#also I realized misha has no brows
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I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)
I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:
- the queer-baiting
- the bury your queers
- the undermining of Dean’s character arc
- the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure
- the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles
All of that bothers me tremendously.
But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.
***
This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)
But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.
I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?
Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.
***
A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).
One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.
Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)
Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.
But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.
And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.
I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:
There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.
Not ever.
I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.
Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.
That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.
***
Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.
And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.
There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.
A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).
B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).
C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).
D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).
But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.
Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.
All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.
But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)
Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.
***
Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.
And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.
Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.
That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.
But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.
All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.
So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.
***
Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:
1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)
2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)
3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings
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for the prompt: Dean calling Cas his friend even when they’re dating and Cas being confused
[read on ao3]
In a surprising turn of events that may or may not have been prompted by Sam telling them with a cheeky smile that he’s off to see Eileen, Dean and Cas end up having the bunker for themselves for the first time in weeks.
So when Dean wanders into the room he and Cas have been sharing since… Well, since whenever they finally got their shit together, he’s actually surprised to find Cas lying in bed wearing Dean’s sweats and one of his old ratty tee-shirts, so concentrated on the book he’s reading that his brows are furrowed.
It’s infuriating how good he looks. If Dean’s being honest, Castiel always looked like a goddamn model to him even with his ratty trenchcoat and bulky suit on, but ever since he’s started wearing clothes that actually fit him? Clothes that are almost exclusively Dean’s?
Count Dean in as perpetually blown away by his very own boyfriend’s appearance.
(Which in turn gives Sam a reason to run away every once in a while, to Dean’s greatest pleasure.)
“Really? We’ve got the house to ourselves and this is what you choose to do with our free time?” Dean chuckles as he drops on their bed.
Cas doesn’t make a single movement but Dean immediately goes for his warmth as he plasters himself against his side, finding “his” spot in the v-shape of his neck and breathing in. He drops a soft kiss where Castiel’s shoulder meets his neck, smiling when Cas lets out a silent little huff.
“Hey, sexy,” Cas finally says, eyes still on his book but one of his hand carding through the mess of Dean’s hair.
Dean lets out a hilarious huff, because everything about Cas using that phrase is hilarious at best, but Cas actually using this without even batting an eye is peak comedy.
“Hey, grumpy.”
That, at least, has the merit of pulling Cas off his book. He looks down at his boyfriend with the world’s most puzzled gaze Dean has seen in the past three decades, and it does nothing to stop another laugh from getting past the hunter’s lips.
“Why am I “grumpy” in this analogy?” Cas asks, sounding so dramatic that it sends Dean through another wave of laughter. “I’m actually in a very good mood.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you show how good of a mood you’re in, my friend?” Dean asks wiggling his eyebrows, already closing his eyes waiting for the kiss to come.
Which doesn’t come, and when Dean opens his eyes again he’s met with another one of Cas’ bewildered look. He pushes himself up on his elbow then, catching Cas’ gaze and losing himself in the baby blues he loves so much for a little while.
“What’s up with you?” he asks, this time with mild concern because Cas is acting strange now. “I’m just messing with you.”
“I just —,” Cas starts before he stops and looks away, and Dean can’t help but feel a surge of anxiety immediately rising up from his guts.
It’s still new, this thing between them, despite having been there for more than a decade. It’s still new because they’ve only allowed themselves to have it for a few months, and every day Dean has to pinch himself to assure that it’s real.
It’s not always easy.
It’s love and laughs, but it’s also fights and dirty laundry and bed unmade and pizza being shared at 3 am because your former angel of a boyfriend woke up wanting that half-eaten pepperoni special that you didn’t manage to finish earlier in front of yet another cowboy movie.
Dean has never felt this full. But it’s also anxiously waiting for your boyfriend to explain what’s wrong after you’ve made a stupid joke, and Dean kind of hates it right now.
He lets one of his hands wander under Cas’ shirt, fingertips tracing patterns on the skin of his chest.
“You can tell me, Cas.”
“You keep doing that,” Castiel finally says, meeting his eyes again, “Calling me your “friend”, but we have… sexual intercourse every day, sometimes several times a day, I don’t see how that still qualifies me as a “friend”. Do you have sex with all your friends?”
This time Dean can’t resist and literally burst out laughing. When he manages to get his composure back, Cas is still looking at him expectantly waiting for an explanation.
Dean kisses him instead.
It still feels a little bit unreal, being able to lie in bed doing nothing but share shallow kisses with a former angel of the lord. It also feels like riding an actual rainbow, and when Castiel’s arms finally wrap around him and pull him on top of him, Dean smiles wider into the kiss.
They’re allowed that, now. They’re allowed love and sex and all the in-betweens, and Dean loves the in-betweens.
“I only have sex with one of my friend, Cas,” Dean whispers against his boyfriend’s lips. “And it’s you, dumbass.”
“But I thought I was more than a friend?”
Dean sighs, trading another shallow and tender kiss before answering. “Well, here’s the thing, babe. If you aren’t friends with the person you’re in love with, there’s a potential issue here.”
Cas’ brows furrow again, and Dean smiles.
Good lord, he loves him so much that sometimes there’s an ache in his chest when he realizes.
“You’re my best friend. Which means I’m the luckiest guy alive because you’re also my boyfriend.”
Dean fits his lip on Castiel’s again, kissing him gently. Cas huffs into the kiss, still holding on to Dean but apparently still not convinced.
“I still don’t get it, Dean.”
“One doesn’t cancel the other. Actually, it strengthens it.
“But —,”
“Sweetheart, you’re my boyfriend and my best friend and my friend. You’re all of it. And I feel blessed for it.”
Cas finally smiles and there’s something twinkling in the warmth of his eyes as he finally leans in and kisses Dean, all tongue and teeth this time.
When they part, Dean is panting and there’s a cheeky smile spreading on Castiel’s lips.
“What was that for?” Dean asks.
Cas smiles as he drops back on his pillow, his hand behind his head. “Being your lover, your best friend, and your friend.”
“I’ll take that,” Dean smiles into another kiss.
For a little while that’s all there is, kisses and cuddles and sweet words whispered into each other’s mouth.
Until Cas, who apparently cannot let go of anything, chimes in again.
“Do I still need to be Grumpy in your analogy?”
Dean laughs against his lips, dragging his lips over the light stubble on the line of his jaw.
“Would you like it better if I called you Dopey?”
And if there’s anything the past decade taught Dean, it’s that being pressed into the mattress by a very sexy Cas not even 2 minutes after that usually means he did his job well enough.
So maybe switching from Grumpy to Dopey was the trick all along.
— taggy the taglist under the cut; as usual, ask to be added or removed! —
@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @dreamnovak • @leftistdean • @aelysianmuse • @cvsnovak • @xcaitlin-mayx • @bakerandcandlestikmaker • @itsalittlebitdarkinhere • @cursed-or-not • @feraladoration
@starrynightdeancas • @tearsofgrace • @galaxymysteryelephant • @50shadesofcockles • @celestialcastiel • @deano-cas • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @castiel-novak15 • @anotherdowneyfan1
@the-pinkglasses • @squintingg • @pluckydean • @dickspeightjrs • @winchester-novak • @fred-deeks-ben • @destielfactory • @mishathemoose • @definenormalifyoucan • @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff
@becky-srs • @jensenacklesruinedmylife • @dea-stiel • @gmos-winter-wonderland • @rai1002 • @leaveitalltohappenstance • @radiantdean • @writtenmemxries • @idaaeri • @mypersonalgoblincave
@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you • @longinghestia • @ecbeau • @cloud-dreamer • @updeans • @ideeparanoiche • @not-some-background-noise • @van-dynex • @castiels-handprint • @larissa-2675
@viovhenan • @inexhaustablesourceofmagic • @slipper007 • @queen-rowenas • @winchester-thedate • @seffersonjtarship • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner • @kittykatara22 • @galaxycastiel • @queer-things-do-happen-dean
@anelitefangirl • @destielle • @zindagidobara • @choruscas • @fluffiestlou • @shadowywerewolfqueen • @holmesemrys • @craftywitchywoman • @thefourthheadofcerberus • @trasherasswood
@festivemish • @vinylmendes • @organicpurplepants • @deancasology • @starlightcastiel • @saarahisabels • @starespressos • @lizbennettdarcy • @destiel-bitches • @somberbasket
@goblinwritergay • @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual • @sinnabonka • @profound-found-family • @blue--star • @blood-red-bliss • @neo-neo-neo • @tjfinnigan • @chocolatecakecas • @nguyenxtrang
@avidbkwrm • @castee-yel • @shelton-devers • @usually-its-just-subtext • @nursemasters • @write-nerdy-to-me• @faithcastiel • @one-more-offbeat-anthem • @supernaturallygay126
#idk what the fuck this is#I haven't had coffee yet#I'm sorry that happened? or glad? idk#I HOPE THIS SUITS YOU ANON#dumbass in love#destiel ficlet#jus writes#a tumblr prompts collection
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mercs when they get jealous. ~
Hello Can I request headcanons of the mercs and how they act when jealous? If you can’t do all of them, support class is okay
Jealousy headcanons for the mercs when they see their s/o getting hit on (like full on swinging their arm over their shoulder, all touchy) Welcome to the fandom :)
ohhhh i love to see my boys jealous! we love to see it. please enjoy! ❤️
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Scout:
he’s petulant about the whole thing. he’s childish to the core and doesn’t handle jealousy very well despite his constant confident attitude.
scout glares at the person angrily and tries to be intimidating by insulting them, but honestly, he looks like an angry puppy or a kid wanting their candy back, so the person doesn’t take him seriously.
whines about it loudly the whole day and literally doesn’t shut the fuck up. he’s super cranky, it’s almost irritable, and never admits he’s jealous until you push it out of him. honestly, just give the poor boy a kiss so he can calm the fuck down.
Soldier:
doesn’t like the feeling. will not deal with the feeling. gets to work right away with no hesitation to get rid of whatever is bothering him.
will call out the person, using such colorful language and terms you weren’t aware he knew about and you’d watch as he absolutely obliterated the person with just his words alone. it’s honestly more than enough to scare them off and he radiates with pride once they do.
if it weren’t for his s/o being around to stop him, jane would’ve gladly snapped the persons neck or absolutely tortured them with his yelling.
Pyro:
you’ve fucked up my guy, big time. i don’t know what you were thinking, but you obviously don’t value your life.
they don’t quite understand what’s happening at first but immediately picks up their s/o’s discomfort, quickly angering them. pyro deems them as a threat to their s/o and mumbles angrily while bringing a hatchet out, ready to cut the person limb by limb. no one is allowed to make their other half feel that way and they won’t let it happen.
the person will be running in no time due to pyros behavior and once they’re gone for sure, they turn around and embrace their s/o tightly with a happy squeal as if they didn’t just threaten someone moments ago. they also caress their hair comfortingly just in case the situation has affected them.
Demoman:
he’s really insecure initially so the whole thing just makes it a lot worse than it’s supposed to be. demo already has the mindset that he doesn’t deserve his other half and crumbles just seeing the scene play out in front of them.
if he’s drunk, he’ll just tell the person off with a glower and scare them away with insults or his usual, crazy behavior. if he’s sober, he’ll handle the situation a lot better, simply excusing you both from the person with a glare and scowl. he’ll keep a close eye on them just in case.
either way, he’ll become unusually clingy with his s/o, often latching onto them like he hasn’t seen them in years. demos already clingy as he is but once someone deems as a threat to take his s/o away, he’s basically all over his other half in hopes to get the message across to the person and to let his s/o know that he loves them more than anyone.
Heavy:
barely gets jealous because he trusts that his s/o will do the right thing, even when he’s not around. all in all, he just doesn’t trust the other person. following that, he will watch the other person if they try anything funny. that’s when he’ll step in.
will show signs of discomfort over jealousy, often just standing on the side, hoping his s/o will get the sign that he wants to leave. if they don’t, he’ll gently pull their hand and speak; “we must go.” even if they protest, he will pull them elsewhere.
he’s one of the mercs who handles his jealousy/discomfort maturely and takes his s/o somewhere private to speak about his feelings; “misha did not like the way they looked at (y/n).” once they comfort him, he will feel relieved and brush off the situation. he’s just really protective and wants to make sure that everyone knows they’re taken.
Medic:
part 2 of do you even value your life, my good man. this man will literally fucking saw you in half and steal your organs if you cross his line.
he’s quiet at first, observing the situation with the biggest scowl ever as the person speaks to his s/o so daringly. youd think he’s handling it well due to his calmness, but little do you know, he already has something planned. his s/o watches as the person turns white upon looking behind them and runs off with barely a goodbye, leaving them absolutely bewildered.
“what was that all about?” they questioned with a raised brow, staring at the person who continued to run off. medic chuckled and pushed his amputator back into his coat with a menacing smile. “i am not so sure myself, liebe.”
Sniper:
he doesn’t like jealousy and he definitely doesn’t know how to handle it well. doesnt tell his s/o he’s jealous and denies it even though it was deathly obvious. depending the intensity of the situation, he can handle it a little more maturely and some days, well..
if it’s a simpler situation, such as them just casually flirting with his s/o, he’ll just growl under his breath as he shoots sharp glares at the person. his glare becomes so aggressive that the person just ultimately feels uncomfortable and walks away to avoid his stare.
if they don’t walk away and decide to pull bold moves on his s/o, he’ll step in with an angered expression and shoo them away himself. “oi! scram, ya damn weasel! take your business elsewhere!” he’ll let out a string of curses as they run away, not realizing the position he put himself in. once he does realize his s/o chuckling at his behavior, he’ll blush furiously and deny the fact that he was jealous or just walk away, holding his s/o’s hand with his hat tilted down.
Engineer:
he’ll try to smile through it, not wanting to lose his cool in front his s/o and greet the person formally as their boyfriend. he’ll really emphasize it; “howdy, my name is dell. i see you’ve already met my lovely partner.”
but if they take it a notch too far, such as swinging an arm around their shoulder, his nice guy facade ultimately breaks and he won’t hesitate to show it, quietly threatening them; “now ya keep your filthy hands off my sweetheart or things are gonna get real ugly.”
if he does lose his cool somehow, he’ll drag his s/o elsewhere and apologize to them for his behavior and explain how he felt about the situation. he’ll make it up to them by bringing them to dinner or just simply spending time together.
Spy:
doesn’t show he is one bit and keeps himself composed during the whole ordeal. he’ll throw the occasional insult or comeback here and there with a scowl, but just watch on the sides for the most part.
sometimes he’ll become very affectionate whenever someone has their eye on them and makes sure that he sends the message that they’re definitely not available; a kiss on the neck, an occasional hug from behind, intertwined fingers is more than enough.
and if the person doesn’t get the message or outright chooses to disregard it? well, i hope they enjoy a knife dug deep into their back the next morning.
#team fortress 2#team fortress#tf2#team fortress 2 x reader#tf2 x reader#team fortresss 2 imagines#team fortress 2 scenarios#team fortresss 2 headcanons#tf2 headcanons#tf2 fanfiction#tf2 imagines#tf2 scenarios#tf2 soldier#tf2 heavy#tf2 scout#tf2 demo#tf2 pyro#tf2 demoman#tf2 sniper#tf2 engineer#tf2 engie#tf2 medic#tf2 spy#fluff
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Now that my hyperfixation on Supernatural has finally calmed down, I’m now stuck in between it and my longtime obsession with Transformers. I was thinking of faceclaims for Transformer holoforms (solid projects of a transformer as a human for non-tf people) and realized that Castiel reminds me a lot of TFP (Transformers: Prime) Optimus.
To me, they have a very similar facial structure. Deep set brow, hooded blue eyes, mouth almost permanently in a straight line. But it’s not only the looks that are similar, their personalities and mannerisms are alike as well. Both are self sacrificing, hold strongly to familial bonds, and were able to see past deception from those they trusted. Plus, Optimus also does that little knitted brow head tilt when he doesn’t understand something.
(Best example I could find floating around for OP, will definitely find a better suited one.)
I could go one for absolutely too long with why these two are so strikingly similar to me, but that’s probably for another post. Main point is, if anyone ever had to play a live action role of this version of OP as a human, it should be Misha. They are just too alike for me to say otherwise.
#spn#supernatural#spn family#castiel#misha collins#transformers#transformers prime#tfp#tfprime#optimus#optimus prime#tfp optimus prime#TFP optimus#castiel winchester#tene talks
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completely, perfectly, incandescently happy
803 words
also posted on ao3
despite reading the book in high school, I didn’t see Pride and Prejudice (2005) until last week and oh boy what a movie. as soon as Darcy walked into the ball with a scowl on his face, I was done for. ofc, it seems I can’t appreciate any media now without relating it back to destiel so please enjoy this piece of fluffy nonsense I came up with :)
Dean had already sworn Castiel to secrecy. Twice. The bunker was quiet because Sam and Jack were out running errands, which meant they didn’t have to worry about any witnesses. The Dean Cave door was shut and locked.
No one was ever going to know Dean Winchester willingly watched a chick flick romance movie, not if he could help it.
As soon as Sam’s car had left the garage, he and Castiel had retreated into the Dean Cave and put on the movie—but only after Dean put up the appropriate amount of resistance. In truth, he was kind of curious, and Castiel had wanted to see it, so he didn’t take much convincing.
Either way, against all odds, Pride and Prejudice was now playing on his TV.
Dean could lie and complain that the movie was just as sappy as he’d anticipated and that he’d been half-asleep since the opening credits… but he didn’t want to talk over the dialogue.
Okay, yes, he’d admit it, he was paying attention to the plot. And maybe—though he’d deny this to his dying day—just maybe, he was actually really enjoying the movie. He didn’t know how much of that had to do with the fact that both Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen were extremely attractive, but he was going to blame his feelings on their faces and not on the idea that maybe he didn’t hate romances as much as he pretended to.
They were nearing the end of the film now. Lizzie couldn’t sleep so she went for a walk outside, moping about Darcy. But who should be walking over but Darcy himself? Striding across the moors, coat blowing in the wind, music swelling, fog and everything—
“Fuck, he’s hot,” Dean found himself saying aloud. He was laying with his head in Castiel’s lap, and he felt Castiel’s fingers slow their movement through his hair. He looked up to see the slightest frown creasing Castiel’s brow. “Objectively, I mean,” he added.
Castiel smiled a little. “He is very attractive. Objectively.”
“That’s kind of what you did,” Dean said, looking back at the TV. Darcy was still walking towards Lizzie—how long did it fucking take to walk a few feet? Not that it wasn’t incredibly dramatic, hot, and, okay, fine, romantic. “When you first showed up in your vessel and walked into that barn.”
“Except Elizabeth has the decency to not to shoot at Darcy.”
“Okay, touché.”
Darcy had finally reached Lizzie’s side. Time for a sappy love confession. Dean was only half-listening, his mind still stuck on seeing Castiel for the first time. The way Castiel had approached him, looking at him with eyes bluer than anything, his hair tousled—or, Dean would say tousled, if he was in a romance movie. Holy fuck, was his life a chick flick romance? A grimy, violent, bloody one, but still.
“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” Darcy said, drawing Dean back to the present. Dean scoffed, because that line was sappy. Not because he needed to scoff for appearance’s sake and to hide the way his heart might be melting. Gross.
“I doubt my entrance was as “hot” as Darcy’s,” Castiel commented, lifting his hand to make air quotes.
“What?” Dean pulled his eyes from the screen where Lizzie and Darcy were staring at each other. Just kiss already, for fuck’s sake.
He realized Castiel was still talking about their first meeting on Earth. “Wait, are you kidding me?” He sat up to look at Castiel. “You had your trench coat billowing in the wind and everything. And you were staring me down the whole time, all serious and intense. Not to mention you flashed your wings and pulled a knife out of your chest.”
Castiel grinned. “It was very dramatic. But in my defense, I was trying to impress someone.”
“Oh, really?” Shifting, he draped a leg over Castiel’s, pressing their sides together.
Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Yes.”
“Who, Bobby?” he asked because he wanted to hear Castiel say it.
“No, someone else.” Lifting his hand, Castiel traced Dean’s jawline. “Someone a lot more attractive than Darcy.”
Dean rolled his eyes because he was essentially legally required to roll his eyes at anything sappy, even if he was fighting back a smile. “Well, you also scared me shitless, so good work with that.”
“But it was hot, correct?” Castiel pressed.
“Yeah, it was. Extremely.” And maybe this movie had cast a spell on him because he added, “You bewitched me, body and soul.”
“That’s very sappy,” Castiel said with a smile as he took Dean's hand and intertwined their fingers together.
Dean tugged him closer. “Don’t you dare ever tell anyone I said that.”
And they were kissing by the time Darcy and Lizzie had their first kiss.
Tag List:
@becky-srs @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @spnwaywardone @spooky-spooks-and-all-the-spooks @letsjustdieeveryone
Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other random destiel fics or removed from the list :)
#domestic fluff#dean and cas are saps#when lizzie said we're so similar we're both so stubborn#dean and cas felt that#spncreatorsdaily#shameless use of movie quotes#bisexual dean#expectingtoflywrites#pride and prejudice
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sticker fic:
brought to you by the sticker ficcers, @xojo and @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover.
the narrated version:
"Morning, Sunshine." Says Dean. "Some coffee?"
"SCREW YOU." Says Sam. His glorious hair is wet.
"How dare you!" Says Dean. His mouth's the O-shape of offense. He's also putting on the dead guy robe for some reason.
"BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!" Sam bitchfaces. In his eyes, is a glint which says, as he does - blah, blah, blah, blah. Then, he casts down his gaze. "Well, you are kinda butch."
Dean's eyes widen. His eyebrows don't rise. Instead of surprised, he looks shocked. Then he smirks, and quickly grows a stubble. With completely black eyes, he says. "I'm a demon."
Crowley appears, smirking. "Hello, boys."
"ASSBUTT." Castiel bellows.
No one had known he was there.
"What's wrong with you?" Says Crowley, after quickly growing a stubble as well.
Castiel folds his arms. It makes the trenchcoat look fitted. You know, like a liar.
"Are you okay?" Sam asks, tucking his hair behind his ear at supersonic speed. No one knows when it happened. But he's Sam Fucking Winchester, so they know it did.
"I don't know!" Dean scratches his ear. He does not know the question was for Castiel. He makes his eyes as sad as they can be - and they can be impressively sad. One eyebrow strays up, floating on a cloud of misery. "I never was."
Sam looks alarmed in a V-neck.
This is important information. Absolutely integral.
"Cat's out." Says Cas. He's rude, because his lips do a rude thing. And because of what he said. His eyes mock tragedy.
"Shut your face." Dean points. Pointing is rude. He does it anyway. While he does it, Sam grows bangs. "Oh god."
He lies down on the floor.
"Don't say that to me." Says Sam, with dimples of depression. He buries his face in his hands. Must feel pretty, the author conjectures.
"Come on." Dean says. He's frowning, and on a park bench. He looks closer with concentration and develops a double chin. Then he gels his hair really quickly and adds. "You look like a baby."
"SCREW YOU." Says Sam. His hair is wetter. His head is wet as well. Then he dries it with a whoosh no one notices, and looks away in disdain. He is in an open collared shirt. The author hopes you take note of these plot points carefully.
Dean shrieks.
Dean cries at a mirror.
Dean scowls, unimpressed. Ironically, his scowl is impressive. Moreover, it deages him.
Cas shrieks too. His eyes scream horrifiedness. His nostrils flare. You could see his molars, if you tried. The author tries.
Dean looks at a corner. "I don't even care anymore."
Charlie pokes her head out of a yellow car. Not enough is visible to be ugly, but readers are advised to assume it's ugly. "What's up bitches?" She's wearing a seatbelt. Gays are awesome.
"Kind of in the middle of something." Says Dean. His forehead has creases which have no right being pretty. They're pretty.
"I know. I was surprised too." Says Cas.
No one knows what he means.
Sam, suddenly lit in a green light, shows that he doesn't know what he means. He doesn't wait for an explanation, and raises his hand. "That's enough, uh yeah, thanks."
Sam is rude, beautifully.
The author is very helpful with pointing out plot points, as ever.
"You done?" Says Claire and her french braid.
Chuck is there now. He has an extremely white mug. It could have coffee inside. It could also have poison. The author does not identify as a journalist, and is not required to be unbiased.
"Do you have any bacon?" Says Chuck. He has curls. They hide the evil under.
"No." Jack says, blank faced for some reason. "You back off. Old man."
"Back off." Says Sam, in a slightly greater font size. One (1) lock of hair strays from his perfect mane, and falls on his face. It's still perfect, the author assures. Then Sam quickly gets shot, and his forehead pierced with metal rods. It's clearly for the vibe. Because Sam says, "I will destroy you." He does not say it periodlessly.
"Yeah. That's right." Says Jack. He pouts, because he's right. He can, because he's Jack.
Sam looks proud of him with a spotted blue tie and shiny, conditioned hair.
The author loves him very much.
part two, if you're the kind of person who wants it:
Rowena purses her lips, ending up with dimples of discontent.
"Balls!" Bobby cries out. Then he takes off his cap for some reason before adding, "Were you ever nice?"
"Shut up!" Dean yells over his shoulder. He fixes her with an offended stare - as if not shutting up would be offensive on her part.
"I hate to interrupt." Says Rowena, interrupting. "What the hell is this?" She looks appalled. Perhaps she's realized she just interrupted.
He's excellent at delivering backhanded insults like that. The author is proud of his newfound subtlety.
"Gun. Mouth. Now." Dean simply reaffirms Bobby's accusation - because he's awesome like that. "Shut your face." He also says, pointing at them all, to further illustrate his paternal figure's point.
Crowley plants his chin in his palm, and looks at the floor with an unreadable (the author swears she tried) glint in his eyes. "Kill me." Perhaps they're tears.
"Oh, they don't miss me." Cas lets out, matter-of-factly, as he sips from his teacup of coffee.
"I think this was just a minor misunderstanding." Sam steps in, and brings puppy bangs with him to solidify his statement.
The author tries and fails to survive staring at them.
Dean clicks his tongue, and manages to resemble a squirrel to a T. Or an S. Everyone's entitled to spell words differently, English is a weird language.
Sam looks at Dean, irritated. "Make it stop." He grits out, clenching his jaw. He's replaced the bangs with sideburns. They have more potential to seem irritated.
"Maybe." Cas pouts, inexplicably.
"What?" Dean sounds positively aghast - but it's toned down from the years of practise from being in the poetic kind of love with the only angel in the world for him - and thus, only shows up in his eyes.
"You don't understand." Cas picks up a salesboy by his collar. He's so whimsical, the author completely gets why Dean's head over heels for him. Cas keeps everyone - especially salesboys who don't get him pie - on their toes.
"You look like a baby." Dean informs him, all laugh-lines and dimples. "Okay, all right." He says next, gruff, trying to smoothen out the curve of seeming like a goner for Cas.
Cas shoots him a discouraging look. "Ouch." He bites his bottom lip, and closes his eyes - and everyone in a seven mile radius ends up pregnant.
True story.
Also, Narendra Modi shows up, namaste-ing the phenomena that is Cas.
"Shhhhit!" Cas squints. He knows a thing or two about horrible, prejudiced political leaders, from an alternate universe Cas's experiences.
"Oh god." Sam adds, regrowing bangs really quickly.
Modi whispers into his phone, eyes trepidly on everyone in the room, and a hand covering his mouth.
Dean stares, unimpressed. Or so it seems until he says, "You gotta teach me how to do that."
Modi shoots the universal gesture for OK at him.
"I will stab you in your face." Dean declares, with parted hair and an office tie. "I'm gonna get my gun." Now he's got sleep-floofed hair and the dead guy robe. Threatening Dean Winchester sure is impressive like that.
(Maybe he'd wanted to learn right away, and took Modi's OK as dismissal.)
(Meh.)
"Maybe you could be a little less... Lord-ly?" Sam cuts in, with his best lawyer impression. Nobody's sure who it's directed to - Dean, the Indian PM, Cas even? - but it doesn't matter because his eyebrows curve like parentheses of reasonability, hair tucked completely behind his ears - and everyone listens to this Sam.
"OKAY." Dean mumbles, sticking a needle in a doll. Or so, the author assumes he's doing.
Sam stares at him blankly for a beat, and then sighs into a smile. His hair's now long enough to curl magnificently at his neck. "You're too precious for the world." He strangles out, basically choking on the sentiment as he grabs Dean, and smushes him into a hug.
Cas smirks, smug.
"Oh, you." Sam pulls back enough to suddenly be in a maroon cardigan as he gazes at his brother through spectacled eyes of adoration.
Dean pulls him in then, bringing Sam down to his height - and Sam's hair escapes the ponytail grandly enough to fall over his face in perfect, messy locks.
The author's already weak heart stutters in her chest, and proceeds to give up entirely.
"Oh. No." Cas exclaims. Probably not for the author, but it's a sweet, borderline necromance-y coincidence. And then, unexplanably, he tilts his head and furrows his brow. "The whore."
Dean sighs, and facepalms. Sam changes into a grey button-up, and looks away into the distance.
The author daydreams too hard about being looked at like that, and loses it entirely.
Fin.
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*Sits down at desk*
*calmly files through books in front of a fireplace to classical music* *glances up at the camera* Oh, hello. *demurely pulls off glasses*
What makes a rights movement work? Is it the dialogue? The discourse? The trolling?
Tonight, I thought I’d tell you a little story and let you decide.
---
...*just looks to Good Omens fandom* So we have... *flips through* An accepted canon queer pairing between two leads, with no rival ships. The singular author has been receptive to queer readings, as has both of the actors, even if one clarified he doesn’t “play it like that.” But by authorial support, vague as it was, it was canon.
...*flips channel to season 10 supernatural fandom* So here we have an accusation of queerbait between two leads with a similar story, with several major rival ships. Of the multiple authors, several have been supportive, many silent, one actor said he plays it like that, the other clarified he doesn’t. Antis, often rival-shippers, heckled. Cas was a villain, not a friend.
*Plays through til’ Season 12 - 3 seasons ago - “doesn’t exist”* *1997 popup spam*
... *flips channel to season 13 supernatural fandom* So here we have antis having a panicked discussion about how Dabb could canonize Destiel without any sort of admission or physical engagement for it to be valid, while admitting at the actor that used to say he didn’t play it seems okay with it now, as well as it becoming an official marketing line, which they later denied. They mutually aired at Cas not even being cared for in public, while saying Dean cared more about him than Sam in their own lane. (x) (x) (x) (x) I mean, between them screaming at How Dare They Pander With The 13.05 Ending Being Romantically Shot. But everyone forgot that I guess.
*flips to season 14* Let’s see, genderswap, identical but truncated couple, same landmarks... no rivals... *checks box* cool, everyone sees canon.
...*flips to season 15 fandom* *gestures at the everything, including the storytelling style they described that could be used to be amply canon by time flashbacks and Cas’ death*
*looks at parts of shipping fandom trying to argue with season 10 anti fandom takes, but simultaneously repeating them*
*looks at season 13 anti fandom*
*files through recently sanitized anti walls that went on their third rage tear about the show being pandered by being romantic, since the current showrunner turn over* *clicks channel* “Destiel is real” - Jensen *menu flip* “Sam has better taste/Dean has no taste--” *clicks next* “domestic dispute--” --Jensen after filming 15.09 *clicks* “Our characters would be fucking [on another network]” --Misha after 15.09 *clicks to major media channel* “Breakup” - TVG *flips through other multiple TVG Destiel ads over to Variety* Relationship-- *flips across to soap opera reporters* 15.03 Dark point in the romance-- *flips to extrafanon, nonprofessional hubs* Hm, apologies for viewing it with a heteronormative lens until now from nonshippers that usually don’t cover the show, while fandom hangs itself on its own hubs in precarious silence or refusal to address the most challenging material. Alright.
*flips to modern marketing* Hm, DeanCas commercials *clicks* Oh right, that official Join The Hunt Destiel shirt that was printed and tagged and receipted like that, that they tried to tantrum offline *clicks* OH right that OTHER Destiel canon pride shirt that Stands just HAPPENED to make this year.
*turns off television* *blinks* *rubs brows*
*tents fingers*
So at some very bizarre point, things have seemed to switch around here.
At one point, Destiel fandom was avid that the romance mattered more than the physicality, even for canonicity. They, themselves, pointed out how homophobic and double-standard it was to demand a kiss when not all hetero couples need them to be valid. But admittedly, back then, the subtext pool was shallow. A veneer placed by a few key authors.
And yet today, while antis scream in waves, their own predictions and fears of how Dabb would handle Destiel coming true, their own “kiss or it doesn’t count” logic (presented only to positive fandom, of course, with the above links of their conversations among themselves where they knew that didn’t matter) seems to have transmitted like a disease rused in representation battles but in the name of arguing with them, of validating them, of giving them any sort of relevance in a show that overtly mocks them and while they riot and fit and convulse and delete and recant opinions, spewing things they don’t even believe anymore (above links.)
it's LITERALLY the same tactics as in Trump politics, where they just flood bullshit they don't even believe to keep people elevating them having any relevance at all in the conversation and distracting them from the actual core conversation/content. Disseminating misinformation and confusion to the conversation. Hell, going so far as to spend months building fake blogs to integrate to the culture and later spread bullshit (which was its own comedy act in the end)
Also the same tactic TAW used to try to inflate completely made up bullshit bad PR about Mish by getting well meaning fans of his floating the conversation by defending him and keeping it in the public eye. ITS THE SAME SHIT.
And yet here we are, with this fandom’s version of alt right dialogue having infected its respective progressive left, with tinhats instead of redhats vaguely yelling about Dabbama and spewing pointless self-defeating nonsense, but at some point -- somehow these fandom MSGAhats managed to successfully implant their ideology in the fandom and convince supporters of Team GreenBlue their active deletion of the content that these antis, themselves, once qualified as terrible potential canons, that are now very real -- that the deletion of this is what makes progressive dialogue.
Their nature is contrarian.
Contrarian to TPTB
Contrarian to canon
Contrarian to other fans
Contrarian to themselves
TPTB are already ignoring them. Oh my bad, BLOCKING. Some have gone past muting into BLOCKING them.
Canon doesn't care
If fans would stop humoring all fuckin 50 of them they'd only have themselves to be contrarian with.
Humoring them also includes internalizing their hilarious dialogues as anything worth two fucking pennies much less anything to contend with or prove or meet their clown bars of
Oh and while I'm thinking about it:
As recently as S13, antis were still trying to pretend it was a reasonable opinion that "Cas isn't family, or friend, Dean doesn't care about him at all, much less Sam"
In a year and a half they slid to "THEY'RE ONLY BEST FRIENDS NOT LOVERS!"
Seriously. Now take the absurdism of the S13 scenario
Turn your scope into the current scenario
Realize how every big publication has been addressing this shit
And here we are!
The new absurdism is, deadass, denying it. And convincing other fans that they somehow need to prove the flagrantly obvious, just like season 13~ with Cas' importance to the family. Just like any other intentionally daft way they suck up air and kilobits while frothing more than a rabid dog.
It's this weird mewling whimper, already settling down all of their values but desperately, hoping in this giant publicly visible homo tornado that the media itself is commenting on, that somehow, they can convince the GA who can't hear them anyway that it ain't gay. But somehow having convinced the rest of the fandom, now, that a stupid ridiculous-ass viewpoint this fandom used to know better than needing or demanding (rather than wanting or desiring, or encouraging) is needed to "prove" something to a GA that... *turns TV back on and files through the channels* ...Thheyyyyyyyyyy seem to be getting it better than shipping fandom right now, actually.
Stop internalizing horse shit and letting it redirect your activism like a damn political bot.
Unless, I don’t know-- unless you decided, with all of this -- since I did say you could decide -- that this remaining absurdity in the fandom is actually any kind of activism rather than trained demolition of your own content.
Grand as their self-contradictory public facade is, what I wouldn’t pay to be a fly on their GC walls to see their nega-clowning panic right now.
You know that goddamn meme republicans pass around where they or Trump just need to say the dumbest shit possible to make “stupid libs” chase the cat laser? THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT THIS FANDOM HAS LET THESE FUCKING IDIOTS DO TO THEM FOR YEARS TO THE POINT Y’ALL HAVE STARTED ARGUING THE OPPOSITE OF WHERE YOU STARTED.
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YANA BORTNIK ( FIVEL STEWART ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from MARQUETTE, MICHIGAN but moved to Broadripple 3 YEARS ago. SHE is AMBITIOUS and DISCIPLINED but can also be CONDESCENDING and CRITICAL.
BASICS
Name: Yana Mikhailovna Bortnik
Age: 17
Grade: Junior
House: Keough
Cabin Room: Room 3
How long have they been at Broadripple: 3 years
Where are they from originally: Marquette, Michigan
Extra curricular: Soccer, Speech and Debate, SWAT, and Women of Broadripple,
PINTEREST
CHARACTER AESTHETICS
Frothy matcha lattes, a furrowed brow, bargain bin arts & crafts, the strong smell of incense, palms pressed against the bark of a tree, late night cram sessions, an old scuffed pair of crocs, vanilla yogurt topped with berries, a small collection of crystals, a grass-stained soccer ball, monochromatic outfits, a small plain Kamidana, a backpack stuffed to the brim, a folder filled with school assignments graded with anything less than an A, a smattering of freckles across a nose, nervously bitten nails, a meticulous daily planner, and a furby meme-filled album on an iPhone.
TRAITS
Positive Personality Traits: Responsible, patient, ambitious, resourceful, loyal, organized, and self-disciplined
Neutral Personality Traits: Cautious, realistic, practical, methodical, business-oriented, serious, and suspicious
Negative Personality Traits: Sensitive, know-it-all, expects the worst, nosey, cheap, and rarely satisfied
FACTS
Yana is from Marquette, Michigan—a friendly, scenic, and cold place on the Upper Peninsula. Her mother is originally from Japan and moved to the United States to attend university and she stayed after she met Yana’s father. Yana has an older brother, Mikhail (Misha), who was born in New York, but then a job opportunity cropped up for her father that brought the family halfway across the country and dumped them in Michigan.
Yana’s parents are hardworking, no-nonsense, and both functioning alcoholics. Yana and Misha’s upbringing was, as a result, a little distant and sanitized, and has led Yana to push herself as far and hard as she can in order to feel like she has done something right by them. But mostly, not much she can do catches their attention.
Enter: Broadripple Academy in her google search for “top prestigious boarding schools grades 9-12.” Yana dedicated the entirety of eight grade to cramming for the entrance exam and convinced at least half a dozen of her teachers to send letters of recommendation or to help her with the application. While the Montessori school she attended wasn’t bad per se, it didn’t have the stature a place like Broadripple Academy did. It was a ticket to a great college, to a great future, and maybe like… a hearty pat on the back from her dad or a congratulatory hug from her mom????
She paid all the fees with money she made from babysitting over the previous two years, forged her parents’ signatures (as she was accustomed to), and her parents didn’t find out she had even applied until she got the acceptance letter. Their reaction was, as per usual, lackluster. They condescendingly thought it was cute that she had done all this on her own, bragged to their friends about how they helped her get in, and then in the fall Yana was shipped off.
What motivates Yana is not perfection but success, and it does have the habit of driving her up the wall sometimes but that is just the kind of sacrifice she has to make in order to fulfill a goal. She is very future-oriented in that when she first arrived at Broadripple she had a bit of a I’m Not Here To Make Friends outlook (though undoubtedly made 2-3 really close friends within the first couple months and has assumed her role as Mom Friend yes hello these are wanted connections).
Her dad is an atheist but her mom practices Shinto and used to be a Buddhist. When Yana and Misha were young, she really immersed them in both religions. They sporadically attended Lake Superior Zendo back home until Yana was about twelve and they still perform Shinto prayers at home at a Kamidana.
She is really dedicated to their studies and heavily side-eyes everyone who doesn’t take school seriously. Like, guys don’t you realize how lucky you are to be here!!!
HEADCANONS
Back home, Yana has a pet ferret named Pasha. If you are a friend of hers, you know everything about him from the little snuffling sounds he makes while he sleeps, his favorite treats, and the “walks” through the park that Yana takes him on when she’s home. He is her baby and she misses him. </3
Yana is quite... economical (i.e. cheap as hell). Her brother made her a tie-dye shirt that says ‘Dollar Tree Prom King 2008′ (an inside joke). She really values independence and money = independence, y’know? It’s just another thing she doesn’t have to worry about bothering her parents for, so she works at a restaurant and babysits almost nonstop whenever she’s home so she has spending money while at school.
Which reminds me that she feels like an awful daughter for literally no valid reason. That’s just what checked out parents do to you, I guess. :/
Though she’s a very serious person the things she finds funny are usually bizarre, nonsensical memes and she particularly loves furby ones, especially the long furby blessed be his name etc etc.
She has a small crystal collection that she uses for things like concentration, energy, calmness, self love, etc. Does she sincerely believe they do anything? I’m gonna go ahead and give it a 50/50. She does enjoy the ritual of charging them and doing full moon stuff. Who’s down to bask in the moonlight???
When not wearing the school-regulated Oxfords or her standard pair of white sneakers Yana is, in fact, wearing a pair of light blue crocs. They’re comfy, okay!!! Also fashion-wise, she does wear a lot of monochromatic outfits. If you go to her Pinterest page that I linked above you’ll see what I mean. Nothing too weird just like, a Brand.
QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT
What do they think about The Retreat? Yana is someone who feels her goals are in danger and/or inconvenienced by the Retreat. She very much wants to be at Broadripple and she’s going to be worrying about her GPA and missed opportunities from not being on campus. It makes her uneasy and she’s anxious to get back tot he dorms.
Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? She was in the Girl Scouts when she was a kid and attended Girl Scout Camp for a couple weeks for a few summers, but other than that her family’s connection to the outdoors was pretty regimented in religious ceremony a lot of the time. But she did grow up with a lot of people in Michigan who camped and did outdoors-y stuff, so she picked up one small things but nothing that would be very useful at the Retreat.
What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? Yana isn’t a neat freak by any means but she does value organization. She has her crystals laid out on her bedside table (they are usually on her desk back in the dorm), a couple sticks of incense, and her clothes are all neatly folded and put away. She has designated a spot beside her bed for all her school stuff, and then she has a framed photo of herself and her brother propped up nearby (see here). She also has a tote bag of like, cheap crafts supplies to do in her “downtime” as a form of chilling lmao. She had more miscellaneous decorative stuff back in her dorm that she didn’t bring.
Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? In a sense, yeah, depending on your definition of what is or isn’t supernatural. Going to take a direct quote here but: “informed by Shinto beliefs around notions of animism — a soul (“reikon”) lives within all existence and phenomena. Everyday things — from objects to plants to mountains — can be defined as ‘kami’ or deities.” So in a sense that she believes in deities, yes. But monsters? Cryptids? Ghosts? Not really.
Are they easily spooked? Actually, yes asdkjn. She’s just very verrrrrry jumpy. It doesn’t take much to startle her honestly.
AND FINALLY,
A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got
you will sacrifice yourself for someone else
your one of the purer hearts of broadripple, you may not even know the person you sacrifice yourself for that well but you think its the right thing to do. and maybe it is. but would they do the same thing for you?
genuinely didn’t expect it tbh! but aw
#retreat:intro#alcoholism tw#hmu if u wanna plot i have a few wanted connects for one in my gd life!!!!#i mean it's just 2-3 real good friends and one ex-boyfriend (i have details xoxo)#once*
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This is a story I wrote in four parts to help me and my friends cope with the loss of Castiel and the end of Supernatural.
Please read CastielXStacie Chapters One and Two and CastielXAllanah Part One before reading this.
CastielXStevie
Alone in her dark bedroom Stevie lay contemplating her latest resurgence of depressive thoughts. She knew there was no truth to them and yet here they were. These poisonous, self-loathing imaginings that she was alone in the world and without love. She clutched her pillow tighter to her as fresh tears fell from her eyes. Why was she like this? Why was she so pathetic? Why would anyone want her around when she was so clearly unworthy of the trouble she caused those around her? Maybe that was the reason none of the ‘Misha’s Angels’ were talking. Could it be they had started another group without her in order to save face and exclude her?
She thought of the last time they all had spoken. All had been lamenting Castiel’s death. All were heartbroken. Stacie seemed to have the strangest reaction to it though. The last thing she said to the group was, “I’ll find a way.” A very Dean-like utterance she thought. But a way to what? Bring Castiel back? The show would have had to keep going. A way to keep the show from ending? It already had. A way to soothe their hearts from the loss of someone so dear? What was in her power other than writing a very powerful, emotionally absorbing, reality-altering fanfic? Nothing. No one could write such a fanfic. The show writers had ripped the hearts from the ‘Misha’s Angels’ chests, puréed them in a blender, then lit the whole thing on fire.
Allanah said she received a message from Stacie asking her to ‘believe’, but what could that mean? Believe in what? As far as Stevie was concerned she had too little energy for belief these days. 2020 was an emotionally exhausting year. The sooner it ended the better. Not that 2021 would necessarily be better, but at least there would be a some leadership from the White House.
Yes, Castiel was dead. The ‘Misha’s Angels’ had abandoned her. Her Scottish boyfriend hadn’t spoken to her in nearly a week, her live-in boyfriend had broken up with her, and she’d had a fight with her girlfriend. She felt truly alone.
She rolled over as the next wave of falsehoods crashed over her. Something moved in the darkness. She held her breath watching the form that hadn’t been there when she turned off the light. Was she imagining things now? It loomed at the foot of her bed, six-feet tall and humanoid in form. A ghost? It turned it’s head to the side.
“FUCK NO!” Stevie screamed, throwing the pillow at it, and tossing her blankets aside to get out of the room as quickly as possible. She grabbed items from her bedside table and hurled them at the shape as she ran for the door. When the items rebounded she suddenly had a shocking realization. A ghost was scary enough but this was an intruder!
She screamed loud and long as her hands found the doorknob and she wrenched the door open.
“Hey!” The figure exclaimed from the Pelting, recoiling from each projectile. He stepped toward her, “Wait.”
She found a book and flung it at the man’s head, which he ducked and deflected with his left hand. She pulled the door shut behind her, holding it closed while trying to think of a way to defend herself. “Call the police,” she thought but then realized in her haste she had left her phone in the bedroom. “Run to the neighbors.” As this thought came to her the door between her and the intruder flung open pulling her in along with it. With all her strength she was no match for him. For just the slightest of moments she was face to face with the intimidating foe. Blue eyes was all she saw before she let out another scream and ran to the kitchen.
“Knife!” She thought, digging through the drawer. “Where were all the fucking knives?!” She shouted. She could hear his footsteps trailing after her. “Skillet,” she took a step toward the pots and pans cupboard but stopped short as the figure entered the kitchen. Her hands darted around for the nearest defense. Brandishing the weapon with two hands, she raised the wooden spoon between them.
The man stopped in the doorway, his hands lifted in surrender. “I mean you no harm.” His voice was low and husky, his trenchcoated frame silhouetted in the dim light from the living room window.
Though only moments passed it could have been years for all Stevie could ascertain. Staring at his form, the way his shoulders slumped, that ever so slight tilt of the head, that almost weight-of-the-world submissive stance...
“Cas?” The name fell from her lips before she could fathom the understanding that for Castiel, a character on a tv show, to be standing here, in her kitchen, was physically impossible. Misha, maybe. He had once been arrested for breaking and entering. But, no, highly unlikely. And Misha dressed as Castiel doing a little B&E? Extremely unlikely; albeit more likely than Castiel, angel of the lord.
His head tilted slightly, “Do I know you?”
Reasoning that as long as he kept his distance she could safely turn the lights on to get a better look at him. Though he squinted in the sudden illumination, it was him, in all his glory. That dark-chestnut hair, those blue eyes, that chiseled jawline, and those damn perfect lips. She felt herself drawn to them even now.
She wasn’t sure if she believed it or not. Heck, this could be a dream. Perhaps she had drifted off without realizing it and now she was having this incredibly vivid and lucid dream. And if it was? With all the self-doubt and negativity that had been filling her thoughts lately why not indulge in such a perfect escape as a Castiel dream.
“What are you doing here?” She asked as calmly and nonchalantly as she could muster.
He relaxed his stature, “Um,” he looked around, “I- I don’t know. I-,” he looked back to her, still holding the spoon, “I don’t even know who you are or where I am.” He said this despite his better judgment. He knew he didn’t know her but there was something so familiar about her. Had he lost his memory again? Had the being in the Empty done this? Could he be sure this wasn’t some trick created by the Empty as a means of torture? Possibly. But this woman... he couldn’t explain it, he felt drawn to her.
Seeing his eyes dart to her ‘weapon’ she put the spoon down, “I’m Stevie. And this is my house.”
His head raised in acknowledgment. “And... have we met before?”
“Only in my dreams.”
“This house, where is it located?” He took a few tentative steps toward the window and peered out.
“Ogden, Utah.”
“Not far from Kansas,” he noted to himself. “Are you some kind of psychic? The dreams are prophetic, I take it?” He turned back to her.
“No, not that I am aware of.”
“What am I doing in your dreams?”
Stevie felt herself blush, “You’re my boyfriend.” A shy smile came to her lips.
Castiel’s eyebrows shot up hearing this. “Oh, uh,” he stuttered, “that’s- ahem. That’s nice,” he trailed off.
Unsure of what to say or do, Stevie fidgeted with the discarded spoon. This dream was unlike any she’d had before. It was scary, and cute, and awkward, and, well, just plain strange. Memorable to say the least, she decided she must write this one down when she wakes.
“How am I here?” Castiel questioned her, although it was also a question for himself. This woman, she couldn’t possibly have an answer but looking at her he felt she could be the answer. The urge to kneel before her and claim his undying devotion was unfathomable and yet undeniably welling in his chest the longer he gazed at her.
Stevie shrugged and offered, “Manifestations of underlying and as yet unanalyzed emotions I’ve been feeling lately? That’s ultimately what all dreams are anyway.”
He furrowed his brow, “You think you are dreaming?”
She nodded slowly.
“This isn’t a dream. I’m real. My name is Castiel, I’m an angel of the lord.”
“A character on a tv show that recently ended,” she interrupted, “One that consumed my life while it was on and now has me mourning the loss with a giant hole in my heart.”
“A tv show?”
“Yes. This is all part of the healing process. Hallucinations and dreams created to confront and deal with the pain left by that loss.”
“And how do you explain my consciousness within your dream? Doesn’t this ‘dream’,” he used air quotes, “seem a little too ‘real’?” He strode to her, grabbing her wrist with his right hand and wrapping his left hand around hers. “Am I not real?”
Damn this dream was vivid. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers, the breath from his lips, the smell of electric musk that wafted over her from his stride across the room. Is it a dream? All of her senses screamed reality but it couldn’t be. Or could it?
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
An odd request for someone you’ve just met, sure, but given the opportunity, she had to take it. “In my dreams we’ve never kissed. If you kiss me, and make it passionate, I’ll believe you’re real. Or I’ll wake up.” (Again, why not take advantage of such a situation as this?)
Castiel lowered his and her hands contemplating her reasoning. Looking deep into her eyes he saw no malice in her proposition and, taking her into his arms, he awkwardly yet gently pressed his lips to hers. They were warm and soft, and pliant to his own, much like her embrace. Her body fit to his as if they were two puzzle pieces, finally rejoined after eons apart. Her left palm rested on his chest while her right arm snaked up and around his neck, her fingers tousled his hair as she tilted her head to offer a better angle. Unable to control the longing any longer his grip on her tightened, his strong arms crushed her to his frame abolishing any space between them. His own head tilted, his tongue flicked across her lips pleading access to which she obliged. The taste of her was sweet and enthralling. Their tongues danced in a sultry tango to the melodic crescendo of their heartbeats.
At last they parted, breathless and dizzy. “Wow,” Stevie sighed breathily.
Castiel, uncertain if he may have overstepped his bounds, released her and stepped back allowing her more room to breathe.
She waited with closed eyes. After a moment she peeked one eye open. He was still standing there, in her kitchen, watching her and waiting. She lifted an arm and pinched it. Still there. She slapped her cheeks a couple of times. Still there.
“Holy Mother of God,” she finally whispered.
Castiel tilted his head.
“You are real!!” She threw herself onto him causing him to stumble back and swing her like dead weight. “You’re real! You’re real! You’re real!” She disentangled herself from him. “I gotta tell my girls!”
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Captain America?
Pairing: Reader X Chris Evans (yeah, I did THAT)
Disclaimers: none :)
Word Count: 1.7K
A/N: Okay, I’m back again! I’m so sorry I’ve been coming and going, but I love doing these and I hope I can continue doing them for you all!!
M A S T E R L I S T
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“I’m telling you guys, something’s off with her,” Jensen said as he eyed Y/N from across the set where she leaned against the car while the crew got ready for her next scene. She was smiling from ear to ear down at the phone she hadn’t so much as set down since she came to set this morning.
Jared and Misha looked in the direction Jensen was staring, raising their eyebrows slightly, “Who do you think she’s talking to?” Misha asked.
Jared shook his head, laughing at the two of them, “C’mon, you guys! Y/N is an adult, she has the right to talk to whoever she wants-”
“I think she has a boyfriend.” Jensen interrupted, as if coming to a sudden conclusion, making Jared stop mid-sentence, his face falling.
“A what, now?”
“Hmm hmm,” Jensen nodded, hands on his hips, his lips going into a thin, straight line as Jared slouched down in the chair he was sitting in.
“You think it’s someone we know?” Misha asked, but Jensen only shook his head.
“All the people we know are on this set,” Jensen pointed out, “besides, if that were the case, why would she be texting him all day instead of just going to see him? No, I think this is someone she’s hiding.”
“Why would she hide her boyfriend from us?” Jared questioned, the three of them thinking about it, realizing that every time she seemed to have brought a boy on set he was never seen again, they liked to think it was because of their impeccable interrogation skills.
“Well, whoever it is,” Jensen said, pointing to the two of them, “we’re gonna get to the bottom of it.”
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Jensen, Jared, and Misha watched Y/N from across the table as she quickly typed away at her phone screen, her thumbs flying over the keyboard, a smile etched across her face. Jensen’s fork hovered over his lunch, trying to decipher who exactly she was so giddy about.
Finally, after about two minutes of constant typing, she set the phone down, picking up her spoon as she caught sight of the three of them staring at her. “What?”
Jared only laughed, shaking his head as Misha pointed to the phone with his fork, “Who was that?”
Y/N looked around herself in confusion, “Who?”
“Oh, don’t play that game,” Jensen said, shaking his head, “who’s the guy?”
Y/N slunk forward slightly, her eyes bouncing between the three of them, trying to come up with what to say before deciding on something so lame, she could already hear them groan, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The three of them groaned in unison, right on time. “There’s no guy!”
Jensen raised his eyebrows slightly, “Girl?”
“What? No, there’s nobody.” She said, shoveling a mouthful of food into her mouth as if it would give her a reason not to answer anymore questions.
Then, as if to give her a way, her phone lit up, her ringtone jarring her as she snatched the phone away before Misha could grab for it.
“Chris, huh?” Jared asked, having read the caller I.D. as Y/N watched it ring, “You gonna answer that?”
“Nope,” Y/N shook her head, her hands itching as the phone rang and rang, sighing when it was sent to voicemail, smirking at the three men across from her.
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Weeks went by after that and Y/N was careful not to bring Chris up in passing conversation. She wanted the beginning of their relationship to start off smoothly, not with the three of them breathing down his neck, a mistake she’d made numerous times before.
Today, however, was different.
After nearly a month and a half of dating, Y/N deemed it reasonable for Chris to finally meet the cast and crew, a feat she was less than ready to take on. Today could make or break their relationship, literally.
“Just, please, be civil?” Y/N begged as she waited outside the set, her hands wringing together nervously.
“Are you kidding? I’m the most civil person I know.” Jensen said, nudging her.
“I’m serious, you guys. I really like Chris, and...I could see a future with him, you know?”
Jared, Jensen, and Misha nodded slowly, knowing how much this guy meant to her, they genuinely didn’t want to mess this up for her, but part of the job description of having a co-star you saw as your little sister was making sure whoever she was dating wasn’t going to hurt her.
The phone in Y/N’s hand dinged, her heart leaping as she looked down at the text from Chris, nearly jumping out of her skin, “He’s here.”
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Jared, Jensen, and Misha sat where Y/N had left them, throwing around ideas as to who the mystery guy could’ve been and what he looked like and how exactly they’d size him up. The three of them watched the set door from where they sat as it was pulled open, bathing the room in bright sunlight as Y/N walked in first, followed by a tall, dark haired man.
Jensen, Jared and Misha shifted in their seats as they squinted at the figure who stopped to chat with one of the crew members, his hand coming to rest around Y/N’s waist.
“Does he look familiar to you?” Misha asked as they began to walk closer.
Jared sat forward in his seat, the face striking him as someone he’d definitely seen before, “Is that-”
“Captain America?” Jensen said, eyes wide as the three of them quickly stood as Y/N and Chris approached.
Y/N smiled, her hands coming to twist in front of her, “You guys, this is Chris. Chris, this is Jensen, Jared and Misha.” she said, motioning to each one of them.
“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard only great things,” Chris smiled, holding out a hand to Jared first, but the three of them only just stared, their eyebrows cinched together in confusion.
“You- you’re...” Jensen stuttered, pointing to him before looking to Y/N. “That’s-”
Y/N could tell Jensen was beginning to nerd-out over Chris who smirked slightly, his hand awkwardly falling down to his side as Y/N quickly tried to whisk him away before any of them could say something embarrassing.
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“Chris is, what, 35?-” Jared began shaking his head as him, Misha and Jensen all crowded into Jared’s trailer, trying to decompress after having met Chris.
“37, actually.” Jensen corrected as tapped his fingers against the counter, recalling the googling he’d already done. He stared out the trailer window above the sink to where Y/N and Chris were standing a little too close for comfort as they laughed and kissed, “Gross.”
“I mean, the guy’s a year older than me,” Jared said, his eyes bouncing between the two of them, “Isn’t that, illegal, or something?”
“She’s 24, not 16.” Misha said, defending Y/N as Jensen shushed them, throwing a hand behind him as he stared out the window.
“Y/N’s coming, act normal.”
Jensen threw himself into a chair, the three of them acting as if they were rehearsing lines rather than gossiping about Y/N’s relationship just as a small knock came at the trailer door followed by Y/N poking her head inside.
“C’mon in, Y/N.” Jared smiled a little too widely, making Y/N furrow her brows as she stepped into the trailer.
“Chris went to pick us up some lunch,” she said as she hopped up onto the counter, the concerned stares of the three men in front of her making her suspicious, “what?”
Jensen sighed, sitting forward in his seat as he threw a glance to Misha and Jared, “Y/N...don’t you think Chris, he’s...maybe a little, I don’t know...old for you?”
Y/N raised her eyebrows slightly, surprised that of all things that this was what they were concerned about. “I mean, he’s...what? Ten years older?”
“13.” The three of them corrected, making Y/N roll her eyes.
“Listen, I don’t see why that should matter. Chris- he’s a really great guy. He’s funny, he listens to me, he’s kind.” Y/N couldn’t help but smile down at her phone in her lap at the thought of him. The gesture switched something in each of Jensen, Jared and Misha as she described Chris. She’d never felt this way about anybody before and it clearly showed. “I really like him, and I want you guys to like him, too.”
The three of them smiled slightly at Y/N, who to all of them was more than a sister than anything. They just wanted the best for her, and it seemed like this could be it.
As if on cue, another knock came from the trailer door. Y/N hopped off the counter, placing one hand on the door knob before turning back to the three of them, her eyes slightly pleading.
“We won’t interrogate him,” Jared shook his head, “only a little.”
Y/N pulled the door open, smiling widely at Chris, his hands full of bags of take out, “I brought stuff for everyone.” He smiled, setting the bags on the counter.
Jensen, Misha and Jared, slightly impressed nodded at the gesture in thanks. Y/N’s gut twisted as she watched the three of them size Chris up, especially watching Jensen, who was typically the one to scare them all away, stood up, and reached out his hand. Y/N was slightly taken back as she watched the two of them shake hands, followed by Jared and Misha doing the same, the three of them smiling widely.
It had felt like a weight had been lifted off of Y/N’s shoulders as she watched the exchange. She’d always wanted to find someone who not only she loved, but also someone her best friends loved too.
“You know,” Jensen began as he patted Chris on the shoulder, “I was almost Captain America.”
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Forever Tag List
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Phantom Connection
/(AAghgsiwdhwj this is another free-write I wrote and it is ALSO mpreg trash again!! Because of course, it is with me...anyway this one gets a little graphic though so I’m gonna slip it under a ��read more’ to be safe. Anyway, hope you like!)/
Mission trips were always tedious. While they could be fun, what with getting to see new places and spending time away from the base, these trips were also very time-consuming and even dangerous from time to time. Yet it was one mission that would change the way the mercenaries looked at these responsibilities for a very long time.
Heavy, Demoman and Engineer were all returning from a long mission trip which had been stationed a few states over. They left early in the morning once all had been said and done, and now they were on their way back to the base.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary-- the three were chatting, sharing stories, and Engineer had even put in a music tape to play.
“This is one of my ma's favorite tapes,” he explained, turning up the volume. “I used to listen to it all the time as a kid, and I can even play a few of these on guitar,”
In the passenger seat, Demo listened, and he remarked, “Ah, not bad! Sounds like somethin' my mum would listen to too, but she doesn't listen to tapes much,”
“My mother does not own any music,” Heavy piped up from the backseat. “But maybe I will buy her tapes at Christmas,”
“Good idea!” Engineer agreed, supportive. His hands gripped the steering wheel as his eyes watched the road ahead.
It was then, however, that things began to change a bit. Engineer got very quiet all of the sudden, and whenever Demo or Heavy would say something he would only make grunts or 'hm' sounds in response. Both men in the car noticed immediately, and Demo was the first to take action.
“You all right there, lad?” Tavish wanted to know, concern present in his voice. “Ye need to make a stop?”
Engineer didn't respond for a long moment, trying to focus on the road while he forced down a wince. “What?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, blinking. “O-oh, uh...Nah, I think I'll be okay,”
“You do not look well,” Heavy leaned forward to get a better look at the Texan. “You are too pale, are you sick?”
“Really, fellas,” Engineer sucked in a breath, trying to crack a smile. “I'm okay, I--”
The car nearly swerved down a nearby hill, and when Dell managed to get safely back on the road Demo intervened.
“Lad, you ain't well,” Tavish observed, taking Dell's wrist. “Pull over and let me drive, all right?”
Engineer hesitated, and then nodded, slowing the car down and stopping it. “Okay...that's probably a good idea,”
They switched places, with Engineer now in the passenger seat and with Demo driving. Heavy continued to watch Engie from the back, shifting forward to pat his shoulder. “We will be back at the base soon, and Doktor will look at you,”
Engineer blew out a breath, his hands kneading at the armrests. “Yeah...okay,” he gritted his teeth, doubling over a little.
“What is wrong?” Heavy asked finally, watching Engineer's pained expression. “What is hurting you?”
“It's...” Engineer's voice died in his throat, so he simply pointed to his abdomen.
Demo noticed this, and he grimaced, rounding a corner. “Ugh, probably appendicitis,” he glanced at the truck's clock, noting, “We'll be at the base in thirty minutes. Hang in there, lad,”
Dell's only response was a soft groan, his head falling back on the headrest and his eyes pressing shut. He knew it wasn't his appendix since he'd had his appendix removed years ago, and even if that was the case his pain felt more like menstrual cramps. In fact, that's what he thought it was: despite the fact that changes had been made to his hormones and chest years prior, his period still came and went although it had a tendency to be irregular. Unlike his usual cramps, though, these were unbearable, and they made him feel uncomfortably warm and itchy all over. He tugged at his collar, grunting while rocking back and forth in pain.
Demo looked over at him again, and then at the clock. “Lad, we're almost there. We can make a stop if ye want,”
“No, it's okay,” Engie tried to stay calm, but mentally he said 'screw it'. He didn't care if he wasn't alone, so he brought his hands to his abdomen and began massaging where he felt the pain. “Keep drivin', please,”
Demo nodded, focusing back on the road. “Okay, whatever ye say,”
This went on for several minutes, and despite the constant massages Dell just felt worse and worse. The cramps were becoming more intense, and there was less space in between each one. A particularly bad one flashed through his abdomen, and he yelped, gripping the armrests again. “Ah, Lord!” he exclaimed, sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to even out his breathing.
Heavy reached out from the backseat to rub at Engineer's shoulder. “We will be back home soon,” he watched Engineer try to compose himself, noticing his posture and the sheer amount of sweat shining from his body. Something about this seemed very familiar to Misha, but he didn't know why...
“What does it feel like?” Demo asked, glancing at Engineer with a wince. “Can ye describe it?”
Engineer doubled over again, groaning out, “It's like...agh, it's like somethin' is tryin' to claw it's way out or ripping me apart-- oh!” he gasped, sitting up suddenly.
“What?” Heavy sat up again, watching in concern. His eyes went wide when he noticed a dark, damp stain in the denim of Dell's worn overalls, and the realization came crashing down.
“What the...?” Engineer panted, feeling the spot in confusion, before he let out a yell, gripping his stomach in agony. “Ah!”
Heavy wasn't quite sure how to process the situation at first-- he knew very well what was happening, as he'd witnessed his mother go through it years earlier, but in that case, she knew what she was doing and how to respond to it. Engineer clearly didn't know what was happening, or he did but he was too disoriented to deal with it properly. After a moment, Heavy gathered himself and looked at the clock.
They would be at the base in five minutes, but could Engineer hold on until then? He was hurting very badly, that was evident, but help was only five minutes away. For now, Heavy would have to coach him through it the best he could.
“Engineer,” Heavy got his attention, and he took the Texan's hand in his own and squeezed gently. “Breathe, yes? Try to relax, breathe deep, we will be there soon,”
Engineer nodded, but his brows pinched together with another cramp, and he hissed out in pain. “How soon!? I dunno how much longer I can handle this...”
At this point, Dell knew what was going on, and he could already feel some instinct deep inside himself telling him to push. He tried to ignore it to focus on breathing, but that urge to push was getting stronger and stronger.
Right as they finally pulled up to the base, Engineer could no longer stand it. With shaking hands, he undid his overall straps and shoved them down, trying to adjust himself the best he could.
“What are you doing!?” Demo exclaimed, his voice pitching a bit in shock.
Now that the truck was stopped, Heavy undid his seat belt and opened the door, shouting at Demo, “Get Doktor! Quickly!” before rounding the car to get to the passenger seat. Demo obeyed, leaping from the truck and sprinting to the base in a panic.
Heavy knelt down to get a better look at Engineer, keeping his hand on the smaller man's back. “Is okay,” Heavy comforted, trying to keep his voice quiet. “Body knows what to do, you will be all right,”
Engineer only nodded weakly with an 'uh-huh' before he kicked his overalls and boots off, another groan escaping his throat. This time, he obeyed with the strong urge he felt and pushed hard, his teeth gritting with the exertion. He cried out, and Heavy grabbed his hand to support him as he pushed a second time.
Medic came running out a moment later with a towel thrown over his shoulder as he quickly approached the car, calling, “Herr Engineer, I am coming! Do not worry!”
It was then, though, that Dell pushed a third time, and a loud gasp punched its way out of his throat. “Oh, my God!” his chest heaved, relief sweeping over him but a feeling of shock and panic setting in. He reached between his legs, his eyes wide in disbelief as he brought up a tiny, bluish baby for Medic to see.
Medic paused, assessing the situation mentally before diving in. “All right, all right,” he took the infant from the downright shocked Texan and wrapped it in the towel, rubbing it. “Here we are, now, let's breathe!”
Engineer laid against the seat, panting but already feeling much better. He watched the baby silently, fear forming in his chest. “Please breathe,” he murmured, barely audible, his heart racing.
The baby made a gurgling sound, before the little cry emerged from its throat, the small chest beginning to move naturally.
Medic still cleared the fluid from its airways anyway, cooing, “There we are! This is very unexpected, I had no idea you were coming! What a surprise,”
Engineer finally relaxed, smiling, a laugh making its way out of his throat. “Ha, yeah...you think you're surprised, imagine me!”
They all had a good laugh, and Medic bundled the baby up in the towel before handing her to Dell. “Here she is, I'll need to take a look at her once you're settled, all right?”
Engineer shifted his arms to hold the baby properly, peering into the towel to look at her. “Oh, my goodness,” he marveled, his voice softening as he touched the little cheek. He didn't even know what to say: she was gorgeous. She was small, but her skin was soft and while she didn't have much hair, the hair she did have twisted into sweet little curls on her head. She was perfect...and she'd taken Dell completely by surprise. All that pain he'd gone through felt so far away, now, and it had been replaced by a deep need to care for this little thing he'd just brought into the world.
Heavy patted his shoulder, smiling at him and the baby. “She is beautiful, Engineer,”
“Yeah,” was all Dell could reply with, his voice quiet. He leaned back, watching as Medic tied the cord off and stood up, removing his coat.
“Come, let's get you decent and inside,” Medic instructed, draping his coat over Engineer and taking his arm. He helped the smaller man up, leading him inside.
The other mercenaries had all gathered outside to watch from several feet away, although Scout was trying to get closer.
“Wait, what happened?” he took a step forward as if to run up to Engineer and Medic. “What does Engie have?”
Soldier held Scout back with a strong hand, but he also watched in interest. “It appears to be a sausage!” he confirmed after a moment. “A large one too! With legs!”
Scout wrinkled his nose. “Eww, what? No way!”
Pyro nudged Scout, getting his attention, and then pointed to Engineer before making the universal symbol of rocking a baby with their arms.
Scout's eyes got wide. “Holy shit, he had a kid!?”
“Gentlemen!” Spy's voice sounded oddly strained and more stressed than normal. “Leave him be-- the last thing he needs right is to be stared at by you Neanderthals!”
Everyone went silent, as it wasn't usual for Spy to scold others for being intrusive. Sniper spoke up a moment later, agreeing, “He's right. Come on, let's go back inside, and then we can visit with him later,”
Demo nodded. “Yeah, he was hurtin' pretty bad, he probably wants a break,”
With this, they trickled into the base one by one, until Spy was the only one left behind outside. Scout stopped in the doorway, turning around to look.
“Yo, Spy,” he called out. “You coming in?”
“Mm-hm,” Spy replied quietly, appearing to be lost in thought. He put out his cigarette before heading inside with the others.
Inside, Engineer got settled on a cot while Medic examined the baby. Dell watched, and he asked, “Is she okay, doc?”
“She's a little premature,” Medic replied, making sure she was warm in the towel. “You will need to feed her regularly and keep her warm since she needs to gain as much weight as possible,”
“I can do that,” Engineer sat up when Medic approached, and he held his arms out. “Lemme see my girlie,” a grin spread across his face when she was placed in his arms, and he kissed her forehead sweetly. “There's my angel! You feelin' better now, sweetheart?”
The baby yawned, squeaking a little as her hands curled into tiny fists. Dell relaxed back onto the pillow, sighing. “God, she's so beautiful...”
“What will you name her?” Medic wanted to know, removing his gloves and setting them beside the sink.
“I dunno,” Engineer admitted, stroking his baby's cheek. “I'll think of a name...I gotta get to know her first, you know?”
Medic nodded, understanding. “Of course! I understand completely,” he hung his coat up, heading for the door. “I will leave you two alone, then. Call if you need anything!”
“Yep!” Engineer smiled, and when the door closed he turned his attention back to his little girl, his hand brushing the wisps of hair on her head. “You got so much hair. I wonder if you'll have my ma's hair-- oh, gosh, she's gonna be so happy to hear about you! I'll have to call her, and she can visit so you can meet your granny! That'll be nice,”
The baby's eyes opened, blinking up at Dell, before they fell closed again. Dell felt tears prick at his eyes, and he held his daughter close, his chin coming to gently rest on her head. “I can't believe it...it's like I got a Christmas present in summer,” he rubbed her back, and she made a soft noise at him.
Engineer hardly noticed the door opening once more, but he did notice the smell of cigarette smoke faintly wafting near him, and he realized he wasn't alone.
He opened his eyes, sighing, “I know you're there, Spy...you don't gotta hide,”
Spy uncloaked, sitting on the edge of the cot. His eyes were fixed on the baby, and he said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Were you...going to tell me at some point?”
Engineer shook his head. “No. I didn't know, I couldn't have told you anyway,”
“I see,” Spy folded his hands over his lap, looking away. After a moment, he looked back. “And you'll be keeping the little one?”
“Of course,” Engineer's arms tightened around his daughter, feeling her shift in his arms. “I'd be a damn fool to give her to that shithole orphanage,”
Spy nodded understandingly. “Mm, yes, of course,” he sighed, focusing on the baby again. “Well...would you like me to be in her life? Because--”
“I do!” Engineer exclaimed, sitting up taller. “Look, I know what happened was a one-time thing, but she needs both her parents,” he looked back down at the baby, and then up at Spy again. “Even if we aren't together,”
Spy fell silent again before his eyes glanced at the floor. “They'll all know then, you know,”
“Is...that okay?” Engineer tilted his head, watching Spy’s face.
A pause. Spy nodded, and he shifted closer. “Perhaps it won't be so bad...she is beautiful,” he reached out, gently brushing the baby's little cheek. She squeaked, and Spy couldn't help but smile. “Salut, mon chéri. Comment allez vous?”
Engineer held his arms out so Spy could get a better look, and he moved closer. “You're gonna spoil her rotten,” he grinned when the infant shifted to look at up at Spy, but then his smile faded. “Oh, God...what about Scout? This is his--”
“Worry about that later, please,” Spy cleared his throat, making it clear he didn't want to bring his son into this just yet. “We have a daughter, let's celebrate her,” he pressed a little kiss to her forehead, humming softly. “Ma petite fleur. Sais-tu comme tu es belle?”
Engineer swallowed, but he felt himself smiling again as he tried to settle into the pillows once more. This wasn't what he imagined a moment like this being like, but he was grateful Spy wasn't going to disappear again.
#writing#my writing#hhhhhhh this is cute#im happy with it i guess???#if yall like this and want me to continue it i can#just let me know#mpreg#dysphoria tw#tagging just in case#tf2#tf2 spy#tf2 engineer#tf2 napoleon complex#will i always be trash#the answer is yes#childbirth tw#pregnancy
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I posted 28 times in 2021
23 posts created (82%)
5 posts reblogged (18%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 0.2 posts.
I added 82 tags in 2021
#supernatural - 15 posts
#spn - 14 posts
#spn family - 10 posts
#my art - 9 posts
#supernatural family - 9 posts
#dean winchester - 6 posts
#castiel - 6 posts
#misha collins - 5 posts
#tfp - 4 posts
#supernatural fandom - 4 posts
Longest Tag: 75 characters
#he had anger issues from the mark of cain and his dumpster fire of a father
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
TW for cussing but I’m honestly too tired to censor it rn
I’m having a breakdown over the fucking fandom because Misha had to apologize for people being petty. Why do people get so butt hurt about the smallest things? Misha didn’t do anything. He’s said several times to live audiences that he hates that W*ncest exists and wants nothing to do with it but he mentions it once and the whole fandom loses its shit. Are we really that childish? Are we really that petty? Do we really not realize that Misha Collins is a HUMAN BEING just like us who makes mistakes and has been stuck in quarantine like the rest of us? He said it himself that he’s realized how much he actually enjoys talking with people and this is his way of reaching out rn. So-rry for making a joke. There’s no reason to treat him like that for simply saying a word. Misha Collins is honestly one of the best human beings I have ever seen and I haven’t even actually met the guy. Misha, if you ever come across this, I’m so sorry. You never deserved this shit.
It’s not only how people treat Misha, but he’s the one I’m seeing get attacked right now. All actors seem to be nothing more than props to some people and it’s sometimes honestly disgusting. They are people, just like me and you, so treat them with the same fucking respect that you want. Just because they have their name written on a gold star on some street somewhere doesn’t mean that they suddenly become more or less than human. Stop using them as your personal punching bags and therapists. I could never do what they do because I wouldn’t be able to hold back from some of these people. Why can’t people realized what actors do for us? They don’t have to cater to our every need, but most respectable ones do because they don’t want to hurt our feelings. Stop being shocked when they make a supposed mistake. You make mistakes every day, why can’t they?
Sorry for the rant. Some people just infuriate me.
29 notes • Posted 2021-03-14 04:28:24 GMT
#4
Sometimes I think “why was I born in the universe where Destiel wasn’t canon”?
Other times, I think “I was so glad it never went canon, this shit’s the funniest thing to watch happen”.
30 notes • Posted 2021-08-10 05:20:06 GMT
#3
Now that my hyperfixation on Supernatural has finally calmed down, I’m now stuck in between it and my longtime obsession with Transformers. I was thinking of faceclaims for Transformer holoforms (solid projects of a transformer as a human for non-tf people) and realized that Castiel reminds me a lot of TFP (Transformers: Prime) Optimus.
To me, they have a very similar facial structure. Deep set brow, hooded blue eyes, mouth almost permanently in a straight line. But it’s not only the looks that are similar, their personalities and mannerisms are alike as well. Both are self sacrificing, hold strongly to familial bonds, and were able to see past deception from those they trusted. Plus, Optimus also does that little knitted brow head tilt when he doesn’t understand something.
See the full post
33 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 06:31:07 GMT
#2
SECURITY BREACH SPOILERS!!!!!!!!
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Just wanted to talk about this real quick and how it could confirm that Ballora is Mrs. Afton. Not saying she 100% is, but this little tidbit feels like it could confirm that.
See that family? See how there are there male figures and two females? Just like the Afton family? One is missing a head, indicating the crying child, while one of the others looks like Baby, indicating Elizabeth. The other two males can be said to be Afton himself and the oldest, Michael. That leaves the mother, with very similar looks to Ballora. Blue hair, rosy cheeks, blue dress.
If anything, this is just a fun Easter egg of the Afton family, but knowing these games, there’s more to it. I’m just throwing my 10 cents in there.
137 notes • Posted 2021-12-22 06:48:15 GMT
#1
4809 notes • Posted 2021-06-26 17:25:53 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
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Ten Things I Hate About You Part 1
Jared Padalecki x Reader
Words:2504
Warnings: Angst and threatening of a character.
Summary: You were a young child star and you had always learned to keep your distance away from your male co-stars when you were younger, but when your casted onto Supernatural as an unknown character in the beginning to the boys and you try to keep yourself away from Jared and Jensen who are trying to make sense of you when you start working on the show with them, and they begin to wonder if they done something wrong to render the cold treatment. Soon they realize that there is something that had rendered the cold treatment and they are more than willing to get to the bottom of the problem.
A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Ten Things I Hate About You. This is going to be a series… and I have no idea of how long it is going to be just yet, because it depends on how long it is going to actually take me to write it and see where it is going to go really. But I’m going to see how far this series goes. Also this will have some wife positivity… But Genevieve will be best friends with Jared since they split up. So there will be quite a bit of wife positivity as the story goes. I don’t want to leave such amazing people out of this story. So I hope that you guys enjoy this first chapter.
You had been in the world of acting for a while, and nothing would ever prepare you for the world of Supernatural. You were a 26 year old actress and had some well known roles before you had gotten a call to join in on Supernatural. Your manager that you had since you started in the acting world was onboard with the whole idea of you trying something new and the Supernatural television show seemed to be her idea of a good fit for you after everything that you had been through the past year. Now all you had to do was prove it to yourself that you could still handle the roles.
Crowley stood before you in one of the motel sets. He looked at your back since you hadn’t been facing him. “I need you to come in Gwen.” His voice sounding very demanding of you.
You turned around and looked at Crowley. Your face didn’t show any emotion to Crowley. “Ordering me to come in Crowley?” Your words sounding like a sneer of distaste of the King of Hell. “Riddle me this, you finally run out of demon’s to order around, and thought that now would be the wise time to come and bother me?”
Crowley narrowed his eyes at you and got into your personal space. “Listen here… I’m calling you in because you owe me a favor.”
You shoved Crowley back some for getting into your personal space causing the King of Hell to stumble. “Me owe you a favor? Don’t make me laugh. Your favors always ends up making someone dead in the end or someone is that much of a sucker to believe that you are high and mighty and willing to help out with something.”
“You will listen to me girl.” He said grabbing onto your arm. “You owe me big time. Or would you rather be a chew toy for one of my hounds?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. Of course Crowley would bring up the hounds, and they scared you to no end. This was always how he got things to go his way. Threatening you with his beloved hounds and there was no way that you were able to say no to him. “What’s the favor?” You asked your voice coming out shakily.
“Cain… I’m on his list. And you are coming with me… because we are going to need your talents, Gwen.” Crowley said looking you dead in the eye.
You took a deep breath as you looked at him. “Magic.” You simply said as you pursed your lips together. You let out a soft sigh and then nodded your head at Crowley knowing that you had no choice in the matter, but to help him out.
“And cut!” The director, Phil Sgriccia called out from his chair.
You let out a soft breath as you turned your head. Thank god, finally the scene went as it was supposed to. You wiped the sweat from your brow.
“You did good love.” Mark said giving you a pat on the shoulder and offering you a charming smile. He really thought that you had done well working with him on the scene together without any interruptions from the two goofballs Jared and Jensen.
“Thank you.” You said with a small smile. You were just thankful that you could make it through the scene without having any issues. You were thankful that you were able to jump right back into doing the job that you loved so much and sometimes hated depending on who you were working with.
Mark patted your arm lightly. “You’ll fit in just fine here.” He knew that you were going to fit in just fine with the rest of the cast. He left to go and relax a little bit since he didn’t have to film for a little bit.
You bit your lower lip hoping that Mark was right about you fitting into this lovely group of people.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You walked off of the set after having filmed for most of the day. You hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be when you automatically went to work with Jared and Jensen. For some reason those two were always wanting to have fun and tried to get you to crack up on set. You let out a soft breath slowly taking your hair down from the top knot that the makeup department had put in. You shook your head lightly allowing your hair to fall over your shoulders.
You couldn’t understand how two grown men could act the way that they did. Hyper active on set and goofing off and trying to make everyone around them laugh their asses off and not getting through a scene. Granted you had dealt with some tricksters in your time of acting, but never like this.
“Hey Y/N!” Misha called out to you, a bright smile on his face, causing his blue eyes to light up.
You turned your head looking at Misha, and you bit your lower lip shyly. “Can I help you Misha?” You asked in confusion of why he would call out to you. You were well on your way to go home and rest. You were fairly exhausted from the day of filming that you had done.
“I was wondering where you were off to.” He said his tone not changing. He was much too chipper for you at that moment.
“My room for the night. Filming has taken a lot out of me.” You said softly. You truly hated lying to people, but you really didn’t know Misha that well to be going out with him anywhere.
“Oh. Right you’re one of the ones that don’t want to take time to know her cast mates aren’t you?” Misha asked crossing his arms looking at you with a concerned look on his face. He wouldn’t come right out and say it that he was worried about you since you had come onto set and with the way that you had been acting around Jensen and Jared.
You bit your lip shyly. “I’m exhausted, Misha…”
“Maybe some point you’ll join us? Cast dinner?” He asked hopeful that you would join them at a cast dinner.
“A dinner?” You asked as you pursed your lips together. You had been to cast dinners before, but never like this. “Um… I’m not sure that it would be a good idea Misha…”
Misha patted your shoulder lightly. “Alright, get some rest Y/N… see you tomorrow on set.”
You gave him a small smile and nodded your head and began to walk towards your car knowing that you were probably going to have another long day of filming with Jared, Jensen, Misha, and Mark. You were a bundle of nerves of working with the two men that acted like children.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
You let out a soft sigh as you made your way to the apartment that you rented for while you were here.
“Hey, Y/N!” Jared said calling out your name causing you to stop in your tracks and to turn and face the 6’4 male.
You pursed your lips together, and tilted your head to the side in confusion of wondering why he was following you towards your apartment. “Can I help you?” You asked softly trying to keep calm of what had happened on set in the back of your mind.
“Sorry for what happened on set Y/N… I was wondering if you would join me, Jensen, and Misha for a few beers.” He said offering you a smile.
“Oh… I told Misha that I was coming home for the night to rest.” You said shifting a little on your feet trying to keep the weight from being on just one leg. You were nervous since your first day on set had started out well, but when it got to the point of working with Jared and Jensen, you couldn’t keep focused. You had worked with some handsome co-workers before, but Jensen and Jared took the cake… they had made you feel… well they made you feel like you weren’t yourself. Not with being new to the whole Supernatural family.
Jared’s smile fell. He hadn’t expected you to say no. “You tired from working on set?”
You forced a fake smile on your lips, something that you had rehearsed for years as you had become an actress. You always wore it around when you worked with others just to keep them off of your ass. “Yeah… I’m pretty tired.” You said as you stuck your hands into your back pockets of your regular pants that weren’t your on set pants.
“Been awhile since you’ve worked on a set like this?” Jared asked curiously biting his lower lip. He was curious about you because you acted so professional on set, he was afraid that you would’ve ran off of the set in a panic when him and Jensen began to pull pranks.
You nodded your head stiffly. That was true. You hadn’t worked on a set like this in a while. In all of your times of working on sets of television shows you were a main character. You of course busted your ass on the shows that you worked on, and occasionally you would pop up in movies as an extra. It was just something that you enjoyed doing.
Jared gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine, Y/N…” He said putting his hands into his back pockets nervously as he looked at you with a soft look. “I just thought that it would be nice to get to know you.”
You bit your lower lip softly unsure of what to think. After all not many people thought about getting to know you when you were a guest star on any show that you had been on. You hadn’t been expecting to get to know your cast mates. You after all weren’t going to be there that long. Maybe for a few episodes and then you would be gone for a while. “To know me?” You asked softly looking into his hazel eyes that you felt like you could get lost in them. The mixture of colors that you now had a feeling that you were going to adore.
Jared nodded his head. “Yeah, getting to know you. You’ve been quiet since you got onto set.” He had to admit that he was kind of worried about you and how you had been around him and Jensen. He felt like you had closed yourself off and that was the last thing that he wanted to happen with you. He had wanted to make you feel welcomed on the set.
You pursed your lips together and fiddled with the black gel band that was around your wrist that went with the other gel bands that you had on your wrist. “It’s nice of you to think that, Jared.” You let out a soft sigh. You wanted to get to know them, you truly did, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you just weren’t ready yet. “Maybe some other time. Is that alright?” Your mind was going a mile a minute. You seriously wanted to go into your apartment and change into something more comfortable.
Jared pursed his lips together looking at you as if he was trying to get a read on you to see what you really had been thinking. He saw that you were shifting nervously under his gaze. He had a feeling that you weren’t use to being asked to join in on things. He hadn’t noticed that your lips were moving. His gaze broke when your fingers snapped in front of his face, causing him to blink a few times.
“You zoned out.” You said letting out a soft huff. You hated it when people did that, but for some reason he had been staring at you when he did that, and it made you that much more nervous of why he was doing that while looking at you.
“You said something?” He asked blinking a few times looking at you.
“Yeah.” You said putting your hands on your hips looking at the 6’4 actor with a look of worry. You couldn’t help, but wonder if he had gotten enough sleep the night before with how he was acting right at that moment with you. You let out a sigh shaking your head. “I was asking if it was alright to do it another day. I’m not quite use to being on a set this grand… after all it’s been a while.”
Jared offered you a small smile knowing what you had meant. He had heard that you had been out of work for two years… and sometimes it took a while for actors and actresses to get back into the groove of working. And he supposed that was what needed to happen with you too. “Okay.” He touched your shoulder lightly and felt you jump a little under his touch. He couldn’t help, but wonder what that was about. “Get some good night sleep.”
You smiled a small smile. “Thanks Jared. You and the guys enjoy your night out.”
Jared nodded his head. He watched you slowly go up towards your apartment which wasn’t too far away from his. But what was bothering him was how you had jumped when he had touched you. He couldn’t help, but wonder what had happened to you to cause you to act like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You got into your apartment and closed your door leaning up against it. Tears came to your eyes as you began to think of what had happened outside of your apartment. Your little encounter with Jared, and how it made your heart race inside of your chest. You just couldn’t understand how someone could be that nice and wanting to get to know you?
You closed your eyes as you felt a few tears slide from your closed eyes and down your cheeks. You had no idea why they wanted to take time to get to know you. You let out a soft shuddering breath, you were afraid of getting to know your cast mates. You were afraid of them finding out what had caused you not to work after a while. That was something that your manager made sure that it would never see the light of day ever, unless it came to light through the social media. And that was something that you were afraid of. You didn’t want people to hate you.
You pushed yourself away from the door and walked to your room. What you needed at that moment was sleep. You needed to keep your mind off of what you were feeling. You needed to keep your thoughts from running wild and you already knew that filming with Jensen and Jared was not going to be easy, not in the least bit. And you had no idea how you were going to handle it.
@chelsea072498 @kinky-barnes @mommy-winchester @faegal04 @kazosa @crazysocklovingfangirl @cookingglitterfairy @mamaredd123
#Jared Padalecki#jared padalecki/reader#Misha Collins#Mark Sheppard#supernatural#Supernatural rpf#Ten Things I Hate About You
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When You Go (Part 4)
Words: 3.4k
Summary: Misha tries to convince the love of his life that he only wants her.
Warnings: Language, feels, smut (vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, the slightest dirty talk, unprotected shower sex)
A/N: I’m planning on having one more part and possibly an epilogue after that. Who knows, I’m an indecisive person. Tags at the bottom; let me know if you’d like to be added! Also, I love Vicky, no hate, yada yada yada, you know the drill.
—————
It had been 5 days since the convention and your night spent with Misha. To put in mildly, you were miserable. Sleep didn’t come easily; when it did you were plagued with either nightmares about your breakup, or worse, dreams of better days; days with Misha. The nightmares at least matched how you felt when you were awake and you could grow numb. The dreams fooled you, briefly, into feeling like everything would be alright. Tonight was one of those nights.
————–
“Dmitri Tippens Krushnic! You sick son-of-a-bitch! You are dead! You hear me? DEAD!!“ your voice echoed across the asphalt between trailers.
You stormed into Misha’s trailer where he was casually lounging sitting on his couch, arms behind his head with the biggest, self satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Ah-ha, Ma Chérie,” he giggled in an obnoxious French accent. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?! What the fuck is this, Misha?!” you shouted as you gestured to the ridiculously short French maid outfit you were wearing. “Where the hell are my clothes?!”
With mock surprise he covered his mouth and gasped, “Those aren’t yours?!” He stood up and stepped behind you and lifted the back of your skirt to peek underneath letting out an obnoxious mock French laugh.
You swatted his hand away and tried not to smile, “What if someone saw me? You didn’t even leave me any underwear!” you spoke in a hushed whisper, even though no one outside the trailer could hear you.
He simply smiled while moving to kneel in front of you having you lean back against the wall. Seeing him look up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen started to melt your anger away. He placed a kiss on your knee and trailed his lips upward. Lifting your skirt, exposing the bare flesh between your legs, he smiled up at you again. “Happy Anniversary, Baby.” He kissed up your inner thigh until he was almost where you desperately needed him. “Mmmm, baby, I lo…”
BEEP BEEP BEEP
The sound of your alarm jerked out out of your sleep. “Fuck!” you yelled out as you rubbed your eyes. Now you were desperately turned on, lonely, and missing the last person you wanted to see. You closed your eyes and let yourself remember the rest of that day. You had great sex in his trailer, he made you dinner while you made dessert, and you fell asleep with your head in his lap while he read you some of his favorite poetry. It wasn’t a glamorous first anniversary, but it was perfect. You opened your eyes again once you realized your pillow was now soaked in the tears that were gently streaming down the sides of your face. Sniffling, you uttered a final “Fuck” before wiping your face and getting out of bed.
The day passed like the last 4 had. You weren’t due back for filming until the end of the month, so you spent your days wallowing in self pity. Today though, you had the addition of a nagging feeling that got worse the more you ignored it. You knew exactly why you had that dream last night, but you really didn’t want to think about it.
4 years. Today would have been your 4th anniversary with Misha. You stopped looking at your phone because even seeing the date in the screen would upset you. It became too much and you couldn’t handle it anymore. So you decided to go back to bed before the sun dropped below the horizon.
—————
You woke up suddenly to the sound of something hitting your bedroom window and music playing outside. You grumbled as you walked over to the window to see Misha standing on your lawn with an old boom box that was playing ‘In Your Eyes’ by Peter Gabriel.
After opening the window, you yelled down to him, “Mish, what the hell are you doing? It’s late, someone’s gonna call the cops!” You were able to lower your voice when he stopped the music. “Come on, man. Are you really going all ‘Say Anything’ on me?”
He shrugged, “That depends. Is it working?” There he goes again; you want to be so angry with him but you still have to hold back a smile. He was too dorky and adorable for his own good.
You were going to remain strong tonight though. “Misha, I know you’re scheduled to shoot tomorrow. It’s late, go home.” Then you closed your window and crawled back into bed, knowing sleep would not be coming tonight.
About 30 minutes passed and you were still a mess. Seeing Misha was hard enough because of his Cusack move on your lawn. But being that he did it on the date of your anniversary made it so much worse. You had assumed he didn’t even remember what day it was, which actually upset you more. You were torn from your thoughts by an odd noise coming from downstairs.
“Well, if I get murdered in my house tonight at least I won’t have to deal with all this bullshit anymore!” you joked to yourself. You knew houses made noises on occasion, so you weren’t really that concerned. That is until you remembered that you forgot to set your security alarm before going to bed and the odd noises started sounding like footsteps acceding the stairs.
You stood in the dark by your bed playing every violent home invasion scenario you’d seen on TV. When your bedroom door started to creak open you screamed and threw the closest thing you could grab towards the intruder; your bedside lamp. You had terrible aim as it crashed against the wall, nowhere near the door or your soon-to-be murderer.
“Jesus, Y/N! A lamp? Really? I’m lucky your aim is awful.” an all too familiar voice called out in the dark before flipping on the main light.
You winced at the sudden light as you yelled, “Are you kidding me, Misha?! Your broke into my fucking house?! I could have called the cops or tried to stab you or something.” You huffed and rolled you eyes, “How’d you get in anyways? You left your key behind when we broke up.”
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, unsure if he really wanted to admit how he got in. “Yeah, uh, you have a window downstairs that doesn’t lock right. You should really get…”
You cut him off by snapping at him, “Get it fixed?! Yeah, the same window I had asked you to fix a year and a half ago that you never got around to doing? That window?!” That may or may not have been a bit of a sore subject for you. Misha was great, but he was scatterbrained as hell.
He winced when he remembered how many times you had asked him to fix it. He had intended on getting to it several times, but his busy schedule often caused it to slip his mind. “Sorry. Yeah, I… uh.. I can… No, I will fix it for you this week. I promise.”
Your eyes rolled so hard it almost hurt, “Whatever, Misha. It’s late, you’ve got to shoot tomorrow… oh right, and a fucking fiancée to get home too!” You were so caught up about the window and the fear of getting murdered that you almost forgot about Vicky. “Please, just, leave me alone.” The words came out more sad than angry. You were too emotionally exhausted to stay angry apparently.
He grabbed you gently by your shoulders to pull you into a tight hug before explaining himself. “Sweetheart, I don’t have a fiancée. Vicky needed help planning a wedding. We broke up months ago. I’m sorry. I tried to call and tell you, but you shut me out again.”
You stood still for a moment, unsure on how to proceed due to the shock and embarrassment washing over you. When you were finally able to speak, all you could utter was a quiet “What?”
You expected him to gently lecture you about how you never gave him a chance to explain, how you just blocked him out again, or how awful it made him feel that you had such distrust for him. He didn’t. He gently cupped the sides of your face, with his long fingers moving back to tangle in your hair. Before you even had a chance to appreciate the physical touch, his lips were in yours.
Initially letting out a squeak from the sudden movement, you quickly sank into the kiss. Without separating your lips, Misha whispered, “I love you.” He pulled back to stare into your eyes before continuing. “So fucking much. I’m not doing this anymore, ok? I love you, you love me. That’s it, that’s all that matters. If you try to push me away, I’ll just hold on tighter. I will handcuff you to the bed if that’s what it takes to keep you from leaving. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever, get it?”
You were filled with so many emotions. He was so demanding and passionate and… hot! But he was also so loving and forgiving. You stood there with your lips parted and eyes wide, not able to respond. He quickly returned to his goofy adorable self by responding your you in an exaggerated, high pitched voice, “Oh Misha! I love you too! Let’s get married and have thousands of babies!” Returning to his normal voice, he responded to himself, “Well, Y/N, if you insist. But maybe not thousands.”
He continued this mock conversation with himself for another 5 minutes. You were laughing so hard you had tears running down your face. You finally decided to stop him when he started pretending to make-out with himself while humming back and forth between high and low pitches. “Ok, stop! Now you’re getting weird….er.”
“Thank God you stopped me! I almost got to 3rd base!” he said with a laugh as he wrapped his arms around your waist again. He pressed his forehead to yours and his expression became serious again. “I mean it. I love you and I’m not going to let anyone separate us again, even you.” He furrowed his brow in concern before stating, “Ok, that was a little more creepy than intended.”
“Is that any creepier than you telling me you’re going to chain me to the bed?” you asked with a wink while wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re such a dork….but, I guess, you’re my dork.”
“I could chain you to the bed, you know; if that’s what you’re into,” he said with a cheeky grin. Bringing his mouth right next to your ear with his voice suddenly dropping to a low, seductive tone, “Arms above your head, unable to fight against me. Just have to lay there, taking everything I have to give you.” He began placing open mouthed kisses under your ear and down your neck and he backed you towards the bed.
“Fuck…Misha..” came out in a breathy moan. You had missed him and his touch so much over the last year. The night you spent together after the convention only left you wanting more. Part of you felt like you should take this slow, the other part wanted him to be inside you and never leave.
He must have picked up on your slight hesitation when he stopped all movement, “Is this ok? We.. uh… can take this slow if we need to. I don’t want to rush you.”
You laughed at his sudden change in demeanor “Baby, I would have stopped you if I didn’t want this. Now, who am I getting tonight: sweet Misha or this new, dominating Misha?” you asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“How about somewhere in the middle? Tonight should probably be more romantic, shouldn’t it?” he asked back with a smile. He kissed you lightly on the lips before continuing, “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”
You wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to fuck him so hard neither of you could walk tomorrow. “Happy Anniversary, Misha.” was all you could say before you pulled him into a passionate kiss as you both dropped to the bed.
His hands roam your body with his lips on yours again was a feeling you could never get tired of. That is, until a sudden realization hit you causing you to push him away from you. “Misha, stop. Wait.”
He looked down at you, his face full of confusion, worry, and a hint of annoyance, “Y/N, you’re kind of giving me mixed signals here. What’s wrong, sweetheart. If we’re moving too fast…”
“No, no. That’s not it.” you said quickly, cutting him off. “I just… I’ve been mopey all week. You know how I get when I’m like that.” He continued to look confused, not understanding the problem. “Babe, I haven’t showered in forever! I’m gross. I don’t even remember if I brushed me teeth today! My mouth must taste awful!”
He leaned down to kiss you again briefly and smiled. “You and your flawed logic. First, you’d never be gross to me. Second, don’t you remember when I dragged you camping with me. We didn’t really bathe the whole week and we fucked like rabbits.” He leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time before pulling back to look at you again. “You’re mouth tastes fine. Mmm, garlicky”
“Shut up! I didn’t even eat garlic today! ” you yelled while slapping his chest. You were still self conscious, but laughed at his attempt to make you feel better.
“Fine, I guess we’re moving this to the shower then.” he said while pulling you up and dragging you to your bathroom.
You relaxed under the almost-too-hot spray of your shower. Misha had his arms wound tight around your waist while peppering your neck with light kisses. “Mmm, as good as that feels Mish, I’ve gotta get clean before the hot water runs out.” you warned.
“Fine.” he pouted. “But I’m helping!” He grabbed your shampoo and began massaging it into your scalp earning a relaxed moan from you. He let you rinse and repeated the actions with conditioner. Lowering down to your ear, he spoke gruffly, “Now the fun part.” Standing a full hight again, he cocked his head and smiled. “Well, no THE fun part. But A fun part.”
You chuckled and responded in a relaxed tone, “Mmhm. Whatever weirdo.”
He ran the soapy wash cloth over your back and shoulders and laughed, “Have you met me? Hi, I’m Misha, licensed weirdo.”
You were about to give a sarcastic comeback until he reached around to “clean” your breasts. He always seemed to more time than necessary “cleaning” there. He lightly squeezed them and placed lingering kisses on your neck. You could only let out a small moan in response making him smile against your skin.
Slowly, he moved his hands and the wash cloth down your stomach. You instinctively reached your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair and turned to kiss him. It only took a second for the kiss to turn into a heated, passionate make-out session. Your tongues fighting each other for dominance. He finally broke the kiss and cocked his eyebrow at you, “I thought you wanted to get clean. You’re very distracting.”
Grabbing the hand holding the wash cloth, you brought it down between your legs. “You better get on with it then.”
He rubbed the cloth between your legs for a second before his turned you to face away from him again and dropped the cloth. He brought his soapy fingers back down to slide through your folds, keeping the pressure just hard enough to get you worked up. His free hand moved to roll a nipple in his fingers while he pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck.
You could only moan and lean your head back on his shoulder and grip his hair again. Your moans got louder as he slipped a finger inside you and continued light strokes on your clit with his thumb. “Fuck, baby, you’ve got no idea what those noises do to me.” He smiled as you pressed your ass against his erection. “Or maybe you do.”
He added a second finger and curled them; rubbing the pads of his fingers against your g-spot. You yelled out his name as your legs began to tremble. “Misha, fuck, I’m close.” was all you could gasp out.
He could feel you clench around his fingers. “Ok, baby. Come for me, come on my fingers. Let me hear you, don’t hold back.” he growled into your ear, knowing how much you loved it when told you to come for him.
You were lucky that Misha was strong enough to hold you up or else you would have collapsed. Your orgasm hit you hard; letting only a small, strangled groan come out. Misha pulled his fingers from you slowly and ran his fingers soothingly over your sex.
“Baby,” he whined, “I said I wanted to hear you. You barely made a sound. Can you stand yet?”
“Yes. I think so.” you panted out. It took you a second to catch your breath and regain your footing.
“Ok, come here, baby.” He leaned back against the wall and pulled your back to his chest. He lifted your leg and placed your foot on the ledge you use for shaving. “Brace yourself baby, gotta make this one count.” he said darkly as he lined himself up with your entrance and slamming you down on him.
You cried out, loudly, at the sudden fullness. “There she is…. Theres my girl…. Let me hear you, baby.” He grunted out the words between each hard thrust.
He felt himself fast approaching his edge and needed to get you there with him. He slowed his movements to try compose himself. He grinned and grabbed your handheld shower head. “Hmmm, what’s this. It’s got a pulse setting. You ever use this on yourself, babygirl?” he asked playfully.
Of course you had used it before; you had been painfully single for the last year. You wanted to bring your thoughts to his attention; but you were cut off when he brought the spray directly to your sex. The feeling of the pulse setting alone is intense enough on its own. Add in the feeling of his free arm wrapped around your waist, his lips on your neck, and his cock pounding into you; that was enough to send you careening towards your own orgasm.
This time, you came screaming, much to Mishas delight. He followed you with a shout of his own. You both just stood there for a moment to catch your breaths as the handheld shower head was left dangling and momentarily forgotten.
Misha came back to reality faster than you. He slowly slipped out of you and used the rapidly cooling wanted to rinse you both off. He turned off the water and helped you out of the shower before scooping you up, bridal style, and carried you back to your bed.
“Ew, my pillows going to be a wet.” you whined sleepily.
Pulling the blankets up over your cooling bodies, he chuckled at your complaint. “You were the one who insisted on the shower. That’s on you.”
“You were the one that fucked me into a such boneless state that I couldn’t dry myself off properly.” you yawned out. Even with your wet hair, you managed to get comfortable snuggled in close to Misha. “I guess I can complain too much about that though.”
He chuckled and pulled you in tighter. “You’re welcome for that.” He kissed your wet hair and smiled at the situation. A little over a year ago, his world all but fell apart. Now, he had you back and he was never letting go. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m never walking away from this, from you, ever again. And I’m not going to let you either. Happy Anniversary, Y/N, I love you.”
You would have cried if you weren’t so tired. You felt the same way he did. You were never letting go either. The last year had been hard and you’d need to talk to him about it at some point. But, not right now. Right now was all you could ever wish for. Of all the things you could say to him in that moment, the only thing you could muster was a sleepy “I love you too, Misha.”
—————
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First Impressions and Second Chances (part 5)
Summary: He never thought he’d get a second chance with you. Life didn’t work like that and it wasn’t something he’d been counting on. But now, being here with you at his side, he felt like he couldn’t thank the universe enough. He wasn’t going to screw it up this time.
Words: 1,619
Misha x Reader
Warnings: none
Notes: Enter Jared and Jensen! This part is more of a filler for the next, but I hope you guys still enjoy it. Next part has been drafted and will be posted mid next week, so you won’t have to wait as long for this one! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :)
Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>
You were fiddling with the picture in your hands when you saw someone’s feet approaching. Looking up, you saw Jared standing in front of you, a smile on his face.
“Hey, you ready?”
“I’m not really sure what I should be ready for, but I guess so.” You smiled nervously and stood, following Jared and Jensen down the hall. You paused at the elevator, Jensen pressing the button to go up. You stood around for a bit, if not awkwardly, not saying anything to each other. Jensen finally broke the silence.
“So, you having a good time at the convention?”
You looked at him, smiling. “Yeah, it’s been really fun. Got my picture with you guys, I attended Briana and Kim’s panel and before that I saw Misha’s panel-” you trailed off when you registered what you’d said. You cleared your throat and looked down at your feet. “Yeah, it’s been good.”
Thankfully the elevator doors opened at that moment, and the guys didn’t press you further. You all entered the elevator and went up a floor, exiting and walking down the hallway. This floor was emptier of crowds, but the occasional fan stopped to say hi. Jared and Jensen led you to a room at the end of the hall and let you in, following behind. There was a couch and a few chairs inside, along with a small table, TV, and mini fridge. You sat down tentatively on the couch, setting down your bag and folding your arms on your lap, waiting. What was it you were waiting for?
“Can I get you something to drink?” Jared walked over to the mini fridge, shooting the question over his shoulder.
“Uh, sure. Water is fine.”
He retrieved a water and two beers from the fridge, handing you a water and taking a seat in one of the chairs across from you. Jensen pulled the other one so that he was sitting next to Jared.
You shifted nervously in your seat, waiting for someone to tell you what was going on. Jensen cleared his throat, if not to relieve some of the tension in the silent room. “So I guess you’re probably wondering how we know who you are.”
You laughed nervously. “Yeah, it crossed my mind to ask.”
Jensen smiled, and you felt much more at ease. “Well, earlier I thought I recognized you from somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then when you told us your name, I remembered: Misha has this picture in his wallet, I saw it one day when we were out for lunch. It’s him when he was younger and this girl sitting on a porch, laughing and smiling. I asked him who it was and all I got out of him was, ‘an old friend.’ Later I swiped his wallet when he wasn’t looking and turned it over, on the back was written ‘Me and Y/N, summer 2002.’ That’s you, right?”
As he was talking, you could feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes. Now as Jensen finished speaking, you laughed softly, trying not to cry. “Yeah, it’s me. I remember when that picture was taken, too.” You sniffled a bit, barely keeping the tears at bay. “It was the day before I left for college. We spent that whole day together. He’d taken me out for lunch and to see a movie, then we walked around town for a while, just talking. We grew up here, you know?” You looked down at your hands, playing with the bracelet you wore. “We went back to my place afterwards and sat on the porch for hours, laughing and just having a good time. His mom took that picture.” You wiped a stray tear that fell down your cheek with the back of your hand. “Funny how things change over the years.” You began to feel the tears come more freely now.
Jared got up and grabbed a box of tissues from the table, sitting next to you on the couch and handing them over. You thanked him, taking one and wiping your eyes.
“Thanks.” You were crying for a bit after that, until Jared broke the silence.
“You know, he still talks about you sometimes.” You looked at him, curious. “Not directly to us, but sometimes he’ll mumble something under his breath when we’re somewhere or doing something, like ‘Y/N loved Italian food,’ or ‘Y/N would have loved this.’ I actually don’t even know if he realizes he’s doing it.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “Sorry, I just have a hard time believing that I even crossed his mind during all these years.”
Jensen furrowed his brow. “You mean you talked at all since that day?”
You huffed a humorless laugh. “This is the first that I’ve seen or heard from him in 15 years. I just happened to run into him yesterday morning.” You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly. “Literally.”
Jared and Jensen shared a look and you frowned. “What, what is it?”
Jensen ran a hand over his face. “It’s not our place to talk. You should just talk to Misha.”
“He’s not going to tell me anything.” You sighed. “I’ve already tried that route and all I got out of him-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to talk about it. “Look, I know he wants to fix this. I know he does. But he’s not talking to me. At least, not in the way I want him to.”
Jared sighed, adjusting on the couch so he was fully facing you now. “What do you want to know?”
“Jay-” Jensen started but Jared cut him off.
“There are things that Misha needs to tell her. But that doesn’t mean she can’t know what’s been going on in his life these past 15 years.” He turned back toward you.
You immediately opened your mouth to speak, but Jared wasn’t finished. “And before you ask, I can’t tell you why he hasn’t said anything in so long. Even if I wanted to, it’s not something he ever told us.”
You sighed, nodding. It was probably something Misha should explain, anyways. “Ok. Well, how’s he been? For the amount of time you’ve known him for, that is.”
Jared shrugged. “I mean, great. He loves his job, and he loves the fans. Conventions have always been one of his favorite parts about being on the show.
“That and trying to embarrass us every chance he gets.” Jensen chimed in with a chuckle.
That earned a smile from you, familiar with Misha’s antics. You had been the victim of most of them growing up.
The three of you talked for a while, about working on the show and some about their lives. Never in a million years did you think you’d be here, sitting in a room with Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, talking like you were best friends. You were really having a good time with them, and they seemed to like talking to you too.
Eventually, Jared looked at his watch and stood, motioning at Jensen. “We're doing a meet and greet here soon, so we should probably head out. But you're welcome to stay in here,” he added when he saw you begin to stand. “The only other person who uses this room is Misha and he should be back soon, so if you wanna talk…” He trailed off, waiting for your response.
You sat back down, mulling over the thought in your head. Jensen seemed to sense your inner struggle and walked over to you.
“Hey, don't worry about it. Hang around if you like, if not, we're not pressuring you. But do give him a chance eventually.”
“Thanks. And I will.” You smiled as Jensen pulled you into a brief hug, much more personal than the one he'd given you earlier. Jared also gave you a quick squeeze before the two of them left, and you were alone.
You still weren't sure what you were going to do. Should you try and talk to Misha now? After talking with Jared and Jensen you felt like you owed him a chance to explain himself, but it still felt too soon after you saw him that morning.
Your decision was made for you before you could give it any more thought, when the door handle clicked open. You quickly stood from the couch as he walked in.
Misha closed the door and looked up, noticing you standing there. His facial expressions quickly changed from surprise to joy, then to confusion.
“Y/N. What are you doing in here?”
You smiled nervously. “Jared and Jensen told me I could wait here for you. I hope that's ok.”
Misha shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a few steps towards you, but still keeping some distance. “You've been talking to them?”
“A bit, yeah. They said you still have that picture of us.”
He smiled, retrieving his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out the picture, handing it to you. Taking it, you smiled at the well kept condition of the picture. You handed it back to Misha and he took a seat in one of the chairs, and you on the couch.
“We used to be best friends, you know.”
“Don't think I forgot that, Y/N.” Misha wouldn't meet you eyes as he spoke in a low tone, as if he were afraid speaking too loud would scare you off. “Which is why I've decided to tell you.”
You took a step towards him. “Tell me what?”
“Everything. Like I said earlier, you deserve to know.” He finally looked up to meet your gaze. “So, where should we start?”
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