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mushroom-for-art · 1 year

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Wanted to write about Mud and Rosys first meeting since these guys in my brain canon meet and are briefly a something and also Rosy canonically has babens this was always in her brain lore but with the moth squad now becoming a thing I was really intrigued by how that'd affect the original canon. Maple belongs to @cinnatwo I know they're not as present but credit where credit is due

Stormy night panic

Rain heavily thumped and rattled outside splattering against leaves and stones as the weather raged on outside, the wind howling and whipping through the trees causing creaks and haunting whistles.

Alone in a makeshift nest a distressed mew struggled for her breath, her claws scratches into the scattered leaves underneath her scraping on the cold stone as another wave of pain shot through her body.

"HNK", She whimpered loudly curling her toes, 'not here,' she thought, 'not now, please babies please just wait a few more days, I need to get to the other-' "AH-" Her thoughts interrupted by her own short pained yell as discomfort ripped through her.

Her leg throbbed in agony blood oozing from the claw marks that were left deeply inflicted upon her, she couldn't help the trembling, it hurt so much, her tail curled on itself as another pain shot through her, the stress and pain of the attack had sent her body into a panic and now she was giving birth all alone, cold and wet in a strange forest she was unfamiliar with in a nest that wasn't even hers and she hoped was abandoned. She was in too much of a state to even attempt to send out a psychic message to her friends, let alone heal herself, she could feel the warm blood uncomfortably running down her leg no doubt staining her fur. She hoped to any gods listening that nothing could smell her past the heavy rain.

She flinched at a rumble of thunder her shoulders tensing trying to pull herself small as her ears flattened in terror, she was never normally scared of thunder but right now everything was a potential threat, the rumbling could be the returning Tyranitar coming to finish the job, or a landslide that'd trap her in the cave she'd found in the side of this cliff wall. Cave wasn't the right word, it was more like a outcrop with thick vines hanging over the entrance to conceal it.

She wished the others were with her, she wished she was with them. Maple would shove her head under her own chin stubbornly and press close, wrapping her arm over her to hold her tail wrapping around them like a blanket making her feel warm and safe, Moth would lay down nearby and talk to her and tell her everything would be fine. She wiped a little at the tears falling from her eyes from the pain and from missing them she'd really wanted them to be with her for this, she didn't want to be alone.

A flash of lightning outside and Rosys body froze in sheer terror as the flash illuminated a silhouette right outside the vines.

She couldn't breathe her eyes locked forward as a snout pushed between some of the hanging plants parting them and pushing through slowly, another flash, she could make out horns and the skeletal like structure of their face as they slowly came into the outcrop. She couldn't flee in this state even if she wanted to she could've ignored the pain of her leg but all her energy was being redirected into birth leaving her trapped and defenseless as the strange being finally fully entered the space, drops of water dripping off of them as they stared at her with deep blue eyes.

Rosy tried to prickle the fur on her back, to puff up and look bigger but she couldn't, the defiant threatening hiss in her throat turning into breathless whimpers and pained cries as she hiccuped to herself, she didn't want to die here she didn't want her kits to be born just to die either. She wanted her friends.

She didn't hear them move but felt their paw touch her upper leg above her wounds, green warm energy flowed from their touch over her body, she could feel her leg tingling with energy as her wound was healed with the flecks of glittery light illuminating faintly the dark purple muddied fur of the other and the undeniable skull. Their eye shifted from watching her wound to glance at her face before they quickly averted their gaze back to her healing wound.

She watched them flinch as she whimpered again as another labor pain caused her to shake, looking at her in confusion as she trembled. They seemed to scan over her as though trying to find the source of her pain, holding their own paws anxiously as they looked at her, seeming considerably less scary than before.

They seemed to realize though what was causing such issues and she watches them step away.

"W-wait!...wait..please don't leave me…im..im scared." Rosy called out before her voice went quiet and timid. She knew she didn't know this Pokemon. She couldn't even tell what they were but she didn't want to be alone, they showed her kindness and she desperately needed support. They turned their head to regard her as they took a leaf from a vine holding it out into the rain before they came back, she noticed they didn't walk but floated.

They knelt carefully beside her holding the leaf which was now holding water from the rain like a makeshift cup to her offering her a drink. Rosy hadn't even registered her thirst around pain as they carefully held the leaf to help her drink, they left and repeated until Rosy seemed satisfied, choosing to sit, if awkwardly, near her. As the labor got worse they offered their paws out to her and she grasped onto them with one paw squeezing onto them, through the flashes of lightning still raging outside she was starting to make out what they looked like and was starting to suspect what they were.

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In hindsight Mud realized the way he approached the situation may have scared the living daylights out of the birthing mother he found in his nest and had she not already been in labor he might have unintentionally sent her into it. Of course there's probably no right way to go about coming home in the middle of a storm to find a random Pokemon, of your own kind no less, injured and giving birth in your living space so to speak.

He hadn't even intended to come to this nest of his, it was one of many and when the storm hit he was much closer to some others but, he'd felt a pull as though something was off and needed him. He figured subconsciously this other Mew must have been reaching, calling out to anyone close enough to hear, though by the state he found her in, he doubted her message got further than the forest.

She'd passed out not long after the third kitten was born and he was genuinely scared she may have passed on from exhaustion or some unseen wound draining her strength, he was thankful she was still breathing though he was still watching her like a Braviary just to be sure. He'd groomed the gunk off of the last kitten as their mother was unable to and, it was probably the correct thing to do? He wasn't sure he'd not been around others before but back home the Kangaskhan mothers would help one another so he was probably doing something right.

He'd put the last one, who was the runt with a slight kink in their tail that made his heart twinge by their siblings to nurse, his paw rested on their back gently as he felt a level of protectiveness over them before he checked on the mother. She had very lovely fur. It was curled bouncy looking and the yellow highlighting around her cheeks and ears were very charming. She seemed to be doing okay, just tired. The kittens were occupied as well having their first meals. Part of him wanted to go out searching for berries, when she awoke she'd probably be hungry but someone also needed to watch the newborns and protect the nest. The last thing he wanted was some Fearow trying to make off with one of them. He bared his teeth quietly to himself.

For now all he could do was supervise until mom woke up. He slowly took off his protective mask and quietly began to lick the moisture out of his fur. He hated being soaking wet; it made him feel unnecessarily heavy and sluggish, making sure to keep an eye on the triplets.

——————————————————————

Maples tail bristled as she paused mid-flight, her ears twitched to the sides flicking forward and back as her tail fluffed up to its maximum volume and the fur spiked along her spine. Something had happened, and this wasn't like the time Moth set one of his tails alight, this felt, it felt more, not necessarily worse but definitely more.

As she sped onwards to the location they'd agreed upon for their meetup she hoped to god it was just Moth being a fool and that nothing bad had actually happened to either of them, especially not Rosy.

Stretching out her psychic energy she could sense Moth, he was rather far away but slowly approaching as he always did, he was always late to these things even though she KNEW he could fly faster. She scoffed to herself as she searched with her psychic energy for Rosy.

Her signature wasn't moving, off somewhere but from what Maple could gather she was fine, if a bit tired, she assumed it meant Rosy was at the time sleeping to recover from a days flight and judging by the location of her she was in a place where the time zone would be night.

Maple sighed to herself, she must've just sensed something else, maybe a natural disaster that wasn't her problem if Groudon and Kyogure can't sort out their differences well it's Rayquaza's job to stop them isn't it? Not her fault if a few people drown or something.

#My writing #Rosy the Mew #Mud the Mew #Maple the mew #@cinnatwo Maple #@cinnatwo oc #Maple really went eh natural disaster ain't my problem #Mud unintentionally being a terrifying fucker #Time line wise this is before he gets his adopted kids #I always hc him finding an injured one of his kind and helping them #Despite the fact he will avoid mews normally at all costs to avoid rejection for being different be can't help wanting to help one of his #Also him being protective of the kitten that's slightly off because he sees himself to lesser degree in them #He's got issues and be doesn't want this baby getting abandoned like he did (dw Rosy would never)#Also Rosy having a horrible time XD giving birth in a strange place #She was hoping to surprise the others and be with them and situations said nah #She was always story wise gonna go into early stress induced labor #Now with added extra cry of wanting her friends that don't even know she's there and she can't reach #(Maple doesn't sense the kittens or Mud as shes not looking for them she's looking specifically for Rosys signature not general mew)#Tw blood mention #Tw labor mention #Tw birth mention #Nothing is described baby's happen offscreen

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aq2003 · 1 year

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the thing about the beardsley nat 20s is that while their sheer narrative luck is astounding, in my opinion the rolls would not hit nearly as hard with any other dm. brennan honors nat 20s so much that he will derail his whole campaign to accommodate for them. in fact i think he would set himself on fire if a player got a nat 20 and asked him to do it

#d20 #i saw this post that basically boiled down to 'i hope matt is paired up w/ the intrepid heroes + brennan at the table'#and one of the reasons op gave was the beardsley nat 20s (up there w emily just being there)#nah bro. i still have psychic damage from when liam rolled a nat 20 and it didn't do anything to the door #his worldbuilding is too tight knit to get caved in by a nat 20 esp compared to how brennan's worldbuilding #is sooooo character centric and molds to just who the pc's are. since a lot of d20 dabbles in parody-#concept wise it makes sense that more character centric stories and worlds grow from that

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obessivedork · 4 months

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I started Far Harbor and just finished talking with DiMA and Sole Survivor is a synth confirmed (not clickbait)?????

#I'm not serious btw. Or AM I? 👀#No. I mean. I'm pretty sure my boy Michael IS a sythn Shaun made to infiltrate and take down the Railroad but he fucked up #and gave the synth his dead Dad's memories out of sentimentality so Mikey boy has MORALS and fundamentally disagrees with the Institute #but when I replay? Nah I don't think Consuelo will be a synth. She's his Auntie #(IK I said I was getting sick of Mikey Boy but Far Harbor seems to be lauded as the best of FO4 story writing wise so I had to go see)#(also I got a railroad quest to go there lol)#anyways #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #kat plays fallout 4

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pinkandgreenroom · 2 years

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It's time to reread the Lotr books now I guess, first of all out of enjoyment and second of all cause my friend marries and we want to do a retelling of the story but with him and his fiancée in the center of the story and us as the Fellowship, let's see how it will go

#i could look the entire story up on wiki but nah where would be the fun in that #and he's a massive fan so he would be able to tell if we mess things up story wise #and it needs to be good!!!!!#personal shit #I hope I don't have to write the whole thing in the end but I fear this is how it's going to be #one way to have one of my writings published I guess

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 17 days

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Am i the asshole for denying a dnd character request?

Info:

I'm a dm but im pretty new to the dming side of things. Up until recently i had been a player exclusively. One of my friends (who I'll call K) mentioned wanting to get into dnd and I said I could dm. A few other of our friends also joined the campaign and I set to work helping everyone develop characters and began writing the story

Im a pretty chill person when it comes to dnd rules, I'm not exactly free for all, but not book rigid either. Im fine with homebrew or critical role content if it can be adapted to be playable and not unfair. I don't want the other players to be left behind and I don't want monsters and the other PCs to look like chumps.

K came up to me and said they wanted their character to be an angel. I was like "sick, I'll help you write up an aasimar". But she showed me the picture she wanted, and it was one of those biblical angels that's just a ring of eyes with wings everywhere. And that was going to be a solid no.

I had a few reasons. One was backstory wise, why would an angel like that be traveling with a bunch of mortals, one of which, another PC, was a tiefling? Another was practicality, how would a creature with no arms and who flies around be able to reasonably adapt to the rules around carrying weight, one vs two handed weapons, and movement? And the third was the biggie, and it was that the big baddie at the end of the of the campaign was a beholder, for folks who don't know dnd, a beholder is a giant flying eyeball monster with a giant mouth and tentacles. And that was going to be an issue because I thought that K's angel drawing looked too similar to a beholder. And since that thing is the big baddie of the whole fuggin story, it would mean both NPCs and monsters would be like "oh fuck, a beholder," and it would mess up the intermediate battles and quests I had already written.

I told K no and she replied, paraphrased, "if you wrote and made up this whole story why can't you make up a reason why my character is here?"

I just told her I couldn't because her character would look too much like a beholder and it would scare off low level monsters and npcs and she got very huffy with me.

Another of the friends who was also playing said that maybe we should let the rules slide and just let K play as her drawing. I still said no, and that I was fine with her playing an aasimar, but if she wanted to play one, she'd have to be more reasonable to the game.

K said she was fine with it but still seems pissed off at me.

Am i the asshole for denying her request to play as her angel drawing?

#aita #am i the asshole

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hxhhasmysoul · 5 months

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jjk tags and fags - translator assigned genders / fandom assigned genders

The people who translate this manga and anime just can't fucking help themselves with constantly assigning genders to characters.

Yuuji is not gendering Uraume in any way in what he says in the manga:

And he says the exact same thing in the anime: Ore dake hyoyketsu ga amakatta Sukuna kanren dana. That roughly translates to: The ice around me was half-hearted likely due to the connection with Sukuna.

He doesn't mention Uraume by name, which is very typical in Japanese which is a very context reliant language. But in the context it is clear that he is referring to Uraume's connection to Sukuna.

Uraume's gender is ambiguous on purpose, Gege is very deliberate in this.

Uraume of course isn't the only one.

______________________________________________

Other characters and their tags and fags.

Kenjaku

People who know them closely, like Tengen, always refer to them without gendering them. Sometimes the people who don't know them well gender them according to presentation like Takaba, or like Chousou who heavily associates Kenjaku with Noritoshi Kamo. And also those who think Kenjaku is Getou.

The fandom is super bad about Kenjaku, people insist on calling them he/him and making really homophobic and transphobic comments regarding their motherhood. Or the Getou fans just erase Kenajku and pretend that everything Kenjaku does is actually Getou...

_______

Tengen

She literally in open text says how she wants to be gendered. People use the preface where she says that technically as a cursed spirit she doesn't have a gender to pretend the next line doesn't matter. When the opposite is actually true. Even if Tengen could decide to forego having a gender after her evolution, she says nah, grandma, don't call me a guy. And then proceeds to indulge in masc presentation, Queen!

I personally get more annoyed when people use they/them for Tengen than he/him. The he/him people usually just read casually and remember all the times the translators called Tengen master and they haven't really paid that much attention to her scene with Yuki. But I've seen people use they/them on purpose to ignore Tengen's words.

_______

Kashimo

Kashimo is never gendered by the other characters. They use the personal pronoun "ore", which is associated with men but not used by them exclusively. It is rather harsh sounding pronoun, and as @/cursedvibes says it fits Kashimo who speaks in a crude and masculine way. Kashimo's modern day presentation isn't very gendered looks wise though.

But presentation =/= gender. Regardless if it's looks or speech.

Fandom will say well in the past life they looked like a guy and it's just rude to assume based on that :/

Also even if, maybe new life new gender who knows.

If Gege was trying to obviously gender Kashimo the 3rd person pronouns were right there yet remained unused.

_______

Kirara

I've written about Kirara's pronouns before.

I read Kirara as a woman and I explain why in the post above. I don't mind non binary readings because it's really not super clear.

And I don't even have some huge issue with people calling Kirara a high femme boy, though I personally don't read her like that at all.

As long as it's done in a kind and not transphobic or homophobic way. But alas the fandom is there to disappoint quite often.

_______

Angel

I don't know how are people confused about her gender this far along. I didn't remember that her gender was revealed when she actually started interacting with the other characters because Tengen'd spoken about her many chapters earlier. But Angel is very clearly gendered as "she/her". And she's been in the story for many chapters now.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #uraume #kenjaku #tengen #kashimo #kirara #angel #i hope i haven't forgotten anyone important #translator shaming #jjk manga

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morallyinept · 3 months

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 8

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Time passes on the island. Frankie and Jude try to stay busy whilst they face uncertainty. Descriptions of drug use.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 7

Three years before the island…

“She brayed like a fucken’ goat all night, man.” Benny cajoles.

“Goats don't bray.” Frankie says stoically, fingers pressed cool against the glass in his hand.

“What?”

“Yeah. Horses bray. Donkeys bray, not goats.” Will adds.

“Goats bleat. Like sheep.” Frankie informs.

“Yeah. So, did she sound like a goat or a donkey?” Will asks.

“The fuck do I know? It was a weird fucken’ sound like buraaaahhh, and I just shot my load and left, man.” Benny chuckles.

“Cue illegitimate child in nine months' time.” Will remarks to Frankie with a side eye roll.

“Nah, I got the snip.” Benny retorts with scissor fingers.

“Wise man,” Frankie nods, looking about the bar furtively. His grip around the glass intensifies as he can feel the heavy buzz in them twitch.

Around the table, mismatched chairs huddle in, their well-worn upholstery offering a comfortable respite from the hustle and bustle of the crowded bar. The chatter of patrons fill the air with a growing hum, mingling with the crackling strains of music drifting from a nearby speaker. The American flag is draped everywhere.

"You ever notice how they just go about their lives, completely clueless?" Will remarks, his voice tinged with frustration as he glances around the bar filled with naive civilians laughing and drinking merrily.

A loud clap on his back from Benny pulls him out of the cloud threatening to pour over his head.

On Veterans Day, Frankie and the Miller brothers find themselves gathered around the little table in the corner of the bar they often frequent, nursing their drinks in sombre reflection.

The atmosphere is tinged with a hint of bitterness, a toast to the fallen in remembrance of Tom, and Santi’s obvious absence from their lives for the past eight months.

A pretty woman walks by the table, her eyes flickering over the group of grizzled vets with a hint of curiosity. Benny catches her gaze and flashes her a charming smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he calls out, his voice tinged with flirtation. "Care to let a hero buy you a drink?"

She smiles. “Sure.”

Benny turns to the two of them and smirks. “Don’t wait up boys,” as he stands and escorts the woman to the bar.

"Did you see that?" Will exclaims, his voice tinged with incredulity. “Slick asshole.”

Frankie can all but chuckle as he shakes his head. “You want another?”

“Fuck yes.” Will mutters.

Frankie heads off to the bar, making a detour to the bathroom.

Closing himself in one of the stalls, he breathes out deep and long, fumbles with trembling hands to produce a small packet from the depths of his jacket pocket. With a shaky exhale, he tears it open, revealing the white powder nestled within.

Without hesitation, he bends over the makeshift altar, the cold porcelain of the toilet seat pressing into his skin as he carefully prepares the lines. With each snort, etching its presence into every crevice of his mouth, leaving behind a metallic tang, he feels the familiar rush of euphoria coursing through his veins, washing away the pain that plagues him like a relentless tide.

An intense rush surges through Frankie's veins, flooding his senses with a fleeting sense of invincibility. A wave of warmth and energy washes through, momentarily erasing the weight of his troubles and the burden of his thoughts. His heart races in his chest, the steady rhythm of its beat echoing in his ears like a primal drum.

Colours seem to intensify, vibrant and alive, as if the world around him has been turned up a notch in hues of heightened perception. He closes his fist in and out noting the shakes dying away, his hand feeling steady again. No longer seeing the gun inside his grip, the blood that stains his fingers.

But beneath the surface of reprieve lurks a darker truth - a gnawing emptiness that lingers just beyond the edges of his consciousness. A hollow sensation, a stark reminder of the void that threatens to consume him from within, even as the drugs whisper promises of escape.

For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to forget - to forget the demons that haunt him, the sounds of gunfire and shells, the screams. Tom’s dead eyes; the memories that torment him, and the emptiness that bites at the edges of his tattered soul.

In that moment, there’s only the numbing embrace of oblivion on his knees in a feculent bathroom stall.

As Frankie returns to the table, his movements heavy and sluggish with the weight of his clandestine deception, he can't shake the feeling that he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice - a single mis-step away from plunging into the darkness that threatens to consume him whole, jaws open.

Will can't help but notice the subtle change in his buddy's demeanour. There’s a distant look in Frankie’s glassy eyes, a shadow of unease that flickers across his usually stoic features.

“You alright?” Will asks, as Frankie puts down the foamy glasses.

Frankie looks back at him and his breath catches in his dry throat, his mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. But as he meets Will's gaze, something shifts within him - a familiar instinct kicking in, urging him to deflect and deceive.

It’s surprisingly easy to lie, to mask the turmoil churning within him with a façade of false reassurance.

The words slip and uncoil from his pale tongue with practised ease, each syllable carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and conceal the dark truth.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Frankie replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Tired, y'know?"

He watches as Will's expression softens, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as he accepts Frankie's reassurances with a nod.

A weight lifts from Frankie's shoulders, even if it is a pyrrhic victory.

Benny returns to the table with the woman, and now her friend in tow, as they nestle in around them.

“This is Carla,” Benny introduces to Frankie, who nods at her with a small blooming smile.

“Encantado de conocerte, Francisco.” (Nice to meet you.)

“¿De dónde eres?” (Where are you from?) He asks with raised eyebrows.

“Pensacola, you?” Carla smiles with a nonchalant shrug, as Frankie leans in closer to converse with the pretty Latina with gorgeous brown eyes smiling back at him.

“El Paso then. Pensacola now. Y'know, around.” He smirks.

"You get around a lot?" She asks.

He shakes his head looking at her dewy lips. "Not anymore."

Day 16 on the island…

Frankie and Jude continued to fish in the bay daily and rationed what they could; eating the fish and occasionally snacking on some of the remaining treats from the trolley as they dwindled slowly, but their stomachs rumbled regardless.

They used some of the shampoo and soaps to try and clean some of their clothes, but that salty, ocean smell still lingered over them making them stink like a packet of salty chips constantly. But it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things.

Frankie tried the iPhone several times more, until the battery finally gave out and died. Switching it on and off and trying to obtain some signal up on the ridge desperately, but ultimately to no avail.

Between the two of them, they started work on re-building the shack in the tree line to keep busy. Frankie collected some soil and mud from the woods and mixed it with sea water in one of the rusted over tins to make a sludgy cement to insulate the shack.

Although the heat was currently unbearable, they couldn’t be confident that it wouldn’t get colder as the seasons changed on the island, so it was best to be prepared.

Jude collected large, waxy leaves and rolled them up tightly to create layers of insulation for the roof, tying them together with vines. Using the lifejackets, they created a watertight under layer for the rooftop.

It took several days to build fully and whilst Jude was rolling up leaves on the beach, she’d look over and catch Frankie, shirtless in grubby shorts using the switchblade to sharpen and cut branches.

He’d crack them over his knee to break them and each time he did it, she noticed the tightening of his stomach and became mesmerised by it until he’d glance over and smile at her, and she’d have to look away quickly, feeling hot.

Jude noticed a scar tucked into the side of his hip when his shorts would hang low; a silvery line flashing at her against the tan skin dipped under his subtle paunch on the right side. The line of blue faded numbers that ink around his wrist, hidden under his watch strap. The way he walks towards her sometimes with a subtle limp.

“You hurt yourself? You're limping.” She questioned.

“It happens sometimes. I'll be fine in a minute.” He shrugged off with a tight smile, and she didn’t question it further, despite her mind ticking about the origin of all these things that make Frankie up into the mysterious clay of who he is.

She wondered if perhaps he’d noticed little nuances about her too, then realised she’d been staring too long when he looked back at her quizzically from under the shadow of his cap.

She showed Frankie how to braid vines so they would be more robust and not snap as easily when he used them to tie the planks of wood together.

“I've no idea what I’m doing; kinda free styling it right now.” He chuckled, and then she laughed harder at his messy attempt of braiding them.

“It’s like this, under, over, under, over...” He watched as Jude’s fingers weaved the vines and he followed along with his, seemingly with ease like watching a live YouTube tutorial.

“Like this?” Frankie asked, holding up a long braided vine when he was done.

“Perfect!” She praised taking it from him and securing the end.

They soon had a stack of them and she would hold the planks in place whilst he reached up and tied them together.

Their relentless teamwork enabled the shack to be fully completed after six days.

Whilst she was down at the shore washing their clothes and cleaning herself up in the water, Frankie put the finishing touches to the shack.

He arranged the seat cushions they ripped out of the fuselage; tying them together with the straps he cut from some of the life jackets. He was down to the last two and decided not to cut anything off them, instead placing them on the suitcase he had turned on its side and used as a makeshift bedside table.

He considered in his gut that it might be wise to have two working life jackets; even though that thought made his scalp prickle with a cold shiver.

He made a hanging mobile of colourful beach shells he’d been collecting randomly from the bay each time he went down there to fish; reaching into the water and looking at their pearly undersides and putting them in his pocket that rattled as they walked back.

He tied it above the beds, using shoe laces from his boots and Jude’s Converse that were pretty much ruined now. He just either walked around barefoot or in a pair of flip flops that were a little small for his feet that he’d found in a case.

Frankie folded the clean clothes Jude had washed and that were dry into another case he kept open, he tied together a cluster of branches to make a broom to sweep leaves away that would blow in on the breeze. He used two large branches that he wedged into the sand and made a clothes line with vines, so their clothes could dry in the sun, rather than spread out on the rocks and blow into the sea when the wind whipped up.

Life became somewhat domesticated.

Now, as Jude makes her way up the beach, he’s coming back through the tree line with some plants and leaves inside one of the rusted over tins and stops to greet her.

“Hola,” (Hello,) he calls and waves with a large open palm before she heads into the cave to return the toiletries.

She smiles and waves back.

They’d mutually decided to use the cave mouth as their storage pantry for the food, fish and toiletries. The fire still burned and Frankie would check on it regularly. He’d dug a deep trench around it which was ashy and had scorched the sand black, but when it would get a little breezy in the evenings, it meant the fire wouldn’t blow out fully whilst they slept.

Frankie places the makeshift vase of plants down on the bedside case and steps back to marvel at their creation.

Jude pokes her head through the door, lifting the plastic sheeting he’s cut to make a doorway that creaks softly in the breeze.

“It’s finished?” She asks, stepping inside and looking about in wonder.

“Yeah, what do you think?” Frankie asks her; his hands on his hips and face shining with sweat.

“It’s really great. You did an amazing job.”

“We did an amazing job.” He corrects holding out his giant palm, and she high fives him.

She glances over his shoulder at the bed and spies the cushions pushed together. He’s rolled up some of the clothes that were too big for them and stuffed them inside some of the vile patterned shirts to use as pillows.

“Urm-”

“I can separate them, it’s just to conserve space.” Frankie begins, rubbing at the back of his head. “It’s, uh, a little tight in here.”

“Uh-huh.” She smiles at him and notices the blush creeping into his ears as he stuffs his hands into his shorts pockets.

She simply saunters past and lays down on the bed looking up at him. She pats the empty space beside her and he lays back on it with her; them both looking up at the shell mobile twirling silently above their heads.

“That’s really pretty.” Jude comments nodding up at the shimmery rainbows inside the hollows of the chalky shells hanging in different lengths.

“It’s the little things that make a house a home.” Frankie muses.

In that moment, memories flood his cerebral cortex: the familiar streets of Pensacola lined with palm trees, the scent of salt in the air, the warmth of the Florida sun on his skin. He can almost hear the sound of seagulls crying in the distance, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment passes, leaving Frankie with a bittersweet longing for the place he once called home, even if he put all of his effort into destroying it.

“You’re very good with your hands. Perhaps you missed your vocation as a carpenter or something.” Jude says.

“Maybe,” he crosses one of his long legs over the other at the ankle and rests his arms behind his head. "I like to fix things, make things, I guess."

“It’s much cooler in here already,” she surmises with a smile of relief and closing her eyes.

She feels Frankie shuffle beside her and opens her eyes, turning her head to see him reach for the notebook. He scribbles something in there and then puts it back.

“How many days?” She enquires.

“Twenty-two.” He says with a flat tone.

He hears her take in a deep breath and release it out again in a heavy sigh.

“You know, when you’ve been missing for more than forty-eight hours, people tend to stop looking for you.” She says bluntly.

“Don’t.” He says softly.

“Do you really believe that we’re gonna be rescued?”

He pauses before answering. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.” Frankie mutters.

He reaches up with a long arm and taps one of the shells and the whole mobile wobbles about above their heads.

Her gaze fixes on the spinning seashells with a faraway look in her eyes.

Jude sits upright on the bed after a few moments, and then stands. She looks down at him over her shoulder.

“You’d better not snore, mister.”

Frankie grins back at her and watches as she leaves the shack.

The first night in the shack lying so close together, is weird to say the least.

She’s only known this guy for just over three weeks or so and Jude can feel the subtle warm whooshes of his breath on the back of her shoulder as he snoozes contentedly beside her.

She woke through the night, and was startled to have him so close to her, momentarily forgetting everything in that oneiric haze rousing her from unconscious slumber. His right hand thrown up hid most of his face as it casually lays there, blocking half of him from her view.

But she can see his right eye, the light from the fire outside casting dancing shadows on his face, and it’s closed; fanned eyelashes twitching gently as he dreams.

His body is slain clumsily on top of the cushions, and she can see he’s still wearing one of his flip flops, although just barely as it clings to life desperately on his big toe. Her eyes trail the length of his long legs, smattered with dark hairs and the occasional graze or bruise.

She wanders back up the length of him, taking in the golden colour of his contoured arms and broad shoulders, the odd freckle constellation en route to the back of his left hand with thick ropey veins and long fingers. His hands are huge; the surface area of them spectacularly ginormous.

A wayward thought creeps into her frontal lobe; thinking about him getting to know her body with those big hands...

His eye is now looking at her, studying her as she meets it with her own curious trailing up to his face, and she struggles to find words to greet him when he’s intrusively near like this.

But he never touches her, despite their proximity; a subtle, permanent gap where neither of them venture into, even when asleep.

Instead she doesn’t move, just lays there taking him in and fixating on all the details of him, much like he is with her. It’s a weird feeling; a contented bloom that settles her, yet an undeniable pull that she can’t resist against as they both take in one another through their sleep laden, yet curious gazes.

She smiles first and he moves his hand to reveal his full face to her; a face full of boyish good looks and sharp angles, trying to cling onto youth underneath crinkled, golden skin and fuzzed facial hair peppered with grey on the sides of his jaw.

Frankie tosses a crooked smile back at her through those meaty pink lips before she closes her eyes again and tries not to think about how hot she suddenly feels.

Jude isn’t able to sleep much as the night proceeds; rolling over and then realising she’s too close to him and then backing away again. Paranoid she’ll break wind or snore or dribble in her sleep and he’d hear it.

After much tumultuous tossing and turning, she gets up quietly and exits the shack onto the beach.

The fire is still burning, although the flames are low inside the pit, and she chucks on a few branches, wrapping the shirt she’s wearing around her for warmth. The breeze picks up at night, but the warmth in the air still lingers and suffocates above it.

She sits down by the rocks on the shoreline and looks out into the bleak, enveloping darkness, hearing the waves crash and roll in.

She scans the horizon as best as she can through the dark, but there’s nothing there, as usual. There’s never anything on the horizon, and after twenty-three days it’s getting harder to fathom that someone could be looking for them.

There has to be some sort of panic and worry back home. Her mother would be having a fit and her father going absolutely crazy and calling the embassy and Amnesty, or any other official body he could think of, demanding that his daughter be found and brought home.

She imagines that Frankie will definitely be missed back home; he seems the type to have hundreds of people surround him, a social butterfly.

So why is no-one coming out here to them? Why haven’t they seen a boat or heard a plane or helicopter flying overhead at least? Someone has to be looking for the missing flight - it just doesn’t make any sense at all.

She thinks of her room back at her parent’s house from when she’d moved back in after splitting from Nate, with all of her essential stuff crammed boxes, and wonders who will take what from it all when they eventually accept the fact she’s dead and not coming back ever again.

What will happen to her credit card debt? Does that just disappear and get written off?

She scoffs to herself when she realises she won’t miss that at least.

Her thoughts drift to Nate. Is he missing her, is he concerned for her welfare? Will the thought of never seeing her again be the crux of him realising what an utter idiot he’s been to ever let her slip through his clumsy, cheating fingers?

Her eyes well up and she absentmindedly wipes them with the sleeve of the shirt and sniffs as the breeze ripples through her hair.

Why couldn’t he love me? What’s wrong with me?

She cries into her knees, feeling foolish and bereft, and more than anything, utterly lost.

Frankie rolls over in the morning to be met with an empty space where he expects Jude to be laying asleep next to him. He sits upright and rubs his eyes before traipsing out the shack to find her.

He discovers her curled up on the rock asleep in a huddled ball and nudges her awake gently.

“Did you sleep out here all night?” He asks her with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“If it’s too weird I can separate the cushions. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.” He explains with a frown as she sits up rubbing at the crick in her neck. His face looks a little disappointed as he speaks, she notes.

“No it’s not that. I just...” She searches for the words. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He probes gently.

“And say what exactly? That I’m terrified that no-one’s coming for us? That the reality is looking more and more bleak that we’re going to be rescued any time soon? I think we may be here for the long haul.” She huffs.

Frankie bites down on his lip.

“If you wanna live in denial that’s fine, Frankie, but I can’t pretend that everything is okay when it’s not.” She snaps a little too harshly at him.

“I’m not in denial.” He corrects. “I-I have hope; there’s a difference.”

“Hope? I’m struggling to understand what that word even means right now.” Jude snorts.

Squaring his shoulders, Frankie looks out at the ocean marred by the dull sky hovering above it and feels that heavy pull in his gut. Jude’s despair is slowly matching the growth of his own; a silent spectre that haunts his every thought and action.

Despite his best efforts to remain optimistic, to cling to the belief that help will come, Frankie can't shake the feeling of impending doom that hangs over them like a dark cloud. It’s a relentless onslaught - a constant barrage of doubt and fear that threatens to consume.

He’s reminded of a time when he could drown out these muddled feelings with a quick fix - a line of cocaine to numb the pain and silence the voices of doubt echoing in the depths of his mind.

But on the island, he’s forced to confront those fears head on as he glances down at the incessant aching tremble in his fingers, reminding him of this new, terrifying reality he's wading in, as he balls his hand into a fist.

“We’ll get through this, look at what we’ve done,” his arm points out to the shack. “We can survive because we can support each other, okay? You lean on me, and I’ll lean on you. Deal?”

Jude looks out to the sea and the sky seems gnarly. “You hardly know anything about me, Frankie.” She says, bitterly.

He sits beside her on the rock. “And you don’t really know that much about me, either. But I know that you’re a survivor. If you weren’t, you’d be at the bottom of the ocean right now.” Frankie reminds her.

She looks at him, soft brown eyes burrowing their way in, and offers him a small glimmer of a weak smile.

“We can get to know each other better, right? It’s not like we’re going anywhere...” He trails off.

“Way to stay hopeful there, Fish.” Jude remarks with a pout.

He smiles at her use of his code name. “You know what I mean. Right now we’re here. Let’s make the most of it; keep busy. We can fish, cook and talk. Whatever you want, okay? If you need space, I can sleep in the cave.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Thank you,” she says to him. “I think if I was alone, I probably would’ve died by now.”

Frankie confirms. “No. You’re stronger than you think, hermosa.”

She smiles up at him. “What does that mean?”

He hesitates for a second. “It uh, it means… beautiful.”

She blinks in surprise, as she turns to meet his gaze. It’s a simple compliment, casually spoken, yet it carries a weight and significance that catches her off guard.

Jude’s face softens as she looks at him, a small tinge of pink blooming in his tanned cheeks under the wiry hairs on his face.

“Gracias,” (thank you) she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes shining at him with a mixture of surprise and delight.

The sky breaks later in the afternoon; those gray clouds rolling in from the sea bringing with them torrential rain.

The fire is extinguished; steam wafts from it in a small curl and the bottles they’d planted into the ground are filling with water and overspilling into the sand.

Jude twists the caps onto them and stacks the bottles inside the shack whilst Frankie’s outside checking the waterproofing on the shack’s outer walls.

“It’s holding together,” he says, with an accomplished smile as he steps back inside; his clothes utterly drenched and water from his cap dripping crystal lengths down his cheeks.

He reaches for the Finding Nemo towel and dries his face. “At least we have plenty of water again.”

Jude nods back at him with a relieved look about her.

He sniffs in and reaches for the spears. “You up for some more fishing?”

“Won’t we get wet?”

He looks at her like she’s stupid. “We’ll already be wet in the water.”

“I’m such an idiot!” She laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Well, I didn’t wanna point it out.” Frankie muses as she shoves him in the arm, following him out of the shack towards the bay.

They manage to collect some fish, but are unable to light the fire due to the rain pelting non-stop, so they don’t eat much. They share the last of the snack bag from the trolley stash sitting in the cave mouth together watching the rain, and once they’ve finished, Jude looks up at him with some concern.

“We’ll be okay with the fish.” Frankie persuades gently. “There might be some mussels or something around the rock pools. Maybe even some lobsters...” Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but the thought makes his mouth water.

“I’m going to dry off and change. Can you wait out here for a few minutes?” Jude asks him.

He nods, “of course.”

Frankie puts the fish inside the tin down by the side of the shack wall. The rain has already filled the tin and the fish are submerged in the water with their bubbly dead eyes looking up at him as they bob lifelessly around.

He looks up into the dank clouds as rainwater falls into his eyes.

He stands, affirmative and taught with his head pointing upwards into the direction of the sky itself letting the raindrops wash over his skin.

His eyes are closed and he allows himself to feel the sensations that each tantalising droplet has to offer as they beat over his face. His bare toes search their way into the damp soil and take root there, as if he’s connecting with the earth on some spiritual level unknown to anyone else.

His private sanctuary in which Frankie dwells for a stream of time that seems unrelenting and almost as if he’s at one with the elements.

Jude appears on the other side of the plastic sheet ready to tell him to come back inside and just looks at him for a few moments enjoying the rain.

It feels as though she’s invading on this private moment that seems to render her still with a quiet awe. Just watching as the rain soaks him as he leans back, face turned to the sky with a small smile blooming over his face.

It takes him a short while to come back to her level when she calls his name gently, and he opens his eyes smiling sweetly at her as if the show hasn’t occurred at all.

Once inside, she shuffles around awkwardly and says she’ll wait outside for him to change too, but then realises she’ll get wet all over again.

“It’s okay, you can stay inside.” Frankie reassures.

“I won’t look,” Jude promises and promptly turns around facing the wall.

She fingers some of the clay mud in between the planks of wood anxiously with her nail, as she hears him shuffling about behind her. She hears the buckle of his belt and imagines he’s dropped his shorts as she hears them plop onto the ground.

She shuts her eyes and tries not to think of him removing his boxers too.

Fuck.

“Okay, I’m done.” Frankie says and is pulling on a dry t-shirt as she turns around. He’s in new shorts and proceeds to ruffle the towel through his dripping curls.

“You alright?” He asks her, noting her bashful unease.

“Fine,” she replies smiling, and makes her way over to the cushion bed and sits down.

He sits beside her and reaches for a bottle of water and hands it to her.

She twists off the cap, takes a mouthful and hands it back to him. “Where are the fish?”

“I left 'em outside, figured they might start to stink in here. As soon as the rain stops, I’ll light the fire again and we can cook.”

“Sure,” she replies.

They sit together in silence and it’s all kinds of awkward the longer it lingers.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a board game or something.” Jude mutters after some time, and he smirks.

“A deck of cards. We could play poker; I’m good at poker.” Frankie replies.

“I’m not,” she laughs.

“Everyone’s good at poker, come on.”

“You’d see through my poker face immediately.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I have one of those faces that gives the game away.” She says, feeling a little hot under the collar still.

“Really? I think you don’t give much away at all.” Frankie states.

“What do you mean?”

“I never know what you’re really thinking; you hide your emotions well.”

“Dude, I’ve cried in front of you.” She reminds him.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to cry to be emotional, right?”

She thinks about it for a minute. “What makes you cry, Frankie?”

“Being kicked in the balls,” He remarks.

She snorts as she takes a sip from the water. “Have you been kicked in the balls a lot?” Jude enquiries.

“Once or twice.” He chuckles.

“Come on, what really makes you cry?”

He shrugs with those broad shoulders of his. “I dunno. I cried when my dog died.”

“You had a dog?”

“Yeah, when I was little.”

“What was his name?”

“Luca.” Frankie answers, accentuating the pronunciation.

“I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’m away a lot so it wouldn’t be fair, I guess.”

“What would you call it if you could have one?”

“Humphrey.”

“Why Humphrey?” Frankie questions.

“After Humphrey Bogart, of course.”

“Of course. How did you get into photography?” He enquires as he relaxes back on the bed.

“I love taking pictures and then it kinda just slotted into place. I started my own travel blog originally, and I just got some freelance jobs from that. Then I spent some time with a travel website and got regular work with them.”

“I assume your fiancé didn’t like you being away a lot.” Frankie puts.

“Oh, he coped fine. In fact, I doubt he noticed I was away a lot. He was more than pre-occupied and kept busy.” She remarks sourly.

“He sounds like a dick.” Frankie surmises.

“He is a dick.” Jude laughs.

“Well, it’s his loss,” Frankie says, gently.

Two molten brown eyes catch her own, and she reminds herself to swallow the water.

“Yeap,” she says after gulping. “It’s your ex-girlfriend’s loss too by the way.”

Frankie smiles, looking down at his bare feet. “Thanks.”

Two months on the island…

Life, stranded on the island, continued with much of the same for the next two months.

Yep, you read that right; two whole months had passed by, and with no rescue attempt either.

Frankie and Jude continued to fish in the bay, collect and ration the rain water to stay hydrated as best as they could, and spent the evenings talking and eating around the fire; star gazing on those clearer nights when the universe would give them a clandestine peep up its skirt.

To try and keep the boredom at bay, Frankie created a few games for them to play.

He dug holes in the sand up the beachfront of various sizes and spaced apart, and they would toss pebbles into them, keeping a tally of the score in the sand with who got the most pebbles in the holes - beer pong, but without the beer.

Sounds simple and incredibly mundane, but it kept them preoccupied for a while. They’d play Tic-Tac-Toe in the sand with shells and stones, and Jude always beat him, much to his dismay.

“You’re cheating. There’s no other explanation.” Frankie muses, with a frown as he places his shell down confidently only for her to block him making a line with her pebbles.

“I never cheat.” Jude confirms confidently.

“You better not be; you know what happens to bad girls who cheat.” He smirks, pursing out his lips as he rakes the stick through the sand drawing out another grid nonchalantly.

She looks up at him incredulously with cheeks that feel hot and decides it’s best to change the subject.

“You urm, you know how to play chess?” She all but squeaks out.

“Sure,” he nods and they play that too, trying to remember which stone or pebble they’ve allocated for their Bishop or Rook pieces.

“You can’t make that move, that’s your Knight.” Frankie corrects her, and laughs when she gets confused.

“Whoops.” Jude raises her eyebrows innocently

“I knew you were fuckin’ cheating.” He winks at her playfully as he places his Queen shell down. “Check Mate.”

They never spoke about the number of days racking up in Frankie’s notebook.

He was regimented in his routine of opening it up in the dim morning light and writing in it. He’d often scribble away in it for a while, lost in turbulent thoughts.

Jude never asked him what it was exactly he wrote in there, and she soon stopped asking him to tell her how many days it had been when they hit the thirtieth day on the island.

Frankie, of course remained cautiously optimistic, but whenever she looked at him with a concerned face, he no longer offered his monotonous words of “they’ll be here soon” to her anymore.

She didn’t want to hear it; he could tell by the way her face sank, and he didn’t have the strength to summon the words and their pointless inflection either.

The toiletries had halved considerably, despite rationing them out as best as they could. They discussed it and decided that instead of bathing in the sea daily, they would decrease and alternate between using shampoo and soap rather than both. They would no longer use them to clean their clothes either - plain old sea water would just have to do.

They would sit in front of the fire at night and he would teach her some Spanish, marvelling at her pronunciation attempts until she could converse with him in basic sentences.

“How do you say my Spanish tutor is doing a good job?” Jude asks him with a compliment.

“Mi tutor de Español está haciendo un buen trabajo,” Frankie replies in deep, Spanish gravel around his voice with a thankful nod and smile back at her.

“How about my head hurts?”

“Me duele la cabeza y estoy cansado.”

“How do you say I have sand in my underwear?” She giggles and Frankie can't help but smile at the sound.

“Tengo arena en mis calzoncillos.” He laughs, and then mutters, adding “quizás deberías quitarte los calzoncillos…” (perhaps you should take your underwear off…)

“What does that last part mean?” Jude enquires.

Frankie shakes his head at her trying not to grin, and doesn't elaborate any further on it.

They agree to use the razor for sparse grooming only, meaning Frankie will have to let his facial hair get wispier, and Jude wears her jeans more despite the heat, covering up the hair on her legs growing, even though he says she shouldn’t have to worry.

Yep, think about it, you ain’t going to be a hairless beauty on a desert island for very long. It isn’t like in the movies. In fact, Jude braves herself to look in the cosmetic mirror in the make-up bag one day, and can see her eyebrows are growing a little wild and her bangs are getting longer. She plucks her eyebrows, neatening them up as best as she can, inwardly cringing at the state of them.

She happens to notice she’s dropped some weight too. Two months of eating nothing but white fish and drinking only water sparingly would be a Keto dieter’s dream, right? She’s in the sea and cleaning herself down one morning, and can notice the difference in her torn jeans when they feel significantly looser as she dresses.

It’s a worrying thought, but it’s soon interrupted in its blooming by frantic shouting.

She looks up to see Frankie running towards her as she scrambles to throw on her t-shirt to cover her modesty.

“What’s wrong?” She questions with wide eyes as he dashes towards her; yelling for her to come quickly and grabs her hand.

He yanks her along with such force that she almost loses her footing.

He’s speaking as they run, but it’s all incomprehensible noise as her heart thunders in her ears as he pulls her through the trees and out to the other side of the island into the bay.

He points to the horizon - there’s a boat in the far, far distance.

“Oh my God!”

Frankie starts jumping up and down, waving his hands around and yelling. She starts doing the same too; her lungs and throat burning from the strain of her screams and wails.

The boat is a tiny white dot in the distance, glimmering as the light hits against it from the sun; it’s definitely there and not a mirage.

Jude looks around and realises the fire is on the other side of the island, on the rocky beach, and the hills are covering the wispy smoke. The boat won’t see it.

“HEY! HEY!” Frankie yells like he’s possessed.

“WE’RE HERE!” Jude screams at the top of her lungs.

She sees the flash of the boat again and they both stop shouting, realising with a swamping dread that the boat is disappearing from the horizon - it’s leaving.

“No!” She gasps.

“Come on, we can swim!” Frankie runs towards the water’s edge and she watches, horrified, as he dives into the sea after running fast through the shallows.

“Frankie, stop!” She runs after him as he powers through the waves. “Frankie!” She splutters as he swims further away from her.

“We can make it!” He shouts back at her.

“It’s miles out! It’ll be long gone before we can even catch up to it!” She protests, water splashing in her ears.

He doesn’t seem to hear her as he carries on swimming, lost to all rational reason and thinking.

“Frankie! STOP!” She yells at him again.

She catches up to him and reaches for his shoulder pulling him back. He tries to shake her off, but he stops dead in the water as she reaches for him again.

“Frankie, please! It’s gone!”

He looks back at her after being still; eerily unmoved and silent on the water’s surface for a few moments. The look on his face is worryingly blank and chills her to the bone immensely.

Frankie simply swims back past her, defeated and towards the shore; she follows with a racing heart.

When he reaches the shoreline he stomps up it, dripping wet and stops in his tracks, his hands balled into fists.

Several looks sweep across his face, similar in how a chameleon adapts to his surroundings; fear, frustration and then abject fury.

He stands before Jude, drenched and barefooted as she is, with a look of utter distaste continually changing and morphing on his face, shaking his head vehemently with flaring nostrils.

“Frankie.” She reaches out to touch him, but flinches away as he absolutely loses his shit.

He picks up rocks and hurls them into the sea with all of his might. Cursing and yelling out in Spanish profanities.

"¡Sácame de esta maldita isla! ¡Dios, ayúdame! ¡Infierno! Maldito hijo de puta! FUCK! FUCK!” (Get me off this damn island! God, help me! Hell! You fucking bastard!)

Frankie bellows and heaves, and eventually falls upon his knees in the sand, worn out; his fists squeezing and shaking in anger.

Jude becomes numb; frozen in her stance with eyes open wide, mouth opening wider. Unwilling and unable to move, for at that moment he controls everything on that beach front with his searing rage.

She can only watch horrified as his distilled and purified agony engulfs him as it rips him apart from the inside out.

She approaches him cautiously, and then clutches him in her arms and holds him tight. She hears him wheeze and gasp out through strangled, incoherent yells and groans dying in his native language as they shrink back into his hoarse throat.

He eventually breaks completely, sobbing inside her arms. His body is a rumbling earthquake as he gasps into her shoulder and chest, clutching on tightly to her.

What makes you cry, Frankie?

It’s enough to render Jude teary too, and they hold each other as she realises, aghast, that any shred of remaining hope that Frankie had been carrying all this time, had just died a horrible death in front of her.

She looks back out to the horizon in the desperate hope that the boat has re-appeared and is coming back for them.

It doesn’t. No-one comes back for them.

To be continued...

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nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma · 28 days

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HOTD stans: "Ugh those TB fans whining over every change and insisting HOTD is biased against them. Don't they think that maybe the writers made changes just so the story would be more interesting, not because Otto Hightower placed a gun to their head? Don't they see how much more interesting and complex the characters are now than in their fictional history book?"

also HOTD stans: "The Greens are just so much more interesting though. Sorry Rhaenyra, on principle I do support female succession. But you, Jakey boy and the rest of the pot plants just can't compete with Alicent and her poor tortured fucked up kids. They are THE dysfunctional family they are just so much more interesting-"

Wait... you mean ignoring half the cast didn't make them more interesting? Could it possibly be that bias isn't just a case of which side is portrayed as sympathetic, but which side is given attention?

Nah, of course not. I mean, a script direction stating that Jacaerys had already gone through an offscreen identity crisis over his parentage years ago and had come to terms with it? I thought that was so much more interesting than actually depicting it. I'm glad they got rid of Jace being bullied and focused on Aemond instead - it really made Jace a much more interesting character. Exploring the internalised shame of being a bastard, or what it's like to be constantly targeted and bullied by a kingsguard knight whose obsessed with destroying your mother, just isn't as interesting as Aemond being sad he doesn't have a dragon, or Aegon's daddy issues.

Giving Baela and Rhaena no screentime or dialogue? Genius. I'm so much more intrigued now. When they established Rhaena's yearning for a dragon I was worried we were going to see more of her, but to my upmost relief we spent her mother's funeral following Aemond instead. And the writers appropriately only used Rhaena to keep Aemond sympathetic, by having her be the one to initiate the fight instead of him hitting a toddler - once she was done serving Aemond's character we really didn't need anything further from her.

That one-off line about Daemon ignoring Rhaena was sufficient really, no need to explore that relationship any further. Just as there was no need to explore Baela's relationship with Jace, or the girls relationship with their stepmother. Let's go back to how Aegon is so sad that he has to rape women, or Helaena's bug collection. Let's throw sympathy on Vaemond while the female heirs to Driftmark stand silently in the background. Let's fart around in a Green-centric episode with a 100% stake-free race to find Aegon first. Let's throw in a scene of Larys masturbating over the Queen's feet, because the more powerless she is the more we can see Olivia Cooke's beautiful brown eyes weeping. The Blacks certainly don't need their own episode to breathe.

Sure, I did feel bad for book Rhaenyra when she was ordered away to effective exile on Dragonstone by her own father after the fight at Driftmark. And when her father almost called her home again to be his Hand, but then prioritised placating his wife and chose Otto instead. That sure SOUNDS like a compelling father-daughter conflict on paper. Perhaps we COULD have seen the tragic tale of a daughter whose father keeps failing to fight for her and unwittingly sabotages her, as his peacekeeping 'neutrality' effectively chooses his wife over her time and time again.

But I don't know, there was just something about Rhaenyra voluntarily bouncing because 'the wise sailor steers to avoid the storm' that felt much more intriguing than being forced away by her own father. Rhaenyra staying away for years was much more intriguing than her father passing her over as Hand. It really made the moment where Viserys drags his corpse out of bed to defend her stand out, you know? And it let us keep the focus on how Alicent is sad that her husband doesn't appreciate her, because the more victimised interesting Alicent is, the more interesting everyone is!

Daemon bashing his wife's head in with a rock also really made him more grey as a character.

As did Rhaenys slaughtering the smallfolk and championing the Geneva Convention the very next episode. That writing decision definitely had nothing to do with shock value. I mean, when asked why she didn't just end the war there and then we got solid Watsonian explanations such as 'it wasn't my war to start' or 'she wouldn't do that to another mother' (women, right?). That's how you know that creatively it made sense, because they wanted it to happen. Where was she keeping that change of armour?

Who needs Laena matchmaking to secure Driftmark and the Iron Throne for her daughters when she can spend her time wishing for self-immolation? Who needs Laena trying to fly one last time, desperate for that last taste of freedom before she dies, when she can instead kill herself via self-immolation?

Laenor faking his death via the murder of an innocent bystander and leaving the charred remains of the body to traumatise his parents and children (whose biological father has just died in a fire)? That needs no further exploration, I'm sure that didn't psychologically scar Jace and Luke any more than Laena's self-immolation affected her daughters. All that matters is we didn't bury our gays, isn't that great? This way Laenor didn't get assassinated, just his character!

I mean, we could have had Laenor's death be a tragic mystery, with unconfirmed rumours that Daemon had a hand in it. We could have placed the audience in Rhaenyra's point of view, we could have watched her grapple with the doubt, struggle over whether it's a possibility she can live with. We could have had the moment she gets passed over as Hand be the moment she decides to marry Daemon, like in the book. That could have said something interesting about her character and their relationship. But on second thoughts, "we'll fake Laenor's death and then we can be the ultimate power couple and RULE THE WORLD" was much more sophisticated.

Oh, and de-aging Aegon the Younger? Just look at the emotional range on that baby.

The casting for Addam and Alyn too... Honestly, not just their casting, I think overall the decision to cast characters aged 13-15 with grown adults is really going to underscore the tragedy of their stolen childhoods. It worked for Game of Thrones!

Nettles? Don't we have enough black women in the background?

#hotd critical #team black #pro team black #house of the dragon #pro rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #laena velaryon #valyrianscrolls #laenor velaryon

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canonfeminine · 2 days

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　　FLOWER GIRL AND WATER BOY

🎀💐 ₊˚⊹♫ … Percy Jackson x Human! Florist! Reader

in which: Percy seems to always end up in your shop, no matter the circumstances.

authors note: y'all, I gotta come clean about this.. this was supposed to be a Frank fic but I don't think this would fit him 😭. as much as I love my mans Frank, I gotta give him something that works with him, yk?

warnings: mention an injury & of death ( but only like once )

Having your own flower shop was always a part of the plan.

For generations, the very store you stood in has been a shop of any kind. Groceries, clothes, jewelry, books—anything you could think of, it was probably stored in the place before. Though, after the death of your grandparent, the story was passed down to you. And since you loved flowers, of course you turned it into a flower shop.

Now, being a small business owner and a student in New York was pretty difficult. Especially getting money because most people would go to the bigger, larger stories with less authentic things. But thankfully, your friends and classmates made sure to help out.

They made flyers which helped more people come in, and they would come in whenever they could (even if they didn't need flowers.) They knew you ran the store by yourself, and you appreciated their help.

Though, there was one more thing you loved about having the shop open.

There was this boy that went to your school, Percy Jackson (who you found out that his real name is Perseus and not Percy,) that you weren't that close with. He seemed cool to you, of course. But something that kinda threw you off was that girls (and boys) just naturally traveled to him.

Look, a wise woman once said (aka you mother,) "don't go for a dude with too many girls (and boys) around him. It doesn't ever end up well."

So you took that advice with you everywhere you went. No matter how charming or amazing the dude was, he would always have to show that he didn't care about the attention he was getting—and that he cared more about you than any of it.

And.. well, Percy had been showing that he didn't care.

Each time he would come into the shop, you thought he was here to get flowers from the shop for his potential next partner, but most of the time it was for his little sister or mom.

Or it was to talk to you.

You didn't know what he found so interesting in you, but he always found a way to talk himself into a conversation with you. Not that you minded, of course. Percy was a pretty cool dude. But there was something about him, like this odd feeling that you got in your stomach. But you just assumed it was you getting nervous.

But one day, Percy came into your shop (like he normally did,) but he seemed more nervous this time. More anxious, more afraid, and really? just not.. Percy. "Hey, Percy!" You greeted him, looking away from the flowers you were wrapping for a customer.

"Hey..Uhm, can I ask a really weird question?" He asked, walking up to the front desk.

You nodded and smiled. "Yeah? I work in a flower shop. I get asked odd questions all the time."

Percy slightly laughed, but winced. At that point, you had noticed he was holding his side. "So, I kinda fell off my skateboard and messed up my side.." He lifted up his shirt, showing the very obvious large, bleeding cut on his side. "Do you have a med kit I coul-"

At this point, you were already looking behind the desk for one. You knew you had one, with how clumsy a lot of passerby's are, sometimes you just need one. But that? I think we can both tell it had to be more than that.

"Here." You got back up and placed the medkit onto the desk. "You gonna need help with that?" You asked, looking at him with a concerned look.

"Would it be weird if I said yes?" Percy asked in return.

"Nah, it would be weirder if I said no."

[Little time skip :3]

At some point between you finishing patching Percy up, You could have sworn a customer had in. And since you were pretty much done with helping him, you were about to excuse yourself so you could help them out.

But before you could get up, Percy looked over at you. "Hey, Uhm, [Name]?"

"Hm?" You looked at him, a slightly confused look on your face.

"Thanks.. again. I know it's kinda weird to be helping someone you don't really know that well, but I really do appreciate it." He leaned up and smiled.

"No problem! I mean, you seem pretty cool and even if I don't really know you, it seems like you have a good reputation in the school." You nudged his shoulder.

"Do I?" He blushed. "I-I mean, yeah. I guess I do.." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Can I say one more weird thing?"

"Go ahead."

"I kinda want to be friends with you..?" He said slowly.

"Why is that a weird thing to say?" You laughed. "I wanna be friends with you too, Percy."

"Really?" He asked in a surprised tone.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, really. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go help this customer." You got up, but before you left, you gave Percy a smile.

And he smiled back.

#𓂃 ✴: zuri’s fics!#guys this is so pookie #like I knew it was going to be cute??#but still #Percy Jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa

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beiasluv · 1 year

Note

hi im in love with ur writing

anyway

my bby boy neteyam and aonung need to be happy because that last fic destroyed me, what would happen if reader survived and the sully family just cling to her for days same with aonung

a/n: glad to hear that people are suffering (just joking 😳, writing that took a part of my soul as well) anyways, fluff to the rescue 🤍 / this would be a continuation of part 1 but just imagine and do your own editing that you survived

masterlist

enjoy! :)

surprise, the sullys were doubting if they would be able to save you in time. neteyam sprinting to the village on his ilu and holding on to your body as fast as he could

while his family are fighting against the demon-blooded na’vi, he couldn’t muster up a will to go one glimpse away from you. your boy was holding on to his dear lifee

ronal, the tsahik, sighed once more of the sight before her. another sully for her to save; but she waited no second, and dove right into it.

“boy, put pressure on her chest …now!” neteyam got into work as his shakiness submerged to his hand. as if everything was a blur, ronal finished her ceremony on your body and stitched up your open, now opened chest. the herbs and the smoke lingered in the air after ronal went out, but her spirit never left the marui. the tsahik, herself, cared greatly for whom her son adored.

your boi, neteyam is panicking to the panicking. he washed a cold cloth over your face every minute and every second he sees a sweat running down your face. big brother mode to the max. swatting every flies that dared to touch you.

he would tell stories, make jokes, and laughing by himself to preserve his sanity. admiring your face, something he wouldn’t do while you are awake. unexpected sobs and tears, here and there. he waited for you until the end.

jake and neytiri came rushing through when they’ve finished. jake holding on to your body as tight as he could. pressing his hand against your chest, making sure there is still a heartbeat in you.

neytiri’s eye fluctuated between anger, sadness, and love. she couldn’t decide whether what to feel in the heat of the moment. her daughter, the daughter of the clan, the awaited daughter, was sleeping mindlessly on the mattress. she didn’t know what to feel. neytiri often broke down quietly in front of your marui and the sullys would comfort her.

our boi, lo’ak, peaked at your marui every. day. he would be too shy to go in alone and express his feelings towards you. when he doesn’t even know if you are aware or still coming back, he would break tf down. 😭

kiri and tuk, the girlss. taking care of you everyday, slayed. they would do your hair and singing lullaby. kiri would occasionally sobs but she had to stay strong for tuk. tuk would cry and lay on your stomach, maybe sometimes curling under your arms ;-;

SPIDER 👁👁 nah, he ain’t surviving. in the heat of the conversation, he did not choose a wise choice of words. now, he’s regretting his life choices. neteyam giving him disgusting looks everyday. lo’ak almost gifted him with a chance to go see ewya.

he still thinks you should’ve been left for good. quaritch made it clear to him blah, blah, blah. “if only one dies for jake sully, then we’re done.” no, we are not having any of your shi

ao’nung sad boyy. a certified lover boy, caring for your condition, as he should. always always ask his mom how are you and if she could help you again. tsireya started getting sick of him, slay

“mother, are you sure that’s all you could do?” he marched swiftly after her. “there must be something you could discover.”

“no means no, ao’nung, it is up to the great mother,” she replied swatting his arm. “you worry for no good, she is strong, i can feel that her spirit is mighty.”

“a sick lover boy, i see,” tsireya giggled. “don’t worry, she’s going to make it.”

ao’nung bringing snacks and flowers to your marui everyday as. he. should. i mean, placing them nicely by your bedside, and throwing them at neteyam. almost cost them a fight but for the sake of you, they agreed to seize the war.

he will definitely kill anyone who mocks you and your condition 100%

until the moment they have waited for arrived, you twitched.

neteyam almost got a heart attack. he was as excited as a mom to a baby’s first kick.

“y/n! y/n! thank the great mother! yes! my baby sister! I knew it!” he jumped around the marui like a maniac, earning looks from the villagers around him. the news traveled far and fast; moments later the sullys and ronal’s family were filling the marui.

“y/n, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand two times,” jake spoke softly. “one…c’mon babygirl…one more…two! yes!” the whole marui celebrated as if you were running and flying, but that’s what family is for, right?

everyday you healed more and more. your first walk out of the marui was like a flashback to your first walk. jake holding your arm, neytiri holding your other arm, and lo’ak holding your waist.

“guys, i can walk” “we know.”

lo’ak feeding you foods, 10/10

jake will spoil you, amen. his baby girl wants, she will get. you don’t even have to move an inch to get something you want.

kiri and tuk are not as protective, which you appreciated a lot, but they are always supportive. kiri will encourage you to take a dip in the ocean, playing in the forest, or doing the things you love to do.

hugs and kisses every moment they could. aaaaaa

family cuddling time. jake will hold you in his embrace and snuggled you close to him. neytiri holding you two. the rest snuggled in and you guys are basically a family ball.

the family overall is clinging on to you to make sure you’re okay. as they said, sullys sticks together, am i right.

ao’nunggggg

they day you woke up he was so happy, running down the village to your marui. got him blushing and shi when you met his eyes in the corner.

tsireya is so relieved when she heard you woke up, she thought have to comfort her broken brother while being broken herself.

ao’nung just clings to you wherever you go. he will get anyone out of your way if it is necessary.

he just loves to bring you out to the ocean and spend time with you, awh. practice breathing underwater and chasing underwater is a must.

once he realized he almost lose his chance. one day, he managed to muster up a courage to ask you OUT.

“y/n, you wanna see baby ilus today?” he guided you through the village. “today is their first day coming out.”

“sure, are you luring me to somewhere private?” “are you doing to kill me?”

“of course not,” he tucked a hair behind your ear.

…

“y/n, i gotta tell you something,” he gazed into your eyes. “i- i…”

“yes?”

“i see you, but i don’t know if you see too,” he sighed. “I know, i have been a bad friend to your brothers but i am trying so hard for you. and you sleeping unconscious for weeks had me dying-“ you placed a peck on his soft blue lips and held his hand.

“i know, thank you,” you giggled at his red cheeks. “thought you were cold blooded but your face is so red now.”

“hey! it’s just so hot here!” “i guess this calls for a slash in the ocean,” without a second word, he pulled you into the ocean and called his ilu. you guys rode it into the reefs and entered a hiding leaf.

“i see you, y/n”

“i see you, too”

lost of love ❤️ happy new year and have a great time! today’s a great day to take care of yourself 🤍

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @loudcolorwolfgarden / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

#avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar #neteyam imagine #lo’ak imagine #jake sully imagine #neytiri #neteyam x reader #fanfiction

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solar-wing · 7 months

Text

⚣ Mind Yours 🤫

⚣🤫 A/N → Custom Spiderman drawing done by daviid.art on Instagram! Check out his work! Thank you! Always credit your fellow creators people. Anyway, first Miguel O'Hara fic. I think this was born out of my genuine disdain for him story-wise for trying to *spoiler bleep sound*, but also, from the fact that I'd let this man eat me like a Sunday dinner: no leftovers. Yeah...I said it. WARNINGS: Bit cringe but oh well. Flirty vibes (towards the end), Jealousy & Possessiveness, implied size kink.

⚣🤫 Summary → Okay, let's recap: Being one of the newly invited members into the Spider Society or Elite Force (what is the official name for this place anyway), there's a lot to take in. For one and probably the most pressing, why the hell is Miguel O'Hara always in Y/N's business? Does that man not have an entire Spiderman Task Force to run? And seriously, WHAT IS THE OFFICIAL TITLE OF THIS PLACE?!

⚣🤫 Words → 2.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤫

The Spider Society.

No, the Spidermen Elite Task Force.

Nah, that’s stupid too. What about the Spidey Watch Force?

Seriously?

Alright, names could be dealt with later. But, at some point, Y/N was going to have to figure out what the official name for this place was. It was enough when he was recruited by his mentor, Peter Parker B. Why he had the B on his hand, he didn’t initially understand until he came to HQ and realized just how many different versions of him there were.

Yeah, the B was necessary.

Anyway, Peter took him on as a mentor when their recruiting department, if that was the official title for it, singled him out as a candidate with high potential. He said that Y/N reminded him a lot of another one of his unofficial mentees named Miles. The recruit noted that he seemed to hear that name a lot around the place, but not always in the most positive manner. Especially from their leader, Spiderman 2099, or Miguel O’Hara officially.

Speaking of that dude, Y/N was getting more and more concerned with how much attention the guy seemed to be paying to him. He figured in the beginning, he just wanted to keep an eye on him to see how he was doing and make sure he was following protocols. It made sense, but as time went on and he continued to just always be around, that’s when the recruit started to get a bit weirded out.

Miguel was an interesting person, to say the least. Quiet and broody, a bit obsessive, and a lot irritable. but one who tended to have a flare for the dramatic. When he met the new recruit, most saw his interaction with him as typical behavior. However, those closest to him, like Lyla, Jess, and Peter, knew better.

When Peter brought Y/N to Miguel’s office to introduce the new recruit, which the Hispanic Spidey personally requested, he was his typical sarcastic and cold self. What surprised everyone was when he offered to personally mentor Y/N, saying Peter had more important things to deal with like his (at the time) pregnant wife.

Y/N appreciated the offer but chose to stick with Peter. He didn’t mention that Miguel sort of creeped him out and made him feel intimidated, figuring that would make things any better. Of course, his original mentor had to go and make it awkward anyway by gloating at how great of a mentor he had to be.

Jess, of course, disagreed with that statement.

There was no visual reaction from the Hispanic man, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wasn’t happy with Y/N’s decision. But, could you blame the guy?!

Peter made training fun. He found ways to make things seem more fun and comical than they would’ve seemed in the moment. He always had a lightheartedness to his teachings and would use the most interesting (questionable) examples when helping Y/N solve a problem.

Miguel didn’t mentor that many people from what the recruit saw, and just from those sights, he could see why. He took things way too seriously. Always looking at things from a negative or sarcastic point of view. The man was stubborn as hell, refusing to believe that you could teach and guide without being an obsessive hard-ass 24/7.

In his mind, he was only teaching discipline and responsibility. Y/N made a joke saying his teachings are probably the blueprint for what sends people to therapy. Jess, Lyla, and Peter all laughed while Miguel just scowled from afar.

But, it didn’t stop there.

The more time Y/N spent in the task force, the more he noticed how Miguel was always finding reasons or excuses to be in his business. It wasn’t just routine checkups and one-on-ones as most would expect.

Miguel was virtually finding any way he could stick his nose truly where it didn’t belong. Y/N found it annoying and a bit obsessive, while Peter, Jess, and even Hobie eventually all saw it for what it was. Typically, most Spider-people were not known for being the most discreet when it came to someone they were interested in.

It started with small stuff; Miguel constantly calling Y/N into his for the smallest of things. He didn’t like how he handled this mission, should’ve called for backup on that mission, make sure he doesn’t interfere with canon events, yada yada yada.

Then, it started with small comments about whatever Y/N was doing. Him being on his phone too much, spending too much time goofing around with Peter and the other Spiders, and taking too many trips home when he wanted to see his family.

Anything that had to do with Y/N, the big-bodied muscled Latin had something to say about it, even when he wasn’t present. He’d come across some Spiders who had been partnered with the mentee on the last few missions. He overheard one of them making a suggestive comment and it did not sit well with him for obvious reasons.

The next day, Y/N was confused as to why he was suddenly being pulled from all missions with his previous comrades. Though he never did find out exactly why, he had a strong suspicion of who more or less was responsible for it. And not just because the order came directly from them, but that added to it

It only got more interesting when Y/N got his new mission assignments from Peter, and he saw that he was “coincidentally” paired with Miguel on all of them. The mentee looked at his mentor with confusion and annoyance and only got a shrug in response and an empathetic apology.

Jess and the computer hologram also gave him sympathetic responses but gave their friend and leader suspicious and not-impressed ones when they met with him later that day. Of course, Miguel played innocent and oblivious, acting as if he was only doing this to help improve Y/N’s abilities and skills out in the field since he observed some specific areas where he was lacking.

“Oh, you’re observing all right…” Peter mumbled under his breath to which Jess and Lyla both giggled.

Miguel was not tickled.

The missions, as expected, were a lot. On multiple occasions, Y/N felt like he was ready to either strangle Miguel or himself. Whichever came first was completely out of his hands.

Miguel was on him for every single thing he did, but the gag was that he wasn’t even doing much since the control freak would always push Y/N behind him, taking on whatever enemy or threat himself. He’d usually just end up doing things like crowd control, getting civilians and innocents out of danger, and jumping in whenever his leader got overwhelmed.

Yet, that wasn’t even the worst part.

During these “intimate” times together (if you could even call it that), Miguel would take it upon himself to start asking innocent little questions. Of course, only if you define ‘innocent’ as very invasive in Y/N’s personal business. In that case, Miguel was an angel sent from heaven.

There were many kinds of questions, but they mostly were focused on Y/N’s personal life, specifically his relationships whether platonic or non-platonic. If, by this point, it hasn’t occurred that Miguel doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body, especially when it comes to keeping his “possessive” nature under control, then let it be known now.

Miguel’s jealousy was obvious as shit.

Yet, the only one who was oblivious to it was Y/N, who was getting more and more irritated and frustrated with every question in his life about why he was talking to this one person, and why didn’t he accept Miguel as a mentor. Physically incapable of letting shit go.

That topic made frequent appearances in their conversations where Miguel would go into one of his sarcastic and moody rants about Peter not being a fit mentor and how he would do so much better. The man was petty and could hold a grudge, and this seemed to be one he would not let go of for a long time.

At some point, Y/N had enough and went radio silent. Not completely, though. He told Peter that he was taking some time off and gonna stay in his dimension for a bit, to give himself a break from Miguel.

When he returned home, he left his watch buried in his desk and turned whatever communications or alerts he could off. As you can imagine, this did not sit well with Miguel, who probably was the only one who was consistently trying to contact Y/N, demanding to know why he wasn’t reporting in for their meetings or missions.

He would’ve gone to Peter and demanded he tell him what was going on, but he didn’t trust that soon-to-be father would give him the answer he wanted. So, he took matters into his own hands and made his way to Earth–6998.

Imagine Y/N’s surprise when he came home to a tall, buff-ass, brooding vampire Spiderman waiting in his bedroom with his watch in hand.

“Oh my god! Are you serious? You followed me home, broke into my house, and went through my drawer? And you’re sitting on my bed with outside clothes on?!” Y/N snapped.

That last one was just plain rude.

Miguel moved himself off the bed, his mask still on hiding his mildly guilty and awkward face.

“Why haven’t you reported to HQ? You missed three assignments, and I had to fix and fight a bunch of anomalies on my own.” Miguel demanded in his usual gruff manner.

“Because I’m taking a vacation, that’s why. And said vacation starts with me now washing my sheets and you leaving.” Y/N huffed before bumping past the taller man. He roughly pulled his sheets and pillowcases off his bed, gathering them in his arms before stomping towards the door, heading for his in-unit washer and dryer.

Miguel was hot on his trail, though, not planning on following the smaller Spiderman’s order in the slightest.

He was the boss last time he checked.

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’ve been ignoring me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes while grabbing the detergent and fabric softener off the shelves from above, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. You may be in charge when it comes to your little Spider Society or Task Force or whatever you freaking call it, but when it comes to my life and my personal business, I answer to me, myself, and I only.”

After setting the washer and turning it on, he closed the lid before turning around, being met with a towering and bulky frame standing over him, not giving him much room to move past considering the tight space.

“I’d appreciate it if you would move out my way,” Y/N irritably asked, though his tone indicated that it was definitely not an ‘ask’ and more like a ‘get the fuck out my way.’

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting like a brat and ignoring me.” Miguel retorted.

“Ignoring you? IGNORING you?! How could I possibly ignore you when you constantly force your way into my life every single day? I can’t do anything or go anywhere without you two steps behind me or constantly asking me something that is, quite frankly, none of your concern! So, again, I am going to ask as politely as I can that you remove yourself from my home and learn how to mind yours. And, just so there’s no confusion, I 100% mean sticking your nose out of my business!”

Y/N went to bump past the stronger Spidey before he felt a large and tight grip on his upper arm, his whole body being pulled back before being shoved against the adjacent wall to the washing machine. Miguel crowded him against the surface, his body dwarfing him in size and leaving any possible room for him to move or try to escape.

Miguel leaned down into the young Spider’s face, his mask dematerializing over his face, showing the smug and flirty expression that was hiding under.

“You are my business, and I’ll continue doing as I please until you get it through your oblivious, tiny brain. Now, I’ll finish your sheets while you go get suited up, put your watch back on, and bring your ass back to HQ. We have a mission tonight, and then, we’re going to have a nice, long talk after.”

“And, just exactly how are you planning to make me do that?” Y/N pushed back, even if a small part of him wanted to give in, considering how so not hot he was finding this.

He had a thing for aggressive and dominant guys; sue him.

“Well, for starters, I can easily just say forget the sheets, toss you over my shoulder, and drag you back to HQ, whether you like it or not. But, I’d figured it’d be more considerate if I allowed you to return on your own choice.”

There was a silent pause between the two males, Miguel’s red eyes staring deep into Y/N’s who held a defiant glint in his own irises. A silent challenge was being waged between the two, seeing who would cave first, and considering the position he was already in, it was safe to say the smaller Spidey wouldn’t be winning this one, no matter how many webs or one-liners he shot out.

“Didn’t think the word considerate was in your vocabulary. Fine. But, I’m just doing the mission, and then I’m leaving.” Y/N caved, still somewhat in a defiant mood. Really, he was pushing the waters to see how far he could go.

Miguel raised an amused eyebrow before leaning up, giving the smaller Spider room to move. Just as Y/N moved out of his grasp, he felt a hot sting on his rear end. His hands went to cover his throbbing tushie while turning to see a cocky look on his face, the guilty gloved hand with the claws extended caught in the act.

“Remember who’s in charge here. Mind yours, Y/N, and I’ll mind mine.”

☀️ | Miguel O'Hara/Spiderman-2099 | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

281 notes · View notes

theaudacitytowrite · 4 months

Text

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

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Divider by @talesmaniac89

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