#and that’s on two hours of care bear research

[iniziare]

Time for a little informational post on this cold as hell Sunday: So, the long and short of it is that the move to Ireland fell through, the housing market is on a collision course with the nearest and largest iceberg, and so we’re fleeing and moving to France to escape it. It’s certainly unplanned, but we’re happy to go. I’m both nervous and excited about it, because I’m going where my family is. The movers are coming the 3rd of October, and we’re flying into France on the 4th. /Bilbo Baggins voice: We’re going on an adventure!

We’re going into a lovely Airbnb for about a month (yep, take #2 of this) as we peek at potential apartments, and I’m striving to get my desktop back as soon as possible— but otherwise, I’ll be investing in a laptop. You’ll hopefully see me make some IC posts before then, but if not, I’m going to fight the writer’s block that my own thick skull has created to ensure that when I’m settled again, that I’ll be here, because while there are three characters that I really want to get to writing, there’s one that’s really screaming at me.

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[avocado-writing]

Hello! I had an idea for a request involving a genderfluid reader/Tav if you'd be comfortable with that. I was thinking about how all the romanceable companions are bi/pansexual and started thinking about a Tav who can change their sex at will (using magic), so they can switch between being male, female and intersex whenever they want. I like to imagine the companions finding out and being very bisexual about it lol

So if you could write some headcanons for that with the origin companions + Halsin, I'd be super grateful! Take care and have a good day! ^-^

Astarion is utterly unbothered. however you physically appear to him, he is totally smitten with you, so it doesn't matter to him. in fact, he finds it fun to play tricks on people if you have much of a physical difference when presenting as male and female, you can probably pull some swindles in Baldur's Gate using twin tomfoolery...

Gale is fascinated, asking you lots of questions about how your body changes, how it feels, making detailed notes. he loves to look at you in detail, exploring it tactilely with his hands, finding out what makes you giggle and teasing you in each body. he could spend hours doing it, in the name of 'research'...

Wyll writes poems for you in each body you show him. he likes to have a few verses ready to go to celebrate your beauty no matter how you look. if he's duke he always finds it funny when you change yourself and confuse the older, stuffy types, but his very favourite thing to do is to kiss you no matter how you look ❤️

Karlach is equally pleased when you're in a petite body and she can pick you up, but totally overwhelmed when you change into a larger form and can pick her up! she squeals in glee as you flex your muscles and lift her, spinning her like a princess and giving her a big kiss. she absoloutely melts into you!

Lae'zel is fascinated, asking as many questions as her proud nature will allow. as your body changes she makes remarks about what she finds most pleasing about it, be it broad shoulders, long legs, smooth stomach. when you lay down together she worships each of these parts of you for as long as you'll let her...

Shadowheart pretends she doesn't care - and she doesn't, but your changing body does affect her. she gets hot and bothered when you switch, always finding some new part of you to admire or enjoy, loving to relax in whatever pleasure your body that day can give to her... and you're always happy to experiment.

Halsin is used to a changing in his wildshape, but finds your ability to change sex fascinating. he suggests some wild ways that the two of you can get freaky, if you'd enjoy it. we've seen the bear scene. he doesn't stop there. he wants to bring you all kinds of pleasure in all kinds of bodies, and who are you to deny him...

[hotheadedhero]

Reacting to pregnant S/O

And how they tell everyone

2003 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

At first, he stares at you in silent disbelief before holding you close with all the joy in the world. He couldn't be happier. He's going to follow in his father's footsteps and teach them everything he knows. In fact, Splinter is the first person he tells, followed quickly by his brothers.

When the celebrations settle down, it suddenly dawns on him just how much he needs to prepare himself for this great responsibility. He already bears a heavy toll being the leader of his brothers and your protector but this? This will be a true test of accountability and he hopes that he will be strong enough to make sure nothing bad happens.

Yes. He's going to make sure he does everything in his power to ensure you two remain safe.

Raphael

Don't tell his brothers but he cries a little. How could he not? He already counts his blessings every day knowing you're his, so this is like the cherry on an already amazing cake. The entire family is gathered in the lounge, wanting them all to hear this news at the same time.

He starts to worry that his touch isn't gentle enough and that he could hurt the baby when they're born. It takes a lot of assurance on your end but his concern is incredibly sweet. You're in safe hands that are softer than he gives himself credit for and you know the baby is, too.

The nickname 'Mama' has now been officially upgraded to 'Baby Mama' and you are not complaining one bit.

Donatello

Astounded. Fascinated. In complete and utter awe over the fact that a tiny person is now growing inside of you. You can bet he drops every other project to look into this immediately. He always goes one-hundred and ten percent into his research, so you know you're in capable hands.

Everyone else finds out a few hours later when they stumble across him in his lab with notes strung up along the walls on how to best take care of the baby before and after labour. You do wish he'd calm down a bit but you put it down to his nerves and excitement.

This baby might just be his best invention yet and with the help of his most loving partner, no less.

Michelangelo

You aren't sure you've ever seen him exhibit such glee before. He is absolutely over the moon! There isn't a chance to figure out how you two break the news to the family because his reaction does that for you. He. Tells. Everyone! He will skate through the sewers and scream past every manhole cover and pipe that he's going to be a dad.

When he finally returns, he swoops you up and babbles about all of the fun things he's going to do with the baby. Read them comic books before bed, teach them how to skateboard, play pranks on Uncle Raph! You'll have to apologise to the red-clad turtle later.

Haha! He has his own little accomplice for his shenanigans, now.

As for Splinter in all of this, the prospect of becoming a grandfather is monumental. This family was already an unexpected surprise for him all those years ago but he couldn't feel more lucky knowing that it's about to expand. He's ready to bestow his wisdom onto more young minds.

[floreads]

baby blues • carmen berzatto x reader

pair: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

synopsis: sugar's childhood best friend throws her baby shower, and is reintroduced to carmy.

a/n: while researching the character ages for this piece i discovered that nothing really makes sense timeline wise for the siblings’ ages, so just for the sake of this fic i decided that carmy is 28, reader is 29, and sugar is 31 <3 also i did not proof read this lmao so sry for any mistakes !

warnings: anxiety/panic attack, lots of swearing lmao, mentions of hooking up but nothing explicit, lmk if i missed anything else <3

word count: 3.2k

"Okay - yo, be careful with the cake!" You run - or wobble, as quickly as your heels will let you - over to the dessert table, pulling your dress down as you go. Running the show in this outfit wasn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t have time to go home and change before the event is set to start. The venue staff wouldn’t let you come in any earlier than 1:00 PM to get everything ready, despite your numerous pleas. 

The two-tiered dessert wobbles slightly, as Richie and his colleague from the yet-unopened The Bear restaurant make the short but dangerous trek from the venue door to the row of long tables. 

"Relax, Y/N, we got it," Richie waves you away. "Marcus here is a professional." They place the cake slowly, but precisely, onto its display stand.  

"It's not him I'm worried about," you give him a playful squint. "Everything has to be perfect for Sugar. She deals with enough, having to see your ugly ol' mug every day." 

You turn away from him before he can fire back, and greet Marcus with a quick nod. "It's nice to finally meet you, Marcus. Beautiful work on the cake." 

He smiles back at you. "Of course, only the best for Sugar's baby."

That's all you wanted - the best for Sugar's baby. That's why you took it upon yourself to plan Sugar's baby shower. It's something you'd been planning basically your entire lives - ever since you two were old enough to steal your moms’ magazines during sleepovers. You two had planned your entire lives out together, and though the details have shifted over the years, there was one constant through it all: you’d always have each other.

Growing up, you and Sugar were virtually inseparable despite her being a few years older than you. Wherever one went, the other was soon to follow, like a shadow. You never really got along with your own parents, and as the only girl in her family, Natalie welcomed additional the feminine energy. Gone were the days of Mikey and Carmy ganging up on her when you were around. It was, and still is, you and Natalie against the world. 

You glance at your watch with an impatient sigh. 2:36 PM. You have less than half an hour before all of the guests arrive, and 54 minutes until Pete arrives with Sugar. You've been there for the last hour and a half getting everything ready for Sugar and her unborn baby, and yet there was one thing missing. Carmen Berzatto hasn't come with the food yet. 

"Does anyone know where the fuck Carmen is?" you ask, not to anyone in particular.

As if he was waiting for his cue, Carmy barrels through the door right then, breathing as if he’d just run the mile in gym class. Two women you have yet to meet, presumably from his restaurant that you’ve heard so much about, are right on his heels, helping him wheel in a cart full of food trays and serving utensils. 

“Fuckin’ finally. It’s nice of you to join us, Carmen.” You exaggeratedly throw your hands up, walking over to him. This was not the reunion you’d hoped for after not seeing Carmy in years, after what you’d dubbed the incident - one that not even Nat knows about. 

“Finally? We’re only,” he checks his watch, “ten minutes late.”

“Ten minutes?! Try an hour and ten minutes,” you scoff, looking at him incredulously. 

His eyes widen, and you are slightly taken aback by just how blue they are, though you don’t know how you could’ve forgotten. His face reddens and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the intensity of your gaze or his embarrassment at being late. Before you can think too much into it, he’s turning to look at Richie.

“What the fuck, Cousin, you told me she said 2:30.” 

Richie turns to you. “I thought that’s what you told me to say!”

The biggest sigh, possibly of all time, leaves your body and you cover your face. “No, Richie, I told you to tell him to be here by 1:30.” 

“You know, I seriously fuckin’ doubt you said that, but maybe next time you should just call him yourself.” Richie counters. 

“God fuckin’ forbid I accept help when you offer it! But don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson, ya fuckin’ jagoff,” your teenage accent comes out for a second, as always ends up happening when you argue with Richie. 

Carmy, who knows the way you and Richie fight all too well after witnessing it through your teenage years, steps in between you two. “Alright, alright, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter who said what anymore. What matters is we’re here now and I need to set up this food ASAP.” He turns, giving you his full attention. “Y/N, where can we put this food?” 

You send Richie one final glare before turning and leading Carmy to two long tables at the front of the room. “You’ve got these tables right over here. The venue gave us some food warmers, I’m sure you can figure out how to set those up better than I can. Be fast, Berzatto, we’ve got less than an hour before Sugar gets here and if anything is out of place, I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”

“Heard, Red.” He gives you a curt nod and moves to grab one of the trays of food before pausing so slightly that you know no one noticed - no one but you. He recovers quickly though, and it’s as if nothing happened. 

Your pause, however, is much more notable. No one has called you Red since Mikey died. Though the nickname was just the result of an unfortunate at home, box hair dye job at 15 (you were experimenting with your look - they can’t all be winners, okay?), it solidified you as an unofficial member of the Berzatto clan. 

“U-um, I guess I’ll just leave you to it then,” you stammer out, busying your hands with your phone to hide their trembles. As if she can feel your discomfort, the girl with the long braids tucked into a scarf walks forward, between you and Carmy, and offers you her hand to shake.

“I’m Sydney, by the way, Carmy’s CDC at The Bear,” she smiles. “And this is Tina, my sous,” she gestures to the smaller, but older woman next to her. 

You take her hand and introduce yourself, mentally berating yourself for not introducing yourself earlier. It’s not like you to be so rude - the stress of planning and executing a surprise baby shower for your best friend paired with the unnerving feeling of seeing Carmy for the first time since Natalie’s wedding must be getting to you. It may not be your place, but you’re still a little mad at him for skipping out on Mikey’s funeral and dropping contact with you altogether.

“I’m sorry! I swear, I’m usually not this all over the place. This whole thing’s got me goin’ a little crazy,” you gesture around the room. “Y’know, I’ve been meanin’ to get over to The Bear - it’s all Sugar’s been able to talk about lately. Besides the baby, of course. I was outta town for friends and family night - visiting my grandparents.” This was a lie - if Carmy was going to ignore you, then you were going to ignore him. Though, you know you’ll end up in the establishment one of these days now that Sugar is so involved. 

“Well, I’m sure Carmy and Natalie would love to have you in one of these days.” 

Your eyes flit to Carmen while you give Sydney a tightlipped smile and nod. You try not to let the awkwardness between you and Carmy show when your eyes meet. While you’d normally make some snide remark about how Carmy doesn’t have room for you in his life anymore, you remind yourself that today is about Sugar - not whatever problems you have with her younger brother. 

You take a deep breath and clap your hands together, wearing the kind of artificial smile that only the cheerleading protagonist of an early aughts teen drama would give. “Maybe someday!” 

Sydney and Tina exchange a look that you pretend not to notice.

“Well, I’ll just leave you guys to it then! The guests will be here any minute, so I’m gonna do one last walkthrough. Everything’s gotta be perfect,” you mumble the last part to yourself.

3:27

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, eyes bouncing between the venue’s big analog clock and the party’s guests, consisting of The Bear’s staff and the entire Berzatto clan (besides Donna - while Pete was in charge of the invites, you’d made sure that he didn’t invite her) when your phone vibrates in your hand.

Pete: The eagle is flying.

Your eyebrows furrow.

You: wtf are you talking about dude???

You: can u text me like a normal person rn, im about to have an anxiety attack

Pete: Me and Nat are outside!

You look up, eyes wide.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! Hey, shut the fuck up! She’s here!” You shout, gesturing around wildly. It’s a little hard to get the attention of the loudest family of all time. Thankfully, Carmy sees you struggling and steps up to the front of the room with you.

“Yo! Sugar’s here!” His voice fills the venue, and everyone gets into place in front of the overflowing gifts table. “C’mon,” he motions you over to the front of the group with him. You can hear Sugar before you see her.

“Seriously Pete, where the fuck are you taking me? I’m way too pregnant to be blindfolded right now. Plus, there’s shit I gotta do at The Bear.”

“We’re almost there, relax,” Pete says with a clear smile in his voice as he opens the door and guides Sugar into the room.

The room erupts with an out of sync “Surprise!” and Sugar rips her blindfold off immediately, looking around the room in disbelief. 

She turns to Pete and hits him lightly on the chest, “What the fuck, Pete? Is this my fuckin’ baby shower?” 

He leans in to give her a kiss with his hand resting on her baby bump, and the moment is so sweet you have to look away. 

“Yeah, Nat. As much as I’d like to take the credit, Y/N was the mastermind here.” He gestures over to you and Sugar runs over to you, squealing.

The two of you hug as tightly as you can with the baby between you as she thanks you repeatedly. “I can’t believe you did all this!” You give her one last squeeze before letting her go.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Sugar. Plus, I gotta make sure baby Berzatto knows how much I love them already. I’m campaigning hard for that Godmother spot.”

“Psh,” she waves you off. “You already know you’re a shoo-in. Who else am I supposed to have as the Godparents for my first born if not you and Carmy?” She scoffs and moves on to greet her brother. 

The relief you feel as Sugar gets smothered with love by her family and friends is visible on your face as you make your way to the small bar and pour yourself a generous glass of wine. Now that Sugar was here and having a good time, your job micromanaging was done. You see Richie make his way over to you, pouring a drink of his own. 

“Ya did good, kid,” he gives you a pat on the back as he watches Sugar and Tiff animatedly talking. 

“Yeah, no thanks to your attempts at sabotage,” you joke. What was that with you tellin’ Carmy the wrong time?”

“I refuse to accept that, there’s no fuckin’ way I gave Carmy the wrong time. Anyway, if you two would just grow the fuck up and talk to each other-”

“Okay, don’t even fuckin’ go there, Richie,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You know damn well I’ve tried to talk to him. If there’s anyone you should be lecturin’’ about this, it’s him, not me.” You pause to finish your drink. “Believe me, I’ve fuckin’ tried.” You pour yourself a new drink, smaller than the first. No matter how much you want to be drunk right now, you need to keep a clear head in case anything goes wrong. 

“I don’t know what that kid’s problem is,” he gestures to Carmy, slightly shaking his head. “It’s like tradition for the maid of honor and best man to hook up at a wedding. Who fuckin’ cares?”

Your eyes widen and you aggressively shush him. “Wha- keep your fuckin’ voice down, asshole! How the fuck do you even know about that?!” You whisper-scream at him, positioning yourself in front of him instead of beside him. 

“Chill out, Cousin, Carmy told Mikey, and Mikey told me,” he shrugged. 

“Mikey told you- so you’ve known this whole fuckin’ ti-” your sentence tapers off at the sight behind Richie. You can feel your heartbeat speed up and your hands begin to shake. “What the fuck is she doing here?” You march off towards the entrance, on a mission.

Richie’s eyebrows pinch together as you stomp away. “Who the fuck are you talkin’ about?” He turns, watching you approach the one party crasher that could ruin this day: the Berzatto family matriarch. “Fuckin’ Donna,” he mutters to himself.

Before you can reach Donna, she’s already shouting into the room. “Oh my God, look at this beautiful Berzatto family event. Oh - everyone’s here!” You can practically hear the incoming drama in the tone of her voice. “Too bad it seems like you motherfuckers forgot to invite me,” she laughs humorlessly. “It’s a good thing Jimmy let it slip to me that Sugar’s baby shower was today. It’s a grandmother’s right to attend her first grandbaby’s baby shower.”

You hold your hands out to her as if she was a wild animal, waiting to strike. “Listen, Donna, you cannot be here right now.” She grabs your arms.

“Oh, Little Red, you used to love coming over to my house. I fed you, housed you when your own parents didn’t want to. You’re so ungrateful… that’s probably where my kids get it from,” she stumbles closer to you, and you can smell the alcohol on her lips. Before you can reply, Carmy is stepping between you guys, taking her hands off of your arms.

“Hey, Ma, that’s enough. Don’t talk to her like that.” His voice is stern, but you can see the tremble in his hands. 

She grabs his face, gently. “Oh, Carmy. I don’t even know you anymore. When was the last time I saw you, huh? You never come to see me.” The tears are flowing freely on her face now. 

You glance behind you, looking at Sugar just in time to see Pete whisking her away to the kitchen, and out of Donna’s line of fire. At the same time, Richie is walking up to Donna. He puts his arm around her and leads her out the door. “C’mon, D, I’ll call you a cab. You should go home and go to sleep.” 

She pushes him off. “Y’know what? Fuck you Richie. Fuck all of you people, you don’t care about me at all. I’ll fuckin’ leave. None of you will miss me anyway.”

You take a step towards them, but Richie holds out a hand in protest. “I got this, Red, don’t worry about it.”

As Donna turns to the door with Richie hot on her heels, you gingerly place your hand on Carmy’s shoulder. “Hey, Carmy, come outside with me,” you slide your hand down his arm, take his hand, and lead the way towards the back door. He doesn’t look up, but follows you closely without saying a word. 

The stark winter air is refreshing, though you’re sure that you’ll regret the decision to come outside without a coat. You pull Carmy down to sit on the cool steps with you, and place your hands on either side of his face. You can feel him hyperventilating as your eyes meet his, his eyes wet with unshed tears. You resist the urge to look away. It’s been years since you’ve helped Carmen through a panic attack, and the memories are almost strong enough to cause your own tears. “Carmy, you have to breathe for me, okay? Here, try to match me.” You begin with the box breathing technique that you learned when you were teenagers. You take a deep breath in. One, two, three, four. Deep breath out. One, two, three, four.

In. One, two, three, four. 

Out. One, two, three, four. 

Carmy’s hands grip yours, hard, as he tries to match your breathing. “Just look at me, Carmy. It’s just you and me here, okay?” He nods and then closes his eyes, feeling the movement of your breath. 

You can’t tell whether it’s just a few moments, or ten minutes before you feel Carmy calm down, but he eventually opens his eyes and his grip on you loosens. You let go abruptly, as if his skin was a hot stove. 

“I- sorry. I’m sorry-” he starts, but you refuse to let him apologize for having a panic attack. 

“Don’t, Carmy. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“I do, though-” he starts again, but you shake your head. 

“C’mon, Carm. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but you know better than to apologize to me for having a panic attack.”

“That’s not- I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called, either. And I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you when Mikey died.” Oh. 

You can’t help but look away, smoothing away the nonexistent wrinkles in your dress. “Carmen…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. “Let’s just leave it in the past. I think we’ve both been through enough today, yeah? It’s not important anymore.” You give him a tightlipped smile and move to get up.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, grabbing your hand. “No, it is important. I was a jackass. To everyone, but especially to you. I don’t want you to think that you were just- that what we did wasn’t-” he breathes out, running his other hand through his disheveled curls. “You’re important to me, okay?” 

You give his hand one last squeeze before letting go and wrapping your arms around yourself. Whether it’s as an emotional shield or because of the cold, you don’t know, but this is all becoming too much for you. “I know, Carmy. It’s okay, really. We don’t have to talk about it. Actually, I would prefer it if we didn’t. It’s been years, we’ve both moved on. I heard about you and Claire, and I’m happy for you,” you give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and he can instantly tell it isn’t real. “Let’s just pretend none of it ever happened, and we can go back to who we were before. For Sugar’s sake, okay?” You give him a single nod, as if you were agreeing with yourself on his behalf, and go back inside before he can respond. 

He leans back on the step and pulls out a cigarette, before talking to the air: “Okay.”

dividers credit ! <3

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l seven

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: Yours and Joel’s romantic relationship progresses; Ellie confronts you about Joel in stables and encourages you to make a choice; when Joel gets injured while out on patrol, it leads to a confession.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SMUT. unprotected p in v sex (as always, wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation (if you squint), Joel and his big cock can go multiple rounds because i said so, creampie (these two really are just going at it without a care in the world), Joel gets injured (gunshot wound) mentions of blood, MEDICAL INACCURACIES (per my research, the way gunshots wound are treated depends on a number of different factors, but we are going full hollywood here). Luke and Joel have an interaction (that is a warning in itself).

word count: 8.4k

September, 2024

“Oh fuck Joel, please don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st—”

You stop short and bury your face into the blanket underneath you in an effort to muffle the loud moans and cries of pleasure spilling from your lips.

Although the chances of a single soul being out of bed and outside near the barn at this godforsaken hour in the middle of the night are slim, it’s better to be safe than sorry. But keeping the noise to a minimum is a challenging feat when Joel Miller is positioned behind you, fucking you into oblivion.

You can’t hold back, not when his long, thick, calloused fingers are gripping your hips like a vice, digging deeply into the soft flesh as he brings them back, slamming you against him with each thrust of his own. Not when every inch of his throbbing cock is stretching your cunt, filling you up and satiating your unbridled need for it. Your need for Joel.

Over the last few weeks, he’d shown you what real pleasure could—and should—be. Sex isn’t an obligation a wife has to her husband, and a woman deserves to enjoy it as much as a man does. Joel made making you feel good his goal, his priority, and there’s no coming back from it. He is the only man you want to touch you, to satisfy you, now, and for the rest of your life.

You lift yourself off the blanket, your teeth sinking hard into your quivering bottom lip as you desperately drive your hips backwards and meet his thrusts halfway out of your own burning desire to feel more and more of him. Arching your back, you squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the sweet, heavenly sound the backs of your sweat slicked thighs make as they slap roughly against the front of Joel’s over and over and over again.

Joel's grasp on your hips tightens. “Yeah, that’s it baby. Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he pants from behind you. He picks up his pace, delivering smooth strokes that gradually become harder, sloppier as that sweet release draws closer for both of you. But somehow, he’s still careful. Even when he’s lost in the heat of the moment and his mind is in a cloudy haze, he keeps himself grounded, at least enough to make sure he isn’t being too rough. He can’t bear the thought of crossing the line between pleasure and pain, not with the woman he’s grown to care about more than anything. But you make being careful difficult. Pleading and begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, you bring out the primal in him and he can’t say no to you, much less when he’s buried balls deep in your cunt. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Y’take my cock so fuckin’ well, sweetheart—s’good for me, baby. So, so fuckin’ good.”

“Joel,” you moan his name, forgetting all about staying quiet. You drag one of your hands down the length of your body and dip it between your thighs, rubbing quick, firm circles around your clit as your desperation to come mounts. Luke didn’t like it when you would touch yourself, he never allowed you to explore your sexuality or your own body, nor did he allow you to chase your high when you were together—but Joel?

He encourages it. Adores it.

He fucking adores you. And he always he makes sure to show you just how much he adores you.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, fuckin’ touch yourself—touch yourself while I fuck you.”

You swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud harder, the tension building in your core.

“Fuckin’ Christ, peach,” Joel groans behind you. “S’like this sweet little pussy was made for me. She was made just for me, y’know that?”

It’s hard to decide what does you in more when it comes to intimacy with Joel—is it when he’s soft and gentle, whispering beautiful, sweet nothings into the hollow of your neck while you’re underneath him, hands locked together and fingers interwined as he slowly slides in and out of your heat?

Or is it when he puts you on your hands and knees, obscene filth rolling off his tongue as he takes what belongs to him from behind?

He knows how to make love, but god, he also knows how to fuck and you can’t decide which side of him you prefer because they’re both perfect.

Unbelievably, devastatingly perfect.

“So fuckin’ tight, you feel s’good—” Joel grunts, driving himself deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that drives him just as wild as it does you. One of his hands abandons your hips and he glides it down the softness of your lower belly. What has to be one of your least favorite parts of yourself is one of his favorites and every night, Joel makes it his mission to prove to you just how flawless he thinks every inch of your body is. Lovingly, he caresses your tummy with his palm, and then trails his hand further down, slipping it between your thighs where his fingers join yours. Together, they circle your swollen clit and you hear the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. 

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close—I’m gonna—” Your own gasp cuts off the end of your sentence. You try to warn him again, but your words are washed away by the wave of pleasure that crashes over you as one final stroke tips you both over the edge you’ve been teetering and you both come in tandem. Fisting handfuls of his blanket, you mewl out his name as your orgasm tears through your body, making it shudder.

Behind you, Joel releases a low, guttural groan, his chest heaving as his balls tighten. He spills into you and his eyes pinch shut when he feels you convulse around his cock, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth. “Fuck,” he chokes as he leans forward and drapes his body over yours, his length twitching and filling you until it leaks out of you, dripping onto the blanket. His breaths are ragged and labored, but eventually steady. Instead of pulling out of you, he gingerly pushes his hips into you once more. Feeling your walls clench around him, Joel drops his head and snickers, his warm breath tickling the damp skin on your back. He opens his eyes. “Feels like you’re ready for more, sweetheart,” he mutters, planting a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. Didn’t know I had me such a greedy girl, peach. Guess that innocent little angel face of yours had me fooled.”

You’re about to retort but when he bucks, all you can do is exhale sharply. Your pussy involuntarily flutters around him and though you can’t see it, you can picture the smug little grin on his face—he knows he’ll have your body begging for more if he keeps it up and so do you. He’s been insatiable tonight, wanting more and more and more, and you’re not all too sure if you have it in you for another round.

“We’ve still got some time left for one more,” Joel says. He peels himself off of you and palms the curve of your ass, kneading at the perfect mound with his fingers.

“Joel, I’m not sure I can handle it,” you mumble tiredly, shaking your head. “I think I’m all fucked out.” 

He laughs softly and pulls out of you.

You breathe out an audible sigh of relief welcoming the emptiness for once. Just as you’re about to get off of your hands and knees, Joel slides his index finger up your puffy, swollen slit and the arousal pools itself in your lower belly all over again. “God, no, please don’t,” you whine. “I can’t take anymore, Joel. I really fucking can’t.”

“Y’sure ‘bout that, darlin’?”

“Yes, I’m sure—” 

The lustful moan that echoes throughout the barn as he pushes his finger inside you says otherwise and you silently curse your own body for its cruel betrayal.

Joel hums. “Hm, doesn’t sound like you’re sure,” he teases, slipping a second finger into your pussy. He leans down and trails a line of hot, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your spine. He stops at the small of your back and murmurs against your skin, “I just fuckin’ know my sweet girl has one more left in her. I can fuckin’ feel it.” He curls his digits, eliciting another gasp from you. “Tell me, peach. Y’think you can be a real good girl and give me just one more?”

It takes less than a minute before you’re whimpering in defeat.

Of course you can give Joel one more—you can give him as many as he wants you to give him, as many as he can possibly coax out of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out in reply. “I’ll give you one more. But I just hope you know that I’m probably going to need you to carry me back across town after this.”

“Hm, I reckon I can handle that,” Joel muses with a small chuckle. He withdraws his fingers from you, his hands spreading your ass and revealing your needy, dribbling cunt. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his lips part slightly as he stares at you in complete awe.

Your face floods with heat, and though he can’t see your insecurity, but he feels it.

“She’s too fuckin’ pretty,” he remarks, admiring the way your folds glisten with your own wetness and his come. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze. “You’re s’goddamn fuckin’ beautiful, baby. Promise I ain’t ever gonna let you forget it.”

Your heart flutters wildly.

Before you have the chance to respond, he shifts his position, moving off the large bale of hay you two have been using as a makeshift bed for the last several nights. He lowers himself down onto his knees behind you. Joel looks at you and smirks when he sees the expression that crosses your features—it’s one of utter disbelief. He’s devoured you plenty of times before, but not in this position, and certainly not when you’re dripping, leaking with his come. His smirk widens. “Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?”

“Joel, I—I’m a mess right now,” you stammer out, nervously. “Are you sure you want to—?”

Joel flashes you an amused grin. “That a serious question, peach?” He chuckles when you nod in reply. “Well then, here’s my answer.” He buries his face into your cunt and swipes his tongue over your seam, flattening it out as slowly begins to drag it up and then down again. Joel groans into you, savoring the taste of you and your sweet muskiness combined with him and his slight saltiness. His tongue slips between your folds, eager, hungry for more.

“Joel,” his name tears from the back of your throat in a strangled cry. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d left you so sensitive. Your body involuntary jerks forward, squirming to get away from him—but Joel is having none of it. You can feel him grinning into your pussy as he wraps his hands around your thighs, curling his fingers as far as they can go around them.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice muffled between your legs. He tugs you back towards him and tightens his grip on you, holding you firmly in place, right where he needs you. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue around it before engulfing the bud.

He might have teased you about being greedy, but truth be told, he’s the greedy one. Knowing his time with you is so limited only makes him even greedier.

Joel feasts on you, his desire to have you fall apart on his tongue again driving him to ravage you as if his very fucking life depends on making you come. The sounds of your whimpers, which are on the verge of turning into full blown sobs of pleasure, only spur him on. It’s more than just sending you home satisfied—he wants to make certain that, even when you’re apart from one another, you’ll still feel him. His tongue on your cunt, his cock buried inside of you, his lips and hands all over your body.

He can’t leave his physical mark on you to remind you of him when you’re not together, but he can, at the very least, leave you with a yearning for more of him.

You raise a tightly curled fist to your mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming out.

It’s too much for you to handle.

But somehow, it’s still not enough.

You want him to stop.

And yet you need him to keep going.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Joel, please! Please!”  

You beg him out of desperation, although you’re not really sure what you’re begging him for at this point—for him to make you come or for him to stop before you dissolve into nothing but a pathetic, whimpering mess. One of his hands abandons your thigh and without warning, he pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you all the while his tongue laps at your clit. The muscles in your stomach contract and you explode, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you come undone all over again. There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t shaking, trembling—it takes you a minute to even realize Joel’s on his feet, helping you turn around to lie on your back.

“S’alright. I got you. I’ve got you, sweet girl.” Joel climbs onto the bale of hay and nudges your thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. Planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, he dips his head and peppers gentle kisses all over your neck and chest, giving you the chance to ride out your last high before it’s time to get up and start getting dressed.

After a minute or two, you find your voice.

Or at least, a tiny, meek version of it.

“Joel?” 

He hums, his nose skimming along your jawline. “Yeah, baby?”

“I think you really are going to have to carry me across town.”

Joel chuckles, gingerly nipping at your chin with his teeth. “Best cut that out, peach. S’gonna start gettin’ to my head real fast.”

You giggle. “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you getting too cocky, Miller.”

You bring a hand up to his face, cupping it in your palm. Gazes meet in the moonlight and you give him a soft, contented smile. You sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat.

Those eyes. That smile. Oh, that fucking smile. He wonders if you've figured out by now just how effortlessly you do him in.

Joel’s throat bobs. “Peach?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, then admits, “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.”

Your body stiffens underneath him, your eyes widening slightly.

“What is it, Joel?” 

Again, he hesitates. 

Joel’s been trying for some time now to say it—to tell you that he loves you.

But whenever he thought he’d finally mustered up enough courage to spit it out, he loses it the second those three words are about to fall from his lips. He can’t figure out for the life of him what he’s so afraid of. It’s obvious, to both of you, that he loves you, and he has no doubt in his mind that you love him too. But neither of you seem to have the guts to say it.

“Joel?” you say his name quietly, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Letting out a small, frustrated sigh, Joel shakes his head. “M’sorry, darlin’. S’just that—”

He stops short and shakes his head again, cursing himself for being such a coward.

You understand him, though. “It’s okay, Joel. I know how hard it is to say it. It’s really not as simple as one would think.” You laugh in spite of yourself. Grazing his beard lightly with your fingertips, you manage to give him another small smile. “Please don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or the day after that. I’m not going to pressure either of us into saying something if we aren’t quite ready to say it. It should wait until you are good and ready—until the both of us are good and ready.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me—”

“I already do, Joel.” You drop your hand away from his face and place it on his bare chest. His heart thrums steadily against your fingers. “And I feel the same way about you. You do know that, don’t you, honey?”

His heart skips a beat at the pet name. You feel it. 

Joel leans down, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “‘Course I do,” he murmurs. He then pulls back slightly, assuring you, “Couldn’t be any fuckin’ clearer to me.”

You press a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose and the little token of affection prompts his dark eyes to flutter closed. “Good.” You start to drag your fingernails and scrape them lightly down the length of his chest. They move lower, gliding over his soft belly and the coarse hair below his navel. With a tiny, innocent smirk, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it until he begins to harden in your palm. “Oh? What’s this?”

His eyes snap open and he groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Christ, baby,” he gruffs. “What happened to not havin’ it in you for more?”

“Mm, I lied.” You run the head of his cock between your folds, moaning as you tease your sopping entrance with it. “I’ve got one more in me. Do you think we have enough time?”

Joel bucks his hips into yours and slides into you in one swift, smooth motion. Moaning, your back arches off the blanket, your breasts pushing up against his chest when he bottoms out. “Oh, I reckon we can make it happen, my sweet girl.”

“If you smile any fucking harder, your face might actually fall off,” Ellie quips.

You look up from the clipboard you’re holding in your hands and glimpse over Duke’s back, only to see Ellie smirking to herself as she runs a brush across the brown and white spotted Appaloosa’s side, its stiff bristles clearing his stunning coat of dirt and debris.

Clearing your throat lightly, you try, but fail, to wipe the stupid grin off of your face. Not that it would make a difference, because it’s been plastered on your lips all morning long. You raise an eyebrow at her, questioning, “I’m sorry, is there something wrong with me being in a good mood today, missy?”

“Of course not.” Ellie briefly pauses and her gaze meets yours. She shrugs. “It’s actually really nice to see you so happy.” Her attention shifts back to the task at hand. As she continues to brush the horse, her smirk widens. “So I’m guessing last night with Joel went pretty well then, didn’t it?”

You don’t even flinch. Thanks to the warning Joel had given you a few weeks back, she hadn’t caught you too off guard. More than anything, what surprises you most was the fact that it’s taken the teenager this long to confront you about it.

“Ellie—”

She snorts. “Don’t bother trying to hide it. Look, I know you two have been meeting up in the middle of the fucking night for the last couple of months,” she states in a blunt, matter of fact tone. “And I also know that the two of you know that I know. So let’s not beat around the fucking bush here, sweet cheeks. Are you two like in a relationship or something? Or are you just—what do the kids call it these days? Hooking up? What exactly is the deal with you and Joel?”

Gasping, you’re quick to shush her. “Ellie!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax princess. It’s close to lunchtime, there’s no one in here but the two of us. So fucking spill it. What’s up with you and my old man?”

You sigh. Setting your clipboard down on top of the mounting block beside you, you step around Duke and approach Ellie. Even though you know everyone else in the stables had taken off to the mess hall for lunch hour, you keep your voice low and hushed. “Yes, okay. We’ve been meeting up at night and seeing each other.” You’d tried your best to prepare yourself for this, made a list of things you could say to her to make the fact that you were having a full blown secret affair with the man who’s essentially her father seem a bit less shameful. But it was useless. No matter which way you could try to spin it for her, the bottom line was that you are a married woman who is cheating on her husband.

And you’re cheating with Joel.

“Listen, what we’re doing, it’s not right—”

Ellie lifts her hand and interrupts you. 

“You guys make each other happy, don’t you?”

“I can’t speak for Joel,” you reply tentatively, shifting your weight from one muck caked boot to the other. “But he definitely makes me happy. He makes me the happiest I have been in a long, long time.”

She chortles. “Oh, come the fuck on, you know you make his crabby ass happy too,” she tells you. She grins and continues to say, “Seriously dude, if only you could see him in the mornings after he’s been with you. Picture it, he’s getting ready to head out for patrol and he’s going about the kitchen smiling like a fucking idiot as he makes his coffee.”'

“Really?”

“Really,” Ellie confirms. “It’s fucking sickening.”

You can't help but chuckle at her remark.

There’s a brief bout of silence, but Ellie’s quick to cut through it. “Can I ask you something?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Figured,” you sigh. “Alright kid, go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you love Joel?”

Anxiously, you nibble on your bottom lip. “Yes,” you admit softly after a minute. “I do.”

Ellie glances down at the brush in her hands. She fiddles with it, running her fingers over the coarse, stiff bristles. “Wow,” she murmurs, quietly. Any trace of humor had completely vanished. “It must really fucking suck having to hide being with the person that you love, huh?”

“Yeah, it does. It really, really fucking does.”

Ellie opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.

Frowning, you take a step closer to her. “What is it, Ellie?”

“You could leave him, you know. Luke.”

“What?” Your mouth dries. “What are you talking about?”

“You could leave him,” Ellie repeats. Pausing, she chews the inside of her cheek. She seems nervous as she shuffles from foot to foot, something you find strange considering how brazen the girl can be. “You could move in with us into our house, you know?” For as tough as she could be, it tugs at your heart strings whenever her innocence peeks through, much like it is now. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You smile wistfully at the thought.

A life where you can openly be in a relationship with Joel—take your place by his side and live a life of peace with him and Ellie?

Of course you do. 

But it’s a dream that’s too far out of reach.  

“I would love that,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. You let your finger graze the softness of her cheek before dropping your hand back down to your side. “You honestly have no idea how happy that would make me, Ellie. But it’s not all that simple—it’s much too complicated for me to leave Luke.”

“How the fuck is it complicated? You aren’t happy with a man you aren’t even really married to. The world fucking ended, it’s not a real marriage. Just take off the ring, pack up your shit, and it’s done. I don’t see what’s so fucking complicated about it.”

You sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because you’re not even giving me the chance to fucking understand,” Ellie shoots back at you, anger and frustration glazing over her brown eyes as she tries to make sense of it all. “You could actually be happy with Joel—and with me. We could be a family, a real fucking family.”

Caught off guard, you stare at her in complete shock. It’s not like you aren’t aware of how close she’s grown to you since you’d met, but you never expected her to see you as family. 

“Ellie, please. You have to believe me. Nothing would make me happier,” you choke out in reply. You furiously blink back the hot, stubborn tears that threaten to fall and hold it together for her sake rather than for yours. “Being together with Joel—being with the two of you and living life together as a family would be incredible.”

“Then why won’t you just fucking leave him?” she demands, growing more irate. “Why miss out on the chance to be fucking happy for once?”

Her questions are met with silence. 

How do you even begin to explain it to her?

How do you tell a teenager that you’re trapped with no way out? How afraid you were of your husband?

You don’t. You can’t.

“Well?” Ellie impatiently prompts you after a minute. “Come on man, just tell me the fucking truth already. Why can’t you leave Luke?” Her gaze finds yours and her eyes widen when the realization suddenly starts to sink in for her. “Oh shit.”

You quickly shake your head. “Ellie, wait—”

“It’s because he won’t let you leave, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

For a second, you feel like you’re going to be sick all over her sneakers. 

Before you can even think of how to respond to the accusation, the sound of Tommy Miller’s voice echoes through the stables. “Ellie!” he shouts. “Ellie! You in here?”

Relieved, you call out to him. “Hey, Tommy! Yeah, she’s here—she’s with me in Duke’s stall!”

Scowling, Ellie points a menacing finger at you. “This conversation isn’t over,” she mutters. “Far fucking from it, princess.”

Tommy rushes into the stall, his chest heaving. He’s out of breath and sweating profusely, his curls plastered to his forehead. His light blue denim shirt is stained with crimson and so are his hands—he’s covered in blood.

“Tommy!” you gasp out his name and run up to him, grabbing onto his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright! Blood ain’t mine,” he says, giving you a reassuring nod as he wraps his hands around your forearms, smearing your skin red. He then looks over your shoulder at Ellie. “It’s Joel. He’s been shot.”

Your nails dig into his arms, a chill running down your spinal cord.

“What?” Ellie cries, running up to the two of you in a panic. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened? How did he—is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Tommy tells her, eliciting a breath of relief from her, as well as from you. “He got hit in the shoulder. I had to come find you and tell you right away,” he explains to her. “Needed you to hear it from me and not from anybody else.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s down at the clinic. I can take you there now—”

Ellie drops the brush in her hand. “What are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go!”

Tommy nods and lets go of you. He whirls around on the heel of his boot and leads her out of Duke’s stall.

You start to follow behind them, but freeze.

What business do you have seeing Joel?

As far as Tommy’s concerned, you’re nothing to his brother. Just a neighbor, maybe an acquaintance. The veterinarian his kid works for, if anything, but certainly nothing more.

“Wait.” Ellie halts in her tracks and turns back to you, beckoning with her hand. When you don’t move a muscle, she rolls her eyes and hurries over to you, taking your hand in hers. “Come on!”

Tommy shoots her a confused look.

“Ellie, what are you—?”

Ellie’s head whips around and she glares at you, as if telling you to be quiet. “I need you to come with me,” she says. “I’m going to need you for uh—you know, for emotional support and shit.”

It suddenly clicks. You know what she’s doing.

She’s giving you the excuse to see Joel. 

Squeezing Ellie’s hand in a silent thank you, both of you follow Tommy out of the stables and across the commune towards the clinic.

“Tommy, what happened out there?” you ask him.

“Raiders,” Tommy answers over his shoulder. His long strides are difficult to keep up with, and you and Ellie are forced to break out into a jog just to keep up with him. “Motherfuckers came outta nowhere and ambushed us. They got Joel in the shoulder, hit Carl in the stomach. Peter got shot in the chest—he’s in real bad shape. We don’t think he’s gonna fuckin’ make it.”

Your stomach churns. Peter. Marther’s husband.

“Anyone else wounded?”

He shakes his head. “No, but we did lose two of our horses. Daisy and Cash.”

“How could this fucking happen?” Ellie demands furiously.

“We think it was that same group we were trackin’ back a few weeks ago.” Tommy’s voice is strained. He tightly shakes his head, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. “They must have realized we stopped with double patrol. Those fuckers caught us with our guard down. I fuckin’ knew we shouldn’t have eased up with patrol duties, I should’ve had every able bodied patrolman man out there day and night—”

You frown at the back of his head. “Tommy, please. You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known they were still out there after all this time.”

“Tell that to Martha,” he replies bitterly. “Tell that to Carl’s wife and to his daughters.”

Knowing there isn’t anything you could say to console Tommy or ease the guilt he’s feeling, you clamp your mouth shut.

Now isn’t the time to even try.

The three of you arrive at Jackson’s clinic.

Before the outbreak, the building had served as an urgent care facility for the town.

Abandoned and picked clean over the years, it had taken a lot of time and effort for the community to restore what was left of it into a safe, reliable place that could be used for healthcare services. It still wasn’t much even after the fact, but the clinic boasted three examination rooms for patients, and its shelves, once bare, were now decently stocked with precious medical supplies such as bandages, vials of penicillin, and clean syringes.

Tommy leads you and Ellie inside and the first thing the both of you notice are the trails of splattered blood on the speckled linoleum floors. You pray none of it is Joel’s.

In the first exam room, you can hear Carl, a man who used to work in the stables with you before he’d be assigned to be a patrolman. He’s sobbing, screaming out in agony as he begs for someone to help him. In the second exam room that’s just across the hall from the first, you can hear Luke. He’s speaking to someone, presumably one of the nurses, instructing them to hand him more gauze, along with a scalpel.

“Joel’s in here.” Tommy walks to the last door at the end of the brightly lit hallway and opens it, stepping aside to allow you and Ellie into the room. “Hey, big brother. Got someone here who wants to see you.”

Your stomach churns, breath hitching in your throat when you see him perched on the examination table without his shirt on, firmly holding a bloodied cloth to his left shoulder to conceal his wound.

“Shit,” Ellie breathes out, dropping your hand. She hurries over to his side. “Joel, are you okay?”

Joel glares at his brother. “Thought I told you not to fuckin’ bring her here, Tommy.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause she’s your—” Tommy pauses, searching for the right word. “She’s your Ellie. She should be here with you, Joel.”

“She doesn’t need to fuckin’ see me like this—” He stops abruptly when he finally sees you standing there at the door looking like you’d just seen a ghost.

Noticing that he’s about to question what you’re doing there, Ellie cuts him off and pins him with a stern look as if to tell him to shut the fuck up. “I asked her to come down here with me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him and hoping he’ll get the hint. “Hope that’s okay?”

His eyes flit back over to you and he gives a single, subtle nod of approval. “You can come in,” he tells you. His gaze meets your own, but he’s careful not to let it linger for too long. “S’alright. Come on in.”

You stand there frozen. It’s not until Tommy puts his hand on the small of your back and nudges you forward that you you finally move. “Hey,” you say to Joel, your voice small and feeble. Cautiously, you approach him, your mouth and throat dry. Resisting the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him, you fall into step beside Ellie. She reaches for your hand again, holding it in hers as she gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

“M’okay.” Joel looks from you to Ellie, nodding his head in reassurance. “M’gonna be okay. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

“Anyone been in here to see you yet?” Tommy asks.

“It look like anyone’s been in to see me yet?” Joel deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “When is someone gonna take a look at him? He’s been fucking shot!”

“We’ve only got one doctor and two nurses,” Tommy reminds her gently, placing his hands on his hips. “They do what they can, kiddo.”

Letting go of Ellie’s hand, you stand in front of Joel and gesture to his shoulder. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

Reluctant, Joel’s lips purse together. “Y’sure you wanna do that?”

You nod. 

“Go ahead then,” he murmurs.

Carefully, you peel back the blood soaked cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound.

“It’s right there—the bullet. I can see it. It looks like it’s still intact as well. The good news about that is that it’s going to make extraction a lot easier since the bullet didn’t break off into fragments.” You manage to keep a calm, cool and collected demeanor. On the inside, you’re anything but. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it is to see Joel injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet behind you, there’s no choice but to stay composed to avoid raising any kind of suspicion.

“And the bad news?” Ellie prompts worriedly.

“Well, he could get a serious infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder. It needs to be removed and his wound needs to be flushed out and cleaned. It also looks like something we can stitch up. He will be fine but he needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.” You glance back at Tommy. “He can’t just sit here like this for much longer.”

“Luke’s still workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line since he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he needed to tend to the injuries in order based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”

“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You refer to the two nurses who work in the clinic alongside your husband. Every nerve in your entire body is on edge. All you want is someone, anyone—even if that fucking means Luke—to tend to Joel. It’s quite selfish on your part considering the severe nature of the other two men’s injuries, but you can’t help yourself. You need Joel to be okay or you won’t be okay. “We can have one of them do it. I’m sure they’re capable of an extraction.”

Tommy runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room next door tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”

Your emotions boil over and finally, you snap. Turning to the younger man, you nearly shout at him in frustration. “He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”

Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy raises his eyebrows but he says nothing.

“Wait a minute.” Ellie grabs your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”

“Yeah. She did,” Tommy realizes. “My horse, Ranger. He got in the shoulder durin’ an attack a couple years ago. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”

Your eyes bounce between them in absolute disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse.”

“How different could it be?” Tommy wonders out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.

Furiously, you shake your head. “I’ve never treated a human wound before, at least not one like this. Cuts and scrapes, sure. But this is a gunshot wound, guys. I can’t—”

Ellie’s fingers dig anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispers, her eyes looking up into yours pleadingly. “You’ve got to help him. Please.”

Slowly, you turn to Joel, who hasn’t uttered a single word. “Would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing outta my shoulder,” he remarks after a minute. He brings his gaze to meet yours and holds, forgetting all about subtlety. “I trust you.”

“Joel, I can’t. I’m not capable—”

“Oh fuck that, you are capable,” Ellie insists, shaking her head at you.

Helplessly, you turn to Tommy for backup.

“I’m gonna have to agree with with the kid, little lady. You’re capable. I just know it.”

“Please,” Ellie begs you. “It could be fucking hours before Luke gets to him. You said it yourself just a minute ago, Joel can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. He could get an infection. Please, you have to do it. Do it for me.” Do it for him, she wants to say. But she knows she can’t.

Hearing the desperation in her voice, you don’t have much choice but to reluctantly agree to it. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” you relent, exhaling a sigh of defeat. “But if I’m going to do this, I would rather do it without an audience watching me.”

“Say no more.” Tommy gently takes Ellie’s arm and starts tugging her towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s wait out in the hallway, kiddo.”

“But—” She begins to protest. 

“Ellie.” Joel grits out her name. “Listen to Tommy.”

Annoyed, she huffs, “Jesus, okay. Fine.”

As soon as they disappear and close the door behind them, you turn back to Joel, your heart slamming against your ribcage.  

“I trust you,” he repeats, firmly. “Alright?”

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Alright.”

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, you begin digging around through various cabinets and in drawers, searching for the supplies that you would need—a bottle of saline solution, a pair of surgical forceps, and a clean needle for the stitches. You toss them onto a small silver tray along with plenty of gauze and a packet of nylon sutures that had expired well over fifteen years ago. The only thing you can’t find are gloves, and while you were sure there had to be a box somewhere in the clinic, you don’t have the spare time to search for them. You wash your hands as thoroughly as possible with warm water and a bit of natural, handmade antibacterial soap one of the women in the commune makes and sells in her apothecary shop on Main Street along with her healing ointments and salves.

Your mind spins as you dry off your hands and pick up the tray, slowly making your way over to Joel. You set it down on the exam table and stand in front of him, inhaling a long, deep breath through your nose. Exhaling it slowly and steadily through your mouth, you ask, “Are you ready?”

Joel places his hand on your hip, his fingers brushing the skin that peeks between the waistband of your jeans and the lace hem of your yellow camisole. “Think I should be the one askin’ you that question, darlin’.”

You could have laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

“How can you be so sure about that, Joel?”

“‘Cause. I know my girl,” Joel murmurs, softly. He makes certain to keep his voice low, just in case Tommy and Ellie happen to be standing too close to the door. “And I know she’s capable of a hell of a lot more than she thinks she is. I believe in you, peach,” he asserts, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “I trust you with my fuckin’ life.”

Your eyes glaze over with tears and you exhale a shaky breath. It’s not just his words, it’s the sincerity behind them—he means it when he says he trusts you with his life. If it ever came down to it, he would put it right in your hands.

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” you warn him. “I don’t have any anesthetic to numb the area.”

His hand falls away from you and he curls it into a loose fist on his thigh. “Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse, sweetheart.”

Reaching for the cloth on his shoulder, your hands threaten to tremble but you will them to stay as steady as possible as you remove it, setting side before picking up the bottle of saline and a piece of gauze. The bleeding had ceased. You clean the area well and give yourself a clear view of the thumb sized projectile. “It’s pretty superficial,” you observe, wiping at the wound and causing him to wince. “It doesn’t look like it caused any kind of severe damage, either.” Throwing the used gauze aside, you take the pair of forceps and show them to him. “Ready?”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, do I now?”

“Nope.” You flash him a tiny, wry smile. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and begin the extraction. I need you to stay as still as possible, alright?”

Joel nods grimly, his jaw clenched and lips pressed in a tight line.

“One, two, three—take a big, deep breath in and let it out slowly through your nose.”

He does as you instruct him, his fist tightening on his leg as he braces himself.

Firmly holding the forceps, you carefully insert the jaws of the instrument into his wound. Although you want to get the painful procedure over with as quickly as possible, you have to be careful not to cause any kind of further damage to his shoulder. “Fuck,” Joel hisses through gritted teeth, his eyes pinching closed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Didn’t think it’d hurt this fuckin’ bad.”

You manage to get a good grip on the bullet with the forceps. “Almost done,” you assure him. “I’m going to pull it out now. Take another deep breath in for me and hold it.”

He nods and inhales, his chest expanding.

“On three, let it out—one, two, three.”

Joel exhales sharply as you swiftly pull the bullet from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he curses again, shaking his head. Even though his shoulder feels like it’s on fire, he does feel a huge sense of relief as soon as the round comes out.

“Got it,” you say, lifting the forceps. You show Joel the projectile clamped in the instrument’s jaws. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that there was even a slight possibility that the bullet you’re holding in your hand could have hit him somewhere else—it could have been a fatal shot. Shoving the nauseating thought out of your mind, you set it down on the tray and pick up the bottle of saline and a couple pieces of clean gauze. After flushing the wound and cleaning it a second time, you take a closer look at it just to be sure there’s no serious damage to the tissues in his shoulder. “Everything looks alright from what I can see. I cleaned it as best I could, but there’s always a risk for infection so you’ll have to take a round of antibiotics. You’ll also have to wear a sling for about four to six weeks. Doctor’s orders,” you add with a tiny, jeering smile when you clock the disdain on his face.

“Shit. That mean’s Tommy’s gonna pull me off of patrol,” he realizes, miserably. “What the hell am I gonna do for four to six weeks?”

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Recover from being shot?”

“Yeah I s’ppose I am,” he mutters with an eye roll.

Calm, tranquil silence falls over you as you prepare the suture, looping it through the needle. The moment you start stitching him up, an emotional lump rises in the back of your throat and you’re not sure why. Joel is fine. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay, and yet, all you can do is think about how frightened you’d been when Tommy ran into the stables covered in blood and said that Joel had been shot. How terrifying it was to think he was dead. 

He says your name softly.

When you don’t acknowledge him, he reverts to his nickname for you. “Peach.”

You hum, trying to stay focused on finishing the task of closing up his wound. “Hm?”

“Look at me, baby.”

“Joel, I’m kind of in the middle of someth—”

“I love you.”

Stopping mid stitch, you look at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Darlin’, I can’t count the number of times I almost fuckin’ said, but couldn’t. How many times those words have been right there on the tip of my tongue and just when I’m ‘bout to say them, I lose the nerve. After what happened today, m’gonna stop bein’ such a fuckin’ fool. M’gonna tell you every chance I get,” Joel vows, his gaze piercing into yours. “You had my heart from day fuckin’ one and you’re gonna have it for the rest of my life, sweet girl. I love you.”

His declaration knocks all of the wind out of your lungs and leaves you breathless. Speechless.

“AIn’t gotta say it back to me until you’re ready,” Joel reassures you. “Y’know how I feel ‘bout you—but I think it was time you finally heard it.”

You choke down your emotions—now isn’t the time to break down, not when you have a needling poking through his flesh. It’s not exactly how you pictured you professing your love for each other, but it feels right. “I love you too, Joel,” you whisper back to him. “I’ve been wanting to say it to you too, but I’ve just been afraid.” You pause and realize, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Joel tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do me a real big favor darlin’ and finish stitchin’ me up quick ‘cause I’m fuckin’ dyin’ for a kiss.”

Letting out a tearful little laugh, you carefully finish pitching him up. As soon as you finish with the last stitch, Joel wraps his uninjured arm around your waist. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs. He tugs you forward so you’re standing between his legs and tilts his head up towards yours. 

You smile at him before leaning in, molding your mouth to his in a sweet kiss. 

As you do, Luke’s voice echoes loudly out in the hallway. “What the hell do you mean she’s—”

Jerking away from Joel, you jump back just as the door swings open.

Luke bursts into the examination room with Tommy and Ellie behind him. His dark green eyes flit from you to Joel and then back to you again.

“Joel!” Ellie shoves past him. “You okay?”

“M’alright,” he replies stiffly, his eyes carefully trained on your husband.

“Tommy told me you were treating Joel’s wound.” Luke approaches you, and while he is keeping a collected composure for the sake of not causing a scene in front of the other people in the room, you know him better than that. He’s furious, but he’s masking it well.

Nervously, you nod. “Yes. I extracted the bullet from his shoulder, flushed and cleaned the wound, and stitched him up.” You notice the blood on his light blue medical scrubs and glance around him at Tommy. “How is Peter?”

His expression is grim. “Didn’t make it.”

“God,” you mutter, your heart clenching in your chest as you think of Martha. She’s just lost her husband.

Luke walks over to Joel, whose hands are curled into fists in his lap. He inspects his shoulder, observing the work you’d done. He then looks over his shoulder at you and frowns. “You shouldn’t have done this,” your husband chastises you, shaking his head tightly. “You aren’t a trained medical professional. Do you even realize—”

“Your wife did a good fuckin’ job,” Joel cuts him off. “She knew what she was doin’.”

Luke’s head whips back around and the two men’s eyes meet in a tense exchange.

“Give her some more fuckin’ credit than that. She’s amazin’,” the older man states, his nostrils flaring. 

“Yeah,” Ellie chimes in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes at Luke. “She’s fucking amazing.”

Luke turns to her and arches an eyebrow. Before he can say anything, the sound of Donna’s voice comes from the room next door.

“Luke! I need a little help in here!”

Lips pursed together, Luke takes a step back from Joel and turns on his heel to leave. As he passes you, he stops briefly, long enough to whisper to you quietly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

A chill runs down your spine.

You know exactly what he means by that. 

Luke tosses you a subtle glare and stalks out of the room.

“I should go and find Maria,” Tommy states with a sad sigh. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Martha about Peter.” He gives you a nod. “Thank you, little lady. For takin’ such good care of my big brother.” He disappears, closing the door behind him and leaving the three of you alone.

Ellie comes up to you, curling her arms around your waist. “Thank you. We fucking owe you one.”

You say nothing as you hug her back, holding onto her tightly.

You try not to think about what’s in store for you later that evening at home.

[howlingday]

Panthera Tigris Tigris Nikos

Jaune: Hey, Pyrrha? Can I have a hug?

Pyrrha: Of course, Jaune! (Hugs)

Jaune: (Sinks into her)

Pyrrha: Would anyone else like-

Nora: (Dragging Ren) MEMEMEME~!

Fun Fact! Bengal tigers are big. Females have been documented to reach 400 pounds, males 500 pounds, and occasionally larger specimens reaching 700 pounds. Royal Bengal Tigers are reportedly even bigger, with one specimen shot by David Hasinger in 1967 was reported to be 857 pounds, measured at 11 feet long, and left paw prints "the size of dinner plates," and it's last meal was a live water buffalo weighed down by an eighty-pound weight. It is displayed in the Smithsonian Institutions's National Museum of Natural History, in the Hall of Mammals.

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Pyrrha: Ready for our run, Jaune?

Jaune: You bet! Maybe this time I could-

Pyrrha: (Ear flicks) Oh, uh, why don't you keep warming up, Jaune? I need to grab something from the dorm.

Jaune: Oh, uh, sure thing, Pyrrha. I'll be right here.

Cardin: (Sitting on the roof) What the hell? Where's Nikos go- (Door swings open, Mauled)

Fun Fact! Bengal Tigers are fast. They can make short sprints of forty miles per hour, which is about the speed of a thoroughbred horse. An incident with a startled tigress mother with her cubs in Nepal in 1974 resulted in the death of a researcher who was hiding 15 feet in a tree. In 2007, on Christmas Day at the San Francisco Zoo, an Amur Tiger cleared a thirty-foot moat to maul three visitors who were harassing the tiger, killing one of them before being killed after four shots to the skull by responding police officer's .40-caliber-pistol rounds. It should be noted that the Amur was a captive tiger, raised from birth in the zoo. Imagine a wild tiger raised in the jungle.

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Pyrrha: Are you okay, Jaune?

Jaune: Y-Yeah, I... Wait, what about the goliath?!

Pyrrha: It's okay, Jaune. I took care of it.

Jaune: But how, Pyrrha? (Holding) Your weapons-!

Pyrrha: (Takes, Smiles) I took care of it.

Jaune: (Looks behind her, Sees dead goliath)

Fun Fact! Bengal Tigers are strong. Their bite force can reach up to a thousand pounds, which is much stronger than a pitbull's and about a quarter of a great white shark. Their prey includes deer, buffalo, bison, bears, rhinos, and elephants. A single blow can break a bear's spine, and easily decapitate a human.

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Jaune: Thanks again for letting us come visit, Mrs. Nikos.

Mama Nikos: Oh, Jaune, don't be so formal. We're practically family, so just call me Mama.

Jaune: Uh... No, I'll just stick with Mrs. Nikos, if you don't mind.

Mama Nikos: Oh, you are just so polite! I'm glad Pyrrha could have such a handsome team leader like you.

Pyrrha: (Blushing) M-Mom...

Nora: Can I have more meat buns, Mama?

Ren: Nora...

Nora: Oh, right! Khm! May I have more meat buns, Mama?

Mama Nikos: They're in the oven.

Jaune: So what do you do for a living, Mrs. Nikos?

Mama Nikos: I'm a personal fitness trainer. It's actually how I met Pyrrha's father. He said he could perform a perfect double twister kick, and I told him it was impossible unless he could twist and launch himself at a 167 degree rotation with a north-northwest gale blowing at 3.5 miles per hour behind him-

Mama Nikos: (Ding!) Oh! Meat buns are done!

Jaune: Huh...

Pyrrha: Don't worry. I didn't get it the first time, either.

Fun Fact! Bengal tigers are smart. Cubs are raised by their mothers for two and a half to three years. There are also notes of tigers imitating deer and bear calls. They will chase larger prey into water, tear at buffalo legs to bring them to the ground, and will flip porcupines from to their backs to avoid spines. There are also records of tigers killing 15-foot crocodiles, 20-foot pythons, 300-pound seals, and a 20-year-old elephant.

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Jaune: Hm? Hey, Pyrrha? Who's this standing with your mom?

Pyrrha: Hm? Oh... That's... That's my mother. She... She's not around anymore.

Jaune: Do... Do you want to talk about it?

Pyrrha: I... I don't know where to begin. She was my hero, but she did something really bad, and she died when I was really young. And I...

Jaune: Hey. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

Pyrrha: (Leans on Jaune) I was probably six years old when it happened. She and I were on our way to watch a tournament together, but then this guy came from out of nowhere. He shot at us and broke her jaw. She carried me back home, and then... She left that night. I didn't learn about what happened to her until just after getting accepted into Beacon. She... She went on a rampage and then... Then she...

Jaune: (Holds her) Hey, hey. It's okay, Pyrrha. I'm... I'm sorry to hear that. I'm... I'm sure she was a great mom.

Pyrrha: (Sniffles) She was the best. And, on the bright side, because of her, there's a new standard for huntsman and huntresses to follow. And she's part of the reason why I became a huntress. So I could make sure everyone follows the standard. Follows the example she set. (Smiles) I think she would have liked you.

Jaune: (Looks at family photo) I think I would have like her, too.

Fun Fact! In the first ten years of the 20th century, until her death in 1907, the Champawat Tiger, also known as "the man-eater" killed and ate 436 humans in western Nepal. She evaded capture and continued to kill until she was shot by British hunter Jim Corbett, who speculated the tigress lost her teeth years ago from a gunshot, forcing her to change her prey to much easier humans. He then went on to be an advocate for wild tigers and spent the latter years of his life devoted to their conservation, even having a conservation park in Nepal dedicated to him.

[rafa-jaja]

Hi, this is my first head canon, I hope you like it.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

(Dick grayson x male reader head canon.)

- First things first, you were the first one to confess your feelings towards Dick, it was in a mission where you were very badly hurt and you thought "fuck it all, if not now it will never be" and BOOM! Dick reciprocated.

- The first few weeks were a bit weird for Dick, as he had never dated a guy before, let alone a super. He ended up spending hours and hours on the internet researching to make sure he was doing things right.

- They both agreed to keep their relationship low key, because they didn't want everyone to find out.

- The first person they told was Alfred, why they wondered, because he was more likely to find out first.

- When they told the family it was memorable, they were all in the mansion, at a family dinner, Dick had invited you for obvious reasons. When it was announced at the table most of those present were surprised.

- Bruce choked on his glass of wine, Tim was surprised yet excited knowing he wasn't the only one dating a man, Damian was confused, but was fine with them not interfering with each other.

- With Jayson it was different, he just laughed and said "Finally you said it, you took your time."

- You and Dick looked at each other quizzically, "You knew about us."

- "Did you really think no one would spot you while you were making out in the patrol ? You're too obvious."

- After dinner the family showed their approval of their relationship.

- At the missions they tried to concentrate, but it was difficult when one of them got hurt.

- On one occasion Dick almost died, and the fear and anxiety of the momente made you blame Batman, you yelled at him in front of everyone present, you almost started a fight, but your father restrained you and took you to a secluded place.

- Dick was in a coma for two months, the longest and most painful two months of your life, you couldn't bear to see the man you loved in that state.

- When he woke up you ran to him and hugged him like never before, from that minute you made him swear that he would never again put his life at risk as long as you were alive.

- You got married that same year, you knew you couldn't live without each other. The wedding was small, just family and close friends.

- On one of your patrols you came across a mugger threatening a woman, you both intervened, the mugger shot the woman and escaped, Dick chased him and you stayed behind to tend to the woman. You knew she would not survive, but in her last moments she gave you a baby she was carrying and asked you to take care of her.

- That said the woman died, you had her baby in your arms when Dick returned, you explained to him what happened and waited for the police to arrive.

- In the end you and Dick adopted the baby, as she had no other family.

- And so you ended up living in a house in the country, away from danger and creating a perfect environment to raise your little girl.

[maisonaime]

Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely. 

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.  

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by. 

 You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it. 

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament. 

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat. 

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye. 

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely. 

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.” 

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept. 

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious. 

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat. 

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall. 

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned. 

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling. 

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed. 

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains. 

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle. 

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days. 

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance. 

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire. 

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

[gurugirl]

how is mean king harry coming along bestie? x

I'm chipping away at it!! I'll be honest... I'm trying to keep the story period appropriate (I'm imagining this being like 1800s??) but it's difficult - the language, the common items, plus all the stuff that goes into what royalty deals with... So it might take me some time because I've been researching things for it, but I've got a chunk of it written up!

Here's a tiny bit of what I have (unedited totally so please bear with me) to get a feel for what the story is going to look like (at least the first part). This takes place before he meets Y/n.

. . .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hours’ time? Our Lord Mayer and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the levity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hours’ time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell our Lord Mayer of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! Our Lord Mayer can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

[heartfullofleeches]

Monster reader is my top fav of ALL readers.

Like just imagine if Monster reader just wanted food so they go into a place that looks like it has food. And somehow walks into a cult meeting that give their upmost dedication to some monster god that looks similar to monster reader lol.

“ Today, we have come together to give our upmost dedication and beliefs into our savior. Our savior who gave us our life and our creation! And that is why today, we will be sacrificing this fool who dared to disrespect- Door opens

“ Oh. Sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if you have any spare food?”

“….. OUR SAVIOR HAS FINALLY RETURNED!”

“ FORGIVE US FOR BASKING IN YOUR PRESENCE WITH ASKING MY LORD!! EVERYONE GET ON YOUR KNEES AND PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS!”

Lol.

(small mention of gore)

Two months, fourteen days, and five hours.

The longest you've ever went without food. If you were human, the time frame would have held a heavy tax on your body if not killing you out right, but all it did leave was dull pains in your abdomen. During said period, you found a nice cave to sleep in and recover from the injuries sustained in your escape from the facility that stole you from your home. The rest cured your broken bones and scrapes, but unfortunately like every living creature - you needed to eat.

The area you resided in didn't have much going for it in the food category. Most of the edible plants and berries had been picked clean, and you were took out of practice to hunt for your meal. Being locked in a white room with meat thrown at you randomly really put you out of shape in more ways than one. Your fears of having to leave the forest were extinguished with the discovery of an old wrapper found one evening near a neck of the woods you had yet to explore.

The guards at that place walked around with similar papers, filling you with unease, but that anxiety goes out the door the second your nose picks up on a familiar smell. Raw meat.

Climbing over some rocks, you spot a collection of wooden enclosures with strange symbols painted atop. The books the researchers made you read never talked about those. Their knowledge led you to the conclusion that these buildings were cabins and the one where that alluring smell was coming from was the closest to you. There was noise from the neighboring buildings, but if you acted quietly then maybe you could just grab enough food to hold you off for a while and they'd be none the wiser.

Creeping past the red tap that secludes the camp from the rest of the forest, a shrill scream pierces the heavens. It pins you to place, the memories of the cellmates you lost rushing to mind. Is someone hurt? Despite your experiences with others, you wanted to help, but you needed strength in case of any danger.

You hurry to the door, breaking the lock and flinging yourself into the darkness. Your advanced sight guides you through the shadows and straight to your prize. The blinding light from the icebox is the most beautiful pain you've ever witnessed. Forgetting the manners you learned overtime, you claw open various bags of dead flesh and wolf down whatever you can get your hands on. A few of the bags have names on them, but you're too hungry to care why. Bewteen the wet squish of your teeth gnashing shut, a hush blows through the crowd forming outside.

"I told you I heard something, dude. Probably a fucking bear or something. It's eating the reserves."

"Relax. I'll handle it."

The light flickers on. You've been found The guilt you felt for eating the human's food without asking turns into panic as the first thing you see is the barrel of a shotgun pointed square blank at your face. You drop the meat in your hands and cower against the back wall; your first week of freedom spent pushing bullets of the same caliber out your spine. Your lips curl over your teeth as it clatters to the ground in front of you, still afraid as if it could do anything without a handler.

"Could it be?..."

You look up at the robed figures filling the room, the creases of their faces twisted in awe or fright. The first to fall is the one holding the weapon, followed by the rest of their group as they fall to their knees, bowing their heads and rising their hands in prayer. One of the memb pulls out another still standing in shock above you.

"The day of your arrival has finally come. Forgive us, Master. We didn't recognize you at first in such a weak state. Please spare us of your spite."

Master? That's an odd name. You quite liked the one a kind human gave you once. Y/n rolls off the tongue nicer.

"If you still require sustenance, we will leave you to your feast unless you'd prefer the fresher product of our harvest. If I may offer a suggestion, we can mend your clothes and prepare you a bath to cleanse you of our tainted blood."

Bath. Those were the only highlight of the facility. Why are these people being so nice to you compared to them? It made you feel terrible considering you were the one that broke into their home. Hunger beating the conflicting emotions, you continue to eat the meat until your stomach could carry no more. You probably stopped a few bites before you reached maximum capacity due to all the eyes on you making you a little uncomfortable.

You step out of the cabin, wiping your mouth with the bottom of your shirt to be polite. The cult watches your every move, but not one person makes a peep. Considering you were the center of attention, they must be waiting for you.

"Um... hello."

The members of the cult collectively lose their minds.

"Our messiah! They speak! To lowly beings as us."

"It really is them! I'm sorry for ever doubting your presence, my lord."

"This form suits you best in my expert opinion. Let us gather in celebration for your arrival."

They gather around you, examining your claws and taking measurements of your body to prepare proper clothing for you. The questions and praise your bombarded with make your head spin, but soon enough you're led to a bathing house in another cabin and your stress is washed away by the warm water and those who tend to your mated clothes and hair. Not long into your bath, others come with robes for you to wear. They sob and shrivel beneath your words of thanks, everyone here does.

After dinner where you sit at the head of the table, too full to eat a bite of food, you're allowed to wonder the grounds until your cabin has been fully furnished. You enter the room where the screams originated from hours ago, shocked by what you discover.

A mural of a beast similar to you was painted on the far wall in fine paint and what smelled like blood. Dual irises, onyx fangs, the cross scar in the center of its chest. This creature was you, a bigger, menacing and all powerful you. Below the painting was a dead human spilt open from sternum to belly, the bones broken away and organs scooped clean. Backing away from the scene, you bump into someone.

"We are so glad that you've come to us, Master. Please grant us the lasting benefit of your presence for the rest of our days - and beyond

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 5 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 6

Summary: Daemon doesn't show up for the date but he makes up for it.

Warning: 18+ sex ,period sex (if it bothers you skip the scene) death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

You sat there on the couch for half an hour before you began fiddling, when the clock finally hit 8 you realized he wasn't going to come. He didn't even call or text to inform you that he won't be coming and that's what hurt you the most because you had hoped that he cared at least that much. You were expecting such courtesy after what you both have been through together.

Perhaps he changed his mind or perhaps he realized that he was still in love with Lily. Your eyes welled up as you thought about that possibility, you didn't want to be that person, you didn't want to be someone to come between two lovers but a part of you always knew that Lily didn't care about him as much as he cared about her. Wasn't it supposed to go both ways? Ships sink, planes crash and in those moments she'd always pick herself up first.

As the clock struck 9 you felt the familiar churning in your uterus and knew there won't be any dates today even if he did show up miraculously. You grabbed a sanitary pad from the closet and made your way to the bathroom, cursing his stupid face throughout the way as tears filled your eyes.

You knew you were about to burst into a fit of cry sooner or later.

Around 9:30 while you were preparing a cup of tea after ingesting a pain killer you finally heard the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath you crossed your arms, and stared at the door for a moment to make him sweat before you decided to answer it.

And Why did he have to look sooo hot?

You were mad at him. Completely furious but he had a maroon shirt on with the top few buttons opened that showed the silver of white satin skin, fitted black pants, his hair was ruffled in that ' i either had sex or a strenuous workout' way. He leaned against the door frame as he looked at you up and down, you still had that stupid black dress on. The bouquet of flowers he brought wasn't going to fix anything if he had fucked Lily and was swept back into her charms.

“What do you want?” You asked him so he gave you the flowers, you grabbed it and threw it behind you, feeling awful for doing that to those poor flowers but you were raged in the moment.

“Can I explain?” He asked you as he sighed deeply.

“Go on”

“Can I come in at least?” he mumbled as he stepped closer to you so you took a step back but he grabbed you by the waist and stopped you from moving, his body pressed against yours as he closed the door behind him.

“You could have called that you weren't coming” your teeth gritted as spoke to him, anger visible in your voice.

“But i wanted to come and I'm here” he answered nonchalantly and that only spiked your irritability.

“You're 3 hours late”

“I have a reason for that”

“Did you fuck her?” his brows furrowed in slight offense as you asked him.

“Noooo”

Your heart felt still for a moment as he diffused your fears, you were so sure that he was with her, fucking her and realising that he was still madly in love with her. As your eyes welled up he grabbed your chin between his fingers and made you look up at him.

“I'm sorry i have let you down” his tone was gentle now and somehow that made you feel even worse about the situation.

“Why didn't you come? Did you change your mind?” your lips trembled as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. The thought of Lily being the reason for his absence was too much to bear.

“Do you think I'd look like this if I had changed my mind?” You looked him up from head to toe as he said that as if you weren't checking him out as soon as you had opened the door. “I was on my way when Lily called and told me that she had slipped in the bathroom. I thought that I'd take her to the hospital and still be here on time but it took longer than i had expected” you shrugged as he said that to you. What a convenient fall that was from Lily, you felt so selfish in the moment but you were extremely jealous and hurt.

“Why didn't you text or call?”

“I left my phone at her place when I picked her up so I had to go back.. good because now I have your number memorized” he mumbled softly as he placed his hands on your shoulders to pull you closer.

“You memorized my number?”

“Mmmhm..you should too”

“Okay” you both stared at each other for a moment before he cupped your cheeks. You felt a surge of emotions as he slowly leaned in and kissed you, a gentle kiss that seemed to melt away all the tension and anger between you.

“Ummm is she okay?” you asked him as you realized that you might have overreacted a bit and had allowed your emotions to get the best of you.

“Her right leg is fractured but she'll be okay”

“How do you feel about that?”.

“Fine? She's going to be alright”

“I'm still upset for some reason” you told him honestly because you didn't want to pretend as if him not showing up wasn't affecting you at all now that you knew the reason behind it.

“I'll fix that”

He picked you up in his arms and turned around to press you against the door to kiss you again, this kiss wasn't as gentle though, it was heated, full of passion and needy.

“I really wanted to treat you right baby..I'm sorry” he mumbled against your mouth so you curled your fingers around his neck.

“It's okay..you can treat me right.. here”

“Sure can” as he lifted up your dress you placed your hand on his.

“I'm on my periods”

“So?”

He put you down and pulled your underwear down and placed it on the dresser next to you , grabbing your waist by one hand. He slipped his other hand between your thighs, teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore and had to buck your hips into his palm. Your fingers clutched on his biceps as you tried to stifle the shameless moans that were erupting due to his skilled ministrations.

He leaned down and sucked a mark on your neck as he continued to rub your lips, mixing your dripping arousal with the blood. Your fingers traced down as you felt the bulge in his pants rubbing against your midsection, that's how close he was squished against you.

“Hold your dress up for me darlinn” his words came out almost in that of a drunken slur but his voice was sharp and commanding so you quickly grabbed the hem of your dress to lift it up, a loud moan escaped your throat as he wiped his bloody wet fingers all over your thighs, making sure to clean it well before he unzipped himself hurriedly as if he couldn't go a second longer without fucking you right against this wall.

His cock was hard and leaking already as he rubbed the tip over your clit repeatedly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted you up swiftly and entered you in one quick motion.

“Mmm is this good sweetheart..you alright?” You bit on your lips as you noticed the concern evident in his voice,

“I am in heaven..keep going please”

“Oh you sound so sweet like that love..do it again won't you?” He mumbled in your ears as he teased you with his torturously slow thrusts of the hips.

“Please Daemon..i..need you to keep going please” you mumbled sweetly, your voice went higher and turned more sensual than he had ever heard from you.

“I'd do anything for you if you'd speak to me in such a way”

Your hands wandered to grab his gorgeous ass, they were always begging to be held. He let out a grunt as you squeezed those cheeks.

This was new, he knew that, he also knew the raw electric passion he felt in the moment would fizzle with time like how it did with Lily but the way you had your arms around him and how tightly you were holding onto him, you'd continue to hold him in the same manner right?

Even when the sex would become a routine between you two he hoped that you'd still look into his eyes when he's making love to you and and he hoped that you'd look at him with the same passion you had in your eyes right this very moment.

He really hoped so, he really wished for this feeling to never end.

He didn't want to fall out of love again, certainly not with the woman who had risked everything for him..

“Why did you come darling?” He whispered in your ear as his thrusts slowed down again.

“When? Last night ? Because you're so good at this..?” he chuckled and pressed a soft kiss on your lips before his expressions turned serious.

“That night..you came for me..why? You'd have been on that lifeboat with the rest of our friends..far away from the wreckage if you hadn't done that. Why did you do it?”

Your eyes teared up as he questioned you ..

“Because you came for me first, remember?” you caressed his cheek with your fingers as you answered him even though it wasn't the complete truth.

“I was right next to you. I didn't't do you any favor. What you did was risky and life threatening..you could have died” his grip around your waist tightened as if he was afraid of losing you like that.

“No regrets..i..think about that moment a lot..that one fraction of a second where I see myself standing on the top of the deck with our friends and thinking if I had made a different choice.. the one where i never ran after you and that thought scares me because..i picture you all alone on that Island and it breaks my heart..” his own eyes welled up as tears rolled down your cheeks, his lips wiped those tears away and he picked up his pace again.

Every inch of his presence was burning with constant hunger for you, he was all inside you at the moment then how come he was still not satisfied? How come he still felt so hollow as if he wasn't already submerged so deeply into you?

He has been in love before and it wasn't a fleeting sort of love either but what he was feeling in the moment was something so magically profound, a feeling he had never really experienced before.

That wasn't it though, what astonished him was the fact that he never wanted to experience this again with anyone else either, he wanted you to be it, from now to the end.

As he came so suddenly inside you, your walls clamped around him and milked every drop of cum he had to offer. Your mind felt hazy as you convulsed against him, everytime he made you cum you felt your soul leaving your body for a moment.

You were still soaking in the orgasmic bliss when he took you to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed, after cleaning himself up he came back with a wet napkin to clean you thoroughly, then he went into the living room to grab your panties.

“Do you need me to change the pad sweetheart?” he asked you softly so you denied,

“No, I have hardly bled on it” he proceeded to pull it up your legs. On the island you were using the same two pieces of clothes every month, you'd wash the other one and Daemon would keep it in the sun to disinfect it as much as possible, sometimes the life you lived on the island didn't even feel real, it felt like a nightmare or a dream depending on the situation.

“Had Dinner?” He asked you as he laid down next to you so you shook your head “Want me to cook?” He questioned, making you giggle in response.

“You can cook?”

“I have fed you that slightly charred fish for months.. of course I cook”

Before you could answer him he received a call from Cole, they were at Lily's place to check up on her and he was surprised that Daemon wasn't tending to her needs on hands and feet.

“Don't you think you're being a bit of an arse?” Cole said to him on the phone and Daemon excused himself away from you as he didn't want to have this conversation in front of you.

“What are you on about mate?” He asked Cole as his jaw clenched, he didn't really appreciate the snarky tone Cole was using with him.

“She's hurt and crying..come on..it's Lily..your Lily” Cole reminded him as if it was something Daemon could ever forget.. Daemon and Lily, that's how people always knew them together but he wasn't the same man anymore.

“I took her to the hospital and brought her back home..what else am i supposed to do?” he asked Cole in a frustrated voice, he didn't want to get tangled into her selfish mess again, not when life had something so precious and selfless to offer to him. Only a fool would let go of a woman like you, he wanted to move on from that failed relationship and explore the depth of this thing between you two.

“She's not wrong you know..You have changed man..” Cole chuckled and it only angered him further.

“Yeah well live on a fucking uninhabited island for months and then preach to me” he hung up the phone and when he turned around you were leaning against the bedroom door with a small comforting smile on your face.

“You should go check on her..she's hurt”

“Oh..I'll go but you're coming with me”

“Daemon –”

“Just come..let's just tell them about us yeah?”

“Us?” You asked him so he walked towards you and placed his arms on your sides, you had no option but to look up at his tall frame.

“Us..me and you..Us” you bit on your lips as he said that, he had a way of making you feel all flushed and warm with his words, one of the reasons why you were even attracted to him in the first place.

“Okay…Calm down cavemon” he was huffing and puffing about something so you traced your fingers over his chest, the half unopened shirt gave you plenty to play with.

“Doesn't it bother you? The way they're treating us? The way everyone is treating us?” he spoke solemnly so you sighed deeply as you truly resonated with the frustration he felt regarding the matter.

“Treating us as if we have just returned from a long isolated vacation? Yes it does bother me” you cupped his cheeks to make him look at you “But it's not their fault, they won't understand..for them the ship sinking was the worst of it all and it was a huge trauma in itself and they went on with their lives thinking that we were dead. But we aren't, we are back.. alive and well..so it's as if nothing had ever happened to us, they think we suffered the same as they did but it's not the same and it won't be the same. But you can't expect them to understand that. We ate fruits and fish everyday and slept on the bed of leaves..they hear those details of our survival and they think it was easy and that's okay..let them think that we had it easy”

He placed his forehead down on yours as you finished speaking, your soft soothing voice melted in his ears like honey.

“Are you always this wise?”

“Mmmhm” you smiled before you kissed him softly “Do you feel betrayed by Lily? Is it anger that's making you drift away from her?”

“Not her first time when she looked out for herself only. She was scared when she realized what was happening on the ship..I understand that..it's just hurtful that I didn't cross her mind even once”

“I'd feel the same way”

He didn't want to go see her tonight so while he attempted to cook you grabbed those poor flowers and placed them in a vase as you mumbled softly apologies to the mother nature for the disrespect, then you cuddled him on the bed to make him feel better. Daemon, not the flowers.

However, you awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Daemon's pen scratching the paper. Despite your curiosity, you refrained from disturbing him, assuming he was in the midst of writing a song or a piece of music. So you simply snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in his presence as you drifted back to sleep.

It was surreal having no jobs but having all that money that would feed you well even if you never work again. It wasn't really the employment you needed but the passion for the art you felt so strongly about before your life changed so drastically..

The following day, much to your displeasure you went to go see Lily with Emma but you could tell she wasn't at all happy about your presence there and as soon as you had stepped inside her house you regretted your silly decision of coming here, you two would never become friends, even more so now that you were with Daemon. As Emma excused herself to go make coffee the air around you both tensed even more.

“Thanks for the flowers..they're my favorite” she said to you as she grabbed a cigarette. The way Daemon spoke about her you really thought she was against his smoking.

“I know.. Daemon told me..i hope you're feeling better” she smiled as you mentioned him.

“Of Course he knows me more than anyone..Do you mind or want one?” she pointed towards the cigarette so you denied.

“No and no..thank you though” you gave her a polite smile in the hope that Emma would return soon and rescue you from this uncomfortable situation.

“Look y/n..I like you and I feel for you..that tragedy was hard on all of us but me and Daemon..we are like soulmates. People come and go..but in the end it's me and him for each other. I'm telling you all this because I don't want you to get hurt by him eventually and then end up hating me for the rest of your life” she spoke softly. Despite her gentle tone, you felt the jab of her words and the dismissive attitude towards your relationship with Daemon.

“Okay ummm..maybe you should talk to him about this because I don't think he's on the same page as you anymore”

You mumbled as politely as you could as you didn't really want to offend her in her own space and her well crafted delusions but it was apparent that your words had bothered her greatly..

Her smile dissipated for a moment but she quickly recovered and gave you a sly retort. And then she said something to you that hurt you to the core especially after what he had said to you last night about you and him being Us.

“I don't think so..i don't think he'd have made love to me last night if he wasn't on the same page as me..he's just upset but he'll get over it.. he's my Daemon i know him”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Note : Raise your hands if you think she lying.

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tmlbdv

@ammo23

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Bear in mind, season 2 aired/took place circa 2006, so references like iPods are going to be dated lol. 

Word Count: 5,500 Warnings: M-rated chapter ahead—18+ only! Angst, smut, fluff, and feels. Oh yeah, and kidnapping.

Part 10: Worthy

In the months after John Winchester’s death, Sam and Dean spent even more time on the road than before. Hunting down the demon, as well as trying to find the Colt. 

You helped them the best you could with research on their various cases. However, now that you had been promoted to Library Curator at the museum, you had even more access to scholarly research and ancient texts, but even less time on your hands. 

If you were honest (and you weren’t), it was getting harder to balance your real job and Sam and Dean’s requests. But you knew if you said so, Dean would never ask you for help again. At the end of the day, it kept you connected to them. And you liked helping out.

The next time the brothers came home marked a few months shy of two years since you’d met Dean. When they were a day’s drive away, he called you to ask you something he’d never asked before… 

He wanted to take you out to dinner. 

You had cooked for him before. He had cooked for you. You two had ordered in and gone to grab dinner with Sam in tow. But in almost two years, you and Dean had never gone on an actual dinner date, getting dressed up, just the two of you. 

Needless to say, you were very excited…but you also had no idea what to wear. 

Dean had seen you in the professional blouses, slacks, and skirts you wore for work. He’d seen you in ratty old college shirts and yoga pants while slurping ramen noodles from a plastic cup. He’d also seen you in nothing but one of his old buttoned-down shirts, and then, in nothing at all.

But he’d never seen you dressed to kill. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t pull it off, because you most certainly could. It had just…been a while. 

So you dove into the shadowy recesses of your closet and searched for something you knew he hadn’t seen before. And you might’ve gone to the mall and bought a couple new pieces of lingerie, just in case the night went really well.

You were grateful Dean gave you a full day’s notice. It gave you the time to mentally prepare, but you still had to call him again to verify a few things.

“Okay, but where are we going?” you asked. “Casual dressy or dressy, dressy?”

Dean chuckled. “I have no idea what that means.” 

He sounded tired to you, but the playful note in his voice still made you smile.

“It means just tell me where we’re going,” you said with a laugh. 

“Nope,” he refused. “But here’s what I can do for you. I’ll be leaving the leather jacket at home this time.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s something, at least. Man, you really are the worst with these little guessing games.”

“I think you mean the best,” he joked. “Remember, I’ll be there by seven tomorrow.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was still laughing when you hung up on him. You now had a plan though. 

The next day was a Friday. You were able to get off work right at five, but that still only gave you two hours to shower and fix yourself up. Not nearly enough time, you lamented, but you made it work. 

Your dad, blessedly, was working late again. So you had the house to yourself as you played your music loudly and danced to the beat while you finished up your makeup. 

Then around seven, a knock sounded at the front door. Wow, he’s actually on time.

You swallowed a small swell of nerves in your throat. Stop being silly, you told yourself. And you were careful in your heels on your way down the stairs. You checked yourself real quick in the mirror, just to make sure your hair and everything else was in place. Then you looked into the door’s peephole.

With a smile, you unlocked and opened the door. Dean was there to greet you with a familiar grin, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of you. You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame.

“We’re all stocked up on Girl Scout cookies, thanks,” you teased. Dean’s grin kicked up into a smirk. 

“I’m not here to sell you anything, sweetheart,” he said. His hot gaze took you in—from your softly curled hair to your dark red lipstick, to the black suede dress that clung to your every curve and fell to mid-thigh, and finally down to your scarlet red heels. Then his eyes traveled all the way back up to yours. 

“But I’ll bet you could get me to sell my soul with just those heels,” he said. 

Your brain stuttered to a halt. You couldn’t help but blush at the flirtatious depths in his voice, overlayed with a fine layer of charm. It didn’t take much for Dean to turn it on, but when he did, you could guess how many panty-dropping one liners he’d had in his arsenal before he met you.  

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself. True to his word, he’d forgone his typical leather jacket (though you were fond of it) for a solid black jacket. He’d paired it with a charcoal gray button-down and some dark wash jeans. (You suspected that Sam had given some pointers for this ensemble.)

His familiar pendant still hung from his neck though, along with his mom’s ring on his right hand. He was still Dean, but he looked good enough to eat. 

His smirk deepened, and you realized he’d likely heard that thought. 

Damn it. 

You hadn’t seen him in a long time, so you forgot you’d have to pull your thoughts back from the soul bond sometimes. Right now though, it was all you could do to stop from dragging him into the house and kissing him senseless.

Dean shook you out of your thoughts when his hands found the curve of your waist. You looked up at him, holding onto the edges of his jacket. 

“Sam’s not joining us for dinner?” you asked innocently, while knowing full well he wasn’t. Dean leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek, down to your neck where he caught the pleasant, sexy scent of your perfume. He felt you shudder a bit at the sensation of his lips across your skin. 

“Nope. It’s adults only tonight,” he said. Pressed against him as you were, you felt the reverberation of his voice in your chest. It was a very pleasant sensation that pooled warmth in your lower belly, and down between your legs. 

Dean came back to your lips, letting his ghost over yours. He didn’t want to ruin that pretty red lipstick (but he also really, really did).

You played into it; your smile brushed against his lips while your fingers dragged down his chest. “Then, maybe you should take me…”

You shifted on your feet, letting your thigh graze between his legs. You felt his fingers dig into the small of your back, and you reached back to grab his hand and unwrap his arms from your body.  

“…To this mystery restaurant,” you said. “‘Cause I’m really freakin’ hungry.”

You flashed him a smile and slipped between him and the front door. You tossed him your house keys so he could lock it. As you walked down the driveway toward the Impala, you felt his disbelief, a lance of annoyance, but also his amusement. And a hot flare of desire while he watched you walk away from him.   

You crossed your arms again and leaned against the passenger door of the Impala while you waited for Dean. He locked the front door and returned to the Impala while pointing a finger at you.

“You play too much,” he said. Your smile deepened. 

As it turned out, he didn’t take you to the most expensive restaurant in town, or just to the local diner either. It was a nice Columbian steakhouse that ended up being the perfect place for both of you: a cozy atmosphere with Latin music, a historically Columbian-owned restaurant, and an interesting culture of food for you to enjoy—and a series of revolving smoked meats for Dean. 

You noticed though, that while your boyfriend was enthusiastic about the food, he still seemed off somehow. His smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, and while he looked great, he also looked tired. He didn’t have 100% of his usual swagger going on, and that was enough cause for concern. From what Sam had told you, Dean had been doing better in working through their father’s death.

“Dean.” You laid a hand on his knee while he put yet another cheese bun into his mouth. You earned his attention regardless. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Tired.”

He shook his head and thankfully answered after he swallowed. “Nah, just a long drive. What, you’re not having fun?” 

You smiled. “No, I am. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m good, baby.”

But you could tell he was hiding something—from the bond, and from you. You frowned at him.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” you said in a quiet, but firm voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You can trust me.”

After a moment, Dean’s pleasant expression faded. A more genuine, rueful smile overtook his features. He took your hand from his knee and pressed it to his lips. He looked down for a few seconds, just thinking, and you gave him the time he needed to do it. 

He appreciated that about you. Though you were a curious person by nature, and stubborn about it, in moments like this you never rushed him. You gave him room to breathe. 

“Do you know what a djinn is?” he asked. 

You blinked at him in curiosity. That wasn’t at all what you’d expected him to say. 

“Yeah. I mean, djinn, genies—they’re all over Middle Eastern mythology,” you said, and with a more teasing smile, “And not just in Aladdin.”

Dean inclined his head. “Very good, Professor.”

“I’m guessing they’re real too?” you asked. 

“Yeah, nasty sombitches,” he confirmed. He explained that with just one touch, a djinn could propel you into a fantasy of your own making. A dream world, where you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of—at the price of getting your blood sucked dry in the real world. 

You grimaced. “Ech. Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ Disneyland,” Dean quipped. 

“I’m assuming you and Sam ran into a djinn?” you said. 

Dean nodded. His gaze fell away from you as his thoughts drifted back to that world. That place where his family was more or less whole. Where his mom was still alive, and his family had never been sucked into hunting. Where Dean had met you while on a road trip with his dad and married you a year later. Where his little brother had become a lawyer and Dean a firefighter.   

His father had died too soon in that world too, but it hadn’t been a gruesome, lonely death caused by a demon. The only real obstacle in that perfect world had been that he’d drifted away from his little brother. They didn’t have a great relationship in that world, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t overcome with a few beers and a couple of heart-to-hearts in the Impala. 

But it hadn’t been real. 

Dean explained all of this to you over dessert, and you listened with rapt attention. You felt all the emotions he couldn’t readily express. 

“I saw what my life could’ve been like,” he admitted. “And I wanted it, more than anything.”

“But this is what’s real, and you chose it,” you said. “That’s what matters.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. You were grateful that he shared this with you, but you could also tell that this had been plaguing his mind. You also didn’t want him to have to wallow in it anymore. What you wanted was to help perk him up, or distract him somehow…

So when he dipped his spoon into the large chocolate brownie in front of him, you parried his spoon with yours and stole his scoop. He looked up at you with raised, incredulous brows. 

“What just happened here?” he asked.

You shrugged, smiling as you licked your spoon clean. Dean’s lips pressed together, but in the name of keeping the night pleasant, he decided to let it go. 

Once again, he delved into the brownie. And once again, you took his piece with your own spoon, even taking a bit of vanilla ice cream with it. 

“This is really good,” you said, humming in delight. “You should try some.”

Dean quirked his head at you. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused. 

“I’m tryin’,” he wryly replied. With a purposeful hand, he wielded his spoon and took a nice corner piece. Sure enough, your spoon came in to intercept him. But his left hand closed around your wrist. His gaze flicked up to yours. 

“You’re playin’ with fire here, sweetheart,” he warned. You went for your glass of wine with your free hand and took a sip.

“Am I?” you asked. “I thought we agreed to share.”

He leaned in close, until there were mere inches between your faces. “I don’t share food.”

You took his challenge for what it was, and you leaned in until your lips were nearly brushing his.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sat back and sipped at your wine again. You seemed to have no further interest in dessert, so Dean nodded to himself and raised the corner piece of brownie to his lips. 

Only to have you snatch his spoon from his hand and take the bite yourself. You washed it down with some water this time. While Dean sat back in shock, you offered him a smile. 

“This’s a great place. We should definitely come back here,” you said.  

For a moment, all Dean could do was stare at his damn-near empty plate. When he gathered himself, he looked over at you and smiled dangerously. 

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed. 

You finished your wine while Dean paid for the meal. He wouldn’t accept your money even though you offered to pay half. He asked you out, so he should pay, he reasoned. (He also ordered an extra brownie to-go.)

Anticipation ran down your spine the longer it took to get back to the car. You could feel his silent simmer, but also his patience. You knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him, but you also knew he was waiting for the right moment. Most likely when you two had some real privacy. 

But before you could open the passenger side door of the Impala, Dean’s hand stopped you. You let him maneuver you around and press you against the door, and you held onto his jacket for balance. You grinned when he bent down and claimed your lips with his own, demanding, sensuous, and greedy. 

You clung to his arms as he basically devoured you in the restaurant’s parking lot. His hands were hot on your hips, then kneading your butt, pulling you flush against him as your fingers curled into his hair.  

You hadn’t taken Dean for a PDA kind of guy; he was very private about who knew you were together. But then again, it wasn’t too often that you two went out in public, considering this was the first proper date you and Dean had ever been on. 

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said against your lips, but the effect was kind of lost when you could feel his amusement and searing desire. You giggled against him. 

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can deal with that.”

He pinched your butt, making you yelp and tighten your hand in his hair on reflex. He groaned into your mouth. 

“Take me home,” you said. Dean nodded, but he was reluctant to let go of you. Eventually he withdrew his hands and opened the passenger side door for you. 

First, you smoothed down his jacket and wiped away some of the lipstick from his mouth and chin with your thumb. His charming, full-watt Dean grin was back, and it warmed you up from the inside out. 

That night, in your bed, you and Dean made up for months of separation. You were starved for his touch, and Dean realized that with no small measure of guilt. 

He tried to focus on being here with you, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like he was somehow taking something from you when he made love to you. Like that hit and run you once accused him of.

This is what Dad warned me about, he couldn’t help but think. 

You both laid on your bed together afterwards, dewy with sweat and a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. But as great as it had been for you, you knew that Dean was distracted again. 

The moment you heard him think about his father, it brought you back to that day in the hospital. 

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” John had said. 

But why? You sat up against the headboard, bringing the sheets up to cover yourself. Meanwhile, Dean was coming back from freshening up in the bathroom. He then started tinkering with your iPod and speaker on your nightstand. But he frowned while scrolling through most of the songs. 

Ugh. Avril Lavigne. Really? You heard him think to himself. A smile threatened to curve your lips as he continued to grumble at your playlist. But eventually he settled on “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. That was neutral ground you could both agree on.

“Dean,” you found yourself saying, before you could think about it. He joined you back in bed, sitting beside you. 

“When I was fourteen, I remember it snowed the day of my mom’s funeral,” you continued. “I was standing there in the cemetery when it started. I was…well, a wreck. I looked up at the flurries, and I heard something.”

It’s not fair!

“I didn’t realize it then, but I think I was hearing you for the first time.” You looked over at Dean, and he met your gaze. 

“Sam and I were carted off to Bobby’s a few times when we were kids,” he admitted. “It’s possible.”

You gathered your courage, and you asked the question you had been holding onto for almost a year. 

“Did you ever…hear me? Before last year.”

Dean sensed that this was a leading question. You already knew something, or at least thought you did. He sighed.

You sat up straighter and faced him.

“Talk to me,” you implored. Dean hesitated, but after a moment, he answered. 

“It was around seven…eight years ago now. I was working a case with my dad near your school. That university.”

You thought back, and it must’ve been when you were getting your bachelor’s degree. Dean explained that he was about twenty-three, making you twenty at the time. And he started to feel you, hear you. It freaked him the hell out. 

“A killer dog nearly took my head off because…anyway, the point is, I figured out what it was,” he said. 

“But you left,” you said, both hurt and angry. “Why the hell didn’t you reach out to me?”

“My dad told me something,” Dean said. “He said I shouldn’t bring you into my life if I couldn’t hang up my gun. You know what…he was right.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Look at what’s happening,” he said. “I’m on the road with Sam tryin’ to hunt this demon, pulling you away from your job with research, dragging you out in the middle of the night because I’m on death’s door. It’s enough!” 

You didn’t like the sharpness in his tone, or the stubborn look in his eyes. That was another thing you’d learned about Dean. When he got an idea of something in his head, a conviction, he wasn’t going to let it go in a hurry. 

Too frustrated to remain in bed, Dean got up and started dressing. You watched him put on his underwear and jeans in disbelief. But you stole his gray dress shirt before he could put it on. He wasn’t about to leave you like this. 

So you put on the shirt yourself and stood in his way. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he told you.

“Who says?” you challenged. “We’re doing what works for us.”

“That’s my point. It’s not working. And it’s not fair to you.”

“When have I ever asked for fair?” You wanted to know. You had never complained, never asked anything of him except for two things: to keep in touch with you, and not to lie to you. 

“This WiFi connection goes both ways, remember?” he countered. “You can try hiding it all you want, but you hate this long-distance crap. Pretty soon you’re gonna start hating me…and shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You didn’t know what to make of that resigned look on his face, but it struck at your heart. 

You hefted a sharp sigh. “Didn’t you say that this was just temporary? That after you and Sam killed the Yellow Eyed demon, then you could come home?”

“It took Dad our whole lives just to track Yellow Eyes down,” Dean said. “Then it killed him.”

So he was saying this could take his whole life too. Part of you knew that, but you didn’t want to accept the reality that you could be living half a life with him forever. 

You didn’t realize it then, but Dean took your silence as a sign.

“Look, I get it,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like we can just…cut the cord here. But I’d understand if you don’t want to keep doing this.”

For a moment, you stared at him uncomprehendingly. But if he’d just taken half a second to look at your face—to read the truth in your roiling emotions, he wouldn’t have kept running his mouth.

“Truth is, you deserve better than what I got to give,” he said. His hand raised to card through his hair, an anxious gesture. You knew in the way his eyes shifted away. 

A tremor of disbelief and dismay coursed through you.

What he had to give.

A man who'd first offered his protection while barely even knowing you. Who comforted you when you needed him, and celebrated your achievements instead of belittling them. Who believed in you when you told him about working yourself up at the museum. Who empowered you to hold your ground, and speak up for yourself.

A man who'd rather be alone than keep hurting you.

“Baby,” you tried, grasping his arm. Still, he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. 

You pushed him back with both hands on his bare chest when he tried to get around you. “Stop!”

He said your name in a sharp warning. You shook your head stubbornly. 

“Do you want me out of your life?” you asked. “Is that really what you want?”

Dean finally looked down at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line, his brows crunched over his eyes…but he couldn’t answer you.

“Then stop it!” you said. “Just fucking stop it. I’m tired of hearing you think that you’re not good enough.”

Dean’s expression slackened. 

“Stop lying to yourself,” you said sternly. “I don’t care what you think I want. Whatever ‘together’ means for us is what we’re going to do. Because you are worth it.”

That was your conviction. He'd been fighting for his family his entire life. And now for you, in a way. So the least you could do was fight for him.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hard right now. On both of us,” you said with a nod. “But if you think I’m going to let go just because of that, then you don’t know me at all yet, Dean.” 

Your frown solidified into a look of determination. 

“But goddamn it, you’re gonna learn.”

His mouth fell open a bit, and his soft surprise gave way to shock when you rocked forward, taking his face between your hands. He accepted your hard kiss, the uncharacteristic way you demanded from him, claimed his lips and his tongue, and the frustrated pace of removing each other’s clothes again. 

For once, you took control and pushed Dean down to the bed. He let you do it too. It was an electrifying turn on—to have your hands be firm instead of gentle, but still purposeful in how you touched him. 

And you did. You straddled his lap, and between fierce kisses, you mapped out his body with your hands. He held you by your hips, but you soon pushed him down onto the bed. With wet, nipping kisses, you burned a path from his neck, down his chest and sternum, down the defined “V” between his hips. 

His breathing deepened the further you went, because Christ had it been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him. He supposed you weren’t the only one starving.

Your lips grazed and nipped the inside of his thigh, getting ever closer to where you knew he wanted you. His hand raised to tangle in your hair, but you moved his hand away and trapped it onto the bed. Your challenging gaze met his, and Dean raised his brows. 

No touching, unless I say so, you said through the bond. A smirk raised the corner of his lips. 

Yes, ma’am, he replied, making you smile. You then renewed your attention to the task at hand. You settled between his legs lowered down, where the object of your focus was standing perfectly at attention. You let your lips graze his dick. Careful touches, and really, a bit teasing. Dean sucked in a breath when your hands joined your lips, just soft caresses along its length, underneath, over its sensitive head. It was both exactly what he wanted and nowhere near enough.

His hand fisted into the pillow behind his head and the comforter underneath him. Your name fell from his lips—both a prayer and a plea. He felt the shape of your smile in a kiss, pressed against his thigh. 

I’ve got you, baby, you said. Finally, your lips descended on him and you took as much of his dick as you could into your mouth. Something between a moan and a grunt fell from Dean’s lips as you worked him over, with your hands joining your warm, wet mouth. He itched to touch you, but you were relentless and held his wrist down onto the bed. 

With his free hand, he grabbed onto the headboard as his back arched involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go. You had him trapped, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

But just when he felt that crest of pleasure nearing and thought he was going to see black on the edges of his vision, you let him go with a soft pop. You leaned your arms on his raised knees and wiped your mouth. You looked down at his incredulous face with a mischievous little smile. 

Dean made a sound of both shock and frustration as he tried to catch his breath. His head hit the pillow while his hand went to his wildly beating heart. 

“Well, that’s just rude,” he uttered. When he was able to speak, that is. You stifled a laugh and moved up to cover that hand on his chest with yours. He flinched, but you were able to offer apologetic kisses. He reluctantly accepted them. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips. You took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm, then brought it to your cheek. Despite the playful, annoyed suspicion in his eyes, he stroked your cheek with affection. He saw your game, and he begrudgingly admired it—and you.

Smiling, you sat back on his bare thighs and brought both of his hands to your body, grazing down your neck to cup your breasts. You sighed as his thumbs brushed over your pert nipples and kneaded the soft flesh. 

“Is this for me, or for you?” he teased. You shot him a playful glare. For that, you lowered his hands further down your body and guided his hand to the very wet folds between your legs. 

“I’m letting you touch me now,” was your cheeky reply. 

Dean smirked, but he sat up and obliged, gathering your wetness with his fingers and stroking your clit with deliberate movements. You shuddered a breath as he slipped a long finger inside you, followed closely by another. All the while, his thumb drew wet circles around your sensitive clit and brought you to the edge of your release. 

From that very first night together so long ago, he’d been learning how to play you like a five-string guitar. Tonight was no different, and despite how you’d edged him earlier, he had no qualms about making you come all over his hand. 

Your fingers delved into his hair, and you mentally praised him while you caught your breath, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He held you to him as you shook. But after a few moments, he leaned back to look into your eyes. 

Through your connection, you felt his playfulness grow and you just knew he was about to say something smartass. But right now, you were still in control. So you stopped his smart mouth with yours and claimed his lips with another deep kiss. 

You slipped a hand between your bodies, and this time you took a firmer hold of his dick. It was still a bit wet from your earlier treatment, and you stroked him a few times. His grateful moans sounded in your ear as he gripped your arms tight. You closed your eyes for a second, inwardly preparing yourself, before you sheathed him inside you. You both breathed hard as you adjusted and settled on top of him. 

He grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, soothing down his back. “I know. Damn, you feel so good.”   

You pushed him back down again so you could find the right angle that would serve both of you. Then you started to move over him. Dean dropped his head hard against the bed. To help him out, you gave him something to grab onto and guided his hand to your hip. He squeezed the flesh there, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises later, you were sure. But the brief pain was a good motivator—it let you know when he was close to his breaking point. 

You reached down with your fingers to further part your folds and rub hot circles around your already sensitive clit again. You felt a flutter in your lower belly as that familiar, inexplicable thread of energy within you stuttered; the part of your soul that recognized its equal, its match. The bond hummed and grew hot and pulsing. 

Finally, its warmth washed over you. 

You gasped and grabbed ahold of Dean’s arms as you almost got lightheaded at the feeling. Dean was going through the same tumble of sensations as he uttered a strangled sound, spilling inside you. 

But he had good reflexes; he steadied you, with his arms wrapping around your frame and holding you to him. He eased you over back onto the bed, and then slid out of you.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The frenzy of your earlier argument had fueled what just happened, but now that tension had dissolved into a hard-won peace. 

When he was able to move, Dean reached out to hold the side of your face. He tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile for him was soft. You sensed he was thinking, searching for what he wanted to say. So again, you waited, slipping a discarded blanket over your naked body. 

“Okay, I think I hear you,” Dean said. “I love you, you know that?”

Your smile grew. He’d repeated the words you confessed to him when he was in the hospital all those months ago. And it was the first time he’d said what he felt for you.

You held a hand by your ear. “What was that?” 

Dean’s lips raised into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. He slid an arm underneath you to pull you against his side. 

“I love you,” he said, “so damn much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, but not without some exasperation. All this craziness, just to finally get on the same page. You grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks. “That's my point.”

You made a sound of frustration before you released him. Dean laughed a bit, closing his eyes. You enjoyed his more carefree smile as you rested against his chest.

This man, you thought, is damn lucky he’s adorable.

He cut into your thoughts dryly, Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.

You rolled your eyes. 

At least we made it through our first real fight, you said. In spectacular fashion, I might add.

Yeah, but you played dirty, said Dean. 

You just smiled. 

The next morning, you and Dean woke up after your dad had presumably left for work. You were grateful. It spared you from the awkwardness of a “morning after” in your father’s presence. 

I really need to get my own place.

So you made coffee while Dean made some toast and eggs for breakfast. But he got a call just as he was plating the eggs.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he answered. The more your uncle spoke, the more serious Dean’s expression got. You sensed a flare of his panic and you turned to him in concern. The plate in his hand hit the table with a clatter. 

“Where?” Dean said. His tone was sharp and worried. “I’m comin’ now.”

Dean ended the call and abandoned the food to grab his jacket. He explained before you could ask the predictable question. 

“Sam went missing this morning on a coffee run,” Dean said. “When Bobby got to the diner to check on him, the whole place had been cleared out, except for the bodies of the brunch crowd.”

You gasped and raised a hand to your mouth in shock. “What happened to Sam?” 

Dean’s face became grim and angry as he grabbed his wallet and keys. 

“Bobby found sulfur all over the place. He thinks Yellow Eyes took him,” he said. “…I’ve gotta go.”  

It was late fall, so you grabbed a coat from the rack and your purse. “I’m going with you.”

Dean halted at the doorway, and that stopped you short behind him. He turned around and gave you a firm look.

“No you’re not, damn it!” he said. “You’re staying here.”

“Are you kidding me?” you said. “The last time you faced this thing, it almost killed you!”

“You’ve got a job, remember?” he pointed out. You shook your head.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday, upon which I’ll take a couple of sick days if I need to.” Your words were both a warning and a promise. “Just let me help you find Sam. I’m handy with research. You know I can help!”

Dean didn’t like it. He had half a mind to keep arguing with you, but he really didn’t have time for this. He made a sound of aggravation and rubbed a hand over his face. 

He then levied a finger at you. “You’re staying in the car. When we get there, you don’t argue with me. You do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. Normally you would take issue with being ordered by your boyfriend, but in the world of dark and evil things, you would follow Dean’s lead. 

So you hid a triumphant smile as you locked up your house, then followed him to the Impala.

AN: Whew! Well, then lol. The reader finally gave Dean a piece of her mind (among other things). How'd you like their first date? 😉

Dean definitely gives me Joey vibes from Friends when it comes to sharing food. 😂

But as the chapter title implies, we also dug in a bit on how Dean sees himself vs. how his soulmate sees him.

So a lot of drama this time, but ending on another good ol' cliffhanger. AKA: Where the hell is Sam?

Next up, some action! Heading into 2.21: All Hell Breaks Loose (Pt. 1).

To keep reading: PART 11

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Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[terezicaptor]

i have an offering. i was inspired by the post you made... about tubbo and pac... wrote this at work so it migth be a bit messy

A grin split across Pac's face as he finally spotted the person he had been looking for during the past hour. Shooting his hand up into the air he waved it until he got the bear's attention. Fred turned to him with a tilt of his head, the perfect picture of pure confusion. 

“Is Tubbo a good kisser?” He asked, jumping straight to the point with what he knew was a stupid grin on his face. 

Fred stared at him blankly. Although, Pac thought, he wasn't quite sure they could make any expression that wasn't blank due to the lack of human features that usually signified emotion. 

“Why?” Fred signed. 

Pac bounced on his feet, energy coursing through his body. “I'm curious. He seems like he would be a good kisser and I figured you would know since you two are…” he trailed off, not exactly sure what to call them. “You know.” 

Fred stared at him a long moment before signing, “I do not know. We have never engaged in that particular action.” 

Pac gasped, his hand instinctively flying to his mouth. “You haven't?? Wow. That's okay though. Fit hasn't kissed me yet either.” He laughed. “I would kiss him but I'm waiting for him to be ready. Take it easy take it easy you know?” he said in a humorous attempt at Fit's voice. “Hey I mean I could find out for you?” He offered, flinging his arms around to try and seem casual. Trying to not let any of the eagerness threatening to burst out of him shine through. 

“Yes.” 

Pac grinned, not being able to stop himself. “Sim, sim, great. I will find out for you, Fred.” Without another word or glance at the worker, he bounced off, pulling open his map to find out where Tubbo was. 

-

Tubhaus was loud, machinery whirring loudly from all different parts of the man's factory. Tubbo stood in the middle of the main building next to a laughing Sunny. Pac bounded over and called out to them both. They both turned with matching smiles on their faces. “Oi!” 

“Oi, Pac. What brings you here today?” Tubbo asked, one hand looped in the belt carrying his tools around his waist and the other dangling by his side. 

Pac grabbed the one dangling by his side and lowered his voice, steeling his expression. “I'm doing a very important experiment.” 

Tubbo's eyes lit up. “And you need my help?” 

Pac nodded grimly. “Sim, sim, your help is exactly what I need.” 

“Okay,” Tubbo said nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What do I do?” 

The serious expression on Pac's face was finally broken by that. “Just stand here.” 

Tubbo's eyebrows dipped down in confusion before Pac pulled him flush against his body with their connected hands and kissed him. 

Pac wasn't quite sure what he expected but this, Tubbo grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him deeper into it, was not it. A noise of surprise escaped his mouth and he reached out to grab at Tubbo's waist. It was more passionate than he had expected, desperate. 

They pulled apart with loud gasps from both parties and Pac felt dizzy looking into Tubbo's gorgeous swirling eyes. He hated water, that green and blue of waves but inside of Tubbo's eyes they were heavenly instead of scary. 

“What the fuck,” Tubbo said with a slight laugh. 

Pac pulled back giggling. “Oh you know research and stuff.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sunny staring at him with wide confused eyes. “Anyway, bye Tubbo, bye Sunny!!” And before either of them could protest he was warping away. 

THIS IS SO GOOOODDDDDD OMG

Fred just being like "??? OK you can go find out what kissing my not boyfriend is like ig" is so funny to me. Their ass does Not care.

And Pac's like it's cool my bf wants to take it slow too ^^ and then he's like time to go kiss this guy's not bf

Tubbo being sooo happy that Pac is there and then acting like Pac is acting wild like he wasn't the guy definitely trying to get some tongue in there okayyyy. the internalized homophobia is alive and real in tubchunk

THEN PAC JUST DIPPING LMAOOOOOO

You know Tubbo's ass is bragging to Fit later about kissing his boyfriend before he did.

[truegoist]

##REO BF HCS !! requested by anon !!

WARNINGS: gn reader ,

-despite having girls (AND boys) fawning over him for practically all his life he never showed particular interest in any of them, that was until his eyes landed on you

-due to not being interested in romance for such a long time he’s not very experienced in dating but my guys trying his best to be a boyfriend worthy of you, in his words

-openly and really spoils you, you had your eye hooked on a item for 0.1 seconds? he’s buying it for you. price doesn’t matter, if you want it you’re getting it.

-on that note he absolutely loves it when he sees you wearing clothes and jewelry he buys for you, show them off and he’s a goner

-he learns romance from books and shows so unfortunately, he’s extremely cheesy but come on, let this man have his cheese he deserves it (try to bear how lame your boyfriend can be pls)

-he likes to have his hand in your back pocket or wrapped tightly around your waist while walking, reo also likes it when you link your arms together like a old couple

-other than that he isnt really fond of pda, his family raised him to be like that and he can’t help but think it’s improper. He’s absolutely stuck to you when you two are alone though

-his ideal date is going to movies together and then talking about it (or pretty much any thing) while sitting in a cafe

-a personal hc that he has a nice singing voice especially suitable for lullabies so if you give him the puppy eyes for enough he might just sing you to sleep

-get used to nagi cause he’s third wheeling to you two in any chance he has and he’s really obnoxious about it too, he doesn’t care if you’re having the lady & the tramp moment, he wants to give his order. But don’t you worry, you��ll soon start to see him as a oversized house cat

-this man has hyperfixations, he can rant you about his interests for hours while laying on your lap. He is really ready to listen to you do the same as well, he does his research just to be able to ask you questions about it

-he’s really used to luxury so he sometimes gets shocked on your ehem “humble” lifestyle and it sometimes gets annoying. but come on what do you mean you’ve never ate caviar??

-reo melts when you do things for him no matter how small they are, fixing his tie? Careying around a hair tie around your wrist for him? TYING HIS HAIR FOR HIM??? He will die

-for someone as amazing as him, he’s totally lame. he gets excited over the most simple things, can’t shitalk to save his life, is very cheesy and can be a brat sometimes but god isn’t he the cutest when he’s lame

-he paints your nails for you, he sucks at it but hey while he does it he always has you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder so it’s worth it

-DANCE WITH HIM !!!! even if you lack any kind of balance or rhythm just the act of *trying* to dance is so very romantic to him, plus he’ll pay for your dance lessons

-he loves talking about you, he’ll brag about you to pretty much anyone and this only has one backlash; since it’s from the perceptive of reo, people now think you’re some kind of god

[xoxotifia]

╭─────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡ ───

╰─────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡ ───

OCTONAUTS HEADCANONS + canon sprinkles part 2

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

PROFESSOR NATQUIK

— late 50s or early 60s

— speaks Russian and English (with a Russian accent, like he replaces “w” with “v” like “vas” and “z” like “zat”)

— if he gets pissed off, he’ll have the craziest Russian accent that you’ll think he’s trying to summon an ancient devil or something

— isn’t usually a drinker but flavored vodka hits different (he’s Russian, like be fr)

— Calico Jack and him are chaotic besties

— sometimes, if he doesn’t know what to respond, he just kind of goes 🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻

— taught Barnacles how to do field research when he was a Polar Bear Scout (canon ofc)

— always carries at least two forms of radio/some kind of long range communication on him at all times after being stranded in the Antarctic; he does not risk sh*t .

— when he lost connection to the radios he spent hours freaking out, while trying to fix the connection, causing him to slightly go insane + due to being alone for so long

— befriended the penguins in the Antarctic and they got him food and such (here)

— has ✨trauma✨ (he’s in need of therapy)

— a bit paranoid

— his fear response, fight or flight, is fight

— can’t sleep with noise; a lot of sounds keeps him alert since his ears are sensitive and therefore he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he’s used to the silence of the Antarctic

— a father figure to Barnacles (and Bianca)

— adding: Barnacles gave him a father’s day present as a cub once and they both cried

— any even just slightly traumatized child he comes across, he adopts (that’s his kid now)

— if he sees someone that he cares about cry he becomes a Dad™

— the only one who has seen Barnacles lose his temper / have a full-on breakdown

— gets frustrated quite easily

— hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in YEARS; if you gave him, like, hot soup, he’d cry pt.1

— part of the Old Mens Squad™

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

RANGER MARSH

— in his 50s

— ✨a Florida man✨, need I say more?

— has definitely wrestled an alligator before at least once and then acted like it’s normal (“why are you shocked? this is a typical tuesday”)

— sleeps like a brick no matter what; could possibly sleep through an earthquake

— uses the same catchphrases as Tweak; he’s the one she got them from!

— has no idea how advanced technology works but is learning and doing his Best™

— Tweak wants to fix his radio because it’s falling apart but he insists that it works fine (“I can’t even hear you when you call!” “That’s because you live in the ocean” “LET ME FIX IT”) .

— Tweak chewed on his hat when she was a kid and that’s why his hat has that bite mark (he refuses to buy a new hat because this one carries a memory of Tweak and he adores it)

— lowkey a dad to 90% of the Everglades creatures; they’re like family to him

— enjoys Florida Man memes; when he sees one he just goes “haha, I did that once,” and Tweak nods along knowingly and the others are like “???” (except Dashi, who is the one sending them to him either herself or through Tweak)

— sometimes sounds the Octo-alert just to talk to Tweak; free Tweak button

— part of the Old Mens Squad™

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

CALICO JACK

— late 60s

— the oldest Octo-Agent (may or may not deny it)

— has a Caribbean origin

— his mom was a Calico cat, hence his name Calico Jack

— his fear response, fight or flight, is flight; tends to panic when he realizes he made a mistake (lets out curses when no one’s around)

— kind, but not nice: before Kwazii was born, he was a merciless pirate like the others, but once Kwazii was born? Dude did a total 180° and always tried to positively influence his grandson, wanting him to be kind

— adding: since Kwazii was already starting to take after the pirate side of him and does get mistaken for his grandfather Calico Jack most likely got scared that something would happen to Kwazii, so mayhaps Jack went on a spree finding all his enemies (thinking they might mistake Kwazii for him and attack) like Whitebeard, Pirate King, all of em and ‘took care of them’ so to speak

— has seen some truly weird and scary sh*t

— can’t sleep without noise; if it’s quiet he assumes that he’s in danger and therefore cannot sleep

— has ✨trauma✨

— adding: possibly in denial about it

— Pete is his Emotional Support Birb™

— hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in YEARS; if you gave him, like, hot soup, he’d cry pt.2

— Tweak tried to offer him a new, modern prosthetic but he refused because “it isn’t the pirate way”

— considered the greatest cat pirate ever; but what actually has meaning to Jack, is that Kwazii thinks he’s the greatest

— adding: definitely cried when he learnt that Kwazii thinks he’s great

— actually has a bad eye (unlike Kwazii) but can still see with it, just not very well

— has a sea-farer’s accent like his grandson, only deeper and gruffer in tone

— also, slightly less quick to blame mythical creatures for strange things that he and the Octonauts encounter

— since Kwazii originally thought that Jack died a long time ago, but found him alive in the Amazon, and pretty much able to leave whenever he wanted, Jack was most likely just hiding from the world (a mood tbh)

— like Ranger Marsh, pretends to sound the Octo-alert on accident to talk to Kwazii; free Kwazii button (he blames it on Pete)

— part of the Old Mens Squad™

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

PAANI

— late 20s

— Indian (canon but like, adding it anyway)

— a hydrologist (again, canon, but anyway)

— autistic? possibly.

— can sometimes take others too literally or not catch certain social cues immediately

— has a tendency to get attached to inanimate objects very easily

— despite how acquainted he becomes with most creatures on his travels, he struggles to keep closer friendships— probably has some kind of attachment issues

— has a habit of doing things without asking first, or like, considering how his actions may indirectly affect others before doing them, in the name of The Greater Good™

— is a lot like Kwazii but also has a lot of the same qualities as Barnacles ; the reason why he ends up in trouble is because he jumps in to protect creatures (without thinking much)

— definitely imitates Kwazii’s sea-farer’s accent and is actually kind of good

— taller than Kwazii (and teases him about it)

— gay or demiromantic demisexual

— impulsive and acrobatic

— sleeps in the most random positions that make you think how the f is he comfortable

— makes Kwazii reflect on his own actions because Paani does the same kind of stupid reckless sh*t that he does, so now it’s Kwazii who’s gotta to be like “you should have asked for help!” while Paani’s just like “I didn’t think I’d need it :3” (truly a Barnacles moment /hj)

— adding: Kwazii and Paani have a shared love for cooking, eating snacks, tiny/baby animals and telling stories

— sometimes visits Kwazii on the Octopod, holds story-telling nights with him and the Vegimals, and bakes with them

— enjoys surfing and paddle boarding a lot; goes with Dashi sometimes

— skilled at tracking storms and usually wants to see it up close (Kwazii agrees)

— likes birds a lot and has some kind of ability to bond with them easily

— got some sort of trauma; may or may not be aware of this (either in denial or has accepted it)

— favorite food is the jackfruit

— his comfort food is his Paani’s Patties and he brings them literally everywhere he goes

— when he gets excited about water, he kind of just forgets his surroundings and just talks and talks until someone stops him— because otherwise he’ll just keep going

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

MIN

— in her 60s? (I mean she’s in the same age range as Inkling since they’re old friends so)

— Chinese (canon, but adding it anyway)

— canon, but met Inkling when he got stuck clinging to bamboo after a storm, and saved him by carrying him down

— extremely flexible and talented when it comes to climbing trees/jumping through bamboo; she can jump high and flip while climbing rocky cliffs

— precise and accurate when drawing maps that it’s like black magic or something

— hosts tea parties with Inkling sometimes (and sometimes the others tag along!)

— sometimes hangs out with Ranger Marsh, Natquik and Calico Jack (the Old Mens Squad™)

— adding: she’s an honorary member of the Old Mens Squad™

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

BIANCA

— mid 30s or late 30s, the younger twin

— Canadian; she and her cubs live in a den in the Arctic, Northern Canada

— sometimes visits Pearl or has calls with her

— strong but nowdays isn’t just as strong as Barnacles; doesn’t stop her from calling him ‘Feather Paws’ though

— grew up with Barnacles as her only family

— learned independence and self-reliance at a young age, especially in the Polar Scouts

— when she heard the ship MV Manitoba, that Barnacles was on, crashed during a big storm she immediately went to look for him

— knows Russian because of Natquik

— doesn’t really admit it, but in a way, also sees Natquik as a father figure (maybe not as much as Barnacles does, but nevertheless)

— polar bears are the most carnivorous of the bear family, so she eats a lot of meat

— can handle a hot climate but not for very long; so she usually stays in the Arctic with the cubs (also since they can’t handle hot climate)

— sleeps with a picture of her and Barnacles

— when Barnacles comes to visit them in the Arctic and stays the night or two, Bianca and the cubs cuddle with him

— tells stories to Orson and Ursa about their Uncle Barnacles and her childhood

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

PEARL

— early 30s, older than Shellington

— a marine biologist

— has knowledge to everything there is to know about kelp forests and kelp plants

— looked after Shellington a lot when they were kids (has slight Older Sister Syndrome™)

— Scottish (yes I know otters don’t live there but idc, she and Shellington were born there end of discussion)

— now lives in British Columbia, Canada

— sometimes visits Bianca in the Arctic or has calls with her

— a bit more serious than Shellington and not as clumsy

— facetimes Shellington every week or Shellington facetimes her

— unlike Shellington, she’s not allergic to anything and also eats almost anything

— the Vegimals call her aunt (she finds it cute)

-ˋˏ ༻ ♡ ༺ ˎˊ-

NOTE : WILL BE UPDATED WHEN I FIND / COME UP WITH NEW STUFF !