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omgeto · 8 months

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☆ I WANNA BE YOURS — GOJO SATORU

summary: your best friend was used to picking up the pieces of all your heartache. and he's been idly waiting for the day that he could have you all to himself — but when he you give him a chance just for you to snatch it away you realise you might just loose more than his heart.

w/c: 3.3k

cw: afab!reader angst to fluff, you break his heart and put it back together again by giving him a great big blowjob so mdni! also unprotected sex (its more like making love if you ask me)

an: I actually really fw this fic. id say it was my best one yet so give it a chance people, just like how you should give gojo a chance. since he's actually super loveable here. hope you enjoy!

gojo satoru was hopelessly in love with you, and everyone seemed to know that, but you. he was your best friend, someone that you relied on, depended on, its been that way since you were kids. ‘she’d never see me that way,’ he’d whine to all his friends about you, whenever they’d see you together, holding hands, cuddling, but still proclaiming the title as ‘just friends.’

you were currently crying in his arms, as he consoled you, caressing your back. gojo was used to this routine by now – you’d get a boyfriend, they’d break your heart, and he was left to pick up the pieces. “i just don’t get how this one failed, i thought i was doing everything right,” you mumble, your voice breaking as you sniffle against his chest.

“they just don’t appreciate how great you truly are,” he comforts you, a silent “i do though,’ left unsaid, as he stares down at your tear stained face.

“satoru?” you ask, pulling slightly away from him, “i'm pretty, right?”

“don’t even ask me that shit,” he scoffed, “you already know the answer.”

“just answer.” you did know what his answer would be already, but you just had to hear it, “i just need to know why all my relationships end.”

“listen to me,” he demands, tenderly holding your face in both of his hands, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you, “you're beautiful. you always have been, and it's not even just your looks, it’s your whole being, everything about you. there’s nothing wrong with you, you just have a terrible taste in guys,” he finishes with a goofy smile trying to lighten the mood.

“yeah, maybe you're right,” you reply with a soft sigh, your gaze dropping to avoid his intense stare. It was both comforting and unnerving how he could always see through your insecurities.

“i don't say things i don't mean, you know that.” he tilts your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his eyes once again. “anyways we should prob–”

you press your lips against him, interrupting his sentence, and he eases into it, his lips moving against yours with no hesitation. but you pull away as quickly as you kiss him, your eyes widening as you realise what you’ve done. “shit im sorry satoru, i didn’t mean that.”

the air around you seems to shift, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the unexpected moment. you can feel your cheeks flushing, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. his fingers brush against your jaw, gently guiding your gaze back to his. the intensity in his eyes is undeniable, a silent acknowledgment of the shared feelings that had been hovering beneath the surface for so long.

"fuck that," he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. he closes the gap between you again, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

the softness of your lips against his is a sensation he’s dreamt of, and now that it's happening, it's even more intoxicating than he imagined. his hands cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss.

his lips move against yours with a skilled finesse, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady mixture that leaves you breathless. your fingers find their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands as you pull him closer, your bodies pressed together.

“satoru, i need you.” you tug against the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his. you were desperate, craving his touch, “need you to make me feel better.”

gojo took your words seriously, aiming to make you forget about all the heartache you’ve ever felt with those other guys, and focus only on him. he lays you down on the couch, unbuttoning your shirt, pulling your tits out of your bra.

“don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of you,” he mutters, pressing kisses into your cleavage, until his lips eventually circle your nipple, suckling and pulling at it. you gasp slightly at the feeling of his tongue swirling on your tits. your hands go back into his hair, roaming through his scalp, tugging hard as he bites down on your nipple.

his mouth remains on you, his hand trailing down into your underwear, rubbing circles on your clit. you whimper at the contact, feeling yourself getting wetter as his fingers enter you, he starts off slow pushing his digits in you gently.

“is this okay?” he asks, he wanted to make sure you felt good, that was his priority. he grins as you nod, too caught up in your pleasure to verbally respond. his quickens his pace, gyrating his fingers into you, pressing another searing kiss on your mouth.

you were dripping over his digits, as they pistoned in and out of you, but your hands reach out to his belt as you moan out, “‘toru i wanna feel you.”

“you wanna feel me huh?” he teases, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his hardened dick and strokes it a few times before rubbing it down your wet slit – teasing you with just his tip.

“c-c’mon,” you whine, grinding your hips down against him. he smirks at your excitement, forcing his dick inside you, your eyes widen as your pussy stretches and gojo can only bite down on his lips as you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” his eyes stay fixed on you, he loves you like this – pinned under him, clawing at his back, your mouth parting at the pleasure that he’s giving to you.

your legs wrap around his hips as he sinks into you further, you could feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear, “you’re perfect, this is perfect.” he sucks on your collar bone, kissing and biting as he continues to thrust into you.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much.”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name.

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, scratching at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“toru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, thrusting into you a few more times before you both reach your peak. and just before he’s about to release into you, his whispers a barely audible “i love you” right in your ear. he sprays your walls and you cum all over him, mixing in with him. he slumps down on you, pressing his forehead against yours, his dick remaining in you as he catches his breath.

as you finally disentangle your bodies, gojo reclines on the couch, a blissful smile gracing his lips. his breathing gradually transforms into gentle sighs, a sure sign that he has succumbed to sleep. you weren’t oblivious to his feelings towards you – the way his gaze would linger a little too long, how his hugs would be tight and comforting. he was in love with you – and you didn’t know how to deal with that.

all of your relationships never lasted, they always had an issue with something you did. you ruined them. and you didn’t want to ruin gojo, you’ve been together since you were children and he’s always been so good to you. you couldn’t bear the thought of causing gojo pain.

your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you turn away, your mind racing with a storm of thoughts. you've been friends for so long, and the prospect of losing that connection is heartbreaking. but you also can't ignore the truth that's been staring you in the face – gojo's feelings have crossed the line from friendship to something deeper.

as you quietly gather your clothes, your heart aches with conflicting emotions. you've always been there for each other, and the thought of hurting him tears at your very core. with a heavy sigh, you dress in silence, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

“you’re really just gonna leave?” he calls out behind you as you head to the door, your hand frozen on the handle.

“satoru,” you gasp, turning to face him guiltily, “i thought you were asleep.”

“you were actually just gonna leave?” he accuses further, ignoring your comments, “after this, after what we just did?”

“this doesn’t change anything,” you say shaking your head with your eyes closed, you couldn’t see his face.

“it doesn’t change anything?” he scoffs, standing up, walking over to you, “how can you say that? after i've given you my all, literally everything i can offer to you, and that still isn’t enough.”

"i was scared, toru," you ramble, the truth spilling out of you, your voice catching as you admit your own fear. he was upset, this was the last thing you wanted, him looking at you, his eyes pleading for you to choose him,"i've seen how my past relationships have crumbled, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."

his gaze softens for a moment, his fingers itching to reach out to you. "but things can just go back to the way they were with us," you continue, your words wavering, unsure if they're just a desperate attempt to keep things safe and familiar.

“i think we both know they can’t,” he says bitterly, his hand clenches at his side, “just answer this. why was it never me?”

“i’d ruin you,” you explain, your hand reaching out towards his, a soft smile on your face, “you’ve seen how i am with all those other guys. you’re too good for me.”

"no, I'm not good enough for you," he concludes, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness. he takes a step back, his expression conflicted, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

with your eyes brimming with unshed tears, you watch as he rushes past you, his departure leaving an ache in your chest. "you stay, I need to clear my head," he mutters, his voice strained, and then he's gone, leaving you standing there, torn between your fears and the feelings you've been trying to deny.

as gojo stormed out of the apartment, his emotions were a tangled mess within him. the mixture of frustration, hurt, and longing had him feeling like he was caught in a whirlwind. he couldn't believe how everything had escalated so quickly, how he had allowed himself to be vulnerable, only to feel tossed aside.

“suguru, i fucked up,” he cries into the phone to his best friend, his voice laden with distress, “i fucked up so bad.”

“satoru, calm down,” geto tries to soothe him, his tone steady, “what exactly did you do?”

“I fucked her,” he forces the words out, a mixture of regret and frustration in his voice, and he could sense geto wince on the other end of the line, “she kissed me, and i fucked her.”

"that's a good thing, isn't it?" geto's voice holds a note of confusion.

gojo's sigh came through the phone, heavy with a sense of defeat. "bro, she doesn't love me back," he practically wails, the weight of his realisation crashing over him, "she doesn't love me back. i got too greedy, she gave me an inch and i took it too far.”

"are you sure?" geto inquires, his tone thoughtful, "she wouldn’t have agreed to have sex with you if she wasn’t feeling something. i've seen you two together, i've seen how she looks at you. she loves you."

"if only it were that simple," gojo mutters, frustration lacing his words. "she said it doesn't change anything between us. that it was just a moment of weakness."

there was a pause on the line, geto processing gojo's words. "look, satoru, I know it's not easy, but maybe she's just scared. she literally just got out of a break up too, she’s probably just overwhelmed."

"but what if I've ruined everything?" gojo's voice was laced with uncertainty. "what if I've made things worse?"

"you won't know unless you talk to her," geto advises, his voice gentle yet firm. "honesty is the best way to navigate this situation. tell her how you feel, listen to what she has to say, and go from there."

gojo sighs, his tension slowly easing as he absorbs his friend's words. "you're right. i need to face this head-on."

"good, this whole ‘will they? won’t they?’ schtick that you two have going on, has gotten old. very old.” geto finishes, abruptly ending the call.

gojo takes a deep breath, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. he knew he had to confront the situation, to lay his feelings on the line and hope for the best. with a newfound resolve, he gathers his thoughts and prepares to have the difficult conversation that lay ahead.

“you came back,” is the first thing you say, when gojo enters the apartment. you couldn’t gauge his mood, his expression was off, and you didn’t want to upset him further.

“well it is my apartment after all,” he spits out a bit too coldly, his words laced with tension. however, his face softens as he takes a step toward you, the coldness melting away,, “besides i didn’t go far, just outside.”

you nod in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. your uncertainty making it hard to find the right words. the atmosphere is tense, and you're acutely aware of the weight of the situation between you.

"i had some time to think," gojo starts, his voice softer now, "and i realised that running away from this won't solve anything."

his words draw your attention, and you meet his gaze, searching for any clues in his eyes. "satoru, I'm sorry about what happened earlier. i shouldn't have acted on my emotions like that."

“it’s ok i-”

“no it’s not okay,” you insist, stepping towards him grabbing his hand, “i never should of acted that way, disregarding like you’re nothing. i was wrong.” you had time to think after gojo left, and you knew you were being unreasonable. there was a guy who was ready to love you, give you his all, and you were just going to throw him away without a chance.

he weight of your words hangs between you both, the air thick with the shared acknowledgement of your mistakes. and as the intensity of the moment settles, a newfound sense of clarity takes hold – the understanding that your feelings for each other can't be ignored, no matter how much you try to suppress them.

“you really fucked w my feelings y’know,” gojo’s words hang in the air, heavy with hurt. his eyes bore into yours, his emotions laid bare.

“i know,” you reply softly, your voice laced with regret, “and i’m so sorry toru. i never meant to hurt you like that. i was scared, and i didn’t know how to handle my own feelings so i lashed out.”

gojo's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "you were scared? of what?"

"of losing you," you admit, your voice quivering slightly as you reveal your deepest fear. "you mean so much to me. you're my best friend, and I was afraid that if we crossed that line, it would ruin everything we have."

a mixture of emotions passes over gojo's face – surprise, realisation, and something else, something that you can't quite pinpoint. "you think being with me would ruin our friendship?" he asks, slightly offended.

you shake your head, your eyes locking onto his. "no, that's not what I meant. I just... I've seen how my past relationships ended, and i didn't want the same thing to happen with us. i didn't want to hurt you or lose what we have."

“i love you.” he declares simply, “that’s all that matters.” you couldn’t even respond because he was right, nothing else mattered. he places a gentle kiss to your forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“let me make me it up to you,” you whisper, looking up at him bashfully through your eyelashes, “let me show you how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but he pauses, taking a sharp inhale as your hands slip into his jeans. you peck his lips before working his way down to your knees. you take his dick out, licking your lips as you stroke him, massaging his dick. you pepper kisses all over the tip, still keeping your eyes trained on him.

“c’mon don’t be a tease,” he whines as you focus on his tip, sliding your tongue around it as you continue to pump his dick with your hands.

you take him into your mouth, its warm and wet as you suck him in. you move your hands to cup his balls with a firm grip, massaging them as you continue to twist your mouth on his dick. you can hear him lightly cursing, drying his best to moan out at the pleasure you’re giving him. but you were determined to get him to cry out your name.

he was loving the sight of you, mouth stuffed, slobbering all over him. you were sloppy, just how he liked it, using your saliva and his precum to glide your mouth over and over his dick.

“f-fuck,” he stammers, biting down on his fist, he usually last way longer than this. but the difference is you, he would’ve never had imagined that there’d be a day you’d be on your knees all pretty, swallowing his dick. but now that you are, he wanted to burst.

you could tell that he was close, so you jut your head faster, using your hands to pump what your mouth can’t cover. he thrust into your mouth, aiding you in reaching his climax, forcing his dick deeper into your inviting mouth.

“you’re mouths t-too good, it’s–” his hands rest on your head as he releases into your mouth. you swallow all of him, licking your lips, satisfied.

“now toru,” you coo, with a smirk standing up to face him, “can you see how much i love you now?”

the rest of the night was spent just like many others you had shared together over the years, wrapped in each other’s arms in the comfort of his bed. this time, however, it wasn’t masked under the guise of friendship, you now exchange kisses with ‘i love you’ said in between each one.

AN: and that is all folks, TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS I actually dislike the friends to lovers trope, not gojos biggest fan, and I hate sucking dick BUT I LOVE IT ALL HERE. HE'S ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY SWEET, AND DONT U JUST WANT A GUY THATS DOWN TO JUST LOVE YOU! DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE.

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut

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fairyhaos · 3 months

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how seventeen make the shot after saying "this one's for you"

requested by anon! im actually terrible at basketball so even if none of them made the shot then id be impressed at them for trying lmaoo. also chan is in 2 bc i think he fits both!

masterlist

seungcheol, hoshi, mingyu

makes the shot, is endlessly pleased with himself. will not shut up about it. it's going to be the story he tells during nights out with the others for the next five weeks straight. he's so genuinely delighted and he's all “did you see that? you saw that right? it's because i did it for you babe that's why it went in—” pls give this man a pat on the head and tell him that he did well bc otherwise there's a chance he'll keep pestering you until you compliment him. no but in all honesty, it really is quite sweet how excited he gets about it, and it does make you feel all kinds of loved.

jeonghan, minghao

makes the shot, and looks at you all weird when you're genuinely surprised. he knows how to handle a ball, okay? why are you so shocked? is the teensiest bit pleased on the inside though bc your reaction genuinely helped fuel his ego hugely. takes about 5 more shots in a row and is now grinning a little bc the wowed expression on your face does not fade. he has to eventually stop because he is starting to get a little embarrassed at how genuinely impressed you are.

joshua, junhui, dokyeom

doesn't make it, but he's so adorably embarrassed that it has you collapsing into a laugh and automatically going over to him to squish his cheeks, endeared. there's that tense moment where you think the ball is gonna go through the hoop, but when it ends up just bouncing off the side and shooting far away to somewhere else, he's turning away in embarrassment and you're grinning and reaching over to hug him and coo that it's okay because he made the shot into your heart long ago, and that's a shot that he definitely did not miss

woozi, seungkwan, (chan)

isn't able to make the shot right up until you finally drag him out of the court. he's normally good at this, but he swears that it's bc of the pressure he put on himself by declaring that he's gonna do it. woozi doesn't make it bc he gave up after three times. seungkwan doesn't make it bc he keeps talking between every shot and eventually you laugh and drag him home. chan tries his best, but apparently the ball must have had an argument with the hoop or smth bc it just refuses to go in and it's definitely not his fault

wonwoo, vernon, (chan)

either misses the hoop by miles or makes the shot and then gets all surprised at his own abilities. “holy shit did you see that? i'm basically a basketball god now. woozi can be the god of music and ill be the god of basketball” he is not basically a basketball god, but it was a good shot, and you laugh at how proud he is for making it as he gestures to the hoop and re-commentates the entire act for you like you weren't watching him the whole time. his reward for successfully wowing you is head pats and the promise of whatever ice cream he wants once you finally leave the court and go home.

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reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @hanniehaee @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @jeonghanfr

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tgcg · 4 months

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ill break your shit adam

warning for adult lang

fuck you adam sandler

youre lucky karkat likes you

stupid fuck sees an amnesiac girl

and asks her can i marry you

that lady got issues mentally

you still down to do shit anally

deplorable zit on the ass of romanza

karkat told me to put that shit in this stanza

do raps even count as having stanzas

slam poetry tyke at preschool im no manza

youd probably jack it to a log with holes if they were wet ones

sitting on that stupid dock with her papa cracking cold ones

piece of shit id push you off that dock and watch you bubbling

kick your ass like her shitty bro failed when you were troubling

penguins dont quack like fucking ducks you dumbass

thats not part of the rap i just think that youre a dumbass

back to the rap sandler i bet you couldnt drop a single bar

too busy picking up stupid women at the stupid women bar

who even let you into hawaii

also did i say karkat liked you i was kidding he wants to kick your heinie

seriously watching that shit again made him start slamming his head into the cushions and screaming i had to pry them out his hands and he almost bit me

sorry i forgot i was rapping again

piece of shit forgot that you can like women while dating other men

still not over that chuck and larry shit adam

if you just said to the gov you were bi you coulda had em

firefighter of the year? well try putting out this heat

karkats gonna beat your ass like you do every night to your meat

gotta ask is this shit wish fulfilment for you

gotta say larry deserved better than you

i could treat him way better than you not in a gay way though

i just mean youre a massive sleaze basically the worlds shittiest bro

back to 50 first dates man sandler your shit is a bore

the stupid bits with schneider got my ass addicted to snore

if i was that stupid walrus id tear your ass to shreds

if i was that penguin i would also tear your ass to shreds

itd be harder but id still do it

bro fuck adam sandler im through it

===

TT: Wow. Bravo, Dave. You've outdone yourself.

TG: i wrote this one exceptionally fucking terrible to represent my inner darkness

TG: i can never unwatch those cinematic fossilized turds theyre like time capsules devoted to everything wrong with america

TG: you dont even understand how egregious that was

TT: I can sense the utter malaise and contempt in every word. It's beautiful.

TT: One particularly interesting point I'd like to make is the fact that you managed to refer to butts in a song about a male target, 10 times in the span of 37 lines. It's not an exorbitant amount, but it appears to be a running theme in your works. Very interesting, if you ask me --

TG: nooooo

TG: nope no

TG: not this shit again

TG: listen one of them is karkats fault

===

CG: ROSE, YOU JUST DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT HE'S DOING HERE AT ALL.

TT: No? Please, enlighten me Karkat.

CG: GLADLY.

CG: HE STARTS OUT WITH THE FRIGGIN WORD "ANAL" PRECEDING ALL OF THE OTHER MENTIONS, OF COURSE IT'S ON PURPOSE. IT INSTILLS THAT IMAGERY IN YOUR NUGBONE THROUGHOUT THE TRACK.

CG: AND YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED A RECURRING USE OF THE WORD "SHIT", IN TANDEM. BOG-STANDARD FOR DAVE, RIGHT? NO! IT'S PART OF THE EFFECT!

CG: MY THESIS: ADAM SANDLER MOVIES ARE PIECES OF ABSOLUTE SHIT AND THE REFERENCES TO WORDS LIKE "LOG" AND "SHIT" AND "ASS" ARE TO INVOKE THE SENSE OF TAKING A MASSIVE DUMP THROUGHOUT THE SPAN OF THE RAP, WHICH BY ALL MEANS WOULD BE AN EQUAL OR GREATER USE OF YOUR TIME THAN WATCHING THOSE MOVIES.

CG: RIGHT, DAVE?

TG: … yeah

TT: Okay, I'm willing to concede to that. On this subject matter, as an avid terrible movie enjoyer, you admittedly know better than myself.

CG: SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

TT: And you love them anyways.

CG: YEAH.

TG: hes right

TG: you hear that shit hes right

TG: fuck death of the author im verifying that interpretation

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #rose lalonde #homestuck #made with instrumentals of ether by nas in mind #posting early bc im impatient #comix

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zepskies · 8 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!! 🥳❤️‍🔥 You guys really warmed my heart with all the excitement for this story. I'm very happy to bring you the first chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Warnings: Tense situations, brief mention of claustrophobia, and a good old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1: "Class and Style"

Come on, come on, come on!

The toe of your heeled foot tapped on the floor as you, once again, waited for the elevator to make its slow climb back up to the 22nd floor.

In your hand was a tray carrying two steaming lattes: one small, plain hazelnut, and the other a venti caramel frappe with all the sugary bells and whistles. Complete with extra whipped cream, because your boss was a goddamn child.

I shouldn’t even be getting his coffee, you thought sourly. This is his assistant’s job!

And if this elevator didn’t climb any faster, having to stop at Starbucks during your meager lunch break for your boss’s morning fix would make you late for a very important sales meeting.

“Let’s go, Betsy. Come on,” you muttered. “You can do it.”

Yes, you’d named the contraption that usually managed to carry you all the way to your correct floor. When she wasn’t broken down for maintenance.

The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.

But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.

You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.

Shit!

You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…

The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.

“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.

Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.

But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…

“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You shouted for help.

You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.

You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.

Maybe no one could hear you.

“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.

You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.

But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Fire Department.”

“Oh, God. Yes!”

With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.

“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.

“How soon is soon?” you asked.

“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”

Jesus Christ.

You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.

Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.

Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?

Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.

“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”

You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.

“Hello?!”

“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”

“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”

“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”

You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.

Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.

He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.

“There you are,” he greeted.

You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.

“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

You gave it to him as you took the harness.

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”

You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”

It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.

“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.

“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”

You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.

Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air.

“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”

“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).

“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.

His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.

“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”

He leaned in further so you could reach him.

…And damn it, you believed him.

Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.

“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.

You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.

“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.

“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.

Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!

You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”

He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.

“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.

But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.

You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.

Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…

You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.

A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.

“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.

You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”

“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”

Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.

You were livid.

But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.

“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.

“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”

You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.

Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.

“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse.

You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.

He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.

Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.

He could admit, you had both class and style.

“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.

Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.

“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”

You shot him an amused look.

“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”

George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”

Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.

Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.

“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”

George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.

“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”

George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.

“Just something caught in my throat.”

“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.

You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.

“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.

“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”

A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.

“A bar fight would make me more productive?”

George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”

You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.

For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.

“You should get that, huh?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.

“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.

“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.

Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.

As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman.

“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.

“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”

You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.

“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”

And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.

Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.

Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.

You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.

It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…

“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”

You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.

“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”

“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”

You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”

Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)

“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”

You became more contemplative then.

Bake something, huh?

Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…

And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.

You smiled.

“Okay. I think we have a plan.” However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”

“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”

“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.

“His name was Dean.”

AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?

Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.

And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.

Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂

...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)

Anywho...

Next Time:

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Due to Tumblr's dumb 50-only tag rule, I'm tagging the rest of you in a reblog. 😘

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Class and Style #Smoke Eater #Part 1 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester AU #firefighter AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

Text

part five of "clone danny"

Danny returns home later that night with a dislocated shoulder from Skulker and his fair share of scrapes and bruises after facing off with a handful of ectoplasmic animal shades. (All of them stuffed inside his thermos with Skulker that he'll toss in the Zone tomorrow after school.)

He shoves his mask back into his pocket, and hides his bat in the bushes at the side of his house under his window, then rounds back around the front to go through the door.

...Mainly because if Bruce Wayne was still awake, it'd be suspicious if Danny made it home without ever using the front door. He sneaks back in, and slooowly starts closing the door.

"You're back late." Says a surly, young voice that startles Danny into slamming the door instead.

"Fucking--!" He cuts himself and breathes in slowly, trying to slow his elevated heart rate before looking over his shoulder to see who the hell scared him.

Glaring at him like an upset parent would, with eyes cutting like sea glass, is Wayne the Sequel... or perhaps he was the seventh sequel. Danny is silent for a moment. "...You're up early." He says, maybe a bit petulant. "Does your dad know you're up this late?"

"Father permitted me to stay up and wait for your return, actually." Damian sniffs, and if anyone could make 'scowling' into a vocal tone, Danny would have thought it'd be Sam. But Damian beat her to it.

Danny turns around slowly to face him, arms crossing. "Yeah, uh-huh." He nods slowly, "Like I'm gonna believe that. Do you normally sit in a random stranger's kitchen and interrogate them when they get home?" He tilts his head for good measure.

"No." Damian says. (He is, in fact, lying.) His eyes narrow at Danny as if he had committed a terrible crime by being in his presence. He looks down to Danny's hands. "Father said you left with a bat. Where is it?"

"I lost it." Danny replies, biting the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

"You... lost it?"

"Yup." He says blandly. "Whoops."

-------

Danny goes up to his room immediately after that and collapses on his mattress to pass out for the next three hours until his alarm goes off.

Much to Danny's luck, Bruce and his son are literally only there for a few days, and he spends as much time during it to avoid them like a plague (while also dealing with his dislocated shoulder, which should reliably heal in half the time thanks to his ectocontamination). Damian does whatever during the day since he doesn't go to Casper High.

Something to note as we get out of the 'fic'-y part of this post -- Daniel J. Fenton was, largely, the sexual awakening to many people in his grade in Casper High School, including many A-Listers. However he is still "Daniel Fenton" so many of his classmates will take that fact to their grave. And to their personal friend groups.

Does this have any impact going forward? Not really so far, no.

Dodging a Wayne-sized bullet doesn't mean that Danny can dodge the Wes-sized bullet, and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with an irate Wes Weston who demands to know where he was last nice.

Of which Danny, not needing to drop his smartass comments in front of the guy who already knows his ID, responds by calling him a jealous ex and sidestepping him completely. following up with if Wes isn't careful, then Danny might just think that Wes has a crush on him

(Wes does, in fact, have a crush on Daniel J. Fenton. He will take this secret to his grave.)

Ellie shows up in his kitchen, sitting on the table with her legs crossed while chatting amiably with Bruce Wayne a few days later when Danny returns from school. When Danny asks how she got inside (the door is typically locked), Ellie smiles toothily and fangily, and happily tells him that she came in through the window. And that he needs to tell his parents to invest in locks. She has long hair the same length as him. It's like looking into a mirror, one he is welcome to see into.

It is endearingly Ellie-like to know that she all but broke into his house, and seeing his sister-clone-twin relieves some of his tension. Only a little though when Bruce Wayne was still in his house.

Normally he sits and talks for hours with Ellie. But instead he takes it to the stairs, telling Ellie that he'll be in his room when she's done talking to Mister Wayne. He is a stubborn ass who doesn't even bother to ask where Wayne the Sevquel is.

(He runs into Wayne a one or two more times the following nights. Wayne asks him where his bat is on the second night, his son says he lost it. Danny agrees with him, and Wayne asks with a touch of concern what he'll do if he comes across a ghost.)

(Danny shrugs and says he hasn't before. And comes back home with a bruise the size of a large cat on his hip and a couple more along his torso and legs. his knees hurt from rough jumps with poor landings. Damian is waiting when he gets home. They exchange a few barbs and Danny hightails it up to his room.)

(Danny's face is obscured by the lack of lights and the shadows in the corner. Its the only reason he feels even a modicum of comfort in exchanging a few words with Wayne.)

(Ellie is waiting outside for him the day she meets Wayne, and asks him if Wayne knows. Danny says he wouldn't be avoiding him if he did. Wayne probably wouldn't be as nice as he was now if he knew.)

("You don't know he won't be nice after finding out." Ellie points out while he's digging his bat out from the neighbor's bushes this time.)

("He's not me, Ell." He says, frowning. "We don't know that.")

(Ellie sighs sadly, and Danny feels a tinge of guilt. "You can tell him if you want," he offers, "you don't have to hold back on my behalf.")

("I want to tell him with you, though. C'mon, we're twins.")

(That night Danny avoids breaking his other arm after a run in with a large ecto-serpent. Ellie nearly rips out its tongue for it. She's more ghost-like than he is. Possessive and violent and very, very passionate. As if he wouldn't do the same if pressed.)

(Ellie gives Danny a piggyback ride home, the wind filtering through the grills of his mask and force-feeding him the taste of freedom. Damian is there while they sneak back in, stifling their laughter under the meat of their palms.)

(Danny may or may not have reached out and ruffled his hair in his joviality when he passed him by. Grinning painfully when Damian bats at his hand like a disgruntled kitten. His hair feels like feathers and the sensation sinks itself deep into Danny's star-in-the-sky sized core-obsession like a suggestion.)

(He might regret it in the morning. It will fade in time after the Waynes leave.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #danny phantom au #dpxdc #dp crossover #no funny tags rn folx #masterpost when #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton #ellie having the scary dog privileges is top tier choice on my part personally

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felixdragonheartofficial · 3 months

Text

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

#tfa #decepticons #autobots #tfa headcanons #tfa optimus prime #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #AUUUUUUGH #im gonna have a pole #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa sari #sari sumdac #sari mention

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cripplecharacters · 4 months

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hello! so, i currently have an oc in the works. i dont have much for his character yet, and hes kind of a blank slate at the moment, however, whilst trying to develop him i had the idea to give him a disability; its something i dont do with my characters very often, and i feel like it could give some depth and realism to his character. however, i..... dont know where to really start with it? i have the vague idea that i think id like him to have crutches, so some sort of leg disability, but just going off that its been hard for me to find any condition that feels quite right. im unsure about making him an amputee either; seemingly the "go to" for anyone who wants to make a physically disabled character. i want to try and represent a disability thats less fetishized by the general public, and looking through this blog here its definitely apparent that a lot of people are tired of seeing basic half amputee characters with overly functional prosthetics; i wanna avoid that. sorry this has gotten a bit rambly, but basically what im asking is,, do you have advice for what i could use as just. a general starting point in this? im terribly uneducated and lost at the moment and id love some help. thank you :]

Hi!

It's great that you're interested in writing a disabled character (with care)! I'm always happy to see more writers/artists/creatives do that.

You mentioned wanting to give him crutches, which is cool! Mobility aid users in media make me happy. However, you mentioned crutches as meaning a leg disability, which isn't always the case — and while I don't have statistics on it, I believe that most crutch users do not use them for leg-only problems, and a lot of them have the not-so-fetishized conditions. Here are some suggestions of what you could give your character, which hopefully gives you some ideas. If you need, you can get back to us with a more specific question after you figure out what exactly your character has! :-) (smile)

Cerebral palsy — probably the most common reason for using crutches in non-elderly people, and the most common (physical) disability in younger people in general. If your character has diplegic (meaning lower limbs affected) CP, he could use crutches and if he has hemiplegic (one arm and one leg affected) CP, then he could use a single crutch or a cane. Cerebral palsy is generally extremely underrepresented when compared to how many people have it IRL! Just be aware that there is a lot of research involved just about the condition itself — multiple types (spastic/ataxic/dyskinetic), different kinds of body involvement, tons of different mobility aids and orthotics to learn about. There is also hereditary spastic paraplegia, which is not the same as CP but similar and progressive.

Spinal cord injury — the general assumption is that all people with spinal cord injuries are fully paralyzed below the neck or waist, and that's not the case. If your character has an incomplete SCI on any level or just a very low level injury, he could be using crutches or switch between a wheelchair and crutches. It's essential to research SCIs to have them be more than “legs don't work, but that's literally it”. SCI can come with severe nerve pain, spasticity, atrophy, and a lot of other things. Worth noting that spinal cord injury could be traumatic, but could also be congenital (spina bifida) or illness related (polio, transverse myelitis, spinal stroke, or cancer, for example). You could think that it's overrepresented in media, but SCI is generally just used as a “default condition” for why a character is in a wheelchair, and a lot of these representations are unfortunately very shallow.

Paralysis — in the monoplegic sense here. Much more rare than the rest of the things here, but your character could have a single paralyzed leg, largely due to nerve damage. Could be traumatic or illness-related (e.g., cancer, infection, or multiple sclerosis).

Stroke (and other traumatic/acquired brain injuries) — stroke can cause a million different symptoms and depending on what happens to your character exactly, he might need crutches! A big portion of stroke survivors deal with hemiplegia and could use a crutch on their non-affected side, for example. Some kinds of stroke might cause your character to have troubles with balance and require a mobility aid to not fall. Of course stroke will also cause other symptoms for your character (it wouldn't be too realistic to only have him have problems with his legs) for example speech issues, headaches, or seizures. Stroke can happen to anyone, and it wouldn't be weird to have a younger character with it. Very common in real life but very rarely represented in fiction.

Limb difference — you can definitely write a character with a limb difference or an amputation without fetishizing it! The main concern with the fetishization is the concept of the robotic limb that works just as well as or even better than a meat leg, and thus the character is “fixed”. But your character could just… not use a prosthetic. A lot of congenital amputees, people with limb differences, or with high level (above knee) amputations might do that. He could also have a leg length difference, which could cause him to need crutches (for example, Morteza Mehrzad has one of his legs significantly shorter after a pelvic injury, and he uses crutches among other mobility aids).

Chronic pain — very broad category for too many specific conditions to count. Neuropathy in the legs and/or lower back could be a reason for using crutches, for example. Unhealed, or poorly healed past injuries. Arthritis in knees or hips. Hypermobility that makes him unsteady or dislocate joints. Pain in bones or muscles where he can't fully weight-bear.

Gait disorders — another broad category (sorry). Your character could have problems with his gait and need aids for that. It could be caused by dyspraxia (I have it), ataxia, progressive muscular dystrophy (there is a lot of different types), Parkinson's disease, or a lot of other things! Could also be injury related.

And of course you could have multiple characters that are disabled to make sure that there is some variety :)

I hope that the above list gave you some ideas for your character :-) (smile) if you have more questions, feel free to send another ask

mod Sasza

#anonymous #mod sasza #mobility aids #crutches #disabled character ideas #writing advice #writing disabled characters

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