#lightning drabble

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Era: Whisperers Emotion: hurt/betrayal Random word: lie Requested by: anon! It was silent between you and Daryl, tense, for a long time as you rushed back toward safety. You were reeling, fuming. Beside you, you could feel him stealing glances at you. Instead of following the path he set, you broke off and found your own.  “Hey—” You ignored him, rushing forward through the brush. “Hey!” He said it as loudly as he dared, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. Daryl could see your jaw clench and he took several long strides and caught up to you, firmly grabbing your arm and stopping your progress. You were halted, but you wrenched your arm from his grip. Your eyes were sharp and narrow as you stared at him. “What?” you snapped. He shifted uneasily. “We gotta go ‘round. There’s a big open field straight ahead.”

Instead of saying anything, you simply brushed past him and resumed your furious pace through the brush. Daryl chewed his bottom lip and rushed after you again. “Y/N—” His legs were much longer than yours but he was still struggling to keep up. “The hell is wrong with ya? Slow the fuck down! We gotta keep quiet out here in case there’s any of them skin freaks around.” You didn’t even react to his voice this time and he swore under his breath. “Y/N, stop!” He grabbed you again and you turned on him and flung him off in one motion. He recoiled slightly and took in the hard look on your face. “The hell is goin’ on?” 

Your chest was heaving a little with angry breaths. “I went to that cabin Carol mentioned,” you said. “While I was missing, you were playing house,” you accused him.  He gulped and immediately ducked your eyes. “So, don’t ask me why I’m pissed, don’t grab my arm, don’t fucking try to slow me down right now, Daryl! Because I know. I was missing and I didn’t mean enough for you to keep looking!”

He felt like he had a huge, gaping open wound in his chest. He surged forward until he was standing uncomfortably close to you. “I thought ya were fuckin’ dead.”

This caused your breath to catch in your throat, but you quickly regained your composure. “You still haven’t stopped looking for Rick. But you didn’t give enough of a shit to—” “I was fuckin’ afraid of what I would find!” he roared at you, all thought of being quiet because of the Whisperers completely gone. “It was all a fuckin’ distraction and none of it fuckin’ worked!” Time: 10 minutes

[supernaturalfreewill]

You sat on the edge of the table where Cas had coaxed you, your feet dangling down, boots still on. Cas had spent most of his energy in the fight to keep you safe from the disaster you and he had suddenly been smack in the middle of. Now all he wanted to do was heal you completely, but he couldn’t. He had tried, and had managed to fix some of your more minor cuts and bruises but he had nothing left for the worst of it. At the moment the best he could do was tend to your injuries with the first aid kit. There was a vaguely blank expression on your face. You stared straight ahead with a soft frown curving your lips and your eyes seemed to be unfocused but searching--for what the angel couldn’t say. Cas was afraid he wouldn’t be able to reach you... you seemed to be so disappearing into yourself.

“Are you alright?”

But he had worried needlessly. You couldn’t hear his voice without it shifting something inside you. Your eyes founds his face, though they still seemed both frantic and sad somehow, despite how you had been sitting motionless and quite for some time now. You nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’m okay.”

Cas’s brow creased in worry. “What is it?”

You looked a little lost. “I’m not sure,” you said. Your voice was soft and sad.

Cas turned back to the gash in your shoulder. He unbuttoned the button on each wrist of your flannel and slid it from your shoulders, being careful not to drag the fabric over your wounds. His concern grew when he more closely examined your shoulder. The wound was deep. He pressed more gauze to it again as it began to bleed freely. “You must be in pain,” he said. “I wish I could take it all away now,” he added regretfully.

“It’s strange. I don’t feel it as much as I should. I almost feel numb.”

Cas’s frown deepened. Now he was worried you were going into shock... He quickly slipped his trench coat off and draped it around you to replace the bloody flannel shirt you had been wearing, being careful to leave it off your injured shoulder. He grabbed a towel and ran it under warm water. He worked as gently as he could, registering each twinge of your eyebrows as he cleaned the gash as best he could with warm water. Bloody hotel hand towels and wash cloths littered the outdated carpet by the time he was done. Cas hated the next part--the alcohol and the stitches. 

“You should lie down,” he said gently. “Here.” He stopped and untied your boots, letting them fall from your feet to the floor. He helped you move to the bed. You held his coat tightly around you, like it were a life-jacket or bulletproof vest. Maybe it was.

When you glanced up at him after you laid down on the bed, he was standing over you with a deep shadow across his face and worry lines creasing his forehead. His brilliant eyes were fixed on you, and you finally gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, Cas. You’re helping me.” 

Cas gulped at the nervous lump that formed in his throat. “I know... but--I wish I could just fix it. I wish I was stronger. Then you wouldn’t have to go through this.” He was surprised when he felt your fingertips slip in between his.

“It’s okay,” you said again. 

Cas’s eyes were fixed on your fingers between his, your skin against his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and you heaved a sigh and closed your eyes, prepared to endure the burn of the alcohol and the sharp pinch of the needle as he patched you up.

Later, you were asleep. And Cas kept watch over you. He covered you over with his trench coat, and added a blanket for good measure. The angel glanced around the hotel room. Blood soaked towels and strips of gauze lay strewn about. Your ruined flannel sat crumpled on the table.

His eyes found your face again, the shadow of a purple bruise now blooming along one side of your jaw. Things could be so dark, and yet there you were now sleeping peacefully. And you had held his hand. You had slipped your fingers between his. That was new. New and wonderful. 

Line from a book (or something): “I think a lot of things are wonderful, even though this world we live in might not be.” Character /pairing: Cas x Reader Mood/Emotion: sad, comfort, fluff! requested by: anonymous!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Era: the prison Emotion: yearning Random word: titillating  Requested by: @winchestershiresauce THANKS, BOO! <3 You were soaking in the sunshine out in the courtyard, honing the edge of your blade carefully with a whetstone, when you could feel someone’s eyes on you. Looking up you caught sight of Daryl standing a short distance away. He seemed to duck his eyes as soon as you looked at him and you grinned. “What’s up, Dixon?” you called to him.  He glanced up again and made his way over. “Hey,” he drawled.  “Hi,” you said, giving him a bright smile. The following silence was punctuated by the metallic singing of your knife against the stone. “Whatcha up to?” you asked. He shrugged. “Nothin’. Was gonna go out on the fence but it looks like Maggie and Glenn have got it covered.” His blue eyes were flickering between your face and your hands. You stared out across the yard and nodded. “Yeah, looks like they cut that herd down to something more manageable,” you commented. “I guess you’ve got the day off,” you added with a smile. “Mm,” he hummed, shifting a little nervously. He was trying hard not to stare at you but it was difficult. He watched you skillfully swipe your blade across the stone again before turning it to the other side. The metal sang and shone in the bright sun. His eyes were fixated on you and you finally noticed. You glanced up at him and tilted your head, a coy smile curving your lips. “Why’re you staring at me like that?” Shit. Busted. “Huh?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Nah, I ain’t—like what?” Your smile grew. “You’re staring,” you said again. “I know that look,” you said with a light laugh. You ducked your eyes and resumed sharpening your knife. Daryl raised his hand and nestled his thumbnail in between his teeth. “What look? I ain’t givin’ ya a look. ‘M just—” “Oh, you’re giving me a look...” you argued. You bit your bottom lip and slowly dragged the blade of your knife across the stone again before looking up at him pointedly.  He shifted nervously but met your eyes again. Another laugh bubbled out of you. “Wow,” you commented, your cheeks blushing. “Daryl Dixon...” “What?!” he huffed, acting annoyed even as his heart was pounding. You smiled up at him again, your eyes crinkling at the corners, sparks seemingly lighting up your eyes. “Is this turning you on?” you asked, gesturing to the whetstone in your hand with your knife. “Because the look you’re giving me is—well, it’s something.” He gulped. He knew if he opened his mouth the only thing that would come out would be a stammer. “I should have known that flirting with you would involve sharp objects,” you teased him. He blushed crimson up to his ears... A/N: okay, I’m obsessed with this... Time: 11 min 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Era: post-Rick’s “death”, pre-Whisperers Emotion: desire Random word: learning Requested by: @zasher

He hadn’t even seen you yet, but he knew the cadence of your footsteps. “Ya shouldn’ta come out here,” he drawled. You stopped for a moment and sighed. “Yes. I should,” you said. He heard your steps approaching again and in a moment you were standing in front of him, a bag of gear slung over one shoulder and your quiver on the other, bow in hand.  “Ya dun need anymore lessons,” he said, gravel heavy in his voice from disuse. You let out a wry laugh. “Daryl. I never needed lessons.” He looked up at you, a slight veil of confusion in his blue eyes. You dropped your bag and nocked an arrow on your bow, aiming for a can hanging from a bit of rope on one of Daryl’s noise alarms. It struck with a hearty plunk. You nocked another arrow and aimed at a squirrel pelt stretched on a nearby tree. The arrow found the center of it with a whoosh and a thud. One last shot landed an arrowhead straight into a glass jar perched on top of a nearby stump, shattering the glass. You turned back to Daryl with one eyebrow raised. He stared back. “I was gonna use that jar,” he drawled. You sighed and shot him an unamused look. “I come out here to be with you. Because you’re too damn stubborn to come back, even for a few days. And... I miss you,” you said. “And I needed an excuse.” Daryl shifted a little on the round of wood he was sitting on. When he next glanced up at you his expression had softened. The man was too proud to say it, but he was always so grateful when you came around. It lifted the dark cloud he felt was hanging over him. You were a ray of sunshine he didn’t think he deserved. You gave him a half-smile. “Alright. I brought food. And you’re gonna eat it,” you said digging in your bag. “Now take those clothes off—” you said, distracted. “W—What?”  You glanced up at him, confused by his anxious tone. “I brought you some clean clothes,” you said, confused still, unaware of what you’d said and what it’d done to him. “Oh. Right... right. Mhm,” he hummed, gulping nervously. He accepted the pile of clean clothes and disappeared into his tent, his heart still pounding. Time: 10 min

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

warnings: implied frightening scenario, domestic violence (nothing descriptive) Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Emotion: protective Random word: run Requested by: @kulicny (why is tumblr being a troll and not letting me tag ppl UGH) You had a stitch in your side and although your body was screaming for you to stop running, you ignored it and pushed ahead. Rounding the corner of the house you glanced back over your shoulder at the same time, certain you would see him closing in on you. But all you could make out was the dark street with patches of light spilling out from various windows. And shadows. Too many shadows for him to hide in. Abruptly, you collided with something solid.  And you couldn’t help it. You let out a shocked scream, terror widening your eyes as you looked up. You certainly would have fallen backwards onto the ground but he caught you. Daryl caught you. And his face was clouded with concern. Your lungs were on fire, tightening as you tried to suck in air. “S’goin’ on? What happened?” he asked urgently, releasing his gentle hold on your arms that had stopped you from falling. He could read the fear easily on your face. All you could do was peer back at him.  Suddenly there were footsteps approaching quickly. Daryl protectively stepped in front of you, shielding you behind him. You shrank, almost trying to disappear, as he came around the edge of the house. Daryl fixed his eyes on him in an angry glare. He stopped, his chest heaving too from chasing after you. “Y/N—” he noticed you over Daryl’s shoulder immediately. “Hey—I just want to talk to you,” he said. “This is none of your business. Why don’t you take a walk?” he said to Daryl. “Nah. I think it is my fuckin’ business. She dun wanna talk to ya. So fuck off,” he growled. He scoffed. “Listen, man. You’ve got no idea what this is about. I just want to talk to her.” He took a step closer and Daryl met him, his hands clenching into fists. “Talk, huh? That’s what ya call it? Ya think I ain’t noticed the bruises on her before? Why don’t ya fight somebody yer own size? I’d be happy to beat your ass into the ground.” He actually shrank slightly back from Daryl, and you briefly saw a flicker of fear on his face. You gulped again. “Ya ain’t ever layin’ a fuckin’ finger on her again, got it? Yer done. It’s over.” He knew he’d lose in a fight with Daryl. He backed up and scoffed, manufacturing a carefree expression. “Whatever, man. Bitch ain’t even worth it.” Before he could even turn away, Daryl had punched him hard across the face, laying him out flat on the pavement.  He shook out his fist and turned to face you, his expression softening immediately as he took in your still wide eyes. “Ya okay?” he asked gently. You looked up from the still form on the ground and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks...” you said softly. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “’Course. C’mon. Let’s get inside. Ya can take my room. I’ll make sure he dun come around to try nothin’ again.” “Oh—Daryl, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done more than—”

“Yeah, I do. Ya deserve to be safe. C’mon.” Time: 12 min

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Era: Whisperers Emotion: sad Random word: found Requested by: @ellerelly (tumblr won’t let me tag you UGH)

Daryl couldn’t help stealing glances as he walking beside you. Your arms were still tightly crossed over your chest. You were hugging yourself like it was giving you armor. Your eyes were wide and you seemed dazed still, clutching one hand over the wound on your upper arm that he’d patched up for you. He bit the inside of his cheek. “How long were ya with ‘em?”

You glanced over at him and he saw the weight of the sadness you were bending under. Your lips parted slightly to answer, but it seemed to take you a moment to find your voice. “Um—some of them since almost the beginning. Others—we found each other along the way.” Your eyes turned back down toward your boots moving through the long grass. He nodded. His mind went to all the people in his collected family lost over the years... “‘M real sorry. That yer goin’ through this. I can’t imagine losin’ everybody all—” He cut himself off, seeing a few tears escape onto your cheeks. You hastily wiped them away with your sleeve. “Anyway—yer one of us now. And these Whisperers are gonna get what’s comin’ to ‘em.” You glanced over at him. He sounded so sure. “I’mma make sure,” he said again, nodding. You’d known this man all of four hours, but somehow you believed him. Time: 5 minutes

[supernaturalfreewill]

You rushed to the front door and yanked it open, surprised to find Gabriel standing on your stoop with a tiny fake french mustache stuck on his upper lip.

You put a hand to your forehead. “Oh... God. Gabe--” “Good afternoon, madam? May I come in?” he asked in an affected (and dramatic) French accent.

You stared at him, your jaw dropped a little open and watched him breezing in past you into the foyer. “Sssssuuuuuuuure...” you said after he was already inside. You shut the door behind him and waited for whatever was to come.

You had learned with Gabriel that it was usually just best to humor him and allow him to get through whatever he had planned. “Oh, zis light! Zis place! And what a bee-yoo-tee-ful face!” he said with a flourish. “Oh, but zat outfit...” he clicked his tongue at you. “No, no, no. Zis is no good--my dear, zis is just not your color?” You looked down at your top, bewildered. “Oooookaaaaaay...” You looked back up at him and crossed your arms. “Alright then, Romeo. What IS my color then?” Gabriel smiled. That was it. You had played right into his hands. “Mmmhmmhmmhmm,” he laughed. “Ho HO! May I suggest--nude?” He grinned from ear to ear, relishing how easily he had reached his punchline.

“GABE!” you yelled, hitting him on the arm. He laughed heartily and pulled off the fake mustache (and the beret) and swept an arm around your lower back, pulling you in against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he tugged you in. You were trying to give him a stern look, but you could feel yourself smiling. “Too much?” he joked. “You’re always too much,” you said. “But that’s why you like me.” You considered him for a moment, studying the hues of hazel and amber in his eyes, finally brushing your fingers through his hair. “Some days,” you teased. He raised his eyebrows at you and stuffed the beret back onto his head. “Zat is it! I have had enough of zis foolishness!” He hoisted you up over his shoulder and you squealed and kicked playfully. “Zis whole thing is a do-over! We must start from scratch! Undress and re-do! To ze bedroom!” You both laughed the whole way. Prompt: "Sweetie, that's so not your color." Pairing: Gabriel x Reader requested by: anonymous!

[supernaturalfreewill]

Character/Pairing: Cas Mood: sleepy Random word: warm Requested by: anonymous :) “Hey,” a soft voice barely cut into your unconsciousness, but a sudden warm hand on your shoulder, gentle and still, pushed away the blackness.

You inhaled a sudden breath, as one does emerging from cold water, and pulled your head off your arms, turning to see that it was Cas standing beside you. You rubbed a hand over your eyes. “Cas. Hi.”

He straightened up, but his blue eyes traveled over your face still and the crumpled wrinkles folded into your sweater from sleeping on your arms at the table all night. “What are you doing? It’s still early morning. Were you here all night?” he asked you, concern evident.

You started to stack away books and straighten the papers in front of you, covered with your scribbles and doodles. You were reaching for a heavy book to close it up, when Cas’s hand gently caught yours and stopped you dead. A jolt of electricity shot up your arm at his touch and your fingertips tingles like they were asleep.

“Would you leave it? You’re exhausted. Go get some rest. This all can wait.”

“I don’t want to leave it all a mess--” you started to protest, but Cas gently squeezed your hand before relinquishing it and giving you a knowing look. He was right. You were exhausted.

“You’ve done more than enough for now. As usual,” he said, giving you a warm smile. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed and you decided that perhaps he was right. Without his intervention you would run yourself ragged.

“I’ll clear this up. You just get some rest,” he said. “Goodnight.”

You returned a fond smile, your cheeks coloring a little. “Goodnight, Cas...”