HEY I KNOW YOUR WORKING IN MY OTHER REQUEST RN BUT HEADCANNONS ON WHAT DATING RANDY WOULD LOOK LIKE KINDA

HEY I KNOW YOUR WORKING IN MY OTHER REQUEST RN BUT HEADCANNONS ON WHAT DATING RANDY WOULD LOOK LIKE KINDA LIKE AN EXTENSION ON THE CUDDLING HEADCANNONS YOU JUST DID 🤩🤩🤩🤩

Randy Meeks Heacanons: Dating Randy would include.

Warnings: Swearing lol, probably typos or bad constructed english

Edited?: Like always, no.

Reader's pronouns: Not stated, gender neautral.

Summary: Dating Randy headcanons!!

Author's note: RANDYYYYYYYYYYYY not enough works for him, so i gotta keep up with his requests. also kudos to alex for requesting constantly with great ideas :) i had so much fun making these.

criticism, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, tatum riley, sidney prescott, mickey altieri, kirby reid, chad meeks martin, mindy meeks martin, tara carpenter, anika kayoko and laura crane.

a lot of forehead kisses

cheek kisses too

he just looks like the type. he's gotta go to class? have a cheek kiss. you're meeting up? cheek kiss. you made him laugh? cheek kiss. going to sleep? cheek kiss. whatever, cheek kiss.

him being rather shy at the beginning of your relationship, but growing bolder as the time passes.

holding hands!!!! he loves holding hands. he actually blushed the first time you guys held hands, he's that cute.

getting along with his little sister martha!!! even teaming up against him with her lmao.

lots of dates, and a lot around getting food/eating/cooking/going to restaurants.

but i'm also not gonna lie, movies and dates are a big deal.

movie marathons! movie nights! going to the theater!

cuddling with randy (headcanons here)

you better not like guilty pleasure movies too much because if he has to cinematically roast you HE WILL.

learning a lot about movies and cinematography because he doesn't shut the fuck up.

but it's not like you want him to shut up like, ever.

competing to see who can insult people more 'culturally'

(like homo-repressed mama's boy, creepy tarantino film student, leatherface, pussy ass-wet-rag)

he likes dancing with you and will do so with absolutely every excuse he can think of.

the kind to get drunk, flirt with you and get really sad when you tell him you have a very loving boyfriend (he doesn't realize that's him)

really sweet

if he ever meets your parents, he'll most probably win them over. he's still walking on eggshells around them.

compliments you/what you're wearing every single day.

even if it's just your socks, he always says something nice to you.

he's so greatful to have you.

the type to walk out of arguments when things get heated, before any of you can say anything you'd regret.

he adores you, he could listen to every single thing you say for the rest of his life.

randy doesn't care if you're just talking about your favorite type of pen, he'll listen like you're trusting him with the secrets of the universe.

he remembers a lot of little details because of this.

call him 'pretty boy' and he'll be yours forever.

not a cheater :) (THE BARE MINIMUM---)

he rarely ever lies to you. he'd let you go down to the basement with him in a horror movie, and that's a shit lot of trust.

quotes different romantic dialogues from different movies, but it's always at the most unexpected/worst timing.

he's so goofy i love him.

always making sure you're okay, no matter where you at. it doesn't have to be a frat party for him to worry about your well-being

randy walks you everywhere, no matter how impractical that can be.

especially at night. he doesn't want you to go out alone when it's dark.

overall, he's a really good boyfriend, although i'm not getting involved with the angsty stuff.

Dean Winchester x Reader: worrying chronicles.

Warnings: Swearing (probably), angsty?? but not really. John Winchester mentioned throughout the whole thing.

Tags: a bit angsty but with happy/fluffy ending, childhood friends, can be read as romantic, romantic coded, hunter!reader, reader has known sam and dean since kids, season 1, pre-season 1, can be read as black reader, can be read as plus size reader.

Reader pronouns: Non stated.

Word count: 1036

Summary: Dean calls reader and tells them he’s going to Stanford to get Sam. Reader wants him to rest.

Author’s note: I rarely ever write for Dean! Not because I don’t like him (I LOVE HIM), but because since I haven’t finished the show (i’m on season 8) the requests have to be either pre-show or within those seasons. Anyways, Dean and Sam Winchester requests are open, but with those conditions !! love my boys <3 graphic made by me (CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW PRETTY HE IS?)

You weren’t doing anything special when Dean called, you were planning foods and cooking weeks in advance. The hunter life you had led all your life had taught you enough to know homemade foods were a privilege, and that new hunts would always come into your life without a warning, wrecking all your plans. So, after those terrible, almost death experiences you liked to call a work well done, it was nice to go back home and find your fridge full of frozen food you could just heat up and eat.

It was the ringing of the phone that made you lift your gaze up from the vegetables you were cutting so carefully, your movements coming to a halt in order to not lose a finger without it being in a worthy battle. You didn’t let go of the knife as your hand, after slightly cleaning it against your jeans, came to grab the cell phone on the counter. Barely glancing at the name from whom the call was, you pressed the device against your ear and continued with your work.

“It’s me.” You answered quickly, hearing the background noise from the other side of the line. It was easily recognizable, considering you were able to recognize the noises Dean’s Impala made even in your deepest sleep. Perks of being friends. “Y’know, you shouldn’t make phone calls while driving.”

“I can do two things at once.” Dean said with a little huff, and even though you were probably a good amount of miles apart, you noticed the way his voice didn’t sound the same. He had never been good with masking his worry, and you had never been good at not worrying about him. 

You stopped cutting slowly and moved away from the counter. If something had happened, you couldn’t have your attention split in two. “Yeah, you tell that to the cops… Is everything alright?”

A beat of silence, which Dean used to avoid your question. “I’m driving to Stanford to go get Sam.”

“What?”

The silence let you know Dean wouldn’t be repeating himself, but thankfully enough he stayed on the line, waiting for your amazement to reduce. You had known the Winchesters for years — Hell, you three had practically grown together. It had been some long time ago, but you still remembered like it was yesterday the phone call you received from Dean to tell you that Sam had given up on the hunter life and basically left home after a big argument with their dad, John Winchester. You also remembered Sam’s call, after Dean’s, telling you the news. It hadn’t hurt from Sam’s part, knowing that was what was best for him, but it had from Dean’s, since he hadn’t been able to accept that his brother leaving had nothing to do with him.

You wanted to tell Dean that dragging Sam back into a life he did not want was not what he was supposed to do as a brother, but your mind went into another direction, knowing he wouldn’t accept that lesson from you; or anyone. All these years, Dean had been working wonderfully with his father, or so he made it look like — if he needed Sam, something bigger was happening, and he wasn’t completely avoiding telling you.

“Why?” You asked finally, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Was a headache coming your way already?

“My dad’s on a hunting trip.” He replied quickly, and something in the way he  said it told you he had rehearsed those same words a lot. Not because of being untrue, though, you knew John had gone on a big trip on his own for some reason Dean either didn’t want to tell you or didn’t know about. “He hasn’t called, he hasn’t said anything. I don’t know crap about him.”

That was bad. John could be an asshole, but his rules during a lone hunt were unbreakable, and those included informing constantly about his whereabouts. “Have you asked Bobby? Maybe he—”

“No one knows anything.” Dean interrupted you, rather abruptly. He was truly worried, and you just hoped he wouldn’t lose sight of the road ahead of him. “Nothing, none, nada. I’m getting Sam, and we're going to find where the hell he is.”

“Dean, wait.” Your glance shifted to the clock in your kitchen, your hand closing in a nervous fist. “It’s too late. You should rest tonight and go tomorrow morning, early.”

You could almost see him shaking his head. “We can’t lose time.”

“What is going to change if you arrive tonight at Stanford?” You insisted, rolling your eyes at how strong headed he was. Years together, and you still were amazed at how little he listened. “Dean, you’re in no condition to drive. You’re tired and nervous, just drive to my place, and then tomorrow—”

He called out your name rather harshly, to make you stop. “I have to find him.”

“And you will. Just come and rest, De.”

Your eyes glanced again at the clock when silence and the noises from the road were the only thing you could hear. Dean was really good with his car and he didn’t drive badly, but when he was worried things changed — you had been in enough almost accidents for you to have good reasons to not want him so late in the road. And he knew you were right, but the decision was on his hands, and it couldn’t help but irk you slightly.

You could still push it, though. “Please?” You murmured, loudly enough for him to hear it but also low enough to be able to be lost in the distance between you.

Dean clicked his tongue, and then sighed. “I’m fifty miles away. Don’t wait for me, I’ll climb through your window or something.”

“I’ll wait.” You retorted, with that voice you used to show you were completely adamant about your decision. It wasn’t difficult to hear the little huffed chuckle he let out, and it made you ease up, to know he was finally slowing down and rationalizing things. “Don’t run too much, dickhead.”

With a little scoff, Dean hung up and you found yourself smiling at nothing at all. 

hi!! i'm not sure if you'd be comfortable with this, but would you be able to do something with billy loomis x reader where the reader is possibly plus sized and has old sh scars? if you're not comfortable with the last part i understand.

Billy Loomis x Reader: draw stars around my scars

Warnings: Swearing (probably), self-harm topics, self-harm scars, reader did self-harm but now is better, bad reaction at first, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS ARE GOING TO TRIGGER YOU.

Tags: healing, reader can be read as plus size, reader has stretch marks, reader has self-harm scars, projecting heavily

Reader pronouns: Non stated.

Word count: 1122

Summary: Billy sees Reader's self harm scars for the first time, on accident.

Author’s note: hi, thank you for requesting! this was healing to write, to be honest. as someone who dealt with self-harm for very long years, all i can say is that it does get better, you have to believe for a better way out for yourself and be very focused on your goal on staying clean. no one deserves to hurt themselves, i promise. if any of you reading this is at a very bad moment, if you self-harm, please know that my inbox and dms are always open for you to rant, even if we've never ever talked before. you can send whatever you want, do it with anonimity if you want through my inbox. but please, know that you're not alone. please, you need to do your best to get help, and if you can't, you must believe in yourself.

i never got help, and i'm still here, and honestly, i thought i would have ended all of this more than two years ago. please, please, stay strong. find your passion, stick to it. i'm leaving this my chemical romance song, because they really got me through my worst times, and the lyric "I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scars. Give a cheer for all the broken. Listen here, because it's who we are." really resonated with me and made me believe there was more than hurt. i'm always here for you <3

criticism, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, tatum riley, sidney prescott, mickey altieri, kirby reid, chad meeks martin, mindy meeks martin, tara carpenter, anika kayoko and laura crane.

Having Billy over wasn’t weird, in fact, you had grown so used to him sleeping around and staying until very late hours in your bedroom, that not having him there sometimes got lonely and awkward. You didn’t know much about the situation between his parents other than they had been fighting a lot lately, but that was enough, and you didn’t need to know more to offer a place for him to stay.

That night, you had just come out of the shower with the warm towel around your body when you heard some sounds outside your window. They were the kind of sounds stones made against wood, the kind of sounds Billy made to let you know he was outside, but you still got closer to the window to check if it was him. You saw him outside, with his denim jacket closed around his torso and his hand holding little stones he had gathered around your garden, waiting for you. When he saw you, he waved slowly and gestured to the window, for you to open it.

Making him a sign to wait, you stepped away from the window and hurried to put some clothes on before opening the window for him to climb and enter your bedroom. You settled for a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts, leaving the towel on top of your bed so you could finally let him enter.

Once you opened the window, you stepped back knowing he would climb up without any difficulty — he had really grown to master the art of climbing through your window. Billy was fast, and no longer holding the stones since you had finally realized he was outside, he appeared by your window and jumped inside with ease. 

“I’ve been outside for fifteen minutes.” He grunted as he cleaned his palms against his jeans, then pushed the rebel strands of his black hair away from his eyes.

“I was showering, I didn’t hear you.”

That made him look up, that little but still sweet smile of his appearing in his lips because God, did he like being with you — and it disappeared when his eyes landed on a particular place on your thighs, and you knew what he was looking at as soon as his eyes snapped back onto yours, something close to rage filling them up.

You had always been so careful hiding your scars. Lately, it was more because of not wanting to have difficult and awkward conversations and not because of being a constant in your life — the self-harming had stopped some time ago already, you had outgrown it, realizing that hurting yourself was something that you did not deserve. The scars were tricky to see, considering they were placed high on your thighs, and even if you wore regular shorts they were almost impossible to see, but these cotton shorts were shorter than usual. 

“Billy—”

“Tell me you’re not doing any of that shit to yourself.” He demanded, and his voice sounded as cold as ice, as hard as steel. Billy wasn’t going easy on this, and you didn’t expect less out of him.

“It was a long time ago.” You said, your voice remaining calm. It was for a few seconds, but your eyes followed him in the path to your thighs, to the scars matching the stretch marks. They were part of you now. “I’m alright now.”

The breath that Billy let out was shaky, which surprised you. He got a step closer to you, then regretted and backed away slightly. You knew his eyes were now scanning your arms, and you knew that, if he looked hard enough, he could also see the ones there — that, or you were the only one who could see the invisible traces the razor had carved into your skin in your worst moments, which was also possible. Some sights were impossible to forget.

“You are okay?” Billy asked softly, with a reason to doubt you. You had been dating him for months, being friends for years, but you still hadn’t told him — you had let him figure it out, by accident. 

You nodded. “I promise. I am. I’m clean, I’ve been clean for more than a year.”

Billy nodded slowly, almost like he wasn’t paying attention — but you knew he was. His steps were quick when he walked towards you and pulled you into a swift, loose hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tight around him. You wished you could go back and show that moment to your past self, as a promise that everything would work out, that you deserved better. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked in a whisper, and if you didn’t know him better, you could have sworn his voice was strained with emotion. It was. “I could’ve… fuck. Don’t ever do that again, please.”

“I know, I know, it was just…” You shook your head and let yourself hug him a little bit tighter. “It was difficult, bad timing and all… I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

“Billy, it’s not your fault.”

Billy pulled back slightly from you, looking into your eyes in earnest. “It’s not yours either.”

You smiled softly, and caressed his cheek with tenderness written all over your face. You hadn’t loved anyone more in your whole life. “I know.” You said, nodding your head, and it was true.

Billy watched you again, carefully, from head to toe, and only closed his eyes once he convinced himself that you were alright. It wasn’t something violent to see, it was calming — his worry for you, although at first rather rough and unmoving, healed the open wounds in you that always tried to lead you back into your old ways. The sickness of the addiction had been the worst, wanting to stay clean but slumping again, and again and again, but you were better now. You should have believed when you had heard that things would get better.

In silence, Billy pointed at your bed with his head, as his hand slid into yours firmly but softly. You only nodded, and put the towel away before you two slid into your covers. His hand wrapped around your hips, and it took you a little to realize that his fingers were deftly tracing your scars around, small tickles caressing your skin.

“I’m okay.” You muttered with a little smile on your lips, looking up to him.

Billy hummed lightly, and his lips came to your forehead, kissing you tenderly. You searched for his free hand and shifted around to find a comfortable position, snuggling against him, and feeling calm for the little, incoherent drawings his fingers made into your skin.

art is done with a purpose --- mainly, that purpose is to serve people, to be liked/enjoyed/experimented. when talking about fanfiction, this purpose intensifies.

i'm not guilt tripping anyone, but when you don't comment and just like, you're not helping our motivation. most of us love the validation we get from someone obviously enjoying our work so please --- comment. even if its key smashing. we appreacite it, A LOT.

most of us, if not all of us, are friendly. i've made countless of friends with the people who have appreciated my stuff, requested more and enjoyed it. i will always answer kindly to anyone who has supported me, who has believed in me.

Dean Winchester x Reader: tolerate it.

Warnings: Swearing (probably), angsty?? and with fluff but it remains angsty until the end. also, dean doesn't (know how to) acknowledge reader's obvious feelings for him, lowercase intended, unrequited love coded.

Tags: angsty, hunter!reader, reader has known sam and dean since kids, no season states, can be read as black reader, can be read as plus size reader.

Reader pronouns: they/them (used once)

Word count: 785

Summary: When Reader bursts into tears because of seeing Dean hurt, he doesn't know how to react.

Author’s note: another dean thingie because angst is my specialty and i was feeling THAT kinda way... I rarely ever write for Dean! Not because I don’t like him (I LOVE HIM), but because since I haven’t finished the show (i've just finished season 8) the requests have to be either pre-show or within those seasons. Anyways, Dean and Sam Winchester requests are open, but with those conditions !! love my boys <3 also gif is not mine.

you cried when you saw dean really hurt after a hunt for the first time in long months.

it made you feel childish and stupid, as you had been into the hunter life for as long as he had, as you two and sammy had been through hell and back; but when you saw the exhaustion in his face, the hopeless look in his eyes as he tried not to move his arm too much because the pain was piercing and burning him, you couldn't help it. tears had ran down your cheeks in silence, blurring the sight of the gold rush of a man you called dean, but before you could turn your face away from him and sam, they saw you.

"hey..." dean started, and that was enough for you. you couldn't take it.

your steps were quick towards the door of that old, stinky motel dorm the three of you had found hours ago, making sure to grab dean's impala keys before you stepped outside. sam called out your name and even opened the door, fearful that you might just take the car and drive away from them and the reality, the pain, the misery. but you only needed the keys to open the door to the car and lock yourself in, spacing out of everything around you to try and rationalize the cascade of emotions you were feeling.

sam sighed softly, almost in relief, when he saw you weren't going anywhere, and he closed the door with care before turning to his brother. dean's eyes were filled with worry, an anxious expression that sam hadn't seen many times outside of the battlefield, but he understood.

"should i..." dean had to clear his throat to recover his voice from the surprise, the hoarse shock your reaction had thrown him onto. "should i go talk to them?"

"later?" sam asked like that was dean's original idea. he heard dean rushing to him in agreement, like he had never intended to go right now. "yeah, i think you should. later."

dean nodded stiffly. "later."

later was an eternity, but dean waited. he cleaned his wound, patched it up with sam's help, got a beer and then he got a second one, and a third one. he waited, sitting in his bed with his gaze lost in the floor boards beneath his boots, and sam didn't try to pull him back to reality.

later came when sam decided to get into bed, shutting the little lamp by his side. dean brushed his face with his hand, rather harshly to wake himself up from the trance he had put himself into, and then he moved the curtains to the side to make sure you hadn't drive away from them. you hadn't, and he already knew that because he would have heard you, but his heart slowed down at the sight of you still in the car.

dean closed the door to the room softly and made his way to the door slowly. you had your eyes closed, as you sat on the drivers seat, not asleep but completely disconnected from your surroundings. he had to knock on the glass window to get you to open your eyes, and your eyes softened when they locked with his, so soft, so caring.

surrounding the car, dean got into the passenger seat as soon as you allowed him too, closing the door to allow the intimate conversation to stay inside the vehicle.

"hey."

"hey." you muttered. you let your eyes close for longer than usual, then turned to look at him. "i'm sorry, i overreacted."

dean pursed his lips slightly. "we've gotten through so much worse. you know that."

"i know." your voice was barely a whisper. "i know. i just worry, you know? i... can't really help it."

"i know." he nodded along to his words, giving them value, making you feel like he was finally listening to what you had to say. still, your heart ached. "but i'm alright. i promise."

"we always are."

he only looked at you from the corner of his eyes. "it's what the job asks of us."

"i know." you had never sound so bitter in your entire life, you knew. but he avoided to look at you, and you did the same. "you're alright."

some beats of silence. then, a slow grin started forming in his face, "you should've seen the other guy."

"too soon."

"ah, c'mere." his arm extended and wrapped you around your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. you let him handle you, accommodating your head against his good shoulder, closing your eyes. your heart ached more and more and more--- "we've survived. that's enough."

but it wasn't.

the scream fandom is starving from lack of mickey altieri fanfiction and it looks like it's my job to fix that smh