The Urge To Count Rice Is Strong

the lost boys but it’s just david bullying star exactly how peter bullies meg in family guy

Omgg you write based on ur fic right? If so could u do the club boys x a reader in their club that does school cheer and allstar? Like going to her comps or games, seeing her uniform, and watching her become like a totally different person from her normally shy self?😭 I think it would be cute!! Love love loveee ur fic keep up the good work😽

THIS IS SO FIRE🔥🔥🔥🔥 YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS FOR THIS REQUEST!!!!

OH. MY. GOD????

Okay, you CANNOT be the same girl who joined their club cause what???

Now, they were wondering why you haven’t been coming to the club meets on Fridays hardly and on this particular day, they were gonna give you some shit for it. Bill specifically because he’s the “leader” so of course he’s gonna ask why you haven’t been showing up.

So, the four of them waited on your front porch for a good hour…they were VERY impatient but they wanted to catch you at the right moment to pester you about where you have been going, completely unaware that nearly every Friday their school had a football, basketball, or even a soccer game to host. This is what they get for not sticking around and not caring about what events are happening but it still doesn’t excuse you being missing!

After an hour of them sitting there on your porch, they saw car lights pulling up in your driveway and they perked up. They were going to confront you ONCE and for ALL—let’s hope you don’t possibly be kicked from the club due to your shutout attendance.

… “WHAT THE FUCK?” -Bill, who’s standing there with his mouth agape as he stared at you. The other three had the exact same expression as they watched you—who was also looking like a deer in headlights as you held your cheer bag tightly.

It was just some silent staring that the five of you were doing until your mom broke it with asking you if you told the boys that you got into Cheerleading now. You hadn’t told them.

Were they mad? Nah. Were they still upset about you not telling them? Yes. But did you look hot in that cheer uniform? Hell yeah. Sooooo what could they say?

They were confused. They didn’t understand why or how you found yourself involving in such a competitive and social sport like Cheerleading. It went out of your character gradually so it was a surprise for them.

They were cool with it—cause I mean you’re still their crush- I mean friend, right? The only thing that’s an issue is how are you supposed to tend club meetings now? Even worse, will you be able to hang out with them as much as you did before getting into Cheerleading? It was a wreck because they NEEDED to see you. They HAD to see you. It was like a drug for them that they never did wish to have a hangover from. Crazy comparison, but it’s the genuine truth, the whole truth!

“Why not just go see her games or competitions?” -Jerry.

Oh. Oh Jerry. You dumb FUCK. Why would they drop everything to go see the girl of their dreams, do some backflips and cartwheels alongside her clown ass teammates, look at sweaty jocks, and their school lose this seasons game? Are we deadass?

Yes. Yes we are deadass. Cause guess what? The next game, they sat on those bleachers and cheered you on like no other. Even if y’all’s school did lose, they cheered like batshit crazy. They received so many weird ass stares from people beside them while they stuffed theirselves full with snacks from the concessions. It was a whole THING with them.

Would yall believe me if I told you Jerry let out the girliest scream when he saw you do a backflip while one of your cheer buddies were holding you up. Luckily, you landed on the other girl’s hand, ultimately ending up okay in the end but that was scary!

Don’t invite them to your cheer comps. Dont do it.

Cause one time, your team didn’t win the competition—it was the hardest one yet and you all worked very hard on it. The judges were pretty biased and what not—it was very obvious that they were and it got under your skin. So that sensitivity inside of you boiled over as you cried because that’s so frustrating. Your teammates were trying to comfort you and all of this other stuff but it will NEVER beat how bad the boys acted.

They cussed the judges out and everything cause are we FOR REAL? How did you not AT LEAST get third place? The shit is rigged! It ended up in them getting escorted out while you followed after them. Did they get the spot you deserved? No. But was it sweetly chaotic about what they did? Yes.

They saw that you have came out of your bubble SO MUCH and it genuinely makes them proud because they never saw that side of you. It really showed that you changed—and not in a bad way either. The five of you still hang out a lot, they see you every Friday for games, they cheer you on. The list grows!

It makes them even more happy when you tell them that they were one of the main reasons why you started to open up.

They love you so fucking much, girl💔💔💔

Hi Hershey!!! Firstly, I just wanted to say that your ao3 ETC fic is amazing!!! It’s in my tabs and I refresh it every few hours or so lolol

I was wondering if you could write abt how the boys from etc would deal with a hopeless romantic! reader? Like, the reader watches a ton of rom-coms, reads romance books, and laments abt how they can’t find a bf (when the boys are literally right in front of them)

Take all the time you need to write this!! <3 I hope you have a good day!! :D

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!♥️♥️♥️♥️ Awww I love this request! Thank you so much for requesting!!!💋

Where do I even begin?

The boys would be frustrated to say the least because you’re over here watching countless of rom-coms, reading romantic books, and are constantly talking about how you don’t have a boyfriend. You also spout on about how every person your age has a boyfriend while you don’t!

The issue is how you act blind. Cause there are CLEARLY four boys who’d love to fill that void in your heart and you’re taking a blind eye to it. let’s be for real, when was the last time any of these gross teens got close to a relationship without it falling and burning? If anything, they’d love to become your boyfriend!

If you open your fucking eyes, that is.

Bill is the one who’s going to be frustrated and pissed off because he has a superior complex and an ego that is up where heaven is. He’s going to be so butt hurt over it that it genuinely makes him want to pull his hair out. He’s tried everything in the book that is out of character for him; he opened doors for you, held out chairs for you, gave somewhat little care to your feelings, and just trying to be a LITTLE bit better. However, none of those efforts are working well much to his disdain.

Josh, he gets upset when his attempts at “wooing” you don’t go as planned. He rambles on about his interests and you looked and acted very interested in them. He would show off his many collections or any doubles he has to you in hopes that it’ll get you closer to him and soon be wrapped around his finger! He wasn’t pissed off like how Bill is—but he still was hurt! You two share some of the same interests so he thought that you’d be happy to know that if you two ever became a thing, you’d have a boyfriend who enjoys the same things as you! That’s always good right?

Pete is a little cornball so he’d know some of the ropes on how to win a person over or two! He would compliment you daily, makes some jokes to make you laugh, try to take you places, and he even stole some of his parents money to buy you something you like. Pete loves seeing you smile all big when he does these things and it gives him a big ego boost! But it still makes him confused and pretty frustrated when he still doesn’t have you where he needs you! Your still going on about you not having a boyfriend after he literally took you out to eat at Mcdonald’s!

Jerry is the sanest out of all of them. He doesnt want to overwhelm you with gifts, be overly sweet, or talk to much about himself in fear that he might drive you away. Jerry is hesitant but he still interacts with you, making sure not to go overboard. He thinks you’re pretty/handsome, smart, and you seem to be the person he actual sees himself having a chance with considering the circumstances. He can get kinda angsty here and there because he’s worried that maybe he’s not the one that you want and that’s why you haven’t made any moves yet…

And god help us all if they find out that they ALL have a thing for you! They will go fertile and lash out at each other, trying to one up the other, constantly arguing about who’s going to hang out with you, etc. You on the other hand are so oblivious to the chaotic mess as you let out a long dramatic sigh, saying how you’ll never find yourself with a boyfriend who loves you…💔

Bill thought about getting you glasses so that you can see that the love of your life is him and not the others

A MASSIVE THE LOST BOYS MEME POST

Paul during Michael's little blood-drunk escapades

Michael, having no survival skills

Star, watching Michael get distracted by all of the hot vampires

Lucy, having shit taste in men (we love her tho she's just a girl)

Max, creeping up on the unsuspecting single mothers of Santa Carla

The Widow Johnson sensing other vamps on her turf

Paul attempting to be a badass with his 🤙 and 👌

Michael and David fighting very Heteronormitavely

Max watching security footage of the boys trying to steal The Princess Bride from his store

Nanook, searching for vampires to fucking destroy

☆彡He’s a D*ck, So She’s Tess?

Bill Dickey x Reader

Summary: A new girl transfers to Eltingville high and Bill writes her off as another bimbo who’ll hardly look at him. Until he spots her Dick Tracy comics. He’s in over his head after that.

TW: literally all kinds of misogyny. This is Bill Dickey we’re talking about. I might’ve made him a little nicer than usual, but that's just because I think if he was ever with a girl he had a real chance with he’d be too shocked to actually be an asshole. At first at least.

“Captain, are you alright?” buzzed a serene voice from Bill’s radio.

He set his phaser rifle down and sends a transmission over, “I’m alright, sweetheart. I’ve always got things under control.”

He puts a hand above his eyes as he surveys the area. He had just landed on an unknown planet with his crew of bombshell broads. The power cell on his phaser rifle was fully charged and he still had some kiss marks from the crew.

He was ready to conquer any potential threats.

The ground beneath him was hot and sand-like, but firm enough to act like gravel. There wasn’t much he knew about this strange planet. The sun was much stronger out here, and it was evident on the ridiculous amount of sweat that had begun accumulating on him. These damn Starfleet uniforms weren’t made for this kind of weather. Fighting against the glare of the sun, he squinted for some sort of sign of life.

He had been wandering for quite a while, and yet he hadn’t seen a single moving thing beyond the particles of sand he kicked as he walked. Sick of the overbearing weather, he sighs and gets ready to head back.

Until he spots it. Not too far in the distance is a figure. Immediately back on alert, he lifts his rifle and stomps toward it. The form gets clearer, but the shine of the sun prohibits him from seeing much.

It was a girl, that much he could make out. Oh.

It’s a girl.

A smirk immediately plasters itself on his face as he holsters his rifle and confidently walks forward. He would never miss an opportunity to add another fine woman to his ship.

When he feels close enough he puts his hands on his hips, “Need any help, princess?”.

The figure stays quiet. He puts a hand above his eyes in an attempt to shield the sun. He still can’t fully see her and it’s really starting to get on his nerves. Part of her ankle comes into view, which is enough to satiate his impatience, for now.

He could tell that she was wearing a loose dress. What kind, specifically? How was he to know? He didn’t care for that girly bullshit. It was short enough for him to see her beautiful legs. While his eyes hungrily raked over them, he noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes either.

“What the hell?” he muttered, furrowing his brows. He motioned toward her feet with his hand, “how aren’t you fucking melting out here?”.

As if at the mention of it, he suddenly realized just how hot he had gotten. His sweat was leaving pools in his uniform and he felt much, much weaker. His vision wavered as he tried to keep his balance. He looked back up at her but the figure was gone. Before he could search for her, the alarm on his ship started to blare. His head shot up and turned to see the emergency lights shining. He reached for his radio but it was gone.

It was then that he realized just how close the sun had gotten. Way too close. And way too fast. And somehow it was getting even closer. Fuck. He abandoned any visions he had for the girl. She was probably ugly anyways. He had more than enough women to keep him company onboard. He realized if he wanted to keep his crew and his life, he needed to head back immediately.

He dropped his rifle and ran for his life. The sun was moving impossibly closer and his skin felt like it was burning up. As he neared the ship, his heart dropped at the sound of the engine starting. It was going to lift off without him!

Had even his beautiful crew decided to abandon him?

His despair was interrupted at the sight of the figure from earlier. The girl was alive. And on his ship.

She stood on the edge, holding her hand out. Bill could hardly breathe as the sun overtook half the sky and his skin ached. Yet, he kept running. He would be damned if he let his ship of beauties leave him to die like this.

As he neared the ship, he heard the girl scream at him to jump and it gave him one last kick of energy. As the ship lifted, it kicked up a flurry of sand that blinded him. Moving blindly, he jumped forward as she caught his hand. She held onto him as the spaceship lifted and he dangled by one hand. He looked down as the planet below him burst into a grand ball of flames. The flames seemed to get closer and closer and closer till—

He woke with a start.

Panting and sweaty, his eyes were wide open. He immediately groaned and threw his hand across his face. The sun was beating down on his face through his curtains, and he felt like he was back in his dream. Another stupid dream about imaginary women, and this time he doesn’t even get to see the damn broad. He can even still hear the stupid alarm. Wait. Alarm? Christ, it’s his alarm. He furiously rubs his eyes and sighs. If he’s tardy again, that’s his 4th absence of the month. He’ll get another call from the attendance office and his bitch mom will ground him right on time for the Star Trek marathon on Friday.

He quickly rose, staggering toward his drawer. No brushing or washing today, not like he cared for it usually. He shoved the first shit he could find on and walked to the bathroom. His clock glowing an angry red as he walked past. 7:30. Fuck, not even enough time for a morning sesh. He shoved his porn mag to the side and walked right up to the sink. Splashing cold water on his face, he ran his hand through his hair. Eh, good enough. He slipped his bag on and hurried out the door. What a shitty start to the day.

—----------------------------------

There was one thing he would never get over. He was on his 4th year of high school and there was one question he could never answer. Why was everyone so fucking loud in the morning?

A pack of stupid broads in the corner, laughing and huddled together, throwing glares at the rest of the class. The nerdy, but boring freaks at the front. The sounds of zippers and books slamming as they prepped for class unusually early. Try-hards. Deep laughs hit like nails on a chalkboard in front of him as he watched the meathead jocks shadow box each other and leave a whiff of axe body spray as they moved. At the very front sat his old hag of a teacher who was probably too close to a retirement home to hear a damn thing anymore.

He sighed, trying to look away. Sat in his usual seat, it felt like he never woke up as the bright sun hit him right in the eyes as he turned. He dropped his head into the safety of his arms. Between the usual chatter and the blinding light, he felt like his head would explode. So caught up in feeling like shit, he hardly noticed the new silence.

Shifting in his now unusually loud seat, he finally caught up to reality. Slowly lifting his head, his eyes followed the still class to the front of the room.

There was a girl.

With the glare of the sun, he could hardly see more than her outline. He shoved his hand up like a shield, and finally, he saw her clearly.

Had he died and gone to Valhalla?

Surely, he died in his valiant dedication to fandom and was finally being rewarded for his efforts. With a heavenly glow surrounding her, there stood the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His eyes raked her top to bottom, from her shining eyes to her shifting feet. Christ, she was a wet dream reincarnated.

As his jaw hung slightly open and his eyes stayed glued to her form, he finally noticed his teacher motion her forwards. There was movement from the girl’s beautiful lips. Only it was too late. He had no idea what she said and she was walking right toward him. He forced his jaw to close and stood up in his seat slightly. Don’t wanna look like a pussy. He gulped as she got clearer and prettier. There was an empty seat next to him and he was certain she was gonna take it.

Visions overtook him of suavely talking her over as she laid her head on her hand, looking at him with the most desperate fuck-me eyes.

He’d hand her a pencil, maybe an eraser too. She’d flutter her lashes at him and laugh at his jokes. She’d put her hand on his shoulder as she laughed and she’d follow him as class ended right to the band room. He didn’t even take band, but he heard from Josh that kids got up to some freaky shit in the closets over there. He’d undress her slowly and– Nope, can’t think that far right now. Think of something else.

As his hopes soared, they were smashed into the fucking ground with the force of Mjölnir as she turned left. Oh, Fuck off. The stupid popular bitches were waving right at her, motioning her towards them. Just like that, he knew it was over. He felt like the world's biggest moron. Every bitch is the same, he knew it. He dropped his head in his hands again. It was going to be a long morning.

The bell brutally tore him from his nap and he immediately scrambled to get out. He speed walked toward the bathrooms, aching to get his one moment of peace going over Pete’s "Sci-fi’s Hottest Whores" scrapbook he made with magazines he stole from the supermarket. Obviously, hanging out by the bathrooms that had an air of shit from the broken plumbing wasn’t his favorite, but it was the club’s only safehaven from bullies. He felt his tense shoulders relax as the club came into sight. As he nodded towards the boys and set his bag down, Jerry asked him how he was doing.

Bill groaned and his eyes narrowed. Jerry immediately regretted asking, but Bill already began his (first) rant of the day as he opened his leaky lunch bag. The club all brought their own lunches to school. They knew better than to go to the lunchline, where they’d get robbed before they even got a glimpse of the food.

Bill ate and spoke at the same time, dropping crumbs everywhere. As he got to the part where he saw the new girl, he set his sandwich down and paused his messy bites. “I’m telling you, she was the most beautiful bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on. I almost bent her over my desk and took her right there,” he grumbled as Pete raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill sighed and looked down, “For a second, she looked just like the girl in my dreams. I really thought I had a good premonition going on there.”

Josh was scarfing down his mom’s meatloaf, not entirely interested in the conversation. “So?” he muttered through his mouth full of food.

Bill slammed his hand down as he continued, “She was walking right to me! Till the stupid cheer whores motioned her over. And of course, she took the bait. Just like that, the love of my life is gone.”

Pete rubbed his hands along his knees, ”She might not be yours, but if she’s that hot she might be mine. Send her my way, ya’?” he smirked.

Bill sent him a deep glare, “Over my dead body. She won’t want your shrimp dick, freak.”

Josh laughed, again with his mouth full, “Like she’d want yours. She’d need to be Bionic-1 to see a thing on you.”

Jerry sighed, “She won’t want any of ours if she joins cheer. She’s gonna get passed around the jocks like a football.” He fumbled through his magic cards, trying to sort his sliver deck. He was half listening to the conversation, too distracted by the task in front of him.

Bill kicked the cards right out of his hands, “Don’t say some shit like that around me. You got a cuck fetish or something?” he sneered.

Jerry scrambled to pick up his cards, now definitely too distracted to listen to the conversation. Bill hardly had an appetite after that, realizing how right Jerry might be. He shoved his sandwich down his bag and wiped his hands on his pants. He took Pete’s scrapbook from Josh’s hands, “Gimme that. Like you can see it over your fat fupa,” he grumbled. Josh protested for it back but it fell on deaf ears.

______________________________

He hadn’t thought about her again for the rest of the school day. Once he was free from hell, anything school related trickled right out of his mind. He was walking out the main gate with the club, arguing about the X-Men Age of Apocalypse comic that made a totally bullshit turn in his opinion. His day had seemed to finally even out.

With a gentle breeze flowing through the trees and his jacket tied around his waist, he felt much lighter in the moment. The clumsy steps of the group against the pavement was all he could hear as he passionately continued his rant. He had just finished slapping Jerry across the head and cackling with Pete when a movement in front of him caught his eye.

He almost bit down on his tongue as he realized who it was. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and didn’t even notice the pause in his steps till the rest of the group were a few feet ahead of him.

It was her. She was walking in the opposite direction as the group, straight toward them. He stood in the middle of the path and anyone with an ounce of awareness in the moment would notice that he was in her way. Luckily, he was the dumbest motherfucker in the world at the moment. He failed to move out of the collision course and her gaze was too busy with her bag as she fumbled to get something out.

She rammed right into him and they fell with a thud.

He took note of her heavenly scent before anything else. It was almost good enough to distract him from how much of a fool he had just made out of himself. He didn’t have much time to ponder over it though, as he sat up on his knees and noticed her bag’s contents littered along the ground. His eyes lazily raked over the pile in his daze.

Until he spotted it.

If he was dazed before, he felt on the verge of a stroke now. His blood rushed to his head and his heart thundered like it would burst out of his chest. He started breathing manually as he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. His hands fumbled at his sides in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Comics. Not just any comics. Not the stupid, girly romance kind. Dick Tracy comics. It didn’t take a detective to realize what that meant. As if his body was moving on its own, his hands shakily picked up the comics and he turned toward her.

The angel rubbed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a small smile on her shiny lips. Her eyes were soft and glittered as she looked at him. At least he thought so.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking at all,” she said sheepishly.

Her voice felt like warm honey and the light seeping through the trees enveloped her in a beautiful glowing frame. Her head tilted and he felt as if he could see the gears turn in her mind. “We have a class together, right? I remember you,” she said with a smile.

At his newfound discovery that he had just gone mute, she continued. “I remember you because of your Magik shirt, I think you’ve got good taste.” His mind short circuited as he looked down. He had no memory of even picking it out this morning and it was slightly stained… wait, how did she know who Magik was?

He felt like he was going to pass out and struggled to find his voice. It cracked as he choked the question out, “Are these yours?” he questioned as he held out the comics. Her eyes widened and she quickly reached out for them.

“Oh fuck, yeah, those are mine. Hope I didn’t scratch them up, they were in mint condition when I got them,” she said as she squinted and flipped them around to inspect them.

And he was a goner.

He smiled at her. A real, albeit shy, smile. Maybe he had never woken from his dream after all.

Still in amazement, his thoughts stumbled out of his upturned lips, “You’re heavy.” She tilted her head at him with a blank expression. Oh. Wait, fuck. “I. I meant your bag. It looks heavy. Ya need help?” he stammered as his face burned.

She smiled softly and nodded “Yeah, thanks.” She dusted her knees as she rose, “so, you like Dick Tracy too?” she asked.

He nodded, suddenly growing uncharacteristically shy. Fuck. How the hell do you talk to girls? He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he rushed to pick up the rest of her things. It was the only thing he could think to do as his mind scrambled to think of a pick-up line. Should he tell her he had a 10 pack of condoms ready if she could handle it? He wiped the thought from his mind, he didn’t even know where to get condoms or how they worked. Although, obviously she liked him if she was keeping up a conversation with him for this long. Maybe it was worth looking into. He hurriedly stuffed her things back in her bag before putting it on. Was he seriously gonna carry a girl’s bag for her? He looked up, ready to protest.

His words died on his tongue when she held her hand out and smiled at him. Christ, l need to see her in some erotic cosplay. As his shaky hand touched hers, he felt like he was born again. Her soft skin made his heart throb and he felt like he just came down with a fever. I’m touching a real life girl. His knees felt weak as he attempted to rise. Any issue he had with carrying her bag was gone.

He’d kick a kid into oncoming traffic if she asked, as long as she’d keep touching him like that.

____________________________

Unbeknownst to Bill, his friends stood frozen in place a few feet away. The club was too shocked to do anything but watch. A cold, eerie feeling washed over them all. A girl being nice to Bill. And Bill being nice to a girl. They’ve got to be in hell. The world has to be ending. Someone’s gotta call the fucking police.

“What the fuck,” muttered Pete.

Jerry stood slack jawed and Josh hadn’t even noticed he dropped his brand new Superboy comic.

A cold breeze carried their silence. Yet, Bill had never felt warmer.

I've been thinking abt a poly!tf141 with a fem!reader who like is from the country side AND I'M CRACKING, OH LAWD!!!

Task Force 141 had seen you kill a man from 700 meters away. They had seen you tear through enemy lines with the precision of a seasoned warrior, your movements deadly and efficient. But what they hadn't seen—what they couldn’t wrap their heads around—was the life you returned to after every mission.

Because while Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz spent their leave in safe houses, military bases, or the occasional urban apartment, you?

You went home.

To the countryside.

To your massive, luxurious farmhouse nestled in the hills of a quiet village, where the air smelled of fresh hay, wildflowers, and the occasional whiff of cow.

And when TF141 finally visited, they were not prepared.

The First Time They Saw the Farm : "What the fuck—" Ghost had been the first to say it when you pulled up to your estate in an old pickup truck, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as you parked in front of a sprawling wooden house with a red-tiled roof.

There were animals everywhere.

A massive black and white cow lazily chewed its cud near the wooden fence. Chickens and roosters strutted about like they owned the place. A gray donkey stared at them with judgmental eyes. Two ducks waddled past as if they were on a mission. Dogs barked excitedly at the sight of you, tails wagging. A cat lounged on the porch, stretching in the warm sun.

And then—a fucking horse trotted up to you, nuzzling into your palm like a puppy.

"Price," Gaz whispered. "She has a fucking farm."

"A fancy one at that," Soap muttered, still stunned.

"You lot gonna stand there all day?" You grinned, tossing your duffel bag over your shoulder. "Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready."

They were bewildered. They had spent years with you, fighting side by side, seeing you covered in blood, sweat, and gunpowder—and now you were leading them up the front porch of your cozy countryside mansion like a perfect little housewife.

And the worst part? They liked it.

You, The Deadly Soldier and The Perfect Housewife

Soap had expected you to relax on your leave. Maybe sleep in, drink some tea, read a book.

But no.

You were up at the crack of dawn, slipping out of bed before any of them could pull you back in, dressed in overalls and a white tank top, heading out to feed the animals like it was just another mission.

"Morning, sweetheart," Price murmured, leaning against the doorway as he watched you toss hay to the horses.

"Morning, Captain," you teased, kissing his scruffy cheek before moving on to collect eggs from the hens.

Ghost watched in silence, arms crossed, as you scolded a particularly feisty rooster. "You peck me one more time, and I swear to God, I’m making soup outta you."

Gaz almost choked on his coffee when you turned around and gave them the sweetest, most innocent smile.

"You boys want breakfast?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at a massive wooden table in your warm, sunlit kitchen, eating fresh farm eggs, homemade bread, and smoked bacon.

And Soap was ready to propose.

Domesticity With a Side of Chaos

Price: Loves sitting on the porch with a cigar, watching you work. He helps with repairs, fixes fences, and absolutely adores the peacefulness of your home.

Ghost: The animals are terrified of him at first (except the donkey—the donkey hates him). But the barn cats adopt him, curling up in his lap whenever he sits down.

Soap: Thinks farm life is the best thing ever. He learns how to milk a cow, names every single chicken, and gets way too attached to a piglet.

Gaz: "Babe, I love you, but this rooster is evil." (He got chased one too many times.)

And at night?

After a long day of farm work, you slip into something soft and lacy, curl up in their arms, and remind them that you’re not just a soldier, not just a farmer—you’re theirs.

They Never Want to Leave

By the end of their stay, not a single one of them wants to go back.

"You sure we have to leave?" Soap pouts, feeding the ducks.

"Darlin’," Price murmurs against your neck one night, arms wrapped around you in bed, "Ever thought about retirin’ here? With us?"

Ghost doesn’t say it out loud, but when he watches you laugh, your hands covered in flour as you bake bread, he knows he never wants to be anywhere else.

And Gaz?

He just sighs, watching the sunset over the hills. "I never thought I’d say this, but…I think I’m in love with farm life."

They were all in love. With you. With this. With the life they could have, if only they stayed.

Maybe one day.

For now, they’d enjoy every stolen moment in their countsyde paradise. But what if we make thing spicy ? A little bit, at least.

Ghost Was The First To Break

Ghost had held strong. Longer than the others.

While Soap got weak-kneed watching you bend over to pick up hay, and while Gaz couldn’t stop staring at your thighs in those tiny denim shorts, Ghost had kept his cool.

Until that damn sundress.

White. Light. Flowy. Just enough fabric to tempt, but never satisfy—clinging to your curves, slipping off your shoulders as you carried a bucket of water to the horses.

He had been cleaning his rifle on the porch, but his grip tightened the moment he saw the fabric sway with your every step.

And then?

You had the audacity to look over your shoulder and wink at him.

He dropped the rifle.

Soap Lost It In The Barn

Soap had always been shameless about his attraction to you.

But you?

You were even worse.

It was an accident—(was it?)—when you walked into the barn one night, looking for something. The others were inside, drinking whiskey in the house, but Soap had been alone, brushing down one of your horses.

And then he saw you.

Wet.

Covered in rain.

Your thin white blouse clung to you, completely see-through, nipples pebbled against the fabric.

"Lass," he had rasped, watching as you closed the barn door behind you, stepping forward, voice all honeyed and sweet.

"Johnny," you had purred, voice dripping with something that wasn’t innocence, "I’m cold."

He snapped.

The horse had seen things that night.

Price Was The Most Dangerous

Price was a man of control.

A man of restraint.

A man who knew how to bide his time.

But you?

You tested him.

You liked to push. You liked to see how far you could go before he gave in.

And God help you—you found his limit.

It was late. The others were asleep. You were making tea in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes to reach a mug from the top shelf.

Price had walked in just as your nightgown slipped up your thighs.

It wasn’t fair.

The soft, white cotton. The little lace trim. The way your bare legs looked so smooth, so inviting—and the sleepy way you turned, so unaware of what you were doing to him.

You looked up at him, mug in hand, and smiled. "You want some tea, Cap?"

And then—his hands were on your hips.

Voice rough.

"You know damn well what I want, sweetheart."

Gaz Had It The Worst

Gaz?

Gaz was a goner the first time he saw you in nothing but boots and his shirt.

You had come in from the field soaked in sweat, hair messy, thighs speckled with dirt. You had tossed your muddy clothes into the laundry room, grabbed his green tactical shirt, and walked around the house like it wasn’t driving him insane.

"Babe," he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, watching you stretch, the hem of his shirt riding up to dangerous levels.

You blinked. All innocent. "What’s wrong?"

Gaz was a patient man. A respectful man. A man who was about to lose his goddamn mind.

"Come here."

You smirked, walking over slowly, pressing your hands to his chest.

"You’re so easy to rile up," you giggled.

His hand wrapped around your throat.

"And you’re about to learn what happens when you push too far."

Hey. Could you please do a Winchester!sister reader fic like the mystery spot episode where Dean dies over and over but can you have the reader be the one who dies over and over again while the boys watch

Groundhog Day

Note: Once again apologising for my lateness but here we are! I actually also wrote this yesterday but I thought it was only fitting to release this on a Tuesday.

warnings: death *and lots of it, It's mystery spot*, grief kinda, time loops, swearing.

Word count: 3.5k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother who was surprisingly already up and raring to go, having made his bed which he was now perching on as he laced together his boots. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.”

“Dude.” Sam blinked, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Asia?”

“Come on. You love this song and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and if i hear it again, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

Dean took a break from trying his shoes to reach over and turn the dial on the radio. The song blasted louder from the speakers. He raised his voice with a grin “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Sam let out a light chuckle, still bleary with sleep as you sighed and sat up. Dean was still grinning at you before he began to mouth along to the words of the song. You shook your head at him before hauling yourself up and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

~

Dean had decided that he was going to be annoying today. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go on the hunt and he was trying to delay it or something or if it was simply because he was being Dean. You decided on the latter because his keenness to be up and ready this morning was unusual. It started with the gurgling when he was brushing his teeth. Then, just as the three of you were about to leave, despite being up before either of you he had forgotten his pistol leaving you and your other brother standing impatiently by the door while he rooted around the motel room for it. He was irritating in the car too and you were itching to jump out of the Impala, praying for the day to end. 

The diner was hardly busy when Dean pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars belonging to passers by occupying the spaces. After securing your pistol in the pocket of your jacket the three of you headed inside. You decided to stick close to Sam; you had an odd feeling about this hunt and weren’t entirely sure what it was but something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Your brothers entered one of the booths and you slid down beside Dean who let out a content sigh as he scanned the menu. 

“Hey, tuesday. Pig in a poke.” he read, gesturing to the sign.

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

The eldest brother opened his mouth to answer only to fall short of his words. Sam gave him a smug look and then pair fell into some sort of childish bickering that you weren’t really paying attention to. You were too busy scanning every inch of the room still unable to shake that uneasy feeling from your mind. Something just wasn’t right. Everything seems so…perfect. It made your skin crawl and you bit your lip.

“Hey.” Sam nudged you under the table with his knee, he had noted the way that you had gone silent and that you were fiddling with your hands restlessly. He knew almost straight away that something was up. You twisted to face him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. yeah.” You muttered. “Sorry.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when the waitress came over and distracted your brother's attention away from you. You hated the way that they stared when they were concerned about you. The three of you rattled off your orders before Dean leaned back in the chair, stretching his arm back behind you to lounge about as you all discussed the plan, only interrupted once by the waitress bringing your food and accidentally spilling a bottle of hot sauce which tumbled to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

The rest of the day passed by quickly after that.

~

You did not like the look of the so-called ‘mystery spot’. It was all overly commercialised, filled to the brim with strange and amusing objects that stuck out at odd angles or were glued to the ceiling. The darkness of the room mixed with the obscurity of the place made it come across as quite disorientating. You supposed that was the point. Your strange feeling from this morning was still lingering. You and Dean moved around with flashlights as Sam waved around the EMF. But it was silent. 

“Find anything?” You asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean said rather loudly. He was still set on the idea that this hunt was a complete waste of time and had decided to make it everyone else's problem. 

“Uh… yeah.” Sam shrugged until you gave him a look and he dropped his shoulders. “No.”

It wasn’t long after you set off to explore again that Dean’s gun was being cocked. Somehow someone had managed to catch you off guard, causing the three of you to whip around alarmed when his shaky voice boomed through the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demanded. The man was small and scrawny and would normally be no match against Winchesters, but he was wielding a gun that he didn’t seem to know how to use and his unstable finger was hovering dangerously close to the trigger. 

“Woah. We can explain.” Dean started, raising his gun in surrender and gesturing for the two of you to follow suit. 

The man moved his weapon uncertainly. “You robbing me?”

“No.” You told him. “Nobody’s robbing you, calm down.”

Dean began to lower his gun, but this only wound the man up more.

“Don’t move!” He demanded. “Don’t!”

“I’m just putting the gun down.” Dean tried to reassure him, but the man was having none of it. 

He raised his gun, but before he fired he spotted you moving out of the corner of his eye. 

Sam, as worrying of a brother as ever, gestured with a tilt of his head for you to move toward him. He knew that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but it made him feel ten times better to know that you were hidden behind his lumbering frame, especially given the recent circumstances that had resulted in so much loss between the three of you. Your movement however, combined with Dean’s haste to put down his gun startled the man and with a fast flick of his arm he had pulled the trigger. 

No one had any time to think before your pained scream filled the room. It was quick and short as the bullet lodged itself within your chest and you collapsed to the ground, writhing with an agony so intense that it made white spots dance in your vision like little stars. 

“Y/N!” Sam cried out, moving quickly to bridge the short distance to your side where you lay in pain on the cold ground. Sam slid an arm around your back as your other brother dropped to his knees next to you, hovering his hand over your chest where blood had already begun to pool through and seep into your shirt. He was frozen with terror unsure what to do at the sight of your pained expression or the way that your hands clutched feebly at the hem of Sammy’s jacket. 

“Call 911.” Sam demanded, turning to face the man who stood there white as a sheet. 

“I-I didn’t mean-” 

“Now!” Dean yelled.

You whimpered at the yelling. It cuts through your already pounding head adding to the concoction of your agony. You couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t feel anything besides the burning fire in your chest that spread through your lungs like a disease. Your head lolled back against Sam’s arm as you began to taste metallic copper in your mouth, slowly drowning on your own blood that had filled your lungs. 

“No. No” Sam said as you writhed in his arms, glancing up bleary eyed at him. Dean pressed down firmly on the wound, and it hurt more than anything but you couldn’t bring yourself to even whine at the contact.

“Come on sweetheart.” Dean pleaded. “Not like this.”

You could see his lips moving but it sounded like he was underwater as your body began to grow numb and your vision slowly faded. You tried to blink away the spots that consumed your vision, but it was no use and your eyes ended up fluttering shut just as your ragged breaths slowed before stopping altogether until you lay morbid limp in your big brother's arms.

~

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother. He had been here before. He realised suddenly, but this time his older brother was not lacing his boots. Instead he was stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the space beside Sam. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep. Sam stared at you, startled. He could have sworn that just a moment ago you were-

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean said, with much less enthusiasm as he had before. His little brother furrowed his brows.

“Dean…?”

“I know. Is it just me or are you getting a serious sense of deja-vu?”

He nodded in agreement. 

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

The Winchesters shared a look. Man, something strange was happening and whatever it was, you clearly weren’t feeling the same thing they were. 

~

The diner was exactly the same as it had been the last time the two brothers were here. You were still looking around with the same uncertainty as you were before and you even ordered the same thing as you did before and so did Dean. Tuesday’s special. Pig in a poke.

“It’s tuesday?” He said uncertainly to himself.

You stared at him blankly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah.”

Sam eyed you strangely and you raised a brow.

“You okay?” 

“Peachy.” He replied, leaning across the table. “Are you?”

Narrowing your eyes at the pair of boys you asked. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember any of this?” Sam asked you 

“Remember what?”

“This. Today. Like it’s happened before.” Dean.

“You mean like Deja Vu?” You frowned.

“No like it’s really happened before.” Sam stressed. “If it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Deja Vu.”

“No. Forget about that. Its-

The conversation was once again cut off by the waitress who was delivering the food. And once again she sent the hot sauce toppling. But this time, Sam caught it before it could hit the ground. 

You gave him a charismatic grin. “Nice reflexes.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that.

Your brothers were trying to explain the situation to you, while theorising themselves. It was safe to say that at first you were completely lost, but were halfway to believing them when it happened.  

The car came from nowhere, speeding around the corner. It collided harshly with your unsuspecting body sending you skidding across the asphalt. By the time your brothers had reached you, a trail of blood trickled down your face from the wounds that were opened as your skin ran across the floor. Dean nearly choked on the sight of your pained and bloodied face as he reached you but you were dead before he had even lifted you into his arms. 

And then, there it was again. That wretched song, screaming from the radio. 

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room and muttered one single phrase.

“Son of a bitch.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that. In fact, it never seemed to end. 

~

Sam was getting angry now. No. That's not really the right word to describe it. He was frustrated. Tired. Scared. Dean was angry. And growing impatient. But both of them could not bear to live another tuesday. They couldn’t bear to see you fine one second and then dying the next. They had lived through at least a hundred tuesdays, had scanned every inch of the diner, the town, the mystery spot, they had followed the people from the diner and had even tried to keep you in the motel room but no matter how hard they tried they were forced to watch you die again.

The worst part was that you were clueless.  Sam and Dean had to re-explain the ordeal to you everytime they woke up to that stupid song again, leaving you back at square one. They had lived through the day so many times that it had gotten to the point where they could both predict your sentences word for word and while it freaked you out, their patience was wearing thin. 

Until finally, something changed. Dean had asked the woman he kept bumping into to see her flyer. They finally had a lead. So, the next time Tuesday morning rolled around, they felt hopeful as they filed off the information to you. 

“When’d you get time to do all that research?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

Dean did not have the energy to answer, so he just stood, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

That was when Sam spotted it. The sticky, pink syrup sat in the dispenser next to the half eaten pancake. He frowned, stopping suddenly. When you noticed his absence you turned and asked him what was wrong.

Sam watched the man leave through the slats in the blinds. “That guy has maple syrup for the last 100 tuesdays, now all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?

“It’s a free country, Sammy. A man can’t choose his own syrup now? What have we become?”

“Not in this diner.” Sam shook his head. “Not today.”

“Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. “ Dean told you. “Except us.”

~

The two brothers nearly lost their shit when they woke up again, but by the time they had suffered through the morning routine and had reached the diner they had come up with a plan. 

There were no conversations during breakfast. The pair left you to ponder over your own thoughts after mentioning the idea of a time loop. Any of your questions went unanswered as they stared down the man, jumping into action when he rose, pushing the stool out with an ear splitting squeal and making his way to the parking lot. 

Dean gripped the man firmly, forcing him against the fence by the scruff of his neck and silencing his protests. “We know who you are. Or should I say what?”

You watched very confused from the side.

“Oh my god-” the man begged, wide eyed. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Uh, Boys-”

“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam seethed. 

“What?!”

“It’s your M.O that gave you away.” He continued. “Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay! Just put the stake down!” He pleaded, side eyeing the weapon that Sam pressed to his neck. Sam refused to move.

“Sammy, maybe you should-”

“No!” He yelled at you. The tone of his voice was so unexpected for Sam that you recoiled. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops- In fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god.”

“You’d have to be a trickster.” Dean spat.

“Misters…” The man pleaded shakily with tears in his eyes “My name is Ed Coleman. My wife’s name is Amelia- I’ve got two kids! For crying out loud I sell ad space!”

“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are!” Sam shouted into his face. 

“We’ve killed one of your kind before.”

There was a heavy paused before the grey hair and wrinkles on the man before you morphed into the all familiar face of the trickster you and your brothers had run into not too long ago. 

He smirked and your brothers’ faces dropped. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why her!?” Sam pressed, digging the stake into his neck. 

“You’re kidding?” The trickster replied “You all tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make you three suffer.”

“So this is funny to you? Killing her over and over again?” Dean gritted his teeth.

“One- yes, it is fun. And two -this is so not about killing Y/N. This joke is on you two. I mean… come on. How great has it been to watch you to see her being torn apart again and again. Watching your sister die everyday. Forever.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The trickster smiled. “How long will it take you to realise you can’t save your sister, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah? We kill you, this ends now.” Sam growled.

“Woah. Okay, look. I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be wednesday. I swear.”

“You're lying. “

He shrugged. “If I am, you know where to find me.”

~

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time-”

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he… made a double take. The small three letter panel now read ‘WED’

Sam couldn’t contain the gasp that fell from his lips. “It’s wednesday!”

“Yeah…?” You said from across the room where you were rummaging though your bag. “Which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that crap off, would you?” you asked him.

“No. Leave it on.” Dean interjected. He agreed with Sam. If he heard Asia one more time he was going to kill himself. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

“...No. Jesus, how many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Dean sighed. “Wait..what do you remember.”

“I remember you two being pretty whacked out yesterday. And then i remember running into the trickster. S’bout it really.”

“Right. Whatever. Lets get out of here.” Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

“What? No breakfast?” You asked, slightly upset that you were going to miss out on the diner food you had quite enjoyed yesterday. 

“No breakfast.”

~

Sam and Dean were still inside when they heard it. The unmistakable pop of a gun being fired. You were outside loading the last of your things into Baby and-

Sam's heart sank.

“Y/N!” He cried, dropping what he was doing and racing down the stairs towards you.

The offender fled the moment the gunshot had sounded and your two brothers could see him rounding the corner, but their concern was on you, sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood.

They shook you, crying out your name but you didn’t move. Your heart had stopped beating. 

“No. This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, only to nearly cry when he opened them again and you were still lying lifelessly in his brothers clutch. “We’re supposed to wake up.”

And then, he began to cry.

Part 2 may be coming…I’ll add it to my to do list

Sometimes it's a problem to know your friend too well🙄

Baby face

Summary: You start to get upset when Dean decides to shave off his beard

Word count: 0.5k

A/n: Live. Laugh. Love. Bearded Jensen.

༺═────────────═༻

Your hands gently moved through Deans beard, the small hairs causing you fingers to tingle from the sensation. His own hands rested on your thighs, holding you gently as you sat on top of the bathroom counter. 

“Princess?” He called, watching as your eyes drifted from the hair on his face to his relaxed ones. “Are you gonna start or are you gonna wait for it to grow longer?”

A small pout found its way onto your mouth, “I don’t want to get rid of your beard.” You whined, having half the mindset to hide the razor from the taller man. “I’d rather watch it grow.”

Dean mirrored your pout, albeit mockingly. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves, princess. It has to go.”

“Ok. But what if we just leave a bit of stubble instead?” 

“No.”

“But, it’s attractive.” You told him, hoping that’d he change his mind and keep it for just a little longer. 

“To bad.” He replied, stepping from between your legs. Taking a bottle of shaving cream and the razor from your grasp. “It’s starting to itch.”

You let out a small huff, slightly mesmerized at how he gently applied the shaving cream to the lower portion of his face. The fluffy white sudes mixing into the small strands thickly and throughly 

Dean wetted the blade beneath the warm faucet, giving it a good shake to take off all excess water. Fingers gently pressed against his chin, he began to shave against the grain of his beard. You felt your stomach drop as you watched the foam disappear and just the smooth skin left in its place. 

“What if you just keep a mustache?” You asked, leg coming up to your chest as you rested your chin on top. 

Dean stopped his movements, glancing at you through the mirror. “Absolutely not.”

A scoff came from your mouth. “Why not? Do you think you’d look like hitler or something?”

“I wasn’t thinking that, but now I am.” He told you, continuing to shave away at his facial hair. 

“So, no?”

“No.”

You shook your head, sliding off the counter as you made your way behind the older man. Placing both arms around his torso you rested your cheek against his back, listening for his heartbeat through the back of his shirt. 

“Princess,” Dean called, not stopping his movements. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t watch you ruin your face.” You told him bluntly, turning your face to bury it in his shirt. 

A chuckle left his lips, giving a smile glance over his shoulder to look at you. “Ruining my face, huh?” You nodded. “You know it’ll grow back, just like last time and the time before that.”

“But it’s torture.” You wined. “It’s like I’m dating a child when your done.”

Dean gave a small nod of his head, knowing that you’d either be talking about his childish behaviors or the baby face he’d get after shaving. Though it could just be both. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will it make you feel better if next time I let you shave me?” He asked, dragging the blade over the last strip of foam from his face. 

You nodded you head just a tad, “A little, yes.”

“Okay, princess.” He wiped any remaining shaving cream from his face before turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “We’ll do that.”

STRAWBERRY AND CIGARETTES

strawberry chapstick, cigarette smoke.

cw. reader wears strawberry chapstick, inexperienced!reader, a little bit of peer pressure, don't smoke kids no matter how sexy men are, not proofread

"smoking is bad for you."

your colleague looks up as he removes a pack from his right pocket, shifting it into his left hand as he takes out a lighter from the inside of his other pocket. you're frowning in disappointment, your arm leaning on the counter next to you as you stare.

"didn't know i had a babysitter on my hands—" he mumbles as he fishes a cigarette out, shoving the pack into the inside pocket of his blazer, "did they pay you extra for that?"

"very funny," you smile as your eyes shift between the lighter and the cigarette he holds, "just make sure to invite me to your funeral when you die of lung cancer."

"if i'm dying at an early age it definitely won't be from lung cancer." he laughs dryly, his fingers fiddle with the lighter; the cap is already hinged up, and you watch as his thumb scrapes the gear across the other, sending flames lighting on and off again, and he glances up at you, "wanna try one?"

you blink. it was all light teasing up to this point, but this actually makes you nervous, apprehensive even. it's dark outside, and it's only the two of you in this building; that fact makes you startlingly aware of every action, every rustle of his clothes, every clang of the machines around you.

"c'mon, babysitter," he chides, the teasing lilt at the edge of his voice sending shivers up your spine, "give it a spin."

"this counts as peer pressure, you know."

"i think we're a little bit more than just 'peers', but whatever makes you feel better."

you feel the heat on the back of your neck, tensing as you debate the action of smoking a highly addictive cancer stick that you've been warned your entire life not to touch. you know he won't actually care or berate you if you don't end up taking it, but you think that he might be just as addicting as the cigarette. he lights the end, and you can smell the burnt tobacco already—it smells rich and masculine, much like him.

"here, i'll go first so you don't have to." he helps himself, his lips wrapping around the paper. you don't think you've ever seen anything as attractive as the man in front of you inhaling, the muscle in his neck tensing for just a second before he exhales, blowing the smoke out of his lungs into the air that surrounds you.

well, shit.

your fingertips graze against his as he hands the cigarette over to you, your fingers tingling from his touch, your heart beating out of your chest as you bring it to your mouth. you inhale sharply, the nicotine making its way down your lungs before you end up coughing, a dry hack escaping your puffy lips as you cover your mouth. he has the decency to turn away while a hint of a smile plays on his lips, leaving you swallowing to gather the saliva down your esophagus; it helps, but your windpipe still feels bare and dirty, and you shake your head, laughing.

"get this thing out of my hands," you smile, embarrassed as you give the stupid thing back to him, "i dunno how you do it."

"it's probably better that you don't enjoy it," he affirms, before his eyes catch the edges of the top of the cigarette. there are wet streaks that line where your mouth was— they're wet, but not wet enough to be saliva, and he tilts his head, his tongue peeking out to his teeth, "you're not wearing gloss by any chance?"

"chapstick." you flush slightly, pressing your lips together, "strawberry-scented."

he hums, breathing out a puff of smoke playfully into your face—you wrinkle your nose, waving your hand to blow the smoke away but it stings your eyes anyways, and he laughs, taking another hit.

"wanna try something else?" his mouth says the words but he doesn't look at you, his eyes staring ahead to the moon that shines above you, the buildings whose lights slowly begin to flicker off as the day comes to an end.

"you don't think you've influenced me enough?"

"it's called shotgun smoking," his eyes flit towards yours, completely ignoring your question, "i breathe the smoke to you— just for fun of course."

"...of course." you echo his words blankly, your heart thundering in your chest as he shifts closer, his body domineering over yours. your hands grip the railing of the deck you stand on, watching as he maneuvers his hand right next to yours, turning his body so that he's right in front of you, you can't help but laugh, "isn't this just forced secondhand smoking?"

his lips quirk up into a smirk. "whatever helps you feel better."

with that, he lifts the cigarette, inhaling another puff of smoke. the butt of the cigarette faces you, and you think it might be the sun as it glows a fiery, angry orange, the bits of paper crisping up to black as they float down onto your clothes. he leans in closer, his lips only inches away from yours, and he softly exhales.

oh.

the scent of him is addicting, his arms trapping you against the edge as you breathe in the smoke, you don't cough this time, but you honestly think you might've disliked it if it weren't for him muddling all of your senses. the gray smoke overwhelms your nerves, it's dizzyingly bad how good it feels spasming in your chest, settling into your stomach. his hands lay flush against your own, heat emanating from every part of his body, and you're fleetingly aware of how close he is to you.

fuck it.

your hands grasp the collar of his shirt, and he lets out a muffled gasp of surprise as your lips connect with his. his lips are hot—it's actually warm— moving fluidly against yours. they're chapped, his bottom lip more than his top lip, but you don't really mind, not with the way his hand cups your neck and his head tilts to the side, his jaw flexing as he kisses you deeper.

his lips feel like liquid fire on yours, wreaking havoc where they spread, burning up your will to not consume him. you've always known he was a dangerous man, but this feels so much better than you could've imagined; he's greedy and needy as he kisses you, and you smile when his right hand drops the cigarette to reach for your waist instead, the burning smoke long forgotten when you're right there.

you separate your lips from his, a dazed grin on your face, as he moves his head with yours, breathing heavily under hushed tones. "wasn't that more enjoyable than a cigarette?" your thumb reaches up to his mouth, smearing the little bit of your chapstick to the rest of his lips. he can smell the sickeningly saccharine scent of strawberry invade his brain. it smells like you.

"can we do that again?" his voice is lower and huskier, staring unabashedly at your lips. they're so smooth compared to his, pillowy and soft, the taste of your chapstick lingers on his tongue—fuck, he can barely think straight.

you smile, crossing your arms. "no cigarettes for two weeks."

he doesn't need to be told twice. 

— aki hayakawa, shizuo heiwajima, geto suguru, keishin ukai, shikamaru nara, hirotaka nifuji, sniper mask, gray fullbuster, loid forger, simon 'ghost' riley, plus your other faves!

a/n: yeah i know half of these are ooc but i just wanted to include my fave smokers in one thing ugh i would destroy my lungs (among other things) for them

also genderbent shoko is definitely on this list