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springnote · 1 year

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Eat You Up

Vash the Stampede x gn!reader (nsfw)

warnings: nsfw minors dni oral sex (m receiving), brief overstim, alien (plant) biology, praise kink

Note: this was just supposed to be a little fic abt how I imagine what Vash’s “stuff” is like but I got carried away. Shoutout to @pinkanonwrites’s work if you enjoy smut abt Vash being a needy little plant

“Wait don’t do that please—”

“Huh?” You gasped as you blinked in confusion at the man in front of you. “Vash?”

The spiky-haired blonde was looking anywhere but at your face, his cheeks and ears red as he gently pushed you off his chest. Your brow furrowed at him, trying to figure out what exactly went wrong. One moment you were gently kissing him on his nose and cheeks and he reciprocated with soft press of his lips on yours, yes it escalated from there to wet kisses, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for couples to do.

Vash could be a pretty jumpy guy at times, he’d yelp when you gave a playful smack on his arm, or sniffle dramatically when you’d tell him “no” when he’d try to take your slice of cake, but seeing him genuinely distressed was concerning. You hadn’t been dating long, but you were one of his best friends, and you knew he’d been through some…rough times, so you understood he could get upset at times, and rightfully so, but never from displays of affection.

“What’s wrong?” You asked again, petting the back of his head soothingly as his gaze flickered around. “Do I smell bad or something?”

“No! You smell amazing!” He blurted out, smiling sheepishly before continuing. “It’s not you…it’s me? Heh, that’s a cliche I guess huh?”

“Okay, let’s talk about it.” You said carefully as you sat him down on the couch. “What made you uncomfortable?”

“I…” he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, cheeks turning pink again. “Well we were kissing, which I love! But then it got more intense yknow and you moved your hand…lower. And I just can’t let you.”

You stared at him in confusion again, you’d almost forgot you’d moved your hand down there amidst your frenzied kissing, but it was kind of hard to forget the bulge you’d felt down there. Now your mind was more concerned with if you’d overstepped his boundaries.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You apologized, but he only shook his head.

“No no, it was nice, but I don’t deserve it,” he sighed, a slight tremble on his lips. “I don’t deserve to be touched like that by you.”

“Vash, why would you say that?” You frowned, your heart aching for him.

“I’m not the great guy you think I am…” he sighed.

“You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known,” you refuted him. “Baby, I know there’s things you feel guilty over, but you know I adore you.”

He gave a weak smile and a mumbled thanks in reply, but something still didn’t feel right.

“It’s something else isn’t it?” You questioned gently, rubbing your thumb over his hand as his face turned pink.

“Shucks,” he sighed. “Well you see I’m…I’m different down there.”

Your brain tried to catch up to that comment, but your mouth was already responding. “Baby, you know I’d love you no matter how you look.”

“But I’m serious! You know I’m not…human.”

You gave a gentle smile as you leaned closer, clasping his hands as you spoke again. “Vash, you’re always there for me, let me return the favor please? If it feels uncomfortable or anything you can ask me to stop, I just want to show you how much I care about you.”

There was a pause as he tried to look anywhere but in your eyes, but he couldn’t hold out too long before his baby blues met your expectant gaze. He shivered slightly, but he didn’t draw away, letting you scoot a bit closer to wrap your arms around his neck. You moved slowly so you didn’t possibly scare him, and after another pause, he finally spoke.

“Please…you can stop if I’m too weird or anything down there, but…I do want you. Pretty please.”

Heat went through your spine at his sweet pleas, your lips meeting in a soft kiss as you helped him slip off his jacket. As you licked at his lips to deepen the kiss, you felt him lifting the hem of your own shirt, but you stopped him gently as you wrapped your hands around his wrist. He let out a displeased whine as you moved back, looking like a sad puppy, but you quickly reassured him.

“This is about you baby,” you smiled, leaning him back against the blankets. “Take your shirt and pants off for me okay?”

He nodded fast enough his hair flopped around his forehead, making you giggle as you watched him shyly remove his clothes. His ears were a deep red as he exposed his scarred chest, looking away as his prosthetic limbs were also put in full view. Before he could cover up or get spooked, you placed your palms on his chest, smiling at him.

“You’re so beautifu,” you sighed out, placing a gentle kiss to his throat before moving down, noting what made him gasp and whine.

“But I’m—” he started to speak before a whine slipped from his throat.

“No baby, all these,” you gently ran your hand down his scars. “They’re proof of how selfless and brave you are. All of these are from you protecting innocent people, they reflect your inner beauty.”

One of your hands went to massage down his arm, admiring how his robotic legs shook gently from anticipation as you caressed him. “Every part of you is gorgeous and perfect, I only wish someone had told you sooner.” You placed a gentle kiss to the knuckles of his prosthetic hand, a sharp whine making you look up at him through your lashes.

“Babe…” his lip trembled again, he looked like he was about to cry, and you gave a few feather light kisses to his tummy to distract him.

“You’re doing so good,” you reassured him again, hooking a finger in the band of his tented boxers. “May I take these off?”

He nodded weakly, croaking out a “yes” before moving his arm over his eyes, embarrassment coloring his face again.

Eagerly, you helped him lift his hips so you could slide them down his legs. You tried not to look at him until you dropped the boxers to the side, turning back with anticipation before a gasp left your lips. Vash dared to peek down at you, only to see the way your eyes widened as you stared down at him.

He was right about being “different” down there, but it most certainly wasn’t bad. Instead of a usual dick, what looked bit like a tentacle stood up, flushed a soft blue with glowing lines as it curled against his abdomen. The head was slightly shaped like the head of a mushroom, a light purple color that matched the swollen balls underneath his member. A small nub that resembled a flower bud appeared to be tucked above the tentacle as well, almost seeming to peek out more the longer you stared.

“Babe..?” He questioned as he breathed heavily, nervousness flashing in his eyes. He almost seemed like he was about to cover himself, but your hands went to his thighs to push them apart, making him gasp as you stared even more intently.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, mesmerized as you took him in. “Vash you’re breathtaking.”

Vash let out another weak whimper as he gave you a wobbly smile, happily accepting a quick peck on the lips before you crawled back down his body. The tentacle between his legs pulsed at your attentive gaze, small beads of a glowing precum oozing from all sides when you reached your hand for it. You tilted your head curiously, eager to touch him but not wanting to just jump in.

“Let me know if anything doesn’t feel good okay?” You said, waiting for him to give a small nod before reaching out again.

As soon as you delicately wrapped your fingers around his tentacle, he sucked in a sharp breathe, his hips bucking up slightly. Trailing your hand up slowly, you felt the precum moisten your hand, licking your lips as you neared the tip. Vash let out a choked moan as you rubbed your thumb on the head, smearing more precum across it as more seemed to ooze out, making Vash’s hips stutter.

You have a few more gentle pumps of his length before leaning closer to plant a kiss on the underside, your other hand drifting down to carefully cup his balls. Vash’s face was turning redder as he gripped the sheets to keep from bucking into your touch, his breath hitching when you gave a small squeeze to his sack as you trailed kisses up his dick.

“You’re so handsome Vash,” you purred before placing a kiss right on his tip. “I bet you taste amazing too.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you never found out what he was going to say before he let out a yelp when you gave a light suck to the head of his cock. The large head felt like it got bigger in your mouth as you wrapped your lips around it, a sweet but tangy taste filling your mouth as you swallowed around him. Vash gripped the sheets under him in fistfuls, biting on the back of his hand as you continued swallowing more of him down.

“F-fuck (y/n)!” He moaned above you, accidentally jerking up into the warmth of your mouth. “More! Please?”

Your heart fluttered at him asking for more, indulging him as you bobbed your head a bit more, carefully breathing through your nose as you got closer to the base. More precum leaked out of him when your lips finally touched the soft skin at the base, making him moan again when he looked down to see you hollowing your cheeks to swallow around him.

You set a nice rhythm of moving your head up and down his cock, pushing your elbows out to the sides to keep his trembling thighs spread wide. One of your hands trailed down to cup his balls softly, your other stroking his hip whenever a whimper sounded above you. “That’s it sweetheart,” you cooed as you let your lips off his member with an obscene pop. “You still doing good?”

“Yes!” He yelled out, his eyes a little glassy when he looked down at you, sweat on forehead as he panted. “M-more please starlight. Please angel please.”

The small nub above his cock caught your attention again, appearing to peek out more as Vash got more blissed out. Feeling a little curious, your hand on his hip danced over to the small bud, lightly touching it with the pad of your thumb to gauge his reaction. When he let out another high-pitched whine, you gave in to your curiosity more and carefully massaged it between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Fuck!” He yelped, his hips bucking up violently as he arched off the bed. You jumped a bit at his reaction, worried he was in pain, but when you noticed the pout on his splotchy face you gave another gentle squeeze. “Fuck! (y/n) do that again…”

You couldn’t help smiling mischievously as you went back down on his cock, licking the underside again as you pinched and rolled his bud between your fingers. Vash’s skin from his chest to his face was red and splotchy, sweat glistening on him as he white-knuckled the blankets under him. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth when you took him all the way to the base again, stroking the skin between his tentacle and balls gently.

“I-I’m close I think!” He choked out.

You didn’t say a word in response, refusing to move your mouth off his pulsing cock as you gave his swollen bud another squeeze until you felt a strange sensation in your mouth.

With a loud moan, Vash’s hips stuttered violently as he came down your throat, cum gushing out of the tip and sides of his cock as it softened in your mouth. You let out a low moan as you tasted the tangy, warm juices, the large head of his dick weighing on your tongue. The sensation distracted you momentarily, and you didn’t realize your fingers were still massaging his bud until he whined obscenely at the overstimulation.

Pressing one last kiss to the his tip, you pulled off Vash and slowly crawled up to cuddle him, but stopped when you noticed the tears on his cheeks. “Oh no, oh my god I’m sorry are you okay baby?” You gasped as you reached your thumb up to wipe them away.

“Yeah,” he croaked, a dopey smile on his face as he cupped your hand in his. “Sorry that was just…wow. You’re amazing babe.”

You giggled as you observed how thoroughly blissed out he was. “Im glad you enjoyed that baby,” you smiled back at him, brushing his hair off his forehead. “You’re so beautiful, I loved every minute of it.”

He giggled a little in response, cheeks still dusted a dark pink as he snuggled his face into your chest. “I love yoooou.”

“I love you too Vash.” You chuckled again, kissing his forehead before you wiggled out of his hold.

“Hey wait!” He yelped as he pulled you back, sending you atop his chest. “Where ya goin’?”

“I was gonna get a washcloth and clean you up.” You blushed, noticing how his strong arms were gripping your ass tight.

“Nuh-uh,” he grinned, suddenly rolling over to pin you to the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

His lips pressed into yours hungrily, your tongues melting together as he pressed you into the mattress. You let out a small whine when his lips left yours, watching him shuffle backwards to grip your hips and sling your legs over his shoulders.

“Time to return the favor.”

#trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun smut #vash smut

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doctorbunny · 4 months

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MILGRAM THEORY: The Girl in the Weakness Drawings

So in Haruka's first song Weakness, we see a variety of crayon drawings he made. Most are characters we already know:

Haruka and his (two faced) mother

Godzilla (no copyright infringement intended)

Snakes and butterflies under a big tree [I have no proof of this but it always invoked the idea of the garden of Eden in me] which also makes an appearance in Undercover on the drawing pad

But there's always been one uncertainty:

Who is this drawing depicting?

This was a heavy point of discussion back in T1 and this post by @mrgoodenough254 suddenly reminded me of the discussion

The conclusion I came to back then is that it must be Haruka, after all he's standing in front of it. It could represent how he views himself now he's older and no longer recieving the attention of his mother. A self loathing monster~

Of course, this wasn't the only explanation, some thought it could be his still unseen father or something else entirely... But having gone back for a second look, I have a good guess

The girl (who might be Haruka's sister but we don't 100% know yet, either way the one he strangles)

First: look at the hair At first I thought it was just messy like Haruka's But the part that would be Haruka's fringe trails lower, and appears to be tied into a green bow. More like a clumsy attempt at drawing how the girl's hair leads into a plait

Second: The colour of the eyes Haruka's eyes are a blue-green. But the drawing has glowing purple eyes Now, we haven't seen the girl's eyes yet. But we do know someone who has a similar colour of purple hair to her. And she has purple-pink eyes

So we can guess this is the girl's eye colour.

Third: the "mermaid's tail" The drawing doesn't specifically have legs, which is part of why I thought it looked like a monster or mermaid

It looks jagged at the bottom and there's a bunch of lines running through it However, whilst in weakness the girl is wearing a nice dress, we know she died in a middle school sailor uniform, which often have longer skirts

(you can tell because of the sailor collar, also look! her plait falls on the same side as the hair in the drawing, this will be important in a second-) This means the lines could represent the skirt folds

Final note: How the girl is drawn The first and most obvious thing to say is how she was drawn to look like a monster, what with her glowy eyes and spiky teeth And this is a common, if childish way siblings who don't get along may depict each other You don't like your brother? Draw him as a big ugly monster!!!

But I think the more interesting thing is everything else: Part of why I thought this was a drawing of Haruka for so long is because behind the hair is blue scribbling, which I figured was just part of the hair However, in weakness we see something else coloured blue

Blood (We know Haruka killed her via strangulation but its possible when she fell back she hit her head on something? Or Haruka just associates death with bleeding) The drawing also shows the arms bent at odd, stiff angles And the neck is long and crooked The 'skirt' is also ripped and covered in something green (grass stains??)

This may not just be a drawing of Haruka's sister But one depicting her death

(artist's rendition)

#haruka sakurai #milgram #ミルグラム #milgram theory

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alfredosauce50 · 1 year

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Coming up in 2nd place is our very own Mathias! Requests are closed, but it’s about time I gave him some more headcanons. Once again, writing him is gonna be an absolute piece of cake because he’s one of my best characters, if not the best.

Without further ado, let’s hop right into it!

Content warning: Very brief NSFW.

Denmark headcanons

As the resident golden retriever, Mathias is always bounding with energy. He loves to have fun, and is up for just about anything. But under his kind and unassuming nature is something quite untamable.

Appearance

Mathias looks exactly how he sounds. He has spiky blonde hair that sticks up in the front and around his head. He also has some sideburns going on. It’s a bit wild and unruly, but he’ll just tell you it’s indicative of his personality! From a distance, he might even look like a pineapple.

Being in his early to mid-twenties, he has rather sharp features. You could even say Mathias looks mature, but it’s hard to tell with all the different expressions he makes. You’ll have to catch him reading, focusing on a movie, or building a hard Lego set to see his neutral face. It only lasts so long before it changes to something else entirely.

He’s very pale. It’s only his cheeks and nose that are a little pink from rosacea. Mathias also turns really red after physical exertion or sunburn. He needs to slap on a heap of sunscreen or he’s else not gonna survive. In regards to height, he’s well over six-feet. If you told him he was tall, he’ll just laugh and say, “you should see everyone else back home. You’d be surprised!” The average height of Danish males is 5’11” (181 cm), so you best bet there’s lots of guys even taller than him.

Mathias is huge. On top of his height, he works out a lot, so he has pretty big muscles. What he doesn’t like as much is cardio, so he has a bit of fat. It doesn’t make him look any less fit, only more on the bulky side. He prefers it, actually.

(Here’s a drawing of him I did)

Personality

He’s an extrovert that thrives off attention. If he doesn’t get it, he dies like a house plant in bad soil. It’s not validation he’s looking for; it’s the company. Mathias is the happiest when he’s around friends. He’s super outgoing, optimistic, and loves doing things with people around him. Not only is it lively, he feels more supported that way. On the flip side, he will get quite lonely if he doesn’t have anybody to hang out with.

The closest he gets to alone time is parallel play. If he’s winding down, he would like someone to sit with him. He’s the type to need a study buddy so he can be held accountable, and so he doesn’t get bored. He focuses much better, even.

Mathias is very loud. You can hear him coming, going, and when he talks, his voice overpowers everything else. Sometimes, it feels like he’s just shouting whenever he opens his mouth. If you tell him to be quiet, he will, but forgets and goes back to normal ten minutes later. So in places like shop, parks, or restaurants where it’s not an immediate rule to speak with inside voices, you’ll have to get creative. Try whispering at him so he can copy you. “Why are we whispering?”

He’s sweet, but really dense. Rest assured, you won’t find him in any of those horror stories of guys being ignorant, inconsiderate or unhelpful. Mathias is too kind for that. He would go out of his way to help anybody, and without expecting anything in return. If you had a hard day, he will suggest to do something together to cheer you up. “Let’s go grab dinner and dessert. My treat!”

He’s just oblivious. He won’t understand the very obvious implications in front of him, but it’s a part of his unassuming nature to not get ahead of himself. As a result, he’s immune to awkward and intimate situations. Long silences, deep stares, and being alone in private places. Mathias won’t react and carry on like normal. If someone flirted with him, he’d think they were just ‘being nice.’ He wouldn’t even realize they liked him if they said it to his face. “Aw, I like you too!”

He gets distracted easily. If it’s not something he can do lickety-split, he tends to wander off to do other things. Mathias might start folding the clothes, get hungry halfway, then cook and eat. After that, he’ll work out, shower, and power nap. Then when he wakes ups, he’ll wonder why the clothes aren’t folded! As you can see, he’s a little forgetful, so a reminder would do. “Oh, yeahhh.”

Mathias never gets angry. He has a very good temper, and so much that it’s calming for those who don’t. But if he does lose it, there’s usually a good reason. That makes his anger really scary, especially when he falls dead silent. That, or he says some pretty hurtful things, so it’s no wonder why he stays quiet for the most part. With his patience, it takes a lot to push him to that point, but don’t take him for granted. He can take back his kindness as readily as he can give it.

He’s not what you would call ‘protective.’ For one-time situations, Mathias sits watch in the back. He trusts you to handle things on your own, and if you can’t, he’s already next to you. He’ll calmly tell someone to leave you alone, or take over how he sees fit. Acting ‘macho’ and making a scene couldn’t be further from who he is. What he might do is put on the most neutral poker face, hug you, then stare long and hard at the person for a reaction. Indifference is the biggest insult you can pay someone. You’d be surprised at what else he’s capable of, or knows.

Interests

Mathias is a true Lego fan. He grew up playing with it, and never grew out of it. The sets he buys just got more complicated. If he doesn’t have one to build, he’ll just make something up. And you bet he has merch! Keychains, shirts, stickers, etc. He’s also gone as Lego characters for Halloween. Batman? Psh. Lego Batman? You have his attention. Himself as Lego? Even better.

He’s a gamer. Mathias plays a lot of Minecraft, and gets pretty creative with his builds. What can he say, he already likes building blocks in real life! If you play it with him, he’ll make a cute house and farm with you. To top it off, he’ll add a little Danish flag. He’s also the type to customize his characters to look just like him, and use plain old ‘Mathias’ for his usernames. Just imagine him as a Minecraft character spamming the crouch command when he’s trying to get your attention (or as a declaration of peace in survival mode).

He loves EDM, and in particular, house music. It’s hyper, feel-good, and sentimental all at once. Mathias would kill to attend all the big festivals like Tomorrowland and Electric Daisy Carnival. (Only he can’t get tickets before they sell out!) He wants to experience the energy of partying with thousands of other people. The lights, the crazy sets, the bass that he can feel. If you go with him, he’ll carry you on his shoulders and dance under you. Mathias is actually the biggest party animal, but manages to be responsible!

Mathias is an avid traveler. He would practically go anywhere that lets in visitors. Bali for beaches and wrestling with Komodo dragons, Cairo to see the Pyramids and ancient ruins, and Kyoto for the temples and shrines. He does well just about anywhere, and would most likely return with gifts from locals he befriended. It also doesn’t matter what hotel he stays in, or if he stays in one at all. He can go backpacking. So long as the itinerary is packed and the food is amazing, he’s all set!

He’s a gym bro. He works out five times a week, and never skips leg day. Mathias is really strong. He squats pretty heavy, and can bench four plates. What he can’t do as well, is cardio. Allen beats him by a landslide in this department. Mathias isn’t nearly as consistent and might prefer doing it at home (if you know what I mean)

Aside from being college student, he’d either be a boxer, firefighter, or marine biologist. Mathias would be a southpaw with a mean left hook, and his build lets him absorb a lot of punches. As for the fire department, he has the selflessness and physical capabilities to rescue or carry people to safety. And last, but not least, he’s always been fascinated with the sea and the creatures that live in it. He’s not afraid of going to cold places like the Antarctic, and he sure as hell isn’t afraid of the idea of ‘unstable employment.’

Psychology + romance

If you breathe right in his direction, he’d already consider you his friend. Mathias is that open and warm of a person. But that’s the same reason why romance with him is so difficult. He’s quick to smile, laugh, and unleash hugs for anybody. Not just you. So the question is, does he actually like you, or is he just affectionate with everyone?

Everything begins with a good friendship. Maybe you’re an indifferent classmate that happened to sit near him. And he isn’t a straight-A student. He falls behind from time to time, has difficulty understanding material, and can be poor at juggling tasks. But he really tries! Mathias asks a lot of questions, ‘stupid’ ones included, and you’ll inevitably find yourself helping him out of pity. “Psst. Did you get to copy down that last slide?”

He seems like a nice guy, and you’d hate to see him fail. You agree to meet up with him to do work together, but it usually turns into an unpaid tutoring session. You’ll need to be very patient with him. He’s not book smart. Your only saving grace is how earnest he is about his studies.

“Look closely, okay?” You instruct.

“Okay.” He stares intensely at your face, and you only get to explain for a few seconds before stopping.

“Not me. The diagram!”

The ball gets rolling when Mathias invites you out. That’s when you start appreciating him as a person, and not just a classmate who’s copying your homework! He’s fun, bubbly, and easy to talk to. You won’t be afraid of asking him for things, and get accommodated with his touchy nature. In fact, you’ll have a hard time not hugging him when he’s smiling at you like that.

On the other hand, you can be perfectly stern with him too. After many *frustrating* hours of tutoring him, you feel perfectly comfortable telling him off when he needs it. Mathias isn’t a masochist at all, but he finds that insanely attractive. It just means you care about him. Because even if he does stupid things, you still stick around. But what gets him to fall hard is when you defend him for the first time.

Mathias is so unselfish, his kindness gets taken advantage of. And he’s usually too oblivious to see it. He’s sometimes buying food for ‘friends’ that never pay him back. And when he’s in group activities, he’s always the spokesperson even when he doesn’t understand the material. Either that, or he promises to help them with their load of the work. When you find out, you’re furious.

“Can’t you see they’re using you?”

“But I don’t mind doing these things,” Mathias says, frowning a little. “It’s just how I’ve always been.”

“I know. But I’m starting to think you don’t have a selfish bone in your body--and not even for yourself. You’ll lose out on things that matter to you because you’re so busy doing everything for everyone else.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that busy.”

“You can barely keep up with class, Mat. And you don’t even have time for your hobbies anymore.”

He falls silent, unable to argue with that.

“You may not be selfish, but other people are.” You murmur faintly, face contorting as you continue. “And it makes me sad. I hate the way they treat you.”

Mathias starts following you around like a puppy. Wherever you go, he follows. He’s affectionate by nature too, but picks up more and more habits. Since when was he always holding your hand? Kissing your head? When he hugs you from behind, he fits perfectly around you like your favorite sweater. You might brush it off as his personality, especially when he’s so huggy with other friends. Funnily enough, you end up being the dense one. You’re in denial out of respect, but to be fair, it’s not like he’s said anything.

“Your hand is really hot, Mat.”

“Okay. Let’s go inside where the air-con is.”

His number one love language is physical touch. So it’s no wonder he gets upset that you don’t react to it at all. You’re not responding to his efforts at connecting with you, and it leads him to believe you’re not all that interested. Mathias has the communication skills of an egg, and is too shy to say it outright that he likes you--which is interesting because he can touch you like he does. That’s partially because you don’t make a fuss about it, so his cover isn’t ever blown.

The slow-burn is a hot one. He’s sad about being rejected (despite not having asked you out yet) but he just can’t resist you. Mathias is always staring at you like he wants something. He’s an open-book, and ends up having it written all over his face. Dazed looks, pouts, any kind of expression you’d make when you want more. And if you ask what’s wrong, he’ll just hug you and say, “nothing. I just missed you today.”

His breaking point is simple. You let your guard down. It’s inevitable with someone like Mathias, whose kind and unassuming nature makes him practically harmless. Right? Wrong. You’re at his place, wearing his shirt, and getting ready for bed after spending the day with him. He just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing nothing but boxers. And he’s just standing there, menacingly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

His gaze on you is too hot for you to stomach.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, he comes over and gets so close, he’s pressing up against you. His arms are around your waist, and he tilts his head to hover his lips over yours. Then, he just stops, almost like he’s letting everything sink in.

All those dazed stares, forehead kisses, hugs, and squeezes. Mathias has always liked you.

When it finally hits you, his mouth is on yours.

Dating doesn’t come after friendship. Sex does. Mathias fucks you all night, and really hard to dispel all the sexual tension that’s built up for months. By the time you wake up, you have a new boyfriend and an uncontrollable shaking in your legs. But that’s not all. Whoever that’s sleeping next to you is barely like the golden retriever you first met. Not anymore.

Just when you thought he couldn’t be selfish, he becomes the most selfish person in the world. The only redeeming factor is that it’s only when it comes to you. Mathias will be crazy stubborn then. When he wants something from you, he won’t stop until he gets his way. And when he argues for it, he masks his persistence by asking a lot of questions. “Why?” He asks. “Why not?”

He gives intensely, and takes intensely. Mathias may be a kind and reliable partner, but he’s very demanding when it comes to anything sexual. It’s how he processes affection, and he’s a needy person. Even if he won’t goad you into anything, he’ll get pouty and feel neglected if you don’t respond to him. Sex is central to the relationship, so expect to be ravished into oblivion.

He’s smarter than he looks. He knows more than he lets on, and may pretend to be dense when he doesn’t want something. Once again, the endless cycle of “why” will start and get pretty tiring. Don’t cross him. You won’t be able to because of how he feels for you, but other people could. And Mathias can be frightening when he wants to be.

He tries to be nurturing, but ends up suffocating. Mathias would do anything for his partner, that’s for sure. But he might cross boundaries under the assumption he’s helping you. That, or he asks too much from you. Love, time, sex. You’ll never feel unwanted, but sometimes, you just need the space. It’s gonna be a long learning curb, you’ll go in circles with him again and again, or might not end up anywhere at all, but it’s always his adoring smile that gets you running right back.

There’s no winning with Mathias, and it’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s crazy about you. His love is passionate and even a little obsessive. Everything he does is for you and him. His life with you, and his future too. The sooner you realize that, the more leverage he’ll have over you. You’ll never escape him, and he’ll chase you to the ends of the Earth if he has to.

#our favorite pineapple head.#he is what he eats!#op what the fuck is ‘communication skills of an egg’#source: I made it up #eggs don’t tell you they’ve rolled off the edge and cracked until you find them #Mathias Densen #hetalia headcanons #aph denmark #hws Denmark #hetalia #headcanon #alfredosauce50 #update #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfic

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fractiflos · 7 months

Text

Okay, for months I have had so many fic ideas revolving around the first three holders, I've decided to put them all down here for the Three Weeks of Trioholders Event hosted by @aimportantdragoncollector, to help inspire others. Feel free to use these for the event or any future fics (or drawings), since I don't think I'll have time to write them (and I didn't want to overwhelm the ask game lol).

Cheerleader bet: The first 3 holders make a bet; losers have to wear a female cheerleader outfit. I like the idea of Yoichi winning, so he gets to see Second and Third in cheer skirts waving pompoms, but this is your fic (or art)

An AU where Yoichi works as a nurse and Second lands himself in the hospital with a gunshot wound

The 2nd and 3rd are scientific rivals forced to work together by the government to oversee the creation of an important new technology

Ichinii kindergarten AU: Second and Third love pretending to be knights and rescuing people, but Second hates having to rescue princesses because "She's not pretty enough to be a princess" until one day, Yoichi Shigaraki transfers to their school and volunteers to let them rescue him, but wants to pretend to be a princess, much to the amusement of the other boys. Oddly enough, Second has no complaints about this princess.

Deku and Bakugou's uncles both come on the same day to pick them up from preschool, bump into each other, and would you look at that Second, love at first sight is real after all. Meanwhile, Yoichi just thinks of him as a friend at first.

Deku and Todoroki are studying together, when his Uncle Yoichi walks in, with his two best friends, Second and Third, along with his cousin Hikage. Naturally, Todoroki sees the green eyes and pale hair, and immediately thinks that Hikage is Yoichi's secret lovechild. All that's left to do is figure out who's the father, Second or Third? Meanwhile, AFO catches wind that Yoichi has a secret lovechild, and assumes that the father must be All Might. (I left a lot of details out, but it's fun to see what people fill in. I submitted this as an ask, but I was super tired, so it ended up being barebones and I hated it, so I'm rewriting it here)

A modern AU where AFO has been secretly scaring off all of Yoichi's boyfriends. It's actually pretty easy as even without his quirk, he's still terrifying. Then one day, Yoichi brings a certain spiky-haired man home, and not only does he look like the rebel bad boy from every father's nightmare (very different from the previous nerdy cowards Yoichi's dated before), but none of his previous tricks can drive him off.

Genderbend! I guess this is more geared for art, but hey, who's to say our first three holders aren't unlucky enough to be hit with a genderbend quirk while out on patrol

Angel and Devil! Yoichi is an angel, the brother of the Big Guy himself (Yep, AFO gets to be God). Tired of the rules of heaven, he sneaks into hell, where he meets a pair of very interesting (read: hot) demons.

OR REVERSE: Angels, Second and Third are tired of following the overly strict rules of heaven and sneak into hell, which is ruled by Demon King All For One. There, they meet a rather attractive white-haired demon...

After a terrible incident with some hair dye, and a friend who is now on very thin ice, Second's pink hair has now been turned into a really ugly shade of orange, and he has a date in less than 48 hours (I refuse to get over his hair color)

College AU: Second and Third have been friends since they were in diapers, and are now getting physics degrees. One day, Third decides to introduce his childhood best friend to the new friend he made in art club, Yoichi Shigaraki. Then ends up having to Third-wheel as they spend the whole-time flirting

Romeo & Juliet AU. This time, it's Second & Yoichi. I mean, they're both star-crossed lovers doomed by the narrative to die, so why not?

Victorian Era! Yoichi is secretly in love with his servant(s), but is engaged to marry someone else

Second is a horror writer with writer's block. When his apartment lease is up, he decides to finally buy a house out in the countryside, thinking the nearby spooky woods will inspire him. The house tends to inspire him more, what with the random oozing, slow opening of doors, and breezes that sound like whispers. It's almost as if he's really haunted...

Yoichi is in college now and away from his strict brother. He decides to go with his roommate to a party, but his sheltered upbringing has left him woefully underprepared for the wildness of a college party and... Has he been drugged? Don't worry Yoichi, your heroes have come to save you!

Baby Izuku Midoriya is babysat by his uncles! So, while they do all sorts of fun baby things that somehow turn out to be extremely dangerous, Hisashi has a nice dinner with Inko.

Done! I hope I've managed to inspire someone.

#Three Weeks of Trioholders #yoichi shigaraki #mha #second one for all holder #second one for all user #third one for all holder #third one for all user #duoholders #trioholders #jane's fic ideas

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tricks-tickles · 11 months

Text

Wild Lines

got inspired by dannys comment on some art i did so uh here

(tiny disclaimer: also there are some slighty suggestive implications here BUT i didn’t mean for them to be sexual at all! i imagine the boys are 13/14 here so its just teenagers being teenagers but if that makes u uncomfortable pls feel free to skip)

word count: 1264

pairing: Ler!Craig/Lee!Tweek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-and I just- ERK- feel bad for him? Like if I had to g-guard the stick and I LOST it? I would- GEUHH- probably die!”

Tweek and Craig stood in the latter’s bedroom. It was a pale morning, the sun was weakly streaming through Craig’s space-patterned curtains as he stifled a yawn, adjusting his cape. Tweek had slept at his the night before, and they were now getting ready to join the rest of their friends in playing the Stick of Truth. Tweek twitched, worrying over the day before where Clyde had let the stick be taken by the Elves, and was thus banished by the Wizard Cartman from time and space. His lack of a morning coffee was only exacerbating these nerves.

“Yeah, but there's nothing you can do, honey,” Craig responded, neither noticing the nickname as he half-heartedly searched for his hat.

“Still feel bad,” Tweek muttered. “ARG!! I can’t do this stu-stupid paint!”

Tweek had been attempting to draw the Barbarian markings on his arms for almost 10 minutes now, but each time his hands had shaken so violently he’d ended up with wildly spiky lines and a dozen ruined attempts.

“How did I do this yesterday...” He said, gripping his hair in frustration. Craig found his hat next to Tweek, securing it to his head, and hummed in response.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” He said, not registering his own words until Tweek’s eyes snapped up to his, paintbrush still hovering over his arm.

“Would you?!” Tweek replied, rocking forward to peer at Craig, who felt his face heat up a little at how close they were. He wasn’t sure where they stood, relationship-wise. They were ‘pretending’ to be together for the good of South Park, but lately, they’d been getting a little closer behind closed doors. Craig had given up limiting his pet names to the public only, and they’d just became like nicknames to the boys. Still, Craig would feel butterflies erupt in his stomach whenever Tweek got a little too close to be strictly platonic.

“Uh,” He said, trying to act like he hadn’t lost his train of thought, “Sure?”

Tweek handed Craig the paintbrush and held out his arm. Gently holding his wrist (and ignoring how his insides squirmed at the touch), Craig swirled the brush around the pot of dark paint on the dresser and slid it over the jagged edges of Tweek’s attempt, smoothing them out.

It was almost therapeutic. After he got over the initial wave of embarrassment at their proximity, drawing the markings became incredibly relaxing. That was until he reached Tweek’s torso. He started on his ribs, remembering how the stripe had cut across them yesterday, and drew a smooth line up. Or he would have, had Tweek not gasped and stumbled backward, cutting him off.

“Tweek?” He said, concerned.

“GAH- I-I’m okay! You just- EURGH- startled me! That’s all.” He squeaked suspiciously.

“Sure…” Craig muttered, placing the brush back on his chest and noting the full-body shiver that ran through him.

He tried to paint the line, but Tweek’s twitching made him grind his teeth in frustration as he started messing up the lines too. Tweek had been fine when it was his arm, why was he so nervous about his chest?

Maybe it’s me, Craig thought. Maybe I’m making him uncomfortable, and he doesn’t know how to tell me? He sighed and started filling in the wider section at Tweek’s side, hoping that he wasn’t making him feel too awkward when Tweek suddenly gripped Craig’s cape tightly and made a strained noise. He looked up and panicked when he saw that Tweek’s face was bright red and screwed up.

“...Tweek?” He said, again.

“I’m fine!” Tweek shouted, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Just keep g-gOING!”

If I’m making you that uncomfortable-, he thought before shaking his head and resolving to finish quicker. He started again with the short light strokes on Tweek’s side, then unbeknownst to him, the dam broke.

“Craig!” Tweek squealed, “It- ACK- tihihicklehes!” He shook his head as the giggles finally spilled out of him.

Craig stopped dead. Tickles? This whole time I’ve been thinking I’m making him uncomfortable and that he hates how close I am and he was too stressed to say anything- and I was just tickling him? He balked at Tweek, who covered his face in embarrassment.

“And you didn’t think to say anything?” He deadpanned.

“Sorry,” Tweek said, still covering his face.

Craig hummed, then eyed the vulnerable position Tweek was putting himself in. He wasn’t exactly mad at Tweek, but the idea of revenge did sound nice. He set the paintbrush down on the dresser, then lifted his hands, hovering them above Tweek’s sides before diving in.

Tweek jumped, squirming from the surprise attack.

“Crahaihihihg!” He giggled.

“Yes, babe?” He said innocently, pinching along Tweek’s sides.

Tweek squeaked, curling in on himself while his hands gripped Craig’s cape and tugged on it.

"Nohoho!"

Craig shifted, moving his hands to wiggle softly over Tweek’s stomach. He stumbled backwards, still holding Craig’s cape and bringing him down with him as Tweek fell onto Craig’s bed.

He paused for a second, letting Tweek catch his breath as he considered their position. Tweek lay on his back, his legs sprawled around Craig, who was kneeling in between his thighs. He felt his face heat up and distracted himself by grabbing Tweek’s hips, which were exposed due to his costume's lack of a shirt. He squeezed, wiggling his thumbs into the divots of the bones.

Tweek squealed, tipping his head back in laughter.

“CRAHAHAIHIHIG!” He cried, gently hitting Craig’s shoulders as he kicked his legs uselessly.

“What?” He teased, “Can the Barbarian not handle the tickles?”

Tweek’s face flushed red, one hand shooting up to cover his face, smearing the already smudged paint.

“IHIHI’LL- URGH- KIHIHIHILL YOHOHUHUHU!” He laughed, grabbing Craig’s forearms.

Tweek was stronger than Craig, objectively, but he made no move to stop his hands from reaching up to skitter along his sides and gently scratching at the base of his ribs.

Tweek started to hiccup in his laughter, squeezing Craig’s arms. He leaned forwards, glancing up at Tweek’s face for a moment. His eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks a rosy red, and his face split wide in a toothy smile that made Craig’s heart skip a beat. Cute… he thought, then shook his head and pressed his lips to Tweek’s stomach, blowing a raspberry.

That was the wrong move as Tweek suddenly regained his strength and launched forwards, knocking the two of them off the bed and onto the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

Shit.

Craig’s heart pounded, Tweek loomed over him, his fingers twitching as he searched for where to start his revenge. But their position… Tweek straddling Craig’s waist, crouching over him, his warm hands crawling under Craig’s shirt… His face burned, and in a moment of panic he cried,

“Wait!”

Tweek paused, and in his eyes, Craig truly saw the Barbarian Tweek was playing, that wild stare- and his insides turned to mush.

“If- if you tick- uh, get revenge on me I won’t do your paint.” He said in a rush.

Tweek hummed and twitched a little. After a moment’s deliberation, he sat back, letting Craig up.

“Fine.” He said.

Craig sighed in relief and picked up the paintbrush, ready to correct what had been smudged in their antics when Tweek added, “I’ll just- ACK- get you back when you l-least expect, babe.”

Shit. It was going to be a long day.

#lee!tweek #ler!craig #south park tickles #this is probably the healthiest fic ive ever worked on bc i wrote this over the course of a week and did a little bit everyday #is this what its like to be neurotypical #anyway if u have an prompts my inbox is open im actually feeling inspired to complete some asks

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mad4turtles · 1 year

Note

Would LOVE to know if the reason Casey Jr looks “haunted” in that second final line of your most recent Rise one-shot (part 18, if you happen to add another before seeing this!) is if, despite different circumstances and timing and just about everything, Future Donnie did the exact same thing to the exact same bull yokai.

A beloved universal constant.

.... ummmmmm... HOLY CRAP. So, this turned into a 9-page THESIS.

I cannot tell you how INSPIRED i was by this, holy stinking super crap! This hit me like a bus, and I thank you so much for gifting me with this opportunity!

Enjoy some more Donnie being a bamf!

---

A Beloved Universal Constant

“—but you won't listen to reason, you stubborn fool!”

The yelling wakes Casey up with a gasp. Master Donatello hasn't had time to soundproof certain sections in their newest base, and right now, Casey can hear General Bostarus' booming voice down the hall from the children's sleeping quarters.

He's not the only one roused by the noise, his friends rubbing their eyes or whimpering in fright. But he's the only one to get up and investigate. If not out of pure curiosity (Auntie April tells him it'll get him in trouble one day), then because he can hear Uncle Leo shouting, too.

(It's been like this for a while. Ever since they'd had to flee from the last base over a month ago. Casey remembers it well. He sees it every time he shuts his eyes.

He remembers the screeching alarms, people shouting and screaming that the Krang were coming. He remembers lights flickering as the Krang drilled through earth and steel, trying to dig them up or bury them alive. He remembers his mother gathering their meagre possessions, scooping him into her arms before running like a bat out of hell with the rest of the colony through the evacuation route.

He remembers the walls caving in and more screaming as the lights went out. He remembers clinging to his mother's shirt as he wailed, terrified that the boogeyman from his nightmares was right above them, screeching and hungry.

He remembers a flash of vibrant red, a behemoth in the shape of a spiky turtle filling up the space, holding up the rubble with glowing hands and shouting, “GO!”

He remembers his mother staring wide-eyed at the glowing turtle before setting her jaw, nuzzling him, kissing his hair and whispering their family's mantra in his ear, whispering “I love you”, before passing him and her mask off to Master Leonardo. He remembers watching her and a handful of others following her back into the glowing red tunnel with a warrior cry, weapons raised high. He remembers Master Leonardo screaming at her and the red giant to come back, you assholes, don't do this to me, don't do this, YOU CAN'T LEAVE US, RAPH—!

He remembers the red giant's smile, brighter than his body and warmer than any campfire, right before the Krang broke through and closed the cave off.

That was the last time Casey ever saw Uncle Raphael or his Mom.

Everything's felt off since then. People are tense, afraid, sad or constantly arguing over things Casey doesn't understand. One of the Yokai Generals, a giant bull named Bostarus, keeps bothering Casey's uncles to the point where even Master Michelangelo, the most peaceable of the turtles, looks ready to throttle him. Again, Casey doesn't understand why, but apparently, it's come to a head now.

The yelling gets louder as Casey draws closer to the makeshift war room. He's still a ninja novice, but he's proud of himself when no one hears or sees him sneaking out and peering around the corner. Then again, it could be because everyone's shouting so they can't hear him, but still. It's a win!

It feels less like a win when he sees the General, big and buff, littered with scars and a heart-shaped tattoo on his neck, throwing his massive horns about with rage and towering over his stone-faced Uncle Leo. Uncle Donatello, as usual, stands right beside him. He looks bored, but his hands folded behind his shell clench hard enough that the knuckles are white. Master Michelangelo and Auntie April hover behind, looking ready to strangle the bull with mystic chains or beat him to a pulp. The room split nearly in half on each side like they were gearing up to fight.

This baffles Casey because the enemy should be the Krang. Not each other.

“I don't want to speak for everyone,” Uncle Leo says with forced calm, “but I'm pretty sure everything you've just said is not only outrageous, insane and impractical but so incredibly racist that I'm surprised you've lasted his long as a General without being shanked like a Caesar salad dressing.”

Casey has no idea what that means, but it makes a few in the room chuckle. Even Uncle Donatello cracks a grin.

Bostarus snorts. “I've lasted this long because my people are strong. Our forces rallied, ready to defend and fight the day the Krang came to our world while the humans ran about like headless chickens, screaming and crying for their 'leaders' to save them! Even now, they continue to deplete our resources like rodents, unable to survive the way we yokai have been forced to for centuries because of them—”

Uncle Leonardo steps forward with a violent hiss that sends shivers down Casey's spine. “Half of our forces, if not more, are made up of humans,” he seethes. “We have refugees seeking sanctuary here, families, children, and trained combatants fighting and dying for our cause, our planet, just like the yokai. And you're suggesting we turn them away? Because of an old grudge that shouldn't matter in the face of an alien invasion? I must ask, General, if you're under the influence of hallucinogenics for even suggesting something so disgusting.”

“I beg your pardon, boy?”

“I'm asking you if you are high, you absolute douche-canoe,” Uncle Leo spits. Casey fights a giggle. “And I may be whole decades younger, but I'm still the leader of the Resistance. I earned my stripes and fought to be here just like you. You're in my house now, asshole. Show some respect.”

Wow, Casey thinks. He's so cool. Even when he's mad.

Bostaurus snorts hard enough to send Uncle Leo's mask tails fluttering. The turtle doesn't flinch, not even when the bull stomps the distance between them and gets right in his face, Casey's Uncle stands straight and tall like a mountain, infallible, immovable.

Then Bostarus grins wide and nasty and says, “Why should I respect a cowardly fool who lets his brother die for his mistakes?”

The room goes cold. No one breathes. Casey shakes.

Uncle Donatello's jaw clenches hard enough that veins bludge in his neck. And Uncle Leo—he goes white. His face goes slack with horror, and he takes a step back—

Auntie April and Master Michelangelo start shouting, throwing nasty words that Casey's never even heard of. The room goes ballistic, tables and chairs screeching as people get up in arms.

Bostarus stands back with folded arms, looking smug, and Casey wants to hit him.

“What's wrong, turtle?” he taunts. “Nothing to say? Too afraid to admit that your failure cost you your—?”

“Enough.”

The room falls deathly quiet. Casey flinches. He's never heard Uncle Donatello's voice sound like that before. It's dark and cold. And when he lifts his head to meet Bostarus' eyes, his eyes are even darker behind the flash of mystic purple swirling in golden irises.

But Bostarus doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead, he huffs again. “Oh, what? Is the hermit scientist going to tell me I'm wrong—?”

“Yes, I am.” Donatello steps right up to the bull so they're toe to hoof. Uncle Donnie is as tall and taut with muscle as his twin brother, but he's lean where Leo is broad, organised chaos with streamlined tech all over his body where Leo is worn and ravaged from battle and time spent on the wastelands of the surface. To those who don't know them well, the elder twin cuts a slightly less intimidating figure than his leader.

Casey watches him now and wonders how anyone could think that.

“Everything that has come out of that crevice you call a mouth has been wrong,” the softshell continues in a bored drawl. His clenched fists are white-knuckled. “It was wholly biased and downright hateful to the point that I wonder how you rose to your station in the first place. Certainly not due to your skills and intuition as a figure of authority, or lack thereof. And if you continue to run said mouth, I assure you, you will not enjoy the consequences. So do yourself and all of us a favour and shut it.”

“Stand down, Donatello,” Uncle Leonardo says, but he sounds tired, reaching for his twin's hand and gently pulling. “Just drop it. It's not worth—”

Uncle Donnie whips his head around to glare at Uncle Leo, golden eyes hot with fury. Uncle Leo, and everyone behind him, flinch. Even Commander O'Neil looks pale.

Again, Bostarus doesn't get the message and chuckles. “Better listen to your 'leader', hermit. Probably the smartest thing he's ever—”

Casey sees the second Uncle Donatello snaps.

Between one breath and the next, Uncle Donnie picks up the table—the long metal one that had taken seven human men to haul inside—and slams it at Bostarus' face.

“Shit—!” Auntie April yelps, jumping back as the bull flies to the back wall, nose and forehead dripping with blood. Master Michelangelo squeaks, leaping into the air and staying there.

Uncle Leo's eyes are huge. “Donnie, what the fu—?!”

Uncle Donnie stomps over to the slumped bull, yanking a metal chair as he goes. He stands over Bostarus right as he's remembering who he is, raising the chair over his head. The yokai's eyes go wide.“Wait—!”

Uncle Donnie slams the chair down over Bostarus' face hard enough that Casey can feel his bones rattling. He brings it down again on his shoulder, on his kneecap, his arm, again and again and again, ignoring the shouts and cries for him to stop goddammit what the hell are you doing—!

Casey can't see his Uncle's face from here, but if even Bostarus is quaking and begging, he thinks he's better off not knowing.

“Donatello, enough!”

It takes Uncle Leo yanking him away by the rim of his battle shell to get Uncle Donnie to stop, ripping the bloodstained chair from his trembling hands. Even then, he has to physically hold him back as he hisses bloody murder at Bostarus. “Enough, stop, Donnie, stop! You'll freaking kill him—!”

“Give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn't.”

“Because murder?!”

Bostarus is helped to his feet, shaking, bloody and unsteady, by his men. His left eye is swollen shut, and his right horn bends at an odd angle. “What—” he coughs, and Casey swears he sees a tooth go flying, “What—in spirits name are you doing, boy? You—you have any idea who you're—”

Uncle Donnie shrugs off Leo's hands and stalks towards the wounded Yokai, who goes very, very still. Now Casey can see his Uncle's eyes blazing like embers, and yeah, it's terrifying.

“You seem to be grossly misinformed,” he says lowly, but his voice carries in the silence, “so allow me to do what was once typical of my generation and educate you.”

He holds up a finger. “Number one: I don't give two shits about who you are. You are not my leader, you are a wannabe General from an allied colony. I don't answer to you. Number two—” another finger—“Leonardo made a mistake. He didn't know what was at stake until it was too late. None of us did. And yet he's here, leading the only Resistance faction left in America, fighting side by side with humans, mutants and yokai for our planet. You have no right to belittle and humiliate him when he's doing more for our cause than you ever will with your small-minded, ignorant beliefs that will absolutely get you killed.

“And Number three,” he holds up his last finger and leans in close. Bostarus doesn't move. “If you ever come at my brother like that again, I will make a Krang labour camp look like a godsend. You will wake up every day begging for death, and when I finally grant your wish, no one will miss you when you're gone. Are we clear, General?”

Casey watches as General Bostarus, one of their strongest fighters, known for his ferocity against the Krang forces over the last ten years, cowers under Uncle Donatello's glare and nods.

Casey beams. “Holy shit.”

Every head whirls to the doorway. Donnie's murderous scowl drops in favour of comically wide eyes when he sees Casey peering around the corner. Mom used to call it his 'Oh Shit, a Child' face.

Uncle Leo recovers first, shaking his head and turning to Bostarus' pitiful form. “This meeting is over. Anything else you need to say can wait until some of your teeth grow back. Or just send a strongly worded email, I don't care. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

Bostarus looks like he wants to say something. Uncle Donnie looks at him, a spark of mystic purple in his eyes. The bull shuts up, letting himself be led out of the room and down the hall, limping with every step.

Uncle Leo lets out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. Behind him, people set upon fixing the room, setting chairs upright and trying to lift the table to no avail. “Christ on a bicycle, I hate that guy,” he mutters. Then he turns to Casey, now out of hiding, pulling on the 'disappointed Sensei' face he wears whenever Casey does something stupid, marching closer and folding his arms. “As for you, Casey Jones, what are you doing out of bed?”

Casey tugs at the hem of his shirt and shrugs. “Heard you yelling, 'n it woke me up.”

Instantly, Uncle Leo's stern frown drops into a grimace. “Eugh boy. That loud, huh? We really need to soundproof these rooms.” He leans down and scoops Casey up. Casey squeaks, latching onto his Uncle's shoulders for balance; Uncle Leo's face melts into a smile as he boops their noses together. “And where did you hear that kind of talk, eh? Certainly not from your incredibly responsible, awesome, handsome Uncle Leo, right?”

Despite everything, Uncle Leo can still make Casey laugh with a smirk and a stupid joke. “Nah, Uncle Mike said it 'n told me not to say it, 'n not to tell you he said it.”

His uncles and aunt all glare at a floating, very meek Master Michelangelo. “Dude!” he cries. “Snitch!”

Casey giggles again. “Sorry! Oh oh, Uncle Donnie!

“Casey Jones,” Uncle Donnie replies, typing away on his vambrace, apparently done with this whole situation but not enough to ignore Casey.

“Can you teach me how to throw a table like that?”

Uncle Donnie freezes. “Uh—”

“That was—uh, sick! Yeah, sick! You got Mister Bostarus good! Just like you wanted to!”

Uncle Leo raises an eye ridge. “Oh?” he says, craning his neck to look at Uncle Donnie, who starts to sweat. He doesn't look scary now. He just looks scared as Uncle Leo grins wide. “Is that right?”

“Casey Jones Jr,” Uncle Donnie hisses—not unkind, just desperate—“I swear to the god that forsook us you will be eating rocks for breakfast for a year!”

Casey is six years old. He is the son of Cassandra Jones and a beloved nephew to three mutant turtles and their human sister. His sensei (and godfather—or just father in every way that matters) is one Hamato Leonardo, who is what many call a 'Little Shit'.

Therefore, Casey Jones Jr is also a Little Shit.

“Uncle Donnie used to call him a—uh—a bullshitting bitchless bitch, and the only way he'd ever get laid is—is to rest. I think that's what he said. I don't know what it means.”

Leo's jaw drops. There's a loud bark of laughter from the back, which starts a chain of hysterical laughter that fills the room. It's far louder than the yelling and screaming prior, and it rings in Casey's ears. But Uncle Leo is smiling and laughing so hard his wrinkles seem to fade. Auntie April and Uncle Mikey kick their feet wildly on the floor, and Uncle Donnie hides his red face behind his hands.

It's all so delightful, so Casey counts it as a win.

Then he taps Uncle Leo's shoulder, waiting for the slider to stop laughing long enough to lean in as Casey whispers, “You were cool, Sensei. So was Uncle Donnie! He's the best!”

And Uncle Leo's face does—something as he turns to look at the softshell. Uncle Mikey hangs off him, needling him about his horrible influence while grinning like a loon. April hip-checks him hard enough that he nearly falls over. He scowls and yells something unheard over the persisting laughter, but then he meets Leo's gaze, and his expression softens. His snout twists into a small but real smile, one Casey knows is reserved only for them.

And Uncle Leo's eyes shine as he smiles back. “Yeah,” he says, nosing Casey's hair. “Yeah. He is.”

~0o0~

As the years pass, Casey grows and moves with the tides of the Resistance. General Bostarus and his group eventually leave the Liberty Island colony to rebuild their own. He dies in battle weeks later, he and his men picked off one by one in a violent ambush that left no survivors.

Donatello dies before Casey's fourteenth birthday. A part of Master Leonardo dies with him.

Casey doesn't remember much of his early childhood. After Donatello's death, many try not to cling too tight to the little things or the past. Look toward the future and hold onto hope.

It broke his heart when he found out one day that he barely remembered his Mom or Uncle Raph. He couldn't recall how they sounded, smelled or felt like. But he never forgot that final smile before the earth caved in. He'll never forget Mom's words—

"Anata wa hitori janai.”

You are not alone.

He lived by that. They all did. It was their war cry to the demons that sought to end them and everything they knew for no reason beyond the need to conquer and destroy. It was their shield beside their greatest weapon.

Casey never forgot that. Even after leaving his destroyed world and saving the new one, he holds that memory, and many others of his old family, close to his heart.

Then one day, many years in the past, a world saved and a family unbroken, Raphael asks—

“So, how'd it go at Hueso's?”

“Donnie pulled a John Cena and made a bull yokai his bitch with a chair.”

Casey coughs up his cherry Dr Pepper.

No way. There's no freaking way.

Amid the spluttering and laughter, Casey reaches over to tap Leo's shoulder. “Wait, wait—a bull yokai? What did he look like?”

Leo swallows a mouthful of pizza before speaking. “Kinda like Bullhop—you've met him, right?—only like twice as big, nose ring, kinda blue-ish fur, some bigass horns and, uhh... I think he had a tattoo on his neck?”

A tattoo. “Was it a bull inside a love heart with 'Mom' written under it in cursive?”

Leo pauses. “Yeaahhh,” he says slowly. “Do you know him?”

Casey nods, and he can't stop the grin that splits his face. “Yeah! In the future, he was one of the leaders of a smaller Yokai colony from the BogWater region—that used to be New Jersey before it flooded with toxic Krang refuse from the ships.”

“Wow,” Mikey whistles. “Even in the future they can't catch a break.”

April snickers. “And that bull guy Donnie John Cena'd was a war general?”

“Yeah! And he and Master Leonardo were like worst enemies! You guys hated each other!”

That quiets the room instantly. The smiles fall, and dread taints the air. Casey winces. Maybe he could've worded that better.

“Oh god,” Donnie drops his head into his hands, “Did I set the wheels of another apocalypse into motion?”

“No, no, nonono, not at all!” Casey stammers, waving his hands. “We're perfectly safe, I promise!”

There's a collective sigh as everyone relaxes.

“Spirits, child,” Draxum says with feeling. “Be mindful of your words.”

Casey scratches the back of his head meekly. “Sorry, sorry. But there isn't anything to worry about. Despite his size and strength, General Bostarus was mostly all talk off the battlefield. Master Donatello used to tell me that he was a—what was it? A 'bullshitting bitchless bitch, and the only way he'll ever get laid is to rest? I never got that, but—”

Aaannd Raph has soda coming out of his nose. Draxum chokes on air. Mikey, April and Cassandra start shrieking. Splinter rolls under his chair, cackling. Donnie looks ecstatic.

“Jeezy heckin' creezy—Donnie!” Leo manages through his wheezing laughter, tears running down his face. “A bitchless—heeheehee—laid to rest, I can't—god—!”

“Good to know my creative insults were still the toppest of notches even at the end of the world,” Donnie preens, examining his nails as Leo clings to him for balance. Donnie lets him and turns back to Casey. “Sidebar, how did you know it was the same bull yokai based on what Leo said?”

Casey grins like a shark.

Donnie stiffens. Leo stops laughing, and everyone sits up.

“No.”

Casey nods. “Yes.”

Leo's jaw drops. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

Donnie throws up his arms, nearly smacking Leo in the face. “Freaking how?!”

Casey giggles. “It was kinda epic. One of my favourite memories from my childhood. Wanna hear it?”

“Um, is water freaking wet?” Leo bounces in place, beaming like a loon and clinging tight to a tolerant Donnie. “Yes.”

Casey takes up the seiza position, hands on his lap as he clears his throat. “Very well,” he says, adopting the tone Donatello would use whenever he sat down to tell them stories of the Before Times; enthralling, dramatic and everything that made him the Uncle Donnie he misses fiercely. “Gather 'round.”

Everyone shuffles in their seats and leans in. Splinter scurries from under his chair and settles beside Mikey, who automatically wraps his arms around his Papa to lean against him. Only then does Casey begin.

“Let us set the scene. It was the year of our lord 2038—“ A few snickers float, and Casey lets himself grin. He's hamming it up, but he can't help it. It's one of his favourites.

“The Resistance is still going strong, despite the Krang's efforts to snuff us out. War parties and colonies travel from all over the world in search of sanctuary. One in particular, led by General Bostarus of the BogWater region, found refuge with the Liberty Island colony the year before, and things were going well. Until a Krang pack discovered us, leading to the loss of our headquarters. After establishing a new base, things became tense within the higher rankings. And General Bostarus had a lot to say to the younger Resistance leader, Master Leonardo...”

(He leaves out the part where Raph and Cass had stayed behind to fend them off. They were hailed as heroes for their sacrifice. But what's a hero to the broken hearts of the family left behind?

He also leaves out Bostarus' snide remarks. He'd seen the lingering shadows in Leo's eyes and thought history's repeated itself enough in that regard.)

By the end, Leo and Donnie are all but leaning on each other, arms linked, Leo's bad leg draped over Donnie's lap, a look on their faces Casey can't quite name. The others range from proud to once again laughing themselves silly.

“Damn,” April hoots, wiping a tear from her eye with a finger. “Disaster Twins gonna disaster no matter what time branch, huh?”

“Bet,” Raph chuckles. “It's a—what's it called—a universal congress?”

“A universal constant,” Donnie corrects shortly, rolling his eyes and leaning fully against Leo like it's nothing for his usual aversions, tugging the slider closer.

And Casey is there to witness another impossible repeat as Leo leans his head against Donnie's shoulder, wearing that same look on his face that's softer and warmer than any flamboyant mask he wears. And Donnie looks back, his snout twisting in a smile—it's bigger than what Casey remembers from his past, younger and freer without the burden of trying to save a dying world. But the love is as real and intense as it had been there, near the end of it all, as it is here where they won.

Casey's eyes burn. He smiles.

Leo notices Casey's stare. He smiles back.

Then he asks, “So, did future Donbon ever teach you how to yeet big, heavy shit at people?”

Casey barks a watery laugh. “Yeah, he did. Wanna see?”

“Don't ask stupid questions, Jr.”

“Cool. Hey, Raph, can you come here for a sec? I wanna yeet you like a table.”

“You wanna what me like a what?!”

(And while Casey proceeds to, in fact, yeet a screaming Raphael like a table, Donnie and Leo stay cuddled close on the couch, hands linked.

Casey spares them one last look over his shoulder at the impossible, beloved universal constant and calls it a universal win.)

---

Reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to send more prompts <3

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #my writing #disaster twins #future disaster twins #rottmnt movie #THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE #this is so LONG #but i regret nothing XD

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kokusfluffyhair · 10 months

Text

Tahomaru Modern AU Headcanons

Someone on here (you know who you are) got me into Dororo 4 years too late and now I'm obsessed. Let's see if this reaches anyone from the probably dead fandom of this underappreciated anime.

I really got captivated by Tahomaru. I probably see too much of myself in him. I can't stop imagining him in the modern world now.

(In this Modern AU, Tahomaru and Hyakkimaru grew up together as brothers and there was no contract with the demons.)

Tahomaru is a minor, so I will only write SFW headcanons.

+ He's gone through a lot of different style stages, from preppy (to look like the good boy to impress his mother) to sporty (trying to seem more athletic to impress his father) and found himself switching up between emo and luxury streetwear.

+ He really likes Italian designers like Gucci and Versace. (His parents are rich, so why not) Yes, he thinks he looks cool in those flashy, overly-printed items.

+ He either wears those clunky trainers with 'BALENCIAGA' written on them or DocMartens.

+ He is probably damaging his hair with the amount of product he uses in it. That hair's gotta be SPIKY.

+ The reason why he's so into his style is because it helps him to hide from his low self-esteem.

+ He compares himself to Hyakkimaru a lot, especially when it comes to their appearances. Tahomaru is bulkier/bigger-boned than his older brother and has a rougher-looking face. Hyakkimaru always got more attention from girls, which Tahomaru blames on his appearance.

+ He complains that he's fat (even though he's not) but he loves fried food and won't give it up.

+ He tries to make up for what he's lacking by being loud and overly-extroverted. But it seems to backfire.

+ He once tried to trim and groom his eyebrows, thinking it would make him more attractive, but he ended up trimming them too much. His mother giggled at him. His father got angry and insulted him.

+ He tries to spend as little time at home with his family as possible.

+ He has trouble making friends and often ends up pushing others away by being a brat.

+ He's gone through the phase of picking up skateboarding.

+ He's gone through the phase of trying to learn the guitar but smashed it out of frustration because it was too difficult for him.

+ He's also gone through the online gamer phase, but it was short-lived after he got into fights with too many people on the internet.

+ He tends to get into trouble. He doesn't shoplift or anything like that, but he would skateboard where he's not supposed to, loiter where he's not supposed to, do something stupid like knock over a bin on the street when he's angry.

+ He does okay in school. He doesn't fail anything but he doesn't get great marks. (Neither does Hyakkimaru, though he does better than his younger brother does.)

+ He once tried going to therapy, ended up doing some extreme trauma-dumping on the therapist that led him to burst into tears, and then refused to go back out of his own personal feeling of shame.

+ He acts tough, almost like some wannabe gangster, but he is really sensitive, hurt, and broken inside.

+ He does all he can to avoid having to face and deal with his own shit.

+ He likes to draw, and he's pretty good at it. He has to hide it from his father, who thinks art isn't manly enough of a hobby. His mother isn't very encouraging either because no matter how brilliant he is, whatever Hyakkimaru does is better.

+ The first time he had a crush, he spent hours writing a love letter in beautiful, calligraphy-like handwriting. He was brutally rejected.

+ Now whenever he tries to confess to someone, he does it through these cocky, lame pick-up lines that get him laughed at, and also rejected.

+ The worst time was when a girl agreed to go out with him just so she could get closer to Hyakkimaru.

+ Whenever Mutsu tries to give him tips on talking to girls, he doesn't listen.

(I wish I could write something more positive for him 😭)

#dororo #dororo headcanons #tahomaru dororo #tahomaru headcanons #tahomaru

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eevvvaa · 2 years

Text

Don’t Mess With Witches

Summary : On a witch hunt, Dean is willing to be bait. What could go wrong ?

Pairing : Dean x reader

Words : 9 991

Warnings : Fluff, a bit of angst, a hint of language (I think that's it, but let me know if I forgot something)

A/N : This is my very shamefully late participation for @avanatural‘s 300 followers celebration. Congratulations again my friend ! I'm sure you have much more now and you clearly deserve them but here it is. Thank you so so much for being so patient with me, reassuring me when I was worried because I had missed the deadline and being so kind when I explained to you my writing block. I hope you won’t be disappointed. My prompt was “ With great hotness comes great responsibility”

A/N 2 : I want to thank @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior too for being a very nice, helpful and patient beta reader. You really helped me, it was nice to have someone pointing at my mistakes and correcting them. Working with you helped me get back on track. You’re a great English teacher ahah, thank you for aggreing to this.

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89

Masterlist

“Why does it always have to be witches? I hate freaking witches! Give me the creeps.” Dean said, excessively shaking his body as if a huge shiver had run down his spine from his spiky hair to the tips of his toenails.

Not everyone liked witches.

They were the kind of magical beings you either hated or adored. Their magic and strength coming from the moonlight, the rays of the sun, or the soft and damp dirt of the woods could be fascinating. But the whole sacrificing Thumper and showering with lambs’ blood, could be an ugly and disturbing part.

Some people saw witches as devotee defenders of nature, protecting and worshiping the miracle that is Life, wanting to keep the balance intact. Others only saw them as mean women hidden in cabins, surrounded by skeletons of animals, drawing with blood and dirt, chanting in Latin, naked in the middle of the night, calling Satan as their one and only ruler.

Those representations of witches were just clichés. And truth was, both of those clichés did exist, but they weren’t all witches. Not all witches were psychopaths or lovers of nature. Some were just living their life peacefully without doing any harm to anyone - or any animals.

Unfortunately, Dean had only met the killer ones.

“You do know that not all of them sacrifice humans or think that Beelzebub is their true lover, right?” I told the older brother, rolling my eyes.

He turned to me, eyebrows slightly raised and arms crossed. We’d had this discussion before and I had proved him wrong multiple times, but Dean was a man full of pride and he didn’t like to be wrong. So it was the same argument over and over.

“You only say that because you owe them.” He said, standing in the middle of the motel room.

I crossed my legs on the bed I was sitting on, not needing to stand up to win this fight. And sometimes remaining calm had more power than yelling. I rested my back against the headboard behind me and took a breath, already bored with this discussion.

“You know that’s not true. Yes, some of them helped me in the past but I don’t owe them anything. I just learned that not all ‘monsters’ do monstrous things. The ones you hunt usually do but it doesn’t apply to every one of them. But you know that, your best friend is an angel, you’re friends with a werewolf, and you literally helped a vampire return to Earth. Not all monsters are killers, just like not all hunters are idiot brutes who don’t know anything besides killing ghouls.” I declared, tying back my hair to allow the very light air conditioner to blow on my hot neck.

“Dean, you guys have already talked about this. Can we move on and just focus on the case?” Sam interrupted the conversation, probably bored of this never-ending argument.

“You think hunters are dumbasses?” The older man asked, his voice a bit higher than usual, emphasizing his fake offended face.

I shook my head, a soft smile spreading across my lips because even though this discussion was always the same, it was also always funny to see how Dean could act like if he was genuinely outraged by my words. I let a soft chuckle out and pushed myself off of the bed, standing in front of him.

“No. Not all hunters are dumbasses. You are the exception.” I told him, patting his chest. I winked before walking to the bathroom, the heat of the season making me sweaty and smelly.

All I wanted was to take a shower.

Before I closed the door, I heard Sam frankly laugh and I could perfectly see in my mind the bitch face Dean was giving him.

In the bathroom, I sighed as the heat of the summer invaded the room. It couldn’t be normal to have such a warm day, even if it was the middle of July. Taking my shirt off, I already felt lighter and cooler but I desperately needed a cold shower to get rid of this sticky feeling. Getting rid of my pants, I could still hear the brothers talking in the room.

Motels walls were always awfully thin.

“She always wins, I don’t understand why you persist arguing with her.” He declared to his brother who growled in response.

“It’s just witches, man. I never liked them and never will. There’s nothing more to say.” Dean complained, and deep down I understood where he was coming from.

As hunters they were taught to hate everything related to the supernatural, trained to fight those creatures with weapons or their own fists. So witches and their spells could be very frustrating to them. They could never be sure of their next move or trick, so they could very easily feel powerless against them.

I understood that but Dean had a real obsession with them and I had asked him plenty of times if something had ever happened with one of them but the answer was always no. He just hated them.

“You have a deep-rooted hate against them, yet you never had trouble liking Y/N.” Sam told his brother with his teasing voice and the corner of my lips unconsciously lifted.

The tall man always loved teasing his brother and I about being friends, claiming there was something more than friendship between the two of us. And he never believed us when we answered that we were nothing more. Truth was, in my mind I always added a ‘yet’ at the end of my answer, hoping that one day I was gonna have the courage to reveal my feelings to the older brother.

“Y/N is not a witch.” Dean answered back, something protective in his voice.

He was right, I wasn’t a witch.

But witches had helped me through the hardest time of my life. When my parents died, killed by a demon, it wasn’t hunters who saved me. It was witches.

They had searched for this demon for a while, trying to stop it from committing more massacres, until they found it in my house, slitting my parents’ throats. I was sixteen and never screamed so loudly in my whole life. They killed the demon and kindly took care of me for a few years, showing me how they lived and what they did, explaining to me that they were neither good or bad, just bits of both, as we all are. But they also taught me that some witches could be real monsters, working with demons like the one who had killed my family.

Those were the ones hunters killed.

They were the reason I decided to become a hunter. I wanted to protect people from living through the same thing I had.

On a hunt I met Sam and Dean and we decided we were a good team; we’ve worked together ever since. We shared our pasts and I explained where I came from. At first they froze, wondering about my relationship with witches. But after some explanation and more information, they agreed to continue working with me, understanding that I wasn’t the enemy.

Thinking back on the words of the older brother, I smiled again, appreciating the defensive tone he had used while talking about me, but I couldn’t help but tease him, it was too funny.

So, in a tank top and panties I half opened the door, not completely revealing myself to the brothers.

“Well, I know the basics of being a witch.” I interrupted and they both turned towards me.

A grin illuminated Sam’s face; he was happy to watch me annoying his brother. Dean on the other hand scanned me from head to toe as much as he could, making me hide a little more behind the door. When he caught my eye, he acted like he hadn’t been ogling me, and cleared his throat.

“You want me to consider you as one or what? You know it’s not a compliment coming from me, Sweetheart.” He said, crossing his arms again.

“Maybe it’s time for you to accept that deep down you like them.” I said quickly before closing the door behind me, resting my back against it.

“I swear, that woman is stubborn as hell.” Dean declared, a smile in his deep voice.

“Dude, you’re the stubborn one because she’s definitely right.” His brother told him and I let a little laugh out as the older one scoffed.

“Yeah, of course you’re always on her side.”

I could see Dean’s pout and eye-roll even in another room, I knew him too well.

“I’m just always on the right side.” Sam explained and I heard Dean mimicking and mocking him.

I shook my head at their bickering and striped off my clothes before getting into the shower, enjoying the cool water easing my body.

Once I felt cleaner and lighter, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the first towel nearby, knowing that even if I had chosen one only for me, the brothers were going to mix them up and we’ll always end up using the same one.

Boys…

Wrapped in the dark blue towel, I looked around searching for my clean clothes. But the only piece of fabric I could find were the dirty ones on the floor. I sighed when I realized I had forgotten to take my other clothes with me before stepping into the bathroom. So, I tightened the towel around my body, making sure it wasn’t going to fall off when I walked out, and slowly opened the door.

I stuck my head out of the door and quickly looked at the front door, not hearing anything, nor seeing the brothers sitting at the table. On my tiptoes I got out of the bathroom and headed to my bag next to the table. But halfway there I heard someone clear their throat.

I jumped, letting a small scream out and putting my hands on my chest, both to keep the towel in place and to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. When I turned around, I saw Dean sitting on his bed against the wall, his phone in hand and his eyebrows raised in curiosity, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“God, Dean!” I yelled, cursing under my breath when I lifted my head in annoyance.

“Are you putting on a show for me or something?” He asked, a dirty grin plastered on his stupid, pretty face.

I both hated and loved that grin, because as much as I appreciated the warm feeling it awakened in my stomach, he always sent it my way when he was messing with me, sometimes confusing me as to whether the flirting was real, or just simple teasing.

Trying not to not let him get to me, I shook my head, hiding the blush on my cheeks and the effect he had on me.

“You wish. I wouldn’t have come out like this if knew you were here. Why are you all silent, anyway? And where is Sam?” I asked him, crossing my arms to hide my chest.

Dean stared at me for a second and I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer. He shook his head slightly as if he was trying to erase his thoughts. I let a small smile reach my lips.

“Well, I was alone. You want me to talk to myself? And Sammy went looking for some ice, he’ll be back in a few.” He explained and I nodded, we definitely needed ice to cool our drinks down or we were going to melt under the warmth of this day.

“Good, we’ll definitely need some.” I answered and walked closer to my bag.

When I was ready to pick it up from the floor, I glanced at the hunter and realized he was still looking at me. I sighed and stared at him.

“Would you mind turning around or closing your eyes?” I told him off, but he just turned his body towards me instead, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands crossed between his knees.

I growled and he chuckled, proud of annoying me. I glared at him and squinted, hoping he would get the message. I might have been trying to intimidate him, but Dean isn’t intimidated by much, so, not surprisingly, it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you cast a spell to make me forget what I see? You said you knew the basics, right? So why worry about me possibly seeing anything?” The hunter said with confidence, assured that I was going to back down from the subject of witches.

But I wasn’t planning on letting him win so easily. I hummed and nodded.

“You’re right, I’ll make a few calls and find a spell that works. Thanks for the idea, Dean.” I told him, quickly but carefully grabbing my clean clothes and my phone on the table, wiggling it so he could see it.

“I think I know one whose specialty is amnesia; shouldn’t be too complicated.” I added before rapidly heading to the bathroom again, locking the door behind me. The hunter’s face fell quickly, realizing that I could indeed call a few witches to ask for help with these kinds of things.

If he had truly thought about it, he would have known that I would never use any kind of spell on him, let alone a spell to erase his thoughts. It could be really dangerous. But Dean definitely wasn’t using his brain as he hurried to the bathroom and grabbed the handle of the door, desperately trying to open it.

“Y/N, open the door! Give me the phone!” He yelled behind the locked door and I chuckled, amused by how desperate he sounded.

He banged on the door with strength and I laughed a little louder, just to annoy him. He growled as an answer.

“Come on!” He shouted and there was the sound of a door opening and slamming in the background. Dean stopped hitting the door when a voice spoke.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam asked, confusion clear in his voice.

“She’s gonna erase my memory!” The hunter said urgently and I shook my head, amazed by Dean’s naivete sometimes.

“Well, do you deserve it?” Sam asked and his brother rapidly answered.

“No! I barely saw anything!” He argued, the worry of me actually erasing his thoughts making his voice shake a little.

Chuckling, I got dressed, shaking my head over and over as the brothers continued to argue about whether Dean deserved to have his memory erased or not. Then, tying my hair in up a ponytail, I put my phone in my back pocket and came closer to the door.

“Right, thank you Becca, I knew you were the one to call for this. Take care, bye.” I said loudly so they could hear me clearly behind the plank of wood.

“Seems like you’re screwed, man.” Sam told his brother who grumbled in annoyance and defeat.

Sitting at the table in our motel room, I had to bite my cheek a few times to keep myself from laughing right in Dean’s face every time I felt his eyes on me.

Once I’d left the bathroom, I acted like nothing happened at all, completely ignoring Dean and winking at Sam for backing me up on this little prank. After some time, Dean understood it was just a little joke and that nothing was going to happen to him. And even if he was now aware he was safe, he was still eyeing me, making sure I wasn’t going to put a spell on him every time his back was turned.

I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile a little at the idea.

Sam began laying out our next case. “So, according to the witnesses I interrogated, all the men disappeared after hitting on a redheaded woman in the Outback Bar. The bartender said he saw the woman multiple times but never with the same man, despite them being good-looking and quote, ‘confident enough to think they could spend a night with such a woman’. Wait,” Sam shuffled some papers around, “I’m gonna show you some pictures.”

He browsed through the files and put the pictures of the victims on the table in front of them.

All of the men were indeed very good-looking, from the blond one with the shiny brown eyes to a couple dark-haired men with intense blue eyes, their body types and faces were different, but no one could argue with their attractiveness.

After observing all of them, I looked back at Sam who was reading through one of the files again, probably making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“So, what do we do?” I asked as Dean picked up one of the photographs to look closer at it.

The younger man raised his head, his long hair brushing against the sides of his face. He cleared his throat a little, thinking about it for a second, but I knew him well enough to know he already had an idea.

Running his hand through his hair, he let a sigh escape and looked at his brother and I.

“Well, the easiest option and the one most likely to work, is to use bait. One of us should go to the bar, find this woman, hit on her, and get her to lead us to her place – the one she uses for her victims.” Sam explained.

I wasn’t very fond of this idea.

Using someone as a bait for a hunt was never safe. We could easily lose track of the person being bait, mistake an innocent person for the monster, or something even worse. Sam was obviously feeling the same way because he looked like he wasn’t very happy about his own proposition. I opened my mouth, ready to try for another solution, but Dean cut me off before I could get a word out.

“Alright then, I think this one is for me. Sorry Sammy.” He declared and I turned towards him, brows raised at his quick and easy willingness to be bait. Sam scoffed at his brother and straightened in his seat.

“And why are you the one who has to be bait?” Sam asked. “I think we should talk about this a little more. You don’t have to do this; I’m sure we can find another way, right y/n?”

I nodded, in agreement. But Dean did not agree.

“What is the other option? Wait for another guy to disappear?” Dean asked. Sam and I didn’t have an answer.

“Come on, it won’t be the first time one of us has had to be bait. And you two will be in the bar, making sure I don’t get stabbed through the heart by this bitch.” Dean declared, leaving me silent.

To say I didn’t like the idea of Dean being bait was an understatement. I didn’t want either of them to be used to trick a monster, especially unpredictable ones like witches.

“But why does it have to be you?” Sam asked again. “I could be the one to do it.” The younger brother tried to argue but Dean shook his head at him, putting the picture down on the table.

“Well, no offense, Sammy, but I think this one is for me. With great hotness comes great responsibility.” He proudly declared and Sam and I rolled our eyes in sync.

“You did not just say that.” I sighed, throwing my head back in annoyance.

“You’re an idiot.” Sam said simply, his best bitch-face taking over his features.

Dean chuckled proudly and shrugged at our reactions. He was indeed an idiot and I was convinced he knew it because the smile he gave us at this exact moment, showed just how happy he was with his turn of phrase.

“What? You disagree, Sweetheart?” He asked me, cocking an eyebrow.

I crossed my arms. “Let him be bait.” I told Sam, not really agreeing with the idea, but with the fact that his brother was an idiot. Sam sighed and closed the file, shaking his head a little as his brother proudly smiled next to me.

The bar was crowded and it was a bit difficult to keep an eye on Dean. The pop songs blaring through the speakers at were making the customers dance, crowding the floor. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, you had to try and find a path between the girls jumping up and down and swinging their hair around, and the couples making out.

In the forty-five minutes we’d been there, we still hadn’t spotted the witch. Only a few girls had come to talk to Dean, awakening a feeling in my stomach.

Probably jealousy…

I didn’t want to be jealous of them because I knew he wasn’t really interested in them. Even if he wasn’t just there to catch a witch, even if he wanted to take them home for real, he’d probably show interest for a night and then move on, and if I was honest with myself, that wasn’t what I wanted.

I didn’t want a night with Dean, I wanted a life with him. It didn’t matter that as a hunter that life could end in five years. I just wanted to share things with him that those girls couldn’t. I wanted his tears and his laughter, the side of his personality those girls would never know – the caring and funny dork and the strong and determined hunter.

But none of that changed the fact that I hated the look he was giving them and the way they ran their hands up and down his arm.

“You think she’s gonna show?” Sam asked next to me, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked at him quickly and I could see he was a bit worried and deeply focused. He wanted the witch to show up, but didn’t want his brother to get hurt. I felt the same.

“Well, I hope so but I also hope she’ll hurry up so we can get it over with before anyone else gets killed.” I told him, before looking back at Dean, who’d turned to look for us.

He searched through the crowd a bit before spotting us sitting in a booth at the end of the bar. When our eyes locked, Dean quickly winked at me and I allowed myself to give him a smile in return. He grinned a little before going back to his drink, scanning the people around him to find our target.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Sam confessed and I stopped looking at his brother to focus on the worried man on my left.

His eyes were fixed on Dean and his brows slightly furrowed. He looked truly tense and he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink the whole time we’d been here. I lowered my eyes for a second and saw him wringing his hands in his lap, evidence of just how concerned he was. So, I gently put a reassuring hand on his forearm and he looked at me.

“Hey, it’s not the first time we’ve done something like this, right? Once she shows up, we’re gonna follow them outside and get rid of her. Everything’s gonna be fine. And Dean isn’t some random guy; he’s a hunter. He knows how to defend himself.” I told him, offering him a comforting smile that he accepted.

Sighing, he lowered his head and looked at his hands, probably thinking about my words. I wondered what else I could say to reassure him as he pushed a hand through his hair. He was worried and I understood that worry all too well, I was worried too. But before I could add anything, he nodded and straightened up, seemingly getting some of his confidence back.

“You’re right. It’s not our first time on a case like this. We just have to keep an eye on Dean and everything’s gonna be f-” Sam abruptly stopped speaking when he turned his head towards the counter.

The hunter immediately stood up and I quickly followed his movements, trying to understand what was going on. But when I turned around and saw the empty spot where Dean was supposed to be sitting, my eyes widened and my heart squeezed.

I quickly climbed out of the booth and scanned the crowd for Dean, pushing some people out of my way, cursing at them for not paying attention to the people around them. Once I finally reached his seat, I noticed a half-drunk martini with some red lipstick on the rim of the glass, and another glass half full of whiskey. There were some bills laying on the counter.

I turned around, hoping to see the hunter somewhere in the bar but unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. When a waitress walked pass me, I stopped her by carefully grabbing her elbow.

“Did you see the guy who was sitting here earlier?” I asked her quickly and she let a smile spread on her lips.

“Oh yeah, I saw him alright, he just left. He probably won’t spend the night alone. Lucky girl.” She said dreamily and I growled before hurrying to the door. I was hoping I wasn’t too late and that I’d find them both outside.

But the moment I stepped outside, I was only met with the darkness of the night. The warm and humid air crashed on my face and the only things I could see clearly were the constellations in the sky and a street lamp a few feet away from me, illuminating the parking lot. I quickly walked towards it, trying to locate the hunter. I let a small sigh of relief when I spotted the black Impala still parked there.

But there was still no sign of Dean.

I looked around for signs of a struggle near his beloved car but couldn’t see anything. But when I reached the black vehicle, I glimpsed something shining on the ground. I kneeled down and grabbed the shiny objects on the ground. When my fingers touched the cold keys, I sighed in defeat. Dean would never have abandoned his Baby, and he was always so careful with her keys, so if I found them on the ground, it could only mean that he’d left them here for us to find. I cursed myself for letting him be bait. It was never a good idea.

In one last attempt to see if he was still here, I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed. “Dean !”

It was a few seconds before I saw a familiar silhouette coming around from the back of the bar and jogging towards me. My breath stuck in my throat when the light illuminated Sam’s face. A bit out of breath, the tall hunter shook his head at me and my heart squeezed.

We’d lost him.

“Sam, calm down, please. I know what I’m doing.” I said to the nervous man in the driver’s seat next to me.

“But you said it yourself, it’s been a long time since you used this.” Sam replied, worry in his voice.

After making sure Dean wasn’t anywhere inside or outside of the bar, we tried to locate his phone, but unfortunately, it must have been broken or dead because we couldn’t find any signal coming from it.

So we needed another way to find the hunter. We considered interrogating the customers outside, but we both agreed that it would probably just be a waste of time rather than a real option. So, I decided to take the pendulum I always kept in my bag and use it as a homemade compass to guide us to Dean.

It was true that I hadn’t used such a magical object in a long time but I was truly convinced it would lead us to the missing Winchester. It was our only hope anyway. So, I raised the pendulum a little higher in front of me, observing its movements going from right to left then back and front.

Watching the object swing in all directions, a part of me worried that it was just swaying along with the movement of the car and that this weird gadget was going to be of no use. But another part of me, a stronger and more confident part, truly believed it would work. So, I concentrated harder on the enchanted, green pendant and murmured the words Lady Salina had taught me during my time with her.

“Amisi quod amo. Redi ad me quod amo.”

I felt Sam’s eyes on me, probably starting to translate the words, but I ignored him. The more I stared at the pendant the more I felt the magic Lady Salina had put into it, awakening.

I remembered the day she’d put a spell on it. It was a warm and sunny day like today and I was looking for a book my mom had given me. When I accepted the fact that I had lost it forever, the brown-haired witch had come to me and offered me this pendulum. She told me she’d enchanted this pendulum so it would lead me to where my heart truly was, and that if I properly repeated her words, it would guide me to my lost things or the ones that were stolen from me. But I had never used it to find a human before.

I chanted the words over and over again until the pendulum stopped moving and was drawn tight. I waited a second, looking at the pendant starting to glow until it suddenly pointed to the right.

“Turn to the right, Sam.” I said quickly, and the hunter drove the car where the pendulum was pointing.

Once we were on the right road, the pendulum clearly showed us the way, moving to the right or left, indicating to Sam the path he had to take. After about fifteen minutes, the magical object slowed down when we reached a dirt road.

We continued to drive for a few miles until we reached an old farm. The building looked completely abandoned but we both knew it wasn’t. Sam parked the Impala behind some trees and I let go of the pendulum; it had been pointing at the farm. Putting it back in my bag, I pulled my gun out and looked at Sam.

Taking a breath, he nodded at me and quietly got out of the car. I followed him to the trunk and he opened it, searching for the Witch Killing Bullets. I took some and loaded my gun with them. Sam did the same and carefully closed the trunk.

“I take the front, you take the back?” Sam whispered to me and I nodded.

“Be careful.” I told him and he nodded back before putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Watching Sam walking carefully to the front door, I took a deep breath and squeezed the weapon in my hand, before heading to the back of the barn. Everything was too quiet to be safe, not a bird was singing, no sounds of the forest were echoing far away. The only sound was // my boots crushing the gravel under my weight.

When I reached the back door, I stayed quiet, trying to hear if anyone was inside but unfortunately, I was only met with silence. So, I cautiously put a hand on the big wooden door and half opened it, aiming my gun in case of an attack.

But once again, nothing moved or made a sound.

When I entered the barn, my boots flattened some dry hay on my way, making it crunching sound. My weapon still raised, I carefully looked around. The rays of the moon slightly illuminating the area, not requiring my flashlight to be turned on. With a few more steps, I saw some chairs around a wooden table and noticed some vials, herbs of all kinds and an old grimoire. Everything needed for a good sacrifice.

But still no sign of life.

I continued my journey through the shed and the more I walked the more the smell of death filled my nostrils. I frowned at the scent and looked around, searching for this odor and hoping with all my heart that I wasn’t going to find any human body, but especially not Dean’s.

I distinguished a shape on a smaller table and walked to it, taking my flashlight out of my jacket.

I turned it on and immediately illuminated the table, cursing when it revealed a burst opened rabbit sitting on top. Bringing a hand to cover my mouth and my nose, I shook my head in disgust at the organs of the poor animal spread on the furniture.

“Ugh! So it’s a Sacrificing-Thumper kind of witch.” I whispered before continuing to inspect the place.

Once I made sure no one was there, I spotted another door with some warm light coming from under it. I walked to it, turning my flashlight off so I wouldn’t get caught, and carefully turned the knob. This time, the room was illuminated with candles, warming the place. But when I opened the door wider, the lights showed a long dark shadow on the wall opposite of me.

My heart beat faster while I entered the room, ready to shoot anything that moved. But when I took another step, I noticed the shadow wasn’t moving and was hanging by a thread – or maybe a rope.

My blood ran cold at the idea of finding Dean. No, it wasn’t an option. I wasn’t going to find his dead body and certainly not this way.

In a swift movement I turned to the left and found myself in front of the hanged body but instead of the horror I was preparing myself to see, I only met Dean’s broad shape hanging upside down and suspended by his feet. The rope tied his boots together and snaked down his body, holding his arms against his sides, preventing him from moving at all.

“Dean!” I yelled out recklessly before hurrying to the immobile man.

When I reached his side and the candles lit up my face, Dean turned his head, allowing me to see his red grumpy face. As simple as it was, this expression on his face brought me immense relief, because it meant that he wasn’t hurt or under a spell. He was just, understandably, upset.

Witches definitely had a thing for him.

“Muuuumuuum !” Dean tried to talk around the gag but the strip of cloth prevented him from making any sense.

I quickly grabbed the end of the fabric covering his mouth and undid the knot behind his head. Once he was free of it, Dean let a breath out and my heart finally slowed down.

“Son of a bitch! I told you!” He growled and I quickly covered his mouth with my hand, smiling at his grumpy face and he frowned at me.

He was definitely himself.

“I know, I know. You were right and it is definitely the kind of witch you don’t like but she’s still out there so stop making noise.” I told him and he nodded as much as he could.

I moved my hand away and scanned the area to try and find a way to bring him down without hurting him or making too much noise.

“Where is Sam?” Dean asked me, obviously worried about his brother.

I looked back at him and saw the concern on his features. Even when he was the one kidnapped, Dean was still always worried about his little brother.

“He took the front door; he’s probably taking care of the witch right now.” I explained, offering a reassuring smile.

Then I walked to a table and cleared off every object and paper on it, planning to use it to help Dean.

“I swear, I hate witches. I hate magic. Next time we have a case like this we give it to someone else. Maybe Garth, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” The elder hunter said as I tried to quietly pull the table towards him. The legs of the table creaked against the wooden floor and I cursed under my breath.

It wasn’t the time to draw attention.

“You know, magic saved your unsuperpower-y ass, ‘super-handsome’.” I sarcastically stated. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so close-minded about it; it can actually come in handy.”

He scoffed, probably thinking I was joking. But when I stopped and turned to glare at him, he understood I was serious.

“Really?” He asked slowly, a bit unsure, and I nodded, a little smile on my lips.

“Yep.” I answered, starting to pull the table again.

“So, you did put a spell on me after all.” He joked and I rolled my eyes, still tugging at the furniture, creating some high-pitched sounds every now and then.

“You’re an idiot.” I told him simply as I finally managed to get the table under his head.

Now that the furniture was under him, I would be able to untie him without making him fall to the ground from five feet in the air.

So, I climbed up on the table, testing the sturdiness of it before putting my feet on it too. I came closer to the tied-up hunter and kneeled under him. I grabbed the knife from my boot, and cut the ropes caging him. Carefully, I started to slice the rope next to his arm and before I could prevent myself, I let my thoughts out.

“Everything happened so fast, you disappeared so quickly. One second you were sitting at the counter and the next you were gone. But we were sure we’d lost you when we found Baby’s keys.” I explained, getting at the middle of the rope.

“Were you worried?” Dean asked and I bit my lip to prevent me from answering anything, acting like I was deeply focused on cutting the ropes without hurting him, which was true.

Dean must have sensed my reluctance to answer because he didn’t push, letting me work on the rope. Once one rope broke I started working on the one under it. The only sound heard was the blade against the fabric.

Until the hunter spoke up.

“You know… maybe I was a bit judgmental. With witches, I mean…” He started and I slowed down, lowering my head a little to see him better.

Dean wasn’t looking at me, his eyes glancing around the room for a second, trying to avoid my gaze.

“Oh yeah?” I answered and his eyes locked with mine sending a spark to my heart.

Still staring at me, the hunter licked his lips and slightly nodded at me.

“Yeah.” He said simply and the ropes around his torso broke, freeing his arms.

He let a grunt out when they fell and growled when he still couldn’t touch the table with his hands, his fingers inches from it. It was a bit funny to see him desperately try to reach it and I let out a little chuckle at the sight.

But I quickly stopped when his hands grabbed my waist, steadying himself and sending a shiver down my body. He let out a frustrated sigh , blowing some of my hair with his hot breath and I sat on the table to stabilize myself. When I raised my head, the older hunter was looking at me and hardly swallowed as his eyes met mine.

The green orbs stared at me and the flames reflecting in them made him look more beautiful than ever, even if his face was upside down and was starting to redden. The silence surrounding us created a new tension between us and I looked around, straightening up a little, trying to avoid this new feeling in my stomach.

But Dean cleared his throat, catching my attention again and when I looked at him again, he bit his lower lip.

“I have a confession to make.” He declared, licking his lips in a nervous way.

I rarely saw Dean, being shy and nervous, so I bit the inside of my cheeks to prevent myself from letting out a nervous laugh and possibly stopping him from opening up to me. I lowered myself as much as I could, so I could see him better, and I nodded to let him know I was listening. My heart beat a bit faster, my mind wondering, hopeful about what kind of confession he wanted to make.

Dean stared at me for a second before letting a little smile spread his full lips.

“You’ve got a funny face upside down like this.” He laughed and I rolled my eyes, annoyed at the fake revelation; a feeling of disappointment in my chest that I quickly tried to erase.

“You’re an idiot.” I said simply and naturally pushed his chest like every time he was being stupid. But this time, his hands lost their grip on my waist and he swung away from me.

“Crap.” I breathed out and jumped off the table to catch him but when he swung my way, his forehead hit mine and we both cursed. But at least I was able to stop him.

When he stopped swinging, I touched my forehead, closing my eyes, trying to ease the pain. I slowly rubbed the sensitive skin, hoping it wouldn't get too red. When the pain started to fade, I felt something warm touching my cheek and I suddenly opened my eyes, meeting Dean’s. A breath got stuck in my throat for a second when I noticed the sweet little smile tracing his lips.

“You didn’t hurt yourself too much, did you?” He softly asked and I smiled back at him, shaking my head. His thumb brushed my cheekbone in a gentle gesture.

“Nah, I have a hard skull.” I joked and he let out a little snort.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you have a little spell to ease your pain if needed.” He declared, an annoying smirk at the corner of his lips.

Letting a sigh escape, I rolled my eyes. Even when he was tied up, upside down and a bit hurt, Dean didn’t let go of the subject. And, to be honest, I’d had enough of this battle for the day.

“Listen. I know you despise and hate witches, that they clearly have a thing for you considering all the troubles you get into because of them, but can we let the topic go for today? I know your opinion on them but I just want to get you out of here, find Sam, get rid of her and go home.” I declared, willing to let him win for once if it meant he would shut up about it for a while.

Even if I didn’t consider myself a witch and knew he didn’t see me like one either, I was tired of fighting with him over the same thing for a whole day. I liked our bickering, it kept us entertained, but sometimes I just wanted a truce and stop arguing about such a silly thing. But maybe it was actually because I was a bit afraid that he truly, deeply hated them and everyone who had any kind of friendly behavior towards them.

I stepped back a little, my back hitting the table and Dean’s hand fell from my face.

“Hey, are you mad at me?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice.

I let a breath out and shook my head, looking back at him. I smiled slightly at his still upside-down face.

“No, of course not. I’ve just had enough of your hate for witches for today, if you wouldn’t mind.” I explained and Dean stared at me for a second, licking his bottom lip.

I ignored his eyes on me and sat back on the table, ready to take care of the others ropes. Dean shouldn’t stay upside-down for too long. So I grabbed my knife again and started to cut the ties around his torso, still not paying attention to the hunter’s gaze.

“You know… maybe witches don’t have a thing for me. Maybe I have a thing for them.” Dean broke the silence and I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Well, only for one of them, really.” He continued and I slowed down my movements a little, wondering where he was going with this.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confusion and wonder all over my face.

Dean clenched his jaw, looking away for a second, and I frowned. He’d had the same facial expression a few minutes ago just to mess with me. So, this time I stayed on my guard a little, not wanting to misunderstand his words again.

The hunter cleared his throat and bit his lip for moment before looking back at me. His eyes met mine and something in the way he looked at me seemed sincere. I furrowed my eyebrows again, waiting for Dean to explain what he meant by that. He pursed his lips like he was hesitating.

But then, as if he had a sudden burst of courage, Dean took a deep breath and properly locked eyes with me.

“Actually, she’s not a really a witch. But she knows the basics.” He simply said and something in my stomach made it tighten.

I froze, letting his words, words that echoed mine, sink in. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to burst in laughter, to make another joking comment. But nothing happened. Dean simply looked at me, his eyes quickly going from my right one to the other. Without my consent, my heart beat faster, quivering at the idea of the hunter saying he had a thing for me.

It was no secret that we were close but none of us had actually said something about it. He was the full hunter and I was the half witch, the two of us killing the same monsters but always finding ourselves in conflict over the same thing.

But at this moment, with the heavy silence he was letting linger over us and the lack of laughter, I couldn’t help but truly hope he was serious. Because if he was planning on showing me his cocky smile and giving me a stupid joke, it wouldn’t only be my hint of hope that he was breaking.

“Are you messing with me again?” I asked, not wanting disillusionment to hit me right in the face if all of this was just another prank.

But Dean answered my question with just a shake of his head and a sweet smile. I felt myself blush at the realization and my hands got a bit sweaty. Every ounce of worry and denial was gone the second he gave me this simple, gentle grin and like a school girl I pushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear.

“Really?” I whispered, needing a vocal confirmation from him.

“Yeah, really. I think I’ve had a thing for her for a while now.” He answered, his voice no louder than mine.

I slowly got off the table to be at the same height as him and this time a huge smile wreathed my face.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked him, getting a bit closer to him and he quickly nodded, eager to know.

“She may like a hunter too, and it’s not Sasquatch.” I told him and he let out a little laugh, a sigh of relief escaping him.

I smirked at the idea of Dean worrying a bit about whether I liked him or not. Even if it was truly stupid to think I didn’t. Even Sam was aware of the tension between us, not that either of us had confirmed that of course. But now we were actually declaring the attraction we had for each other. No jokes. No misunderstanding. Only truth and shyness in our confessions.

The hand of the hunter interrupted my thoughts, a warm palm landing on my shoulder and a finger caressing my chin. I raised my head and the light of the candles illuminated the freckles on his soft skin, the flames reflecting in his green iris and creating some golden rings around his pupils. My breath got jammed in my throat at the sight.

Dean Winchester was truly handsome, no matter the lighting or his position.

Without adding another word, Dean gently pulled on my shoulder to bring me closer to him and my feet gladly lead me towards the hunter. For a second we looked at each other, hesitation and want clear in our eyes. The older brother and I had never looked at each other this way and a thrill// ran down my spine.

Still silent and without even thinking about my action, I raised my hands to his face and gently cupped it. Dean didn’t move at all, his green orbs staring at me and I started to lean towards him. When I didn’t sense any disagreement in his eyes, I smiled and he copied me, smiling wide.

In an instant, my face was inches away from his and I felt his hot breath landing on my lips, tickling them. I let my fingers brush his cheeks, caressing the freckles on them and Dean’s hands slide down my body, stopping on my waist as much as he could. Then, as if a mystical force had pushed me forward, my lips crashed onto Dean’s.

My nose bumped against his chin and his brushed the top of my throat. My hands flat against his cheeks, I slowly opened my mouth, catching his upper lip between mine. The moment I felt his calloused palms roaming on my body and the tip of his tongue asking for permission, a bright warmth invaded my body, sending an electrical wave from my belly to the hair on the back of my neck.

Our lips molded against each other, the kiss slow but deepening with every movement of our heads. I could have gotten lost in his kisses forever.

We had never crossed that line before. Sure, we’d had some lingering touches from time to time but now that I knew how his lips felt against mine, I was afraid I could never stop doing it. I could never stop feeling them brush mine, his tongue battling against mine for dominance even though I would gladly let him win if it meant he would kiss me all day and night from now on. I was afraid that I could never let him go now that I had been that close to him.

Dean let a small groan out as I unconsciously sucked at his bottom lip and I smiled against the plump pillows that were his lips. The hunter tried to kiss me harder but I was still holding his head between my palms, controlling his movements. I felt him complain when he tightened his grip on my t-shirt.

I couldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t enjoying the sense of power I had over him at the moment.

I let my fingers spread through his spiky hair at the base of his neck, enjoying every lock brushing my soft skin and, surprisingly, I felt him relax against my touch. Dean could easily get on my nerves because of a stupid grin, but he could also melt my heart with a simple sigh of relaxation. The hunter spent so much time on edge, worried and focused on everyone’s safety, that feeling him let his guard down under my hands was a blessing.

My thoughts were abruptly stopped when I heard two gunshots far away.

Immediately pulling away – panting – Dean and I stared at each other, eyes wide opened. The only emotion passing through the hunter’s eyes was fear, complete and dreadful fear. My heart beat faster but not thanks to the man in front of me this time.

“Sammy.” We called out at the same time, panic clear in our voices.

Without wasting a second, Dean grabbed the ropes around his body and pulled at them, desperately trying to break them. With the strength he always got when Sam was in danger, I thought for moment that he was actually going to break them with his bare hands. But unfortunately, he didn’t succeed and shouted in frustration, making me flinch.

“Get them the fuck off of me!” He yelled, frenetically moving, his body swinging a little from one side to the other.

I immediately got on the table and quickly used the knife against the ropes around his body, some dust of the fabric falling in his eyes but the hunter couldn’t care less at this moment. I hurried to free him of those links but my hands couldn’t move fast enough, making Dean growl and wriggle against the ropes.

Then finally, they broke.

The ropes fell from his torso, landing on the ground and without waiting a second, the hunter curled up to reach his feet, in order to undo the knots at his ankles. A sharp breath got stuck in my throat when I realized the strength Dean needed – and clearly had – to be able to contract his abs this way and touch his feet.

Watching Dean almost shaking in his panic, I tried to rationalize the situation, thinking that witches used spells to kill, not guns. So, it was more likely that the sound we heard was Sam shooting the witch and not the other way around. Yeah, it was the only solution.

I was about to say this to the man in front of me to try and call him down a little, to reassure him on his brother’s condition when we heard someone outside.

“Dean? Y/N?” The younger brother yelled from the other side of the barn and I let a loud sigh of relief escape. Dean let go of his ankles and quickly let himself fall back, closing his eyes; he looked reassured by the sound of his brother’s voice.

I turned towards the door and yelled back to Sam.

“We’re in the barn!”

Then some running sounds were heard, indicating that the hunter had heard me and was now heading to the barn.

“Thank God.” Dean whispered next to me and I looked back at him.

His eyes were still closed, probably too afraid that if he opened them now I would see how worried he had been for a second. But truth was, I had been scared too. So I simply let my index finger graze his cheek, and then get lost in his hair in a comforting gesture, letting him know that I’d felt the same way. The hunter opened his eyes and I immediately knew he had understood me.

He offered me a small smile that I immediately gave back.

“Come on, Peter Parker let’s get you down, shall we?” I told him in a mocking tone and the hunter mumbled under his breath, making a face.

I let out a chuckle and stepped back up on the table, straightening to grasp the knots around his boots. The hunter tried to touch the table but once again, he was too high to do so. Undoing the first knot, I heard the door slam open and someone panting behind me. I quickly turned around and spotted the younger Winchester, his chest raising and falling rapidly, out of breath, his gun in his large hand. I smiled in relief and he nodded at me.

We were all very glad that everyone was alive.

Then Sam noticed his brother behind me and burst into laughter, his voice higher while he was slightly bent, laughing. When he didn’t stop, I couldn’t help but join him, my cheeks hurting as I smiled widely. Of course, the suspended man didn’t find this funny at all and grumbled in annoyance, trying to undo the rope himself again as I had stopped, too busy making fun of him.

“Ugh, will you stop and help me?” He asked, clearly not happy.

“Ahah! So much for the great responsibility, man. Still wanna be bait next time?” Sam asked his brother, who finally let go of his feet, letting out a frustrated breath.

“Screw you.” Dean said and I shook my head, amused by the brothers.

Then I decided to finally put him out of his misery and found the last knot holding him.

“Watch out for your head.” I said quickly and before Dean could finish the ‘what’ escaping his lips, I undid the last ropes and he let out a small scream when he felt himself fall.

In an instinctive reaction, my hands reached for the falling hunter and in a reflex gesture he grabbed me back, dragging me down with him. I let a yelp escape me and suddenly felt myself hit a firm surface.

When I opened the eyes I hadn’t even realized I’d closed in the first place, I met some green orbs. I let a shy smile spread across my lips when I realized I was laying on top of the strong hunter. Dean’s arms were securely wrapped around my body, his hands holding me against him. Even if he had brought me along in his fall, Dean’s back had taken all the pain, preventing me from getting hurt.

I slowly moved to have a better look at him and he furrowed his eyebrows, showing that he had definitely hurt himself in the process. My face softened at this and I gently rubbed his shoulder with my thumb, giving him some comfort.

“Still alive?” Sam asked on the other side of the table and I realized that Dean hadn’t just hit the floor but also the table on his way down. I chuckled, raising my head towards Sam.

“Yeah, I had a shock absorber.” I answered and looked back at Dean who was trying to get up. But when he moved, the pain in his back must have woken up as he frowned, slightly grunting.

He managed to sit up, his hands leaving my body and pressing to the ground to steady himself. I was now sitting on his lap and I felt a warmth invading my stomach and spreading to my cheeks. Dean hissed when he completely straightened and his face lost the redness of all the blood that had rushed into his head while he was upside down. Then he brought one of his hands behind him, rubbing the ache in his back.

Gently, my palm landed on his torso and he immediately stared at me. I smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I have a spell for back pain.” I told him with a wink.

The hunter blessed me with a huge grin, making the wrinkles around his eyes appear and I blushed at how cute he was in this moment. Dean put his hands back on my hips and drew some circles with his thumbs.

“I’m saved then, lovely Witch.” He answered simply.

The look in his eyes was different this time. There was still the usual mischief, of course, but something was hidden behind it. Something like peace of mind and trust. And all of this was for the girl who loved to be right and get on his nerves. For the half witch he always loved to annoy and pretend to dislike. For the one who always helped him on hunt and made sure he was alright after a rough one. For the girl who shared her fries with him but ate his pie. For the one who teamed up with Sammy to upset him but loved to go on drive in his Baby.

It was all for me.

Maybe I was going to have what those one nightstands couldn’t have after all.

All of him.

Taglist : @emilielbls @avanatural @awkward-and-indecisive @waynes-multiverse @roonyxx @akshi8278 @snowlovespie @thoughts-and-funnies @siospins2

#Don't Mess With Witches #avanaturals300celebration #Dean x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean x you #Dean x y/n #supernatural os #Supernatural fanfic #spn os #spn fanfic #Dean Winchester Fanfic

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vibratingskull · 7 months

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A Lasting Home for the Force Inhibitors

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

Tags : Fluff, crack

FemaleReader x Thrawn

You come aboard the Chimaera as per Thrawn request, here you’re being task to build a strange contraption for his “answer to a spiky problem”

“Welcome, Lieutenant Commander (y/l/n). Admiral Thrawn asked me to escort you to his office in the Chimaera.” Hands clasped behind her back, the Commodore Faro salutes you in those early hours of the afternoon.

The Chimaera is currently under repairs at the dockyard and the different officier saw their agenda alleviate substantially.

“Alright. I’ll follow you.”

She stands aside and gestures to you to advance to the footbridge. This is perfectly useless, of course, all ISD follow the same plan and you can walk to any important office on board yourself. But the protocol asks for you to be escorted by an officer of the ship. You walk side by side in silence, the young recruits getting out of your way and saluting you. You keep an impassive expression, but interiorly savor these marks of respect. Now, now, don’t let it get to you.

You finally arrive at Thrawn’s office, guarded by two stormtroopers. You give them your cylinder code and they let you pass the door. As soon as the door shuts down, Karyn throws herself at you. You embrace her with all your might, almost making her take off the ground.

“My dear!” You say a bit strangled by her hug. “When was the last time we saw each other?”

“Too long (y/n), way too long. We have so much to talk about!”

“It is pleasant to see such comradery within the rank of the Marine, but I doubt this is the place.” A calm voice rises behind you.

Thrawn comes closer with a thin smile and what you think is a hint of amusement in the eyes. You part from Karyn, almost painfully, and adjust yourself in front of your superior with a smile badly contained.

“You are right sir, sorry sir.” You concede.

Karyn put a strand of hair behind her hair, failing to hide her smile too. Behind Thrawn another figure draws itself.

“(Y/n)!”

“Eli.”

Your smile dies a bit, but you make the conscious effort of appearing enthusiastic. He hugs you too and you give him back his embrace, although a bit rigid. You look at your three friends reunited.

“Well, the whole gang's here!” clearly forgetting that they were all your superiors.

“She’s right, when was the last time we were all four together?” Karyn demands..

“Surely back at the Academy, so almost nine years ago.” Eli recalls, holding his chin.

“Well. I wanted to reunite… the gang one last time.” Thrawn’s soft voice calling you all to calm down. “I figured a little manual activity was the perfect occasion.”

One last time? What does he mean by that? Next to him Eli slowly nods. What have these two prepared?

It’s only now that you notice all the mess in the office, some metal boxes, some tools, some transparisteel panels, a bag of gravel…

“What’s with all of that?” You ask.

“It is for the activity. I will shortly receive a precious package and need a space to store it in my office.”

You grin and side-eye him.

“You know you have workers for those sorts of things.”

“It would not be as much fun as with friends. Plus I will need your interior design talents.”

Everyone arms themself with a tool and you open the plan. You spend all afternoon screwing, bolting, assembling what looks like an aquarium.

“You got some pet snakes, sir?” You ask.

“Or something close.” He answers with an enigmatic tone.

The situation is hilarious, look at those four officers of the most powerful Empire troubling to assemble a glass box, albeit it’s the wagon that was the most troubling.

“Why are those notices never in basic?” Eli grumbles

“Is it normal that there are more screws than necessary?” Karyn asks, scratching her temple.

“No it’s not, we must have skipped a step. We have to redo it.” You announce.

You were laughing with her when Thrawn’s comlink rang.

“The package is here. Commander Vanto, Commodore Faro, do you mind retrieving it for me?” He spins towards the group.

They both exit the room, leaving you alone with Thrawn. Your laugh finishes in a deep contented sigh as you continue trying to assemble that damn vivarium. Thrawn comes to help you.

“Did you start your investigation?”

So that’s why he sent them both.

“Well, I didn’t have time to collect anything potent in one week, but I’m paying close attention to Admiral Konstantine, do not worry.”

“I am not worrying, I fully trust your competences in this field. Like I said, you would have been a great ISB agent.”

“Speaking of ISB, thank you for reminding me of Colonel Yularen. He agreed to see me as soon as your name left my mouth.”

“I hope he will prove himself as useful to you as he has always been to me.”

“I hope too, because it's a big fish I asked him to hook.”

He raises his head to you with clear interest on his face. By reflex you look around the office and lower your voice.

“I suspect one of the rear admirals to help pirates stealing resources of the Empire, I had my doubts for some time now but I finally got enough intel to present an investigation demand to the bureau.”

He grins.

“See? You would have been a brilliant agent.”

“Surely better than a officier.” You sigh.

He raises his eyebrow with an inquisitive gaze.

“What might make you say that?”

You sigh again, your gaze lost in space.

“It’s been a while now since my last promotion, even Karyn overtook me and is already a Commodore. I think I’m in the same position Eli was when politicians hold him back. Even Arzel pushes to propel me.”

“Why don’t you accept?”

“It’s a political game, those services are rarely free.”

“He’s your fiance.” He says that with a weird tone.

You shook your head. He really doesn’t get politics.

“He’s a politician first and foremost. And if there is indeed a coalition to prevent me from advancing in my career, it could cost him too.”

“They holded Eli back because he is my aid. Why would they block you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re still pissed at me for what happened with the Zephyr. Maybe…”

A horrifying idea crosses your mind.

“Do you think they might have discovered about my family?”

You look at him horrified. Your hand that holds the screw-gun starts trembling. He raises to your level and puts his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner.

“You are an honorable member of the Marine, you do your duty with due diligence. They have no reason to pry in your past.”

He takes the gun before you hurt yourself and. wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“As for your career, I am sure it is just an empty moment that will soon pass. Your talent will have their moments to shine and they will be forced to recognize your merit.”

It’s a vain wish. You snuggle against him, appreciating the embrace of a friend, and a bit more, if you’re perfectly honest. A moment passes before he clears his throat and part from you.

“This is how we do it, let me show you.”

And like that he bolts the screws with ease.

“You could have totally assembled that thing alone, couldn't you?” You realize

“Like I said, it would not have been as fun without friends.” He smiles at you.

It forces a chuckle out of you. You guess this is how he shows his appreciation. You both put the aquarium on the wagon.

“And now the fun part.” He hands you the gravel bag and some plants “Decoration.”

He pours the gravel as you place some branches and some exotic plants. For what does he need all that? The tank is massive and elongated, he must have commanded a really big pet or several medium size ones.

You don’t have to wonder too long for Karyn and Eli came back with a large box.

“Sir, we have it!”

“Perfect. Put the box next to the aquarium.” Thrawn explains

Your curiosity is at its outbreak as he inserts his plaque to the port to open the newly arrived box. He leans forward and takes out a weird fizzy lizard. You instantly melt.

“Aw they’re adorable!” You rush to the box to take the second one “Hello, you.”

Eli and Karyn stay at a more reasonable distance, aware of their fangs. You scratch its forehead and coo at it with heart eyes, and hold it like a baby. It looks at you and burps, unashamed of itself, making you laugh.

“What are they?” You ask.

Thrawn walks to the side to let you admire his new lizard statue, you understand.

“Those are ysalamiri.” He explains, scratching its soft tummy “And the answer of a spiky problem we might face in the future.”

He put it delicately in the glass cage, on a branch that it immediately seizes like its life depends on it. You have no idea how a lizard could be useful but they’re cute so you’re in.

“They do not do well detached from their branches.” He warns you

You immediately put it in and it does the same. You lean forward to observe them through the transparisteel, Eli comes to your left, and Karyn to your right, Thrawn at the other side of the tank. Seeing you all four like that makes you grin, but it’s true those lizards make for really cute creatures. You all push the tank slowly to the wall’s enclave and see the ysalamiri in their new home.

“Well, you are now the father of two beautiful children!” You nudge Thrawn.

He side-eyes you.

“Do not exaggerate, those are assets to assure the Empire’s prosperity.”

You snort.

“Oh come on! Don’t tell me those eyes don’t melt your heart?” You point at the tank.

“They melt mine!” Karyn enthusiastically says.

Eli chuckles.

“They have a specific task to accomplish, any other aspect is irrelevant.” Thrawn shakes his head.

“Fine! Then I will be their aunt.” You decide, you start baby talking to the ysalamiri. “Don’t worry my babies, I will take good care of you.”

“Do not refer to them as babies, they are full grown adults.”

You pout.

“You’re gonna name them, at least?”

“No.”

You turn to him, horrified.

“No?”

He looks at you with a stern expression..

“Then I will name them myself!” You support his gaze.

Karyn and Eli’s eyes navigate from you to Thrawn, holding their breath. He let a small sigh escape him.

“If it entertains you…”

You grin, satisfied.

“Let’s see…” You look at the ysalamiri, admiring them hugging each other and rubbing their forehead. “The female will be… Rosu. And the male, Avaz.”

“Do those names have significance?” Thrawn asks.

“They do, but since you didn’t want to name them it will be useless to you, sir.” You decide, crossing your arms.

Eli pouts and Karyn shakes her head. If Thrawn is irritated he doesn’t let show a sign of it. You’re all together around the tank, looking at the ysalamiri with different shades of enamored until Thrawn’s soft voice rise again.

“It is time. Your shift is over.”

You raise like one man, you try to crack your spine while Karyn rolls her head.

“I need to look at some data before leaving.” Eli announces and leaves the office after tilting his head.

You loop your arm with Karyn’s with a complicit grin.

“I’ll invite you for a drink. We have so much to talk about.” You turn towards Thrawn one last time. “I’ll borrow your Commodore if you don’t mind, sir.”

He bow his head slighly.

“Do that.”

You both salute him as you should and exit the office, leaving him behind alone.

_______________________________________________________

Thrawn finishes to read the data and the files, he decides to leave his desk for a stretch. As he walks by the ysalamiri, he stops to observe them. They are peacefully sleeping on one another, the tip of their tongue out of their mouth.

“Avaz and Rosu…” He whispers to himself.

And unbeknownst to him, a thin smile comes creeping on his face as he remembers you holding them like babies.

Maybe those little creatures could crawl inside his heart after all…

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin

@ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton

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heyagrouchy · 11 days

Text

B12 headcanons even though no one asked (more random facts based than lore based)

georgie

- seems like one of those guys who make cringe pov tiktoks

- playboy type of guy

- gives "helpful" relationship advice but all his relationships either end really quickly or drag out too long

- gymbro, shows off his muscles to the other members

- tried to act all tough and cool but immediately gets flustered when someone even acts the slightest bit sweet to him

- georgie is just his nickname, he never got over how cringey it sounded especially for his whole persona, but it's what his mom call him and he can't make lose the nickname his mom gave him

- seems very chill, easy to get along with

- had a very close relationship with his sister, therefore treats girls like goddesses (in other words, with respect)

- kinda insecure about his hairline so he hides it with his huge hats

- kind of guy who had bad taste in clothing, wears the most random stuff

parker

- soft baby boi

- likes to sew his own clothes (the other members make fun of him for this, but he doesn't seem to mind)

- only joined the boyband business so he could exploit his looks and earn money

- an artistic kid, he used to show his drawings to his parents (albeit they all ended up in the trash)

- extroverted growing up, so doesn't know the concept of boundaries (he's trying though)

- gives the other band members shitty nicknames based on their appearance

- had neglectful parents, therefore always trying to get attention from someone, anyone

victor

- tomboy

- doesn't have a mother so she ended the way she is today

- sort of a loudmouth, can't shut up about things she's passionate about

- had a lot of brothers, only girl in the family

- mostly wears hand me downs from her brothers

- can put up a fight if desired, once beat up an entire gang

- georgie's teaching her how to become a gymbro

abraham

- incredibly introverted, took a little while for him to settle in

- likes doing mundane activities like organising and cataloging, pretty much helps keep the group on track of upcoming tasks

- lacks in self confidence so he doesn't believe it when he achieves something really big

- boris is his best friend (can't convince me otherwise), they just fit together

- the most rational out of everyone

boris

- incredibly extroverted (even more than parker)

- one of those guys who takes sports WAY too seriously

- plays soccer (or basically any sport) with victor and always loses, despite being a self-proclaimed sports geek

- was once a member of a gang, still wears his old clothes from said gang

- no one takes him seriously and he hates it

- really close with abraham, the neutralizer to his overreacting personality

- usually the one to start fights between the band, usually over something stupid

abraham h

- GAY

- not very approachable because of his resting bitch face

- doesn't like interacting with anyone that much, just generally a silent guy (except when he's ranting or blowing up on everyone)

- the dad of the band, almost always lectures everyone on their behavior like they're children

- legit gets migraines when he sees tj's outfits for the day

- swears... a lot

- argues a lot with boris, they hate each other

constantine

- no one can convince me that he's not trans

- used to have pin straight spiky hair and hated it so much, used lots of product to get fluffy hair he wanted, though it damaged his hair a bit...

- has a reallly fancy name but just sticks to one

- when he was younger, he had a hyperfixation that involved paegants, who knows why

- definitely a queen fan, i can just see it

- used to čüt himself when he was stressed, now his scars are healing

- loves wearing oversized clothing, but hides it from the band

- had an emo phase durning high school

#b12 american dad #american dad #boyz 12 #headcanon

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warriorssurvivalandstuff · 1 year

Text

My Omori catify nonsense.

Aubrey, Basil, Mari Hero, Sunny, Kel

Aubrey: Black amber tortie Basil: Fawn calico Mari: Black smoke Hero: Chocolate golden marbled tabby Sunny: Black with low white Kel: Red classic tabby, minimal white

Design notes (extremely long, image heavy, and fancy cat patterns heavy) and concepts under cut.

Aubrey is based off non-agouti (genetically solid) black amber, made tortoiseshell. Amber is a trait in the Norwegian Forest breed which causes most of the cat to change colour from black/browns to a red/orangish colour starting at around three months old. Using this to drastically change her look somewhat suitably for the timeskip, because just using hair dye is boring. As for why tortoiseshell, she gets associated with fire a lot and for "scars/wounds", which the red splotches are styled to resemble, meant to give her a tough look. There might be something in how they're less distinct post-colour change. The red end of her tail vaguely resembles Basil's. Stripes on the tail curve towards the tip like flames. For non-colour features, she has spiky lines and ear tufts. The tufts are red for the fire look. Maybe I should've just gone with orange eyes instead of yellow but I wanted to them all to have different colours, and Kel had to get orange. Yellow works fine enough for fire and is the cartoon star colour, starry eyed in (more) youth.

Onto Basil, he's a fawn calico, fawn, cream, and white. Cream is an obvious choice to match his blond hair, while the fawn is meant to resemble dead moss as a mirror to his headspace design, and I did just basically copy his hair over directly. Not too pleased with it. Dewclaws and the bottom of his paws are also free of white for green thumbs/muddy look. The fawn end of his tail vaguely resembles Aubrey's as said above. Also fun fact, tortoiseshell/calico cats cannot be AMAB without some sort of mutation or chimerism. While I did not mistake him for a girl, a ton of people did so I thought I'd carry it over here. Broken mackerel stripes for the tendrils his Something has, and his tail stripes slant towards the tip like leaf venation. The high degree of white was mostly to not have mottling (look, I try to go for as much realism as I can), it was just about the generic bicolour pattern until I thought to spike up the flank region as Something's teeth and to stick a daisy above his left eye. His fur is arranged to look like a perpetually soaked creature, and his ear tufts also droop. Some fur on his back curls like dicot sprouts and his weird hair tufts.

Kel gets two designs as well, not because of some colour change shenanigans, but my indecision. One is chocolate tortoiseshell classic tabby and the other forgoes the chocolate, being just red classic tabby. The mix of brown and orange evokes orange joe, more brown above since it looks like espresso floats on orange juice and like a tan, and I did mistake him for a girl at first. But I wanted to have Aubrey and Basil match in being the only torties, as a sibling theme (headcanon). Classic tabby for the signature bullseye pattern, ballin'. Being tortoiseshell also allows me to draw actual basketballs on him, even if I only did it for the flank one. Honestly the rest of the tortie mottling is just random, not planning on replicating them accurately ever. He has very small amounts of white, the toes and locket. It's meant to reflect his jersey and sneakers' white patterns. His line style/fur tufts are round like his hair.

As for Hero, he is a chocolate golden marbled tabby. Golden because he's the golden child. If Kel is tortoiseshell, they match by being chocolate. Marbled tabby allows me to crudely draw roses with nigh 0 reproducibility plus rosettes, instead of just rosetted tabby. The roses are on his flank and one upright on his foreleg. It is also classic tabby with the Bengal modifier, so he and Kel match here, tortie or not. His fur tufts come in threes, like his hair. Crimson chin when stylised.

Sunny is very basic for his colours, just a solid black with (unusual) white spotting. Mewo dictated he and Mari be black cats. His white is placed more deliberately, a cloud on the head, collar and socks that reflect his clothing, and the rest completes the tuxedo look. The fact that his muzzle and collar line up to look like Something was unplanned but welcome. His eyes are sun coloured. Based his build off of Oriental Shorthairs for the scrawniness. The end of his tail splits into two tufts to reflect his weird hair tufts.

Last but not least, Mari who is a black smoke. Like Sunny, she is solid black. It's got the ghostly quality and when tabby stripes are visible on smokes, they're called ghost markings. She has those on her face, very unsubtly music staff with two semiquaver notes. The gene that causes smoke in solid cats turns tabbies into silver tabbies, so she is in a way, silver, matching Hero's golden. Her fur style is smoke/vapour, the ghostly quality again. She also has the Oriental headshape to match Sunny. I considered having her be silver shaded instead for the white dress spirit Mari is pictured in but that would make her and Sunny look very different. Included as an alt, anyway.

All of them together. The base here (and above) is by Reevees on DA.

Old concepting headshots, dates a few years back. They have the different versions of Kel and Aubrey. Sunny and Mari are kept just about the same, while the others have more notable changes.

Headspace full designs will come in some time... three years? Dunno. Hero's palette will change completely.

Old line styling test, only Aubrey, Basil, and Sunny. Older and young.

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cornedbread · 11 months

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What art app you used? And what art style you used?

I use these four programs. Flipaclip for animating; Capcut for editing; Autodesk Sketchbook for illustrating; Pixel Studio for pixel art.

As for why my art looks the way it does, the philosophy for it is, “Modern cartoon design theory + Cartoon logic + Shoujou-Shonen anime aesthetics.”

If you were reffering to who or what influenced me to draw like this, I honestly have no idea ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This also isn’t the only way I draw, but it’s definitely my most common method. In fact, it’s the only method you see me draw in. The times when I do draw with a different method aren’t made public because they aren’t BBAU related — unless, you’re interested…? Then I could post some of my favourites.

Here’s some character concept sheets for a little more insight into my thinking process. The left side was made in 2021, the right side was made in 2023. As I said, I like utilising modern cartoon design theory. So I make sure each character has at least one recogniseable shape, that way all the designs are very distinct. And then I build on that cartoony exageraated model with some anime aesthetics. Simplified body parts contrasted by detailed clothes, face and hair. (Each of the sheets are made for one character, despite there being two models) You can see this philosophy be brought onto my BBAU drawings aswell. Billy with his short height and blocky hair; Alex with his tall stature, long limbs and bowl cut; Olivia with her giant braids/wolfcut and spiky shirt.

As for backgrounds, I don’t know what my art style phlosophy for it is. Also I don’t have any concept art since I just wing-it and remember all the details from memory. I don’t like neglecting backgrounds, since I see them as an extension of the character or a character themself. Though I will admit, I have cheated by covering the background with a bunch of characters or foreground to hide my lack of effort in designing.

#canned asks #corny creations #oc concept #character sheet #oc character #character design #background design #background drawing

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smoments · 6 months

Text

✧ part 6: memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

chapter 6: the way it should have been

“It’s about this project that I’m technically supposed to be almost done with, right? But... I actually kind of procrastinated since usually inspiration eventually comes to me, and guess what…”

He grimaces at how weightless his words sound as Suguru admonishes him, his tone gentle.

“Satoru, you know that’s no good. You’ll get burned out if you always leave your work until the last minute.”

“Haha, right? But it’s fine now, because I can just ask you.”

Suguru blinks, and color rises to his face, his lips parting slightly. It’s the kind of thing Satoru would notice if he were looking directly at him - however, his inquisitive gaze is focused elsewhere, his eyes darting around the supposedly empty space.

“…um, one second, I suddenly feel judged.”

He narrows his eyes, scoping out the park for the source of this unpleasant energy, and finally notices the little boy sitting on the swing set on the opposite end of the mulch. Apparently sensing someone's attention on him, the kid looks up from his open book and meets his eyes, and Satoru gets a good look at his face (one that probably isn’t necessary given how distinguishing his hair is; it’s all black and spiky, like a porcupine is on his head or something). Satoru lifts his hands into a high-five position to make creepy claw-like gestures with his fingers, as if trying to draw him in.

“Woah, you’re that kid from before!“

“…”

“Are you a pedophile?”

Suguru chokes on air, and Satoru’s mouth drops open.

“Huh!?! How do you even- Wait, why just me? He’s here too!”

The child’s eyes flick between the two of them, and he gives Satoru a plain look that only fuels Suguru’s laughter. Satoru, who doesn't think he looks much like a pedophile at all, glares at him before pulling a face at the kid.

“Where’s your dad, anyway?”

He doesn’t mean it as a personal attack (he’s not that horrible of a person), but then he remembers his interaction with said father and reconsiders whether he might have been a little too on the mark.

“He isn’t here anymore.”

And though he’d been right, when he hears the finality with which the kid says these words, his mouth works faster than his brain.

“You kille-“

“Satoru!”

(Thankfully for him, Suguru is quicker than either one.)

The boy blinks at him like he’s stupid.

“No, he left.”

“…Oh. That’s rough.”

“It’s really not. Did you see him?”

Satoru knows that his careless words probably aren’t a complete bluff, but it also kind of bothers him that this little kid has to talk about his dad being a scumbag with such a stony look in his eyes, as though he’s completely removed from the situation.

And perhaps he reminds him a little bit of himself as a child; that flat stare and precocious way of speaking in particular (Shoko says he aged in reverse, since neither sound much like his current self).

But only a little bit.

Of course, he doesn’t voice any of this, because he doesn’t think it would translate over well into his general way of speaking. He goes for something a little less melodramatic.

“So, how’s that… living situation, kid? Megumi, right?”

Satoru actually likes instant ramen, himself, but hearing Megumi tell them that it’s what he had been planning for dinner with his sister out for the evening paints such a depressing picture that he really has no other choice than to do something about it.

Suguru seems slightly concerned, and he addresses his worries to Satoru in a low voice as they traverse a busy street with Megumi sandwiched between them.

“Satoru, it might not be a good idea to encourage him to follow strangers.”

Satoru completely glosses over his hushed tone, responding loudly and self-assuredly.

“Don’t worry, he’s old enough that he knows better. Plus, we’re not strangers! He’s met us before!”

Satoru reaches down and ruffles Megumi’s hair quickly enough that he can’t jerk away, finding that it’s surprisingly soft despite appearances - though it also springs right back into place, which he finds so hilarious that he has to resist the urge to mess it up again.

Megumi needlessly smooths his head down with one hand, looking annoyed but remaining silent, and Suguru winks at him conspiratorially.

“Smart kid. He’s taking us for food, after all.”

Megumi glances up at Suguru, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, you’re teaming up against me already?”

“Alright, kid, breasts or thighs? Satoru, stop laughing.”

“I’m not!”

“They also have wings… hmm. Do you like spicy food?”

Megumi shifts his face from Suguru to scrutinize the menu, his expression slightly less guarded.

“…I can eat spicy food.” He mumbles, looking away like he’s trying not to sound too proud of himself, and he looks so childlike in that moment, somehow- perhaps in that way that little kids do when they try to replicate adult mannerisms, but only succeed in emphasizing their naivety. This moment of innocence poses quite the contrast to his normal monotony - so much so that even Satoru stops snickering to listen.

“Yeah?” Suguru grins at him. “Me too, man. Wanna order the family meal, then? As Satoru has established, he doesn’t care what we get as long as it comes with biscuits.”

Satoru peers up at him through his dark sunglasses, his hands comfortably resting behind his head.

“Dude, have you had KFC biscuits?”

“Mm, they’re kind of dry.”

“Well, more for me, then. Whaddya think, Megumi?”

“…You can have them.”

“Yes!” He cheers, laying on the enthusiasm thick for the sake of the kid’s entertainment, and Megumi covers his mouth with his arm to stifle what might have been a giggle.

Satoru would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart melt a little, even if he’s the one being laughed at - but Suguru is looking at him too, now, a crooked smile on his face, and he’s used to being the center of attention, but he feels suddenly embarrassed and announces that he’s going to go place the order. He notices his phone screen is lit up when he gets back to their table, and he slumps onto the seat as he checks it, throwing his arm over the back of the couch.

“Oh, it’s Shoko.”

His eyes widen as he scrolls through his new messages, and Suguru glances up, tilting his head curiously.

“Mm… they’re leaving, and… sh- crap. I left my stuff there.”

Megumi looks up from the menu, his tiny fingers curled around the edges of the booklet, which covers the lower half of his face completely.

“I don’t care if you swear.”

Satoru gasps, scandalized.

“You shouldn’t even know that word!”

“I’m seven, not a kid.”

“Oh, good point. Anyways, apparently Nanami dropped it off at my dorm. How nice! And… that’s weird. He was curious about what it was inspired by? Since when is he that nosy?”

“The one you had at lunch, with the betta fish? Hey, I was wondering that too.”

“Suguru, there is no thought process in art. You simply create from your heart.” He pats himself on the chest proudly for coming up with such a beautiful line and then adjusts his sunglasses with two fingers, sliding them up to sit at the top of his head as he thinks back to the painting - how whenever he stared at it for a second too long, a vague sense of discomfort stirred in his chest.

Before either of them can speak, Megumi pipes up.

“That’s our order number. That lady in the red shirt is calling it.”

He raises an eyebrow at the little boy, slightly relieved at the change in conversation, and nods in understanding.

“Wanna come help us pick it up?”

Satoru’s appetite has somewhat diminished by the time that they've successfully set up and are surveying the steaming spread laid out in front of them, but he’s never been one to say no to KFC biscuits, so he picks one off the tray anyway, the wax paper underneath crinkling with the movement.

“Megumi, I thought you could eat spicy food?” He teases as he watches him tear up over the chicken.

“I can. This isn’t even spicy. Tsumiki makes food way more spicy than this.”

Megumi coughs lightly, taking a break from the main course to sip from his glass of ice water, and Satoru rests his chin in a hand, a smirk on his lips. His gaze drifts to Suguru, dipping a fry into his ketchup and laughing at Megumi’s barely contained struggling, and his own features curve into a silly grin.

Maybe he could get used to this.

Satoru thinks that their little dinner ends all too quickly. He’s eaten with friends before, of course - laughing across the table, snatching everyone else’s fries after he polished off his own before even unwrapping his sandwich, and lounging around waiting for Nanami to finish his food long after the rest of them were done - but this is different. It’s quieter, and he’s never been one for quiet, but there’s this strange feeling of contentedness that surfaces in him every time he steals a glance at either of the two across from him.

Megumi has clearly taken a liking to Suguru, who turns out to be unsurprisingly skilled with children; charm comes easily to him, as Satoru knows all too well. Even when his smile makes that occasional shift from soft to vaguely nihilistic, he can’t take his eyes off of him, so it’s no surprise he’s able to pull everything off so well. Suguru has a way of speaking and carrying himself that makes him seem so open and dependable- though Satoru’s not sure whether he even realizes this himself and purposefully projects such energy, or if it’s just the way he is.

Either way, he thoroughly enjoys the hour they spend in that restaurant. He nibbles at his biscuit and sets the chicken (he can’t handle spice at all, but he doesn’t tell Megumi this) down between bites like he’s savoring the taste, but really he’s just grasping for excuses to stay there a little longer.

And Suguru humors him.

Megumi doesn’t seem to mind either; it’s a gradual shift over the course of their meal, but he goes from entirely closed off to almost talkative, in his own unique way; rather than asking incessant questions the way Satoru would expect a kid his age to, he offers his completely blunt and often unnervingly precocious opinions on each topic of discussion. His ability to warm up to strangers so quickly should probably be rather concerning to Satoru, but he finds it endearing more than anything.

Even as they stand outside the KFC with one of Megumi’s hands in each of theirs and discuss their next move, Satoru has to resist the urge to request a little more time with Suguru, a second more in his presence; ‘you don’t even have to talk to me, Suguru- if we’re just in the same room, that’s okay too- or if you want me to wait outside while you do what you need to do, I don’t mind that either-’ but the last shred of his self-respect keeps his lips pressed together, and he nods along to the other's words (which seem needlessly thorough given the weightlessness of the situation).

“Sorry about this, I have to cover someone’s shift on short notice. You sure you’re okay taking him home?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it.” Satoru agrees before actually processing the request, but nothing about his plan of action changes once he understands what’s being asked of him.

It’s just that he needed a little more time to prepare himself for Suguru being gone- and as he watches him bending down to say goodbye to Megumi, his strong fingers grazing the top of the boy’s head, Satoru realizes they’ve never actually touched.

It shouldn’t matter to him. He shouldn’t want to know what Suguru’s hands might feel like. And he doesn’t.

His eyes don’t linger on that hand as Suguru rises to his full height again, just an inch or two shorter than Satoru himself.

He doesn’t part his lips in preparation to speak. He doesn’t want to tell him to stop, to wait.

He doesn’t just barely keep from reaching out for him as their eyes finally meet and that knee-weakening smile graces his lips, and he doesn’t have to force himself to respond appropriately.

Satoru lifts a hand in goodbye. He wills it not to tremble.

And as Suguru turns away, everything around him blurs, panic rising in his chest.

He’s left like this before.

He’s left him like this before, alone in the thick of a crowded street, permanently frozen in time. Permanently frozen in a state of mourning. He remembers the way passersby ignored him, kept a few feet of distance as they wended their way around his quivering form - like his heartbreak would rub off on them if they got too close. He hadn’t realized, then, that they had lives of their own; lives that they would continue living as though Satoru’s hadn’t just ended.

As though half of his very soul hadn’t just walked away from him without a single moment of hesitation, taking all of his better qualities along with him.

Something in him died that day, something that no amount of stupid jokes or other people or power could ever begin to repair. Even if there was something that could soothe the ache, even just for a second, he wouldn’t let it. To do so would be a betrayal.

He wanted to feel the sting. He wanted it to hurt. Why shouldn’t he be devastated? His best friend was gone, and he wasn’t even dead- he’d made the decision to leave Satoru all on his own. How could anyone expect him to be okay ever again?

Sometimes, he thought it didn’t hurt nearly enough. He’d curl up on the floor of Suguru’s dorm and stare dully at their pictures - tacked to the bulletin board on the wall - and replay those short moments, their one-sidedly heated argument, over and over like a record on loop until eventually and without fail, the sight of Suguru’s still, smiling face in those photos and the smell of his clothes and the memory of that day coerced the tears from his eyes.

It felt fake somehow, how far he would go to feel the pain - to remind himself that his right to happiness had left with Suguru.

He never looked back when he left. Not once. He's not the type to do something like that and then change his mind, because he's too thoughtful, too well rooted in his ways - Satoru knows that. It's something he always loved about him.

But this one time - just this once - he wanted to get on his knees and beg him to throw away his values, to come back to him, to forget everything else.

Because what could possibly be worth this?

He doesn’t look back now either, and suddenly, Satoru feels like he’s sinking under the weight of this memory, this parallel, confusion and distress surging through him. It’s just like before- it’s just like the last time- he’s going to leave him, again, and-

“Gojo, you’re squeezing my hand too tight.”

He snaps out of his stupor and stares down at Megumi, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and then quickly steps back, flexing his fingers loosely to shake them of their sudden stiffness.

“Oh… Sorry,” he forces, and Megumi tilts his head at him inquisitively.

“Are you going to take me home? I can go by myself.”

“What? No, then it’ll be my fault if you get kidnapped.”

“But Tsumiki might think you’re kidnapping me and then she’ll hit you with a frying pan.”

“Well, if Suguru finds out I let a seven-year-old go home by himself at night, he’ll do a lot worse to me than that.”

“No, he won’t. He likes you.” Megumi’s matter-of-fact tone catches him off guard at the wrong time, and he fights to keep his composure as he flashes him a grin and a thumbs up.

“Of course he does! Everybody loves me. Now, what’s your address again?”

When Satoru returns to his dorm, thankfully without any frying pan-related injuries, the first thing he notices is that his forgotten items have been placed neatly on his bed, side by side. The painting jumps out at him once again, and he breathes out a sigh, flipping it over with one hand so he doesn't have to look at it anymore before sprawling out against his white sheets.

“This is so..”

Something occurs to him, and he sits up, turning the canvas over once more to examine it carefully.

It is just as he thought.

He'd worried he was crazy, in all honesty, because nobody else had seen anything wrong with it. Not Shoko, not Nanami, not Suguru - but Satoru had been right to trust his instincts.

The fish swimming towards each other is not at all an issue - rather, it’s the realization that they’re doing so in a circle that knocks the air from Satoru’s lungs.

He's reminded of the nature of parallel lines when he stares down at the canvas, in the way that two separate objects can continue on forever without crossing paths. He thinks that this is sadder, though - because the fish are so clearly trying to find each other, so obviously chasing each others' tails. And as his eyes follow the circular ripple of water that he so painstakingly painted out, he realizes that he has trapped them inside it.

He has resigned them to a fate of eternal movement - one in which they will always be just shy of touching; just shy of coming face to face.

#jjk #satosugu #alternate universe #ao3 fanfic #coffee shop au #archive of our own #crying screaming throwing up #fanfiction #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto x gojo #gojo x geto #satoru x suguru #suguru x satoru

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