getting pregnant she will supply you with potions to prevent that. And there is no other choice (not said but heavily implied) Now you are being treated as the unofficial concubine which the empress seems to dote on, your official title is the empress’s handmaiden/confidant

It is later revealed to you as you unwillingly get closer to the empress that though she loves the emperor (they grew up together) she doesn’t really care for sex (either cuz she’s lesbian or just ace) and once she got pregnant with their heir, their sex life basically stopped, tho they didn’t have an actual conversation, the emperor could tell she wasn’t into it and didn’t push her

Bonus points if she’s telling you about what a good man/husband he is for not pushing her/making her take care of his needs like that while he rearranges your guts.

Later later you find out that the emperor realized what was going on, but since it prevented him from hurting anyone he went along with it. And now since you’re so close to the empress, both of them start to fall and become yandere and now you have the most powerful couple who want you for themselves ❤️

Also, quick idea for an ending, he starts regaining control of himself as basically his and the beast’s goals become the same, and he starts loving on the reader even before nightfall and so the two personalities begin to blend and he’s cured! How wonderful! But now you’re the official concubine congrats! What? You don’t want it? Too bad! They want you! Also good luck making it out of the castle as everyone their views you as the emperor’s saviour.

[scekrex]

Nsfw, Adam breeding tran!reader and dirty talking but in a gender affirming manner like 'I'm going to make you a father', 'I hope you're ready to be a daddy cause I'm going to put a baby in you'

Breeding kink my beloved. I feel like Adam's totally into the thought of fucking a child into someone (reader in our case) but actually wanting kids? Fuck no. He had to take care of his kids in the past, ain't no fucking way he wants more

Spin round quick rock yo body

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, vaginal sex, no use of female privates though

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam’s nails dug into your skin as he pushed your hips flush against his own, pounding into you like it was the only thing keeping you alive, like he’d die the moment he’d stop crashing your hips together. You were breathing heavy and so was he as he kept fucking his dick into you, drawing the most glorious sounding moans from your lips that the first man had ever heard - how could a single person sound so divine, so perfectly pure and yet so nasty at the same time? A question Adam would never get an answer to, not that he minded.

“Fuck,” the brunette on top of you huffed as he tugged on your hips to get them closer, his body was acting on instincts and the words left his lips before he could give them a second thought, “Gonna make you a fucking dad, babes.” And your body seemed to like the sound of that, because as soon as those words had fallen from the most perfect lips in all of heaven, a loud moan of the first man’s name was your answer to his plan. You met his thrusts halfway through, high on the thought of Adam breeding you - the fact that you were able to get pregnant had never felt as arousing as it did in that exact moment, the opposite had been the case. It had always given you dysmorphia, so the fact that your mind actually liked the new kind of dirty talk Adam tried was surprising to both of you.

“Imma fill you up with my fucking cum ‘til you can’t take more ‘nd make sure to fuck a goddamn baby in you,” the brunette continued, very visibly enjoying the idea. And while in the back of his mind he knew that winners weren’t able to get pregnant and actually give birth to children, the sheer thought was able to keep him going. It’s not like he had an unfulfilled child wish or whatever - he had children after all, not that they all turned out the way Adam had wanted them to, but he had children of his own and one thing he knew for sure: he didn’t want nor need any more children to take care of, it was worse enough that Sera asked him regularly to babysit Emily - as if the little seraphim wasn’t able to take care of herself. So this was all just a fantasy and it would stay that way - but it was a welcome fantasy, one that you seemed to enjoy just as much as Adam himself was enjoying it, if the noises you were making was anything to go by - for Adam it was and so he kept up his probably new favorite form of dirty talk. “And you’ll take it like the good fucking bitchboy you are for me, aren’t you?”

Your head was pressed firmly against the sheets underneath you, not by Adam though, your body did that to itself. Hips arched you cried out for more, answering his question with desperate cries and by begging him to fill you the fuck up. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it, you felt your orgasm creep closer, felt the built up in every little muscle of your body yet you found yourself unable to tell Adam so and when you came around his dick only moments later, lubing the first man’s erection with your cum, Adam let a deep moan slip from his lips, slapping your hips lightly, “Fucking needy whore, what will our fucking kid say when he fucking finds out that his dad’s a horny slut for the first fucking man?” The words weren’t with you, the ability to speak had been taken from you by your orgasm and all you were able to do was to look up into shining golden eyes that contained a gigantic amount of lust, you were sure you could drown in those magnificent eyes of his - Adam’s eyes had always been so stupidly beautiful to you, why you didn’t know, probably because you loved him very dearly though.

It didn’t take Adam very long to stay true to his words, with a harsh thrust he buried himself deep inside of you, lighter thrusts followed quíckly as he kept fucking his seeds deeper into you, “I’ll fucking make sure that shit stays inside of you until you give motherfucking birth to my brat.” And how you loved the thought of that, of having Adam’s cum inside of you for as long as he demanded. “Fuck yes,” were the only words you were able to voice before your brain started to fog up with that beautiful post-nut-haze. The brunette on top of you kept fucking his seeds inton you and you doubted he would stop any time soon, that man was on a mission now, no matter if God had made it impossible, Adam’s lust and his nature to reproduce were both kicking in like crazy and that man would do a fucking lot right now to fuck an actual child into you, so he keot rocking his hips against yours. The pace he had set was less brutal and harsh than before. Given Adam’s usual pace this was actually able to be considered soft - well, it surely was soft enough to let you fall asleep. The first man of course noticed that and was quick to change positions without leaving your insides empty for even as much as a second. He pulled you flush against his chest, dropped himself backwards until his back hit the soft yet sweaty sheets and was quick to wrap his wings around you to keep you warm, a blanket simply wouldn’t do. His hips however, continued moving.

[owatazumi]

Ok this is a ff idea for Heeseung or maybe the whole hyung line…but I kinda wanna see how they would react to catching you singing in different scenarios

For example: Hee = u were laying in bed with ur headphones in. Jay = u were cooking. Jake = u were drawing/writing. Hoon = u were in your room dancing and thought u were home alone.

(Doesn’t have to be exact…I was just giving u some ideas)

enha + reader best friends/relationship getting caught singing no warnings a/n: thank you squoxie for this cute request, omgomg i really hope you enjoy it !! i added all the members bc i feel like i don’t do headcanons and stuff like that enough so here you go !! hope you enjoy it nonetheless<3

heeseung and you were on the way back home, the windows rolled slightly down, the breeze hitting softly against your face as you tap your foot to the song that hee put on… «i hear the secrets that you keep, when you’re talkin’ in your sleep» and as soon as you start singing along to the song, heeseung couldn’t help but smile at you in such a tender way. he liked the song and he especially liked you so this just made the whole ride home better…

“i never heard you talk in your sleep before, you know? maybe because you don’t hide secrets from me…”

jay had been bugging you all week long to cook with him sometime, telling you that it would be a great way to bond further so eventually you give in and agree to his idea. a playlist of his and your favorite songs was playing in the background as you two run around the kitchen in a hustle, occasionally bumping into each other, maybe on accident, maybe not… «꼭꼭 숨었다가 웃으면 나타나, 어디서 온 걸까» but as soon as you started singing to dimple, jay stopped everything he was doing to listen carefully to your beautiful voice…

“i told you it would be great to cook together and i’m glad you agreed or i wouldn’t have heard your beautiful voice…”

jake was pretty busy with his game, not paying much attention to what you were doing so you made yourself comfortable on his bed, softly humming and singing to the songs you put on that you found when he went with you through his playlists one time… «come closer, i’ll give you all my love, if you treat me right, baby, i’ll give you everything» and needless to say, he was immediately thrown out of his gamer mindset as soon as he heard your voice singing along to falling. jake turned around in his chair, putting down his headphones and made himself comfortable beside you on his bed, cuddling close to you as you chuckle softly since he was accidentally tickling you…

“this song reminds me of you… i always have to think about you when i listen to it and im absolutely not complaining.”

sunghoon and you felt a weird craving for some snacks in the middle of the night, silently making your way to the kitchen to not wake up the other members. while he was rummaging through the shelves, searching for something that might interest him you were snacking on your cereal, phone in your hand, scrolling through socials as you sing a random song… «i want you to know, that if i can’t be close to you, i’ll settle for the ghost of you, i miss you more than life�� sunghoon froze as soon as he heard you singing so softly, his heart doing jumping jacks. he noticed that you probably didn’t even notice that he heard you so he carefully sneaked up on you, looking over your shoulder with a soft smile…

“that wasn’t too bad, was it? mind singing the rest of the song for me?”

sunoo wanted to have a movie night with you since he had a few days off and he wanted to spent some time with his best friend again. you actually knew one of the songs that played in the movie so you couldn’t help but sing along, feeling all excited about it… «우연히 너의 메일을 알게되면서,모니터 앞에 널 밤새 기다릴때» and sunoo immediately started singing along with you, smiling brightly as you two started swinging side to side slightly, vibing and even harmonizing to i think i did together…

“i’m so glad we chose this movie! i really like this song and it’s much more special when we enjoy it together, right?”

jungwon had one earbud in his ear and you had the other one as you two walk along the river, the sky freckled with bright stars. he didn’t seem very focused on you, he was very relaxed, just enjoying the moment as you two casually walked together… «i knew it when i first read your lips, only angels speak like this» as if out of reflex, both of you turn your heads toward each other, your gazes connecting as the stars shine down on you…

“i’m glad you know this song too… it would be embarrassing if i told you that i think of you when i listen to it without you knowing the song.”

ni-ki wanted you to come along to one of his late night practices, the vibes were different and you had the whole studio to yourselves so nobody was interrupting or annoying. you were both vining to one of the songs that he recommended you to play, laughter and chuckles echoing through the room as you two enjoy the time together… «sippin’ bubbly feelin’ lovely, livin’ lovely, just love me, just love me just love me» ni-ki had to stop for a second, mesmerized by both the way you moved so comfortably, trusting him enough to just dance however you wanted and the way you started singing along to the song as well…

“not bad, i have to admit. maybe we should do this more often, what’d ya say?”

<33 @squoxle @echoofnoise00

[gortashs-skidmark]

I heard some podcasters talk about mouthwashing and yea yeah yeah great game but they didn’t understand why Polle was chasing Jimmy. They hated the horse sequence bc they didn’t get it.

I feel like the corporate greed aspect plays in a lot but it’s not an overbearing theme. That rep wasn’t even overbearing but it played a good rep of what Jimmy felt.

Jimmy does not treat Anya like a person. He doesn’t feel guilty about what he did to her, he only feels guilty for the consequences. he’s only worried about her baby which he hallucinates as a horse amalgamation.

He’s more worried about his job, than his actual actions.

Polle is a representation of the company. Polle trails him in a scene you play out, Jimmy is only worried about himself and what the company will do to his career. No matter if the job is already going to end at the end of the expedition because freighters like the Tulpar are going out of service. No matter if he took the job of captain but can’t even use the control pads. No matter if he got what he wanted from curly and curly suffers and is now seen as an object that’s just barely surviving. (The ableism of the game is a whole other post away) If he’s labeled as someone who abandoned a kid, out of wedlock, had an accident, it could ruin his chances of a “normal” life. No one really says “you raped her, Jimmy” but he knows. And they know.

He didn’t have the axe, and I feel like curly kinda made sure of it by giving it to Swansea. Anya knew who he was deep down and that was destructive of others and himself. Curly let him do his own thing to make it better which was destroying part of the ship. And curly only realized the full extent of Jimmy’s monstrous personality which made Curly suffer. Anya knew the extent. And now they both suffered.

I’ve dated men who are scared of having their careers ruined with allegations but they are not the men who are assaulting anyone. Though, these same men hate it when I say “I hate men” and they say “not all men” and I say “can you show empathy instead of making it about yourself?” (Not actually but I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain myself) I shouldn’t have to explain that it doesn’t apply to you.

It’s like saying

“I hate pitbulls”

“Not all pitbulls are bad”

“But my experience with a pitbull was bad”

(This is not true, just an example. I love pittie breeds, one of my fav. But I wouldn’t invalidate someone who had a bad experience with the breed. Just listen and validate them for how they feel, their own journey is their own journey)

Jimmy wanted power so bad. He wanted what he thought he saw Curly getting, which was unwavering respect. Jimmy only had an idea of how he wanted to be treated. He didn’t know how to get respect, we see this with Daisuke’s “Yimpy” drawing. He’s a joke, he’s too self serious, he’s antisocial. Curly is his friend because curly puts up with him, which enables all of his behavior. He’s not teaching Jimmy anything. Jimmy had that hate love friendship bc of curly who wasn’t self loathing or instigating competition with Jimmy for who was better or more miserable.

Curly under the grates and gazing at him. Curly is under him, and haunts him. He doesn’t escape his own actions. And Polle will see that. The company will look at all his actions and will not say “good job” and Jimmy knows.

That also plays a theme of “you cannot love or be friends with someone who hates themselves” because ultimately at some point they will resent their other half. A much smaller thing to get out of mouthwashing but you know.

Swansea was not happy with his life, and neither was Daisuke, but they didn’t blame themselves for being unhappy. They didn’t blame others either. Their own problems were their own. Swansea even celebrated his sobriety with shoes instead of self loathing, getting yourself a treat is self love.

[car-o-line]

Hey there!! I hope ur doing well :3

May I req Toya, Akito and VBS Miku (separately) with a reader who likes to draw them a lot? Like to the point they have a whole seperate sketch book dedicated to drawings of them ^^

Have a nice day and remember to take care of ur self!!!!!!

ur so kind what the flippy flap- honestly thank u for ur kindness it literally makes my day!! I swear I turn into a literal iPad kid whenever I play pjsk it’s not even funny😭

Toya, Akito, and VBS Miku with an artist reader who draws them a lot

VBS Miku:

She always knew you liked drawing, you drew all the time. There almost wasn’t a time where she didn’t see you draw.

You often went to Sekai to get inspiration for your art, coincidentally she’d always be in the area when you’d started sketching.

Sometime later she gave into her previous curiosity and straight up asked you what you were drawing.

You stared at her with hesitant(or what she could only assume), but soon got over it and shyly turned your sketch book around to show her what you drew.

It was a simple sketch of her chatting with Meiko while she was sipping on her coffee, she almost thought it was the finished draft because of the detail. The hanging zipper from her jacket, the reflection of the sun in Meiko’s sun glasses, and the shadows of a bickering Len and Rin in the background.

“Whoa Y/n, this is incredible. Didn’t know you admire me so much!”

She spoke in a teasing tone, she started to flipping through past pages and saw just how many pictures you drew of her. Of course, it wasn’t only her, pictures of Meiko, Len, Rin, Kaito, and Luka were littered throughout the sketch book. But none had appeared as much as she had.

There was a warm feeling that spread through her heart as she stared at the many sketches, for some reason she felt loved in a sense. She did before of course, but that made her feel all the more loved.

She quickly pulled you in for a tight hug, just for a moment before realizing what she did and gently let you go.

After that she’d randomly start posing whenever you entered Sekai, just to give you ideas for your next drawing.

Shinonome Akito:

Being the noisy prick he is he’d find your sketches of him quite easily.

He knew you draw, he’s even taken the liberty of calling you the groups “Ena.”(bc she draws and like ykyk😭)

So on that one fateful day, you just were sketching the said noisy prick, he was in the midst of singing but suddenly saw how you subtly kept eyeing him then returning back to your drawing.

Literally had the audacity to stop practicing and ran straight towards you to see what you were up to.

“Hey Y/n! Whatcha keep staring at me for- oh? Damn…got my good angle and everything.”

He grabbed the book from the table and started flipping through it despite your efforts to take it back.

Started to actually rate each of them through 1-10 on how good his outfit was that day.

After his searching he proudly slammed the search down on the table and ruffled your head aggressively kindly.

He told you next time you draw him and he wasn’t wearing a good outfit to just come up with one and pretend he’s wearing that.

Aoyagi Toya:

Didn’t find out until you accidentally left your sketchbook out on the bar counter.

Listen he’s a man of respect so he’s not like a certain ginger who just digs through your belongings.

He was watching the An and Kohane practice for an upcoming concert for the 5 of you, still being aware that you were in the same vicinity as him. He asked you why you weren’t practicing with them but you just said it was too early to sing and continue to doodle in your sketchbook.

He’s always wondered what you drew in there, but he never asked because he doesn’t want you to get embarrassed or something.

But suddenly you just told him that you had to use the restroom and ran off…with your sketchbook open.

Now I know I said he’s a man of respect and won’t dig through your belongings but the page was literally right in front of him. He could see it as a whole. The drawing was a man, a man with a jacket, oh wait that looks like him.

Never confronted you about it, when you got back from the restroom he just snapped his head the opposite direction of the sketch book.

You still don’t know that he saw it, but that night he definitely kicked his feet and giggled like a girl(istg)

[itzchrissydoesstuff]

🍞You Don’t Have to Hide From Us👑

(A Silly Trinity one shot)

Synopsis: (kind of a sequel to “Umbrella”) The sillies are outside drawing and painting when they eventually run out of ideas. That is until SwaySway suggests him and Buhdeuce should paint on Michael’s Vitiligo spots, which Michael is happy to allow them.

Content warning(s): angst (but not for long), insecurity, fluff and comfort for the most part

Author’s note: Ya’ll might wanna get those tissues for real this time. Also, this was inspired by this video I saw one time while scrolling through YT shorts :3

——————————————————

*Neverland Ranch*

The sillies were feeling very artistic today. However, because it was a really nice day out, they decided to go outside by the water fountains and paint there. They spotted a nearby tree and set their materials down, took a moment to admire the weather and view, and got to work.

“No matter how many times we come here, Michael, we’re always so enamored by the wonder and beauty of Neverland.” SwaySway said as he took another look at the lovely sight in front of him and the others.

“Thank you…” Michael replied with a soft smile, focusing on drawing on his small canvas sitting on his lap. “Neverland is so special to me and I’m happy to share its magic with the both of you.”

“Aw shucks!” Buhdeuce chuckled. “When we’re here with you, Mike, the fun never ends!”

Michael beamed at the ducks’ sweet words. As much as he knew how they can cause some trouble at times, he also knew at the same time how much of sweethearts they are and were always right by his side. The three had been through so much together, Michael was always thrilled to go on adventures with them bc they always knew how to keep him on his feet.

Half an hour had passed and the trio was pretty much finished with their paintings on their small canvases. On the count of three, they revealed their artworks and displayed them to each other. Words of admiration were tossed around, the trio’s eyes lighting at each other’s pieces. Soon after their praise subsided, the three started to think about what to do next since they were still feeling creative.

“So… what should we make now?” Buhdeuce questioned.

“I’m not sure. What’re you thinking, Michael?” SwaySway turned to look at Michael.

“Hm… I’m honestly not sure myself.” Michael shrugged, then looked up at the sky.

The trio kept thinking for a few minutes until at one point, SwaySway turned to look at Michael again, except he was looking at something specific about him. Michael was wearing a short sleeve shirt today, which showed his Vitiligo spots on his arms. It wasn’t everyday that Michael wore something other than his long sleeve shirts or jackets. Sway thought for a moment, until…

“YO-REKA!! I have an idea!” SwaySway perked up, a brilliant idea in mind. “What if… Buhdeuce and I can paint Michael’s Vitiligo spots! That is… if you’re okay with it, Michael.”

Michael was caught a little off guard by SwaySway’s idea. Especially since this was a day where he decided to willingly show his Vitiligo by wearing short sleeves. He knew the ducks would notice, but didn’t expect this surprising outcome.

No one’s ever asked me to let them paint my Vitiligo before… Michael thought to himself. Then again… I did decide to be brave and show it today. Besides, they’re my friends. I know they’ve got something special in mind.

“Hey, Michael…?” Buhdeuce chimed in, knocking Michael out of his thoughts. “So, you wanna do it or what?”

“We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable” SwaySway was a bit worried he had offended Michael. “It was just an idea. I’m sorry if-“

“No, it’s okay.” Michael spoke up. “I’d be happy to let you guys paint on me.”

SwaySway and Buhdeuce grinned in delight and gathered the small bottles of paint, paintbrushes, and their pallets. SwaySway sat beside Michael on one side, Buhdeuce on the other. Taking a good look at the brown spots on Michael’s arms, they brainstormed ideas of what to paint.

“Hm… I’m really feeling flowers. Sunflowers, to be specific.” SwaySway envisioned the paint in his head. “And for the spots, I’ll add some blue outlines.”

“Great idea, Sway!” Buhdeuce smiled. “For me, I’ll paint a bunch of happy smiley faces! And maybe some red outlines around the spots”

Michael looked at SwaySway and Buhdeuce with a wide smile on his face. He was so intrigued by what the ducks were thinking of painting. Soon, the two ducks added fresh new colors of paint to their pallets, dipped their paintbrushes in the colors, and started working their magic.

A couple minutes had passed by and as Michael held very still, he couldn’t believe the work of art he was seeing being created on his arms. Sway and Deucer were carefully adding the paint, making sure every detail looked its very best.

Michael spoke up, careful to not move too much. “Thank you for doing this for me, you guys. You’re both so sweet and creative.”

“Of course, Michael.” SwaySway continued painting little sunflowers on Michael’s right arm.

“Yeah! We’re having tons of fun doing this.” Buhdeuce giggled, adding cute little smiley faces on Michael’s left arm.

Michael looked down a bit. “Do you mind if… I get vulnerable real quick? I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Sway noticed Michael look down. “Yeah, you can. It’s just the three of us, so we have all the time in the world. Everything okay, bap?”

“What’s on your mind? We’re listening.”

Michael took a deep breath, took a second or two to put his words together, and began to speak again.

“I’ve always been insecure on how I look, especially when it comes to my skin condition. At one point, it was spreading so much, I used so much makeup to hide it to the point it would stain the inside of my rhinestone glove…”

The two ducks continued to listen as they painted. They couldn’t imagine how much pain and trouble Michael went through with this condition, especially in the entertainment industry.

“…at one point, on the set of ‘You Rock My World’…” A tear streamed down Michael’s face, his voice breaking a bit. Sway and Deucer immediately noticed and set their materials down to comfort him. “…I heard that they wanted to do something to change my skin for the short film. I locked myself in the bathroom and just started breaking everything in there before crying my eyes out on the floor.”

SwaySway and Buhdeuce could not believe what they were hearing. This poor man, this angel has been through so much pain and trouble over something he can’t control. He never wanted to be judged for how he looked, but to be treated like the human being that he is regardless of it.

“I’d say more…” Michael wiped a tear from his eye. “But it’s already too much to think about…”

Then, Michael suddenly heard small sobs and looked up to see both ducks with tears streaming down their faces, tiny sobs escaping their beaks.

“Th-that’s just…” SwaySway’s voice broke. “…That’s just terrible, Michael.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through something so troubling like that.” Buhdeuce sniffled. “Why can’t people just be more accepting??”

“That’s a question I ask myself sometimes, Deucer.” Michael looked at Buhdeuce. “I hate feeling like I have to hide all the time out of fear that I’ll be hurt again.”

“…but that’s why you’re friends with us, Michael…”

Michael turned to look at SwaySway, who had a still sad, yet slightly determined look on his face, meaning he was about to go into one of his epic pep talks.

“As friends, as a Silly Trinity… we have nothing to hide from each other. Even if it’s something that we all may not agree with, that doesn’t mean it’s over for us. I mean, Buhdeuce and I have been criticized LOTS from others, but despite how much it hurts, did that stop us from being our authentic, quazy selves? No way!”

SwaySway still held Michael’s hand as he spoke. Every sentence was filled with words of encouragement. Buhdeuce was still sitting on the other side of Michael, holding his other hand. Even he was captivated by SwaySway’s words.

“No matter what, Michael… you don’t have to hide from us. You don’t have to worry about being judged by us because we could never do that. And I know we all have our comfort zone and it can take a while to step out of it, but we’ll wait as long as it takes and cheer you on and support you in the meantime. You’re our bap, Michael. But most of all, we’re a trinity!”

“YEAH!! The Silly Trinity, to be exact!” Buhdeuce blurted out all of a sudden. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“See, Mike?” SwaySway was finishing up his pep talk. “You’re not alone, and never will be. Besides, you’ve got others who love and care about you so much as well. As for those who don’t, they can step on a Lego or something.”

All three of them burst into laughing from that last bit. Finally, a smile spread across Michael’s face. He couldn’t have been any more happy and proud to have his two duck friends by his side.

“Thank you, SwaySway…” Michael said softly. “You’re both so kind. I’m so glad I can be myself around you two and not care what others think.”

“Anytime, MJ. We all have our flaws, but that doesn’t make us any less unique.” Sway grabbed a nearby napkin from their material box and handed another one to Buhdeuce. “Here. Since you can’t use your hands at the moment, we’ll wipe your tears for you.”

“Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it.” Michael grinned as the ducks gently wiped away their bap’s tears before finishing up and wiping their own tears as well.

“There you go! All better.” SwaySway then looked over at Michael’s arm to see the unfinished flowers and outlines on his skin. “Now… how about we finish up painting, yeah?”

“That would be great. I’m sorry this took so long.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You needed to get some feelings out. No biggie. Now, let’s continue, shall we?”

“YEAH BOYY!!”

Soon, the ducks began painting again. It took a little time and patience, but eventually…

“Finished!” They both shouted in unison.

Michael looked at his arms, a look of joy on his face as he observed the sunflowers and blue outlines on his right arm and the smiley faces and red outlines on his left.

“These are so wonderful, you guys!” Michael couldn’t wipe the wide smile off his face. “Thank you so much. You’re both so talented.”

“We’re so happy you love it, Michael.” SwaySway grinned, feeling proud.

“Yep yep! With or without paint, though, you are a true work of art, bap.” Buhdeuce chuckled.

Michael was flattered by their words, his self confidence a bit stronger in that moment. He was so grateful to have SwaySway and Buhdeuce by his side. They’ll hype him up any chance they get, even during the most toughest of times.

“I think we should do this more often.” Michael said as he continued admiring Sway and Deucer’s masterpiece on his arms. “Who knew that having my spots highlighted and brought out more would be so enjoyable.”

“You don’t gotta tell us twice.”

“Yeah!! Embrace that beauty, bap!”

Michael giggled at their enthusiasm. Luckily, the paint had pretty much dried now, so Michael extended his arms, gesturing for a hug. The ducks’s eyes lit up as they scooted closer to Michael, all of them now in a warm embrace.

“Duck hugs!!” They all shouted as they held each other close, feeling safe and loved in each others’ arms.

——————————————————

Written by ChrissyDoesStuff

‼️DO NOT STEAL‼️

I love these sillies so much, it’s not even funny! This was a little bit longer and angstier than I expected, but it was worth it! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Love ya’ll :3 💕✨

[green-typewriterz]

hey there :) ! fun idea: cowboy/sheriff sam winchester in some southern town, maybe the reader could be a bandit and they repeatedly run into each other (maybe sam lets them get away at times, like it’s half rivalry half admiration) but there’s some creature around that forces them to work together ? fluffy end too bc I’m a sucker for riding into the sunset endings

Raise Hell

Cowboy!Sam Winchester x Bandit!Fem!reader

summary: 1800s AU - you’re a bandit, Sam’s what the Sheriff would call ‘a demon hunter’, they just happen to come by your camp

Warnings: injury, mentions of guns, demons, its the 1800s…so…, timeline may be weird, no specific season

Author Notes: this was much longer than I intended but enjoy. Also i know this is u H, i recognise your typing style

word count: 4046

You sighed as you walked past the third wanted poster with your face on it that morning, tearing it down while whispering a, “they never get my nose right.” To yourself. You continued on your journey, assuring yourself and your horse, Songbird, that there wasn’t that much longer to go.

After hours of travel, you set up camp a ways out of a town, staying in the shrouds of the shadows. You didn’t need any townsfolk spotting you and handing you in. You were sitting at the fire, eyes watching the skyline as the wood spit ash onto the floor by your feet, almost like a warning.

There would be a passerby every now and then, but no one important enough that you noted anything particular about them.

“Evening Ma’am.” A voice called, tone harsh and strong like the old folk singers. You looked up, but kept your hat low on your head, covering your face in the same deep blue of the sky.

Two men stood in front of you, broad shoulders and polite smiles. You knew who they were, of course you did. The Winchester name was well known across most of America, though you were never sure how much of it was legend. You decided not to take any chances. You nod to them silently, not sharing the same courtesy to smile back.

Sam spoke next, sounding a lot less irritated than his counterpart. “You wouldn’t mind if we rested with you for the evening would you? Our horses are tired and so are we.”

There was silence for a moment as you thought. You should say no - it was in your best interest to do so. But they hadn’t seemed to recognise you yet, and, with the bandanna you had quickly pulled over your mouth, they shouldn’t for the rest of the evening. You nodded once more.

Dean sighed at your silence but sat anyway, opposite the fire from you so he could try and see your face better - something you were trying your hardest to not let happen - while Sam went and hitched their horses next to yours.

”She’s beautiful.” Sam said to you, gesturing to your horse. Songbird was a full black shire horse with a large white strip along the nose. She was certainly flashier than was wise for a bandit, but you got her when you were young and you’d rather die than part with her.

You smiled and stood, heading over to the three horses. “She’s smart as hell, my best judge of character.” Sam laughed gently, looking over at you as he petted the blonde horse in front of him. You tried not to speak too much - though you weren’t sure how recognisable your voice was, you didn’t want to risk it. Sam stared at your hands, noticing how a large scar pulled its way along your palm - unusual in shape.

”Same with my Riot, he’s an Arabian so he’s pretty judgmental. Dean’s is the worst though, Baby’s so temperamental it’s almost impossible to get anything done” You smiled and looked over at the sleek black Hanoverian - you noted how well kept it was.

You both made your way back to the fire and sat, refastening the clasps of your boots to save you doing nothing.

The sun had fully set by now and night bit at the fire, causing it to settle into embers. Sam leaned against a tree, and you assumed he was sleeping while Dean sat opposite, his eyes still trained on you as if you would draw your gun.

It seemed as though he had planned to calm down when a series of cheers echoed across the valley. Both of you looked up, eyes sharp. You’d recognise the voices anywhere and you’d wager that the boys would too. Dean ran for his horse, not bothering to wait for his brother and rode after them.

You woke Sam quickly and headed for Songbird, apologising to her for the loud noises. The two of you rode after the older officer, but soon realised that you were being circled by the gang. You signalled to Sam to take a different route, but he was too focused on his brother and was quickly knocked off his horse by a bullet to his arm. You pulled to a stop and got out your pistol, Shooting at the bandits as they passed. They didn’t want you, nor Sam really - they just wanted to cause chaos.

Your shots rang as a warning and the gang cleared out, leaving you, two scared horses and a bleeding officer who would most likely arrest you given the chance. “Dean.” Sam called out but you silenced him, putting pressure on his arm.

”Shut it. You’re brother’s probably alive.” You spoke quickly, helping him to stand. Using a mix of his own strength and yours, he climbed onto the back of your horse and held his arm tight around your waist. You gripped the loose rein of Riot’s leash and headed back to your camp, quickly and quietly.

When you returned, you found your camp ransacked. Food was missing from your bags and small smoke clouds trailed from the now put out fire. They didn’t want you to find it again, which most likely meant they’d be returning for the rest. You’d have to be gone by the next evening.

Sam was pale and his eyes were fluttering every so often. You were warm and it was hard to breathe so with a sigh you pulled the bandana from your face and wrapped it around his arm, securing the wound and partially stopping the blood flow. Luckily, the bandits hadn’t had time to go into the packs in your tent and you smiled in relief when you pulled a large bottle of whisky from it. You poured some over the injury then took a large swig, wincing at the bite of the alcohol.

You’d let Sam sleep for now. He could get proper medical care when he returned to the sheriff's station, hopefully without you in handcuffs.

Sam was lucky in the sense that he got sleep that evening, something you weren’t so blessed with. Fatigue pulled at you and you found yourself playing with the remaining hot embers to stay awake - though they were dwindling by the minute. Eventually, Sam woke and sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion.

”Morning.” You said simply, sending a nod his way. He groaned in pain and turned to face you, good hand pushing his hair from his eyes. Now your bandana was off, Sam had a good chance to look at you.

His eyes narrowed, taking in your features. “I know you from somewhere.” He said gently, voice raw from pain and sleep. He wasn’t wrong.

1870

You were standing still behind a wall, one hand inching toward your pistol and the other holding money you were currently attempting to steal. It would’ve been an easy escape, you could’ve ran, called your horse and been clear of the town before anyone noticed but the new ‘specialist’ that had been travelling through Texas had to get in the way.

He tackled you to the ground, pulling the money from your hand and pinning you with minimal force. “Ow.” You said with annoyance, trying to move your hand so you could reach your blade that hid in your waistband.

The man’s gaze was stern as he kept you pinned against the hot sandy floor. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice harsh with suspicion. You sighed and turned your head to the side so you could actually breathe and rolled your eyes.

“Is it any of your business?”

“Ow.” He replied, mocking you. You stared at him, finding it unusual how a man of his profession had such long hair, which was cut into a small fringe and was falling slightly over his eyes. He eventually relents and allows you to stand, hand resting on his pistol as he places cuffs on your hands.

He took in your outfit, noticing how you wore dark denim and black leather, the only thing standing out was a red bandana. You certainly looked like a bandit.

You sighed and held up your hands, looking at the handcuffs in annoyance. “Seriously? You’re gonna cuff me? How are you so sure I’m a criminal?” You asked, voice bored - this had happened far too often to be entertaining at this point. He went to reply, when a deep voice yelled his name.

Sam.

He turned, breaking into a sprint and leaving you cuffed there. “You’re not gonna-” You began but sighed, realising he wasn't coming back and walked grumpily toward the abandoned blacksmith’s saw - not a good idea in retrospect, but it got you free.

1872

Sam walked idly into the sheriff’s office, hand reaching up to remove his Stetson when he saw you, sat in the gaol with your arms leaning on the bars. You were wearing a lighter shade now, mostly donning browns and blues, though the red bandana was still safely tied around your neck.

“You don’t seem very good at your job.” He said, smirking as he walked closer. You looked up at the man, sighing when you saw him. His hair had grown longer, sitting gently by his chin.

You leaned back in the seat and the cuffs on your feet clink, “I’ve been a bandit since ‘65…and I’ve been caught twice - though I’m not counting the first since you didn’t technically arrest me.” You replied, staring with boredom at the dirt under your nails. He nodded in response, reasonably impressed at you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, him watching you with tired but amused eyes and you fiddling with the cuffs around your ankles. Sam’s eyes were drawn to your hands, seeing the large red scar that ripped over it, shining slightly on your palm.

Suddenly, a loud gunshot rang through the sheriff’s range and the both of you sat up straight. A large group had planned an organised attack on the station and, much to your luck, it gave you a proper chance to escape (one which you accepted gratefully). Sam had seen you climbing quickly onto your horse, but he had more pressing matters at hand - at least that’s what he told himself.

1876

He sat in the bar, head in his hand as he played with the whisky glass in his palm - the ice creating a cold film over his fingers.

It was like something from a novel, the way you stood in the doorway, a perfect silhouette. You stepped into the light, looking overly annoyed at nothing in particular and Sam almost didn’t recognise you. The lace gloves on your hands looked as though they itched and he was surprised you could breathe in the corset,, but you looked…different, all the same. It seemed as though you didn’t recognise him either as you took a seat next to him at the bar, signalling for something (anything) to drink.

“Bandit?” He asked, eyes stuck on you. You turned slowly, recognising the voice. He had certainly changed, in fact, he almost resembled a man, though his face was still slightly too young for this to be true.

You smiled, sipping your drink. “Sam. And it’s Y/n.” you replied, sending a nod his way. Sam replied with the same courtesy and furrowed his brows, looking at the amount of skirts and ruffles that you wore. You took notice and sighed, fiddling with the outer lace. “Not my choice, too difficult to run in - but my brother chose the dress code for his wedding and the jacket wasn’t acceptable.” You complained, voice tired.

He laughed, though noted to himself that you had kept the bandanna around your face - no doubt the pistol was still hidden somewhere.

The two of you drank for a long while, sharing short stories (you trying to keep the more illegal details out) and talking about your brothers. However, it seemed as though all of your meetings would be short-lived.

“Ma’am.” A voice called, stern and unwelcoming. It was a voice you recognised (you had taught yourself to remember every voice of every Sheriff in the state…for your own convenience). You shared a look with Sam, you’d been recognised.

You sighed and agreed, standing and leaving the bar. “I don’t doubt we’ll see each other again, Sam.” You said simply, heading back toward the wedding.

1883

“Hello.”

Sam turned, smiling as he recognised you. You were back in the usual attire, red bandanna seeming more red than usual…if that were possible. You were standing, leaning against the wall with one hand lazily resting on your belt.

He found himself smiling. “I should technically arrest you,” He stated, standing in place by his horse. You grinned in reply, moving closer to him with a simple smile.

“Who cares about technicalities?”

You kept your hand on your holster, the other by your side, mirroring his pose. Your eyes moved to his hand, noticing how his fingers twitched in some sort of anticipation (though you weren’t sure whether he was going to arrest you or something much more exciting). Sam’s head cocked to the side, following your every movement with an unreadable expression, then he almost whispered, “wasn’t it fun though, me putting you in handcuffs?”

Sam had aged rather drastically in your few years apart, his jaw was harsh and square and his hair flicked, slowly but surely nearing his shoulders. He was broader too - before he had been young and as lean as a six foot four man could be but now he was all muscle, large shoulders and strong arms. He looked built for the job now. Sam’s scarred hands played over his belt buckle and your eyes flitted over it, seeing a small star sigil with a circle wrapping around it - something you recognised.

A smile played on your lips and you moved away again, fingers tucked through the loops of your jeans. “Smooth,” you spoke lazily, then turned just before you reached your horse, adding on, “but yes, it wasn’t too bad.” He laughed gently and you climbed onto Songbird, leaving him staring after you yet again.

1884

“Bandit.”

You smiled, nodding your head lazily. “Is my name so hard to forget?” You replied almost snarkily, a hint of something else hidden in your tone. You leaned down, wrapping any spare cloths you had found around his injury - you knew better than to remove the bullet.

Sam laughed gently, voice slightly weak. You looked up, brows furrowed in confusion as he spoke. “I just find it a funny sight…a bandit fixing up a ranger.”

You smiled too, now, shaking your head gently - you tried to ignore his wince as you tightened the scraps around his shaking arm. “You’re not really a bull though, are you?” He shook his head in response, sitting up slightly as if it would be a task to explain what he does.

”No. I’m more of a…specialist?”

”Oh, so a hunter.”

Sam went silent, almost in a state of shock - he wasn’t sure how to reply so instead he resorted to a simple nod and you went back to bandaging him, talking absentmindedly. “I am too, technically. I’m just more… illegal about it.” You spoke and he laughed, nodding once more in agreement.

You finally leaned away from his arm and sat by the completely extinguished fire, eyes stuck to him. “How about we go searching for your brother?” You asked, arms crossing. He moved closer to you and began to set up the fire once more, prompting a confused look from you.

”We’ll go in the morning, it’s not safe to travel now. I wouldn’t be able to fight in case anything happened.” He replied, adding, “a days more rest.” You nodded and leaned back against a large rock, eyes lidded as they flitted over to the slowly growing fire.

The night had grown dark, flurries of rain filtering through the deep blue sky. You were still awake, running your hands through your hair softly. Sam was sleeping, as soundly as you could with the annoying, spitting type of rain running down your face. It picked up after a while and under the harsh cover of night you could swear you heard the beating and repetitive sounds of hooves against wet sand.

You were, unfortunately, proven right and the very same bandits from two nights ago stormed you, coming back for what they had left. You knew you couldn’t leave Sam behind and resorted to a good old fashioned knife fight. If any gunshots were heard, they didn’t wake Sam - this type of noise was far too familiar in Texas.

You managed to fend them off until they gave up, but garnered a few nasty cuts on your arms. It was something you’d handle later on. Rain beat down now, choking you and you’re not sure what’s water and what’s blood in the dark.

The sun rose again - as it had always done - and your role of tending the fire dwindled to watching it die as Sam awoke beside you. “You’re hurt. How?” He asked, leaning close. Both yours and his wounds seeped in unison, weeping at each other for retribution.

”It’s usually the job description of a bandit to be hurt.” You replied, declaring to both him and yourself that it was no one's business. He didn’t relent.

He drew nearer, hands twitching in want - to help you as you had for him. Though, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to speak on the matter and moved on to something much more pressing. “Dean is alive. Back in town I’d wager.” You looked over, glad he had moved on.

You raised a brow. “And you’re sure how?” He allowed your confusion, offering a sort of explanation for the matter.

”His horse, if he had been hurt, Baby would ride straight back here.”

“What if Baby’s dead.”

Silence. No one had ever offered the idea. No one liked to think their pet would die. “That damn horse is invincible. Keeps on going. It’s been two days, they’re back in town.” Sam assured, watching you poke idly at the sand.

You nod and stand, brushing the dirt off of your knees. “Let's go meet him then.” You said simply, heading over to your horse. The knife wound on your thigh tugged at your movements and you tried to brush it off, hoping the limp wasn’t too visible.

The air was heavy and humid, ripping air from your lungs and sitting hot against your skin. “What happened?” He asked gently as the two of you headed in the direction of the town. Sam’s eyes lingered on your skin, tracing over where sweat stuck your clothes to you.

”It was nothing, a few of the bandits came back. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You replied, pulling your collar away from your neck in irritation. The heat had risen with impossible speed and for once you were happy that your bandanna wasn’t secured around her neck. You leaned against Songbird as you rode, skin damp.

Sam watched from beside you, noticing how quiet and calm you seemed. “And you’re not bleeding out? I can help-“

You shook your head. “No need. I don’t want you to return any favours,” You looked at him with a smirk, “I might need a ‘get out of jail’ pass some day.” He laughed, turning back to the open path.

As if sent from the heavens, the wind picked up and cooled your skin, blowing warm air across your body - though you would’ve appreciated a cold breeze, this’d have to do. The morning had become midday, sun high in the sky and air foul with an uncomfortable smell, when Sam stopped still, both him and Riot seemingly staring off at nothing.

You came to a stop too, listening. Watching. “What?” You whispered, but then you saw it, so far away it could’ve been a speck. The breeze, the smells. It was a demon. There was a quick nod shared then the both of you took off toward the old barn. It was the only thing for miles and you were both sure that no human could live out here without supernatural assistance.

Sam usually would’ve taken time to plan, but he had been hunting this thing for far too long and irritation had whittled his patience down. He took the blade from his belt and pressed his back hard against a half-ruined wall while you went around the back, a bottle of holy water you kept in your pocket securely in your hand.

Of course, it had been expecting you, and your ambush was more of a self-sacrifice. Your back hit the barn wall harshly and you hit the ground, the holy water falling a ways away. Sam was next to fall, blade being ripped from his grasp. You sat up, groaning in pain and looked over. It was a man, one who had clearly been a bandit.

Pain ripped through your thigh and you looked down, seeing the stab wound tearing wider than it had before. You turned your head to the side, seeing the demon fighting Sam. He certainly had the mis advantage however and was moments away from his own knife entering his chest.

”Hey!” You yelled, standing up again. The demon. You wiped the sweat from your brow and pulled the colt from your waistband. “Christo, bitch.” You pulled the trigger and the demon crumpled to the floor, a mess of sinew, blood and demon ash.

Sam stood, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow. “Nice shot.” You nodded at him and walked back out the barn, your limp much more pronounced - something you could’ve expected.

——

The both of you reached town, ugly stains of red littering your clothes and skin. Dean was standing on the porch of the Sheriff's station with bruises of his own - though his weren’t as frequent and had nearly healed. He pulled his brother into a fierce hug, hand pushing the back of Sam’s head into Dean’s shoulder (if he had seen Sam wince he didn’t take note of it).

You watched from a distance, leaning next to your horse tiredly. Before you could turn to leave, cuffs were placed around your hands, guiding you away from Songbird. You looked up at the Sheriff with angry eyes, voice harsh and raw from fatigue, “I just saved your boy’s life. Multiple times.”

Sam looked over, brows furrowing as he saw you being led inside. He would’ve followed - he had all intention to - but Dean held him back with a harsh grip against his palm. “Sam. She’s a criminal.” There was a wager in his mind: he wanted to do the right thing - to free you, but a more guilty part of him won. He didn’t want to disappoint his brother. Sam turned away and your eyes tracked him in disappointment, though you know you shouldn’t have expected much.

Night fell fast, and the usual heat of Texas was replaced with splintered wooden floors, a sticky yet icy breeze and cold metal bars. You picked at your nails, trying to clean any remaining dirt out from underneath. Your weapons had been seized and without both them and your bandana you felt exposed.

You were just warming up to the idea of getting comfortable when a shadow covered the moon light that streamed through the windows, one with broad shoulders and a Stetson. The door of the cell swung open slowly, quietly and the shadow stepped to the side. “Go to your horse and leave.” The shadow whispered.

Sam.

A rough hand placed a piece of red cloth into your palm and a soft breath tickled against your ear. “Think of it as me returning the favour.” Through the filtered moonlight you could see Sam’s face, the old bottle windows scattering the night scene across his features like glitter. You smiled gently and leaned forward, placing a kiss to his lips. It was something slow and gentle, something memorable.

But then, you were gone, leaving no trace that you had been in the cell except the opened handcuffs and the sharp, yet fleeting smell of cherries and tobacco. Sam found himself smiling.

[kmcosplays]

Do u have any angsty mphfpc hc youd like to share :3

OH BOY HOWDY DO I EVER! well they're not all angsty. But I have a document of all my headcannons I will post under this . They're mostly post cannon headcannons.

Jacob

The kids once saw him chase a gator off with a broom and were like wow Florida is wild 

Beyond his cannon love for classic rock he really likes bands like Joji, greta van fleet, Ricky Montgomery (soft boy bands and more emotional stuff)

He later in life gets tattoos 

Some for his grandfather and one that looks like a hollow tongue 

 He’s bi

Him and Ricky had a slight thing together

They mostly cuddled while playing video games and sat together on the beach or on a dock and would hangout and drink 

He never said anything to his parents 

His mom would be cool with it 

But if his dad knew he would be mad 

He knows spanish but like a hs amount 

His grandpa still practices judaism 

His dad said he switched out of love but it was hate for being raised that way and hate for his dad 

Decent at drawing from spending time alone as a kid

Alcoholic dad and workaholic mom

(scorpio)  that’s cannon but he fits it so well 

Emma 

In the modern world she really starts to like the cute and simple girly look

She makes her own skirts and sweaters and people think it’s the coolest

She accidentally bought a crop top and thought something was wrong 

She had to return it because it was too much for her and Ms. Peregrine freaked out  

She’s a swiftie for LIFE 

Jacob gave her tapes with her and a few other artist he thought she’s like along with a tape player

She has to ask or look up some of the more modern things in the song but more  modern people are willing to help.

She quickly has the words memorized to a few of taylor's albums

She also loves a good romcom

pinterest  QUEEN 

Hc voice: Alice from alice in wonderland 

Bronwyn 

Is a cottage core grily ( only bc it reminds her of the past )

Loves that some modern young people still love making homemade food and clothes 

Chills with the old people at the craft store and pretends to not be older than them

Isn’t super into modern things 

Took up a babysitting job

Makes toxic men feel small at the gym 

Once broke a machine and ran out crying 

Lesbian and he brother was gay ( not bc she’s strong bc of things she says in cannon )

Group mom (kinda cannon )

Very round and soft face and a button nose 

Voice hc: she sounds super welsh and has a very soft voice 

Millard 

Long hair and super skinny with TONS of freckles if he was visible 

He doesn’t see his hair so he never cuts it

He only cuts it when he can feel it on his shoulders but even then it’s a struggle 

But he is vaguely aware of how he looks 

But he does keep it in a man bun or a ponytail if he doesn’t feel like having it down or he’s reading a map

Sometimes they will just see a floating hairband or headband 

He once let Bronwyn and Emma put makeup and a wig  on him to see what he looked like ( based on a mha comic)

  It did not go that well 

It made olive cry 

He kept in touch with Lilly

He set up an email and they talk all the time

He visit her occasionally visits her but sometimes he brings a stand in so she isn’t talking to nothing Its noor 90% of the time 

Sometimes him, lilly, noor and jacob go on double dates 

He attends her concerts and loves it 

The first time he heard Lilly sing he loved it 

They tried the makeup and a wig thing on a date and it wasn’t too bad mainly bc he had on a face mask and sunglasses 

He keeps tabs on all his favorite peculiars and visits them regularly 

He is ace ( he just gives me ace vibes idk )

Voice hc: he has a super deep voice ( someone gave me this idea and I loved it ) he also has a thick scottish accent (kinda like the in audiobook)

Lilly could sit and hear him talk for hours 

Both to hear his accent and to hear him talk about stuff he likes 

He once described to Lilly  and Noor what he looked like

Then with the description lilly made a drawing or a picrew of him

He loves when people come to him with questions 

Not because it makes him feel smart but because he is glad that they want to learn something 

He takes up a teaching job in the peculiar world

Olive/ claire

Are both in awe over kids toys of the modern world 

But are confused by some of them

Kinda both like modern stuff 

Claire learning about Claire’s and thinking it’s magical and loving it 

Mainly for the name and also for the glitter and toys 

She keeps telling the workers that her name is Claire 

Jacob takes her on a birthday shopping spree there one year and she goes WILD

Claire looks and sounds like Shirley Temple and old people tell her DAILY

It gets to a point where she has to look up who she is 

She couldn’t agree more 

She then keeps acting like Shirley Temple and will sing animal crackers in my soup all the time 

Jacob blames himself for getting her that dvd box set ( you know the one that would blast on tv at 1 am yeah that one )

Olive is more of a slight tomboy

Olive keeps wanting to join sports but has a hard time with getting led filled  tennis shoes. 

She eventually joins a soccer team for peculiars that work with all kinds of accommodations 

Neither of them are huge fans of more modern kids tv but they do both like the older stuff

Jacob shows them older 60s and 70s kids tv and that seems to be more their speed 

Hugh/ Fiona

They move out and have a small place together 

They have tons of plants and a small garden

They eventually get married soon after the events of DoDA

Fiona works at a flower shop 

She doesn’t really care for too much modern stuff 

Hugh only really cares for things he can use in the modern world 

Even back in the loops he would smoke to keep the bees calm if they got out of control 

That mainly started in Devil's Acre and when he thought he wouldn’t see Fiona again bc his bees were going wild 

Enoch stole a cigarette off him once and hugh found him hidden from him in a corner somewhere (complete goblin mode)

After threatening to tell Ms. P he just laughed and let him keep it and lets him take some as long as he asks

Fiona hates it because she doesn’t like kissing him afterwards

Seeing her again has got him to slowly stop 

She also hates kissing him after he’s had coffee

But she doesn't mind too much and he still gives her cheek kisses with his coffee breath

The bees hate coffee but he doesn’t care  

Him and Fiona could sit and drink tea all day especially with fresh honey and flowers 

Voice hc: Hugh for pintofplane on tiktok and looks too 

Fiona has a small and high pitched voice and a thick accent 

Hugh thinks it’s super cute 

Noor 

Gets a ton of tattoos 

Some based on V and her loop

Still visits Lilly with Millard 

Is pan

Uses they/she pronouns 

In the way of using they for anyone who gets it they ask them to use just they/them but lets older peculiars and Ymbrynes get to call them a woman.

Goes to as many of Lilly’s concerts as possible 

Teaches Enoch about being punk along with Ricky helping 

 Voice hc:  thick NY accent and a bit more masc ( kinda deep and a bit gruff) sounding Iman Vellani look hc

Horace 

Kinda still dresses the same and people just think he’s into vintage stuff

Slightly warms up to more modern fashion after learning more 

Isn’t into some modern fashion but slowly grows to like the more classic and fancy stuff

He cries and sits on the gucci website and stuff

They all pitched in and got him something once for his birthday

It was like a pair of really nice and designer socks or a belt or something 

He basically keeps it on display and only wears it for special occasion 

He’s gay (kinda cannon )

He doesn't really get too into modern lgbtq+ culture because it's too foreign to him

But he does adopt the gay flag ( the og rainbow one ) and has a small one in his room and one as a lapel pin

Does adopt the 30’s and 40’s american lgbtq+ symbolism like lavender and saying things like “ friend of Dorothy” 

But he loves that modern men actually dress nice(ish) and take care of their skin and aren’t afraid of more feminine things 

The only modern tech he loves are modern ovens, high tech sewing machines, embroidery machines and the canon ones like fabric softener and modern landry tools 

When he gets older he goes out with Enoch 

They date on and off over the years but eventually stay together after a year or so of being on again off again 

Gets a job later as a tailor and love it 

Enoch 

Becomes a punk asap

Ricky and Noor teach him about it 

He LOVES that it mainly started in England 

They teach him the history and values 

They start him off with the older punk music then work they way to more modern

Noor helps him make all his clothes and jackets and stuff

 He becomes a mechanic when he is older

When he’s older he also get tattoos 

Some of his old life and skulls and  one of a set of his old mortuary tools and one for Victor (or several) 

Other of stupid random stuff but he is COVERED in tattoos and Ms. P has a heart attack at first but stops after the first few bc he’s an adult and it's his money 

He thought about working at a morgue but decided to leave that work in his past 

That and things changed so much that he didn’t want to catch up

He’s bi and Noor kinda helped him understand modern lgbtq+ stuff 

He also has a few pro lgbtq+ rights patches on his jacks and loves the idea of pissing of homophobes 

Horace hates his music but tunes it out because he wants him to just be happy 

He finds a new love for scary movies 

He makes Horace watch with him but Horace hides his face the entire time 

This is a quick way he gets Horace to cuddle him when even during the times they were not together 

Doing this and cuddling him made Horace realize how much he actually really liked it and they got back together and stayed together 

Enoch sometimes finds loops in the early days of punk shows just to experience them and show Noor (I aint punk sorry it’s also 2am I’ll fix this later if the wording is dumb)

Voice hc : pyrocynical ( i’m sorry I made this hc in 2018 and it stuck but I can’t think of another one)

Ricky

Trans 

Bi or gay 

Wants Jacob to go out with him

The lot lizard line was half true

Has a band later and wrote a song about Jacob and he heard him play it (I got this from a fan fic) 

Missed him while he was gone but pretended it didn’t bother him

He once checked in on Jacob while he was gone and Jacob's mom yelled at him 

Moved out ASAP at 18  but still visits his mom all the time 

Jacob likes to visit his mom because she’s so nice to him but Ricky feels bad because she tries to impress Jacob and have tons of food and snacks ready even though Jacob insists she doesn’t have to 

Him and jacob have a small moment while hanging out after the events of DoDA and they make out and cuddle while a bit drunk but both feel super guilty 

Jacob one day spilled that secret to Noor and they were like “ okay… and… we all do stupid shit with our ex’s. I don't care because I know you stopped having feelings for him a long time ago”  

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks but very Hawks focused, just xmas fluff bc I can’t help myself 🎁🙈💫

Keigo who LOVES getting people christmas presents!

Giving gifts to show care and affection is part of his natural instincts due to his quirk, and a holiday where he can go crazy with it is obviously his favorite.

When he was little, he would only know the seasons based on the weather and temperature of the shed he lived in, but once he saw a christmas commercial on the tv that presented the idea of giving gifts to people you love.

Well, little Keigo did not know much about christmas, or love, really, but he was willing to try!

So he ventured out in the cold and searched and searched, and finally, finally he found it; the perfect rock.

He held it close as he hurried home, and after some rustling around in their makeshift kitchen he found some paper towels to wrap the stone in, just like they had with the shiny paper on the tv.

When he, after a lot of nervous pacing, presented the gift to his mom, she did something Keigo had only seen a handful of times in his short life; she smiled.

Keigo never forgot the fluttering feeling of joy and pride in his chest that moment brought him.

When he started training with the Commission, he had a lot of different handlers, but only one was by his side all trough the years.

His name was Mera, and he had hair much like Keigo’s and looked sleepy a lot, but he was something none of the others ever were; kind.

So, every year, no matter how tired, sore, scared or tired he was, Keigo drew Mera a picture for christmas.

It was always the same theme; the two of them, and every year Keigo got the best response he could dream of; a smile.

Even now, many years after Keigo «graduated» from the Commission, and even after he broke ties with them all together, he always made sure Mera got a little drawing in the mail for christmas.

He truly deserved it after all, helping Keigo get to the files he needed when he was finally ready to show the world what the commission really did.

And now, Keigo has multiple people he can get presents for every christmas, which is beyond amazing to him.

His first addition to the list was Tokoyami, of course.

Keigo had straight up lied to him that first christmas, saying that it was totally normal to buy his colleagues gifts, as if he ever had even had a real conversation with most of his colleagues at that point.

But for his little intern, he could not help himself.

He tried not to go overboard, but when Keigo first cared about someone, it was a lost cause.

Tokoyami had once mentioned his secret fondness for the Sanrio character Badtz Maru, and Keigo loved to show that he paid attention to details like that.

Now, a few years and quite a few christmas and birthdays later, his poor intern had so much Badtz Maru merch he could probably start his own store, but he treasured every single piece as if it were worth millions.

The fact that Keigo had given them to him made them worth even more to him.

With Touya it was a little different.

As soon as Keigo’s brain had decided that Touya was indeed his mate, it got straight to work.

Every shiny thing he got his taloned hands on, anything in Touya’s favorite colors, every sort of candy and sweet that he knew Touya liked, was immeadiatly aqquired and present to Touya at the first possible opportunity.

Watching Touya’s normal stoic face crack into a small smile and a faint blush reach his cheeks every time he accepted one of Keigo’s gifts were the best part of any day, no doubt.

It did however create a bit of a problem when it came to christmas gifts, because because Keigo really wanted to make it special, and Touya really wasn’t much of a materialistic guy.

In the end, it’s always Keigo’s attention to detail that saves him.

A special book Touya had mentioned in an off hand comment was hunted down, preferably as a first edition and maybe even signed.

Touya barley likes touching it, terrified to cause any damage to the previous item.

A precious memory in an otherwise turbulent childhood was recreated to the best of Keigo’s ability, and if Touya had tears in his eyes that entire night, Keigo would never mention it.

In all honesty, getting to go on these deep dives on things his boyfriend loves is one of Keigo’s favorite thing in the while world.

Recently he even started doing good by the fib he told Tokoyami way back when.

Eraserhead got some Neko themed teacher supplies, Mic always made sure to tell Keigo how much he secretly adored it, Mic himself got fun accessories and stuff for his studio, which he always made sure to mention on air.

Mirko got a collection of the best recepies for vegetarian meals Keigo could collect, and Fatgum got a ton of vouchers for meals on Keigo for the two of them whenever Fatgum wanted to be adventurous and try new, fun food.

For Keigo, however, one of the best gifts came in an unexpected way.

For a little while now, Keigo had been aware of his mothers location in a facility where she was getting the help she had so sorely needed all those years ago.

While she had expressed the wish to see her son as soon as he wanted, Keigo had been unsure.

He was honestly terrified of setting her back when she saw him.

But after months of thinking, talking and waiting, he finally felt ready.

Touya was with him, of course, and when they entered the small apartment that was his mothers’, Keigo was just about to pass out from nerves and regret when he saw it;

A small, very familiar, perfectly round grey rock on the center of her mantle.

All these years, all that pain, all those people, all the tears, trauma, time and places, and yet… she had kept it.

The first gift.

That, with the fact that the love of his life was holding his hand at this moment, made it the best gift Keigo could ever wish for.

[quibbs126]

Do you think you can do a Licofig (licorice x fig) fanchild? :3

We got an early one, took just about a month to do, this is Passion Fruit Cookie

Also @holidaywolffe I actually ended up doing this one last night because of your reblog. I’ve already said that but I don’t know if you saw it

So I’m gonna be honest, I called him Passion Fruit because my friend told me to name him that bc I wasn’t sure what to. I was maybe going to go with Licorice Fruit but I wasn’t sure about the color palette, because in my head I wanted a dark, reddish brown. Granted that’s not exactly what I got. I would have liked to use fig jam but I’ve already done that

But hey, at least now I’ve definitively ruled out Passion Fruit for hollytaya

Passion fruit:

So I knew right out the gate before I even started drawing that he’d be a satyr, it just made sense. I thought the legs looked weird at first but my friend told me to just keep drawing, and now I don’t think they look that off. They’re also the reason the robe thing is so short, so you can see his legs

Honestly I think the biggest hurdle was figuring out how to make him look like a passion fruit, at least color wise. Specifically finding a place for the yellow. I gave him Licorice’s yellow eyes, but I eventually decided to make the bottom of his legs yellow, with the top being black because Licorice. Also I got the middle color from Fig, I didn’t take a 50/50 of the black and yellow

I also added black spots on him to represent the seeds. I guess they’re supposed to be like freckles. I was also trying to give him some around his right eye, but it looked off. I’m not sure why I only drew one eye tbh

Then I added details like the leaf and other things on his arms since they felt a bit bare, I don’t know

But yeah, I think he turned out pretty good

On to his character. So the things in his hands are supposed to be potions of some kind, since he makes potions and elixirs. They’re supposed to be like, made from nature, so I was going to give them a more earthy color, but I thought they should probably look closer to passion fruits instead

But yeah he offers up his elixirs to people, might charge money but I’m not sure, I don’t see him as particularly money hungry. He also has labels for his various elixirs by the symbols on the front, as you may notice with the seen elixirs having different markings on them

I imagine he lives in a forest, but he also has a house in there. Probably made of a tree

I don’t really know what to say about Passion Fruit’s personality tbh, I think I might have had a better idea yesterday. He’s generally helpful, even if his demeanor doesn’t always reflect that, but he’s also not above pulling pranks on people and being a bit mischievous

But yeah I think that’s it, I hope you like him