Companions react to ss being hit on and companions getting kinda jelly.
Cait - Now, what the hell does this tramp think she’s doing? Cait intends to put a stop to this before it has any time to even begin. With an unsettling smile she gets right into the rival’s face and says just loud enough for her and Sole to hear: “You’re real pretty, aren’t ya? Want to stay that way?” The girl gives Cait a nasty look before turning away and walking off. Cait looks pleased with herself and Sole pulls her close, a stupid smile on their face. To think Cait would get jealous so easily…
Curie - It is a new emotion. And a very irritating one, for the matter. Why is that woamn so close and why is she leaning even closer? Sole doesn’t seem like they are enjoying it very much. She catches their eye and they pull her close to them. That emotion is slowly dying in shadows in a different emotion, this mean kind of happiness. “Hello, my name is Curie. Who are you?” said Curie with the sweetest smile. Without another word, the lady leaves, leaving Curie to snuggle even closer to her Sole.
Danse - He silently watches them, a frown on his face. He’s waiting for Sole to show any kind of discomfort, but doesn’t want to make a scene and embarrass both Sole and himself. He’s red from anger, when he sees this man reach out for their waist. Sole chuckles nervously and flinches away from the man’s touch. That’s the signal Danse needed. He stands right behind Sole, towering over the man. “Is everything alright, love?” he asks. When the man walks away, trying to act like he’s been just joking, Sole chuckles: “Love, huh? So you looove me?” Danse’s face reddens a bit as he wraps his arms around Sole’s shoulders from behind.
Deacon - Oh he is so ready for this, he knew this day would come and he couldn’t be more excited. He waits for the right moment, before running up to Sole and ferociously hugging them so tight they are gasping for air. All the while he’s almost screaming: “Oh, darling! I am so glad you’re okay!” he releases them quickly to grab their face and pull it inches from his own, “If something happened to you… if anyone hurt you…” he pulls them even closer, “I’d skin them and from the skin I’d make us a blanket…” When the guy that’s been flirting with them walks away with a creeped out expression, both Sole and Deacon burst out into laughing.
Hancock - He knows he is going to enjoy this as he steps closer to Sole, pulling them close to him and cutting that fucker’s sentence short. “Ah, where are my manners. I am Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor and this lovely piece of ass,” he pulls Sole even closer, “is my piece of ass. And now,” stepping away from Sole and closer to the creep, he pulled out his knife, just so it was visible, “Now I must ask you to find your way out.” The guy gave both Hancock and Sole a very nasty look, but did as he was told. “Wow,” Sole said after a while, “that was… kinda hot.” Hancock chuckled and put the blade away, turning back to his piece of ass, “All I do, I do for you, baby.”
MacCready - He’s been standing behind them the whole time, seemingly more interested in his gun than what was going on right before him. If Sole had to be honest, they were getting a bit irritated with the man that seemed to lack the knowledge of good pick-up lines. They also felt a bit lovelorn, that MacCready didn’t try to put an end to this. After a particulary nasty pick-up line, they were just about to tell the guy off, when they heard a cough behind them. Sole noticed MacCready staring intently at the guy, then very slowly reloading his gun, making sure the creep was watching. With his hands in front of him, the guy backed away. “So that’s why you were toying with it the whole time…” said Sole. MacCready smiled: “I aim to please.”
Nick Valentine - He wasn’t the one to cause jealous scenes, but he felt very, very uncomfortable watching Sole trying to politely tell the guy before them to leave them alone. Everytime they tried to, though, the guy just came up with another reason to stay and Nick didn’t have to be human to see that Sole was as uncomfortable as himself. He finally decided to step in, but keep it as subtle as possible. One of his arms went around their waist and he pulled them close. Sole instantly leaned into his embrace and Nick felt their gratitude filled eyes on him. He thought he heard the guy whisper something like ‘fucking freaks’ before he walked away, but he honestly couldn’t care less.
Piper - Oh she didn’t like this situation one bit. At first, she thought she was just oversensitive, that they were just talking and she was being silly. Well, this feeling soon left her, as she watched the woman in front of Sole coming closer and closer to them, resulting in then backing away ever so slightly. Now, Piper could survive some tramp flirting with Sole, but she did not approve of said tramp proceed to make them uncomfortable, even though they were making it clear they weren’t interested. Coming in front of the woman, Piper said: “Hi! I’m Piper Wright of Publick Occurances, I’m making an article about STDs and the bartender told me you could share many stories with me.” Well, the day ended with a very offended lady and with Piper and Sole laughing their butts off.
Preston - He wasn’t exactly sure of what to do. He wanted to put an end to this at once, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to embarrass Sole by being overprotective. Telling the guy to ‘fuck off’ was probably too much, but just telling Sole they needed to go kind of seemed too little. ‘Keep it subtle, but sure, Preston.’ he told himself as he walked to Sole’s side, his arm dropping over their shoulders. “Hey, babe, missed me?” said Preston just loud enough for Sole and the guy to hear. He finished his sentence with a soft kiss to their temple. With satisfaction, he watched mr. Flirtypants show his way to another poor patron of the bar.
X6-88 - As monotone as he normally is, he doesn’t like this situation one bit. After all, Sole gave themselves to him and him only, what right does this lowlife have to flirt with them, to even look at them like this. After the third time he catches the guy pretty much undressing them with his beady eyes and Sole squirming in discomfort, he pretty much drags them away, his body very close to theirs. When he hears the creep shout ‘Hey!’ after them, he turns around and says in a quiet voice: “You. Scram.” Just X6′s posture seemed to intimidate the guy, as he took off, guffing in annoyance.
yall are requesting so much steve angst rn it’s great
Prompt /song; ‘Maybe a thief stole your heart, or maybe we just drifted apart’ - The Way It Was, The Killers
Other characters featured;
Maybe a thief stole your heart, or maybe we just drifted apart’ - The Way It Was, The Killer. An angsty readerXCaptain America set after Civil War. The reader was obviously in love with Steve, but he’s into Sharon Carter. They can either get together or the reader is left heartbroken. (I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen this before).
The sounds of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s evacuation are loud and chaotic, but Loki Laufeyson neither cares nor notices the minor distraction. He rises from where he kneels, the tesseract’s energy leaving wisps of smoke that curl and twist around his body.
His travel through space had been easier, much easier than he had anticipated. Almost natural, he would say, with the tesseract’s power.
Loki’s eyes casually sweep the room, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He is on Midgard, just as planned. The room he finds himself in is large, and the prince guesses that it rests deep within the earth. The cavernous area is lined with glowing technologies, equipment working hard to read and understand a power far too great for humanity.
It sits within the belly of a machine, and he has to force himself to look away from it.
There are mortals in the room, and the agents with guns creep closer with wary caution. However, there are three who watch the God of Mischief in a different manner, whose gazes cut between him and the ornate, golden weapon clasped tightly in his fist.
The man dressed in black, the one with the eyepatch that reminds Loki too much of his family, is the first to speak. “Sir. Please, put down the spear.”
This is not a request, but an order, given in a deep, commanding tone. Loki raises an eyebrow, pausing to look down at his golden scepter with an expression of something akin to amusement.
In less than a second, before Nick Fury has time to blink, Loki thrusts the blade of the weapon towards him. The blue gem nested in the ornate scepter flashes, and a burst of energy flies towards S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director.
Taking out mortals is almost too easy, especially when compared to a lifetime of facing Asgardian foes. Loki is a blur of motion, cutting through the agents as if they were paper rather than flesh and blood. Their weapons cannot break his skin – guns firing lead bullets that rapidly ping off his armor one after the other.
The Asgardian leaps into the air, Earth’s gravity not quite heavy enough to pull him back right away, and he comes down blade first onto a soldier. The man’s breath leaves his lungs in a quiet gasp as he dies, and Loki is disgusted at the weakness.
More guns fire from behind the prince, and he spins around impossibly fast, his hand flashing as his knives fly through the air and meet their targets. Another man attacks from the side, and Loki points his scepter towards the foe. The resulting energy sears through the agent’s chest, killing him before his body hits the ground.
It is quiet now, save for the alarms blaring in the distance, continuing to signal the need for escape. Broken machines spark and hiss, flashing readings to no one. Loki watches those left in the room, carefully wiping blood from his scepter’s golden blade.
The man with the eyepatch lives, as do several other of his agents. They look to their director, as if awaiting orders. Loki notes that they’ve been smart enough to stand down after witnessing his carnage, and he decides he’ll make use of them.
The Asgardian takes a step forward, habitually spinning his weapon, and is surprised when a fiery-eyed agent attempts to block his path. There is hatred in this man’s eyes; an all too familiar burning. No fear lives there.
The man goes for his pistol, but Loki is quicker. He grasps the agent’s arm, studying him carefully as he struggles. “You have heart,” Loki decides, nodding slowly.
He brings the scepter up to rest upon the center of the man’s chest, the sharp blade barely pushing against him.
The effect is instantaneous once the power takes hold. Clint Barton holsters his gun, his sharp gaze overtaken by a mass of starry darkness. And then blue clears the black, leaving irises of bright, piercing cobalt.
The Asgardian notes the quiver strung across the man’s back. An archer. An odd choice of weapon for a Midgardian.
“Keep watch, won’t you?” Loki asks quietly with a smile.
And then it is easy, it is nothing for the prince to move on and do the same to the other nearby agents, the gem within his scepter glowing brightly.
It is a commotion near the side of the room that makes him turn. Someone has entered the room, and they grapple with the archer. At first, Loki does not recognize the intruder. And when he does, he feels nothing but calm curiosity at the reason for her presence.
There is a flash of light, a staff appearing in the girl’s hands as she wards off the agent. Loki twirls his scepter again, pondering over whether to send others to deal with the situation.
“I would suggest something with a little more electricity to it,” Loki comments idly, his gaze already sliding towards another noise.
The director is attempting to escape, with the tesseract in tow.
“Please don’t,” Loki requests, meeting the one good eye of Nick Fury. “I still need that.”
There’s a loud zap followed by a short cry. A body falls to the floor, and Loki knows the girl has been dealt with.
“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury warns.
Loki laughs softly, the quiet noise devoid of any humor. “Oh, but it does. Much messier.”
“Who are you?” Fury asks, and even Loki is not sure what lies within his tone.
Is it anger? Incredulousness? There is something there, an almost exasperation, that hints at something dangerous. It makes the prince smile. “I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”
Fury snorts derisively. A bold move, in Loki’s opinion. But it is not the director who responds to the Asgardian’s statement.
“Loki? Brother of Thor?”
Loki fights the scowl that threatens to spread across his features. Thor. It is his relation to Thor that defines him to these people. He turns to the man who spoke, and recognizes that he needs this one, too. The scientist. The tip of the golden scepter presses just so against his chest.
Director Fury watches, his eye widening slightly at the sight of Erik Selvig’s gaze being overtaken with an unnatural blackness. He makes himself speak to Loki of Asgard. “We have no quarrel with your people.”
The statement is laughable, and so Loki’s attention is again directed towards the one-eyed man. “An ant has no quarrel with a boot, nor does prey understand the motives of the hunter. Tell me, which do you think you are? Or is it that unclear?”
His last question is more of a statement, a flat coldness seeping from underneath his casual manner.
The girl is awake. The archer has left her alive. Was it a fault of the agent, or had Loki subconsciously willed this? She could be useful, he tells himself to justify this action, to override other possible thoughts of sentiment. It is logical, after all.
“Healer,” he greets your friend, Willow.
“Wait,” Fury demands, a gloved hand rising to point between Loki and Willow, “you two know each other?”
She’s staring at the prince, her eyes wide in disbelief, and Fury’s words do not seem to reach her ears. “What are you doing here?” she whispers, carefully rising to her feet. She holds a hand to her side, where the archer had struck her. “Where have you been?”
He watches her take tentative steps forward, and he turns to keep both the girl and Fury in his sight at all times. “I’ve been on a grand journey,” Loki informs Will, a smile once more twisting across his face. “Seen sights you cannot imagine. Learned things you will never comprehend.”
“But… but what about….” And she says it. The one thing that breaks through his armor, a single word he does not wish to hear, that he cannot hear.
She says it.
He fights within his mind, pushing things down as soon as they arise: a wash of memories, feelings, sentiments, attachments. His jaw clenches, his muscles drawn tight. And in the end, he wins.
Your friend is still watching him, waiting on an answer. But there’s nothing that will make what he has done okay. He is beyond retribution, which is something he feels no need to explain. How can he? The girl has walked to him now, her accusing gaze staring up at him.
“You would not understand, Healer. And you shall not get in my way.”
And he lifts his scepter up, the blue gem glowing brightly. It reflects in her eyes as he brings it closer.
Walking back towards the city of Asgard feels surreal. It’s been a few months since you last returned, and you cringe at the thought of seeing the golden palace appear in the distance. The closer you grow to the bustling city, the more your mood begins to dip. You’re sliding quickly towards apathy, and those who normally keep your side begin to give you space.
All except Bjorn.
He’s told you that his name means ‘bear’, although you think the term a misnomer. The man isn’t a hulking brute like some of the other soldiers you march with. His hair is curly and dark, his skin the warm color of sandy earth. He is stoic, but pleasant to have conversation with. He had been the first to speak to you when you had first set out with the company.
It was nice to hear something other than whispers.
At the thought, words cascade through your mind, bringing with them a flash of heated anger.
… He left her, and right before the wedding, too….
… the Prince of Wickedness and the Bloody Warrior….
… why do you think he ….
… not worthy of a prince, anyway. Even him….
… perhaps he isn’t missing. Maybe she offed him….
You do your best to ignore the echoes of the past. It’s been over a year. No one speaks about it anymore.
Not where you can hear, at least.
“Buck up, now,” Bjorn insists, nudging your shoulder. “It’ll be good to see the city again.”
“I guess,” you reply, your voice holding no real emotion.
It makes your walking companion frown. “At least something will be going on in Asgard. I’m bored of roaming the countryside. Our last battle was ages ago.”
“A week isn’t ‘ages ago’,” you correct, shrugging.
But a year is….
You beat the thought back, but it doesn’t scurry away as fast as you’d like it to. A group of soldiers nearby break out into raucous laughter, and you turn your face away to hide your scowl.
“A dark look at something as bright as laughter,” Bjorn comments, and you cut your eyes to his.
You sigh, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth. “You can go join them, you know. Sounds like Tormund told a mighty funny joke.”
“A crass joke, I’d imagine,” Bjorn says, chuckling. “By now, we’ve heard them all. He’s not good at making up any new ones.”
You allow yourself a short laugh, and then fall into silence once more.
The sun is slowly disappearing over the horizon, and the captain calls for everyone to set up for the night.
Odin Allfather had offered you such a position, but you had declined. For months, you’d set out on your own, doing the king’s bidding, fighting his chosen battles. Eventually, others joined you. You did not care who you were with, although you always preferred to go alone.
Thor, the god of thunder, and his companions accompanied your battles at times. However, nowadays, the Warriors Three and their prince are kept too busy within the city to travel. You had thought to be alone again, but Odin had instructed you to fight alongside the Asgardian soldiers. And so you had.
You lie on your back, staring up into the night sky. You can hear the fire crackling, hear the conversations of your campmates. You’re tired, but you cannot sleep. You’re worried over what your dreams will bring you tonight.
“So, what are your plans, warrior? Once we reach the city?”
You glance over at your fellow soldier. Bjorn lays on his bedroll, his face also upturned to the starry heavens. The night is clear and cloudless.
“I’ve got a ceremony to attend,” you say, looking to the sky once more. “Meeting a friend, and then we’re both going. It’s a wizard thing.”
“A wizard thing?” Bjorn asks curiously.
You grimace. “Sorcerer thing. Whatever, you get what I mean.”
The man laughs. “Yes, by now I do.”
It helps to have a companion, a friendly voice to listen to. Still, you want to fall silent, to let your mind ease into unconsciousness. But you haven’t shaken your apprehension. Your dreams as of late… they’ve been nothing more than memories, replayed before your closed eyes. You don’t want them tonight.
They hurt too much.
You wake with a choked shout, darkness flaring out as a dagger forms in your palm. You’re staring frantically around the room, your eyes seeking danger. Sweating and shaking, your mind replays your dream, the blood vivid, the pain all too real.
And then a cool hand wraps around your wrist, easing the dagger from your grasp.
“You’re alright, love,” a voice soothes. “It’s fine.”
Only now can you truly take in your surroundings. The familiar, extravagant room, the silky bedsheets beneath your legs. The moonlight filtering in through the emerald curtains highlights the table where you love to draw, your bag sitting in one of the chairs.
The cool hand pulls you back, your dagger disappearing from his pale fingers and into the shadows from whence it came. You sink down to the bed, your warm back pressed against the smooth skin of his chest.
“A dream,” you murmur sleepily, your fingers intertwining with his as he lays an arm across your waist.
You can feel his breath in your hair, his arm hugging you closer to him. “A dream, and nothing more,” Loki whispers.
And then you wake.
OTE HAS BEGUN, I REPEAT, OTE HAS BEGUN!!! I’m so excited to get this ball rolling, you guys!
I’ll be posting updates to this story that can be read on AO3. :) See you guys there!
As you sat in the back of the car with Spencer to your left, JJ and Morgan in the front you adjust your vest making sure it’s set correctly. As Morgan zooms through back passages you look of Spence and give him a warm reassuring smile as the car spins into a parking position with a hairpin turn. You quickly jump out the car to see 3 local officer cars and the other SUV all facing the window of an abandoned cabin.
“He’s in there alright we’ve seen movement but we need to go in carefully and we need 4 of you to stay out here. Morgan, you and Prentiss take the back way and me and Rossi will take the front. JJ, Reid, Y/L/N and Blake you stay out here and work with the sheriff and his officers.” Hotch orders before lastly adjusting his vest and walking off his gun in his arms.
“You three stay here while I just go coordinate with the sheriff. Be careful.” Blake says smiling before walking in a different direction. The rest of the team seem to dissapear into the darkness of the night before you see something shift in the distance…
“Spence. JJ. Did you see that?” You say quietly before walking off slowly, quietly clicking off the safety of your gun. As you creep towards the darkness fright fills Spencer and JJ knowing you could be walking into the unsub’s trap.
“Y/N! Get back here!” Spencer yells in a hushed whisper. Just as you get close enough you see a pair of green eyes staring back at you before running off in another direction. Without even a second of a doubt you chase after the unsub without knowing for a second where you’re going. Chasing after the unsub was slowly working as you were catching up to him and thus meaning JJ and Spencer could catch up to you. As the unsub jumps over a fence you see a tree with a lower branch so you use your old gymnastic skills to manuver into the tree swinging from the lowest branch on the other side and thus catching the unsub. As you put the unsub on his knees, knowing he’s feeling the cool barrel of your gun to the back of his head, you remember a vital piece of information as you feel a cold metal on your neck, he wasn’t working alone.
“Put down the gun sweetheart. We wouldn’t want someone getting hurt now would we?” The voice made your skin crawl and so did his warm breath on the back of your neck. You look past the man kneeling in front of you to see Spencer a good distance away that the unsub behind you couldn’t see, so you shake your head. More to Spencer but of course the unsub behind you doesn’t know this.
“I can take you.” You project your voice so Spencer can hear you, as well you assume JJ can too wherever she is. The man behind you laughs and every fear you’ve ever had seems to come alive with the haunting laugh.
“Oh you think you can, do you sweetheart?”
“Yeah. I do.” You say as you kick your leg backwards also leaning forward shooting your gun into the leg of the unsub in front of you and catching the one behind you. That’s when one gun shot goes off that isn’t yours. Spencer quickly runs to arrest the first unsub and the second one stands back up tall and spits blood towards the floor, that’s when you roll around to face him and spot JJ behind him. He takes the safety off his gun and aims it at your head. You turn your head and copy his movement of spitting blood onto the floor.You see JJ raise her gun and you begin to laugh. A laugh that terrifies Spencer because you’re not even recognising you’ve been shot right now.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at sweetheart. I won. You’re about to bleed out.” The man almost cackles at the thought of killing an agent. You use your elbows to prop yourself up to speak.
“We always win.” As you finish speaking the man spins around, now ignoring you. He comes face to face with a severely pissed off JJ who immediately pulls the trigger. You let your arms fall and your head hit the floor. JJ then takes the first unsub and Spencer runs over to you cupping your face.
"Hey Spency… I’m okay.“
"Y/N no you’re not you’re go-” You immediately cut him off. “It’s okay if I die then I die in the arms of my first love,” Spencer eyes light up but sink knowing these might be your final words, you confessing your love, “The only person I’ve ever loved. The person I’ll always love… I love you Spencer."
As you finish your sentence you black out and Spencer realises if you die in this moment he never said it back. He never got a chance. He needed you to know he loved you too. All that could be heard was Spencer crying not knowing if he was about to lose you.
Summary: Reader is a talking vixen, having suffered from the same torture and experimentation as Rocket Raccoon, who just happens to be her rescuer. Of course, the other Guardians help, but she doesn’t pay much attention to them, her curiosity for her fellow animal becoming her priority. All the same, Rocket seems to be just as curious about her.
Key: (Y/N)-your name
Today’s Playlist: Nope. Zilch, nothin’, nada.
Cast: YOU (but animal-like version)! Rocket Raccoon, Peter Quill (Star-Lord), Gamora, Drax, and Groot
Warnings: Cursing (It’s Guardians of the Galaxy. I mean, what did you expect?), Fluff (Fluffy fic and literal fluff)
Status: Complete (If requested, I may do a part 2)
Note: This is a request from Connman3! (He doesn’t have a tumblr :/) I hope this lives up to what you were asking, as you didn’t really give specifications other than a Rocket Raccoon X Reader. Anyway, thanks for your request! I hope I did it justice!
You sigh. Just another day in a cell with only stale bread to eat and…is that supposed to be water? Whatever, at least it’s semi-drinkable.
You’ve been stuck in this cell, this space pirate ship, for a few weeks at the very least. Before that? No idea. You do remember a lab. Those cursed experiments, the ones that turned your siblings into savage beasts before they worked on you. You were the only one to make it out alive before the lab went to hell. Apparently, some suits found out about the lab and shut it down, which gave you the perfect opportunity to escape. Unfortunately, the space pirates weren’t far behind.
So, here you are. A weird ass human-like thing with soft fur and paws. You don’t like not knowing what you are, but hey, at least you’re not dead, right? No, that’s not true. Death would be far better than being stuck in this cell. At least in death, you aren’t forced to eat bread that feels like rocks every day.
You lean against the cold metal wall, bored. You look down at your little black paws, turning them around carefully to look at them. You close and open them, your mind wandering back to the lab. You sneak a glance at your fluffy, white-tipped tail, resisting a strange urge to claw at it. Weird.
As you’re looking down at yourself, someone shouts outside. That’s normal, considering how wild these space pirates are, so you don’t pay them any mind. That is, up until you hear an explosion that is way too close for comfort.
You stand on two paws, curious. You step toward the metal bars that keep you in your cell, though it’s more of a cage, and try to see down the hall. Just as you reach the front of your cell, one of the pirates goes flying right down the hall, past your face, and slams into a wall nearby. You jump back at the sudden movement, your fur rising in terror.
From down the hall comes a maniacal laugh. “Oh yeah.”
You lean against the bars as light footsteps sound. You’re suddenly hopeful that the voice might just be able to save you from this awful cage. “Hey!” You shout loudly down the hall, your voice a little raspy since you haven’t used it in….well, you can’t remember, actually.
“Huh?” Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the cage, causing you to leap backward in surprise. You examine the figure with extreme shock. He’s like you! “Who’s there?”
He has grey fur with a strange black mask on, which you quickly figure out is also fur. He has a fluffy tail and sharp claws on his paws. Weirdly enough, he stands on two legs just like you. Though, he actually has clothes on. Huh. He also carries a gun with him.
You creep forward out of the shadows on all fours before standing on two paws and leaning against the bars to get a better look at him. He seems astonished by you, as if he’s never seen anyone like him before. Then again, that could very well be true, especially considering you’ve never seen anyone else with fur before.
You hold on tight to the bars before reaching one paw out to grab his and look at it. Sure, the gesture is a little weird, but you can’t help your curiosity. His paws are different than yours, with long, finger-like appendages and sharp claws at the ends of them. They must make for a good grip. Glancing down at yours, you see that your paws aren’t made to grip onto things, but you can move much faster with the build they have.
He mutters something you can’t catch. You look back up at him, though he still has the same shocked expression. “Huh?”
“I thought I was alone.” He mumbles again, looking you up and down. Something tells you this is odd behavior for him, but you can never be sure. Out of nowhere, terrifyingly loud static and a shouting voice comes from his ear. You jump back, fur raised. “Shit, sorry. One sec.” He sighs, listening to the voice.
“Rocket! Where are you?! This place is gonna blow in 5!”
“Yeah, yeah, Quill. I’ll be there in a flash.” He rolls his eyes, throwing caution to the wind. He glances at you, hesitating. He then speaks into the comm again. “Hey, uh, I’ve got an extra passenger, too.”
With that, he stops talking into the comm and pulls some devices out of his pockets. They’re small, round discs with flashing red lights on them. You give him a cautious and questioning look, stepping back from the bars as he attaches them.
“What?! What do you mean an extra passenger?!”
He ignores the loud voices from the device in his ear and talks to you. “You’re gonna wanna step back, by the way.” You listen to him, pressing yourself against the wall behind you, which is the farthest away from the bars you can possibly get.
The devices beep furiously as he activates them and steps away. You take a deep breath, ready for some sort of explosion. Instead, the devices let out a high pitched noise and shine out a bright red laser that swipes across the bars, disintegrating them. As the devices fall to the ground, their job finished, you step toward the new opening into the hallway. He laughs a little in pure joy of the damage the devices have caused.
“Son of a bitch! Someone go find Rocket!”
Seeing your caution, he holds out his paw to you, tilting his head. The action motions down the hall, presumably the way out. “C’mon.” You take his paw as he smirks victoriously. “Hold on tight.”
He takes off down the hall in a sprint, practically dragging you behind him. You quickly find your speed, though, and manage to keep pace with him. You note to yourself that you could go faster than him if he weren’t leading the way. The two of you run through multiple halls, armories, tech rooms, and other rooms without purpose. He reassures you that you’re almost there when suddenly an ear-ringing explosion sounds from not too far off.
He smirks, pausing to glance back at you, “Ready to run like hell?”
You tilt your head and open your mouth to ask something, but another explosion sounds and the two of you dash off in the direction you were originally going. Your legs are starting to get tired, but his laugh at the thrill of the moment gives you a burst of energy.
Eventually, you find yourself in a hangar with multiple smaller ships. The majority of them are in pieces and fire rages over them, crackling loudly. There is one ship, however, that isn’t a pile of debris and this is the one that he chooses to run toward.
“Rocket!” The large door to the ship is open, where you can see a….does that woman have green skin?! Okay, there’s another guy with red and grey skin?! What the hell?!
The ship starts to take off, hovering multiple feet above the ground. You and, who you presume is named Rocket, run up to the ship. Rocket pauses for a few moments before grabbing hold of your waist. If you could blush, you would be red as a tomato. “I’ll toss you up!”
You nod swiftly and he throws you upward. You soar through the air toward the ship, landing on all fours majestically as the crew of the ship stares at you with suspicion, yet awe. You turn and lean over the edge of the open door as the ship gets farther from the ground. Rocket crouches before leaping toward you. Time slows as he gains distance, but just barely misses the edge. You fling out your paw with lightning reflexes, just barely grasping his paw. As time goes back to its regular speeds, you see Rocket look up at you, almost astonished that you would even consider saving him. You struggle with his weight but manage to pull him over the edge and into the ship, both of you rolling onto the ground as the door closes. You’re both out of breath and exhausted, unmoving as you try to catch said breath.
To your own surprise, and everyone else’s, you start laughing a little as you roll onto your backside, paws across your chest. At your chuckles, Rocket bursts into laughter, banging his paw against the floor of the ship. Soon, the both of you are laughing hysterically, the adrenaline and thrill of the dashing escape finally hitting you.
Soon, the laughing ends and you let out a satisfied sigh. Rocket gets to his feet, reaching out a paw to help you up. For a few moments, you just sort of stare at each other, intrigued and in awe. What are the chances that both of you would find each other in this certain spot at this certain time?
Suddenly, someone clears their throat. You turn to see the crew of the ship made up of a woman with green skin, a man with red and grey skin, a regular looking, light-haired guy, and…is that a tree? Whatever, you’ve seen weirder.
The regular looking guy, who seems to be the captain or at least the leader of this strange band of people, looks to Rocket for answers. “So, Rocket, who’s your friend?”
“No idea.” Rocket shrugs, glancing at you. “These are the weird ass people I save the galaxy with.”
The tree huffs, “I am Groot!”
You wave a little at him, to which he smiles, but then turns to Rocket with a frown. “I am Groot!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure you’re not weird.” Rocket rolls his eyes and looks to you. You giggle, shifting your feet. “That’s all he says, by the way. ‘I am Groot’.”
The others on the ship are still silent, up until the bulky, grey and red skinned man introduces himself. “I am Drax and this is Peter Quill.” He motions to the regular looking guy, “Most call him Star-Lord.”
To your right, Rocket sniggers, whispering. “Most meaning him.”
You hold back a laugh, but Rocket sees the amused sparkle in your eyes. Drax continues, motioning to the green-skinned woman. “She is Gamora. I would not talk to her. She is extremely terrifying.”
Gamora glares you down, attempting to intimidate you, but you don’t move a muscle. She doesn’t scare you. No one does. Except maybe yourself. Other than that, people don’t seem to terrify you at all, no matter how much bigger they are than you.
Finally, you speak up. “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure.”
“(Y/N).” You hear Rocket mumble. “Not bad.”
You look to him with a cocky expression. “You’re not so bad yourself, furball.” You strut toward Groot to look him up and down, leaving a gaping Rocket behind you.
Drax laughs loudly, “She called you furball! You must be so embarrassed!”
Rocket shrugs, to which Peter, or ‘Star-Lord’, looks shocked. At this moment, you know that Rocket is usually the cocky son of a bitch that you’re being right now. The realization that he’s acting differently because of you gives you butterflies. Well, this is looking to be the start of a beautiful thing, isn’t it?
I’m pro-gun, but mostly for selfish reasons. Some people (such as celebrities) are probably safer with defensive weapons nearby. But I acknowledge the reality that guns make people less safe in other situations. No two situations are alike. That’s partly why the issue can never be fully resolved. Both sides pretend they are arguing on principle, but neither side is. Both sides are arguing from their personal risk profiles, and those are simply different. Our risk profiles will never be the same across the entire population, so we will never agree on gun control.
That said, I want to call out the worst arguments I have seen on the issue of banning bump stocks. If you are new to the conversation, a bump stock is a $99 add-on to an AR rifle that turns it into an automatic-like weapon for greater kill power. The Vegas gunman used bump stocks. They are legal, whereas a fully automatic rifle is not.
requests: could you do a multi chapter fic where like the reader is like 14?? and like negan takes her from hilltop to raise her as his own but she doesnt like him so she runs away and she gets captured by like dwight and thats the part where glenn and michonne are also captured aswell and they get to the lineup and thats where negan notices her and ricks group are “ shookt ” and when carl tries to hunt down negan and fails he ends up meeting reader during the tour and they form a great friendship??
and about the “ negans daughter” thing can you make the reader really close w jesus and he gets really upset when negan takes her away?? thanks aha
pairings: father figure negan x reader, best friend/ guardian jesus x reader
a/n: i’ve written this about four times now so i hope my laptop doesn’t delete this one lol
“You like it?” Negan asked, placing his hands on your shoulders. He stood behind you, leaning his head to whisper in your ear. You ignored him, finding that silence was your best defense mechanism against him. You were a mix of disgusted with how the women he lived with pranced around like sex dolls and in awe of how beautiful the room was. You hadn’t seen furniture like that in person ever, even before walkers roamed the earth.
Negan took you from the Hilltop while he was on one of his weekly visits to take your supplies. One of his wives had been bugging him about wanting a kid, and you seemed to be perfect to him. “Take a seat, and I’ll bring out your new mother,” he ordered. You sat down on the nice couch, huffing at his mention of a ‘mother.’
Negan was full of shit if he actually thought you were ever going to call her that. The closest thing you had to a parent was Jesus, who took you in under his wing when your family died. He and you were both lone wolves before you met each other. He became your best friend and guardian.
A woman followed Negan towards you, where her facial expression resembled anything but happiness. Negan smiled at her hopefully, begging for a response. The woman looked at you with disgust. “This is (Y/N),” Negan said gesturing for you to stand up. You crossed your arms leaning back into your seat.
“She’s older than I thought she was going to be,” the woman complained. She acted as if you weren’t a few feet in front of her.
“Same here,” you replied wittily, glaring at the woman. Her eyes widened with rage, and she looked back at Negan like she was waiting for him to do something.
“I asked for a kid, not a bitchy teenager,” she blurted out, balling her hands into fists at her sides.
“(Y/N),” Negan sighed, “Why don’t you go ahead and wait outside.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically to assure that she noticed, and walked out the doors.
For the first time since you arrived at the sanctuary, you were alone. Negan always made sure either he, himself, or one of his Saviors was by your side at all times. You felt a rush of relief roll over you as you recognized your new freedom. You looked in each direction before quickly walking down the hall, trying your hardest to act like you had a purpose.
You found a large steel staircase that you recognized and flew down it without a second thought, gripping the handrail for stability. On the ground floor, there were way too many people to count. Some were eating, others were talking, and a group of about twenty men sat around a table, discussing something seemingly important.
You noticed a group of people leaving the Sanctuary, and began walking with them, trying your hardest to blend in. There didn’t seem to be a leader of the small crowd, and the conversations were only between two or three people, so you weren’t able to hear where they were going. You didn’t care, though. They were leaving, and that was all that was on your mind at the moment.
You were walking down a road that you recognized from when Negan drove you to the Sanctuary in his truck when a small group of walkers–maybe three or four–caught your attention. A woman with red hair reached into her belt, but you stopped her.
“Don’t worry about it,” you offered. “I got this. I’ll catch up with you guys.” She didn’t argue, and the group continued down the road. You pulled out your small knife from your belt and efficiently killed all the walkers, then ran a bit deeper into the forest to hide yourself. You ran as quickly as you could in the direction of the Hilltop.
Your run slowed down to a quiet walk as you heard voices ahead of you. You had no idea how long you had been running, but you were almost positive you weren’t close enough to be home already. Maybe Jesus sent a group out? Or maybe Negan’s group caught up to you? Amidst the trees, you could see two people. An Asian man with floppy, black hair stood across from a slim, dark skinned woman with long, thick hair that fell down her back.
“We just got stuck with each other,” he said. The woman looked at him sadly, and he looked away from her. “We were lucky.” He paused, shaking his head slightly and breathing in deeply. “We’d figure it all out together. I felt like we did… After everything, we did.” He shook his head again, staring at the fallen leaves on the ground. “The world’s not what we thought it is.”
You wondered what this man was talking about–who he was talking about.
“Hilltop, the Saviors… It’s bigger.” Your eyes widened, and you gasped a little. A whistle sounded from among the trees, and you ducked down, drawing your knife. The man positioned his gun in front of him, and the woman grabbed the handle of a long sword out of its sheath on her back.
Within your immediate line of sight, you could see five men, all with their weapons aimed at the two people. As far as you were aware, they didn’t notice you. You recognized one of the men by the scar on his face, which you assumed was from being burned. These men were Saviors, and they weren’t gathered here coincidentally. They had probably been following you since you left the group on the main road.
“Hi,” the man with the scarred face said monotonously, aiming his gun at the Asian man. He seemed to bite the inside of his lip as he readjusted his gun beneath his shoulder, lowering the weapon. They held their hands down at their sides in surrender, and they were easily taken to the ground by Negan’s men.
The man’s and woman’s hands were tied behind their backs, and their mouths were tied shut with gags. They were forced onto the ground as the Saviors began to start a fire. You hadn’t even noticed how dark it was getting until your eyes ached in the presence of light.
You hadn’t moved since you heard the first whistle. Your feet were planted still, for you were more scared than you had been in a while. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a man in a black leather vest with a crossbow and a woman with a cap and a large gun creeping up behind the Saviors. You wondered if these people were with the two hostages, or if they were more of Negan’s men.
Before you could stop yourself, you were creeping towards them. The woman noticed you first, aiming her gun at you. You shook your head frantically, holding your hands up. She nudged the man in the vest, nodding at you. You shook your head once again, trying to inaudibly tell them that you weren’t one of the Saviors. The man and woman creeped towards you, and away from the group.
“Where are you from?” he asked bluntly. The woman still had her gun aimed at you, but you couldn’t blame her. You could never be too certain that someone wasn’t out to get you.
“Hilltop,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to the three of you. “Negan took me, and I got out.” They looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. “Where are you from?”
“Alexandria,” the woman said. Your eyes lit up at the mention of the town they came from. Jesus always told you how amazing Alexandria was, and how he was going to take you there sometime.
“Oh!” you said excitedly. “Do you know Jesus?” They looked at each other once more. They seemed to be gaining trust in you.
“Yeah,” he said. “We know Jesus.” He dropped his weapon and stuck his hand out. “Daryl.”
You tossed your knife into your other hand and shook his. “(Y/N).”
“I’m Rosita,” the woman said, still aiming her gun at you. You smiled uncomfortably at her. “How old are you, kid?”
“Does anyone really know anymore?” you asked smartly. “I’m probably fourteen or fifteen. I was little when all this started.” Daryl and Rosita nodded. “You know them?” you asked, gesturing at the two hostages.
“Yeah,” Daryl replied. “Glenn and Michonne. You help us get them, and we’ll get you back to the Hilltop. Yeah?” You nodded in agreement. Even if these people were bad, you had nothing to lose. The three of you crept towards the glowing fire.
The man who was tied down, Glenn, noticed you three, and your eyes darted back to Daryl. He held up his finger to his lips, telling him to stay quiet. Glenn, though, began to groan, gaining the attention of the Saviors.
“Hi, Daryl,” a man said. You turned your head slowly to see the man with the scarred face holding a gun to the back of Daryl’s head. Rosita put one of her hands up, holding onto her gun with her other hand. You quickly tucked your knife into your belt before raising both your hands up slowly. There was a man behind each of you.
The sound of a gun firing echoed through the woods, and you dropped to your knees.
Short drabble I whipped up this morning! Hope everyone has a safe and fun Halloween!
Pairing - RickFord
Ford tensed, wrapping his jacket around him to battle the cold breeze. He dug his face into his scarf as a small gust of wind tickled his nose, cursing himself for agreeing to come out on this day of all days.
It was Halloween Night, his least favorite day of the year.
It wasn’t always such a let down. Come to think of it, he had fond memories of dressing up with is brother. Making old ladies cry at how much they looked alike, investigating the nearby haunted house, staying up late and eating candy until they vomited.
It just no longer held the appeal. He felt every Jack O’ Lantern was mocking him, and the shrill excitement from all the children in the air was suffocating.
He shifted on his spot on the bench, surveying the park for signs of life. He’d be damned if he was going to sit out here waiting much longer, and checked his watch anxiously.
There was a rustle in the bushes and he stopped, standing abruptly to once again check his surroundings. He unholstered his gun, slowly creeping to the bushes behind him and brandishing it cautiously.
“ Show yourself! I have a weapon, and I WILL use it…”
He choked, receiving nothing but silence in return. After a few seconds he blames it on his nerves and settles, lowering his weapon and sighing as he turns his back.
A shrill feminine shriek escaped his lips as he was grabbed from behind, dragged to the bushes with plenty of physical protest. The familiar masked face of Michael Myers came into view before him and Ford rolled his eyes, gently pushing away from his assailants grip.
“Ok, Rick…you got me. Can we leave now?”
Rick’s raspy voice roared with laughter, slipping the mask over his head in satisfaction. Soft hazel eyes shined in the darkness, looking his boyfriend up and down lustfully.
“Was I that fuckin’ obvious?” Rick chuckled, pulling Ford flush against him and peppering kisses down his neck.
Ford melted into his warm touch and surrendered, placing six fingered hands to his boyfriend’s chest for more stimulation. He muttered, blissfully aware of where this was going. “Happy Halloween, Rick…”
Sam slammed the door to the motel room after yanking you inside. You guys had been at the grocery store grabbing some food and Halloween supplies while Dean and Dad were on a hunt the next state over when Sam got a call from them that sent him into panic mode. He had dropped the basket full of food you guys had gotten, grabbed your arm, and bolted from the store. You kept asking him what was going on but he refused to tell you.
After locking the door Sam grabbed a chair from the motel table and shoved it under the handle.
“Sammy…What’s going on?” You asked in a shy voice from the motel bed you were sitting on. However Sam ignored you, he was too busy rummaging through the green bag you weren’t allowed to get into. Your eyes went wide when you saw Sam pull out a gun and a very shiny knife. “Sammy, why do you have that?” You quietly asked him.
“Y/N, there’s a lot I have to explain. It’d be better if Dad or Dean did but they’re not here.” Sam quickly told you.
Since Peter is going through puberty he voice will crack and break very often. Cue fight with some robbers and in the middle of quip he voice just BREAKS and the robbers side eye each other; "did you hear what I heard," and Peter just immediately tries to brush it off "oh dang allergies season," and it happens AGAIN-and now I want thousand of fics of Peter's age being revealed to the criminal underworld in embarrassing ways.
i can’t give you a thousand fics, but i can give you this one:
There was a nagging tug at the back of Peter’s mind that had nothing to do with his spider-sense and everything to do with the light coming from the windows of The Trustee’s National Bank. He knew the bank should be closed at this time of night; more than once he had rushed up to its doors after missing his train, hoping to cash his latest paycheck from the Bugle, only to see the “Closed” sign and a distinct lack of light.
But it was nearing midnight and the place was still lit up like a Christmas tree. Maybe someone was staying late. Maybe the bank was extending its hours. Maybe security had simply forgotten. There was a host of explanations that didn’t involve criminal shenanigans. But what harm could it do to check, right?
implied/mentioned non-con and self-harm, depression, prostitution, daddy!kink
Luhan gets lost in the deep underbelly of the city. He’s always had to do
things on his own, so he’s hoping that this time around, a good-looking saviour
like the ones in the movies he likes so much will come to save him.
warnings: kidnapping, torture, guns, profanity, sexual mentions
Mistah J was very interested in the woman who had left his club the previous night. He hardly slept because he kept getting turned on by just the thought of you.
He had his goons do some research on you. You’ve killed tons of men, men that seemed to have no connections to each other. Unless, that is, the connection was secret.
J had heard what you said at the club, he knew you were looking for somebody. And he also knew, you weren’t gonna stop for anything until you got them, which means you wouldn’t stop to be his toy.
After you left the club that night, you had gone back to your motel room, the one with the peeling wallpaper and mildew smell. You set your purse onto the quilt-covered bed and peeled your strappy heels off.
You ran your fingers through your hair and winced when your fingers got caught on multiple knots. You walked over to the closet next to the bathroom and pulled the door open. A web of photographs and sticky notes decorated the inside instead of clothes. You smirked to yourself and grabbed a single red pushpin out of the wall, and pushed it into Eric’s picture.
You looked in the closet with a sigh.“Almost there.” In the middle of the web, was a picture of a rough looking man with a tattoo of a raven on his face. And on that picture, a knife was imbedded.
J had followed you the next time you went out. You were on your way into town, you had gotten word that one of those stupid gang members had be hanging around there.
You knew someone was following you, and you didn’t like it. You made a sharp turn into an alley and his behind a dumpster. When the covered up stalker had rounded the corner, you slammed him into the wall.
You pulled the black hood off of his head and glared at who was under it. His twisted metal grin and green hair shone and his hands were held up in surrender. “Hiya, Doll.”
You released his jacket and backed up, glaring at the man. “Why are you following me?” You voice was rude and it made J twitch a little bit, not liking how daring you were.
“Why are you following those men?” His question rang in your ears and pretty soon his body was frozen in place. He was unable to move anything and that really scared him, not like he let it show though.
“Mistah J, I suggest you stay the fuck out of things that have nothing to do with you.” You turned your back to him and walked away.
After 5 minutes, J was able to move again, and he took off running after you.
He found you at a butcher shop, smiling flirtatiously with the butcher. You twirled your hair around your finger and smiled at the sweat covered man, trying to contain your disgust. You asked if you could see in the back, trying to hint at something else, and he nodded enthusiastically.
J walked into the butcher shop, with a glock sitting in his pocket. He pushed the door to the back open to find you had the butcher up against the wall, sharp icicles hanging above him.
You had noticed Mistah J when he walked in, and turned around pissed. “What the hell?” You growled out. You were getting sick and tired of this creep.
Out of the corner of his eye, J saw three large men with guns creep through the door. “Get down!” He yelled, whipping out his glock and shooting the men in three clean shots.
You looked behind you and saw the three men lying dead on the floor behind you. You couldn’t understand why this Mistah J character was so interested in you and your life. You scoffed at J’s grin at his sharp shooting.
You turned back to the man frozen against the wall and stood up walking towards him. “This is your last chance Larry, tell me where the fuck he is!”
The man cried and his warm tears froze against his skin, burning like fire. “He’s in Michigan! He’ll only be there for like a week! That’s all I know, I swear!”
You grinned at him and patted his cheek gently, “Thank you for your cooperation.” He smiled lightly, thinking he was going to live.
One of the icicles elongated at pierced his skull, killing him instantly.
You turned around to see Mistah J smiling at her. “The fuck you looking at?”
His smile dropped and he walked forward with a pointed finger. “Careful.” He smoothed his hair back and watched you pick up your belongings. “So who is this mystery man you’re aftah’ doll face?”
“None of your fucking business. And my name isn’t doll face, clown boy.”
He walked towards you quickly and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I saved your life back there doll, that means you owe me.”
You squinted at him before shoving his hand off of you. “Well what the hell do you want?”
“You.” He smiled, his fingertips touching together like he was negotiating something. At your confused look, he continued. “Your past. Your now. Your future. I want it. I want your story doll, that’s what I want.”
“Why-?” You were at a loss for words. You? Why the hell did he want you so badly? “What do you wanna know?” You sighed.
“Who’s the guy you’re after and why?” He spoke quickly, as if he had rehearsed it a hundred times. Perhaps he had.
You sighed, looking up at him, before gesturing to the door. “C'mon, lets go grab lunch.”
The two of you sat out side a café at a small metal table. “So, doll face, are you gonna tell me or are you gonna tell me?”
You rolled your eyes at his stupid attempt at a joke and sat back in your chair. “The man I’m after is named Arthur. Arthur Carry. When I was sixteen, men had invaded my home. Killed my parents and took me and my sister. I didn’t know why then, I just knew it fucking sucked.
“So I was there for years. They some how knew about my… abilities, and used them against me. They made me do their dirty work, and in return they kept my sister alive.
“Then on the seventeenth of may, I screwed up. I had missed my window to kill some prime minister, and they killed her for it. My little sister. They stuck her in an air-tight container and made me watch her suffocate.”
Mistah J’s fingers were tapping on the table as he watched you struggle to tell the story. He was angry. Angry that someone had the audacity to hurt what was his. They were going to pay. “What was her name?”
You looked at him and whispered, “Marie.”
He stood up and walked around the table so that he was in front of your chair. He squatted down so that he was face to face with you. You didn’t know what he was doing, but god damn you like it. “(Y/N), now listen, I don’t really make promises…” He paused for a second and his blue orbs trailed around your face. “But I can promise you that those bastards are gonna pay.”
“Why- why are you helping me?” You asked as he leaned forward so that his lips barely brushed yours.
“Because you’re my doll.” He growled. “And no one hurts my doll.”