#lightning drabble

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

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—”

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.

Character/Pairing: Sam x Reader Mood: lonely Random word: dog Requested by: @deanlenaotp

It still happened sometimes. Even now... when it had been so long. 

It could be the smallest thing that would send him reeling, toppling, sinking.

Sometimes it was a smell, a noise, some shape out of the corner of his eye that he convinced himself was you--some ghost left behind. He would live in a blissful world where he genuinely believed for a moment that it was you about to walk in the room--blissfully occupied a time for a split second where none of the loss had shredded him.

And when that false reality shrank away the only thing he could do was hold tight his last living, breathing connection to you.

“Hey, Rugby. Hey, buddy,” Sam said. He sunk down onto the floor of the room you had once shared together. Your dog, now his dog, was laying in his usual spot on the rug in the middle of the room and gave only a few thumps on the floor with his tail as Sam sank down beside him.

He scratched behind his ears and smoothed the fur around his collar. Rugby let out a sigh.

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.”

“Sam get up,” Someone is shaking him and Sam groans, glaring up at a curtain of hair and a sweat-filled forehead. 

“You better be dying or about to murder someone,” He mumbles, hauling ass out of bed. 

“They’re going to be here soon!” Buck’s voice is strange, it’s high pitched and Sam glances at him, a little concerned.

“Who’s coming?”

“C’mon we need to go get the chloroform.”

“Chloroform?” Sam’s bewildered but Buck takes his arm and clamps it in his metal one, tugging him down the corridor.

“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2 am?” Sam asks as he’s being dragged. 

He’s slowly beginning to realize that the soldier is having an episode, his feet are too uniform for him to be the real Buck. Sam feels like swearing but instead he runs a hand down his face, counting the lights in the hallway they pass, trying to gain a recollection of how to get to Steve in the madness of this tower. Dammit Tony. 

Natasha comes out from her room then, her hair curled and her eyeliner perfectly winged. She looks good and Sam knows she’s about to leave for a mission, there’s a knife by her ankle. But Bucky stiffens and Sam knows he’s on alert. 

“’Tash!” Sam yells as he’s thrown to the side, his arm suddenly being let go, sending him careening to his ass. Natasha barely has time to turn before she’s being pinned to the wall by a metal arm, her hands clenched in one of Bucky’s fists. 

“Name, rank, station,” Bucky drones. Clarity fills her features and Natasha screws her eyes shut as if trying to remember her rank, pretending to be a bit scared, as any Hydra officer would. “Natasha Romanav, foot soldier, Gehenna.”

She slides down to the wall, rubbing her wrists as Bucky begins his march again. Steve sidles up to her, yanking her up and sprinting after the rogue, he can hear her heels keeping track beside him. The air is cold in the tower tonight and Sam hopes that won’t impede their efforts to remind him that he’s not in Russia right now. 

“Winter!” Sam yells, nodding his head in the direction of an adjacent hallway, it’s dark and he knows there’s some labs down there. Hopefully there’s an emergency medical kit they keep around down there. Tony had some fully loaded with sedatives after his own PTSD rampage. After a repulser sized hole was formed in one of the lab windows. 

The sounds of boots changes direction and Sam sighs some relief, hanging his head and following. Natasha’s discarded her jacket and heels now, her feet padding down the light blue tiles, her knife in her hand. She’s tucked her curls into a short ponytail, her cheekbones illuminated even more in the dim light. 

He’s still in sweatpants, shirtless and more than a little cold. 

Glass shatters, they sprint ahead and Bucky’s down, down, eyes closed, barely breathing down. 

“What the hell?” Natasha gasps too but slinks down to the ground anyway, checking for a pulse. They look around, up at the vents, at anything that could’ve taken down a killing machine that shortly. When they come up with a blank they don’t know whether to fall back into a calm state of numbness or worry about Bucky and drive him to a hospital. 

He looks comfortable, his hands slack and face pink, it looks like he fell asleep here. Maybe he did, Sam isn’t sure, but he knows he sure as hell can’t carry him back to his room alone and Nat may be stronger than she looks but she’s still only so many pounds. 

Sam sighs and turns, pulling his phone out of his pockets, sending a quick text to Steve. 

Bucky had an episode, nobody hurt but he’s fallen asleep??

I’ll come get him, happens more often than you’d think

Steve’s reply pings back. Sam feels a little more at peace but he looks at his own scars from battle, the ridges on his knuckles and thanks God his mind is intact. 

Thanks God that at least Bucky has them. 

It’s time for another round of SUPERNATURAL DRABBLES!

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