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thelastofhyde · 4 months

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a mercenary named time.

pairing. jackson!joel x fem!reader

synopsis. as joel begins to age, memories of sarah are beginning to fade. though he wants nothing more than to talk to you about his troubles, there's something standing in his way: he never told you about sarah.

warnings. this is more joel x sarah centric than joel x reader oops, hurt/comfort, ageing + difficulties that come with it, grief, mentions of death/religion/afterlife+ generally other sensitive topics, fluff, does this count as whump? (v minimum editing/proofreading)

word count. 4.9k

hyde’s input. wrote this as an attempt to distract myself from the fact i was on a plane (i hate flying). not much happens plot wise, and it just becomes me analyzing joel (in my own way) halfway through but hey, i wrote it and, though it's nowhere near perfect, i'm gonna post it!

due to the ties tlou has with zionism, here are helpful posts/links regarding the ongoing genocide in palestine. from the river to the sea. ( post, link, post )

Aging has become a threat again.

A part of him wonders if the threat ever truly left, or if it simply migrated south of his brain, chasing a warmth only leisure possesses, to make way for a survivalist winter’s cold. With the safety of walls and the sanctity of the commune, at last he’s caught on to the passing of time, the slow-crawling spider who spun its web into his skin.

During the cold, there'd only been movement. Pacing down streets divided by those who live in fear and those who brandish riot gear, and tip-toeing past fungal-faced mutations, and stumbling in a daze of pain through snow to find her. A safety distance of unmarked miles, away from that hospital, is what it took for him to finally pull over, cut the engine and exhale. Out with the panic, and the urgency, and the fear. Ellie was there, laid across the back seats, a paper gown as blue as any April sky, a cursed relic upon her sleeping form, terrorising him with images of what could’ve been, had he failed to save her too.

In the warmth, there’s tranquillity. Stretched out legs upon worn out sofas, quiet hums of forgotten tunes on rescued guitars, tangled limbs on love-stained sheets. A home, a daughter, and a you, whatever you may be. A fallen angel, a summer fairy, a ray of sun. Any form you come from, he accepts it, welcomes it. Thanks it for bringing you to him, smelling fresh as a daisy, riding up next to him on his first patrol, smiling as sweet as the honey he’d eaten with his breakfast when you asked him if he needed help reigning in his horse.

No, he’d grunted more than spoken to you. And wound up flung off its back, ten paces later. From the ground staring up, he’d watched your face appear above him. Bitten back laughter, a stretched out hand, and a question of if he wanted to swap rides, take your mare for the day.

She’s far friendlier, you’d assured him, after he let you think it was your strength that pulled him back to his feet. Takes to strangers a little easier than him, you’ll be safe.

And he’d believed it, against his own nature.

Tommy had been the one to notice, to nudge him hours later and nod his head in your direction. Real sweetheart, ain’t she? Joel’d said nothing. Shrugged his shoulders, dipped his head, sipped the whiskey out his cup. Tracked your movement across the room like a hunter stalks its prey. Or, maybe, it was more like a bee examining a flower, wondering if the pretty vibrance of your outsides carried a match to your insides, if the taste of your soft petals was a great enough sweetness to satisfy a craving he’d long foregone.

Four months of observing later, spring came and he stung.

Since then, you’ve been his, whatever that may mean anymore.

He’d already been yours.

And yet he finds himself unable to tell you of his recent trouble, the emerging signs of his age that the needle of time has begun to stitch into his seams.

The greys that curl upon his head grow more frequent. Blink, and they seem to double. His skin stretches differently than before, at times it feels he wears it more than owns it. There’s aches, and pains, and cracks from his joints, where before there’d been numbness and tiredness. A back that refuses to straighten like it used to, no matter how hard he stretches under the fleeting warm drops of his morning shower.

A guilty conscience whispers in a voice much like Tess’, a memory of her telling him ageing means he’s still here, even if she’s not. It’s harder to find the good in it, anymore, when he has so much to lose again.

It’s his memory that scares him most. Like a photo album, the images within seem to fade with time and, the more he grabs at them, the more they wear away.

It started with something small. Forgetting you’d told him you would be heading over to visit Maria and the baby after your patrol shift, leading his heart to near beat out his chest as he raced down to the stables like some crazed man, rambling about how something’s happened to you, you’re not back, only for some kid- Jessie, a friend of Ellie’s- to tell him you came back hours ago. He’d pulled you a little tighter against him that night as you crawled into bed, the earlier unnecessary fear a little too visceral in his racing heart.

Then, it happened more often.

Ellie asked him to help her clean out the garage space for her, he forgot and agreed to cover someone’s turn cleaning the stables.

You told him of your love of mint tea, and instead he found you green.

Tommy asked him across the dinner table- a double date, a cause to debut Ellie’s first solo babysitting duties- if he remembered the name of that old bar they’d liked, and his mind was blank. Empty.

All of it, inconvenient. Yet he could brush it off, let it affect him only like a bruise: momentarily, till it faded.

Until recently.

Until the memories of her began to fade.

He’d woken up one morning, earlier than you like always. Kissed your sleeping face, creeped down the creaking staircase, switched on the stove to boil some coffee. And realised he could no longer remember what she’d liked better: pancakes or waffles.

A few weeks later, he tried recalling what shade of blue her soccer team’s kit was. Was it light blue? Or a darker blue, like fresh denim? Was it even blue at all?

Ellie asked him, the caution she used to bring towards mentioning her name long gone with the changing of seasons, if she’d liked any comic books. The sound of a runner, itching and twitching behind some fence interrupted before she could notice he didn’t have an answer.

Sure, she read. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught her curled up in bed, the light of her torch illuminating more than just the pages of a book, but her face, too expressive for her own good at times, reacting to each twist and turn of the story. Sometimes, he’d stand in that doorway, unnoticed, till her eyes dropped shut and the light rolled out her hand. Other times, he’d clear his throat, catch her off guard, and tell her get to bed, kiddo, or I’ll tell Mrs. Atkinson you’ll be round after school tomorrow.

What use is it, however, remembering all that, if he can’t remember if she liked comics?

He should talk to someone about it, he knows. He’d tried to, at first. Had tried to drink the courage into him, sat across Tommy one late night, sat around a fire as they settled in for a night in the ski lodge, stranded by some heavy snowfall. He failed then, just like he failed when he tried to tell Ellie, till she raced off to throw snowballs at some kids and he remembered she was too young to listen to his burden, too beaten by life already to deserve stress within the respite of Jackson’s sanctuary. When he failed a fourth time to speak to Tommy, the real issue dawned on him.

He wants to talk to you. You’re the one he talks to, the one he goes to bear his wounds to, trusting no other’s love but your own to patch him up and calm him down. There’s only one issue, however.

He’s not told you about Sarah.

It was never a conscious decision, some secret he’d chosen to hide. Speaking about her simply hurt and, after the arduous months of crossing the country with Ellie, finding a place to call home in Jackson, and learning to hold somebody close again, he’d wanted to get away from pain, for a little while.

Then came the first anniversary of her death spent inside the commune. He’d drank himself blind, like every year before. There’s a hazy memory of that night he’s glad to suppress, one where he’s covered in his own vomit and you’re struggling to hold his weight up under a pouring shower, the sounds of his sobs muffled into your soaked sweater. He’d awakened, and awaited the questioning. Expected to open his eyes and find you stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Seeing the room empty was a shock, but drifting slowly down the stairs and finding you scrubbing the stains out of his shirts near floored him.

The very same shirt you wear now, curled up on the sofa. Your eyes are shut, legs are bare, and there’s a gentle breeze that blows at the curtains you’d hung up, your first act upon moving in with him.

With a careful step, he avoids the creaking floorboard as he crosses the threshold. Slow as he can, he lowers the bag off his shoulder and props it gently against the wall, careful it doesn’t slip and let its contents spill out. Then he works at his laces, undoes them one by one, loosens them so his feet meet no resistance as he steps out of them. The summer’s heat affords him the liberation from heavy coats, less layers to shed now he’s returned to you at last.

You lay right, he strays left. Towards the kitchen, footsteps light as he can manage. Two chairs are pulled out at the table, two bowls sit drying neatly by the sink. Ellie must’ve stopped by for dinner. He’s glad to know she’s eaten, glad to know you kept each other company, glad to know the light is off in the shed and her snoring fills the hollow space. And he’s glad to find some food for him. He takes a bite, lifts the plate, finds a note beneath. Your handwriting, what do Joel Miller and breakfast have in common? followed by an arrow, urging him to turn the page around. The answer’s there, weakening his ageing knees. I can’t start my day without them.

Back by the sofa, a book sits split open, spine broken and pages pressed into ageing wood. Its cover is faded, frayed, much like he feels himself becoming.

He recognises it as one he’d gifted you, seasons ago. If he tries hard enough, he can remember the snow collecting in his unruly hair as he waited at your doorstep, and the way your smile melted the chill away, and the mumbling fool he’d made of himself upon handing the present over to you, some version of said you were bored, so I found this for you all he managed before turning on his heel and striding back to his own home, ignoring the teasing smile upon Ellie’s face.

After all this time, you still have it. Still read it. The fact slows his heart, soothes his aching back. Suddenly, he’s more than ready to head back out there, beyond the walls of Jackson, if it means collecting more books for you to remember him by when he’s long gone and withered away, no more than a familiar smell stained into your sheets and a fading warmth in the palm of your hand.

Two loud pops sound out of his knees as he crouches down by your side, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses the closer he grows to your sleeping form. There’s a want, nestled deep inside his bones, to pull you into his arms and deliver you upstairs to a bed made for two, in search of a peace his soul has not found since he’d left for his shift in the early hours of the morning. It would be cruel, however, to wake you when you’re so beautiful.

Joel once thought he’d liked you best when you were smiling, till you’d fallen asleep on his porch one night, after hours of talking his ears off. Since then he’s liked you best sleeping, resting. Comfortable enough to trust his watchful eye to keep any harm away while your body takes back its much needed rest, even on days like this when he’s not physically there. You’ve got his shirt, his scent embedded into every thread of it, and that’s enough to keep you safe.

The rough of his fingertips reach out to graze the soft of your cheeks, gently dancing up to comb a few strands of damp hair away from your face. It seems you’ve gained your own spider, the faintest of lines beginning to take shape upon your skin. You wear it better than him, Joel thinks, the passing of time upon your body a picture of love, and prosperity, and hope for more time to come. He wears it like a burden, however. A death sentence, a timer on how long till the cold hand of Death takes the place of your warm one clasped in his.

Adjusting to a life he fears to leave has not been easy. There’d been a time where the promise of death was a comfort. To wake each day, reckless with his time and mindless to his body, a thought of all the pain, and all the sorrow, and that overwhelming, heavy, overbearing loneliness that hung over him like a storm cloud at last coming to an end and ceasing to exist, it had kept him going. Though faith died alongside her, a dream of reuniting with his babygirl on the other side was one he clung to on nights when no drop of alcohol and no unlabeled pill was enough to send him off to sleep. Death now, however, means parting from you, from Ellie, from Tommy. It no longer comforts so much as it disturbs him.

Would you comfort yourself, in the wake of his death, with dreams of reuniting someday, down the line, when Death takes you by the hand and guides you back to Joel?

He can only hope his babygirl can forgive the way he now longs to keep living, in spite of her waiting patiently for him in whatever comes after this life. Perhaps his failing memory is a consequence of this, a punishment she sends for making her wait even longer to feel his embrace again, slowly stealing away the only parts of her Joel has anymore.

Even in guilt, he can’t bring himself to believe his Sarah would do such a thing. Her heart was never touched by the bitterness that had hardened his own, her soul pure a freshly fallen snow.

I want you to be loved, dad. Echoes of her voice in his mind, words she’d confessed to him with teary eyes, a half-eaten birthday cake sitting between them, two candles, one in the shape of three, the other a zero, tossed messily on the table. There’d been no real fuss for his thirtieth, at his own insistence. Just his parents, his brother, his daughter. Those he loved, gathered around one table, eating away at food he’d made.

I’m already loved, kiddo. I got you, don’t I?

Joel knew what it meant to feel unloved. For a long time, that’s all he felt. The love only a child could gift died just as quickly in his arms as she had, under the watchful teary eyes of his brother. Grief he dragged around with him, dedicated to both her and the love he no longer felt.

First came denial. A steady 48 hours post-mortem, in which he walked ahead of Tommy and convinced himself she was there, a few feet behind him, talking her uncle’s ears off as he made sure to clear any oncoming threats The denial culminated in him bleeding down the side of his face, a missed bullet somewhere left behind, and Tommy’s pleading voice trying to move him forward, dragging him to tents set up by the army.

Eleven stitches, each one imbedding loss and cowardice into his screaming skin. The anger settled in a few days later. It made a home within Joel, latched onto his heart and began to beat in place of it. It changed him, aged with him, convinced him it was the only partner he’d ever need. A hopeful glimmer of bargaining came in the shape of Tess. But anger and all its roots were too deeply burrowed within Joel, unwilling to be weeded out, no matter how firm the hand.

Complacency was far easier than any fight. Tommy left, the buzz of a firefly seducing him with the idea of better, of more, of a cure. Joel convinced himself things were easier without Tommy and his morals around. The routine of waking, struggling, drinking, passing out was one he practised well and thoroughly. Till Marlene and her suicide mission.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Ellie, with all her snark, and her crass words, and her humourless puns, reminded Joel how it felt to be loved. Laid upon his chest, a need for warmth and a plea for him to survive, she became the closest thing that felt like Sarah in twenty years. How could Marlene expect him to walk away, to leave her in that hospital?

Pain rushes in like a wave meets the shore, dampening him in a melancholy he saves for whiskey. Still resting peacefully on the sofa, your chest rises slow, steady, and constant. He tries to mimic it, matching his own breathing to it. It reminds him of dancing with you in the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested, arms entangled and forehead pressed to forehead, doing his best to stay in sync with your gentle sways.

The floorboards creek the further his aching body sinks to the floor. Like a man meets the altar, he’s on his knees. Blunt fingernails dig into the worn out brown leather of the couch, the only grip he has on reality.

A discombobulated memory dances across his mind. One of a much younger him, with a head full of brown locks and a sleeping daughter upon his couch. Outbreak night. He’d been peacefully unaware of the happenings outdoors, happy to turn another year older next to his Sarah, when a call came through. His brother, dumped in some jail-cell and begging for release. He’d not thought it through much, sighing in frustration yet rising slowly to his feet nonetheless. If he’d known how that night would end, he’d have held his daughter a little tighter as he carried her to bed, he’d have left every kiss he could afford against her forehead, and speak every I love you he had left in him.

Grief is a river that travels the mountain of his mind. Strong, cold, descending upon a downward slope. Its currents are unforgiving, grabbing a hold of anything that blocks the path. Too easy is it for him to slip and fall into the rapids, losing hold of his footing on reality before he realises he’s struggling to breath and there’s a whole new river carving a way for itself out his eyes and down his cheeks.

His eyes close. His breath halts. He tries to remember those breathing exercises, the same ones he uses any time the pain swells too much and the panic begins to attack his nervous system. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Choke down a sob. Slow breath out. Joel. He pictures you, feet upon solid ground, hand stretched out as you try to goad him out the trepid waters of his grief. Joel. This image of you reminds him he’s got a name, got a life, got a purpose. To help Tommy on patrols. To make sure Ellie always has a place to call home. To keep you warm in the winter, and kissed during spring, and safe no matter where the sun may sit. Joel. The tears fall faster. Messier. He’s no longer a quiet companion at your side, but a mess of ragged breathing and nose sniffles.

“Joel?”

Skin to skin. Soft hand to wet cheek. You’re awake faster than he can process, too quick to wipe tears or feign smiles. Legs scramble off the couch, parted and bent at the knee on either side of him. Musk, and lilies, and every scent that makes him feel safe and close to you envelop the shared space between you.

“Joel, baby, what’s wrong?” Your thumb swipes uselessly at his cheeks, fresh waves rolling out his eyes before you finish wiping the last. Sleep is written all over you, woven into your breathy voice and weighing down the bags of your eyes. He feels a whole new wave of guilt, waking you from such a peaceful slumber with the sight of him and all his ailments bursting out the frayed seams that hold him together.

He thinks he says your name. It’s hard to tell. The blurred image of you through his teary eyes inspires a heavy burden of disappointing you that he can not cope with, and so he ducks his head between your legs, forehead pressing on the inside of your left thigh. His breath is short, his heart is sore, and he’s staining your delicate skin with his pain. You let him grieve upon you, pull him closer. A hand soothes up his back. Your voice tells him it’s okay, and you hum a sweet tune he’s sure he’s played you many a drunken nights, when the confidence kicks in and he’s serenading you with his country twang and guitar strings.

There’s no prying, no demand to rightfully know why you’ve awoken to your lover, steadfast and stoic at his worst, collapsing into your hold. You let him cry. He lets you hold him. You’re all he’s been missing, this feeling of support he’s denied himself for far too long. No fear of your judgement, but fear of pulling you in amongst the dangerous currents alongside him.

An anchor comes in the shape of your fingers carding through his unruly hair, a tether that pulls him back into the living room, into your home, into you. With the patience of any saint, you let him move at his own pace, head slowly rising from your thigh, back straightening to the best of its abilities. His hand, rough and hardened by time and grit and survival, paws at your thigh, clumsy in its attempts to dry his tears off of you, a fear of it sinking into your skin and some part of his sadness taking root inside your bloodstream.

Your hand stills his, gently, coercing his fingers to thread with your own as your other hand cups his face and guides him to look at you. You're beautiful, in a way that makes Joel wish he was better with words so he could spend the rest of his days finding new ways to tell you so. Instead, he has to settle with a simple, “my pretty girl.” You smile, bashful, as if that’s enough, as if you don’t deserve more.

“Hello to you too, handsome.” You peck his cheek, he chases after you with his mouth. Two small pecks, a third he fails to achieve as you hold him back. “Don’t think you can distract me with those perfect lips of yours, Miller. I’m worried about you, and no amount of kisses are gonna change that.”

He refocuses on his breathing exercises. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. No sob this time. Slow breath out. Your gaze, soft as a cloud, rests over him gently, your own chest rising and falling in sync with him. With every night he’d lay awake, trying to think of how to bring up Sarah and the details of her he’s failing to hold onto, never did he imagine the weight to fly off his chest so easily with just a supportive smile from you.

“I had someone before, who I loved.” He pauses. Clears his throat, shifts his weight. His knees are beginning to ache the longer they sit digging into the hard floor. He should have listened to your advice of scavenging a rug. “Not how I love you. Like I love Ellie.”

Silence.

Not the kind where you hear a pin drop, but one that allows the laughter of children playing down the street to blow in with the breeze, and the creaking of the old house you’ve both made a home, and the squeaks and chirps of wild-life continuing on outside, unaffected by the end of civilisation.

Then, “I know.” Joel’s eyes widen, disbelief painted across them. “Tommy’s let it slip a few times. Just when we’re on patrol and he sees something that reminds him of her. Or he’s telling me a story that’s sole purpose is to embarrass you.” A part of him wants to feel angry at his younger brother, stealing his right to reveal such a large part of who he is. The other part of him feels for him too, a reminder that Sarah’s loss is not one he tackled all by himself. She was his daughter, but she was also Tommy’s niece. How could he blame him for feeling comfortable enough to share his grief with you? “Ellie also mentioned it, once. Back before you and I were really…” You fall silent, trail off, as you both usually do when faced with tackling the task of labelling what exists between you.

“Why,” he chooses to distract himself from it, scared of a world where he asks for the right to claim himself as your husband. Those things don’t matter anymore, with the world gone to shit, but a man could still dream. “Didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s your story to tell, I didn’t want to force it out you. I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

He may not know how to label what you are to him, but he knows he loves you. God, does he love you.

“Thank you, darlin’, I really-” He’s getting choked up, caught between his grief for Sarah and his love for you. You seem to understand, as you always do, hands slowly pulling and coercing him up onto the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “Can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve nothing to thank me for.” You promise, sealing it into his skin with a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t like to see you cry, Joel, but I prefer you do it in front of me. Don’t hide parts of yourself. I want all of you. Good, bad, and everything in between.”

There’s the urge to let himself fall into the river again, now that you’ve pulled him ashore and attached yourself to him like a life vest, an oath to never let him drown. He feels his eyes well-up, but doesn’t let them fall, as his mouth runs ahead of his mind and at last confesses the troubles he’s been keeping close to his chest.

“It used to be like this every day. Tears, unless I numbed myself free of consciousness. Then, things got better. With Ellie and you around. Anytime I felt the anger or the pain swelling, you’d be there and there’d be room for laughter. But I’m getting older, darlin’. Memories’ not the same. There’s things about my babygirl, my Sarah, that I just… can’t remember. And it scares me. Scares me so bad that I don’t know how to cope with it. If I ever woke up and couldn’t remember her face, it would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

He speaks slowly. You cling to every word, a gentle nod lets him know you understand. A part of him wonders how deep that understanding runs, if you too had lost a child. He wants to afford you the same grace you’ve given in, and so he doesn’t pry. If you have a story to tell, he can only hope to still be around to listen.

Oblivious to the thoughts of you holding a faceless child swirling around in his head, you pull Joel into you, encouraging him to let you hold his frame. You’ve told him countless times he needs to let himself be cared for, a spark that ignited many arguments in the early days of your love. It feels nice to comply at last, head drifting down to rest on your steady shoulder. Your legs curl up onto the couch, lay gently over his own, as an arm wraps itself around his aching back.

Only like this does Joel feel he’s finally arrived home after weeks of wading through the depths of his own sorrows, evading a bounty placed upon him by time.

Joel is ageing. Everyday, a new line appears on his face. Every year, a new ache burrows in his bones. But, if each moment he can feel your love in acts of kindness, and left-over meals, and sleepy limbs upon a shared mattress, it doesn’t feel as daunting. He wonders what awaits him in the afterlife, when he and Sarah reunite as he so hopes. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that she’d be proud of him for finding solace in a heart like yours.

“Tell me about her.” You plead to him something he’s spent years longing to do.

Without missing a beat, words flow easily and memories play on in his head, his precious daughter no longer blurry in a haze, but fully in focus, smiling wide at him with a mouthful of food.

“She loved pancakes.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller oneshot #pedro pascal x reader

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love-marimo · 2 months

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Scary Dog Privilege (Zoro x Fem!Reader)

ー just a self-indulgent hcs where a protective zoro would absolutely do anything for u, even if it includes beating shitty men who would dare to even lay their hands on u.

also hi!!! it's been a while since i last wrote something. my asks are open if u want to chat or request something. ♡

cw: swearing, violence, attempts of harassment

one thing that zoro loves are duels. whether it's a friendly spar or a full on fight with an enemy ー he always gives it his all with no mercy. he is competitive to a T. after all, he is the pirate hunter. his bounty speaks volumes, and he made a pledge to be undefeated in his journey to become a master swordsman.

there is one thing he despises the most though.

it's when these fights involve you.

he trusts that you can protect yourself, and that you can turn down advances from men.

you told him countless times that they don't interest you. and that it's best to just ignore those flirtatious remarks you get whenever it happens.

but it shouldn't happen when he's around.

because oh boy, would it cause a scene.

like when you're walking together around town on an island your crew docked into, and there's a festival going on.

you decide to wear a tight shirt and shorts. it hugged your body well, and it was comfortable enough to wear on a humid night.

he doesn't mind you wearing revealing clothing. hell, you can wear a bikini bra and jeans like nami does and he wouldn't care, unlike a certain love cook who would go crazy.

anyway, you would get passersby to look over your way.

then you'd hear men whistling at you.

then it escalates to drunk men approaching you and ogling at you.

except it was a futile attempt because zoro's already in front of you clutching one of his swords, glaring and ready to attack anytime.

"go ahead. shoot your shot."

"what the fuck do you want from her?"

"need something?"

"what the hell did you say?"

yeah. they're not walking home unscathed tonight.

in some instances, there would be pirates who would take interest on you, and they're willing to fight your boyfriend on the spot.

"oh? someone's offended here. fellas, should we beat him up?" one would say.

"go for it boss! take the girl as a prize too!" one of their crew agrees.

zoro doesn't waste time so that they won't utter another word again.

he doesn't even need to use haki to take them down. only one sword would do the job.

and while you appreciate him being protective over you, you assure him that you can defend yourself just fine.

you would definitely get into a small argument about it.

"zoro, i'm not weak you know. i can defend myself just fine." you say while cleaning a small cut he got from fighting a random creep attempting (poorly and miserably) to make a move on you.

"it's not that you're weak. just let me do my job as your partner."

"i know that but still-"

"if you want to keep entertaining them, just tell me and i'll stop."

"are you serious right now? i'm just telling you that i'm strong on my own too!"

"exactly. that's why i'm asking you that."

you both went back and forth for a while until someone from the crew breaks it up (probably nami or usopp).

at the end of the day, you'll end up in each other's arms and you'll be thanking him for being your loyal scary dog. ღ'ᴗ'ღ

"i thought you didn't like me fighting for you."

"never said that. shut up" you laugh, kissing him on his cheek and feeling him smiling at that.

ー Lolita

#lolita writes #one piece #one piece x female reader #one piece imagines #one piece hcs #roronoa zoro #zoro x female reader #zoro imagines #zoro hcs #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #scary dog zoro teehee 😚

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trendywaifus · 3 months

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old draft. angsty asf.

could she have saved you from drowning in your own darkness? cw: angst, little comfort, mention of death, death, cursing, blood

there are times i think about that fateful day

i threw your love away ( every time I see that look upon your face

the same one that you made )

“ why? “ is all HIMEKO could ask in a shaky voice, gleaming golden eyes narrowing into a distressed gaze as you stood opposite from her with one of the infamous stellaron hunters, blade, and not by the astral express’s, your family—her side where you belong. the prized look of shock and hurt marinates in her features will forever be engraved in your memory like a unforgettable tragedy. blade briefly spares you a look similar to pity as he quietly notice you anxiously fiddling with the prized jewelry on your ring finger behind your back. it’s a habit you do whenever you feel jittery. it provides you minimal comfort. but in this situation, it breeds a feeling of disgust for selfishly betraying her trust to lull the anxiety and woes manifested in your heart and elio is to blame for it. he was the one who sent you an unknown letter, warning you of a strong possibility of himeko sacrificing herself for the safety of the astral express in the future.

he even offered you to join the stellaron hunters to assure that possibility doesn’t align with reality. it weighed on your mind for weeks, unable to sleep properly despite himeko’s warm arms wrapped around your body. you became gradually anxious and more reserved. this behavior did not go unnoticed by your companions and especially himeko herself. you dismiss their concerns with a pretend smile and a poor excuse of 'feeling under the clouds.' even with himeko's comfort and tender kisses, it didn't sate the anxiety in your heart, in fact, it nearly broke you due to the guilt. it wasn’t like you could talk to her about it because, how can you possibly bring something like that up to her? it doesn’t help that she vocally distrusts the stellaron hunters and finds their beliefs superstitious. perhaps you’re the one to blame for reading an unknown letter that was suspiciously meant for you, allowing a wanted manic, who claims to see the future, get under your skin, and emotionally manipulate you into becoming a destiny slave.

you swallow the large hump lodged in your throat. your trembling lips part to speak and you refuse to look her in the eyes as you did. “ i-i don’t want a future where you’re not in it. i want to secure everyone’s future and yours, even if it means i can’t be by your side to do it. “

was it really emotional manipulation or were you just emotionally weak?

when your fragile world was crashing down around you

you realized your place

you can feel the immense pain and rain drops cascading down on you.

you can barely breath.

you can barely move your limbs as they feel heavy like they’re underwater.

you can only peer at the dark, grey skies above you with blurred, teary vision.

all you can hear is the downpour.

oh that’s right, you’re dying. you’re reaching the final finale of your script.

it feels like something other than physical pain is clawing at your heart, sharp nails sinking it’s pointed ends into weakened muscles and crumbling walls. you were prepared for your fated end from the very beginning, but, you were not prepared for how painful the realization was going to be. your dim eyes flutter close as you muster all your remaining strength to calm the suffocating feeling in your chest. you let out uneven, quick breaths; thoughts race through your head like they’re rushing to a finishing line. when you have a chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won’t regret. was the only coherent thought that you can associate a voice to—a voice you cherish deeply and always will.

“ i. .won’t pass. . .just yet, i want. .to see. .” not yet. a twinge of determination, akin to a small, wispy flame sparks within you. not at this moment. you don’t want to die alone. that was the only thing you ever wished for.

breathe in.

breath out.

breathe in.

breathe out.

you try to take in small gulps of oxygen to maintain your unstable breathing, a pathetic method to slow down your inevitable end. a stray tear rolls down the side of your face as the numbness slowly overcomes you. what you don’t hear is heels clicking against the shattered asphalt as they approach your body. the rain that once poured down on your face, abruptly stops. a small thumping noise softly hits your ears. your tired eyes peel open to see the woman you yearn for the most standing over you with an umbrella over you and her.

due to your blurry vision, you can’t see her face clearly until she crouches. her still painted lips twisted into a subtle frown, and the first time in years, a solemn expression is present on her face. “ y. .ou. . .ame. . “ you cough out weakly and KAFKA hums softly with acknowledgment, understanding your weak, croaky voice. her brows relax and lifts, a practiced yet genuine smile that’s meant to comfort you, replaces the frown. there’s a softness to her gaze, a hint of sadness bleeds through her contact lenses as she stares down at you. her voice is low and tender as she whispers to you, “. .don’t talk, focus on controlling your breathing as long as you can. i’m here and i’ll continue be here with you until you’re not. “ here with me anymore goes unspoken. with her free hand, she gingerly brush away strands of hair that stuck to your damp forehead.

“ you’re not alone, “ kafka says, voice filled with assurance, she rubs your brow with her thumb. “ i won’t let you be, darling. “ she briefly stops when she takes a glimpse of the small, happy smile pulling at the ends of your blood stained lips. a firm tug pulls on a heart string, her breath hitches. there’s an unsettling feeling that’s rising from the pits of her belly. kafka can’t decipher it; its a new feeling that she’s never experienced before and already doesn’t like. tender memories of you, your smile, your radiance, laughter, touch—everything flashes through her mind. her heart skips a beat and races. for once, it’s not from anticipation, excitement, nor pleasure. was this fear? did you really have to be on the brink of death for her wish to be granted? is this how cruel destiny can really be to its victims? she never really consider herself a victim and didn’t care as much until this moment. the realization sinks in and her expression almost falters in front of you. ‘can’t have you see her sorrowful face before you leave this world. she wants you to have no regrets when you go.

“ . .ank you. .f. .or. . .very. .th. .ing. ove. .you. .”

the light in your eyes completely vanishes and your chest relaxes permanently. kafka eyes the peaceful look on your face for a moment. her gloved palm then caress your wet cheek and shifts down to your neck. she press two fingers to your pulse point, a place that’s one of her favorite spots to kiss on. nothing. not a gentle, single beat thumping against the pads of her gloved digits. her expression falls blank.

kafka gained the emotion of fear but lost the ability to love. it was like losing her yang, making her more vulnerable than she ever was before. after minutes of your passing, she still stays and lingers; the aftertaste of regret bitter on her tongue.

“ mhm. .i loved you too. “ she confesses under the gloomy, dreary skies, delicately closing your unmoving eyelids with her palm.

( and the darkness that you try so hard to subdue

It causes you to change ) but baby, baby, please don't leave me

ACHERON’s arms wrap tightly around your body, pulling your body into hers. she presses her face against your neck, breathing you in like a breath of fresh air. she can feel your warmth through the exposed skin of her body. it felt unreal to have you in her arms like this. “ you’re here. .” she mutters in relief, her palms pressing against the small of your back. you let out a soft chuckle, combing your fingers through her purple locks. the sun shines its radiance under you and her, its warmth kissing at your skins. “ why wouldn’t i be, mei? “ your sultry voice is full of affection which she so deeply misses.

her lips purse into a thin line at your question, she removes her face away from your neck to look at you with troubled eyes. she doesn’t want to reply to that, she doesn’t want things to turn into the same repeated nightmare whenever she answers your question. acheron shakes her head and smiles sadly at you. “ you’re right. don’t mind me. “ you tilt your head, reaching out to cup her cheek. she leans into it, letting you caress her pale skin. “ but you look sad. you can talk to me, mei. you know that, right? “ she nods, leaning forward to rest her forehead against yours. acheron gives your waist a tender squeeze, “ that’s true. but, you being here with me right now is enough. “

she kisses you, a sliver of shame crawls up her skin. the only time she ever gets to hold you and kiss you like this is in her dreams. you’re a precious part of her past that she refuses to forget. she find solace in the memories of you, even in vivid dreams. she applies pressure to your soft lips, wishing to engrave the feeling of them into her broken memory. acheron knows eventually that she’s going to forget and it’ll be out of her control. abruptly pulling away, she places hasty kisses to the corner of your lips, jaw, and down to your neck. “ little fast, are we? “ you tease, tilting your neck to grant her more access. she stops her barrage of kisses after a few moments and buries her nose into your shoulder blade. “ forgive me, i’m feeling a little impatient right now. “

she feel your fingers drum against her back. you giggle softly, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of her head. acheron nuzzles further into you, reveling in your comforting presence. “ so warm. . “ she sighs with utter contentment. a gentle silence settle over your heads. she wishes to live in this dream forever, even if she knows it is not real. a choked cough make her ears perk up. she feels your chest stutter and a warm liquid staining her palms. the feeling of dread fills her once light chest and she rips away from your shoulder blade. her eyes widen in terror, thin trails of blood spill out from the corner of your mouth, the horrified look on your face petrifies acheron to the bone. just like that, the scenery suddenly changes; crumbling buildings, broken weapons, and torii gates now surrounds you and her. your body gives out and you become limp against acheron. your bright, red blood stains her white kimono.

she falls to her knees with you in her arms. “ n-no, th-this is-isn’t how it supposed to. .” acheron shakes her head in astonishment, looking down at you with fearful eyes as you start to physically fade away in her arms. all you could do was smile to comfort the woman cradling you in her embrace. “ i-it’s going to be okay,” your shaking hand reaches up to wipe a tear rolling down her cheek. “ even if. .i don’t have a place in your memories. .i’ll be lingering in the depths of your heart instead. “

just like that, you completely disappear in her arms, leaving behind nothing. acheron stares down at her bloody hands with helpless eyes. her chin lifts, looking up at the spherical black hole sitting in the middle of the sky. she hopelessly watch as the hungry deity swallows everything she used to love and protect.

when acheron finally wakes up from her slumber, she doesn’t remember why she feels sorrow.

I know I made a big mistake, don't turn my sunshine to shade

at the sound of several rounds of gunshots firing into the front line, you instinctively tackled robin down to the gravel pavement, attempting to shield her from the incoming bullets with your body. ipc medical supplies strewn about on the ground as frantic shouting and the smell of gunpowder fuels the violent atmosphere. the halovian woman’s head spins from the hard impact and her ears ring. all she could feel is your arms circled protectively around her frame and the firm weight of your body over hers. your voice is a blur but she can make out small apologies and words of reassurance through labored breathing. it takes a moment before she becomes fully conscious again and realize what happened. “ (n-name), thank you for protecting me. a-are you alright? “ robin ask breathily, worry heavily weighing in her voice. her hands clutch onto your sides and they hold on tighter when she doesn’t get a response from you.

robin can feel your body slowly relax against her. a wet cough erupts from your chest and she panics. “ no, no, no, “ with little trouble, she maneuvers your weakened body next to her on the pavement. frantic green eyes instantly land on a gunshot wound on the side of your neck, she gasps in absolute horror. her lungs struggle to take in air due to the panic and shock rushing into her like a tidal wave. an allied soldier rushes to you and robin’s side. “ w-we need a combat medic! one of our aids has been shot in the frontlines! “ he easily scoops up your dying body and urges robin to follow him to a nearby safe point.

swallowing thickly, robin nods tentatively, her gaze fixated on you the entire time. your eyes are barely open, your chest is rising up and down in an uneven pace. aeons, there’s so much blood pooling out from your wound, she’s scared you’re going to bleed out before they even get to somewhere safe. robin desperately wish for a miracle.

why couldn’t she be the one to take your place? to take your pain?

#trendy #himeko x reader #kafka x reader #acheron x reader #robin x reader hsr #hsr angst

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roodles03 · 1 year

Text

The First Kiss

Things have been rough for them for pretty much their whole lives, but especially recently.

For Willow, being trapped in the human realm separated from her fathers, not knowing if they're okay, having little to no hope of ever returning home, and knowing the Boiling Isles might be in ruin due to the Collector was a lot to deal with. Flapjack's death, Belos still being alive along with seeing the Isles in a apocalyptic state confirmed so many of her fears.

Boscha was the icing on the cake, sending her into a boderline panic attack/mental breakdown that nearly ended with her suffocating not only herself, but also her best friends.

Meanwhile, Hunter has lost his beloved palismen, Flapjack, after having his body controlled and getting possessed by his abuser, who he thought he was finally safe from. He had died after sacrificing himself to save his friends, and Flapjack is the only reason he's still alive to tell his story, but in order for Flapjack to save him, he had to give up his life essence to revive Hunter. Hunter now has to continue living on without Flapjack. He misses him every single day. He thinks about him all the time. He wishes he was still here every waking moment. But Flapjack is never coming back, and that is almost impossible to handle at times.

But what Willow and Hunter do have is each other. They love each other and want to get through things together. They can help each other heal and give each other comfort through their pain. And Willow wants to assure Hunter that no matter what, she'll be there.

Hunter feels the same way, and he assures he'll be there for her too. Half-a-witches like them always stick together.

The half-a-witch statement is what Willow needed to hear her whole life.

In that moment of love, without thinking, Willow cups Hunter's cheeks and pulls him in.

Hunter, meanwhile, has no idea what's about to happen until their lips meet. He's shocked at first before quickly embracing the kiss. His emotions overrun him almost instantly.

When Willow separates, she immediately realizes what she just did, and she freezes. Hunter feels like he has to say something, but his overwhelming emotions make that incredibly hard. He has no idea what to say. He's too shocked for anything comprehensable to leave his mouth, and even if he could formulate a sentence, just one word would make him burst into tears.

Willow can hardly scoundure up an sentence herself, but just saying one word causes Hunter to be overwhelmed with joy. He's never felt so loved before. It feels amazing. He starts happily sobbing as the two pull in for a hug.

(Wow, my inner fic writer came out, didn't it-)

Pretty much everything went right for this comic and I'm really happy with how it came out. It definitely took a very long time for me to finish this due to uni, but it was worth the time and effort.

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heliads · 9 months

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Hi! Hope I’m not too late, could I request a Derek Hale x reader where she (already knowing ab the supernatural) gets tired of Derek constantly disappearing from her life whenever he does that Derek thing until finally she’s fed up with it being the one to disappear this time idk how to end it or go from there but I was thinking of an angsty hurt/comfort with a happy ending🥺! Hope it’s enough, thank you!!

'the one who leaves ' - derek hale

masterlist

The hardest part of both being a werewolf and knowing a werewolf is, and will always be, the horrors. The attacks that never cease, the blood always shed. The second hardest part is the strain of being with someone whose life is always in jeopardy purely because of who they are. Although it doesn’t feel nearly as important as the constant threat of hunters, or the latest monster to decide that Beacon Hills should be its new domain, sometimes you swear the second part hangs even more heavily about your heart than the first. Then again, maybe that’s just because of Derek Hale.

Derek is one of the most complicated players on the supernatural chess board. You met him what feels like a lifetime ago, when one of seemingly dozens of supernatural attacks had threatened the lives of Beacon Hills citizens. Derek had saved your life. A month later, you’d saved him from some hunters. The back-and-forth of life saving went on and on until the two of you decided you were better as friends than people a little too important to each other to be acquaintances, and then the boundaries were shifted again when you started dating.

Sometimes, though, on rough nights after long fights and darker ones when you haven’t seen Derek in weeks and he doesn’t seem all that inclined to answer your texts or voicemails, you start to think that entering into a relationship with you is one of Derek’s biggest regrets. It’s not that he doesn’t care for you; Derek has assured you many times over that his feelings for you are stronger even than his loyalties to his pack, his commitment to killing the hunters responsible for the Hale House fire, yet the problem remains.

Derek is all too familiar with the struggle of having a weakness. When his ancestral home burned down with most of his family trapped inside, he learned for the first time that sometimes a mortal blow capable of destroying his life doesn’t have to threaten him specifically. When he loves someone so much that he prioritizes their safety above his own, Derek creates a weakness that hunters and other supernaturals can exploit. He would never forgive himself if you were hurt as a tool to get to him, so Derek has been doing his best to limit the fallout of any supernatural fight onto you.

However, this only seems to drive the two of you apart. Yes, by not being seen in public as often anymore, Derek lowers the possibility that a hunter would try to kidnap you as a hostage, but it also means that you see him less and less frequently. When you do finally manage to meet up, after thoroughly checking to make sure you haven’t been tailed, and only after dark in one of your houses, you’re both exhausted, wrung dry of the same life and spirit that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

It’s not the same anymore. You hate to admit it, but it’s true. Loving Derek is no longer the beautiful victory it had always been. Instead, you feel as if you’ve lost the war. Derek isn’t yours anymore. If he was, you wouldn’t have to hide what the two of you share, you wouldn’t have to constantly stare at the long list of missed calls on your phone and wonder when he’ll ever pick up, if he even wants to anymore. Derek is doing a great job at keeping you safe, but somewhere along the line, the two of you got your priorities mixed up. Now you’re alone and he’s alive, and you don’t know that you’re any happier about it than you would have been if one of you were lost to the hunters.

At this point, why try? Why even bother with the pretense of maintaining the ruse? The two of you might as well not even be together at all. It doesn’t feel like you are, certainly, when you go so long in between visits. Even when the two of you are finally face to face, Derek is harried and brief, hardly staying longer than a few hours before rushing off again, never to be seen for another few months.

It wears away at you like a river at a stone. Your sharp edges, the ones that pierced through his shell so easily at the beginning of it all, have been smoothed to nothingness. Each of your attempts to break through to Derek and coax him into staying even a little longer are brushed off with simple excuses. It’s like you don’t even exist to him anymore.

Fine. Fine. If you’re not a person to him anymore, he will not be a person to you. You pack up your things and leave Beacon Hills early one morning, only telling Scott McCall and Deaton over at the vet so they can contact you if need be. You don’t say a word about your absence to Derek. Why bother? He’s not even in town, hasn’t been for months. When he comes back– if he attempts to come back at all– he can ask one of his friends and hear the same answer that he would from you right now. There’s no point in wasting either of your time any longer.

You’re still engaged in fighting the good fight against the supernatural. Deaton is a longtime friend of yours, and he’d been hearing rumors of a peculiarity a couple of states over. He couldn’t afford to leave Beacon Hills for an extended period of time, being so important to the town as one of its last defenders, so you offered to go instead. It would be good for you, you said. The trip. Being able to clear your head.

Odds are, Deaton had been able to see through that excuse as he has many of your others all throughout your life, but he had just nodded and said that he was grateful for your help. With that, you left town. You’ve been in Beacon Hills for your entire life, excluding brief excursions in the name of school or work or family trips. Never before have you left like this, not entirely sure if you would ever come back, uncertain that the person you love most of all would be there to want you to return.

At first, the trip feels like a terror. Then you roll down the windows and let the early morning light touch your face with soft, bright fingers; then the breeze cools your face, running over your skin in loose circles; then you start to breathe at last, for the first time in what feels like years. Then you remember that you are still a person worth saving, and maybe even if Derek Hale cannot do that, you can save yourself by leaving.

The miles pass by in moments. You’re long gone by the time anyone starts waking up. Scott knew that you were leaving and told the other teenagers in his pack so they wouldn’t freak out, but he still texts you anyway. Hope you find what you’re looking for.

So do I, you message him back at a red light. Stay safe.

Thanks, he responds, then no more.

You end up in the state of your choice by the middle of the afternoon, booking a room at a hotel so you can have a home base while properly surveying the area. You don’t have a supernatural’s knack for telling when something is wrong, but the hairs on the back of your neck prickle anyway, letting you know that the currents of the wind around this city have a magical edge, a certain element that sets them aside from a normal town. Good. You could use something fantastical and uncommon.

You don’t know when you expect to hear back from Derek. Never, maybe. You had assumed that he wouldn’t try to reach out to you until he got back, which might be anywhere from a few months from now to never. Once he returned to Beacon Hills, Derek could hear from Scott as to why you weren’t there anymore. You and Derek hardly spoke at all anymore, except out of an obligation to make sure you were still alive. He probably wouldn’t care at all.

Yet not a week has gone by before you start getting frantic texts from Derek.

Y/N. You in town?

Why is your house empty?

Scott tells me you left town. Why didn’t you tell me?

Y/N. Please text back. I’m getting worried.

Three missed calls.

Please pick up, sweetheart. I’ll drive over there myself if I have to. Just tell me you’re alive.

You stare at the notifications for a long time, reveling in how they build in intensity, then tap out a message of your own at last: I’m alive and well.

Derek immediately responds. And you didn’t tell me you were going?

The bright glow of your phone dulls your senses. Nothing feels right, but nothing feels wrong anymore. Loving Derek used to make you feel invincible. Now, you’re just tired, and wishing this exchange would end.

Didn’t think I would have to. You’ve been away for months, and you never tell me when you’re going. Why should I?

Derek doesn’t like that at all. It’s different with me, sweetheart. You know that.

You don’t bother to grace that with a response. Setting your phone on ‘do not disturb,’ you shove the device back in your pocket. It’s good that Derek is unhappy with this turn of events, you decide. For once, he should be the one panicking when he wakes up alone, when he wants to be with the person he loves only for them to disappear without a trace. Why should it be you all the time?

You carry on with your task. As it turns out, the case at hand, the utter unraveling of the supernatural presence in this town, is due to an overactive ancient curse on the town. Deaton talks you through how to shut it down, and once the job is done, you return home, proud of yourself and your accomplishments.

You’re fully expecting Derek to have left town again by the time you got back. He’s been messaging you non stop, but you’ve been leaving most of those messages on ‘unread’ since they all say pretty much the same things: why wouldn’t you tell me you were going, are you alright, come back ASAP. You message back occasionally to assure him that you’re still alive, but mainly, you think a bit of silence would do the both of you some good.

After arriving back at Beacon Hills, you stop by your house to drop off your belongings before visiting Deaton to debrief. He’s glad to hear of your success, but once both of you have ensured that the town was handled accordingly, he breaks protocol to talk about your personal life instead.

“I think you should talk to Derek Hale,” he says uneasily.

You frown at him. “What?”

Deaton glances around to make sure no customers can overhear you, then continues on. “He’s been a wreck ever since you left. He keeps stopping by the shop to demand information from me. He insisted for a long time that I give him the name of the town you were visiting so he could check on you himself, but I kept it from him because I thought you would need to focus.”

“That was the right call,” you assure him. It would, after all, have been more difficult to juggle both an errant curse and a supremely ticked off boyfriend.

Deaton chuckles good-naturedly. “That was what I had assumed. I would still recommend talking to him, though. These sorts of conflicts are best handled sooner rather than later.”

You nod your agreement, and, after talking a few minutes longer, head out towards Derek’s apartment complex. Although you’ve felt bitterly triumphant in the fact that Derek now knows what it’s like to miss somebody like you’ve been missing him, you fell in love with him for a reason, and that reason was that you liked being around him more than you did with anyone else. You still love him, even if the two of you have been on the fringe of an argument for a while now.

That’s what drives you to his building, what carries you up the interminably long elevator ride, what brings you to knock twice on his door and wait until a quiet voice from inside announces that the door is unlocked.

That’s the first sign that something is wrong. Derek never leaves the door unlocked. Some could call it an overwhelming concern for safety, or just plain paranoia, but Derek’s experienced enough tragedy in his life to go overboard in making sure that he keeps all potential avenues of risk firmly blocked off. The fact that the door is unlocked disquiets you more than you like to admit.

Slowly, carefully, you push the door open. Immediately, you’re struck by the gloomy atmosphere of the place. Derek pulled the curtains over the wide windows of his apartment, making the whole place darker and more lifeless than usual. The lights are off. You can assume that Derek can see thanks to his werewolf senses without needing the fluorescents, but for your human eyes, the whole place just seems as dark and grave as a crypt.

“Derek?” You call out hesitantly.

Silence. Then, a husky voice from the back. “Y/N? Is that you?”

You still can’t see him in the gloom, so you cross the apartment to open the blinds on the large windows, hoping to toss some light on the situation. You know the layout of the place from memory, so many visits here help to solidify your knowledge of each piece of furniture in the apartment. Still, you’re not expecting to see Derek crumpled in a chair on the corner, looking significantly the worse for wear.

You’re at his side in an instant. “Derek? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says listlessly. “Not like you knew a thing about that, though, disappearing like that.”

Your concern for him starts to fade away, replaced instead by a burning irritation. “So that’s what all of this is about? You’re so hurt that I was the one to leave that you’ve become comatose?”

Derek sits up a little, eyes flashing. “You vanished without a trace and didn’t tell me where you went. I thought you were dead, Y/N. I had to pry information out of Deaton so I even knew you were alive, and when I tried to contact you, you ignored my messages. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

You laugh, although it’s not a happy sound. “Finally, you understand. This is what I deal with every time you leave town, Derek. You never tell me where you’re going or what you’re doing. I sat here in Beacon Hills for months, wondering if you’ll ever come back. I was gone for half the time you usually are and yet it’s far too much for you to handle. How do you think I feel?”

Derek’s lips flatten. “I– I didn’t realize you took it like that. I was just trying to keep you safe. You know how the hunters watch me, and–”

You cut him off, feeling the anger coiling through your stomach. “I know that, Derek. I know that every supernatural in your life that isn’t a part of your pack wants you dead. I know that in your head, this is how you keep me safe, by constantly cutting me out of your life, but has it occurred to you that this isn’t what I want? You could have asked me if this was the way to handle it. If you had even talked to me at all, I would have told you that I don’t care about being safe. Not if it means we’re like this. Not if it means I don’t get to have you at all.”

Derek stands up slowly, until he’s hovering just a few breaths away from you. One of his hands reaches up to cradle your cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers. “I’ve lost so many people in my life. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I know,” you murmur back. “But if you keep going on like this, if you keep pushing me away, you’ll lose me anyway.”

He flinches. “I should have asked you,” he admits. “I can’t erase the past, Y/N, but I can apologize for the present. Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you stay with me,” you answer him.

A ghost of a smile plays upon his lips. “I’ve never had a problem with that. It hurts like hell, leaving you. Always.”

“Then don’t do it anymore,” you urge him. “Stay with me, Derek. Keep me safe by staying with me.”

“I will,” Derek promises.

People in love make a lot of promises. Some are kept, some are broken. Some are forgotten about entirely. Looking at Derek in this half-darkness, though, you have a feeling that this one will be cherished for quite a long time indeed.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

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succubaibri · 4 months

Text

Trophy Hunter || Noa x Human!Reader

Your encounter with Anaya, Soona and Noa originated from when you were all brought to Proximus Caesar.

Noa had recognized you as the theif with the wolf from many nights ago when he first discovered you were stealing fish. The dark-greyish wolf beside you was no older than a year, it too trying to survive along side you. Noa was still skeptical about you, so was his friends. He'd keep an eye on you.

Anaya and Soona were lost. Humans weren't known to be ones who had wolves as pets, yet alone companions. From what they witnessed, humans only stuck together in groups. They had no form of animal companions, they were too scared of their safety to do so. But you managed to do so. How so? They were curious.

Noa could already sense the questions that his partners wanted to ask, yet they both were hesitant on asking, unsure of how you would respond. Noa on the other hand could more so care less. He had no interest in your background, yet somehow Anaya and Soona were curious about you. They wanted to try and get to understand you.

You were a lot kinder and tolerable than Mae. Noa had to admit. You were alarmed at first, yet you didn't run away. Not like you could go far anyways. You knew what apes were capable and that you could loose your life at any second. It kept you in reality, but yet you showed no fear. Anaya and Soona sat across from you, at a distance that wasn't too far or too close to invade your personal space.

Noa stared at you, trying to read your expression while he stayed silent. Anaya and Soona exchanged looks, both deciding on who would ask what first. Soona nudges Anaya to go first, her mouth formed into a faint smile that wasn't all that noticeable.

"May we..."Anaya gestures towards the pup gnawing on a bone, while laid down on its stomach."...Touch...?"They seemed to be intrigued by your companion. It wasn't often they seen one without a pack, especially one at its age.

"You can touch him."You assure them."He doesn't bite."

"Are you three always together?" You asked one night, your eyes glued onto the three in front of you. Your curiousity about the trio only grew the more you hung around them. The orange flames casted out parts of your faces so you knew where they sat.

"Yes. Since we were younglings."Soona answers kindly through sign, her hand petting against the coat of your furry friend as it slept comfortably in the middle."Could never separate us. We are inseparable as the elders say."

"Ah." It was cute. You wouldn't have ever guessed, considering how close and protective they are over one another. The vibes said it all. Yet you could tell that they were all more than friends.

Though that wasn't any of your business. Your eyes moved to Noa who stayed silent the entire time. His mind was in complete thought, and his eyes for some reason still didn't leave you. He didn't not seem to welcome your presence. It was clear through his stares.

Your eyebrows furrowed, wondering on why he was glaring at you like that. Soona nudges you very gently with her arm, beating you to speak before you did.

"Noa will warm up to you I'm sure." She tells you, smile as warm as the fire burning."He's just needs time to think....time to trust you..."

You hoped so.

#kingdom of the planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes x female reader #pota noa x reader #pota noa #pota x reader imagines #pota x reader #proximus caesar

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thezombieprostitute · 4 months

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Dragonfly - Part 2

Summary: Steve has just about everything he could ever want in life. He's got you, a baby on the way, and a successful Family. No one would dare interfere with that. Right?

A/N: Reader is female, pregnant. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Death threats, Implied violence, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

You’ve been stuck inside the house for days. It’s a beautiful house, you feel comfortable in it, but knowing you can’t leave makes you want out more than ever. You try to distract yourself by cooking and baking whatever it is the baby is craving but that only goes so far. Especially when you can feel Steve’s frustration adding to your own. Something needs to actually be done but, with nothing you can actually do, it’s just building up a lot of frustrated energy for both of you. He can at least use the home gym for some of his energy but all you’re allowed to use in there is the treadmill and it’s just not enough.

Bucky finally has some news and calls you both into Steve’s office. You vaguely recognize the person with him as God the Bounty Hunter, or GBH as he allows only his closest circle to call him. Steve sets you in the chair behind his desk, the most comfortable one in the office, before sitting on the desk facing the two men.

“GBH has been able to get an appointment with the person who runs the boards,” Bucky starts. Steve’s fists clench as he grabs the edge of the desk, fighting the urge to punch the faceless person. “It’s at the Cairo Hotel and I’m gonna recommend neither of you is there for it.”

“What?” Steve’s anger is evident in his clenched jaw.

“There are a few factors, Steve,” Bucky raises his hands. “Namely, I don’t think you can control yourself to follow the rules of neutrality at the appointment. We can’t afford to lose Pine’s support.”

Steve lowers his head in understanding. You get up and gently rub your hand between his shoulder blades, trying to help him keep calm.

“Another factor is my professional standing,” GBH adds. “I have a reputation and clout to uphold. These aren’t the kind of people you want to piss off. Anything happens to Mr. Smith at an appointment with me, I’ll be done for. And not just professionally.”

“GBH assures me that there is procedure for a target to remove their contract or for someone else to do so on their behalf,” Bucky offers. “It’s likely gonna cost a lot, but I know that doesn’t matter.” Steve nods. “Plus, it’ll keep her off of the contract postings for at least five years.”

“But I am highly doubtful anyone will get any information on who posted the contract,” GBH confessed. Steve turned to glare at him but the other man seemed unaffected as he continued, “again, lots of regulation and factors. Namely trust within the business. No one’s gonna post a contract if there’s a chance the target finds out they’re the ones who opened it.”

“Just business, huh,” Steve mocks.

You hug him from behind, “just getting the hit on me removed would be a major quality of life improvement.” You nuzzle your face against his shoulder. “And maybe we can send one of the Garbage Men to the appointment? They’re good at getting subtext and negotiations, right?”

Steve and Bucky both nod at your assessment.

“I was planning on just me and God,” Bucky admits. “Would it be acceptable for us to bring a third?”

GBH contemplates, “it shouldn’t be a problem. The key thing is that it’s at Pine’s establishment and he doesn’t have to worry about someone trying to hurt him in retaliation for doing his job.”

Steve’s grip on the desk makes his knuckles go white. He hates the idea of his wife’s life or death being a matter of ‘business’. But he knows that’s how it is for everyone outside his circle. It’s the kind of thinking that he’s worked hard to make sure he doesn’t fall into. “Whatever you need to do, do it. I want this contract burnt.”

It’s finally the day of the contract appointment and you do your best to distract yourself and Steve. He’s always been willing to do whatever you needed but it’s been magnified since your confirmed pregnancy test a few months ago. Thinking it might help both of you to relax a little, you ask him to help you out.

A foot massage for your swollen feet, keeping his hands busy and his thoughts focused on your moans of pleasure.

A warm bath to help your muscle aches, keeping his attention focused on your naked body and the temperature of the water.

Which, of course, led to the two of you in bed so he can properly worship your body. Part of you misses the rougher sex but you understand Steve’s hesitancy. And damn if he doesn’t still make you feel so good you forget your name.

Steve holds your sleeping form in his arms, gently rubbing your belly. He knows you’ve been trying to distract him and he’s so grateful to you. He’s barely been able to keep from punching walls and checking his phone every five minutes. But taking care of you really helped to settle him.

He hears the telltale chirp of his phone and moves as carefully as he can so that he doesn’t wake you. The message is from Bucky, Contract burnt. Possible lead thanks to Teach. His shoulders go lax as he finally feels the relief he’s been longing for.

He returns to his place in the bed, holding you close. You barely wake up, just enough to make yourself comfortable and kiss his neck. It’s not completely safe for you and your baby boy yet. But now that the overarching danger has been taken care of, he can focus on finding and crushing the source. Whoever Dragonfly is, Steve vows they will die in agony by his own hand.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @talesofadragon; @texmexdarling

#mob boss!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob!steve rogers x reader

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cobaltperun · 8 months

Text

Lost (16) - Night of the Hunter

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5.5k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark-

You lost count of how many times you looked at your phone in the last couple of hours, so you basically lost all the patience you had. You leaned on the kitchen counter and waited. "Come on, it's not that hard to pick up," you muttered as you tapped the fingers of your free hand on the kitchen counter, but much like the other two times you called earlier, Susan didn't answer her phone. "Hey, please call me when you see this, I'm getting worried. Ghostface is back, and I don't think you're in danger, but I'd feel better if you spent a few days at a neighbor's house or something," you decided to leave a message this time. "Be safe, love you, bye," you had no idea why you said those words, you never said them to Susan before, but somehow you just had the need to say them.

You should have said those words sooner, you loved Susan like a mother, hell she was the one and only person in the world you could consider your parent. You never said those words because you struggled to say them to anyone other than Tara. Years of only having a deep, emotional bond with Tara made it difficult to express yourself to anyone else, though you cared for a lot of people now. Well, a lot compared to before. You loved Susan, and Sam, and Chad and Mindy, and even though you didn’t know her for long, you loved Anika as well. But saying it, even casually, felt almost impossible. Yet now it just slipped out.

Susan was going to get shocked when she hears that. She knew you loved her, even without you telling her, but you knew she’d be happy to hear it.

"Susan still isn't answering her phone?" Tara approached you and you just nodded as she took your hand. If you weren't worried, you'd think the situation was funny, since the roles reversed as the day went on. When Susan first failed to answer her phone, you brushed it off as a hectic day at work and Tara was the one who got worried right away.

Then, when Susan didn't answer her phone the second time you found yourself assuring Tara she was okay, even if you were getting worried yourself. And now Tara was the one comforting you. "She's on the other side of the country, I doubt Ghostface would travel all the way to Sacramento," you said, but you could see the look in Tara's eyes. She saw right through you, sure, you wanted to reassure Tara as well, but those words, they were meant more for you. And you were still a hundred percent certain no one figured out she had anything to do with you.

"I'm sure she'll call you soon," Tara placed her hand on your left forearm, gently tracing random patterns across your skin. You relaxed significantly, choosing to remain in here and now with Tara instead of in different what-ifs your mind was making up. Tara wasn't the only one who found comfort and safety in your touches, you craved it just as much, relied on it just as much, so you placed your right hand on her waist and tugged her body closer to you. You just weren’t as obvious as she was, or well, at least it took some time for your friends to figure out it wasn’t just Tara that was touchy with you, so you guessed you weren’t as obvious.

Tara smiled softly as she let you pull her in. Her left hand caressed your cheek, and it was so minute you doubted anyone but you or Sam could notice it, but there was the slightest tremor in her touch. It was getting a bit cold. You raised the hand that was previously resting on Tara's waist and placed it over her left hand to warm it up. “I’d be lost without you,” you whispered, kissing her palm as she smiled, she didn’t need to say anything, her eyes told you all you needed to know, her eyes told you the feeling was mutual.

The sound of gagging made both of you roll your eyes, though you didn’t separate from one another. "This is why I couldn't take living with you. It's either drama or sickly sweet with you and I could somewhat handle the drama," Mindy was being Mindy, teasing and complaining even if you and Tara knew she was, deep down, happy for you two.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go cuddle with Anika," you smirked at Tara's words. Granted, Mindy and Anika weren't as touchy as you and Tara, but they were fairly sweet as well.

“Ha! Don’t even try to pull that one, T, Anika sitting on my lap, or me sitting on her lap is as rare as you not sitting on Y/N’s lap,” Mindy fired back, luckily Tara was getting fairly immune to Mindy’s teasing.

‘There’s not much point in denying it,’ she told you one time when you got worried Mindy’s teasing went too far. Tara just made sure you understood that she didn’t care about the teasing as much as she used to. She was touchy, and clingy, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t even try to deny it. “I’m clingy and I’m proud, besides, who wouldn’t be in my position!” Tara declared boldly, and took a step back to gesture toward you with her hands.

You went to pour yourself a glass of water. “Maybe you should try snuggling with Anika more often, it’s relaxing to snuggle with someone you love,” you smirked before drinking a few sips of the water.

"Sure, I was going to do that, but you two missed my monologue, again," Mindy said, and you nodded a few times, silently accepting that this was happening. "Also, you were spared from Ethan's weird overshare that he's a virgin, and if we have to know so do you two," at that you had to groan.

"Not our business, Mindy," come on, you did not need to know that. You absolutely did not care one bit about how experienced anyone was. You wouldn’t have even cared about Tara’s experience if she herself didn’t tell you about it, mostly because she needed to get it off her chest.

"It wasn't our business either," she just deadpanned, as if that was actually a good excuse to go and share Ethan’s private information, that you didn’t even ask for.

"So!" she ushered you and Tara to the table and from the corner of your eye you saw Chad giving you a thumbs up with an encouraging look on his face.

"Someone save us!" you whisper-shouted, mostly looking at Sam for help.

Tara chuckled and lightly elbowed your side. "Behave, it might be fun," she sat on your lap instead of the chair Mindy pulled out for her.

"Oh, come on, for once sit somewhere else!" Mindy huffed with her hands on her hips.

Tara just grinned and leaned back against you. "I'm doing you a favor, you know Y/N might escape if I don't do this."

You wrapped an arm around Tara's waist and leaned your head back, feeling just a tad bit annoyed. "Gee, sorry for not wanting to live by movie logic," a good movie to watch as a way to have fun? Sure, any time, especially with Tara. This was just going too far for your taste.

"Too bad, Y/N, this is your life now!" Mindy walked over to you and poked the side of your head. "The sooner you accept that, the better."

"Never!" you gave a defiant, and maybe a bit childish, refusal.

"You can't fight this, miss MMA! Besides, we are in a franchise, and characters aren't safe anymore, so you better listen, especially Sam and Tara," any fun you might have been having with this conversation was gone in an instant.

"No one is killing Tara or Sam," you felt Tara twitch slightly on your lap, you figured it was due to the tone of your voice, lower than usual and promising pain to whoever tried to hurt either of the two sisters. "No one is killing any of you, not you, not Chad, and not Anika, not while I'm breathing."

Mindy looked away from you, touched, but not really believing your words. "You can't promise that, Y/N, but thanks anyway."

Your eyes met hers, you understood, while you would do everything in you power and protect Tara you couldn’t be everywhere at once, you couldn’t claim no one would get killed as long as you were breathing, not after Wes and Liv being killed last year. You would still do your very best to keep them all safe.

"Okay, I'm sensing tension here, let's just relax and have a fun slumber party as the Core Five," Chad and Sam came into the kitchen while Anika stayed back in the living room watching news.

"Core what now?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Core Five?" Sam asked at basically the same time.

"Did you just give us a nickname?" Tara asked in utter disbelief.

"I sure did! I mean, we've been through a lot together and it's a pretty cool nickname," Chad explained and you honestly could go along with that logic.

"That's debatable," Sam wasn't quite on board yet.

"It's extremely debatable," Tara definitely wasn't in favor of it.

"You can't just give yourself a nickname, dingus," Mindy was probably just messing with Chad.

"Of course I can, dingus, because I just did," Chad raised his palm for a high five. "Core Five up top!" he exclaimed.

"No." Mindy immediately rejected him.

"Down low!" he tried with Tara.

"Get that away from me," Tara laughed.

"Please, for the love of God, Sam!" he might have been getting a bit desperate.

"Don't do it!" Mindy, perhaps seeing that Sam might actually do it, quickly interfered.

"Y/N!" he tried one last time.

"You know what, I feel sorry, here's to your Core Five staying alive five," you high-fived Chad, ignoring the incredulous look on Tara's face.

"Thank you!" and Chad looked happy, so win-win.

"I can't believe you," Tara shook her head.

"What? It's kinda cool," you shrugged, but before an argument could be made for or against the nickname your phone rang. Tara nearly jumped off your lap, but you kept a firm hold on her. "Yes?" you picked up without even looking at the caller ID. Maybe you should change that habit…

"Y/N L/N?" that didn't sound like the way a Ghostface would start the conversation.

"That's me," you replied, keeping caution at bay.

"We received a report of alarms going off at the gym you work at. Thomas Laurent called us and said he was out of state and that you'd come to handle the situation. We just need you to come by and make sure everything is still here," the woman spoke over the phone, and you nodded, making up your mind in a second.

"Not the best moment, but sure, I'll be there as soon as I can," you hung up and realized Tara wasn't budging. "Love, I know it's not ideal, but I'd like to keep my job," you pressed soft kisses to the back of her neck. "I promise I'll be careful."

"I'm going with you," Tara decided still not moving from your lap.

"Tara, no you're not," Sam didn't waste a moment, she just outright put her foot down.

"Listen to Sam, please, you'll be safer here," you pleaded for Tara to just listen to you this once. Ater all, if this was the trap you were guessing it was, this was your best bet. There were two options, either Ghostface was waiting for you at the gym, or he was trying to separate you from the group and attack them.

"You're not going anywhere either, Y/N," and it looked like both sisters were about to give you trouble.

"Sam," you tried to argue, a plan already forming in your head, and you didn’t feel like letting this opportunity get away.

"Thank you!" Tara looked so happy Sam was on her side in this. She then turned to you. "You're either not going, or I'm going with you, the same way we agreed on me going to parties."

You and Sam both groaned at that, Tara really shouldn’t have mentioned that agreement when she broke it twice.

"You were beaten! You're not going alone!" Tara argued, before either of you could respond to her previous argument.

"T, if this Ghostface that attacked you really is stronger than Y/N, and she really has to go, then she'll be safer on her own, or, if someone has to go with her, it should be Chad," no one quite liked the idea of you going anywhere, and you were sure Mindy didn't exactly like the idea of Chad leaving either, even if she did suggest it.

"I'm definitely going with you. We'll beat this chucklefuck up together," Chad seemed confident, and the way Sam was nodding at that had Tara reluctantly getting up.

You got up and grabbed your car keys and wallet. "No one is going with me. I'll be in and out," you sighed when Tara wrapped her arms around your waist. "Tara, Love," as gently as you could you got her to let go of you. As hard as she tried there was pretty much nothing Tara could do to you unless you let her, and you sometimes wondered if she got so used to you giving in to her wishes and demands that she forgot that fact. "Please, don't make this harder than it should be," you understood, you really did, but the sooner you left the better.

Tara looked you in the eyes. "Please, don't leave," it nearly made you change your mind.

"Trust me, I'm not about to walk into a trap," you assured her, you reached up and touched her cheek. "We need to be rational about this," even if it did hurt to leave Tara like this you turned to Sam. "I know this isn't the smartest option, but I made up my mind."

You didn't exactly leave a lot of space for arguing and by now they all knew how stubborn you were. And so, you left the group, taking your spare keys with you.

~X~

You left the apartment. You actually left Tara and she… she was frightened, not for herself, the apartment was fairly safe as far as she was concerned. She was there, Sam was there, Chad, Mindy and Anika were there, with five on one even the Ghostface that fought against you would have troubles. So, no, she wasn’t afraid for her life, she was afraid for you, you reckless, asshole. You left when Tara all but begged you not to, you were knowingly putting your life in danger when you knew one moment of carelessness could mean death. And you just wanted Tara to accept it and wait helplessly for you to come back home.

And it made Tara angry. It was a similar feeling to the one she’d get when she had mood swings back in Woodsboro, only even stronger this time, and her emotions were out of control. She needed you here, both to feel safe and to complain to you about your behavior.

"Hey, she'll be fine," surprisingly, the one who reassured Tara was Anika.

Tara looked to the side. "How can you be so sure?" a part of her wanted to say something along the lines of 'easy for you to say', but she knew better. Maybe it was because you and Anika didn't have siblings in the friend group, or maybe it was because Anika was the one who helped four months ago when Tara first disappeared, but somehow the two of you bonded a bit more than Tara expected. You definitely bonded more with Anika than with Ethan. Granted, that was true for the entire group, not just you. Except maybe Chad since Ethan was his roommate.

"Come on, T, she's strong and smart, she's either sure she can handle whatever trap someone could be setting up for her, or she has a plan of her own," and if you had a plan you weren't about to say it.

Perhaps you just didn't trust Anika enough to openly say what you were going to do.

It didn't stop Tara from worrying about you, but she couldn't do anything but believe in you. So, she felt better. You'd come back to her. You always did. "Thanks, Anika," she smiled, and then they heard the news that Sam was the suspect.

~X~

You needed to be quick about this. Luckily, there was a gas station near your apartment, so you approached the first younger driver you saw. "Hey, would you like to earn three hundred bucks, with absolutely no effort?" the moment those words left your mouth you wondered if your morals completely abandoned you.

"Huh?" the kid you approached probably wasn't even out of high school.

"Look," you showed him a police tracker. "You drive away with this in your car, in the opposite direction of your home. Then, a couple of miles away from here just chuck this somewhere. No matter what, don't keep it," as long as he kept driving and went far enough you genuinely hoped nothing bad would happen, but you needed to get rid of the bloody tracker.

You should probably thank Sidney for making you paranoid about trackers on your car.

"Uh, sure," quick and easy money, coupled with the kid being young and likely naive did the job.

"Thanks," you said and handed the tracker and the money over to him. "Throw it away, and don't stop, just throw it, you hear me," you really hoped you wouldn't see the kid got stabbed in the news tomorrow morning. "Don't ever do this again though, you never know who you're dealing with!" you hollered as you ran back to your car.

You were suspicious the moment that call came, guessing Ghostface would be trying to separate you from the group. Either to jump you or attack the others, you weren't sure. But you weren't about to take the bait. You drove like a maniac, parking the car in the back alley less than a minute from the building you lived in. Even less if you ran. And then you hid in the shadows, watching the entrance, thankful you chose to wear a black hoodie today.

Your phone rang and you picked up, once again without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello, Y/N," oh, you recognized that voice. "What are you doing so far from your workplace?"

"Ruining your plans," you were relieved the kid listened to you.

"Hardly. I got you exactly where I want you. Away from home," that would have been chilling to hear if you weren't looking at the entrance and noticing the figure approaching.

"If you even try to touch them," you warned, stepping away from the shadows, and as silently as you could you went after the Ghostface.

"What are you going to do about it?" you didn't respond, seeing as you were already about a dozen feet behind the killer. "Silent, huh? Will you be that silent when I carve up your little whore," you grabbed Ghostface from behind and slammed him into the ground.

"Sorry, whore really doesn't fit any of my loved ones," you picked up the knife he dropped and quickly stabbed him several times, but just as you were about to slit his throat you heard tires screeching, horns blaring, and looked up to see a car heading right toward you and the Ghostface.

You jumped up to your feet and headed for the stairs, you got inside just as another Ghostface emerged from the car and went to his fallen accomplice in crime.

You felt your blood run cold when you took a good look at the two. They weren't nearly as big as the one you fought at the bodega.

No.

Fuck!

Would this one run after you or get the other one out of the way? You didn't know. It didn't matter.

~X~

Tara couldn't remember the last time fifteen minutes made her go through such a rollercoaster of emotions. First, she was worried about you, then reassured, then she had to completely shift focus on comforting Sam, and then, finally, she even allowed herself to be excited and happy for Sam because she was sleeping with Danny, or Cute Boy, as Tara dubbed him, mostly to see if you'd get jealous. You didn't even react, but the nickname kinda stuck around.

And then they all heard Anika scream.

Tara jumped to her feet and ran into the living room to see Ghostface standing over Anika with a knife in her stomach.

"Anika!" Mindy cried out as Tara, before anyone could grab her lunged at Ghostface and tried to push him off Anika.

He wouldn't budge, Tara was trying with everything she had, pushing the forearm, but nothing worked.

"Feisty," Ghostface chuckled, entirely unbothered by her efforts.

Tara suddenly remembered all those times she watched you fight, pulled her fist back, and with all her weight put behind the punch she hit him right where his liver was.

He flinched, probably more surprised than anything, and pushed Anika aside. Before Tara could react, he grabbed her left forearm and pulled her closer. "You should have left the fighting to your girlfriend," he taunted and raised his knife. And she screamed, for a moment feeling like she was back in Woodsboro, with Amber, in her robes above her on the night she was attacked for the first time.

Everything turned hectic from that moment. Sam grabbed the arm holding the knife and pushed, desperately trying to keep the knife from reaching Tara as Chad jumped in and punched Ghostface in the face. Tara did her best to push as well and they managed to topple him over.

"Help Anika!" Chad got on top of him, hitting him with all he had several times and for a moment Tara thought they would be safe. She thought Chad's hits were enough to defeat the man, because while he wasn’t as skilled as you were, Chad wasn’t weak by any means.

"Chad get back!" Sam, however, saw something else and went to pull Chad back. Only then did Tara see the man had his forearms raised and was blocking each and every hit Chad made. And it looked a lot like how you would fight in the cage. There was no doubt in Tara’s mind now, this man was an MMA fighter and she felt her blood run cold, because she knew exactly how dangerous that made him.

There was no mistaking it. This was the Ghostface that attacked the three of you at the bodega. Sam wasn't strong or fast enough to pull Chad away in time and Ghostface stabbed Chad right below his chest.

He violently yanked the knife out, making the wound even worse as blood splattered on the floor and Chad cried out as he and Sam fell back. Tara watched in horror as Sam managed to get back on her feet only to just barely avoid the knife.

"Run!" Sam yelled and Tara went to help Anika to her feet. There was no way they could reach the front doors, but maybe they could lock the bedroom doors and call for help from there. Mindy, trusting Tara to handle helping Anika went to get Chad, only to get sliced across her left biceps.

Sam grabbed a lamp and threw it at Ghostface, slowing him down just enough for all five of them to flee into the guest bedroom.

They had no idea what to do now, though. They didn't bring their phones. They barely managed to block both of the doors and Ghostface kept trying to break through.

"Sam!" they heard Danny yelling from his apartment and Sam went to the window.

"Shit," she cursed, and Tara realized they really had no way out. Ghostface would break in sooner rather than later.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Tara looked at Sam, not knowing what was happening, all she was focusing on was trying to slow down Anika's bleeding. "Fuck, I don't," Sam grabbed onto something and Tara realized it was a ladder.

"Tara! Tara, go!" Sam ushered her to the ladder.

"Sam! Wait!" Tara tried to argue, but Sam just grabbed her shoulders and made her look into her sister's eyes.

"Listen to me, we'll send Anika next, but I need you to get out of here," the frantic, frightened look in Sam's eyes made Tara give up on fighting.

Tara pulled Sam into a hug. "Please don't die," she begged and, not having any more time to waste, went to the ladder. She looked Danny in the eyes and swallowed down her fear. The last thing anyone needed right now was for her asthma to kick in. Slow, deep breaths. She thought about you, about how you'd be encouraging her right now, but she was moving too slowly. The lack of strength in her left hand made her uncertain.

"Come on, Tara, I got you, Sam will be right behind you, you can do it," Danny encouraged her, reaching out for her to grab onto his hands. And she did, she grabbed on and with his help made her way to the safety of his apartment.

"Sam!" she immediately cried out, now feeling even more anxious since she had no idea what was happening in the apartment. She could still hear Ghostface trying to break into the apartment, she flinched when she heard wood cracking but managed to keep her breathing under control when she saw Sam climb onto the ladder.

Sam began making her way over, but the ladder shook slightly. "It won't hold me," Sam spoke what Tara feared the most at the moment.

"It ain't going anywhere, it's gonna hold you, I promise," Danny kept a firm hold on the ladder and Sam nodded slightly.

"Eyes on me, Sam, come on, I got you," just like he did with Tara he reached out for Sam and pulled her inside.

Sam immediately hugged Tara, trembling slightly, and then looking at Danny. "Thank you," she whispered. "Okay, she turned back toward their apartment. "Come on!" she yelled for the others to get across.

"Mindy! Chad! Anika!" Tara yelled, hoping any of them would just get to the ladder and get out of there before it was too late. She saw Mindy and Anika getting close to the window. Her heart shattered when she saw Anika and Mindy kissing, possibly for the last time, and Mindy climbing on the ladder.

"Anika and Chad are coming right behind you! They're right behind you!" Sam kept yelling, keeping Mindy from panicking. She made it to the other side of the ladder much faster than either Tara or Sam. It wasn't fast enough though.

Just as Anika climbed onto the ladder they heard the doors slamming open.

"Chad!" Mindy screamed. They didn't see it, but they heard a loud thud and what sounded like a body dropping.

And then Ghostface was at the window, stabbing the knife next to the ladder.

"What?" Anika asked, afraid and in pain and there was nothing they could do to help.

"Anika you have to move now!" Mindy cried out as the man slowly, as if taunting them reached down for the ladder.

"No!" Tara cried out, and then she felt like her heart stopped beating for a moment when she saw a fist colliding with the side of Ghostface's head.

You came back.

~X~

You could hear the screams as you were running down the hall toward the doors. You could see blood from the moment you burst into the apartment. You saw red when you realized Chad was struggling to get up and Ghostface was reaching down for the ladder.

Why was there a ladder? You had no idea. It didn't matter. You rushed into the guest bedroom crashing your fist against the side of his head and for good measure slamming your entire body into Ghostface.

Both of you dropped to the floor and you placed him in a hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and right arm as you pressed his left forearm down with your knee.

"Y/N," Chad stumbled to his feet and you could see how unsteady he was.

"Get out of here! Get across the ladder!" you yelled, still not sure what that other Ghostface was going to do. "I've got him, just go!" you could feel Ghostface trying to get on his knees, but you kicked his leg and added pressure to the forearm at the same time.

You could hear Chad climbing onto the ladder as you tried to choke Ghostface. Even with as much strength as you were putting behind your hold, he managed to grab your forearm and pull just enough to prevent you from choking him.

You were stuck in a different dilemma though. Should you fight him right now? Just try to end the biggest threat? You were vaguely aware of the knife next to the ladder, you could reach it before Ghostface, but you weren't sure you could be quick enough to end it all before he got back to his feet.

"Y/N!" hearing Tara crying out for you made you consider just running away. Just getting across the ladder as quickly as you can instead of fighting. Leaving the fight for another day and just hoping you’d get a better chance to finish him off.

Hearing footsteps closing in made the decision for you and you jumped to your feet and went for the window just as the other Ghostface came in, knife twirling between his fingers.

You didn't have time to do it carefully. "Out of the way!" you yelled and jumped out of the window, just barely keeping your balance as you lunged forward and tumbled into Danny's apartment. The ladder fell as you stumbled into someone and tripped over your own feet.

You knew who you stumbled into before you even opened your eyes. You felt her trembling arms clinging to the back of your hoodie. When you opened your eyes you saw Tara beneath you, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled you down to kiss you.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking her over when she allowed you to pull away.

Tara nodded frantically. "I am, I'm okay, Y/N," she whispered, and you relaxed just for a moment before looking around you. You weren't too late, everyone was still alive. Everyone but Tara and Sam were injured, but they were all alive and you hugged Tara tightly, kissing the side of her head and muttering a soft thank you into her ear.

~X~

You were all, aside from Anika, more or less, fine. Chad had a concussion and a deep stab wound, but he could still move around and Mindy's cut, while painful, wasn't deep enough to cause permanent damage. Tara, Sam and you were, for the most part, just a bit shaken.

Anika was the one you were all the most worried about. Her wound was serious, and while she survived, and the surgery went well none of you knew when she would wake up or if there would be any lasting issues caused by what she went through.

You folded your arms and squeezed at your biceps, barely keeping yourself from biting your lip. You thought you could outsmart the killers and it nearly cost Anika, and everyone else, their lives.

You stepped back and leaned your back against the wall. Events of last year came to mind as you watched Mindy watching over Anika while Tara was comforting her to the best of her abilities. You guessed you had a similar expression back when you were waiting for Tara to wake up.

Chad walked over to you, leaned against the wall, and placed a hand on your shoulder. "What now?" he asked.

"You stay here, protect Mindy and Anika, and leave the rest to us," in any other circumstances you were sure he would argue. That he would demand to be there for Tara, Sam, and you, so he could help you fight. But this was his sister and not only was she injured she wouldn't leave her girlfriend here.

"Y/N is right, Chad, you're needed here," Sam understood. Everyone understood what the only option was for Chad.

So, he nodded. "You better come back. We are Core Five," you could see in his eyes that he felt bad about his choice, but this was one of those situations, where you just had to choose the one most important to you. The pair of siblings would choose one another, no matter who was on the other side, and no matter how much it would hurt them if they had to choose.

"Yeah, you might want to change the nickname, use six instead of five," you said, firmly believing that Anika would make it out of this completely fine.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #sam carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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lollytea · 2 years

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Okay okay okay so my thoughts are a little jumbled right now so I'm not very coherent but I need to blabber about this one element of huntlow in For the Future that's got me going off the rails. It's the way in which they both take initiative in their interactions with each other, specifically how it differs with both Willow and Hunter.

There's a bit of a vibe in a lot of huntlow content that puts emphasis on Willow's confidence and Hunter's shyness, so she's the one who talks, who flirts, who acts, who gets the ball rolling. Meanwhile, Hunter clearly reciprocates and enjoys her attention but allows her to take the lead, rather than initiate anything himself. And this interpretation is perfectly fine. It's cute!! And Thanks to Them kinda gave us the impression that it wouldn't be that unlikely.

But the scenes involving them in For the Future were SO good. As an interesting subversion of the point above, it's actually Willow who's become the more uncertain one in their dynamic. As a contrast to how she comforts Gus when he tears up, Willow is rather hands-off when it comes to Hunter. It's likely because she understands that what he needs right now is space to process his grief, but in addition to that, she might be at a complete loss on how to help him. Because what could she possibly say? Willow can promise Gus that she'll find his Dad, she can assure Camila that things with Luz will be alright, but she can't bring Flapjack back. And even at this point in the episode, this may have been adding to her steadily escalating feelings of stress and helplessness. ("I can't help my friends...")

Willow feels like she keeps fucking up when it comes to Hunter. When she allowed herself that brief moment of childish indulgence by being silly with the plants, which resulted in Hunter snapping at her? Oh the way her smile dropped and she looked utterly devastated. She must have felt so guilty, so ashamed, so frustrated with herself for being so stupid and goofing off when her friend was severely hurting. And it's not like he was wrong for saying they didn't have time for this. But in typical Willow fashion, she shoved those feelings down and put on a smile for Gus.

There's no implication of it but I wonder if she also felt like an idiot for letting her emotions get the better of her when she saw that puppet of her Dad. She put herself in harm's way, forcing Hunter to charge after her and pull her to safety. Do you think she wonders if he was annoyed by that? Maybe that was eating away at her too. She's trying to be level-headed and reliable but it seems like she keeps slipping up. And Hunter is always there to witness it.

Of course, Willow didn't stop trying. Though she may have felt a bit rejected and disliked by him at the time, Willow still made the effort to look out for Hunter in any way that she could. She suggested they go outside and keep him company while he was pacing himself into the ground. And later on, she lit up with delight when she found something that she believed would comfort him.

And then she expressed, in her typical warm Willowy way, that they loved him unconditionally. She didn't have the perfect words to make everything okay. She was just being herself. Willow took a chance with this boy she didn't know how to help and simply said what she felt, hoping it would give him some semblance of solace.

But being herself wasn't good enough. At least not in Willow's eyes. She already had fragile confidence in regards to Hunter's current opinion of her but ohhhh the deafening silence that followed after she had bared her heart to him. The way she brought him to tears, leading her to believe she had rubbed salt in the wound. The way Luz had to gently intervene to make sure he was alright and Willow felt like sinking into the floor. How Hunter's quiet little "I....don't know..." speared her through. All of those things pushing her to her breaking point. She's made everything worse. Because that's what Half-a-Witch Willow does.

Hunter's perceived opinion of her is utterly deteriorating Willow's self confidence and it's the thing that results in her self loathing inflicted descent into thorny vines. She's in denial at first, still struggling to hold it together, still insisting that she can grasp hold of some facade. The pitchy and nervous tone of voice as Hunter appears on the scene and she desperately feigns nonchalance. She knows deep down that her magic is spiralling out of control but she cannot let him know. She cannot let him see her like this. And with this added anxiety of Hunter's presence, the vines only get worse.

Meanwhile, when it comes to Hunter, he is not idle by any means. He takes a proactive role in almost all of his significant moments with Willow.

Obviously, Hunter is a protector. He shields his friends from physical harm. He's especially paranoid about them getting hurt now after what happened to Flapjack because he can't lose them too. This paranoia, in addition to his overwhelming grief and recent trauma, has made Hunter high strung and irritable. Keeping his friends alive is his priority right now. Because of this, their emotional needs and how his snappish behavior is affecting them, is understandably the furthest thing from his mind.

But once he realizes that he's hurt Willow's feelings? Oh he looks completely shattered. The way Gus runs out the door to find her and Hunter murmurs "Wait..." before he rushes after both of them, calling out their names, begging for them to come back. There's none of the hesitation that Willow demonstrates with him, only loud desperation. What does he even intend to say to Willow? Who knows. Honestly, I don't think Hunter knows either. But it's not about that. It doesn't matter if Hunter has no idea what he's gonna say once he catches up with her. What matters is that he's running after her at all. He knows one thing and it's that he has to do something.

And that's what Hunter continues to do from that point. Something.

When he finds her tangled up in her own vines, mentally and emotionally unraveling, Gus hanging in distress above their heads, he's immediately asking her to explain, concerned and alarmed. When Willow's feigned cheerful demeanour shows its cracks and the vines start to ensnare Hunter, the last thing he does before he's fully bound is take a step towards the obviously overwhelmed and frightened Willow and try to reach out for her. Again, what was he planning to do? What was he gonna say? He probably had no idea. His actions were likely instinctive. But the fact that trying to provide some form of comfort to Willow was an instinctive response from him speaks volumes about their relationship. He's not going to stand around and do nothing while she's upset. Even if he's bad with words and emotions, he's always gonna try. She's worth trying for.

Cannot stress this enough but by the time her vines begin to consume her, Willow has probably convinced herself that Hunter's high regard for her has completely plummeted. Because why wouldn't it? This is, without a doubt, Willow at her most pathetic. But during this moment of complete wretchedness and self destruction, Hunter is the one who acts.

He bursts out of the vines and bundles her up in his arms. His hands press down on her shoulders and he frantically assures her that she's not to blame for any of this and she didn't ruin anything. He eases her anxieties by vocally expressing just how much he cares about her. He begs her not to be so mean to herself. And then, with desolate eyes and a soft gentle voice, he asks if she's been holding all this in the whole time.

He wants an answer. He wants her to talk to him. He wants her to tell him what's wrong so he can try to help. He wants to listen. And he's taking the initiative to get there.

And Willow's completely stunned face upon hearing all of this shows just how overgrown her insecurities had become, leading her to become entangled in the worst possible conclusion. She was now receieving affection and loving words from none other than the boy who she fully believed had lost patience with her for constantly messing everything up. The way the first tears pricked and her mouth wobbled when that soft gentle voice expressed concern for her, seconds before the dam inevitably burst. It was all a little too much for her I think.

Also can I talk about the little finger link?? I've been dying to talk about the little finger link!!!!

Everything about how that scene is executed is so sweet to me. Willow, though she's a lot more reassured over where she stands with Hunter, is still a little unsure on how to approach this. She doesn't hold his whole hand. No, that might be a bit much. For both Hunter and herself. Let's start smaller. Less nerve racking.

Of course, if she's still so hesitant, she doesn't have to touch him at all. But she wants to. She really wants to have physical contact with him in some capacity right now, even if it's as tentative as could be. In holding his hand, Willow would be making a rather bold statement. But in linking pinkies, it's more like she's asking a question. Is this okay?

She's clearly a bit unsure. Noticeably not looking at the touch, eyes locked on her feet before she speaks. But as unsure as it is, I think she's pretty brave for doing it at all.

What gets me is that what Hunter said left such an impact on her that she was compelled to thank him. She was grateful to be told that she didn't ruin everything. She had wanted to be told that she meant something to him. Even though she wasn't aware of it, she's realized that hearing those words took a huge weight off her chest. Willow could breathe again. She could see him a little clearer now. And she would like to tell him just how much those words meant to her. Just how much he meant to her.

This is the moment where Hunter silently answers Willow's question. He's choked up, he's nervous, he's overwhelmed, but in spite of all that, he still takes initiative.

In linking their pinkies, Willow is asking Is this okay?

And when Hunter deliberately presses the back of his hand against hers, he's answering her question. It's more than okay.

Anyway Hunter being proactive in almost all of the huntlow scenes, Willow being the more nervous one between them, neither getting to the point they've gotten to if they didn't each take the lead at different moments. It was all so good.

#toh spoilers #huntlow #long post #me: not making any long posts about my ftf thoughts yet i am tired #me five minutes later:#does this even MAKE SENSE?? like do you understand the point im making???#i feel like im not explaining it thoroughly enough #im tired

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thereareeyesinsidethetrees · 27 days

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handholding is common with the stan twins

when they were kids, it was something that was started by stan. well, kind of. caryn took care to hold ford’s hand whenever she took him places, an assertion that she cared for him, extra fingers and all, and a comfort, as her hands hid his own. stan took up the role himself when caryn couldn’t, having noticed how ford seemed more comfortable when his hands were being held

when they were teens, it was an act of rebellion. stan knew it still comforted ford, but they both seethed whenever filbrick told them that men don’t hold hands, that they need to pick one, that they can’t be doing ‘girl things’ when they’re ‘pretending to be men’

stan held ford’s hand at the dinner table and took care to sit by caryn so filbrick wouldn’t do anything. not right away, anyway. ford would hold his hand from the top bunk as he bit back sobs

ford hated the feel of skin on skin, he told fiddleford. so they didn’t hold hands, as much as fiddleford would have loved to. in truth, it just didn’t feel right. his hand felt wrong in ford’s, it lacked the familiarity and the firm but careful way fingers curled around his own, making perfect space for them

stan hated the feeling, too. not that anyone wanted to hold his hand, of course- it was the lack of anything. it felt like something was missing. his hands never seem as warm as they used to

ford holds his own hands as he hides from the latest group of bounty hunters

stan wakes up more times than he can count to find his hand laid atop the front of his brother’s journal

stan is pissed at his brother. but he notices how clammy and cold ford’s hand is, and how it’s trembling and can’t seem to grip stan’s quite right. stan tightens his grip, steadying ford’s shaking. he lets go again not too long after and they both slip and fall

ford clutches stan’s hands desperately as he fights with reality. he can feel chains, but he can’t see them…stan’s hands both feel and look real, though. stan holds just as tightly as he struggles to piece together who he is. the fog is impossible to get through, but ford clears a path

stan holds ford’s hand as he leads him out onto the first beach they come across- a port swarmed with a bustling crowd. they laugh together at the morons that call them sissies and they both get a chance to do something they never could when they were kids. ford gives ‘em the bird. stan gets to punch someone in the face. they stop at a diner and stan grasps ford’s hand under the table so he feels safer in the noisy busy environment. ford holds stan’s hand from the top bunk later that night as he assures him he’s fine and it was just a nightmare and he’s fine, he promises, all with a waver in his voice

they visit glass shard beach. they hold hands as they sit on the sand under what remains of the swings and reminiscence and watch the sun dip under the horizon. they hold hands as they walk and spit on filbrick’s grave and stan actually buys flowers to lay on caryn’s. they hold hands as shermie opens his front door and sees them as they really are for the first time in over thirty years. they hold hands as they properly meet the nibling’s parents

they hold hands as they wait at the bus stop the next summer and watch soos and melody get married and catch up on all the time they missed

(this is all headcanon ae’m unleashing unto the world)

#abuse #reference to abuse #child abuse #transphobia #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #(do not tag as ship. bad things will happen)

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chiiyuuvv · 6 months

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xikers as descendants tropes!

descendants!xikers x fem!reader 1.3k words requested!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

Mal and Ben’s dynamic has been pretty cute over the first two movies. The constant “I can’t do it” , “Yes you can, I'm right here with you.” personally warms my heart to see the level of assurance and comfort that takes place between the two characters.

If Minjae fitted into Mal’s character, he would definitely need a bit (a lot) of reassurance, and that's okay! He could be stressed out about producing or school, and your kind words would make the time go by a little faster. One thing I noticed is that Mal is trying to live up to her parents' expectations, so I could see the same with Minjae and his parents. Maybe they wanted him to go the typical doctor route, but he knows deep down that he loves producing. Being there with him and helping along the way, showing, telling him that he is his own person and that he should find his own light will definitely make him shed a tear. Of joy, of course.

If Hunter fitted into Ben's character, I can definitely see all the sweet gestures and words he would give you. Sure, you may have argued the previous day, but Hunter would do everything in his power to break the ice, and talk to you about it – resolve the situation. The amount of pet names he would give you would make your head spin because he truly wants you to know how special you are and how much you mean to him. He definitely is your prince charming.

Evie and Doug over the first two movies have been super cute, but not that much action should I say? Compared to Mal and Ben, their storyline hasn't been as clear. One minute they're sharing glances, then the next minute they're talking as friends/classmates? I think Disney could have done a better job at connecting everything (this is based off of the first two movies btw) but, this is obviously love at first sight, and he fell first, yet she fell harder 🤭

If Junmin fitted into Doug's character, I could definitely see him play the more nerdy role. Junmin knows a few things and despite the stereotypes given to Evie (or to you), he'd be more than willing to help you out.. study together.. indirectly asking for your number/a date. This is so junmin. He would be a little shy at first because of his newfound feelings, but once you get closer and he gets to know you more, he'd be a little flirty, touchy, smiley.. are you picking up what I'm putting down?

If Hyunwoo fitted into Evie's character, I feel like hyunwoo would have this desire to kind of fit in, but through Doug (or you again), he would learn to be more of himself. I don't really know what I'm saying for this one, but hyunwoo would feel more like himself whenever he's with you. He'd be a little oblivious to your liking towards him, but once you start talking more and befriend each other, he'd kind of get slapped with that feeling, and fall even harder than before.

Again, Disney didn't really do a good job connecting everything when it comes to Jay and Lonnie. There were some things that didn't make as much sense.. but I'm still going to write about them 🫡 In the second movie, Lonnie says wordlessly that girls can do the same things as boys, and in the few scenes, they showcase how astonish yet proud Jay is to see her go. In the end, Jay gives away his captain role so Lonnie could still play with them, without breaking the rules.

If sumin fitted into Jay's character, which I can definitely see btw, he’d almost be like a frat boy; insanely good looks and he’s good at sports too?? The girls are drooling over him. And sumin acknowledges that, yet he doesn't decide to hook up with a random girl (he prob did but this is a kids movie for god's sake) because he shows respect to them. He’d, again, be shocked to see a girl that’s so courageous like you, and that would give his heart a little ping. Who knows, he might even invite you to the school dance ;)

If Junghoon fitted into Lonnie’s character, I think he would fall for someone who allows him to be himself (?) Like since Lonnie issn’t the traditional girl and Jay didn’t try to do anything to interfere with that, you know? He thinks to himself, “wow.. I’m able to be my complete self around her,” and he’d definitely showcase that in your presence. And if you return the energy? He’s jumping off the walls on the inside, but giving a small smile to hide his happiness.

I remember watching Descendants 2 when I was little and grinning whenever Jane and Carlos came on the screen. Their love life is honestly what I daydream about, and I’m not jealous obviously. Carlos spends his time on the movie pining for Jane, but is too nervous to tell her about it. He does confess to Jane, but it’s through this ramble confession that makes my heart flutter :((

If jinsik fitted into Jane’s character, he’d be a little (very) oblivious to your feelings. Like you want to go out for coffee because you like being around him? He’d think it's some kind of compliment or maybe because you want to get some homework done or something. So he does accidentally put you into the friend zone which you desperately want to escape, but he probably won’t realize his feelings unless you confess to him and basically put him on the spot. Because this feeling is so sudden, he would want to start everything slow, just so he can adjust to it all.

If yechan fitted into Carlos’s character, which I can definitely see btw pt. 2, he would use his more silly and whimsical side to get your attention, and to get some laughter bubbling out of you. When he starts to get all fuzzy while hearing your laughter, he knows he’s fallen deep, and things start to get a little awkward. Maybe that’s why you accidentally friend zone him? But just know that he’s been practicing his confession on his friends (they all hate it), and he feels prepared.. He just needs to find the right moment ;) pt. 2

For the third time, Disney doesn’t do a good job at explaining Uma and Harry’s ship, so this is all based on something I found on the internet. Uma and Harry’s dynamic is more like teasing your best friend, but knowing that they will always have your back and vice versa. They also have more perks, like giving away something that means a lot to them to the other. (*cough cough* Harry giving uma his hook) They are very silly around each other but know when to get serious!

If seeun fitted into Harry’s character, he’d definitely be your personal trickster, only giving you sly smiles whenever he gets caught. You also have lots of childhood memories that you both adore, sometimes spending your shared time giggling under your pillow fort together. Not only that, but seeun is also your personal bodyguard. You don’t like how someone looks at you? He’d do everything in his power to separate the both of you, and if the person gets mad, he is there to take any hits. He is very loyal to his bestie. Heck, he’d even take your side when he knows that you’re in the wrong.

If yujun fitted into Uma’s character, he would be a little more assertive through your teachings, and loyal as a dog to you. You were most likely childhood besties, so you’d always have a special place in his heart. If you were to give him something that meant a lot to you, he’d honestly get a little teary eyed, because it shows that he means a lot to you too :(( You are definitely his comfort place, and he’d do everything in his power to protect the one he loves.

︴bonus! i loved this idea saur much! You know, despite disney making cringe movies, they actually have very good morals built into them. Like girls can do the same as boy, and you don't always have to follow your parents strict expections; it made me smile to that. Also, funny story, I was taking notes while watching the films and then I come back the next day to find the notes gone?! Turns out it was saved to a different file which is weird.. anyways please request for more fun headcanons!

▸ taglist 🎧 @lil-elle , @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @mars101 , @nenede , @wonootnoot , @pinievsev , @yuniniverse , @hunchan444 , @s00buwu , @cherrycolaberry , @yoiiwonn , @kookieswithjung , @hakyunz (welcome!)

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

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watermelongirl01 · 23 days

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Fresh Blood Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Maybe your recovery was a bigger challenge for Hotch than it was for you.

Content Warning: Violence Explanation and a Worried Hotchner.

“Hotch.” A firm voice called from the door for the BAU leader.

Hotch turned his sight just to look at Rossi’s worried face. He got closer to embrace you into a strong hug, but quickly returned at the door waiting for Hotch.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Soon to be engaged.”

“What?” Rossi asked with confusion.

Hotch left the room at the right time, following Rossi’s steps down the hall.

“Do we have something new?”

“Her parents are on the way, they want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“You have to be kidding Hotch, you saved her daughter’s life, you realized first than anyone that she was missing.”

“And JJ”

“Yeah, but JJ didn’t shove transit rules down her ass just to get to her.” Rossi’s exasperation got the best of him earning Hotch’s severe look. “I can see you care.”

“She’s my agent, of course, I care.”

“Not like that, and I don’t mean to meddle in your business, but maybe after this, you should let yourself be happy, 'cause I can tell she cares too” Aaron furrowed his eyebrows.

“We’re not talking about that, Do we know something about her attacker?” Rossi sighed, feeling defeated.

“According to her father, Gordon is a hunter, great skills, but with questionable morals, and a few months ago he had an argument with a close friend leading him to prison, he thinks her daughter got caught in the middle of all.”

“I disagree, she said someone was in danger and she had to let them know.”

“He was looking for something?”

“Possibly” Rossi nodded while reaching for his phone in his suit jacket pocket. “I’ll stay with her and try to get as much information as I can, you can leave with the team.”

“She’s giving you that much of a hard time?”

“You are welcome to try and do it better.”

Both gentlemen walked straight into your room, finding you whispering into the phone.

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy, and at this point I don’t know if it is the concussion or the medicine cocktail.” You said ignoring the older man standing at your door. “No, Sammy, just promise me you’ll take precautions.”

When you finally looked up at the questioning eyes staring, you let out a little yelp immediately hanging up the phone.

“Hi, Dave!” You eagerly greeted.

“Hey, feeling better?” You nodded. “I’m glad, you really scared us. We just wanted to know if you have something to tell us.”

“Yeah! Did you know that you cannot spell Hotchner without Hot?” You asked with a confident smile while moving your eyebrows up and down. “I personally think that maybe that's indicative of who’s the hottest on the team.”

Rossi sent a questioning but funny look at you, but in your medicine-filled mind, you weren’t sure if you said something wrong or if he was offended by you not finding him the hottest. Hotch just didn’t know how to act, so he caught your attention by placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t tell Morgan, he gets insufferable when you say he's not your type.”

“She’s on strong meds.” Hotch assured while Rossi was trying to hide his big smile. “What David meant was, if you remember something of the man who hurt you.”

“He said I was stubborn.” You shook your head in disapproval. “Rude, really rude.”

Maybe you deflected their questions many times or maybe your snarky comments had them tired, but Rossi left the room leaving you alone with Hotch, he didn’t pressure you into telling him the truth anymore, but after the medication started to leave your body, the reality punched you in the face, so it was inevitable to begin to cooperate with him.

“Thank you for saving my life.” You said.

“What did he want?”

“Information I couldn’t give him”

“Would you tell me exactly what happened?”

An uncomfortable silence made a presence in the room, but you didn’t lose Hotch’s attention, not even for a second. You shifted on the bed trying to make yourself comfortable.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, he managed to distract me, I should’ve known the open window was bait.” You hid your face in your own hands for a moment but immediately composed yourself. “I fell right into it and he disarmed me.”

Hotch wanted to stop you, each word felt like being stabbed once again, but he needed to hear it so he could catch the guy.

“I woke up tied to the chair, and now I’m here, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not your fault, you did everything you could.”

“No, I didn’t, that’s why I’m apologizing.” You closed your eyes not wanting to see Hotch’s disappointed look. “I had the information I could’ve given to him, I chose not to.”

Hotch shifted, getting closer to you. “Why did you do that?”

“Because someone’s life was at risk.”

“So was yours.” You opened your eyes lightly looking at him with sorrow and he sighed with tiredness. “Does it have to do anything with the person you were on the phone with?”

“Yeah, I had to warn them.”

“I get that” Hotch cleared his throat then placed one of his hands above yours. “I also want to apologize.”

“Wait, don’t do that thing.”

“That thing?”

“Yes, the thing that you do when someone in the team gets hurt and you take the blame.” He looked the other way and let a little chuckle leave his lips. “He was determined to find me either way, tomorrow, after tomorrow, next week. He is to blame, not you.”

“You do know me that well, huh?” You flashed him a big smile.

“I mean, you saved me, I owe you a big one, paperwork is on me, next case.” He returned his gaze to you with a stern look. “Wait, I am going to get back, right?”

“Yeah, after two weeks on leave and one on desk duty.”

“Ha! So I’m getting paperwork either way, awesome.”

A comfortable silence flooded the room and at some point, Hotch’s and your eyes found each other. Hotch squeezed your hand.

“Would you promise me to take care of yourself more than you take care of others?”

“Right back at you, Hotch.”

“We can discuss it over dinner, I do owe you one.”

You shook your head. “I know what you’re doing there, you don’t owe me anything, you saved my life, Aaron.”

“You’re so smart, huh?”

“Hey, I almost saw Coco people, and the nurse just refilled my medication cocktail, but I can detect self-inflicted guilt when I see it.”

“Would you say yes to dinner and listen to me for once?”

“No.” You made a sudden gesture with your hands, referencing your mind blowing. “I know, shocking, but if I say yes, you’re going to believe I blame you, and I don’t.”

He sent a little smile to you and leaned closer to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to catch him.”

“I know.”

~~~

On your two weeks leave, you almost went crazy, you didn’t know if it was your parents treating you like a child, the Winchesters calling every five minutes to apologize or the members of your team taking turns to check your apartment every night.

“So, let me get this right, He was so sure Sammy was going to become a monster but he became one in the process.”

“And the one he hated the most, a vampire.” Dean’s voice said in the other line.

“That´s what I call divine justice.” You said while shifting to get comfortable on your bed, Not that you ever left it, but trying different positions on the mattress was your only way to have fun recently. “Now we know who is not going to hunter’s heaven.”

“What’s with you and heaven and angels lately? We are not going anyway.”

“We? Speak for yourself, Dean.”

“I don't think they will let in somebody who shot me on the feet when I was ten.”

“It was a mistake and I was six! It was my first time with a gun.”

“Well, now we know how good you are with guns, maybe you need another masterclass from me.”

“Hey, I had no chance with Buffy the Vampire Slayer right there, I was asleep. You know I need at least one hour to process I'm awake.” Dean’s laughter echoed in your cell phone's speakerphone

“Yeah, about that. Sammy and I were talking and although we hope this never happens again, we want to ask you to never place our whereabouts over your own life.”

“You know that´s not happening De, I'm never going to betray you like that guys.”

“Can we at least come up with a believable lie, so you don't taunt a guy with a knife in his hand again?”

“That sounds reasonable.” You agreed, and after some noises on Dean’s behalf, you found out that Sam was also in the room. “Is that Sammy? Put him in the phone!.”

“Hmm, about that.” You tilted your head on your pillow waiting for Dean’s answer. “He thinks everything is his fault and doesn't want to talk,”

“You Winchesters are something else, I swear to God, put him in the phone, I don’t care that he doesn't want to talk because he knows I’ll tell him otherwise but he’s too busy punishing himself.” You hear some noise in the other line.

“Hi.” Sam’s shy voice came to your ears. “I'm really sorry.”

“What’s with all the men in my life blaming themselves for all my mistakes, I must be irresistible.” Sam chuckled a little. “It´s not your fault Sammy.”

“He hurt you because of me.”

“He hurt me because he was a horrible man, and now he’s never going to hurt me thanks to you.”

Now you need to deal with the “Disappearing” of your aggressor, the last time he left a trace was at your building when the security camera from your lobby caught him leaving. You knew the truth, but saying “No need to search for my aggressor, he turned into a vampire and then got the headless horseman treatment by the Winchester’s hand.” Wasn’t a normal thing to say, so you went along with the lies to your team and just let Hotch know there wasn’t a need for looking for him anymore.

~~~

You arrived at the building first hour on Monday morning, using crutches wasn’t your fashion choice, but it was mandatory for at least one more week by your Doctor. You limped your way to your office meeting with an excited Emily, a ready to hug you JJ, and a happy Penelope holding a cake, right in front of your door.

“Finally! My days of sneaking around to steal your snacks are over, welcome back!” JJ embraced you in a tight hug followed by a breathtaking hug from Emily.

“Hotch forbid us from your office.” Penelope shrugged her shoulders.

“He did?” The three girls nodded at the same time.

“We missed you a lot around here.” Emily said after letting you go. “Hotch was in such a horrible mood.” You rolled your eyes.

“Aww, missed you just as much, girls.” You said with a big smile on your face, but quickly eying them with suspicion. “Are my snack drawers empty?”

—-

After a warm welcome back from the team, and a quick trip to a different floor just to get the result of your psychological evaluation, at the end of your day, you found a man sitting on your chair waiting for you.

“Hotch?”

“Hey, I was waiting for you.”

“How did you know I was still in the building?”

“Well, one, I’m aware of everything that happens with my agents, and two, there was no way you would leave early.”

“You make me sound like a workaholic, and that’s you.” You accused while pointing your finger at him.

“Dear, you know the name of every security guard at every single shift change.” You’re not going to lie, the pet name made your heart beat faster.

“Oh oh, am I in trouble boss?”

“Not at all, I just thought that everyone welcomed you back with gifts but me, so I improvised my own way.”

“Oh my God, am I dreaming? please just pinch me to know.”

Hotch rolled his eyes blurting a chuckle while he placed a bag of food from your favorite restaurant on your desk. You were sure your favorite restaurant was your best-kept secret, and you were absolutely surprised when he placed your favorite dish in front of you.

“How did you know?”

“I have my ways.” He said placing the food containers around.

“Penelope? That’s cheating.”

“Nope.” Hotch looked at you while offering you the seat. “We are going to be here for a while, you know all that paperwork, we might as well do it with a full stomach.” He simply said wearing a big smile from you.

You smiled at him. “Yes, Sir.”

What you didn’t know was that you calling him that way, also shifted something for Hotch even though he refused to admit it.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #dean winchester #fanfic #fem!reader #sam winchester #series #slow burn #supernatural #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch angst #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut #the winchester brothers #bau team

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trendywaifus · 1 year

Note

hii could i request some general kafka relationship/nsfw hcs with a female reader please? if it's okay to be a little more specific maybe a reader who is rather shy but still affectionate/likes receiving affection?

— you’re her favorite person, her baby fr. you being shy AND daring? kakfa discovered that she likes that combination verrrry much.

— whenever she sees you, she opens her arms with that smug smile on her face. yup, she’s totally expecting you to walk into her arms. it can be practically anywhere, public, who cares, she wants that hug. def where “my hug at? “ girl. kafka means well ofc but she just likes that flustered look on your face. her smug smile twists into a warm one when you walk into her midst and reciprocates her hug. “ that’s my girl~”

— kafka absolutely loves it when you give her surprise kisses out of no where. she’ll chuckles at the tickling sensation of your shy butterfly kisses and will do it back x2. ohhhh how she loves that bashful look and smile on your face when she does it, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

— she’s always looking out for you even if y’all are a few warps apart (sadly). she’ll just use her own projection to visit you herself (she prefers being there physically but that’ll have to do). kafka never fails to be caught off guard by how upfront you can be sometimes. like damn, i didn’t know you had it in you type shi. you’ll be like “ i-i miss you so come back home safely, i want to cuddle and kiss. . .a-and whatnot. . .and th-things of that nature. “ (awkward way of expressing it but) yup, she’s def coming back as soon as POSSIBLE.

— if you’re a stellaron hunter, she’ll make sure most of the time that’s she’s with you or other people that she trusts like blade and sliver wolf. yes, she knows that you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done but it’s dangerous out there y’know? if for some reason you’re going on a mission by yourself, she sees you off with a good luck kiss that lingers for about a few seconds. kafka expects you to call her when you have the free time. honestly, she doesn’t like texting. she prefers to hear your voice or video call. but if you only have the time to text her, ig that’ll doooo.

“ alright sweets, i suppose i’ll see you off now. “ she drawls with disappointment, a small little frown adorning her beautiful features. you were just about leaving to a mission and of course, kafka has to see you one more time before you go. taking a deep breath, you held her hand and flashed her a big assuring smile. “ i’ll be back soon so don’t you worry kaf. m-maybe a good luck kiss will do? if you don’t mind- “ *fat smooch*

nsfw

— she’s topping but she lets you take control sometimes. though the woman loves to watch you struggle, she finds it so adorable. dw, she’s definitely taking you seriously.

— kafka makes it known that she loves your touch and praises the hell out of you. she’s very vocal woman and will let everyone know how good you’re making her feel.

— she sits on your face but before she does, she asks with that smug smirk of hers if you’re ready to handle her. once sits on your face, she’s practically glued to it until she gets her climax. she’ll make it up to you after. but first, she just wants you to please her with your tongue and cover your face with her juices. kafka adores how breathless you look after with that shy expression on your face.

— when it’s her turn, i see her taking it slow with you unless you want to speed things up. she doesn’t want you to be overwhelmed so she starts off with sweet promises and kisses while slowly undressing you. she’s going to ask before anything if you’re comfortable before proceeding.

— kafka def is tease and is down for quickies before missions. she can’t really help herself when she’s around you, y’know?

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #honkai star rail kafka #honkai kafka

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avanatural · 2 years

Text

I Don’t Mind

Summary: Four different hunts. Four shared motel rooms, four shared bathrooms, four shared beds. And four times that Y/N doesn’t mind getting closer to Dean.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Fluff, comfort, angst

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, stitches, nudity, cursing

A/N: Here’s some Dean fluff sprinkled with comfort and angst. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask! ❤️

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Hunt number 1

Dean exited the bathroom in a pair of boxers and an AC/DC t-shirt, his hair still damp. Waves of steam followed him, curling into the dusty motel room air. “There’s nothin’ like a hot shower after a hunt.”

Y/N looked up from the book in her lap. Her hair was still damp, too, leaving a few wet spots on her tank top and shorts. She’d gotten comfortable on the bed while her hunting partner had taken his turn in the bathroom. “Hm-mh. I’m glad it was just a regular salt-and-burn.”

“Yeah. Same ‘ere.” Dean’s subtle glance dropped to her bare legs for a second. It had been years since he’d shared a motel room with a woman. It was different from what he was used to, but in a good way. Her company was kinda fun. She was easygoing, gorgeous to look at, and he swore she smelled like cotton candy and rainbows. Tearing his gaze away from her soft skin, he cleared his throat, and with a raised eyebrow, gestured toward the bed that Y/N was resting on. “So, uh… Sleeping arrangements?”

They had one bed and one couch. The plan was to go for twin beds, but the Sleepyhead Inn was the only motel in town, and of course, all the other rooms were taken.

Y/N’s eyes went back to her novel. She put the bookmark in place and closed the book while she suggested, “Just join me.”

“You sure?”, he wondered out loud, squinting at his hunting partner.

“You’re never gonna fit on that couch. And my back still hurts, so I don’t want it, either,” she said, placing her novel on the nightstand. She stared back at him when she added, “I think the mattress is big enough for two.”

Dean strolled to the free side of the bed, taking his time, giving her a chance to withdraw her offer. But even as he pulled back the cover, she kept quiet. “You got about…” He tilted his spiky-haired head. “Three seconds to change your mind. ‘Cause once my head hits that pillow, I ain’t moving.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him, lips jerking with a smile, “Besides… I like a good cuddle.”

“Huh. Would you look at that.” He broke into a surprised grin, emerald orbs sparkling playfully as he climbed into bed, “A bloodthirsty hunter, who just fried two ghosts extra crispy, asking for a snuggle.” Dean might have been joking around, but on the inside, he kind of admired her open approach to affection.

If there was one thing that hunters didn’t get to do a lot, it was to share tenderness with someone else. It was too dangerous. Scarier than the monsters that prowled the streets. Proximity and affection could get you attached. And attachment was a curse. Dean had been cursed one too many times throughout his life. Still, he couldn’t deny that Y/N’s lighthearted ways tempted him.

She let her head drop back against the headboard. “Don’t judge me,” she retorted through her slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s a lonely life.”

A layer of melancholy draped itself over Dean’s heart, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “It is, isn’t it?”, he breathed while his back sank into the mattress.

“Yeah,” she sighed and wiggled down the bed, lying down next to her hunting partner.

“So, uh…,” Dean trailed off and lifted his arm. It hung in the air awkwardly as he created space for Y/N against his torso. “You wanna… Or…?” God, he sounded like a fourteen-year-old making his first move at the movies. He had no idea how to initiate cuddling unless it was a follow-up to sex.

She snuck toward him with her sheet. Her body met his, and she curled up against his side. His skin radiated a welcoming heat through his t-shirt, providing a homey sensation.

With slow and careful movements, Dean closed his arm around her. By day, the huntress was so fiery and fierce, but now, by night, she was tame and trusting. In his embrace, she almost felt like a little dove whose wings could easily be broken. “This okay?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, her cheek meeting his shoulder, “Perfect.”

The two of them went against the general hunter code and ate up each other’s warmth. Soft breaths were passed back and forth. After a few minutes of relishing Dean’s clean scent, Y/N asked, “Hey, did you use my body wash?”

“Uh… Yeah.” The hunter used his brother’s stuff on a regular basis, without needing to ask. Old habits died hard, apparently. “Forgot mine. The motel’s body wash smells like a toilet rim block.”

A chuckle left her lips, her rib cage bouncing slightly against his side. “It does!”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I’d much rather my cuddle buddy smells like cotton candy than a lemongrass toilet.”

He laughed along with his new friend, setting fire to Y/N’s heart with those warm, rumbling tunes.

“Do you wanna grab some breakfast in the morning?”, Dean wondered out loud. His breath got stuck in his throat when she suddenly looked up, her eyes peering at him through her lashes. His free hand acted of its own accord and gently brushed some hair away from her forehead. “Like, proper breakfast?”

“I’d love that.” The corners of her mouth jumped up for a second. Then, her nose wrinkled apologetically. “But I gotta leave first thing.”

“Oh.” Dean’s stomach took an insecure little leap. He didn’t want to part ways with Y/N just yet. Attachment was a curse, but she was too great of a spellcaster for him to resist.

“A friend of mine called and told me about another case in Michigan,” she explained, her palm finding his firm chest. “Looks like it’s a shifter. I promised him I’d take it.” Absentmindedly, she let her fingernails scrape across the red letters on his worn-out t-shirt.

“You need backup?”, Dean found himself asking, “Shifters are sneaky sons of bitches.”

A heart-stirring smile appeared on her face, emerging from deep within her soul. “You wanna tag along? Fight another monster with me?”

He shrugged his shoulders with feigned nonchalance, making her body move along with his. “Yeah, why not?”

Hunt number 2

“Y/N, I’m just gonna grab-“ Before Dean could finish his sentence, his voice faded in his throat. He stopped in his tracks abruptly, his feet rooted to the floor. His chest expanded with a huge bashful breath.

He‘d entered the bathroom to get his phone, to slip in and then slip back out just as fast.

Instead, he was met with the sight of Y/N’s oh-so-smooth skin. She’d just stepped out of the shower, fully nude, about to grab her towel. Yes, it had definitely been a while since he’d shared a motel room with a woman.

“Oh, shit, sorry.“ Dean averted his gaze, studying the white tiles on the floor. But the sight of her bare body haunted him, still flashing before his eyes. “I was just gonna get my phone…” With his cell phone raised as evidence, he stepped back, about to leave the bathroom.

The two hunters had arrived in Michigan to hunt the shapeshifter. New hunt, new motel. Y/N’s earlier words still ghosted through Dean’s ears. “One room, please. With a queen.” She’d deliberately booked a motel room with a single bed for them to share. To say that he was thrilled was an understatement.

The muscles in Y/N’s abdomen contracted as she released a melody of hushed laughter. “I don’t mind,” she said, her tone every bit as earnest as it was casual, and wrapped her towel around herself.

Dean took a discreet peek at her body to make sure she was covered, then met her gaze with a questioning glint in his own. “You sure?”

“It’s fine,” she insisted and brushed past him, “I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of naked women.” Mischievously, she glanced at him over her shoulder as she snuck back into their room, about to grab some clothes.

“Well, yeah…” His short nails scraped against his scalp as he followed her out of the bathroom. “But that usually plays out a little different.”

She stopped rummaging through her duffel bag and quirked an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t walk in on them while they’re taking showers?”, she teased.

“I’m not some creep…,” he declared, partly joking, partly defensive, “God, please tell me you don’t think I’m some creep.”

“No, I don’t,” she chuckled, softly shaking her head, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m used to sharing these rooms. Happens all the time. Let’s just get ready to hunt that shapeshifter.”

Dean nodded to himself and repressed the flirty urges that were daring him to compliment her body. “Yes, ma’am,” he quipped, lips pulling back to reveal a grin.

Hunt number 3

"Hey..." Y/N extended her hand across the motel bed, her fingers reaching for Dean's biceps. "You okay?"

He didn't respond. The older Winchester brother was propped up against the headboard, his stare attached to his hands, which were resting in his lap. His arm shrugged itself out of her reach.

She crawled back to her side of the bed, mumbling, "I'm sorry." Her heart thumped against her chest one, two, three times until she finally made a move to get up.

"What are you doing?", Dean inquired, removing his gaze from his hands. His green eyes narrowed, getting used to the lights in the room, slowly breaking free from tunnel vision.

"I'm giving you space." She took her sheet between her fingers and pulled it off the bed. Her feet pattered across the room, headed for the couch, which she was intending to prepare for herself.

"I thought you didn't like sleeping on the couch,” he muttered.

When Y/N looked back at Dean, she found a riddle. An enigma of a man. The muscles in his body were tight. His hands were balled into fists. His jaw was locked, the key to unclench it nowhere in sight. His eyes and lips, however, told a different story. His eyes were enlarged with a tinge of soft worry. His lips were parted by a silent plea.

"It's okay, Dean," she said, "I don't mind."

"You never do,” he grunted out, teeth suddenly gritted.

"What?”

Dean got up from the bed, scoffing, shaking his head. "You don't mind sharing a room. You don’t mind cuddling. Or sharing your body wash. You don't mind if I see you naked.” With each sentence, he took a step closer to her. “You don't mind sleeping on the couch. Tell me, Y/N, what do you mind?" With each passing word, his voice took a step higher on the ladder of tones.

By now, he was close enough that she could see a bluish vein bulge in his forehead, as well as the slight tremble of his chin. “I- Dean, what brought this on?”

"You’re just gonna act normal?”, he demanded, “You don't mind that another victim died? Because of… Because I didn’t-” His rough voice died, losing all its strength. His hand started to reach up to point at his own chest, but it crashed back down, snapping against his leg, defeated.

Y/N’s face fell, the tension escaping from her muscles as she realized what exactly his issue was. “That wasn’t your fault,” she spoke, pained by the raw sorrow he radiated. “You couldn’t have known that there was another wolf.” Her hand met the curve of his t-shirt-clad shoulder. “You did everything you could, Dean.”

A prominent line settled between his shuddering brows. His nostrils flared softly. Tears shimmered in his beautiful eyes. “Then why do I feel so bad?”, he croaked, the noises that spilled from his throat sounding broken.

“Because what you saw back there is beyond most people’s imagination.” She squeezed his shoulder and closed the distance between them. “Even if you’ve been hunting all your life, it doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t get less painful. Especially not with a heart as kind as yours.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Not because he thought she was lying. No, quite the opposite. He knew she truly believed her own words. But he would never be able to agree with her, and that hurt more than anything.

His body startled when he suddenly felt a caring pair of arms around his waist. In return, one of his own arms folded around Y/N. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her body melting effortlessly against his figure.

“You’re a good man, Dean,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. She applied pressure to his back, pushing him against her.

His eyes snapped shut and a single tear escaped his hold, burning down his cheek. His mouth quivered as he circled both his arms around her. Through their embrace, he realized just how much he wanted Y/N by his side. She could always tell what he needed. And she gave it to him unconditionally.

He placed his chin on top of her head and took a deep inhale, breathing in the compassion she was providing. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.”

They held each other for a few more seconds, lost in their very own world. When they broke apart, Dean cleared his throat before speaking up. “I don’t mind. If you… You know, wanna…” He pointed his thumb at the motel bed, blabbering out an incomplete offer that didn’t need much more explaining.

As their heads hit the pillows that night, a strange combination of sadness and comfort drifted through the undusted motel room atmosphere.

While Dean curled into a ball on his side of the bed, Y/N slid forward in the dark, inching closer and closer until her front pressed into his back. Her arm looped around his waist, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

Almost immediately, his palm covered the back of her hand. For once, Dean allowed himself to give away control. He let her hold him all night. He let her presence soothe his aching soul as she slept soundly against his back.

Hunt number four

“Ah, fuck,” Y/N whimpered as she stepped out of her blood-stained pants. She gasped at the pool of blood that seeped from the stab wound in her left thigh. With a troubled grimace, she clawed at one of the chairs in the motel room, steadying herself.

It had been a damn long day for Y/N and Dean. She’d called him for backup on a demon case. The black-eyed bastard had possessed innocent people, ruined their lives, and even taken a few.

“How’s it look?”, Dean asked, hurrying back and forth across their room, grabbing different supplies to stitch up Y/N. His breathing was labored, torso moving fast with concern.

“Peachy,” she hissed through bared teeth.

As he passed her, he caught a glimpse of her wound. Truth be told, it was messy. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Her entire upper leg was smeared with blood.

Dean put down a towel and spread the supplies across their mattress. “Come on, sweetheart.” Sneaking his arm around her waist, he escorted her to the bed.

With his support, she hobbled forward and sat down on the towel. Her leg was stinging with sharp waves of agony.

Dean sat down on his knees in front of his hunting partner. He took the warm washcloth he’d prepared and started wiping it along her unscathed skin, taking away the blood stains surrounding her wound.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered. She felt dizzy. The washcloth left a warm sensation on her skin, but it did little to soothe the harsh pinches that were shooting through her leg.

Dean’s hand, hardened from years of hunting, gently held the back of her knee. “You know, my little brother,” he told her, focused on her thigh as he cleaned it, “He’s a pro at this. He could stitch you up in no time.”

She gulped down the lump in her dry throat, making way to express her gratitude for his presence. “I think I’m in good hands.” There was no other person whom she trusted as much as Dean to take care of her.

His gaze hiked up her face. The corners of his mouth rose in a tight-lipped smile. Y/N was covered in blood, sweat, and exhaustion, and yet, she still radiated hope and trust. She still shone bright. “What did the janitor say when he jumped outta the closet?”, Dean suddenly inquired.

“Wha-“ Before she could finish her question, he pressed the alcohol wipe to her wound. She groaned out a bunch of profanities.

“Supplies!”, the kneeling hunter called out, finishing his bad joke.

Y/N’s groan turned into an amused chortle. Her scowl broke into an annoyed little grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Ha-ha, I know. Don’t you worry, I got enough stupid jokes to get you through this.”

“Oh, thank God,” she taunted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Secretly, though, she didn’t want him to stop lifting her spirits.

Once her wound was cleaned, Dean reached for the needle he’d prepared. “Alright, next step his is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Every muscle and bone in Dean’s body told him not to continue. Causing Y/N pain went against his very nature. He knew he was going to feel every pinch and every slide of the needle just as much as she would. But it had to be done.

He took a deep breath, one that Y/N subconsciously copied, and went on, “What did Blackbeard say when he turned 80?”

“I don’t know, what?” As she was speaking, he planted the first stitch, pushing the needle through her skin. She closed her eyes and pushed her teeth together.

“Aye, mayte,” Dean imitated what he thought to be a pirate’s voice. Instead, he sounded like a combination of an old grandpa and a demon being exorcised.

She snorted through her suffering. With every stitch, every push of the needle, the joking hunter coaxed another chortle, snort or laugh from her. He was her distraction. Her anchor. He was everything she could have asked for.

“Alright, last one,” he announced finally, yearning to be done with the stitches. His bloodied fingers trembled slightly. Honestly, his knowledge of flat jokes did not just serve to comfort the ones he had to stitch up. It was a coping mechanism he’d developed primarily for himself. To keep himself calm when his loved ones got hurt. ”How do you make holy water?”

“I know how,” she murmured, “But I’m pretty sure that’s not the answer to your joke.”

For the last time, Dean pushed the needle through Y/N’s tender skin. His heart clenched at the throaty wince that she released. “You boil the hell out of it,” he revealed, eager to lift some weight from her shoulders.

And for the last time, Y/N was guided through the pain by his humor. Her voice was weak, but the chuckle that spilled from her throat was clearly audible.

“There you go. Good job, sweetheart.” Dean lifted his head to smile warmly at his hunting partner. Then he grabbed the scissors and cut the thread, relieved to jump past the finish line of his gruesome task. “All done.”

“Thank you.” Placing her pointer and middle finger under his chin, she tipped up his head to make him look up at her again. “Really,” she added, her Y/E/C eyes threatening to suck him in. She’d called him for backup on this hunt. And Dean had driven for hours to meet up with her, when he could easily have sent someone else.

“We’re partners,” he declared, honest jade-colored orbs staring up at her, “I’d never leave you hanging, you know that.”

She flashed her teeth at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Right back at you, Winchester.”

Spurred on by the bubbly feeling in his chest, Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out, and so he shut it again. Instead of speaking, the two of them opted for exchanging a smile with each other.

When Dean sat up, about to grab the bandages that were scattered across the bed, Y/N took the initiative.

“It’s okay, I got it from here,” she said, turning her upper body to get the bandages instead. She didn’t like leaving the entire responsibility to others, even if they were kind enough to offer.

“Y/N, Iet me finish-“ he began to protest.

When he leaned forward, she suddenly turned to face him again, prompting their mouths to bump into each other. Two sets of lips grazed each other clumsily, tempted yet refusing to pucker – a sweet accident.

Dean pulled back, instinctively giving her some space. She glanced down at her thigh, dragging her lower lip through her teeth.

“Sorry,” he apologized. The softness of her lips still danced across his mouth, poking his plump flesh with delicious tingles.

“I don’t mind,” she repeated her signature line, the smile reaching her eyes despite the dull ache that was still vibrating through her leg.

For a split second, Dean’s eyebrows wrinkled. Then, reassured by Y/N’s beaming face, his cheeks dimpled with a grin of his own. His hand settled on her unharmed leg and gave a squeeze.

The pads of her fingers reached out to trail along the side of his jaw. She got distracted by his boyish smirk. By his plump parted lips. By the faint freckles that lined them. By his pearly white teeth. “I, uh…” Her voice dropped. Her common sense had long since left the building when she confessed, “Fuck, I think I’m catching feelings.”

“I don’t mind.”

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to wrinkle her brows. “You don’t?” Her confession had been more of a warning. More of a ‘you might want to stay away from me.’ She expected Dean to shy away. But when he didn’t, her heart both dropped and blossomed simultaneously.

“No.” Dean’s irises bounced from side to side, observing her reaction, hoping he was doing this whole thing right. “‘Cause I’m catching feelings, too.”

Y/N glanced Dean’s hand on her good leg. There were some cuts and bumps on the back from fighting off the demon. His palm sent a surge of comfort through her body. “Damn, this shit it nerve-wrecking,” she blurted, speaking out exactly what he was feeling. Romantic feelings were everything but a hunter’s average small talk topic.

“Yeah,” he laughed shakily, shortly blinking at the floor, “Tell me about it. So-“ Before he could say any more, he felt a pair of soft lips on his mouth and a warm palm on either side of his jaw. A low hum rumbled through his throat. He tilted his head to gently rub his mouth against Y/N’s.

Their kiss was short but sugared with sweet affection. It scratched an itch that had been building up for weeks. The two hunters broke apart with a quiet smacking sound and bashful little smirks on their mouths. “Awesome,” they whispered simultaneously against each other’s faces.

Dean pressed another lasting kiss to Y/N’s alluring lips. Then, while his fidgety fingers retrieved the bandages, he simply asked, “Pizza or burgers?”

“What? Ohh, I get it.” She held still as her hunting partner lifted the back of her knee to wrap up her wound. “No chick-flick moments, huh?”

The Winchester bobbed his head up and down, showing his agreement. “Pick your poison,” he said while he carefully looped the bandage around her thigh, “I need to get you more painkillers. Might as well get some food.”

“Burgers,” Y/N decided, head spinning due to blood loss and rushes of dopamine, “And when you get back, I think we should choose our next destination.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, the corner of his mouth curving upward at the prospect of another shared hunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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