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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

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this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

#cockles ask #sexuality spec #jensen is bi #anti rps for ts #cockles #liz answers #ok i have to admit it is crazy i have retained all this info #i hope someone appreciates it #my analysis #mine

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hansoulo · 4 years

Text

thread count

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Warnings: liek… cursing? mentions of nightmares. bed sharing. the works.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: posting this at noon bc im tired of staring at it in my drafts 🤡also i recognize that star wars decided glass is called transparisteel but given that it’s a stupid ass decision i’ve elected to ignore it. enjoyyyyy :)

“No.”

“Mando-”

“No.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your rucksack dropping to the floor with a heavy thud as you flopped back onto the bed. The one, single bed.

“It’s too late to go anywhere else, alright? We’re basically stuck here. Let’s just make the best of it, okay?” He grunted at this, still standing at the doorway gripping his disintegrator rifle. “Drop the ‘tude, tin can. Could be worse,” you mumbled as you reached to wipe a hand over your face, sinking into the soft sheets.

It was kinda nice, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept on a real mattress, with real pillows and blankets that didn’t feel like sandpaper. The inn owner was sweet, a wizened old woman who’d only smiled when you asked if there were any rooms available. Just the one, she had said. Down the hall.

This was ridiculous.

The Mandalorian stepped forward, closing the door with a large hand on the rusted knob. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was a far cry from your usual, less than ideal sleeping arrangements, so you relished in the feeling of the pillows beneath your back before propping yourself up on one elbow, eyelids already drooping as you watched him. He looked… awkward. If you had any more energy, you’d probably laugh. “I could- ” he cleared his throat, setting the rifle against the wall, “I could sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed as you reached down to pull off your boots, throwing them haphazardly into a corner. You’d helped him with the occasional bounty for years, and known him for longer than that. You could share a fucking bed. Besides, it’s not like anyone else was around to see. Minus the baby of course, but it (he? she?) didn’t really count, right? It was already sleeping. “It’ll be fine.”

“No, I’m going to just-”

“Mando,” you glared, standing up. “If you sleep on the floor, you’re gonna be even more of an ass tomorrow morning. Just do us all a favor,” you waved a hand towards the baby in its pod, “and get over yourself, alright?” You reached down to the hem of your top, tugging it above your head before you heard him make a low, distorted sound - probably a cough, but the modulator made those kinds of things hard to tell. Left in your undershirt, you crouched down to stuff the fabric - dusty and soiled from a day of travel - back in your bag. “What?”

He shifted on his feet, his helmet ducking slightly at the sight of your exposed skin. “Oh c’mon,” you groaned, your expression teasing. “You stabbed a guy with a serving fork yesterday, Mando. I don’t think this could be any worse.” If you could see underneath his helmet, you’d be willing to bet he was blushing. Funny, how that worked. How he worked.

The bedsprings creaked underneath your weight as you laid down again, pulling the blankets out from their tucked corners. The window on the other side of the room lay open, bringing in a chill that had you drawing the covers tighter around your shoulders. “Could you close the window?” you whispered, tracking the glint of beskar through half-closed eyes as he complied with your request. His armor reflected orange light - dim and flickering from a small lamp hung beside the door - before it was snuffed out by a gloved hand. You let out a quiet thanks, not bothering to fight the exhaustion dragging at your mind as he stood above you. “I’m going to sleep,” you mumbled, turning on your side to face the wall. “Do what you want.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

Flat, white light crackled across your vision and you opened your eyes with a groan. You could hear rain beating against the windowpane, glass rattling with every new roar of thunder in a way that had goosebumps erupting across your arms. It was dark outside, inky and fogged over save for the few flashes of lightning that cast the room in sharp relief. You didn’t really mind the storm - you usually liked them - but something about the way it sounded had you on edge. It was a bitter kind of rain, unrelenting and loud and really, really cold. Bracing yourself on your hands, you lifted your head, only to knock it against the edge of something metal. “Ow what the fu-” Oh. Oh.

He hadn’t been next to you before - no, you would’ve remembered if he had - but now... now he was. Next to you. And he… had a hand on your hip and- and you were still facing away from him but you squirmed, feeling the weight of his arm on your waist, heavy and slack. No gloves. No vambrace. No pauldron. Just… the helmet. No shit, bantha-brains. The Mandalorian let out a breath, the sound low and seeping syrup in your bones. Was he still asleep? Maybe you should- “Stop moving,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your words thick with sleep. “M’just cold.” It was a half-truth. You were cold, but the fact that you were pressed up against one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy probably didn’t help either. Neither did the fingers digging into your hip. Or the arm tucked underneath your neck. Or the hand attached to said arm that was skimming across your collarbone, seemingly unaware that it was touching anything at all. He drew you in closer and you could feel his legs slotted into yours, your toes brushing the bare skin of an ankle (that didn’t belong to you) before your scattered thoughts were forced elsewhere.

“Then why’d you take off your shirt?” he mumbled. The rain pounded a rhythm in your head, lulling you down and allowing yourself to sink back into his arms. You didn’t really want to think about tomorrow morning. If things would be weird. There was a chance neither of you would remember this when you woke up, though, so it’s not like it mattered. Even if you did - if he did - you knew it was all business.

“Hm?” you said, tucking your chin and scooting back slightly. Your back met the hard planes of his chest, his skin hot and thrumming even underneath the thick material of his shirt. The man was like a fucking space heater. Ha. Space heater. Funny. You were funny. And tired. And- wait did he ask you something?

“Why take off your shirt if you’re cold?” he repeated. The last word trailed off as a palm moved across the expanse of your stomach, his thumb rubbing circles across the raised seam of your undershirt and burning the skin beneath.

“I wasn’t cold then,” you huffed, reaching a hand over his and guiding it below the thin fabric until it rested still on your sternum. A better version of you, more awake and with more critical thinking skills - with the power of thought in general - would probably kick you for using the Mandalorian like a fucking hot water bottle, but that didn’t really matter. You were cold - and exhausted and laying on a bed that was very, very comfortable - and he was warm. You couldn’t really be expected to take any responsibility for this. “Plus, the shirt was dirty,” you added, only dimly registering how your fingers laced with his, tracing battered, scar-shiny knuckles in your half-sleep. He hummed and leaned forward, the metal of his helmet rounding smooth against your hair.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, his breathing falling back into tandem with yours as you felt your eyes fluttering shut. “Go to sleep.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

“Mando, wake up. Wake up, please.” Your voice was tremulous as you shook his shoulder, stretched over tight with desperation and knocking against the walls of the room. Your plea bounced back hollow, a high, unrelenting tone that made your ears ring. Everything was caving in on itself, crumbling slow and then all at once in a way that had the sweat on your temples icing over. You weren’t a child anymore. You shouldn’t have nightmares. “Please.”

He sat up quickly, a hand bolting out to the blaster tucked underneath his pillow and aiming steady at the enemy that had yet to show itself. “Is someone there?” he asked, graveled over but still frighteningly alert. A light sleeper, you supposed.

You shook your head, wet tracks crackling on your cheeks as you spoke. “No, no one. It’s fine.” He relaxed at this, setting the blaster down at his side. His palms were dry when they came up to your face, slightly calloused but still soft as they traced over the rolling tears.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you whispered, meeting the dark slit of his visor before ducking your head. “It’s nothing, I-” you sniffed, swallowing the air that was caught in your throat. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Hey,” he called out, hesitant and a bit unsure. “You okay?” You nodded, closing your eyes in an attempt to clear your vision before opening them a few moments later. The Mandalorian only stared, his helmet tilting with a cock of his head.

“Just nightmares,” you said when he remained quiet. “But they aren’t normally this bad.” The remains of a sob fragmented beneath your ribs, bubbling up in a wet cough that burned your throat. His hands came to rest at your back, flat and steady against your spine until your breathing evened. “I’m sorry,” you repeated after a few minutes.

The Mandalorian let out a quiet noise, gruff and a bit pained-sounding. “It’s okay,” he said, his fingertips pressing softly into your shoulder blades. You could only just hear him through the storm outside. “I get them too.”

You faced the beskar, gaze searching for the eyes you knew were looking at you and finding nothing but darkness. It was enough, though. To know he was looking. “You do?”

“Every night.” A beat passed before you hiccuped again, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s still late,” the Mandalorian whispered, his hands gentle as they reached around your shoulders. You let him pull the covers over you, feeling his words soak into your back. “Let’s just go to bed.”

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #sw fanfiction #the mandalorian oneshot #din djarin oneshot

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waywardxwords · 3 years

Text

Whole Again

Summary: When Crowley is holding your family hostage, you jump into gear to try to rescue them. You feel angry as Dean insists you need a plan before rushing in. Your feelings are overwhelming, especially when you realize why you’re feeling the way that you do. You just want to feel whole again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings: Violence, blood, vomiting (not too detailed), severe sadness/despair, swearing, and fluffiness (bc I don’t know any other way lol)

The engine of your 1969 Mercury Cougar roared against the asphalt as you drove down some one-lane highway in the middle of some rural town in Kansas. You pressed your foot even further on the accelerator, not minding the speed limit. You didn’t care; there wasn’t enough time.

Your eyes watched the path in front of you, bathed in the light from your headlights. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your cell phone screen light up—the buzz from it vibrating, slightly noticeable against the vinyl seat upholstery.

Without even looking at the ID, you knew who it was. You reached for the device and slid to answer—this was the fifth time he had called. He wasn’t going to stop until you obliged. “What?” You barked into the receiver of the phone.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean Winchester breathed into the phone. “You have to turn around. We need a plan. You can’t just barge in there.” You could tell he was doing everything he could to remain calm and collected; must be nice, you thought to yourself. He doesn’t have a horse in this race, so of course he wants to play it safe.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Dean,” you spat back. Your eyes blurred from the angry tears that had pooled there. You blinked—hard—to will them away. Instead, they escaped through the corners of your eyes and trailed down your face. You didn’t care.

“Dammit, Y/N,” all bets were off, and Dean had returned to his angsty, gruff self. “This is a trap, and you know it.”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Of course, it’s a trap, Dean! But what the hell am I supposed to do?! You tell me what you would do in this situation if it were Sam,” your words dripped with bitterness, but again—you didn’t care. The emotions in you ranged from anger to annoyance to disappointment—you had trusted him, and now you felt like a fool.

“Y/N…” he trailed off.

“Exactly. You can’t tell me, because you would be doing exactly what I’m doing,” there was a fierceness behind your words that Dean hadn’t heard before. “You made your choice to stay. And you know what? That’s fine; that’s on you. I don’t even care anymore,” you tried to make your voice sound strong and sure. You wanted him to believe every word, even though you knew there was no truth to it. You did care. You cared so much it hurt physically.

“So what are you gonna do, then? Just walk in there, guns blazing? Hope you can take out a few demons before Crowley puts you out of your misery?” If he had been hurt by the words you had said, he wasn’t showing it.

You blinked against the tears a few times; the grip of your left hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m going to give him the tablet.” You pulled the phone away from your face and quickly hit ‘End’ before tossing it back on the passenger seat beside you.

-----

You weren’t sure how long it had been, exactly. You couldn’t be sure how many times you had lost consciousness at this point, but it was certainly more than once. You blinked against the darkness; your hands still secured behind your back. The ropes were still tied firmly around your ankles, making it impossible for you to budge.

Eyes closed tightly, you tried to remember what had happened—how you had gotten here. You were certain you could’ve used the tablet as leverage. Crowley would accept the tablet and in return, he would release you and your family—unharmed, back to normal.

“Ah, she’s awake,” a bright light snapped on overhead—it blinded you for a moment. You blinked against it, aggressively squinting to make out Crowley and two men in suits. Your jaw tightened as you struggled against the ropes on your wrists. Bile crept from the pit of your stomach up towards your esophagus; it burned the base of your throat. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Where are they?” You found your voice. You were disappointed by how weak it sounded. You had been hurt—you could feel the leftover gashes in your skin. Your face felt tight, so you knew there had to be dried blood there.

Crowley looked around the warehouse as he played dumb. “Who? Mummy and Daddy? Your baby sister?” He asked coyly. You grinded your teeth, your jaw ached from the pain. It wasn’t even the physical pain. The pain in your chest as you assumed the worst about your family.

“Y/N?” You heard a soft voice come from behind you. Crowley took six steps towards you and strongly lifted your chair to turn you towards the voices. There in front of you were three different racks, of sorts. You imagined these were like the racks in Hell—the racks that Dean had described in painful detail one night when you both had gotten carried away drinking.

On the first one, your father. His arms pulled back to each corner of the rack; his legs tied in the same fashion at the bottoms of the rack—spread out like an ‘X’. His head was down, and you knew he was unconscious. Blood dripped from his head—a pool of crimson red forming below him on the concrete floor. He had wounds all over his body. You couldn’t make out what was cut versus blood from other injuries.

On the second, your mother. She seemed to be awake, but barely. Her eyes were tiny slits—squinting towards you. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized she was trying to determine if you were real or just a figment of her imagination. Blood caked her hair—it had already matted in places. Her body was leaning forward, pulling her away from the rack. Your eyes were drawn to her wrists, which were being cut by the cuffs around them as gravity pulled her body forward.

And then the third rack—the rack with your baby sister. She was only two years younger than you, but you still referred to her as your baby sister. She was the one who had called your name out. She, too, was strung up just like your parents. But her core muscles allowed her to hold herself up. You could tell she was terrified—the panic made her arms move and pull at the cuffs holding her against the rack. She writhed against the metal. It made the bile bubbling like boiling acid in your stomach unavoidable. In a quick motion, you leaned to your right and your entire body heaved.

Crowley looked down at the floor, a grimace pulled over his face. And in one quick motion, his hand slapped across your face. It was such a hard slap, you were certain you had the outline of a handprint in its wake. “You dumb bitch, you yakked on my shoes!”

Your eyes glazed over; you didn’t care about the pain, or the smell of the bile. You couldn’t get past the smell of blood, and the way your sister looked at you. “Y/N,” she repeated, this time she choked out a sob. “W-What’s happening?”

Before you could speak, Crowley moved towards her. “Your sister,” he started as he paced in front of her rack. “…let’s just say she has poor decision-making skills. She had a choice,” he glanced back at you as he continued. “And she chose a Moose and a Squirrel.”

Your sister looked confused, and you didn’t blame her. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, but only for a moment. Your memories began to come back. “Crowley, I gave you the tablet! What more do you want from me?” You sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it.

In just a few swift steps, Crowley was back in front of you. The breeze from his speed made you blink as he held onto the armrests of your chair and leaned as close to your face as possible without touching. “I WANTED THE WINCHESTERS!” He screamed.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes again. “They aren’t coming!” You screamed back. “I told you, I came here alone.”

Crowley stepped back once more and it was then that you realized he had a blade in his hand. “And that’s why we’re here, puppet. That’s why we’re all here. Mummy, Daddy, little sister…”

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked slowly—so slowly, you felt like he could almost be moving backwards. It sounded so far away as you heard your sister scream. Was he really walking that slowly, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Your sister just kept screaming over and over again—blood curdling. You realized your eyes had glazed over again and you weren’t even seeing clearly. And that was when one of Crowley’s pawns put his hands on your head and turned it towards where Crowley stood in front of your sister.

You watched. He took the blade in his hand and drove it straight into her gut—her eyes were widened in horror, her mouth agape. Blood began to slowly flood her mouth and drip down to the floor. Her body was no longer able to hold her against the rack, and she fell forward—only caught by cuffs that wrapped her wrists and ankles.

“You can thank your big sis for that,” Crowley muttered loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, he twisted the blade completely until her head fell forward and you knew she was gone. He pulled the blade out and with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he wiped it down. “Are we having fun yet?” He turned back to you with an evil smile spread across his lips.

Your heart pounded so hard against the wall of your chest, you were certain it would thump right out of your body. But yet you wouldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. For the first time in a long time, there were no heroes. There was no saving.

One by one, Crowley made it down the line. Putting your family out of their misery. You winced with each slice—you believed something in you to be broken, as you couldn’t get out a reaction. But then you realized your face was wet, and you thought you could hear your own voice echoing off of the concrete walls of the warehouse. Maybe you were screaming, after all.

And finally, Crowley sauntered over to you. Your eyes felt heavy—like you were tired. You summed it up to a combination of the blood loss and watching your entire family be slaughtered while you sat there, unable to move.

You closed your eyes as he stood in front of you. You waited…would there be pain? Was there really a bright light? Would a Reaper come for you?

Crowley cleared his throat in front of you, causing you to open your eyes. “Here’s the deal, love,” he looked down into your eyes. “I’m going to let you sit here and stew in your own juices. I want you to feel the pain…just watching your family’s meat suits rot. And when the Winchesters inevitably show up, you tell them Crowley would like a word.” He whispered the last part so close to your ear it made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared into thin air.

And so you sat there.

Screams fell from your lips, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes were forced to look at the bodies—this blood was on you. Your family’s blood was on you. You couldn’t save them. You could pray to Cas, but you didn’t want to. You hoped more than anything you had ever hoped for before that your blood would seep out onto the concrete floor around you, and a Reaper would come for you. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would be Tessa. She seemed pleasant…for a Reaper, anyway.

You closed your eyes. It was better than the alternative.

-------

You blinked. Once, twice…three times. Voices, you heard voices again. You had come to accept that it was your mind playing tricks on you—hallucinations, you assumed. Probably from the blood loss.

“Hey, Y/N…you hear me?” Someone was in your face. Your hallucinations were…touching you? That didn’t seem right. Then again, you had never been on the edge of death before. So you guessed it could be possible. “Sammy, she’s waking up.”

The Winchesters? You were on the brink of death and your mind decided to hallucinate the Winchesters?

Your eyes were thin slits at this point—sunken in. Your hair was matted with blood, but you felt their hands on your face, your head, your torso. Someone—Sam, you thought—had his fingers working quickly on your wrists.

“Go…away…” you muttered in between raspy breaths. You tasted blood—you weren’t sure if it was from a strand of hair that had slipped in between your lips, or if you had internal bleeding that was making its way up your throat. You didn’t care.

“Y/N, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Dean said as he tried to keep eye contact with you. “Cas!” He practically growled. He looked up to the ceiling—waiting.

A bright light surrounded you in the room—standing before you was Cas, trench coat and all. Your eyes lulled back again, you anticipated to pass out once more. You felt arms around your middle and your head cradled in a shoulder—you knew that shoulder. It belonged to Dean.

“Fix her…please,” you felt the rumble in his chest as the words fell from his lips. You knew you weren’t lucid, but you could have sworn you sensed a hint of begging. The Dean Winchester you knew didn’t beg.

“Don’t,” even in your haze, the word slipped between your lips.

“Y/N,” Cas approached you carefully. His eyes moved over you as he assessed the damage. “If I do not heal you, you will die.”

You remained silent. Cas looked between you and Dean. “Cas!” Dean barked once more.

Within seconds, the light was brightening around you—blinding you. You squinted against it. You willed your body to writhe away from him and fall on the nearest blade. But it was too late.

The physical pain suddenly began to fade until it was gone. No open wounds, no more seeping blood. “Her injuries are healed,” Cas explained. “But it will take some time for her blood levels to normalize.” You noticed there was still ringing in your ears, and you felt a bit dizzy. But all things considered, it could have been so much worse. But that made your heart sink.

“Fuck you, Dean,” you muttered as you shoved with all the strength you had at his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes closed for a second. You moved to stand but felt lightheaded. In trying to find your way back to your seat, you almost fell. Dean caught you just before you hit the ground. “Alright, Speed Demon. Take it easy.” With one arm around your back, he dipped the other behind your knees as he lifted you bridal-style. “Dean Winchester, put me down right now,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“I can throw you over my shoulder, if you want,” he smirked. The smirk…you wanted to slap it off of his face. It took everything in you not to.

“Put…me…down,” your teeth were so gritted now you thought they might break. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” You shoved at his chest and managed to wiggle from his grasp. He held his hands up in defeat. You slowly made your way to the exit of the building and realized it had started to rain.

The gravel was wet. You were thankful it was gravel, your shoes seemed to grip it a bit better. One slow step at a time, you passed the Impala and just kept walking. The darkness was overwhelming as you moved away from the yellow street light positioned just outside the warehouse and kept moving. You didn’t know where you were going. As soon as you hit grass, you fell to your knees. A bubble formed in the pit of your stomach; you felt it roll up your body until it rumbled out of your mouth as a sob.

Your face was wet—a mixture of tears and rain. You heard the gravel shift behind you and knew he was there. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, your knees soaking through from the wet grass.

He didn’t say anything, he just kneeled directly beside you. You saw his head duck as he tried to capture his thoughts.

“Y/N—” you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

“Shove it, Dean,” you cut him off, your words bitter. “Nothing you say…” you mumbled in between sobs. “…nothing you say can fix this.”

He cleared his throat. “I know that,” his voice was a little louder as the rain pelted down around you. The droplets bounced angrily off of the metal roof behind you. He stayed silent. The rain inspired you to pour everything out.

“If you and Sam had come with me,” you shook your head as the tears continued to fall. “It just…we could have stopped Crowley, Dean! We could have done it! Every, fucking hunt you find—I follow you blindly.” You didn’t mean for your words to sound as angry as they did; or maybe you meant every emotion behind them. You didn’t care. “Every time, Dean. I never ask any questions. I trust you and I go.”

Silence.

The only sound that filled your ears was the continued fall of the rain, and your heavy sobs. You managed to turn your head to look at him. You couldn’t be certain, but his face was covered with water—was he…crying?

You had never seen Dean Winchester cry, so you really didn’t know what to make of it. Before you could do or say anything, you felt a sadness in your heart. But it wasn’t from having witnessed your family be brutally murdered before your eyes…no, that was a feeling of despair; the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. This was sadness. Sadness for your friend—the man you had grown to care for, though he didn’t know it.

“Dean,” you started. You were mad at yourself—you were supposed to be pissed off at this man sitting next to you. You should have been seeing red. But you couldn’t. You had to make sure he was okay.

“Y/N, I am so…so sorry,” he breathed out as he wiped at his face. He tried to rid his face of the tears and the rain drops as they mixed together. “I thought that we had time. I thought we could…” he trailed off as you watched his eyes move over the strands of grass in front of you as he searched for the words. “…come up with a plan. I had no idea this would happen.”

Silence again, your eyes closed as more tears slipped through your eyelids. “Of course, you didn’t know,” you finally breathed out. Desperation set in as you realized this wasn’t Dean’s fault. You wanted someone to blame; you didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore. My family is gone; I have no one.” The words fell from your lips as quickly as they entered your brain—you hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud until Dean moved on his knees until he was in front of you and his hands were on either side of your face.

You felt the calloused pads of his thumbs swipe under your burning eyes, his wrists moved to lift your gaze to meet his. “You have us, Y/N. You have…you have me,” he said so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him. “We will always be your family. Always, do you hear me?”

Your eyes scrunched closed as you cried. You brought your hands up to his and held on for dear life. You were grasping at anything at this point; it felt as though you were drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” you mumbled as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him—desperation.

He swallowed and nodded as he pulled his hands back. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with us,” he nodded, like he was trying to convince himself that he truly understood.

“No, Dean…this. Life, how am I supposed to even keep going?” Had you heard yourself speak this way a day ago, you would have been disgusted with yourself and how weak you sounded. But it was different now, and you didn’t care.

“Listen to me,” he reached for your face again—his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not easy, and I get that. The shitty part about life and what we do, is that we lose people. It happens way too often, and it never gets easier,” he said firmly. “But what you’re gonna do is come back to the bunker, get some rest and let us help you.”

The tears continued to fall—at this point, you had no idea how there were any tears left. But you were too tired and weak to fight him. Dean was too strong to fight when you were operating at one hundred percent; there was no way you could fight him now.

His eyes moved between yours as he studied your features. When he realized there was no longer resistance, he stood up from his spot on the grass and leaned down. He scooped you up into his arms—one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. The exhaustion was overpowering as your head hit his shoulder and you closed your eyes. The rain continued to beat against your hot flesh.

Sam opened the passenger door to the Impala while Dean helped you sit up. He grabbed your keys and tossed them to Sam. After closing your door, he had a few words with Sam before getting in the driver’s side. There were no words; just the hum of the engine as Dean drove you back to the bunker.

-----

Back at the bunker, numbness had set in. You had always heard of the Stages of Grief, but you never imagined going through them.

You felt tears bubble again; dammit. You hated crying—everything about it. The emotion, in general, but then also the congestion, the swollen eyes, the overall puffiness in your face. Dean had you on the edge of the bed facing the wall of your room in the bunker, he had just kneeled down in front of you. His eyes looked over your face and you could tell: Dean Winchester was trying to fix you. But there was no fixing this unless he found away to reverse time or bring your family back.

“Hey,” he breathed. His thumb ran small circles over your denim covered knee. “Listen, I know you’re going through it right now…” he trailed off. “But you’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes. You’re cold, you gotta get changed.” You could tell his brain was picking each word so carefully, which wasn’t very Dean Winchester-esque.

You hadn’t realized you were cold until you noticed your body was physically shaking. “I don’t care.” You breathed.

“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered and stood up. His jaw tightened as he tried to control his frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face as he paced around your bedroom, one hand in his jean’s pocket, the other over his mouth, resting on his chin.

“I’m too tired, Dean. I just…I can’t,” you begged the tears to stop falling, but your body wasn’t listening. He turned back to you and you could see the sadness wash over his features.

“Well, will you let me help you?” He asked, calmer now as he realized you were just mentally and physically done.

You shuddered at the thought, but this time it wasn’t from the chill of the air on your wet clothes. This was something much deeper; something that had developed months ago but you had worked so hard to push out of your heart. You didn’t have the will to fight it anymore. You nodded carefully, a small nod—but you had been sure he had seen it.

His eyes watched yours and he nodded; he moved towards the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and an over-sized hoodie. He brought them back to the bed and cleared his throat. You could tell he was trying to keep this as professional as possible—he just wanted to take care of you. Dean put his hand out in front of you and you carefully took it. He helped pull you to your feet so you were standing just in front of him.

“Arms up,” he whispered. You brought your arms up to about your shoulders and winced, a slight pain on your left side just under your breast. Concern covered his face as his forehead creased. “You alright?” He pulled up your shirt and identified the culprit—there was a pretty solid bruise just under your bra. “Dammit, Cas healed you…” he seemed worried.

“To be fair,” you breathed. “There were a lot of injuries to heal. One healing session might not have cut it.”

He nodded in agreement and carefully continued to help you pull off your shirt. You had forgotten that you would be standing in front of Dean with your bra fully visible. The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact. He cleared his throat again—clearly a bit uncomfortable himself. He reached for your hoodie and slid the arms on first before pulling it over your head.

You managed a small smile as your head popped through the hole at the top of the hoodie. “Thanks, Dean.” Your words were soft, and for a moment he thought he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Don’t thank me…” his eyes moved between yours again. “I am just…Y/N, I’ll never stop being sorry.” You could see the pain in his eyes; the guilt.

“Dean, I had no right to blame you,” you shook your head. There they were again—the fucking tears. And that’s when it hit you; it all hit you square in the face. You had been so hurt when Dean wouldn’t go, because you trusted him blindly—because you loved him. You loved him, and you wanted him to love you—to trust you.

“You alright?” He watched your eyes as you contemplated all of this.

You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just…” you hesitated; you weren’t brave enough to confess your findings to Dean. But then again, your mind went back to your family…your loved ones. If you had learned anything tonight, it was that life is short and time is fast—and Dean had even been the one to say it; we lose people. You decided against your better judgment and just went for it. “I think I blamed you because I trusted you, and I wanted you to trust me.”

Dean had his hands on your face once more. “I do trust you, Y/N—”

You cut in before he could finish. “No, I know. But I realized I trust you so much because…because I love you.” Your eyes found his yet again. They darted quickly between his green orbs to try and get a sense for what he was thinking. But you couldn’t read him; you couldn’t tell what was happening in his brain. “And…and I wanted you to love me, too.” You prayed it didn’t sound as pathetic as it felt coming off of your lips; but, no regrets. You didn’t want to regret anything, not after tonight.

Without another word, his lips were on yours. They moved against you feverishly; it was as though he had yearned for this moment just as much as you had, if not more. One hand remained on your cheek, steadying you. The other moved to your hip and slipped under your hoodie, gently grasping onto the warm skin on your lower back to pull you closer.

He pulled back and you felt your chest heave as you came up for air. His eyes danced over yours again, this time reflecting a glint of…hope? Affection, maybe? Passion? You couldn’t be certain.

But then he licked his lips, his eyes traveled between your eyes and your now swollen lips. “I love you, too.” He murmured before his lips slowly caressed yours once more.

And in that moment, you felt whole again.

-------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I meant to finish this yesterday, but the episode last night about broke me in two and I couldn’t write. Please let me know your thoughts!! My reading requests are open (submit via the Ask Me! link on my page). Please re-blog, like, etc.! All mistakes made in this are my own, please don’t re-post anywhere off of Tumblr :)

xx S

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural ff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn one shot #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester

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ziracona · 3 years

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hey zira, what are your hot takes on all of the fo4 companions?

Haha, I don’t know how hot they are, but I can give you a speed run! (Also I am very excited to get this. FO4 was the first open world game I ever played and just the concept of that and the hugeness of the world and branching story & sudden feeling changes towards me in companion characters totally blew my mind, & it still lives rent free in my heart).

Ada, Old Longfellow, and Strong I /still/ haven’t maxed despite having too many hundred hours to want to list on this game—the former bc they were DLC, Strong because honest to god I left him at a nice settlement and then completely forgot about him and remembering that I am the energy in this Ryan O’Flanagan video but abt leaving my super mutant in a tiny settlement alone. I will get there! To max affinity I mean. But anyway, I don’t truly know those three, so my takes are incomplete. So far though, I really like Ada. She is a good girl just trying her best. Fucks me up I can tell her to self destruct. Even though I feel sure she would ignore me, I cannot imagine ever saying that to her. It was really sweet she was willing to forgive the Mechanist and move on with her life. A good girl. Longfellow I am maxing rn (was last time I played anyhow). I enjoy him. Gruff grumpy old man but he seems quite decent and I like his idle banter and when he sings to himself a lot. Seems like he’s had it rough. Strong I liked. He’s wild, and I loved how insane meeting him was, and am worried about him eventually understanding poetry and how that might mess up his sense of world understanding. But he’s a chill dude in his own way and I am glad they gave us at least one nice super mutant.

For the companions I actually do know like the back of my hand, the speedrun:

Nick Valentine: Best man on earth. One of two fictional characters I ever called husband. I would die kill or live for him. I want to be 1/4th the man Nick Valentine is. One of the best characters ever period and I adore literally everything about him. It fucked me up early in game where right after he offered to basically risk destroying his mind to help a stranger look for her son, he asked me how I was doing. First character in the entire game to do that. His first companion dialogue is abt how you’re doing TuT. The man is very kind and forgiving and fair, but knows when the draw the line and take no shit. Emotionally mature, kind, caring, longsuffering. Incredibly damaged and broken by life, but holding on and living kindly and to help others anyway. One of the four most marryablen fictional men I’ve ever seen.

Preston Garvey: Brave, kind, sweet man. I would defend him with my life. He really just wants so bad to make the world better and life has been so hard, but he’s still trying. A beautiful and underrated companion and I would throw hands for him on sight. I adore how he whistles. A true and gentle and loyal friend. Take him to Quincy and let him get his justice it’s what he deserves. People who hate him because he tries to get help helping civilians in that game are weak. I love him so much... please give him enough time to reach max affinity he’s so worth it.

Deacon: *To the tune of You Are My Dad* You are my friiiiend! You’re my friend! (Boogie woogie woogie). Initially, he pissed me off bc he lies all the god damn time, but after we got close enough he actually trusted me, he stole my heart and I would also die for Deacon. He’s a really good person who thinks he’s shit because of who he was on his past. Also him 🤝 Preston: massive survivor’s guilt. They should be friends. Poor Deacon has been the last member of the Railroad like four times, and it’s awful. Help him. Give him love and support. He’s one of my all time faves. Also, Railroad hands down best faction and if you kill them for any reason other than like a walkthrough route video and I ever get the chance I would 100% clock you in the face as hard as I can, like going for losing teeth, and feel no guilt. I know it’s a game and that’s wrong, and I’d be wrong, but I’d still do it. Also, Ryan Alosio (his VA) saw me do cosplay for Deacon once and told me it was great and it filled me with even more love. Anyway Deacon is great. Also, his whole “There are other organisations out there. And, in time, I'm sure they're going to spoon-feed you their own patented form of bullshit. Ignore the verbage and look at what they're doing. What they're asking you to do. What sort of world they'd have you build and how they're going to pay for it.” Is one of the like, two most iconic quotes in all of FO4 & just super good in general.

Hancock: Hardcore badass man but also a good dude and a champion for the people. Man really puts his money where his mouth is and you gotta respect that; another favorite companion for sure. Big fan of the way he stabs a guy for you upon meeting, and is a cool leader who organized his crime and does a decent job actually leading. He works hard to help people and bites back hard. Social justice advocate, dangerous man about town, not afraid to cosplay a revolutionary war hero 24/7 & u gotta respect the no fucks given attitude. A chill dude. Like that he fights the institute, hates the Brotherhood, helps the Railroad, and is friends with Nick. He’s legit af. Also, his VA gives a different answer every time someone asks him about the voice he did for hancock and they’re funny af.

Piper Wright: A cool spunky lady. Lois Lane on the case, kicking butt, and taking name. She’s nice but also hardcore and smart, supportive, fun. A good person. You always get points if you like Nick (which most companions do), and they’re good friends. She’s funny and I love her. A good heart.

Codsworth: He’s great. He’s family. He’s like my...weird brother. Getting to max affinity is heartwarming and also makes my heart go :’-] . Great early-game companion bc he kicks ass and doesn’t need stims to heal. I love getting called by my name and think that was a great feature (well, my PC’s name). He’s a wonderful funky little robot dude and I am so glad he likes me.

Dogmeat: Amazing. A good boy. Doggo of the year. His actor deserved the game award she won. Cute, full of love, and plays with a teddy bear if you give him one. 100/10z

Cait: I like her a lot. She’s been through so much shit, and it makes sense she is how she is. I like they actually gave her an emaciated and messy (though still pretty) design, since she is a drug addict. And that they make her main quest about taking that seriously and wanting to get help, and that she’ll call out the player if they fuck around and do drugs in front of her after she gets rehabilitated. Her relationship to the PC if good is really sweet, and I am a fan. I like that while she’s not sympathetic to synths and thinks they aren’t people, she forgets that every time Nick walks into a room and is like “Oh hey Nicky : )”. She’s a good girl who has been through a lot and still needs time to heal and find herself, but she’s making great strides.

Robert Joseph MacCready: Human disaster (loving). Homeboy a goddamn /mess/ but I love him. He tries so hard to be cool. I love he makes you pay him to come with, then chickens out and gives it back lol. A fool ball of anxiety and bad decisions and what he thinks brovado is. I wish he, Preston, and Deacon would quit fighting, bc I am always like “ :’-] </3 Boys Please” when they swap out, but I love them just the same. He’s doing his best, he’s just stupid and a fool. Like Philip J Fry. Keeping his goddamn soldier toy, which somehow is listed as junk instead of sent to Misc with quest items where it would be fine, safe?parylizes me with fear. I’ve lost 2 hours of gameplay reloading an old save bc I accidentally lost it.

X6-88: A more complex one to answer about. He’s bad, but like, I’m pretty sympathetic to how he got that way. He was created in a lab and had his emotions mostly dragged out of him in intense psychologically damaging training so he would be a weapon and view himself as an object. I was relieved he chose me over the institute even if he wasn’t a fan of the chocie, and think that means there’s a lot of hope for him. Wish he’d chill the fuck out and quit intimidating civilians for 6 god damn seconds, but I like him. I bring him fancy lad snack cakes home from travels all the time, bc Synths are supposed to like them. Really like that he’s the /most/ sympathetic companion towards Danse in Blind Betrayal, even though he should not be programmed for that, and Danse hated him and made it clear any time they interacted.

(EDIT) Curie: I FORGOT HER BABY IM SO SORRY. I like Curie a lot, despite the fact I temporarily forgot she existed. I stg I thought she was in here. Uhhh, okay. Curie: like her character and personality, HUGE un-fan of both the way her desire to get a synth body is to be ‘more real,’ as if Codsworth isn’t a fully realized person while the same robot type she is, instead of just like. Because it would make her happy. ALSO hate how much of a Born Sexy Yesterday she is, even intentionally in not-determinate affinity talks. It’s gross. But her herself, I like a lot. She’s my daughter and I will protect her. She works at The Castle right now as their on-site medic.

Paladin Danse: I know I’m gonna take heat for this but honestly? He didn’t do much for me. I like that he looks and sounds kinda like Buzz Lightyear, and that’s fun, but idk at all why people think he’s so hot. He’s very boring & generic looking to me. Like you’re valid! Taste all be different. But he doesn’t do it for me personally in looks or personality. I don’t at all like, hate him. Or even dislike. Tbh I am fairly neutral on him. It was funny making affinity with him though. Every other companion I had maxed, I liked more and more with each affinity talk. They’d be like “So my dad was a minuteman and died and I want to honor him” or “I just want to really feel like I’m a person, for real, myself, and I am glad I met you, because the good we have achieved together is ours, even if I can’t be sure of anything else,” or “My brother threw the cultural minorities out of our city for clout bc the rich citizens were all racist, and I tried to help—I snuck them food to the unsafe ruins they set up in for weeks, but eventually, they just vanished, and I still bear immense guilt and self-hatred over not having stopped that.” And Danae’s would be like “One time a buddy of mine got kidnapped by super mutants. They turned him into one of them, and they’re all abominations, so I killed him and it made me really sad.” And I was just like “...Oh danse. I really wanted to like you more. But what the fuck.” His relationship to Haylen is sweet though. And ofc I saved him in Blind Betrayal. I blew up the Prydwin so he’s safe now too, and he lives in the garden by my house and tells me how glad he is we’re friends, and I’m p into that. Overall, my feelings on him are not strong at all though.

Porter Gage: Not a fan. Like, I appreciated he helped me kill the old boss, sure. And bc I owed him for that, I went to max affinity to see what there was to him as a person. And like, as far as raiders go, he was okay. But he wasn’t deeply sympathetic, and he’s a slaver, and if you try to liberate the slaves he and the others own, he /will/ turn on and attempt to murder you immediately, no matter how close you were, so he made his choice, and it was to be a bad person and an asshole to the last. Really enjoyed the VA’s work a lot on him tho.

And there you have it 👈👈😎. Thanks for asking!

#ask #anonymous #fallout 4 #fo4 #god I love them so much. I was really proud I kept all the OGs too. everyone but Gage. who had to go but it’s his own choice and fault 🤷🏻‍♀️#GOD far harbor was a good dlc. it’s like the main quest choice again but way more condensed and twice as f ked up. my poor MC had only #come to terms just before with all the lives she took & started healing #doing bad things she did not want to do & knew he would know about and think less of her for doing. but she did them. 😔 bc of course she did #then she had to choose between letting the dude she loved be hurt in a way he wouldn’t recover from & torpedoing her relationship to him by #she loves Nick and if it’s him or her it’s always gonna be her #I was SUFFERING. a lot. but I also loved it #don’t come into my inbox and clown about liking Danse please or Gage. idc at all #like you are welcome to your opinion I’m not gonna try to convince you /not/ to like him. plz do me the same courtesy & respect my right to #have an opinion u may not like

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littlespoonevan · 4 years

Text

in my head i do everything right

listen i know everything will be fine and get fixed but i don’t wanna wait til next week (bc lbr it won’t be fixed next week either probably askdjfs) so for anyone looking for a lil bit of hurt/comfort here’s a post 10x08 fic, resolving everything <3

(also look i know some people have justified the punch and some people think it’s horribly ooc. it’s not mentioned at all in this fic and i kind of wrote it with the idea that it didn’t happen and ian just fell down the steps chasing after mickey in mind. but you can read it either way and it should still hopefully make sense)

word count: 1765

title: supercut - lorde

It’s sheer fucking guilt that makes Mickey bring Ian to the hospital. Not concern, he thinks mutinously, telling himself he’s frowning so much because he’s angry. Because he’s still so fucking angry. He can’t believe he thought- He actually thought-

He thought Ian just wanted him.

The cab to the hospital is tense and silent and Mickey is glad he took the front seat because if he’d sat in the back with Ian he wouldn’t have been able to help himself. He would’ve held Ian or let him rest his probably broken leg in Mickey’s lap or- or kissed him probably like the fucking chump he is.

Ian, for his part, seems to be doing his best to pretend his leg isn’t actually as painful as it must be but Mickey keeps seeing the way he winces when he thinks Mickey’s not looking.

When they reach the hospital parking lot Mickey pays the cabbie and climbs out of the car, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood as he helps Ian out of the backseat. Ian tries feebly to hobble onto the sidewalk on his own but it’s pretty fucking clear he won’t get far without Mickey.

Mickey takes a breath, steels himself and wraps an arm around Ian’s waist, taking Ian’s wrist when his arm drapes over Mickey’s shoulder. And he fucking hates himself because his body still leans into Ian’s warmth.

“I text Lip in the car,” Ian mumbles as they stagger inside. “If you- you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

He looks like a kicked fucking puppy and Mickey needs to get out of here, needs to get out of Ian’s orbit for five minutes so he can think. In the end he lets out a gruff, “I’ll wait until Lip gets here,” and helps Ian up to the emergency room reception.

Ian gets whisked off for an x-ray soon after and Mickey’s glad for a second to breathe and try and organise his thoughts. Of course that’s ruined the second Lip bulldozes through the waiting room door.

“What the fuck happened?” Lip demands as he strides over to Mickey. He’d look a lot more menacing if he didn’t have a newborn strapped to his chest.

“He fell down the steps by the courthouse,” Mickey answers, rubbing agitatedly at his forehead and wishing he was anywhere but here. “Think his leg’s broken.”

Lip goes quiet, eyeing Mickey with a scrutinising look. “Okay, now tell me what happened between you two.”

Mickey huffs, pushing himself up off the stiff waiting room chair. “He can tell you himself. He’s getting an x-ray right now. Doctor’ll call you when he’s out.”

He brushes past Lip, careful not to jostle Fred, and stares at the exit door like it’s his fucking safe haven.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Lip calls after him but Mickey just clenches his jaw and keeps walking.

He needs to get away.

Lip texts him about an hour later.

His leg is definitely broken. They’re putting him in a cast now. Be home in a couple of hours

Mickey pockets his phone and continues his aimless walk around town. Clearing his head hasn’t exactly worked but he doesn’t feel angry anymore. He’s just- hurt. Christ, he really thought they’d do things right this time.

Without meaning to he finds himself circling back towards the hospital. When he realises he’s only a block away he sighs, reminds himself that, yes, he is whipped as fuck, and finally gives into the cloying need in his gut to make sure Ian’s okay.

The lady at the reception must feel bad for him because he’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to tell him what room Ian is in but either way he’s making his way down the corridor a few minutes later. Ian’s door is half open and Mickey can hear Lip’s voice as he steps up to it, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob.

“So you only proposed because of the spousal privilege thing?”

Mickey carefully steps out of view, leaning close to the door to hear Ian’s response.

“No,” Ian insists, sounding resigned. “I mean that’s why I asked him today but not- not the reason I asked at all.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“He didn’t give me a chance!” Ian bursts out and Mickey closes his eyes, tightening his hand on the doorknob to give himself something to hold onto.

There’s a beat of silence and then Lip is talking again. “I don’t know, man, you kind of made it sound the other week like marriage wasn’t even on the cards for you two. What changed besides hypothetically having to testify against each other?”

This is news to Mickey. What the fuck had Ian said to his brother?

Ian laughs but it sounds pained. “I didn’t- I thought it wasn’t. When all that shit happened with Svetlana Mickey acted like it meant nothing and I mean, who the fuck do we know that’s happily married? Even Kev and Vee aren’t technically married. I just thought there was too much negative shit around the word, y’know? Like it was something we’d be better off without.”

Mickey swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling a familiar traitorous burning behind his eyes.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life with him though,” Ian continues and Mickey can almost imagine the rueful smile on his face and it’s too fucking much.

He pushes open the door before he fully realises what he’s doing. Ian freezes, mouth dropping open in surprise when his eyes land on Mickey while Lip goes still on the other side of the room where he’d been rocking Fred in his arms, gaze flitting between the two of them.

When no one moves to speak Lip takes it as his cue to go, patting Ian’s uninjured leg as he passes the bed and slipping out the door.

“I thought you left,” Ian murmurs eventually, looking up at Mickey with too much hope in his eyes and it’s not fair. He fucked this up, not Mickey.

Mickey inhales a breath, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Ian’s lips thin for a moment and Mickey pointedly ignores the glassy look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ian says, quiet but sincere. “I’m sorry I made you think that you being innocent suddenly meant I didn’t want this. I’m sorry I left so many fucking times before that it seemed like it was something I was gonna do again. I’m really fucking sorry, Mick.”

Mickey nods, wetting his lip and taking another halting step into the room. Closer to Ian.

“What d’you want then?” Mickey asks, voice careful and controlled and probably still betraying how he really feels.

“You,” Ian replies quietly.

And that pulls Mickey up short.

“I just want you,” Ian tells him, echoing Mickey’s own internal pleas from earlier with wide, earnest eyes. “I wanna be with you and I wanna marry you if you want to. But I want to do it for us, no extra reasons.”

Mickey swallows down the words he really wants to say and shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid like reach for Ian. “So why’d you stop before?”

Ian looks down at his lap, absently curling his fingers around the thin bedsheet. “Because suddenly we didn’t have to get married and everything I said to you at the diner- I wasn’t lying about any of that but trying to protect you was a pretty big reason for why I was doing it. And I wanted to- I don’t know if that’s how I wanted it to happen, y’know?”

Mickey huffs, taking another step forward and sitting down in the chair beside Ian’s bed. “No, I don’t know. What d’you mean?”

Ian sighs and his gaze turns pleading. “Your last wedding was pretty fucking shit, Mickey, and I just- if we get married I want it to be a good memory for good reasons. I want my family there and Mandy and I want us to fucking celebrate because we finally get to just be fucking happy together. I just- I realised that if we still went through with it today without talking about it it wouldn’t be what we deserve…

“What you deserve,” Ian amends quietly when Mickey stares down at the ground, trying in vain to regain his composure.

He looks up then and he knows his expression has softened, knows he can’t fucking help it whenever it comes to Ian Gallagher. “I’m still mad at you,” he says but there’s no heat behind it.

A smile tilts the corners of Ian’s lips. “That’s fair.”

“But I still love you,” he adds, still not able to help the vulnerable feeling in his chest when he says the words out loud. “And that’s a better fucking proposal than the one at Patsy’s.”

Ian laughs thickly, hand reaching out for Mickey and Mickey’s helpless not to let him, locking their fingers together and feeling something in him settle when Ian squeezes his hand.

“I’m gonna marry you,” Ian whispers. “Just let me do it right.”

“That mean you’re gettin’ me a ring?” Mickey asks wryly, voice too soft to be as teasing as he means it to be.

“’Course,” Ian grins. “I won’t even get it from the pawn shop.”

“You can’t buy my love, Gallagher,” Mickey scoffs, feeling a grin creep onto his face as the tension in his shoulders finally unfurls.

“Not trying to,” Ian denies, pulling their joined hands towards himself so he can kiss Mickey’s knuckles.

“I know,” Mickey whispers.

Ian glances up at him with a familiar smile. It’s the same smile he’s been giving Mickey since he was fifteen and Mickey’s heart is beating too fast and how the fuck does Ian still do this to him?

“Can we get me discharged now so we can go home?” Ian asks then and Mickey suddenly remembers where they are, suddenly remembers Ian’s broken leg. But Ian doesn’t look like he’s pain and Mickey’s so exhausted he feels like he could collapse on the spot so he tries not to dwell on it too much for now.

Instead he stands from the chair, gently pulling his hand out of Ian’s grasp to curl his fingers in Ian’s hair, and presses a kiss to the top of Ian’s head. He closes his eyes when he feels Ian sink into him, breathing him in.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallavich fanfic #my fics

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clockworkrosea · 4 years

Text

911, what’s your emergency? (4)

→ summary: they were dangerous. she knew that, and yet, she continues to hunt them. and this? this is her retribution.

→ pairings: jeon jungkook/fem!reader, kim namjoon/oc

→ warnings: pretty tame compared to my last chapter lmao. mentions of the mafia, mentions of blood, mentions of arson, a couple threats are made towards the reader, mention of injuries, 911 call.

→ a/n: wooohooo no month-long wait :) this one is alright. a little shorter bc a background drabble is also coming out soon.

→ wc: 1.1k

→ disclaimer: this is not an accurate depiction of bts and anyone else mentioned in this fic. this is also not an accurate depiction of seoul’s police department, government, and any other institutions mentioned in this fic.

series masterlist

“Kim Seokjin. I’ll get you medicine, bandages, etcetera. Once we’re done here, of course. Your precinct knows me as Bangtan’s doctor.” So she’d guessed correctly. He didn’t seem exactly like the type to kill, out of all of them.

“Min Yoongi. I burn things. You aren’t excluded from the list of things. I’ve been told I’m the arsonist.” Again, Y/N was right. The twitching hands was the only thing that gave it away. It showed signs of a hyperactivity disorder, common in most serial arsonists. He was probably used to flipping a match between his fingers too, based off his fingers’ movements. She hadn’t seen them before, but small burns were just visible under his jacket.

“Kim Taehyung. I deal drugs. I also usually get paid to kill people. I like chemicals better than blood, blood is hard to get out of Gucci.” Well. Y/N wasn’t usually wrong, but apparently he wasn’t the interrogator. She looked at him again, noting miniscule details that should’ve revealed his affinity for poison. The placement of his clothes, not one hair out of place, indicated the extreme control poisoners often displayed.

“Jung Hoseok. I like to bomb things. Usually I just kill people though. I use knives. Your little team doesn’t like my kills very much.” That was slightly concerning. It meant that they had watched her and her team. Y/N was already here, but she desperately hoped that none of her team would be harmed.

"Relax. Your little investigation isn't going to go anywhere without you, so we won’t be taking anyone else. Or killing them. Besides, we only need you. Anyways, let's hurry this along. Jimin, go." Hannah said, looking at her amusedly. Y/N wondered if she had other emotions. Probably not, but Y/N wasn’t planning on staying around long enough to find out.

"Park Jimin. I don't deal much in death. My official title is consigliere. Most of our intel on you is from me, with thanks to a couple other people.” He’s inconspicuous. Obviously, he was talented at hiding himself, so much so that he'd probably be able to hide himself in a lineup.

“Jeon Jungkook. I’m the interrogator. I’m sure you’ve seen my work.” He’s gruff and intimidating and exactly what she expected. Other than the leaders, this was the one man she wanted behind bars. The countless people who had died to brutal torture were good motivation.

They were criminals, but they were also humans. Y/N’s moral compass is a little too strong to let that fact deter her.

“Kim Namjoon. The other leader. Now that you know all of us, I suppose we should allow you to sleep. Jungkook, show her to her room and keep an eye on her. Either Hannah or I will be around later.” Namjoon ordered. Y/N quickly formed a basic escape plan, in hopes that she would be able to take advantage of the switch. Even if she couldn’t, there was probably a window she could jump out of.

She smiles to herself as she follows Jungkook out of the room.

In her temporary room, she first noticed the window and what was beyond. As far as she could tell, there was a forest outside, which would pose an issue. Y/N knew she still had everything she'd brought with her, so they were extremely confident she wouldn’t escape.

As soon as the door closed, she pried the window open and looked down. It was about a one or two story fall, so she could probably survive and escape as long as she didn’t break any part of her legs. Briefly glancing back, Y/N swung her legs out the window, carefully lowering herself into a hanging position and let go.

Free falling is one of the most terrifying feelings, she thinks.

Y/N bent her knees, making sure to land on the balls of her feet. As soon as she felt her feet touch the ground, she rolled forwards, distributing the impact throughout her entire body. She stopped for a moment, catching her breath as she checked to ensure she wasn’t too injured in any one area. Her spine and neck felt fine, but her ankle was probably strained and she’d probably pulled a back muscle, judging by the pain. Still, she picked up her bag, darting into the forest to avoid being seen by them.

Since Y/N didn’t know where she was, her best bet was probably to call 911 and hope they could find her, somehow. Not to mention she would have to evade them for at least three hours, if not overnight. Speaking of which, she had forgotten to take a blanket, or anything that would keep her warm through the night. Seoul nights were cold, especially since it was autumn, so she might have to head in one way in hopes of finding society.

Y/N glanced back in horror as she heard sounds coming from the house, sounding suspiciously loud. She quickly pulled out her phone, screen slightly broken from her rolling over it, and she dialed 911 with shaking hands. Before they could see her out the window, she ran into the forest, hoping that she’d have enough time to at least finish her 911 call.

“911, what’s your emergency?” Here she was, a police officer, now calling 911 for help. The irony was unbearable. Y/N glanced back quickly before whispering, “I’ve been kidnapped, and I don’t know where I am.”

“Okay. Stay calm ma’am. Do you know who kidnapped you?” Of course she does. However, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take her chances that this operator wasn’t paid off by Bangtan or their associates. Instead, she lied, even if that would increase the amount of time needed to get to her.

“No. I was blindfolded and drugged.” First part, a straight lie. Second part, not so much. The effects of the drug had been strong, considering it was now almost 1am, and the meeting had been at 9pm.

“Alright. We’ll trace your location ma’am, police officers will be there as soon as possible. If you can, please stay on the call.” No, no she couldn’t stay on the call. Y/N heard voices approaching her hiding spot, so she would have to be on the run.

They’re annoyed. Neither leader nor the rest of the group are sure how Jungkook had overlooked the window. Now that he had, they’d have to spend time searching for the girl, instead of sleeping, like most of them wanted to do.

It's an embarrassing oversight.

Hannah sent Jungkook out first while the rest tracked her phone down and called around to contain the police response. Jungkook grumbled as he walked out, clearly unhappy. He slunk through the forest, carefully listening for any sounds that would indicate where the girl was. It was only a couple minutes before his phone vibrated slightly against his leg.

She hasn’t gotten far.

→ tagged: @btstxtgenre

→ a/n: i think this one is a little less confusing? anyways hope you enjoyed :) questions are always welcome. keep an eye out for the background drabbles, they’ll be released as the new chapters come out 👀👀👀. feedback is always welcome !!

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wazzupmrstark · 5 years

Text

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Five || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I know it hasn’t quite been a whole week since I posted Part 4, but there are a few new faces around here and I wanted to get another part up asap!!

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, injury, angst y’all already know what the fuck is going on

What I listened to while writing: this italian music playlist on Spotify bc...Italy

Word Count: 3.9k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

After what felt like an eternity Tom’s voice broke the silence. “Are we really doing this?”

“Do we have another choice?” you asked.

“Not that I can think of,” he sighed. You felt him roll towards you on the bed. You stiffened even further. “We’re adults, this shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”

“Are you talking to me or yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just try and get some sleep, Tom. You’re filming for thirteen and a half hours tomorrow.”

“God, do you ever turn it off?”

You had the urge to turn towards him so that you could see his face, but you resisted. It felt too intimate, like if you did you’d be crossing some invisible line that you couldn’t come back from. So you stayed on your back, hoping he couldn’t read your expression in the dark. “What do you mean?”

“The handler, do you ever turn it off? Like when you close your eyes do you just see excel spreadsheets and schedules? Are you ever a normal person, or are you always this anal about everything?”

That stung. Just when you thought you had established some sort of understanding Tom had to be an asshole again. You heard Tom inhale sharply, probably regretting how harsh he sounded, but no apology came. You didn’t respond and bit your lip, trying to fight off angry tears that were threatening to fall.

You rolled out of bed, pillow in hand.

“Where are you going?” Tom asked when he felt the weight on the bed shift.

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” you replied bitterly.

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” he said and you scoffed audibly. “No, that’s not how I meant it. I, I’m sorry! Just, you-”

“Don’t worry about it, Tom,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. “You’re my boss, we shouldn’t share a bed anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You felt Tom’s eyes on you as you moved around the hotel room. You didn’t know what was going through his mind, but he didn’t say anything. You found extra blankets and even more pillows in the closet that you laid on the floor next to the bed. The floor was hard, like you’d anticipated, but what you hadn’t been expecting was how cold it would be. The carpet must only be a thin layer over a hard slab of concrete. With a huge exasperated sigh you sat up and crawled over to your open suitcase to put on a sweatshirt.

“Y/N, come back to bed.” Tom’s voice was gruff with fatigue.

You fought a shiver. Those words, in that tone, without context, sounded very sensual. But there was context. Months of it. So you only let it throw you off for a quarter of a second before responding.

“I’m fine, Tom. Go to sleep.”

If Tom had mentioned last night to either his brother or Harrison, they didn’t say anything about it to you. You were all huddled in one of the crew tents with the space heaters, standing behind the monitors watching Tom and Zendaya film a scene in the middle of the street.

Waking up this morning had been hell. You’d been in and out of sleep all night so you were exhausted. You and Tom had both lain awake for hours without speaking to each other. Your back hurt, your everything hurt. You’d been taking Advil all day for the pain in your muscles that was the result of sleeping on the ground.

“Tom’s really off today,” Haz muttered to Harry. “He keeps messing up his lines, and his accent keeps slipping.”

“Yeah I know,” Harry agreed. “I dunno what’s the matter with him.”

“Maybe he’s tired,” you suggested even though they hadn’t been talking to you.

“Said he slept fine,” Harry shrugged.

“Like a baby,” Harrison added and you had your answer about what the boys knew about last night. Not only had he not told them, he’d lied to them. But why? Your face must have given something away because suddenly both of them were zeroed in on you.

“What?” Harry asked. “Did he say something different to you?”

“Uh no, sorry” you lied. You were shit at lying and you might have been able to get away with it with Harry, but Haz had known you longer and furrowed his brows at you with suspicion. “My back just hurts,” not a lie, “I slept on it funny last night.”

Harrison’s expression changed from one of skepticism to one of concern. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No I’m fine, thanks.”

Everyone turned back to the monitors and you breathed a sigh of relief. Tom was still struggling out there and as he fucked up more and more Zendaya would shoot the camera glances like she was on Parks and Rec. A crowd of other crew had gathered around the monitor to watch and all murmured to each other about what was taking so long to move on to the next scene. To your surprise your immediate instinct was to defend Tom to them rather than join in, but you kept your mouth shut. Come on, you thought to yourself, get it together. No one was going to be happy with him if he extended their thirteen and a half hour work day.

After several more takes the scene finally seemed to be going pretty well until Tom tripped on a step and smacked his face onto the side railing. There was an audible ooh from everyone who was watching around you, but you didn’t stick around to hear anything else they had to say because you were already running. Haz and Harry were right on your heels, and they each passed you, but you kept your pace. Every muscle in your body was screaming at you to stop, but you couldn’t, you could worry about your own pain later.

By the time you got over to your boss he was already surrounded by medics and his friends. You stood on the edges of the crowd, trying to see what was going on. He’d hit his head from what you could tell. He looked like he wanted to cry.

You pushed through the crowd and made your way over to him. “Can everyone but the medics move back a little?” you shouted, taking control. You were only half expecting anyone to listen to you, but everyone did and took a few steps back to give Tom more room.

One of the medics ushered you closer and had you crouch down next to Tom. “He blacked out for a second. We’re going to need to check him for a concussion,” he said to you, a little out of earshot of Tom.

You looked at your watch. Filming was already a little behind. “Can you you do that to him here?”

The guy shook his head. “He needs to see a neurologist at the hospital a few miles away. He’s also going to need to rest for a few hours.”

“What’s going on?” Watts asked as he made his way through the crowd. The medic explained the same thing to him. “Fuck me.”

“He’ll be back in a few hours good as new,” the man promised Watts, but he shook his head and turned to you.

“Keep him resting until tomorrow, I’ll push up the scenes with Mysterio to this afternoon instead.”

You bit back a curse. That was going to inconvenience a lot of important people. You hoped they’d be understanding. “Have someone send me the new schedule,” you told Watts then addressed the medic. “I’ll grab his brother and best friend and we can go.”

“Wait what’s going on?” Tom asked the medics frantically as they spoke into their radios and to each other in Italian.

“They’re taking you to the hospital to see if you have a concussion,” you explained when no one else would answer.

“What?” He looked up at you with wild eyes. “No, no I’m fine,” he insisted and started to get up. As soon as he did the medics yelled at him to lay back down until they could get a boat. “I’m fine! I can keep going!” he shouted at them, giving you a desperate look. “Y/N-”

He’d never wanted your help before and it was the one time he did you couldn’t do anything. You felt guilty, but he needed to get to the doctor.

“Tom I want you to get some rest,” Jon said to Tom, crouching down to him.

“No, I can still-”

Watts put a hand out. “Don’t try and be a hero, you’re already playing the greatest one out there. We’re just going to move some scenes around and you’ll be back tomorrow good as new, okay? It’s not worth risking your health over. Take it easy today,” he looked up at you. “Miss Y/L/N, update me throughout the day. Make sure he gets some rest.”

You were a little surprised Jon Watts knew your name but you assured him that you would watch out for Tom. You liked the fact that he cared about his cast and crew. Even though he was upset about the accident and stressed out over rescheduling he hadn’t shown it to Tom because he already knew Tom was beating himself up about it and didn’t want to twist the knife. If you ever got to live out your dream of being a director you hoped you could be like him.

Harry and Haz were allowed to approach Tom after that and you watched them each talk to him. You stood off to the side and saw Tom wipe away tears of frustration and immediately looked away. You couldn’t start feeling sympathy for him now. It was going to effect how you did your job.

The first available boats on the canal were gondolas so Harry and Tom got in the first one with two of the medics while you and Haz got in the second with the other medic. Gondolas were supposed to be romantic. Racing to the emergency room with your boss was the least romantic reason to be in a gondola that you could think of.

You sat in the boat with your head in your hands.

“He’s going to be fine,” Haz assured you. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to him on set before. He broke his nose on Chaos Walking.”

“I know, but this happened on my watch,” you groaned. “Tom is my responsibility.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have anything to do with this. He was just off today and that’s not your fault.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and shut your eyes tight because it very well could’ve been your fault. The fight and the lack of sleep had to at least be contributing factors. Tom had never had an off day like this before. What else could it be?

Tom was checked into the emergency room without much issue and the medics took him back immediately to see about his head. Harry joined you and Haz in the waiting room.

“Typical,” he said and gave half a chuckle as he made his way over to the both of you.

“Figures he’d fuck himself up walking and not doing stunts in the spider-man suit or something,” Haz chimed in.

“Div,” Harry laughed and shook his head.

You couldn’t believe neither of the boys were worried about Tom. From what you seen he’d hit his head pretty hard.

“You alright, Y/N?” Harry asked, noticing how quiet you were.

“Yeah, just a little stressed out.”

“About Tom? He’ll be fine,” Harry said, brushing it off.

“He was crying,” you said softly. “I’ve never seen him cry before.”

Harry cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

“Want anything from the vending machine, Y/N?” Haz asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “I’m going to get some chocolate probably.”

“I’m good.”

“You should eat something,” he insisted. “Keep your energy up.”

“Fine, I’ll have a KitKat if they have them.”

“And if they don’t?”

“A snickers bar.”

He winked a confirmation and headed off around the corner, leaving you and Harry sitting in silence. You weren’t sure how to describe the mood in the room, but it was uncomfortable and dull, like the life had been sucked out of everything. Maybe that’s how all emergency rooms were, but it felt wrong.

Harrison returned with your KitKat a moment later, but the mood didn’t lift. Soon he was sucked into it too. The three of you, sitting in silence, waiting. You realized Haz and Harry had been joking around about Tom because it was their way of coping. They didn’t want to have to think about what might happen if Tom was seriously injured and you didn’t blame them.

You passed the time by talking to your parents and calling the hotel to see if any rooms had opened up. There was still nothing available, but you asked them to let you know when something did. When you hung up Tom was over at the front desk with the boys being discharged.

You walked over and looked at him expectantly. “I’m fine, stop looking at me like that.”

“Fuck off,” you shot back instinctively, completely forgetting that you were still in the emergency room for his head wound. Tom was in the middle of signing papers, but stopped to raise his eyebrows at you. “Sorry. So you’re completely fine?”

“They said if it is a concussion it’s super minor and that I should be fine by tomorrow. I’m just supposed to rest and keep an eye on how I’m feeling I guess.”

“Turns out your thick skull is good for something,” Harry joked and clapped Tom on the back.

“That was a cheap one, mate,” Tom laughed and shook his head at his brother.

Getting back to the hotel was an ordeal because some fans had seen Tom go into the hospital and were an absolute mess waiting outside the emergency room. Upon checking Twitter you saw that someone had tweeted that he’d died and had to stifle a laugh.

Harry and Haz offered to hang out with Tom in his room, but he told them he just wanted to be alone. Fuck, you’d expected to be at work all day and now you had to spend hours alone with Tom. It was early evening and you weren’t supposed to be back until after midnight. The sun had only just started setting. You might have taken a book down to the lobby or to a cafe around the corner except for the Jon had specifically asked you to keep an eye on Tom and make sure he was resting. You’d much rather give yourself a concussion, but followed him down the hallway and to your room anyway.

“There hasn’t been an update with the rooms,” you informed Tom after the door had shut behind the both of you “so we both have to stay in this one again.” He just nodded.

The room had been straightened while you were out. The bed was made and the blanket you’d slept on was folded neatly beside the pillows. You wondered what housekeeping had thought of the odd setup.

Tom immediately flopped on the bed with a groan. “I can’t believe how much of an idiot I am.” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just ranting out loud so you let him keep going. “The entire schedule had to be move around because of me, Marvel is having to pay the hospital bills, I cried in front of the whole cast and crew-”

“Everyone has an off day,” you offered, taking the armchair.

Tom sat up to look at you. “I had an off morning,” he corrected, “the day was a shit show.”

“You’ll look back on it and laugh.”

“Maybe,” he said reluctantly then suddenly threw himself back on the bed dramatically “fuck, going to work tomorrow is going to be so embarrassing.” He covered his face with his hands.

“The only option is to fake your own death.”

He lifted his hands from his eyes. “It’d never work, people know my face.”

“Plastic surgery.”

“My voice.”

“Half the world doesn’t even realize you’re British you’ll be fine.” Then you remembered the tweet you had seen. “Speaking of faking your own death, thirty thousand people on Twitter already think you’re dead so you should either run with it or fix that.”

“What?!” Tom already had his phone out. “You’re just telling me this now?”

“Oh my god, of course everything is always my fault.”

“Social media is literally in your job description.”

“Sorry I must have been distracted by the possibility of you actually dying!”

“You’re being dramatic, I wasn’t fucking dying!”

“You know what I mean! I was worried about you!”

“...You were worried about me?” Tom asked and as quickly as the bickering had started it came to a screeching halt.

“Uh yeah,” you felt sweaty all of the sudden. You had been worried about him...but only because it was the human thing to do. “Without you I don’t have a job, you know.”

“Wow, for a second I actually thought you cared about me,” Tom said with a smile, though it sounded like he was only half kidding.

“Me? Never.”

“Here how’s this?” Tom finished typing and handed his phone to you.

“‘Hey guys, not dead’? That’s it? You don’t want to make it funnier?”

He shrugged. “It’ll still get at least 50k likes anyway.”

“Asshole.” He laughed. “What about something like ‘sorry guys still alive’?” He made an eh hand motion. “Or...’sorry Anthony and Seb I’m still alive’?”

“That’s brilliant.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Go ahead and tweet it,” he said.

“Me?” you asked.

“Yeah, you already have my phone.”

You quickly typed it out and checked for typos before hitting send. It felt oddly powerful tweeting out to 2.5 million people. You wondered if that’s how Tom felt every time he tweeted something

You tossed the phone back to him on the bed. “I’m going to shower,” you told him. “Unless you want to go first?”

He shook his head. “All yours.”

You took the time to shave and wash your hair more thoroughly. This hotel had surprisingly nice shampoo. By the time you were done the bathroom was completely steamed up. Only once your hair was up in a towel did you realize you’d forgotten to bring a new change of clothes into the bathroom with you.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered to yourself.

You could make one of two choices: put the dirty clothes back on or wrap yourself in a towel to go get your pajamas. Well, there was an unspoken third choice which was to go out into the room completely naked, but there was no way in hell that was happening. You decided to be an adult and wrap yourself in your towel to go get the clothes you’d forgotten. You’d just have to play it cool. Maybe Tom would be asleep.

Obviously with your luck he wasn’t. He was watching Baby Driver on cable when you came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Shut up!” you said defensively and clung to the towel tighter.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I forgot my pajamas, okay?” you huffed with embarrassment.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

Your cheeks were absolutely on fire as you rifled around in your suitcase for pjs. When you looked back up Tom was averting his eyes and looking at his phone, but he couldn’t hide the shit-eating grin on his face. So much for playing it cool. You were never going to live this down.

Once you were dressed and had somewhat regained you composure you joined Tom back in the room.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Fine.”

“Are you hungry? We could order room service.”

“Sounds good,” Tom rolled over and snatched the menu off of the nightstand. “What do you want?”

“Do they have spaghetti?” you asked him.

“We’re in Italy.” Tom rolled his eyes. “Yes, they have spaghetti.”

“I can’t read the fucking menu from over here, I didn’t know!”

“Well they have spaghetti, Y/N.”

You ended up both ordering the spaghetti.

By the time the food came the credits to Baby Driver were rolling and Titanic was starting. It was in Italian, but there were English subtitles. You and Tom were sitting on the floor eating your pasta in front of the screen.

“I’ve never seen Titanic,” you admitted.

“Shut the fuck up,” he deadpanned. “It’s a classic!”

“It freaks me out.”

“It’s a romance.”

“All of those people dying is not romantic.”

“Don’t you want to be some sort of film director? You have to watch Titanic if you’re going to do that.” You were surprised Tom had remembered that about you. “You’re watching it. We’re not going to sleep until it’s over.”

You were okay with that. Watching a movie meant Tom was resting which is what you needed to make sure he was doing. Once you were both done with your spaghetti you placed the bowls and tray outside of the room and Tom took his turn in the shower, but not before making you promise you wouldn’t change the channel while he was gone. You moved to the bed to get more comfortable and found yourself getting invested in the story. You were starting to see why it was one of the most famous movies of all time.

When Tom came out of the shower you wanted to throw something at him. He was soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed and shook your head at him.

“What? I just forgot my pajamas!” he smirked as he grabbed clothes from his suitcase and retreated back into the bathroom. Dick.

When Tom was fully clothed and a little less drippy he joined you on the bed. As if on cue the scene in the car started as soon as he settled next to you. It wasn’t anything outrageously raunchy, but you still found yourself holding your breath until it was over. You were overly aware of Tom next to you, hair still wet, breathing evenly, eyes trained on the screen. You relaxed visibly once the scene cut and Tom laughed.

“You’re a dork.” It was the nicest insult he’d ever given you.

The painting scene made you want to die. Your palms were sweating and your cheeks were burning furiously. Tom remained entirely composed unless he was looking at you in which case he’d laugh and give you a hard time. You wished you weren’t so flustered.

“Hey, we’ve only got twenty minutes left, don’t fall asleep yet.” Tom shook your shoulder gently.

You had curled up on your side and your eyes had started to droop. It wasn’t your fault this movie was three years long. You groaned, but sat up anyway.

“This movie is too long,” you complained.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity the credits rolled. You had actually gotten a little emotional at the end, but you weren’t going to admit that to Tom.

The two of you were quiet as you got ready for bed. The silence was comfortable, for once. You both brushed your teeth and took your meds and Tom put on his retainers. It was all very domestic. Tom climbed into bed while you took a moment to plug up your phone and computer by the desk.

“Y/N?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Don’t sleep on the floor tonight.”

Sorry this is up kind of late tonight (but it’s not 2am like last time) !! I really need to get a schedule going lol. Thanks to @splashofbi and @patdandtop for the movie suggestions I was rlly struggling with those!! Anyway lmk what you think about the part!!

WOKO Tags: @parkerstylesperalta @everythingbooknerd @marvelellie @splashofbi @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @timelock97 @ohheyitsem @starsholland

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy

Send me an ask to be added/dropped from a taglist

#marvelellies1kcellie #were only kidding ourselves #woko #tom holland #TOM #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #far from home #harrison osterfield #haz #enemies to lovers #peter parker #tom holland series

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shozto · 5 years

Text

can’t sleep

just a smol katsuki x reader bc i wanted to

Families were difficult.

Y/N had just come back from her parents’ house after staying the day. She was supposed to stay the night, but, a fight broke out between her brother and mother, causing disaster through the house.

It was a stupid fight, something about him not doing anything except play video games all day. Y/N’s father got involved and then it was an all-out screaming match. Y/N tried to stop the fight, telling them that they didn’t have to yell, but that just got her in trouble. She then yelled at her parents and told them she was leaving to go back to the dorms, to which her parents yelled a “fine!” back, which resulted in her grabbing her back and slamming the door.

Now Y/N stood in front of Katsuki Bakugo’s dorm room, backpack in hand. She didn’t know why she was there. It was pretty late for her to be arriving at the school dormitories considering it was a little past midnight. She could have gone back to her room, but when she stepped inside, she couldn’t deal with it. So now she was on the other side of the building.

She raised her hand and knocked softly on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened and revealed a disheveled, tired, and slightly annoyed looking Bakugo.

“What the hell do you w-” his eyes widened when he saw no one at eye level, so he shifted his gaze down and saw Y/N standing, a helpless look on her face. She was clad in grey joggers and a long-sleeved crop top, light blue backpack in her hand. From what he could tell, she just came back.

“Oh- you’re back,” Bakugo stated, slightly confused. “Why so late?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but then closed it and looked down at the ground.

“I just wanted to come back tonight. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said softly, a bit embarrassed. She didn’t even know why she was there.

If Bakugo had learned anything about the girl in the past few months of being friends with her, it was when she was upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” his gruff voice was raspy and not at all welcoming, but Y/N knew he was being gentle with her.

“I’m-” she sighed. “My parents were fighting with me and my brother. They were just yelling for some stupid reason and then I get caught in the middle of it. I’m feeling all panicky for some reason and I know I won't be able to fall asleep- I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

Bakugo shook his head. If anyone knew how complicated families were, it was him. He was always fighting with his mother. It’s not that he didn’t love her, but family, in general, was just frustrating sometimes.

He stepped to the side and opened the door a little wider. “Do you wanna come inside?”

She nodded her head ever so slightly, so he opened the door a bit more and stepped inside, looking behind to see if she was following him. She was standing there for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and walked into the room. Bakugo took the bag from her hand and set it next to his on the small hook on his door.

“You can sleep here if you want,” his rough voice told her, sliding into the full-sized bed and scooting over to the wall so she could lie down. Y/N looked at him, then at the bed, and then at the door. What was she doing?

Bakugo clearly got tired of Y/N’s indecisiveness and sat up, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the bed adorned with dark green sheets. He pulled the blanket over the two and turned to face the wall.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Do you want me to wake you up early so the guys don't find you in here?” Bakugo asked. He didn’t want to invade her privacy and he didn’t want the guys to think anything was up.

“Sure, only if you want to though,” she faced the opposite direction of him. Bakugo hummed in response.

“Thanks, Katuski. Good night,” Y/N said. She was only met by the sound of soft snoring. She smiled to herself and pulled the blankets higher, curling up into a small ball.

What was she doing? She had never been this close to a guy in her life. Why was she even in his room? She could have gone to Ochako or Momo, but she was here, in Katsuki Bakugo’s bed of all places.

Thoughts swam through her mind as she recalled what her parents were yelling at her about. Even though the argument was pointless, the words still hurt.

“You’re so disrespectful!”

She snapped out of her thoughts when she felt movement behind her, followed by a small grunt. Her face heated up when she remembered she was in the same bed as Katsuki. Suddenly, an arm curled around her waist.

Her eyes widened and her breathing stopped momentarily as she turned her head to Bakugo, who was seemingly still sound asleep. He pulled her closer to his body and she nearly melted when her cold body met his warm skin. His body was extremely warm, probably a result of his quirk. His chest heaved. She glanced down to see that her shirt had risen, exposing her stomach to the cool air. Katsuki’s fingers trailed across her naval and stilled at the bottom of the black shirt.

The young girl took a breath. Other than the soft pads of his fingers rubbing circles against her skin, he showed no signs of consciousness. His touch was gentle and slow. Under any other circumstances, she would have been asleep in minutes. But sleep was the last thing on her mind.

There was no doubt that Y/N liked Katsuki. Yes, she had found him attractive, but it wasn’t just that. He was actually surprisingly kind to her, the two had become close friends in the matter of a few days. His hot-headedness was balanced with her kind demeanor, making the two well fit to be friends. Though it wasn’t until the sports festival that she had realized her feelings for him.

She didn’t know it, but Katsuki liked Y/N as well.

Y/N was so deep in thought, she hadn’t realized Katsuki’s hand was under her shirt and rubbing her skin softly. She quickly glanced over her shoulder at the boy, only to be met by burning crimson eyes staring right back at her. The corners of his lips turned upwards slightly and he slowly blinked. “Hard time falling asleep?” He asked while his hand continued to caress her skin. Y/N couldn’t breathe.

Bakugo turned and pulled her close to him, her face pressed up against his toned chest. She let out a shaky breath as the hand that was on her stomach shifted to her lower back. Her head was spinning now with so many questions. What was this? Was she just misunderstanding the situation? It wasn’t until fingers ran up and down her spine that her train of thought stopped. He placed his head in the crook of her neck and let his lips graze the sensitive skin there. She shuddered at the feeling. “Katsu-” He looked apologetically at her quivering body and sighed. “I’m sorry. I could just feel your sadness and I had to do something-”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said in a whisper, tracing the small designs on his shirt.

“Katsuki,” her voice was so soft, so timid. “Do you,” she paused, trying to collect herself. “Do you like me?” she whispered, and Bakugo was positive if there was any other noise in the room he wouldn’t have heard her.

“Yes.”

His answer was short and simple. He didn’t want to scare her away or give her a complicated answer. Bakugo was always one to cut to the point and be straightforward.

A small smile rested on the girls face. “I like you too.”

Katsuki grinned and placed a hand on her cheek, making her look up at him. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have been so gentle. But because of what she was feeling at the moment and the type of person she was, he treated her with complete and utter kindness.

A blush dusted Y/N’s cheeks and she buried her face in Bakugo’s chest. He chuckled softly and hugged her tightly.

“Good night, angel face.”

The nickname just made her cheeks grow redder and she squealed in embarrassment.

The sun was red and barely peaking over the horizon when Kirishima and Kaminari were sitting downstairs on the couch as they lazily stared at their phones.

“Hey guys,” Jiro said as she walked into the room. “Y/N’s supposed to be back soon, right?”

“I thought she was back last night,” Kirishima said, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, I saw her shoes.”

“She’s not in her room though?” Jiro said, confused.

“Let's go look for her,” Kaminari said, getting up from the couch.

A few minutes later, Uraraka, Jiro, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Midoriya were awake and looking for Y/N. They checked the girl’s dorm rooms to see if she was in any of them, but she wasn’t.

“I’m gonna go ask Bakugo if he knows where she is,” Kirishima said, walking up the stairs.

“Good idea, if anything he’ll probably know.”

Kirishima and Kaminari walked down the hallway and knocked on Bakugo’s door.

“Hey, Bakugo! Wake up! We can find Y/N!”

No response.

The two impatient teens opened the door and saw Bakugo wide awake, giving his friends a death glare.

Bakugo lay in his bed, Y/N huddled in his chest, sound asleep.

“Tell anyone about this and you’re both dead.”

#katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #x reader #reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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simply-wins-little-sis · 6 years

Text

Gone Grief

Request: Hey❣️Can I get a deanxSamxlittlesis story? She lives w/ them but she's feisty & always gets into trouble? She hides her self-harm scars & lies about it but they slowly figure it out & confront her force/her to show them? She tries to run away & they're both mad bc this isn't the first time & she had promised to stop. Time goes by & they find her cutting again & on drugs & is dangerously skinny & they're furious/confused but Cas comes & tells the boys about her eating disorder? Idk I need this rn

Tags: :@winchesters-favorite-girl @percussiongirl2017 @the-third-winchester-warrior @hellhoundlover @emmazach @sisterwinchesterwriter @fandom-queen-of-wonderland @staticweekes @hi-my-name-is-riley @a-paranoid-bastard @because-you-never-know-when @enchantingempathhumanoidturtle @alexwinchester23 @winchesterhound @rosie-winchester

WARNINGS: THIS MAY BE TRIGGERIING TO THOS STRUGGING WITH SELF HARM, DPRESSION, EATING DISORDERS, DEATH, BLOOD, OR MENTAL HOSPITALS

PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION AND NEVER READ SOMETHING THAT WILL TRIGGER YOU OR PUT YOU IN A BAD PLACE!

A/N: This is very different from the request but for a long while I couldn't even begin writing this one because I would feel overwhelmed or sick. Here's my take on it. If you really would like the other one, let me know and I can rewrite. Thanks!

The flashbacks are in italics (As shown)

You seemed to have a limp when you walked. One that didn’t represent just an injury, but one that meant the chip on your shoulder was greater than what anyone around her could suspect. Your boots did all the talking for your mouth was always in a tight line.

“Miss Winchester, why don’t you come on in?” called a sweet voice, one full of warmth despite the cool wind that had a nip to it.

You just shook her head, holding in all the oxygen you could, for fear if you let go her brain would collapse into the biological and chemical components it was truly made of.

“Come on Y/N, get in there,” your brother Dean’s gruff and tired voice sounded through the doorway.

This was it, this was your time to heal.

“Y/N what are you doing?!” Sam had accidentally walked in on you. The bathroom in your Uncle Bobby’s house not as hard to open as some of the other ones in the motels you stayed in.

“N-Nothing,” you quickly tried to pull your sleeves down over your oozing wrist. You had split it open again in order to feel something besides the constant pain that held you captive day in and day out.

“Y/N oh my god,” Sam let out a breath. He wasn’t yelling, but panic was evident.

“Sam just leave it,” you pulled your arm away from him.

“Dean!” he called, “Dean!”

“So why don’t you start by telling me about yourself?” the woman, who you now knew to be Dr. Kelley, seemed to have a permanent welcome tattooed into her smile.

You sighed, “Don’t you know everything already?”

“No. You aren’t that file Miss Y/N. I only know what that paper tells, and I know that isn’t all of you.”

“Feels like it is sometimes,” you replied, quickly reaching for your sleeves for some comfort.

“Why don’t you start with how you’re feeling right now?” Kelley asked, not seeming to pry.

“Gone.”

“You need to eat something,” Dean cooed.

“I just can’t,” you cried, pushing your plate away.

“Come on kiddo, one bite,” Sam tried.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Damn it Y/N you’re starving yourself. You’re dying.”

“I know.”

The tears came a bit easier that night.

“Good morning Y/N, ready to take your medicine this morning?” Nurse Patty asked with a slight smile.

You shook your head, “It doesn’t help.”

“Give it time Miss Y/N. Maybe you’ll think about coming out to join group today?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

After a week of laying in the back of the impala, the motel, or wherever you could find with enough space, your brothers made a call to their Father’s old friend Doctor Kelley, who was a hunter’s child.

“Y/N you need to get up now, it’s time to go.”

“Go where Sammy. It’s so dark everywhere.”

Your dehydrated form seemed to be having illusions, that did not play well with your inner demons.

“You’re going to get help.”

“I guess it all started when we lost my friend Cara. It was my fault. I was supposed to be staying by the car, but I was angry that they didn’t trust me, and I went in. The vamp through me against the wall, my knee connected with brick and it somehow hit a nerve. I pried myself up, walked on it, and damaged it more. Cara was worse though, they knew I wanted her safe so they…and then things just started spiraling. I didn’t want to eat, and I kept blaming myself as I do now and it all just took me into a dark place.”

“I can relate,” Jessica smiled at you, “My friend was killed by vamps when I was seven. Put me into this constant state of fear, like am I going to be eaten today, and it made me not want to leave the house.”

You smile back, taking deep breaths and feeling your exposed skin, but not prying at the scars.

“So, she’s going to be alright here?” Dean asked, skeptical to leave his baby sister.

“Here we treat hunter’s kids who have rough patches. It’s safe. Everyone here has either experienced the life or has been hurt by it. She’ll be okay. I promise.”

With that the impala coasted down the highway, back to Bobby’s, short one sibling.

“Sam? Dean?” you called, tears streaming down your cheeks, but this time for a new emotion you hadn’t felt in so long.

“Y/N/N!” Sam pulled you into a hug.

“Her progress marks she can go home,” Dr. Kelley smiled.

“You’re better?” Dean questioned.

“Better than I ever have been.”

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firebirdsdaughter · 5 years

Text

Zi-O 20 subs are out~...

... And I can finally sit down!~

That’s right, after a long day of work, I can finally come home, eat a weird concoction of linguini, chicken, tomato, and parmesan, and watch my children do things while I plot their untimely deaths!

... That... Sounded really creepy. Please, no one take that out of context.

In no order:

Well, we start w/ a lot of the same thoughts.

Kuro Woz is lying to me again...

I hate Shiro Woz.

So does Geiz, pretty sure.

The watch is symbolic, I suppose. Doesn’t it restart at the end?

Okay, so I think I kinda understand why Quiz is still Quiz, even though there’s Another Quiz--bc w/ all the others, they were previous Riders. The Another Riders were created in the same year that those Riders existed, which was in the past. But Quiz is (allegedly) from the year 2040. So he doesn’t exist yet, in 2019, when Another Quiz was created. And going by how he knows about his father being said Another Rider, it’s probable that Another Quiz was defeated before he became Quiz. So they never actually existed, technically, at the same time--or, I guess, it might be clearer to say that they didn’t originate at the same time. And for Kinji, we A) only saw Shinobi in a dream and B) it was him who was made into the Another Rider. They were the same person. Did... Any of that make sense?

That is totally the moment he had the idea.

I still don’t know what Oct-Sox is.

Geiz’s ‘please someone shoot me’ face every time Shiro Woz is Shiro Woz.

Geiz is slowly wandering into considering Sougo an actual ally and I don’t know he’s quite realised it yet. He’s trying to predict what Sougo is going to do in a situation and work w/ it. I love my sons.

Also Sou Okuno remains absolutely adorable.

Shiro Woz just wanders in to ruin everything by whining.

No, I’m sorry. Geiz’s mission is to defeat the ostrich.

HE’S SO EMBARRASSED! I LOVE IT!

Geiz is a straightforward, honest, good boo and I LOVE HIM.

He’s super embarrassed. I love tsunderes so much. I just love simple, kinda gruff characters who end up being soft in their own ways, despite trying not to.

Hiromu is like ‘I detect friendship?’ and Geiz is like ‘oh, god, NO’

But I can see why Geiz would be afraid of actually getting close to Sougo. Bc then what if something does happen, even if it’s out of their control, and he does have to kill him? Either he won’t be able to go through w/ it at all, or it’ll destroy him bc he’s such a loyal and honest and true person. Especially since he’s so uncomfortable showing feelings et al. Like, he’s just so genuinely afraid of going through more pain and loss than he already has. God, I wish we had more backstory on these kids.

I still hate Shiro Woz’s laugh.

Wow. They’re henshining quite close to each other...

I’m still pretending that the using of the W Armour was significant and NO ONE CAN STOP ME.

Geiz just stands around and watches Hiromu punch his dad for a bit.

Okay, the giant W is funny.

I told you, he’s Red Buster.

Okay, so he does have a kid at this point.

Geiz is just like ‘this is the moment awkward moment of my life, and I am an extremely awkward person.’

The hilarious thing is that it didn’t even look like Shiro Woz hit Geiz that hard. But he still went flying.

I’m minority offended by the BeyonDriver voice doing the Quiz Driver voice transformation announcement.

DON’T TAKE THINGS SHIRO WOZ HANDS YOU!

Yeah! I knew I remembered right! They watch works now!

Is that Revive from the back or the front? I can’t tell. It’s still definitely only one form. Didn’t that magazine indicate it had two?

I’m wondering if it was Geiz’s sheer stubbornness that he didn’t fall over.

Shut up, Shiro Woz. Sentimentality is gonna save the bloody world.

Also, stop trying to destroy Geiz’s feelings, he worked hard for those.

And... Then he just walks away w/ his hand in the air like he’s got a french cigarette. ... It’s gotta be the beret.

Hiromu is concerned, but can’t do much.

Well, yes, I think Geiz Revive is going to help change history but not in the way Shiro Woz intends it to.

Tsukuyomi’s outfit was again adorable and I wish I’d seen more of it.

Some still tell me Sougo at least looked for Geiz a little. I get having to take Mondo Sr. to a hospital or something, and having to get home, but... Like, dude, Geiz did not look well.

I mean, he goes ‘well’ like he’s about to say something like that. He does look extra down, even though things technically went well-ish. I mean, Hiromu was able to learn what he wanted.

I’m now vaguely concerned Kuro Woz did something upstairs. I get that it’s dramatic, I just... How did he get up there? Did he teleport? Climb through a window w/ his scarf?

... *smallest violin*

He’s offering to feed Kuro Woz. Does Kuro Woz eat? I don’t believe we’ve seen Kuro Woz eat? Someone get this boy some takoyaki.

Wait. So... Does this mean that the power up is broken? Is that why he’s asking Junichiro to fix it? So... Is Junichiro going to fix it, or is... I don’t know, Sougo’s... I don’t know, desire to stop his mirror self and help his friends?

... *is a sucker for characters gaining power through their desire to protect the ones they care about*

I mean, the Zi-Ot3 appear to be back together next ep, so... And if Sougo gets stuck in a mirror world, then Geiz and Tsukuyomi will be on their own again Another Ryuuga... Well, and Shiro Woz, I guess, but no one likes him.

Hrrrrrrrgh. I just want my kids to be safe and happy and love each other, okay. Also I can’t wait until the sixth.

Anyway, that’s all. Digital croissants for anyone who read all that.

Point is, I love the Zi-Ot3, I’m kind of fond of Kuro Woz in a ‘if you got a redemption arc and joined the squad I would be glad’ way. Shiro Woz still needs to gtfo and keep his maybe-hazy foreshadowing implications away from my precious tsundere.

That’s it for now.

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lolbtsaus · 7 years

Text

Dagger (Werewolf!Jungkook)

Plot: A relationship between hunter!reader and werewolf!Jungkook

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Word Count: 1732

A/N: so here is part fourteen, the closest I’ll ever get to angst lol I don’t write angst v v often bc I’m just soft but I did wanna have a lil bit of it for this part, the link for this is werewolf!Jungkook (here)

You knew you’d have to leave your safe little bubble eventually but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. You had just started to decorate your home, just started to find a rhythm, just started making friends at work. But then you were on your way into the apartment, taking the elevator up and stepping out just to see two men stood in front of the door of your apartment, dark red sheaths at their hips. You prayed Jungkook wasn’t home, unsure if you should step back into the elevator to avoid them seeing you or if you should confront them. If Jungkook was inside, you would need to get past them to get in but if he was still on his way home like he had been ten minutes ago, you could just meet him outside and run.

As if on cue, the two men looked over at you, putting on their best attempt at friendly smiles. “Long time no see.”

You recognized them as two of your trainer’s friends, two elite hunters, realizing that it meant your trainer was here. “Where is he?”

“You’re supposed to tell us that.”

“Not Jungkook. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Oh, I suppose they’ve found each other by now, don’t you? They’ve always had that horrible habit of running into each other at the worst times.”

You felt your stomach drop, abandoning the idea of waiting for the elevator to come back as you ran straight for the stairs, making your way back down as fast as you could. You continued to run outside, not caring about the dull pain in your legs from the sudden rushed use. You heard the sound of a loud thud, sounding as if someone had been knocked into a wall, Jungkook’s groan following it. You ran to find him, seeing him in the alleyway next to your apartment complex, surrounded by four hunters, all with bloody knuckles. You were quick to realize that they were doing this to torment the two of you. None of them had their swords out, they could’ve easily had him pinned and killed within just a few seconds. It didn’t matter how fast or strong Jungkook was, whether he was an Alpha or not, he was one person and they were four skilled hunters, the best in their trade. If they wanted him dead, he would be dead before you had a chance to get to him. But they left him alive, they wanted you to kill him.

And of course, you had to feed into their plan, you couldn’t just stand back as your boyfriend fell to the ground, blood running down from his nose, his eyes unfocused as he felt the nausea building up, a ringing in his ears. He didn’t want to shift, not now, not in front of them. It would only give them all the more reason to kill him, to not bother to wait for you to do it. They could say he attacked them, they could tell his father that there had been nothing else they could do if they wanted to survive. They could walk away with bloodied hands and a perfectly clean record, just one more werewolf kill, one more rabid animal taken down. He was distantly aware of your hands fumbling around his face, shaky fingers tilting his head towards you in an attempt to get him to look at you. He tried, he really did but all he saw was red, all he felt was the pain in his jaw of his canine teeth wanting to grow, the throbbing in his fingers as his claws desired to break skin. It only grew stronger when you were in front of him, the instinct to protect taking over but he knew, better than anyone, that he couldn’t give them any more reasons to antagonize the two of you. Right now, they believed they had just knocked him around enough, that he was just dizzy from the impact of the wall. They knew next to nothing about werewolves in all actuality but you did.

“Don’t. Let me handle them. Let me protect you.” you whispered to him, knowing you didn’t enough time to sit with him and calm him down, especially when there was already a hand on your arm, pushing you away from him.

He didn’t respond, a faint growl leaving his throat at the rough treatment towards you but you figured he would listen, his fists balling as he kept his head hung low. His breathing was rough, coming out in huffs and low snarls but he stayed still.

“What do you want?” Your turned your glare onto the man in front of you, hating the smug look on his face.

“His head. Either you kill him and come back home or we kill him and bring your head with his.”

As he spoke, the two men from earlier strolled their way over, as if they had all the time in the world. You saw your bag in one of their hands, the bag you’d tossed aside in your effort to get to Jungkook faster. They tipped it over in front of the two of you, letting the contents spill out onto the ground, the silver dagger you had forgotten to toss out falling in front of Jungkook. You heard his breath shake, his fingers hesitantly reaching out to touch it, jerking his hand back at the burn of silver.

“You were smart with it. Getting him all the way out here, making him trust you, just so you could kill him. You’re right to do it, he’s stronger than he’s let you know, you’d never be able to handle him in a one on one. Humans will never be able to take on an Alpha, no matter how well trained. But making an Alpha feel human, that’s ingenious.” your former trainer accused, trying to plant the lies into Jungkook’s head. “We’ll leave you to it.”

He gave you one last look that told you he’d won before he led his group away, leaving Jungkook and you sat in the alley, staring at the silver weapon.

“You kept it?” Jungkook finally whispered, his voice still gruff, a growl still hidden behind his words.

“I wasn’t going to, I promise, I just-”

“Wanted to make sure you had protection for when I lose control. For when I go rabid.” he spat the word out, knowing how much the hunters loved using that word to describe werewolves.

“K-kook-” you started again, tears filling your eyes as you watched him stand up on shaky legs.

“You still think like a hunter, that’s good. You’re right, he’s right. I’m a ticking time bomb, you’re smart to have something to protect you.” He fixed his jacket, pushing it back onto his shoulder before grabbing the key chain that had fallen from your bag. “I’m taking a shower, I’m all bloody.”

You could only stare after him as he walked away, feeling the urge to run after him and apologize until the word “sorry” stopped sounding like an actual word but he ignored your attempts to grab at his arm, ignored your apologies before he went inside. You looked back at the silver dagger, never hating the sight of it so purely, packing your bag up and throwing the dagger into the large trash container behind the hotel. You hadn’t meant to keep it but you knew how it looked to Jungkook to see that you had it. You had honestly forgotten you had it, your concerns more focused on Jungkook and your life rather than a stupid weapon you had never intended to use.

You knew it would be hard to explain, Jungkook was more sensitive than he let on, especially around you. He had always trusted you so openly, so fearlessly, he had never once doubted you, even though he’d known you were a hunter from the moment he’d first seen you. You knew how much it must’ve hurt to think that you didn’t feel the same about him, that you didn’t trust him in the way he thought you did, that you didn’t love him in the same way he loved you.

He couldn’t get it out of his head as he stepped into the shower, ignoring the pain in his body, knowing it’d go away once the broken bones healed and the bruises faded. He knew you weren’t doing what your trainer had tried to convince him you were doing, that you were secretly plotting his murder. He had been too vulnerable in front of you too many times for you to not just take advantage and kill him on the spot if that’s what you wanted. But now he knew that you had never felt safe around him, that you had felt the need to keep yourself armed at all times, that you probably thought of him as an animal, the same way the rest of the hunters did. You thought he would turn on you, even though he’d shown his wolf form to you countless times, hell, he’d fallen asleep on your lap with paws and fur, his head still lolled back from when you’d been petting his chest. You could’ve just taken your opportunity then, killed him without even giving him a chance to fight back.

Which made it all that more confusing. You hadn’t taken any of the chances he’d unknowingly presented to you, all of the chances he was just now realizing he’d given to you. How many times had he fallen asleep before you, how many times had he fallen asleep in your lap, how many times had he been so vulnerable in front of you? He had thought you had been just as vulnerable, that it had been a mutual showing of trust but now he knew you’d had a dagger behind your back the entire time. He never thought he’d feel a greater pain than the pain he’d felt when his leg had been pierced by the metal spikes of the bear trap, that nothing would ever hurt him more than having to sit and feel his leg heal only to rewound, until he had been released, been returned to his father but he was wrong. This hurt more than all of it, this cut deeper and it would most definitely leave a worse scar.

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imagines-never-die · 7 years

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Boys of your choice finally working up the courage to talk to their crush, but their crush just became 1000% more intimidating to talk to bc they're wearing something a bit more revealing or cute today. (Not naughty or anything when I say revealing, maybe they run into them on their way to the pool and it's the first time seeing them in a swimsuit or something)

(For this one, I went with Junkrat, Roadhog, and Zenyatta)

Junkrat

It wouldn’t be very hard to tell if Junkrat liked you; he’scertainly not very subtly about it. Everytime he blows something up, he just has to show you! Whenever he raids amilk tea shop, he just has to getenough for the both of you. And he can’t just sit next to you—he has to sitright next to you and practically breathe down your neck! So yeah, it wasn’texactly a secret to anyone on base that Jamison liked you. Now, it was just amatter of time for him to man-up and confess.

Behind the scenes, he was practicing like crazy, writing outwhat he’d say in his chicken scratch handwriting and crossing it out againsaying, “no, no, that sounds stupid.” He practiced in front of the mirror, hepracticed on Roadhog, and he practiced on training dummies! But nothing couldprepare him for the real thing. The one day he decided to confess to you wasthe one day Mei and Tracer invited you to go swimming. It was your day off,after all, and you weren’t sure when you’d get lovely weather like that again.

So when he finally confronted you on your way to the pool,you were wearing short shorts and were shirtless/wearing a bikini top. Herounded the corner of the hallway, looking all determined and ready.

“Oh, hey Junkrat,” you smiled and waved.

His jaw went totally slack as his eyes instantly moved toyour exposed flesh. Ooooh shoot, he was out of it.

“Urm…Junkrat?” you approached him worriedly, “Are you ok?”

“U-uh—I,” he suddenly straightened up, scratching the backof his neck, “W-well, I was just looking for—for you!”

“Oh really? What for?” you asked.

But no matter how hard the junker tried, he could not keephis eyes off your pecs/breasts. He had never seen them out there like that! Howwas he supposed to handle this now when he could barely look you in the eye?!All his well-rehearsed lines had suddenly gone out the window.

“N-nothing!” he yelped anxiously, “Nevermind, nevermind,wasn’t important at all, I swear!”

“O…k?” you scratched your head curiously, “Well Mei, Lena,and I are going swimming this afternoon if you want to join us,”

“Oh, hehe, naw!” he waved his hand dismissively and tried tohide the growing red on his face, “I-I can’t swim anyhow,”

“You can’t? Well how about I teach you?”

“N-Naw, I couldn’t let ya do th-that!” he giggled nervously,“You go and—uh er—enjoy your time with the girls, yeah! I’ll uh…catchup withyou later!”

With that, he sped off down the hall, muttering under hisbreath, “…When you’re fully clothed…”

Roadhog

It might be a little harder to tell if Mako has a crush onyou simply because he’s such a quiet guy to begin with. You’ll have to havesome sharp eyes to notice him watching you silently out of the corner of youreye. You might also be able to tell by how nicely he treats you compared to theother agents. He’s more gruff and blunt with the others, but he’s a lot gentlerand more docile with you.

His main concern about confronting you with his feelings isthat he’ll be shot down. After all, you’re so cute and pretty, why would youlike a big Aussie man who kills people for a living? Roadhog missed a lot ofchances to confess to you, simply because he thought it “wasn’t a good time” orthat “you looked busy” or that “he’d just bug you.” But they were all justexcuses to put it off.

Finally, one evening Junkrat had enough of his partner’sfretting. It was time to get this whole thing over with! He shoved the fat manto your quarters and left him there, standing awkwardly outside your door.Letting out a sigh, he rapped his meaty hand on the door and waited for ananswer.

Sure enough, you answered with a cheery, “Hello Mako!” Buthe was totally caught off guard by what you were wearing. A floor-lengthballgown/tuxedo replaced your usual agent uniform, hugging you in all the rightplaces and making you look super sophisticated. Mako couldn’t think of anythinghe had seen that looked so poised. Looking at you then, how perfect and neatyou were, and thinking of himself, he began to think it would never work. Amessy ragtag junker with someone as classy as you? He figured he’d just be anuisance to you…

“Oh, right!” you noticed him staring at your dress/suit, “I’mgoing out to a charity gala tonight. What do ya think?”

Mako was silent for a few seconds save for the raspy breathsthat always emanated from his mask.

“You look…beautiful,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” a light pink dusted your cheeks, “By the way, didyou need something?”

All you got was more silence, but inside Mako’s head was araging inner turmoil. What should he do?! Make up an excuse and leave it there,or confess to them now of all times—when they were looking their most amazingand too good for him?!

“Um…I forgot,” he mumbled and started on his way back.

Your brow creased as you said, “Mako. If you have somethingyou want to tell me, you know you can,”

That stopped him, making him twiddle his thumbs nervouslylike he always would when he was around them.

He slowly waddled back over to them and breathed, “Just uh…I…Ireally like you, [Name]. Th-that’s all I wanted to say,”

Your eyes widened in shock as your blush deepened. Thiswould certainly give you something to think about at the gala.

Zenyatta

Zenyatta’s all about kindness to everyone, but when it cameto you, he turned up his kindness levels to over 9,000. You were pretty surethis omnic had a thing for you. The main trouble with him was that he had neverfelt something like this before! Omnics process embarrassment and infatuationdifferently from humans, and he wasn’t sure how to process those new emotion.So it would take him a while to learn how to cope with them, but once he did,he would feel ready to confront you.

He’d go through lots calming exercises to keep him thinkingclearly and concisely so as not to mess anything up. Zen wanted this confessionof love to be perfect. After a small search around the monastery for you, heheard your melodic humming coming from the main atrium. He always loved thathum and how it resonated through the air, making the coils and wires of hisbody vibrate.

Following the sound, he found you spinning around at thecenter of the atrium, practicing a small dance by yourself. You were wearing a…oh.Zenyatta’s approach suddenly halted when he saw the blue skater dress/ tux thatyou wore. He had never seen you so dolled up before! At first, it warmed hiscircuits to see you looking so pretty, but then they began to overheat. Oh no,it was happening again! Zen tried to get himself under control, but he justcouldn’t! He considered leaving, and telling you another time, but you noticedhim standing on the one end of the atrium.

“Oh, Zenyatta!” you called out, “Hi!”

To you, he just stood there all strangely stoic and quiet,but inside, he was panicking about what to do. Well, he figured, you hadalready seen him so there was no point in running.

Walking towards you, he said, “You look lovely tonight,[Name].”

“You think? Oh thank goodness,” they sighed in relief, “Iwas worried this didn’t fit right, so I was practicing a few dance steps in itjust to make sure it did. You think it’ll be ok?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “What is the occasion,”

“There’s a small dance going on in the village just belowhere,” you explained, “I know the other monks don’t like it when we leave the monastery,but I think they’re really missing out. They have lots of fun stuff to do inthe village!”

“Hey!” an idea suddenly popped into your head, “Why don’tyou come with me?”

Zenyatta let out a small gasp and suddenly pictured himselfthere: dancing slowly to music, you right up against him as he led you throughthe dance, everyone watching, his hands around your waist…ummm. He hadn’t evenrealized he was stalling until you waved a hand in front of his face.

“Oh! W-well,” he stuttered, “I don’t really know how todance, and I’m afraid I don’t have the proper attire for the event,”

“Aw ok,” you pouted, “Well, maybe the next dance they haveyou can come. We’ll get you a nice suit and teach you a few dance moves, too!”

“That sounds wonderful,” he said.

“It does!” you beamed, “Well I better start heading down. It’sa long walk, you know. See ya!”

“F…Farewell,” he waved weakly to you as you left.

He had let you get away. Then again, maybe that was for thebest since he could practically fry an egg on his metallic body he wasoverheating so much!

#overwatch imagine #junkrat #jamison fawkes #mako rutledge #roadhog #zenyatta #tekhartha zenyatta #request

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