#scftmen

He stays silent, doesn’t utter any word to reply to that teasing greeting. His eyes staring darkly at the other, his expression stern. He doesn’t stir as the other male moves closer, bringing their faces together. The other’s scent is everywhere. Being so close, it feels like it’s already entered his bloodstream. Lips graze his own. The slightest touch. The softest tingling.

He growls, jaws clench.

𓆩♡𓆪ㅤㅤKISS, KISS, KISSㅤㅤbc she feels unloved IF YOU CARE

Normally she's get onto him for his impulsive puppy ass not asking before he kissed her.... but something about that kiss was different. Pure affection.

She could let that go, mostly because it was such a genuine expression of admiration for her presence that she couldn't find a way to reasonably scold that.

So instead, she opted for a fond look, and a small-

"Hey Gabe."

Discovery! - At a later date, upon opening the bag's deepest confines is a small koala stuffed animal no bigger than the size of her palm with a package of original Tim Tams. Was it her thing? No, but was it the thought that counted? Yes.

Well she had to admit it was creative, and original, and the thought was actually really really sweet. Her smile was actually very genuine as she looked through its little instruction card.

"This is actually pretty amazing Gabe. Thank you."

And she will show her gratitude with a gentle and genuine kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He didn't take pleasure in it. Perhaps that was a lie because there was something satisfying about putting a dog to sleep. The wires in his mind were crossed, and as much as Dean wanted to say he was born a little messed up, it was his upbringing which made him so unfazed by death and pain. The world WORKED and it operated in black-and-white, yet he had known humans to be serial killers and shifters to never hurt a person, or so they claimed.

Life would be easier as a vigilante, that way he would have valid reasons to stab a knife into someone's thigh before going for the killing blow. Dean wasn't really going to kill the werewolf though from the first time he caught his scent that had been the plan. If it was weird, it was put down. The black-and-white mentality hammered into his mind by his father was mucked up with greys and reds.

He could have shifted and could have ripped Dean's throat out, tried to at least. The stab wasn't lethal but the wolf's bane and silver couldn't have felt spectacular. Hazel eyes stared intently as the werewolf's face @scftmen contorted in pain and... was that fear.. and anger? He didn't retaliate. Shit, maybe Dean's intel was fucked. There was a werewolf who killed a family of three, and this wasn't it. Dean without mercy retracted the blade, wiped the blood slick blade across his jeans, then clamped his palm over the wound.

“ ....You'll heal. ”

The hunter wasn't about to apologize. If this had been the first time he countered something unexpected, he wouldn't have hesitated to plunge the knife into his throat. Dean sheathed his hunting blade into the leather sheath attached to to his belt hoop. He jumped back like fire burned him and inspected the sticky mess of blood on his palm. His face was lined tough but he did feel bad. He retrieved a metal flask from the pocket of his plaid jacket, unscrewed the top, and messily washed the wound with holy water. It would disperse the wolf's bane and aid in the healing.

“ I bet you've done some fucked up shit. ”

As had Dean. As had everyone. It was as if the hunter was still trying to justify his actions without the killing blow.

Do I look like a mythological creature -- looks were deceiving. Lambert knew that better than anyone else; he was willing to bet on that. People guilty of horrible crimes mingled with the masses, smiling and pleading innocence, but those things weren't Lambert's particular concern. He didn't care about the sins of man. He cared about the sins of monsters. It wasn't black and white though keeping things simple made life... well, simple. To kill and hunt without battling morality was the way to live, however his witcher playbook often brought trouble to his door. His matter-of-fact methods of hunting and killing tended to rub things the wrong way. Fathers, girlfriends, spawns tended to seek answers and revenge.

Black and white. Black and white. If anyone dared to come sniffing around, then there would be another body for cleanup. Now with this target, would he have to put up with a bunch of nutjobs? What a fucking mess. Not that Lambert was the kind to hide his killings. Still, it was a pain in the ass. There were times the witcher truly believed humans were worse than monsters. Of course there were literal blood suckers infiltrating the government, then there were humans who huddled in masses, were willing to sacrifice their life for some golden leader. What a joke. Smack dab in the middle of human hell was a wolf. Wolf in dirtbag clothing. Lambert didn't hide his eyes. Gold, cat-like eyes bore holes into the werewolf's head @scftmen. It was a sign of of danger and ego. Why would Lambert hide who he was? Hiding was weak.

“ No, you don't. You look like a crazy, but that's the whole point. ”

He snorted derisively, then sniffed the air in a pretentious fashion as he stepped closer and closer.

“ You smell. I can smell it on you -- the fleas, the fur, your fear. Imagine all these nutjob's reactions if they found out you're a freak of nature. ”

The Quaesitor, skadden star and mcu2 from Damien!

👨‍👩‍👦 For my muse to talk to yours about his family

"I guess it's only fair that you're confused," he explained softly, realizing how his speech might've created a few knots in the other's mind.

"My biological father, Paolo, is still very much alive. He lives back in Mexico, I think," he added, his eyes a little darkened by the memory of that man. Not something he was too fond of reminiscing, even if more than a decade had past since he last saw the man.

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

Safest - HERE