#I love crack that is treated so seriously it can bleed over into angst

[allgremlinart]

thank u for tagging me @kryptoknight !! <33

allow me to expose myself,,

Fic Tropes

slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there is only one bed or long-distance correspondence // 

hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // 

canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one shot or multi chapter // kid fic or roadtrip fic //

arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle-aged romance // 

time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates  // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

hmm,,,tagging @superbattrash @therehavebeenstranger @hiero-green and @blorb-el (no pressure obvs and if u already got tagged in this,,, oops lol)

[hanoella]

A Matter of Time (1/2)

Pairing: Bucky x healer!Reader

Word Count: Just under 3k

Summary: Healing others took a lot out of you. It was only a matter of time until it was going to be too much on your body.

Warnings: Hardcore angst, blood, grave injury, explicit description of injury, medical life support, needles? still not good at this stuff.

A/N: Another @wkemeup writing challenge prompt! Thanks so much everyone for all the love and support on my first fic!

Prompt: Believing they’re about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.

---

           It was only a matter of time.

          Healing always took so much out of you. One day, it was going to be too much for your body to handle. You hadn’t explicitly told anyone that it drains you. Only the observant picked up on it. It’s the reason why Natasha never asked for your help with minor things. It’s also why Bucky plain refused your help nowadays. He was hyper aware of everything around him and that included you. He always saw the light sheen of sweat forming on your brow, the way you became slightly breathless, and the increase in your pulse. When there was a major injury, he was very well aware of the tell-tale signs of exhaustion.

          The very first time that he let you work on his shoulder, he had asked what it was like out of curiosity.

          “Well… it’s kind of like projecting the pain onto myself. I’ve always been very in tune with my body. So ever since this,” you pause to gesture with your hands. “I can usually tell what the problem is. For example, I can tell that this specific muscle is bothering you,” you say as you gently put pressure on the specific aching tendon in his arm. Bucky winced before feeling the warmth reach deep into his muscles. He let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Turning slightly so that you could partly see his face, he thanked you. For a reason he couldn’t understand, a big smile slowly developed on your face.

          “What?” He asked.

          “Nothing, I’m just glad you finally let me work on it. I can see now that you’ve been… suffering. I’m just happy you’re feeling better.”

          Bucky felt his face flush slightly and turned back to face forward. Amused, you started humming lightly as you continued your work.

           Not that he would admit it but since then, there may have been… other reasons why he is always paying close attention to you. You reminded him of Steve. Somebody who was truly selfless. The one to make the sacrifice play. You may be less on the forefront of the battles but the work and the sacrifices you make for the world were just as big. Bucky found that he admired you for that. It stirred up feelings in his chest that he chose to ignore. It also made him nervous.

           Every time you were needed, he was assigned as your bodyguard. You could handle yourself better than the average civilian, but you wouldn’t consider yourself a fighter. Considering that he preferred to stay out of the spotlight, as well as the fact that his relationship with the public was still rocky, it ended up being the ideal position for him. At first, he was nervous because he was protecting something incredibly important. More so than any jewel or riches that existed. You were someone that could practically bring someone back from the dead. If he couldn’t protect you, he was practically sentencing anyone who would need your help in the future, to death. Certainly, a weighty responsibility that would make anyone nervous.

           It grew to be more than that though. Each time he protected you from a threat, no matter how small, your appreciation made it worth it. Your gratitude, which manifested itself into words, notes, and small gifts, sustained him. He had a hidden drawer filled with smiley faces on post it notes and cute little Tupperware containers that had held homemade sweet treats.

          But his favorite reward was not anything he could bring back to his apartment. It was your touch. The small brushes against his arm grew into touches and squeezes. In turn, it grew into grasping his hand while thanking him and once, a quick hug before you jumped back and apologized. He blushed lightly and looked away, letting you know that it was okay, he didn’t mind. Actually, Bucky would’ve preferred for that moment to have lasted forever. Because when you pulled away, he was suddenly aware of how starved he felt without your touch. That one action had been the gateway to a life filled with longing. He would chase that feeling forever; He could not bear the thought of being without you. That’s what made him nervous. He felt like he couldn’t think clearly anymore around you. He was going to make a mistake.

          It was only a matter of time.

---

          Waiting in the Quinjet with Bucky, you listened for updates on the mission. This time, they had gotten intel about a subbranch of Hydra dedicated to chemical warfare. Fearing another threat like anthrax, you set out to stop it. Everyone was in the building and you were on standby in case any pathogens got loose. Wanda could contain it, and you could eradicate it by healing all of the infected, and then they could disinfect the area. Hopefully, though, it was just a precaution.

           The atmosphere was calm, the lights off since the night sky was clear in the mountains. Moonlight filtering in through the front windshield, you were taking Bucky through the latest playlist you had curated for him when Nat radioed in.

           “We’ve almost got the lab secured. No injuries.”

           “Word.” You radioed back casually as Bucky looked at you confused.

           You were about to explain the response and pull up urban dictionary when Steve radioed back as well.

           “We had a group escape, some guards protecting the head researcher. They’re headed towards the jet. He blocked off the tunnel he used to escape so they’ll get to you before we can reach him.”

           “Copy that.” Bucky radioed back as he got up.

           When you got up to follow him, he gave you a look.

           “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not completely useless. Besides, I think I could take on a lab lackey.”

          “I don’t want you to get caught up in the rest of it.” He responded seriously.

          Looking at him and realizing it wasn’t up for debate, your expression sobered up.

          “Okay. Just be careful, please.”

          He nodded as he heard voices approaching. He headed down the ramp and met them outside of the jet. You peaked out of the opening of the ramp as he took them out one by one. When all five were on the ground, you came out and checked to make sure he was okay.

          “Wow, impressive.” You commented, nudging one of the guys with your foot.

          “Wait,” you said, eyebrows scrunching together. “None of these guys are in a lab coat.”

           Just as he was about to respond, he glanced to the side and quickly pushed you out of the way. The lab coat tackled him where you had just been standing. They went rolling towards the edge of the cliff and you shouted his name.

           “Bucky!”

           He kicked the researcher away from him while still on the ground. As the man started rolling off of the cliff, he grabbed Bucky’s leg. Bucky started scrambling to find a grip as the scientist slid off the cliff, trying to take Bucky with him. You ran over to the edge, grabbing Bucky’s arm to support him as he tried to kick the guard off of his leg.

           “With you out of the picture, the path forward will be successful. Hail Hydra.” He shouted as he grabbed a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into Bucky’s thigh.

           Bucky grunted loudly as the scientist took the knife out and stabbed it back in. You strained to hold him up as he struggled to kick him off, blood streaming down his leg. With one more heavy kick, the man lost his grip and fell down the mountain. At the same time, the force of the kick had loosened the ground under you. There was a crack and you locked eyes with Bucky in panic.

          You cried out as you used all of your strength to bring him back up over the cliff. It started falling away as soon as Bucky had found his footing and he lunged towards the jet while grabbing you. He held you with one arm and kept you from hitting the ground as the other forearm took the impact and held you both up. Looking incredulously at the strength of his arm and then turning your head back to look at him, he gently set you down. You were both breathing heavily as you lifted your head to see the platform you were just standing on was now gone.

           You laid your head back down and closed your eyes in relief. Bucky took the opportunity to take you in. Your hair formed a halo around your face perfectly as it was spread out on the grass and the moon’s light made you look like your skin was glowing. You looked ethereal. Before you got the chance to see him gazing at you, he flopped over onto his back next to you, catching his breath. You looked over at him, the stars now reflected in your eyes, and started laughing lightly. He didn’t know what you were laughing at, but it made him start laughing. As it subsided, you sat up and faced him.

           “Can I please heal those?” You asked, gesturing towards his leg. You had never worked on his thighs and you wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

           He paused, partly out of shyness and partly not wanting to tire you out. Your gaze lingered on the wounds and he saw how much it worried you. He nodded and you leaned over to take a look. As you moved the blood-soaked fabric out of the way, he winced. The wounds were deep and bleeding still. You focused your hands overtop the injury and concentrated. The soft white glow enveloped your hands and his leg. He watched as the bleeding started slowing. After a few moments, the wound started closing and the pain started easing. Bucky tried to get up as soon as it became bearable, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him. Though your breath was slightly strained, the determination in your eyes stopped him and he slowly laid back down. Soon enough, he couldn’t even tell that anything had happened. Once it was completely healed, you then flopped down next to him.

          You both settled, watching the clouds pass in front of the moon and stars. After you caught your breath, you spoke:

           “Bucky Barnes, I owe you my life. Several times over. Thank you.”

           “I think you’re the one who just saved my life, doll.” He said, amused.

           “Ooh, doll. Somebody’s finally warming up to me.” You said, laughter in your tone as you stood up. “Do you call every damsel in distress you save a doll?”

          The answer to that question was “no” but before he could respond, you held your hand out to him. Bucky sat up and accepted it, standing all the way up. As he let go of your hand, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, cheek resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Bucky swallowed and then slowly brought his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. Content.

          Unexpectedly, he stiffened. Something was wrong.

          “Bucky?” You called his name hesitantly as you stepped out from his grasp.

          You peered at his face and saw his pupils so blown out that you could barely see the blue anymore.

          “Bucky!?” You shouted as he fell to the ground.

          He couldn’t control anything except for his eyes as muscles all over his body started twitching. You knelt down and panicked, laying your hands against his chest, searching for an explanation. You hovered your hands over his heart and felt it so tight and strained it was barely pumping. You felt as if you were choking, and you weren’t even feeling the full effect.

          Cardiac arrest. How is this possible?

          You racked your brain for explanations. You instantly thought of the researcher. You traced a strange substance you felt through his veins until you found where it originated- from the knife wound.

           Poison.

           At this point, it had reached his heart. What little it was pumping was spreading the poison. It’s completely taken over his blood. You locked eyes with Bucky and saw the pain and panic in his eyes, his clenched jaw, and the tendons in his neck, outlined clearly by the strain. He was suffering.

          No. Much worse.

          He was dying.

          You had to save him.

          You interlocked one hand over top of the other and started doing compressions on his chest. What was normally a soft white light was now blinding. You could see the outline of his heart, and with each pump, the white light travelled an inch down his veins. Slowly, with each thrust, the white light made it further and further out from his heart.

          “What happened!?” Steve shouted. You hadn’t even heard the team come back.

          “We saw the light and came back as fast as we could!” Sam said.

          You shrugged Steve’s hand off your shoulder as you continued compressions.

          “Poison.” You panted.

          Thump.

          “He’s-”

          Thump.

          “Dying.”

          Thump.

          You hadn’t realized you were crying. Tears now spilled freely onto Bucky’s jacket.

          Steve stayed kneeling next to you as the rest of the team stood back, watching in amazement as the light made its way through Bucky’s body.

          Bucky locked eyes with him. He placed a hand on Buck’s head and wiped the sweat off of his brow.

          “You’re gonna be okay, Buck. You’ll pull through.” He said with a small reassuring smile.

          It wasn’t himself he was worried about. He’d never seen you exert yourself this much. He was in so much pain but dying would be better than seeing you go through this.

          You shouted with each thrust, trying to keep yourself from tiring out and stopping. The white light had made its way back around to the heart and Bucky’s entire body started relaxing. You felt relief as he stopped seizing and his eyes started closing. As you wiped the sweat off of your face, you realized your nose was bleeding. Just as you were about to sit back, you froze.

          There’s no heartbeat. You desperately connected yourself back to his body and felt that his organs were shutting down. You started compressions again, this time more vigorously. You were going to have to filter his organs for multiple rounds to reach every part, every cell affected by the poison. You wailed, crying harder as you felt his ribs crack from the force and then heal, only to be cracked again. You were starting to get lightheaded, and your muscles were burning. You could not keep it up for much longer. Desperate to get him back, you call to Steve beside you.

          “Steve. There’s. Adrenaline. In. Jet.” You gasped between each push.

          Steve was so distraught between seeing the both of you that he didn’t move right away. Natasha instinctively ran to the jet and brought it back, digging through it until she found the syringe and uncapped the needle.

          Natasha knew she didn’t need to confirm whether you really wanted to do this.

          “Injecting now.”

          She thrust the needle into your thigh and clicked the top, releasing the spring and shooting the needle into the muscle.

          You wailed again in anguish, fighting through the pain until you felt it hit your heart. The light had turned into a pillar, a beacon in the sky. Your hair once again in a halo, floating around you. The team had to shield their eyes and brace themselves against the force that hit them. You put newfound strength into each push until you could feel that every single drop of poison was filtered out of his body. Finally, Bucky opened his eyes.

          You stopped pushing on his chest.

          “Bucky?” you asked hoarsely.

          He was still coming to but was well enough to sit up. He clutched at his chest and found no pain. He then looked at his hand.

          “How did you-?”

          You fell over.

          Bucky scrambled over to you and pulled you into his arms. You coughed against his chest, bloodying his shirt. He looked at you and then at Steve, mouth agape. Steve could only look sadly back.

          He cradled you and brushed the hair out of your face, blood from your nose and mouth smearing before being covered by the new blood steadily streaming out.

          “I’m sorry,” You said softly, the sleepy look on your face deceivingly masking the gravitas of the situation.

          “Don’t apologize.” He said quietly, pausing to keep the tears from showing. It proved to be pointless as his voice cracked, asking:

          “Why would you do this? You should’ve just let me die.”

          You closed your eyes.

          “Because I love you, Buck. Always have.” You slurred tiredly.

          You whimpered and then stilled.

          Bucky cried while rocking you in his arms.

 ---

Part II

          You opened your eyes to a black room. No, not a room. There were no walls. You glanced down at your hands. You could still see them so it wasn’t dark, just… black.

          “Well, hello.”

          You spun around and saw the source of the voice.

          A serene, beautiful woman who had long dark hair and dressed in a green tunic addressed you.

          “What has brought you here, young one?”

Read Part II Here

[bagelbright-tok]

Reflection

Jotaro (3) x Fem!Reader

[FINISHED FIC]

Warning(s): Violence, descriptions of life threatening injuries, descriptions of blood, life threatening experience, trauma, descriptions of pure anguish, five stages of grief, depression, angst, poor writing, I did not double-check or reread anything.

Word Count: 1946

__

I’m Sorry.

__

It'd already been several hours since Polnareff burst out of the bathroom, panicking about an enemy attack. The enemy being the man with two right hands. The man who had slaughtered Polnareff's sister. It was understandable that he wanted to go off on his own to hunt down the monster, but it wasn't smart.

Not smart at all. In the hotel, in Jotaro's and your shared room, you expressed your worry.

"I'm so nervous. I've never been so full of anxiety." You say quietly, plopping on the bed. "I'm sure he can fend for himself, but not even he knew what the enemy's ability is."

"You need to stop worrying. It's his problem. He's the one who decided to go off on his own." Jotaro said calmly, in his usual monotone voice. He removed his hat, placing it on the nightstand. "He even said when we met him that he was coming with us to get revenge for his sister."

You sigh, finally laying down on the edge of the bed, "You're right. I guess I just get attached too quick," You admit with defeat, "I'll miss him. He was like the… the comedy break in this depressing trip."

"Hm." Jotaro agreed, removing his jacket and setting it wherever he could.

Jotaro got in bed and finally you decided to place yourself in a more comfortable position on said bed. 

____ You'd been dating Jotaro for about two years now. You've had your Stand, Knight's Cups, since you had been born. It was more of a defensive than offensive, but could do damage if used correctly.

Knight's Cups could create barriers. These barriers were usually cloudy but mostly clear. You could create as many as you wanted, but the more you created the more energy you used. The same applied to size. You could make a barrier around the entirety of the world, but that would kill you before you were a quarters way done. You tend to stick to singular barriers to protect yourself or singular barriers around the enemy to capture them in a way. In some cases, you could shrink the barrier with someone inside. This would obviously crush them to death. You had no limit as to how small you could make your barriers. As with most Stands, there was the downside. Your Stand was the barrier. If the barriers were actually penetrated or cracked, it would seriously harm you.

___

The next day, likely around lunch time. You, Jotaro, Joseph, Kakyoin, and Avdol were all sitting around the table, an extra seat bothering every single one of you. It was empty. It shouldn't be an extra seat. It should be occupied by the silver haired Frenchman. Avdol was most bothered by it. It was obvious in his silence and disturbed facial expressions.

Eventually, Avdol stood, "Excuse me, I need some air." He casually left the table and went outside.

After five minutes, you spoke, "He didn't just go out to get some air, did he?" You look up and around the table.

They all shook their heads. The somber mood turned tense as everyone stood up at once and rushed out of the building. Without another word spoken, everyone split up. Jotaro went one way, Joseph went another, Kakyoin took a different route, and you went running where your gut told you to go. Eventually, you felt relieved to see Avdol's familiar red robes in the distance. You caught up with him, and became happier when you saw him tackle Polnareff. Concern quickly took over though when you saw a bullet fly by, nearly missing Polnareff.

You jumped in front of them, using Knight's Cup to create a barrier just to cover you, Avdol, and Polnareff. A bang rang out, and you felt a small throbbing pain in your stomach. It felt like someone grabbed a piece of your skin and ripped it out. But nothing had actually hit you. You focus on the cloudy figure in front of you. A cowboy with a gun. He shot at your barrier, which really did nothing but pain you.

"Does this guy even have a Stand? He's shooting a gun-" You were confused until Polnareff interrupted,

"That is his Stand!" Polnareff got up and dusted himself off.

Avdol did the same. "Lower the barrier, [Y/N]. All three of us can take him on." Avdol began to summon his Stand.

Polnareff already had Silver Chariot out. You nod, and as you were about to remove the barrier, you felt a great pain in your backside. It was different than having your barrier hit. Something was physically stabbing your backside. You groaned as your body reacted by arching. Your barrier went down.

"[Y/N]!" Both Avdol and Polnareff yelled at once. They tried to rush to you, but another bang rang out.

Everyone was caught off guard. Avdol was shot in the head. He collapsed in front of Polnareff and beside you. You tried to remain standing as the sharp object within you was removed.

"Avdol!" Polnareff yelled out, now focusing his attention on Avdol. 

You tried to attack the cowboy with a barrier, but a bullet can move faster than you. You felt the horrendous pain of a bullet entering your chest and nearly piercing your heart. The blood spilling from your back had already soaked you in its warmth. It only got warmer when your chest began to bleed as well. You couldn't stay up anymore. You fell backward, now spilling blood in the dry sand of Calcutta. The sand easily soaked it all up.

"No! [Y/N]!" Polnareff was now knelt between you and Avdol.

"Polnareff! Avdol! [Y/N]!" Kakyoin had come running. Everything happened so fast. 

Kakyoin had arrived just as Avdol and you were shot. He could do nothing. Neither could Polnareff. In just one minute, two people had died. At least, that is what was believed.

__

You couldn't protect Avdol, you only hoped for the best. But you knew you couldn't beat a bullet. Your barrier had gone down and so when you saw where Hol Horse was aiming, you put a half barrier over your heart. You couldn't protect whatever damage Hanged Man had done. If you'd known Avdol was going to get shot at, you would have put a barrier around him.

Right now, your only chance of survival was not bleeding out. Unfortunately, Polnareff and Kakyoin didn’t realize you were still alive. They ended up driving off, away from Hol Horse but being chased by J. Geil. Little had you known, you would be rotting next to Avdol’s dead corpse. Soon, hope for survival diminished. You were slowly slipping. You didn’t know how you lasted as long as you did. As things began to fuzz between reality and the great beyond, you heard the commotion of people surround you and Avdol. You could hear Joseph and Jotaro speaking.

“A-Avdol..? [Y-Y/N]..?” It was a shell shock for the old man. He groaned in distress as he looked at his friends’ dead bodies.

Jotaro was most upset. He was staring right at his girlfriend’s corpse. Blood spilled from your back and your chest. He staggered.

“J-Jotaro… You shouldn’t have to see her like this..” Joseph looked over at his grandson with pity and sorrow.

“[Y/N].” Jotaro’s usual tone was dry, almost cracking under the wave of emotions that crashed into him, toppling his strong form.

The teen’s eyes were wide, full of horror, shock, and pure sadness. She couldn’t be dead. They were just eating an hour ago. She wasn’t dead. Jotaro took a step forward, falling to his knees in front of her lifeless body. Who had done this? If he were to find out, he’d give them Hell, and then some. He gritted his teeth. Why did this have to happen? To him? To her? To [Y/N]? Couldn’t he do something? Anything?! He had one of the most powerful Stands and yet all he could do was remain still and allow the depression to roll in. How could he further this journey to save a woman he loved when he would lose another lady he loved? How would he cope? He would just have to. Do what he did best. Bottle up his emotions.

But- there was something. Something his Stand’s hearing could pick up. He was shocked now. Less negative, more positively. Was it shallow breathing? A very faint heartbeat? Yes.

“Jotaro-” Joseph tried to comfort the teen, but Jotaro wasn’t having it.

“Shut it, old man.” Jotaro swung his hand up to Joseph, signaling for him to shut up. “I hear something.”

“Jotaro, I know it can be hard, I have experienced this before, but-”

“Shut up!” Jotaro yelled, “I think- I think [Y/N]’s alive.”

“What? Jotaro are you sure?” Joseph was shocked, but was doubtful. It could be denial, or perhaps Jotaro finally lost his marbles.

“Yes. I can hear her.” Jotaro quickly responded, shuffling back to his feet and scrambling to you. “[Y/N]. [Y/N]!” He took hold of your limp form and began to shake you a bit, slightly waking you.

You groaned out of reaction to the sudden movement. You still remained relatively unconscious. Jotaro was suddenly relieved. He sighed, almost chuckling out of happiness.

“A-- Avdo-l…” You slur out, barely able to really think.

“Is Avdol alive too?” Joseph was curious as he went over to his friend’s body.

Jotaro could only hear your life. Avdol was dead. Jotaro shook his head, relieved his love was alive, but sad his friend was dead. Right then and there, they had to figure out what to do. As immoral as it may be, you alive was more important than their already dead friend. But, they agreed that Jotaro would take you to treat your wounds while Joseph would bear the burden of having to give his fallen friend a shotty funeral.

***

You would awaken, alive, not necessarily well, but alive. You quickly shot up from your laid down position, immediately regretting it as pain soared from your back to your entire body. You suck on your teeth and groan, instantly falling back down onto the ground you were laying on. Jotaro was there, waiting for you to return to the world. The black haired teen quickly ran to your side, making sure you were okay.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He began to question you, still worried.

“I- Ugh- I’m fine, Jojo. Polnareff got attacked, me and Avdol-” At the mention of his name, you turned your head around to see if he was also there, “Where is Avdol? Is he okay? He got shot. Jotaro, Avdol got shot! Is he-!?” You began to panic quickly, almost breaking into a sob just remembering the scene.

Jotaro’s shaking of his head interrupted you. It left you speechless. A singular silent gesture left you gasping for words. You moved back to sitting up. You grabbed Jotaro and pulled him into a hug. Jotaro was surprised and fell into it, unsure of how to react. You grabbed at his back, getting a grip into his black jacket, basically clawing into his backside. You choked on the sobs that hiked through your throat. For a moment, Jotaro just let you break into him. Though the edgy teen did realize that maybe hugging back would be good. Cautiously and slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back for comfort. He didn’t apply too much pressure due to the stab wound on your back and the small bullet wound in your chest.

Jotaro could really only utter two words for you; “I’m sorry.”

___

E N D

[queenangst]

Hey, do you know any fics like "things my heart used to know" by alonintherain? Like alternate universes and things like that

i feel like that’s a good question to ask @captainkirkk​. but you are correct in that i am the purveyor of fic recs, so let’s see what i can put together!

i’m not sure what specifically about things my heart used to know you’re looking for (general AUs, time loops, time travel) so i’m just going to be reccing fics hopefully that fit into those categories. if you’re looking for something else or have another idea please let me know!

some of these you can already find in: my ‘fic rec’ tag / bnha fic rec tag / weekly fic roundups

Time Travel AUs: 

Secondhand by achievingelysium

gen; 17k; chapters 5/? ongoing; nana, all might, gran torino, midoriya

A healing Quirk cannot raise the dead. Instead, they say, time heals all wounds. Shimura Nana wakes up in a future that is completely unknown to her. A future that she is apparently not a part of.

What do you do when your future is failure?

A story about death, and time, and healing. And living.

notes: please read my fic :) 

The Erasure of Eraserhead by RomaStache

gen; 48k; chapters 12/? ongoing; aizawa, yamada, all might, class 1-a

Being a hero is about averting tragedies and saving the people you can- but sometimes that’s just not good enough. The USJ Massacre resulted in too many body bags with too few answers, sending shockwaves that threatened to topple the entirety of hero society. At the center of the storm, UA homeroom teacher Eraserhead is given an unexpected opportunity to set things right. Sent back in time by a former student’s powerful quirk, teenager and aspiring hero Aizawa Shouta must dramatically alter the timeline to avert a tragic future.

Reliving the last 15 years of his life is a price he’s willing to pay.

notes: this fic is pretty dark (see: massacre) but it’s also, in my opinion, absolutely filled with comedy. it’s a blast. i had a great time reading this. i’m also fueled by angst, so take this with a grain of salt.

hollow lungs by dreamtowns

gen; 12.9k; chapters 6/? ongoing; todoroki family, todoroki & class 1-a

When Shōto is eleven, Fuyumi asks if he’d like to watch a movie with her and their brothers, and he looks at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

notes: i haven’t actually read this fic, but it’s a time travel messy fic. i trust the author. so i’m reccing it. 

look at us now by dreamtowns

gen; 3.9k; chapters 1/1 complete; class 1-a, minor/background relationships

On a mission, ten or so years into the future, a few members of Class A arrest a villain with a time travel quirk. They switch places with their younger selves one at a time.

It is very inconvenient.

notes: a fun time travel fic! 

yesterday i died, tomorrow's bleeding by Child_OTKW

gen; 19k; chapters 3/? ongoing; midoriya & aizawa, class 1-a

Izuku frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know you.” Aizawa said bluntly. “You said you were my student, once, wherever you came from – that you were a part of my current class, but I’d never seen you before you showed up at the USJ.”

In which after a fight, Izuku found himself in a world much like his own, but with one key difference.

notes: this fic does not update frequently but i love this fic. i miss it so much. it’s so good. the premise is just fantastic. 

Ticked Off by Xenolis

gen; 201k; chapters 55/? ongoing; midoriya & class 1-a, aizawa, all might

Midoriya Izuku attracted trouble. It was just a fact of life – the sky was blue, the grass was green, and Izuku constantly found himself in an absurd number of deadly situations.

He was okay with that. Mortal peril was an average Tuesday afternoon for a Pro Hero like him. Being kidnapped was practically a holiday. Saving civilians as a building collapsed around him was easier than facing his worried mum afterwards. He had dealt with All Might's disappointed dad stare and only cried for two hours afterwards.

A serial killing villain with an unknown Quirk would be no problem!

...but even Izuku had to admit that being sent back in time to his first day at UA wasn't on the agenda. Still, there was no-one more spitefully determined than him – he was going to make the most of it.

Yeah, good luck, heroes and villains alike! Deku was here to cause mischief and love his friends!

notes: who doesn’t read ticked off honestly. iconic time travel fic. 

Quantum Displacement by ChiwiTheKiwi

gen; 23.5k; chapters 4/? ongoing; midoriya & everyone

“What is your name?”

The man gingerly raises his head, enough so that now Naomasa at least has view of his eyes past the green curls that hang down over his forehead. He repeatedly opens his mouth as if to respond, though no words come forth. Eventually, he simply closes his eyes for a solid minute before reopening them. They land on him first, then move to contemplate the handcuffs that still restrain his wrists to the table. Finally, both of them lock eyes, and Naomasa can see the newly found sense of composure. His lips part, and he speaks.

“My name is Midoriya Izuku.”

notes: i love this fic. thank you chiwi. i would do many an embarrassing thing for this fic. 

Remembrance by Gentrychild

gen; 15.8k; chapters 3/3 complete; ofa holders

During a random errand, Izuku is hit by a quirk that sends him back in time, back when the Symbol of Peace was nothing more than an idea.

notes: thank you gentry we love to see it. time travel! meeting the past ofa holders! yes!

Time Loop AUs: 

Closing the Loophole by blackice

multi; 17.1k; chapters 1/1 complete; gran torino/nana, nana & toshinori

Toshinori inadvertently uses One for All to enact a time-loop the evening Nana fights All for One. And just like that, over and over, the board is reset.

notes: i absolutely loved this fic and i absolutely think more people should read it. 

One Thing After Another by DrAphra

f/m; 13.4k; chapters 1/1 complete; dabi/miruko (minor), dabi & miruko 

Miruko was in the middle of a fight when she got the call that Hawks and Endeavor were in danger.

She leaves the fight, never knowing that she'd been hit with a time loop quirk - not realizing that she would pass it on to the next person she touched. It's something she finds out the hard way, when she kicks Dabi in the face... and then finds herself facing him again. And again. And again.

In between time loops, the heroine and villain reluctantly get to know each other.

notes: such a fun interesting premise and dynamic. crack treated seriously in the best way. 

hope this helps! let me know if you’re looking for something else

[polar534]

Hockey Injury Pt. 1

So Hockey AU was... surprisingly more popular then I thought. Which is good, because I still have ALOT written down about it, and I intend to add more. (It's become a bit of a coping mechanism to write about.) So, in the set-up post I warned that I had a bunch of notes regarding Amity's hockey injury. Well, welcome to a 3-parter folks! That's right. I've got that much written.

Anyways, this first part will be a general text-dump summary of events, the second will be a Luz centered more detailed 'story' about what happened on the ice. And the third will be focused on both girl's healing after the fact.

So vague explanations and warnings aside. Have part 1. Under the cut cause I have ~problems~

In essence. Amity gets like... really injured. It's bad. Like she is laid up in a hospital bad. They don't even have time to get her to the demon dimension where they usually take her when she gets injured (because different biologies and hiding her witchiness), so she gets taken specifically in Camilla's hospital.

They were only barely able to sneak her away from the emt's on duty at the game.

The team becomes immediately suspicious and HIGHLY concerned but they can't do anything because Amity is hurriedly rushed out of the place and to the hospital. Camilla is completely freaked but she also knows this could be much more serious then anyone realizes, because if they take Amity to get the help she needs right now, they'll find out she is a witch. She barges into the hospital first and pulls aside the doctor she works for and explains, completely deadpanned, that the other girl who lives with them is a witch from a different dimension but there's no other place to take her.

Luz is in the hallway with Amity, and is completely shutting down. She is barely holding it together. She knows it's bad because she's only ever seen her mom like this once. And that was when Luz got deathly ill with the flu one year. Amity is barely conscious so there's no need for Luz to be brave.

Luz is alone and terrified. She's spiraling.

The doctor, having worked with and been taken care of by Camilla for years agrees in a heartbeat to not only treat Amity but to make sure the entire treatment is confidential. They get the xray's back and its serious. The broken bone has cut a major vein inside Amity's shoulder. She's bleeding out. They don't have time to worry about the different make up. They rush her into surgery and Camilla needs to be a part of it.

Luz is alone. Waiting.

She knows there's a chance Amity... is just not coming back.

She knows there's a chance of losing her.

And Luz completely shuts down.

During this time, the team secretly tracks down where the family went. As soon as someone pulls it up on their phone, they ditch all of their equipment and leave immediately, mid-match, much to the other's teams confusion.

They crash into the hospital, rushing past the nurses and security trying to stop them. They find Luz out in the hallway from the surgery room, and she's fully awake, but she's unresponsive. They can't get an answer out of her. So they sit there with her. Completely silent. Waiting.

The staff eventually catches up with the teens, but where they expect to find a bunch of rowdy teenagers, instead they find deathly quiet kids, all quiet in fear, they know there was warning put out to all the staff about privacy regarding this emergency surgery. So they buzz off and leave the teens be.

Nobody speaks a word, nobody moves a muscle until Camilla pokes her head out of the room, a couple of hours later. The team all become responsive and alert but Luz doesn't budge.

Camilla understands immediately. Knowing too many people will be overwhelming for Amity while she recovers she beckons Luz in first.

Luz, moves slowly, like a zombie. The team being extremely concerned about both girls but they have each other.

Amity is awake when Luz comes in.

Luz stiffly walks over to her and Amity knows something's wrong. Something broke her girlfriend.

"So. This is where your mother works right? It's so much more clean then the hospitals in the Isles." Amity points out, completely seriously.

Luz cracks. She is so incredibly relieved that she sobs, with a massive smile on her face.

"That's... that's not good Amity!"

It breaks both of the girls and they both laugh and cry as they have a soft moment. Luz updates her on everything that happened after she fell unconscious.

Camilla on the other hand is informing Eda and Lilith what has happened. Some members of the team leave the hallways to find some food and overhear their conversation. Specifically the frequent use of the word: Witch.

***

The next couple of days are spent with Amity being laid up in bed at home, with Luz absolutely spoiling her and fussing over her to the point of annoyance.

King, Eda and Lilith all go to the human realm to check up on their Blight child the night of the injury, Eda and Lilith are concerned but they also know Camilla has an absolute handle on the situation. They trust her to take care of Amity and promise to visit daily until she's better, warning the poor witch that they'll be telling the twins and Willow and Gus first thing in the morning. (Which was a whole thing) King... dallies at the portal to go home that night. Luz picks up on the little guy's worry immediately and knows he won't just admit to wanting to stay with the girls.

So she insists on stealing him for the night, for therapy of course and King takes the hint and runs with it. Insisting that his subjects NEED him.

This makes Luz feel much better because Camilla insists that Luz cannot miss classes despite her girlfriend being bedridden. So she entrusts King to take care of Amity. Which is a relief to King and Amity, because Amity is kinda tired of being babied and King isn't one to baby. He'll take care of her, but they mostly just chill out together and complain. King curling up on Amity's stomach while they both rest.

Meanwhile the team is concerned as well. They discuss the idea of Luz at first being the witch the mother was talking about, because it just kinda fits with her being quirky and an outsider to most everyone else.

So they confront her on it one day when they go to check on Amity, as she's walking them out.

Luz. Finds. This. Hilarious.

She loves it and is so incredibly excited because 1. They know now. And 2. They aren't afraid!! They aren't mad, just worried as to why the girls would keep it a secret.

However they got something wrong. And that's who the biological witch is. Luz points out the teeth and the ears and it suddenly clicks.

Amity is a witch.

Cue that night, Luz getting chewed out by Amity for telling them, but the girls both really giddy that they now have another place they don't have to hide in. They make a plan to have a serious discussion with the team about the need for secrecy.

But more angst. Back to the days immediately following the injury, Camilla comes in one night while Luz is visiting Eda and Amity is alone.

She has a serious talk with Amity about the danger she was in, and just how hurt she had gotten. Camilla wants to be honest and straightforward with her. Amity could've died that night. She brings up the idea that maybe the witch may want to reconsider her decision to continue next year. Just that Camilla will never stop worrying about her. Its soft and gentle and Camilla really is just concerned about her.  

Amity is quiet that night when Luz comes home. (She can't spend the night anywhere without her girlfriend, no matter how much she loves Eda) Quieter then Luz has seen her in a long time.

It worries Luz, but she just holds her girlfriend extra tight, knowing that Amity will talk to her when she's ready. That's their agreement.

The next day, Amity tells Luz she is quitting Hockey.

The witch is in tears and its incredibly obvious that she doesn't actually want to quit the sport. Luz begs her to explain and Amity breaks down and tells her that its her fault, and that she's been so selfish to worry Camilla like this. That she needs to quit. She fucked up. She got hurt and it made Camilla, Luz and everyone so incredibly worried.

Her toxic upbringing is coming back, the damage her parents did on her not quite leaving, Amity truly believes that she has deeply upset and offended Camilla and then that worry stetches into her team and Luz. That she needs to correct the problem that she made for other people.

Luz takes her by the shoulders, very seriously and tells her that Camilla loves her. Unconditionally. That worry comes not from a place of inconvenience, but out of care. That her mother would be 100x more upset if Amity sacrificed something she cared about, just to make Camilla feel more comfortable.

Luz admits to worrying about losing her, but she also gushes about just how HAPPY hockey has made Amity and how she loves seeing that happiness on Amity.

How incredible it looks on her.

Luz then proceeds to get Willow and Gus to come crashing through the portal to which they explain, Gus methodically and scientifically, and Willow from the heart, that Amity is doing wonderful and its clear that she is enjoying herself.

They original squad all have a night of support for Amity. Because that's just what a family does. Camilla overhears most of what Amity fears and let's her daughter and her friends handle it. Though she feels awful about how she made the girl feel like that worry was because Amity did something wrong. She takes a field trip to the demon dimension to talk with Lilith and Eda who explain that she's doing wonderfully. That not every parent is perfect or can be. They tell her everything that night about Amity's parents. Most of which Camilla has pieced together from the time Amity had been living with her, but alot of it is still shocking. Horrifying.

Its a night of healing and learning all around.

[jawritter]

Second Chance

Part 2 (Final)

Warning: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited/requited love, young mistakes, light smut, unprotected smut, depression, panick attack, language, domestic voilence (a slap), I think that’s it.

Summary: No one has life figured out at 18, but can one mistake made and twenty-one years of hurt and regret be fixed with an “I’m sorry?”

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3885

A/N: This is one of my older stories from WattPad that I wanted to bring over here and clean up a little. This is completely unbeta’d, and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold! Part two will be posted tomorrow! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen pulled his baseball cap down lower over his face to hide his features from unsuspecting passing customers, his eyes glued on the door, as he ideally ran his finger over the rim of his coffee that had gone virtually untouched in front of him as he sat in the back booth at the little coffee shop in Dallas that he quite honestly couldn’t even remember the name of.

Jessie had said she'd meet him here over an hour ago, now she was late, and he was quickly losing his patients.

The coffee shop was already filling again for the second time since Jensen had taken his seat. He watched the people closely, afraid at any moment someone was going to figure out who he was and blow his cover. 

He'd gotten pretty good at hiding mind you, he'd been doing it since he was roughly eighteen years old, so he'd learned a few tricks to keep people kind of at bay when he really didn't want them around, or want to be noticed.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and shot Jessie the third text of the morning.

"Where the fuck are you?! I've been waiting for you for over an hour!"

Sitting the phone back down on the counter he waited for her reply, but no response. There were even more people filtering in and out of the coffee shop now, she must not be coming. It's probably for the best if he just leaves, and gets her to meet him somewhere else later. The longer he sat there, the longer he ran the risk of someone he knew walking in, or some fan figuring out who he was.

He’d just shoved the phone back down deep in his front pocket and was about to pick up his coffee and head towards the door when the shrill ding announcing someone’s entrance into the little shop made him look up, finally she was here.

Jensen watched her as she made her approach with a cold, dead look he usually reserved for his ex-wife. She looked at him completely unfazed by his sour temper as she made her way closer, and flopped down at the little table across from him. 

“What took you so fucking long?" Jensen almost snarled. 

"Fuck you asshole, I can walk out of her right now, and without me, you have zero chance with Y/N again? So what's your choice? You can either start treating me with some respect, or you can figure out how to get her to talk to your sorry ass all by yourself? Dealer's choice." she said coldly, looking at him like he was the most disgusting thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Fine, fine!" Jensen said, throwing his hands up in frustration and then glaring at her like if he could get away with it, and she wasn't a girl, he'd probably punch her in the face.

Another few moments or so silence passed with the two of them glaring at each other while Jensen's blood pressure simmered back down to a normal rate before he dared to speak again. 

"So, have you talked her into going out again?" Jensen said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

"No." 

"Well, then why the fuck did you say you wanted to talk to me! If you don't have information for me on where she's going to be then you're not...."

"Jensen!" 

"Ssshhhh!! Someone will recognize me!!" 

"Ugh!! I'll be so glad when the two of you kiss and makeup so I don't have to look at you anymore!"

"Feelings mutual, sweetheart!"

About that time Jessie's phone started to ring, effectively ending the argument between them. Looking down she saw it was Sherry and quickly silenced it. Jessie was already late for work, and if she kept this up she was going to get fired, and also caught in the middle of this drama, which is exactly what she had told Jensen she didn’t want to happen when he’d messaged her, asking for her help in fixing his fuck up.

"Look, let's just get this over with, I don't want people to know I'm still in Dallas, they'll start to ask questions," Jensen said with a huff of frustration, sinking lower into the booth seat.

"Fine, Y/n will not leave her apartment again, not with us or with anyone else. She's been locked in her apartment since the night we dropped her off when we left the bar, she's been working from home, she hasn't left the house at all. It's almost like she's slipped into some sort of depression. I don't think we're going to get her to go out with us again, so we might have to take a different approach." Jessie said, staring coldly at that man sitting across from her.

"Okay, then what do you suggest we do? " Jensen said, taking his hat off and carding his hands through his soft hair in frustration before putting the cap back in place harshly.  

Your POV:

It had been three weeks since you saw Jensen at the bar that night. It had set you back worse than you thought it ever could. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his face. You'd even been dreaming of him more than you had in the last three years. It wasn't healthy to say the least, and you were seriously starting to wonder if you had just dreamed it up, and had that nervous breakdown your therapist had warned you about.

All the progress you had made over the years in getting over him had seemed to spiral, and it had taken you three days to even get out of the bed once you stumbled through the apartment door. 

There was no doubt in your mind that after all these years you were still in love with this man, even though you were sure he'd ever loved you. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Over and over again you kicked yourself over the past three weeks for not accepting his offer to just talk. That damn ring when you saw it on his hand was like being nailed in the gut, by a ball pin hammer, just as hard as he could swing it.

He'd been able to do what you couldn't. He'd been able to move on, he'd been able to find love, and here you were alone. 

You hated him, but you loved him. To you that made no sense whatsoever, but there it was. 

You hated him for abandoning you all those years ago, you hated him for pushing you away, when all you'd ever done was love him, you hated him for giving up on you.

You loved him because it was something you just couldn't control. The way he smiled, those beautiful jade-colored eyes that always seemed to dance with an air of mischief that made your knees weak. You could still remember his scent, the way his strong arms felt when they wrapped around you all those years ago. You loved him because just with one smile he made your heart feel like it could leap out of your chest and fly around the room, you loved him, and for a lot of reasons, you didn't even know why still you did.

There were no denying things had changed in him. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see that boy you fell in love with in Dallas was long gone, and a man had taken his place. The deep lines around his eyes, the way he carried himself, strong, confident. His voice was much deeper than it was back then, and even though his eyes were the same, the grey in his beard told you the boy he was back then was long gone, and really, you were in love with someone you didn’t even know anymore. He was a far cry from the boy that had taken your virginity all those years ago. 

He’d lived, and you hadn’t, simple as that.

He chose money, fame, and fortune over you. You would have given him everything, a family, a warm home to come home to. 

Then again, you guessed he'd found someone to do that for him, so again that rendered you useless.

Supernatural had been playing on your TV through Netflix for days. You just couldn’t stop watching it, and you couldn't stop kicking yourself. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and more than anything, you couldn't fill the hole that was in your chest, one that had almost closed, and was just a piece of you that was missing, now was ripped open and bleeding, and there was no way to make it go away.

Thank God your job allowed you to work from home. You just could do it. You couldn't deal with people, not in person, you couldn't go pretty yourself up and act like everything was fine, because it wasn't fine, and you didn't feel pretty. 

You weren't pretty enough for Jensen all those years ago, and you're not enough for him now, so why even try?

A loud knock on the door disturbed you from your self-loathing.

It was probably Sherry or Jessie. They were just worried about you, you know that, but you just hadn't been able to face them. The way you just completely broke down in the Uber on the way home was just embarrassing, and the fact that you couldn’t seem to pick yourself back up again was borderline humiliating on a whole different level.

Now apparently they'd given up on calling you and had just decided to show up. Well, you were a little impressed it had taken them this long actually.

"Go away! I don't feel like talking yet." 

Nothing, just another pounding knock on the door in response.

After sitting there a moment in confusion, you remembered Sherry knew where the spare key was, so it couldn’t be them. Getting up slowly you made your way to the door, pulling it open you looked through the crack and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass.

"JENSEN!" you half yell, shocked to see that beautiful face on the other side of the door, and for just a moment you thought you were hallucinating. 

"Hey, can I come in or you just going to make me stand out in the hallway?" he said, looking around like he was afraid you were going to slam the door shut in his face. 

To be completely honest you thought about it, you just couldn't deal with the guilt and the “what ifs” this time if you did like you'd been dealing with for the past three weeks.

Pulling the door shut just enough to remove the chain lock that was placed on the door you open it, stepping back and letting him into your apartment. 

When you shut and relocked the door you turned around to find him staring at you, a look of concern painted over his God-like face as his eyes raked over you.

You walk around him and head for the TV, turning it off before he could see himself walking with a flashlight across the screen.

"What are you doing here Jensen?" you ask him, sitting down on the couch to keep your legs from falling out from under you. You didn't realize how weak he still made you, even after all these years.

"I wanted to see you, to talk to you." 

"Why? You said all you had to say to me 21 years ago." you watched as he visibly flinched at your sharp words. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I was young and stupid, I should have never let you go, I should have never let you walk away from me, I've regretted it since you have. I just haven't been man enough to tell you..." 

Standing up you cross the floor and get right in his face. A boldness you didn't have just five minutes ago springing out of nowhere, and anger burns deep, deep down in your belly. 

"Don’t come at me with your lies Jensen!” you scream at him. 

Bringing your hand up you slap him hard across the face before you could stop yourself. Not able to even control your own actions anymore, all you could see was red.

Your own pulse quickened in your ears as your slap staggered him back against the bar, and his hand flew up to the side of his face that was quickly turning red. You didn’t care, at that moment you didn’t even see it, all you could see was years, and years of hurt, and rejection.

“You’ve suffered so much huh?! With your perfect little wife, and kids that live in a fucking mansion on the lake in Austin! You really just expect to walk back into my life, say your sorry, and all the years of hurt would just magically go away? Fuck you!

You raised your hand to slap him again, but this time he caught it with his left hand, standing to tower over you he backed you against the wall, pinning you there with his solid form, using his sheer size and body weight to hold you there and keep you from hitting him again.

Through all the anger, through all the hurt, through the blinding tears that were now rolling down your face, there were two things you registered. First was the overwhelming feeling of his body weight pressing you, grounding you, and by some miracle, pulling you back down from your fit of rage his apology had triggered. 

The second and most important thing was that his wedding band was gone.

All your strength at that moment was gone.  The adrenaline crash hit you hard, and your knees buckled, a loud ringing taking the place of your pounding pulse in your ears, and your vision going white at the edges.

Jensen reached down and scooped you up into his arms before you could hit the floor, pulling you tight to his chest and bringing you over to the couch. Sitting down this you wrapped his arms, cradled in his lap like a small child. 

It was hard to breathe as the tears flowed down your face now, your chest felt so tight that you were almost certain you were breathing through a straw, even though your breath was coming in pants, the overwhelming feeling of passing out made your head spin, and your body began to shake.

Jensen shushed you over and over again, running his fingers through your hair, which gave you something else to focus on. “Breath for me Y/n, come one breathe with me.” 

You focused on the steady rise, and fall of his chest against you, the scent of his cologne, the steady brush of his hand through your hair, and before long you were able to focus enough to take a breath.

“That’s it, baby girl, fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart, this is all my fault.” 

This was a result of twenty-one years of hurt, hurt that he caused, and he knew it.

When you'd finally calmed down he put a finger under your chin and forced you to look up at him.

"I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry that I did this to you, I'm sorry that I was a fucking coward, I was afraid to find you, afraid to admit I was wrong, I'm sorry it took me twenty-one years to get enough balls to apologize to you. I know that’s enough, but I plan to stick around and do everything I can to make this up to you. I'm not married anymore. I didn't love her, I tried to, I really did, but I just couldn't, So I did the right thing, and I let her go so she could go and find someone that can make her happy."

You sat there staring at him like he'd popped out a third head. You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming, or if you were dead. 

"So I came here to find you, the one person that has ever really made me happy. Your parents wouldn't tell me where you were, so I found your friend Jessie, she was going to get you to come to the bar that night so I could try and talk to you. I'm sorry about that too. I didn't know I'd hurt you this way. If I did I wouldn't have sprung myself on you." 

Crawling off of his lap and sitting down on the couch next to him you tried to make sense of what he was telling you.

"So what do you want from me? After all these years, what do you want from me now?"

You tried to understand, but you just couldn’t. Hell if you weren’t good enough all those years ago to make him want you, why the hell did he think you would be enough now?

Moving to the floor, Jensen got down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands in his. He looked like it took all the strength he had not to start crying himself, which only made more tears flow from you as you watched him bite down on his lower lips for a moment before he spoke.

"I want a second chance with you, I know I have no right to ask you for one, and you have every right to tell me to fuck off, and if you do I'll leave, and I'll never come back If that's really what you want, but sweetheart please, please give me a chance to fix this. Let me fix what I broke all those years ago." 

His thumb made little circles on the back of your hand, and he broke eye contact with you, looking down at the floor as he waiting for you to tell him to go fuck himself.

All those years you'd prayed he'd come back. All those years you'd dreamed he wanted you again. Here he was, and if you didn't give him another chance now, he was gone for good, and that would be all, you'd die right here, you'd never be able to recover.

Jensen took a shaky breath drawing you back to the present. 

"Please Y/N, say something?" 

Putting your hands on either side of his face you did the only thing your brain would let you do. You pulled him to you, crashing your lips to his. 

At first, he sat there shocked, but he caught up quickly though. Getting off his knees he crawled his large frame over yours, laying you both back down on the couch you were sitting on, holding his weight on you just enough to make you feel safe, for the first time in a long time.

"So I guess that means yes???" he said, lifting a perfect eyebrow and looking at you with the cutest little expression on his face, his eye crinkles showing just enough to make your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you got a shit ton of makeup to do Ackles," you tell him through tears, smacking him on his solid chest playfully.

"Well darlin’, let me start now," he said, bringing his lips softly back to yours before standing and dragging you with him, pulling you towards the open door of your bedroom.

Your mind worked on autopilot as he backed you into the room, closing the door with his large foot, and like jolts of electricity being shocked to a still heart, every lingering touch of his hands trailing your body, and every passionate kiss that made you breathless seemed to wake you up again. 

This wasn’t some quickie in the back of his truck in the middle of the wood. There was no rush to this, there was no hurry in the way he lowered your body on the bed, and crawled his way over every inch of skin, leaving a trail of kisses he went. 

There was no uncertainty in the way he looked into your eye as he pressed himself slowly into you, rocking slow and deep, stretching you, in the most intimate way possible, breathing life back into you as his lips found yours again in a slow lazy kiss, as he continued to work you both higher in an almost painfully slow pace. 

This wasn’t going to fix it all together, twenty-one years was a lot of time, and there was a lot of damage, to the both of you, but the way his body moved inside of yours, the promise that he made not only with his words, but with his body, and with his soul that he’d never leave you, never hurt you again, it brought you back in a way that you thought was long dead to you. 

When your release came, and he held you close to him, your name falling from his lips as he spilled himself deep inside of you, you felt like your heart really started to beat for the first time. 

There were still a lot of unanswered questions, and there were some things you just never wanted to know. Right now as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around, and caging your body close to him, promising to never let you go again would be enough. 

Not everyone gets the second chance the two of you were having now, and this time you would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took, because he was the other half of your heart, and it just didn’t beat if he wasn’t there.

Jessie's POV:

“I can’t believe you sent him here!” Sherry hissed as Jessie dug around for the spare key to your apartment. 

It had been hours since she had sent Jensen here to try and talk to you, and they had heard nothing. Then when Jessie let it slip on her lunch break what had been going on with Jensen and herself over the past couple of weeks, Sherry had blown her top, and insisted on coming to check on them.

“Would you shut up! I’m sure they’re fine!” Jessie hissed back, finding the key and turning the knob slowly. 

The apartment was quiet as the two women pushed the door open, and closed it silently behind them. 

“If he’s done something to hurt her I swear to God!” Sherry hissed again, making her way over to where Jessie was standing by the bar, staring through a crack in Y/N’s bedroom door.

She pointed towards it, and Sherry silently made her way to peek inside, seeing Jensen and Y/N curled into one another sound asleep, clothes strewn all over the floor, and long forgotten. Sherry smiled to herself as he turned around and looked back at Jessie, who was leaning against the bar, grinning like she’d won the war, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here, I think those two are gonna be just fine.” She said, leading Sherry towards the door, and closing the door to the apparent behind them. Leaving the world outside unknowing, while two hearts did what it took to heal.

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

Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

[astoldbycrimson]

Bring Me Back to Life

Summary: You and Din were always protecting each other. It’s never a conscious thought, just a natural instinct at this point.

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: injuries, mentions of violence, angst, and sweet fluff

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

———————

The concept of love, for many, was a myth that traversed the galaxy. In a time when there was war and carnage, it was a tale long forgotten, written in a language that no one could understand. Death, chaos, and destruction were all some people knew. Din Djarin had been no different. 

He watched as the Empire destroyed his home and wept as he was hidden within a storage cellar. He was helpless as the droids brutally ripped his parents away from him. They nearly took his life too… While the Mandalorians had shown him mercy and raised him as one of their own, the stories of love had died with his family. All those feelings had been lost in the shadows of his mind, buried deep until he eventually forgot where he’d hidden them. 

But then you came along. First, you were just the kind waitress in a cantina on Dathomir. The one with the interesting eyes and pretty smile. And then, deep in the woods of your homeland, you saved his life for reasons he didn’t understand. Your powers were unlike anything he’d ever seen. Somehow you’d managed to talk your way onto the Razor Crest. And slowly, with minimal effort, you mapped out his mind and found each piece he’d buried so long ago. 

While your life hadn’t been without pain, you knew love from the moment you took your first breath. Your mother treasured you more than the heart in her chest. Your father had broken the old jedi way just to bring you into the world. Love was everywhere you looked. Sometimes so abundant that it suffocated you, like when your mother had passed and your village had wept with you. But you never forgot what love felt like. Not like Din did.

Boarding the Razor Crest had been a massive change for you. The air wasn’t filled with the love you had grown accustomed to. Instead it was filled with deafening silence. It smelled of blaster fire, sweat, and blood. And the taste it left on your tongue was incredibly bitter. Never before had anything left you feeling so cold and lonely. It took over a cycle for the stale air to clear. Then love surrounded you once more and that warmth had finally enveloped Din too.

You reminded him every day of just how real love really was. He felt it when you cooked him a hot meal. When you smiled at him so sweet with nothing but adoration in your eyes. Din felt your love when you’d remove his helmet with the utmost care, as if it were made of glass and one wrong move could destroy it forever. When you kissed with such fervor that you stole the air from his lungs. You sang the tales of love so beautifully. Everything was foreign, but with your help, he slowly came to understand.

Love did not come without a price, however. You became reckless as your feelings clouded your judgment. Din was your priority, so you repeatedly put yourself in harm’s way to ensure his safety. In your mind, it was your job to protect him, no matter the cost. Even if it meant you drew your last breath.

You weren’t alone in that feeling. Din, the normally calm and collected veteran hunter, was ready to throw himself between you and the first sign of danger. Even if he knew you could handle the situation, he was unable to stop himself from taking a hit or two. And it was for that very reason that Din was now in near critical condition.

Fortunately you had ended the fight rather abruptly upon seeing him wounded. You had used far too much force to ensure the ending was swift and absolute. Had he been conscious to see it, you’d likely get a scolding. Because you shouldn’t use your extra abilities unless the situation demanded it. He’d come to know what happened to most of the jedi. Din didn’t want that to happen to you.

The fight had left him unconscious and bleeding. He didn’t hear the curses you muttered in your native tongue, even though he’d come to recognize a few from your frequent use of them. Din didn’t hear you whisper that you loved him and to hold on. But you managed to get him back to the ship in record time. Now he was sprawled out your shared cot, seriously wounded but breathing. 

Given your massive overuse of your force abilities, you only had enough energy to make him stable. You’d have to stop the bleeding without using the cauterizer… you feared your shaking hand and his inability to guide you would’ve wounded him worse. So, unfortunately, you had to rely on the old fashioned medkit to treat his wounds until you fully recovered. 

You carefully stripped him of his armor, taking note of where the wounds were on his body. You applied bacta spray to the more pressing ones and bandaged them accordingly. Then you cleaned up the lesser scrapes and cuts, leaving them to air and heal on their own. 

Once every injury was addressed, you washed the blood and dirt off him. Then you dressed him in fresh clothes and set his helmet beside the cot. The wounds wouldn’t heal perfectly overnight, so you’d be required to keep him off his feet for at least a day. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, grabbed his hand, and waited by his side until he stirred.

You stayed there for hours, struggling to stave off your own exhaustion. When you’d start to nod off, you bit your cheek to jolt yourself awake. And you kept his hand in yours, not only to calm your nerves, but so you’d be alerted when he finally stirred. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t last more than 13 hours before your body slumped and you succumbed to your own exhaustion. So Din woke first, brown eyes fluttering open to find you asleep beside him. It would’ve been cute if you hadn’t looked as though you had just fought a war by yourself. There were bags under your eyes and bruises littered your exposed skin. You were still dressed in your dirty clothes, caked with grime and blood.

He immediately tried to sit up, worried about all the blood on you. But the groan that escaped his lips and the sudden jolt of your arm awoke you instantly. It took you a second to find your senses before you were standing and ushering him back onto his back.

“Shh, mulovda, you’re fine. I’m here. Just relax,” you whispered reassuringly. 

“(Y/N)… are you okay?” Of course the first words he uttered would be to ask about your well being. 

“Din, I’m fine. You’re the one who nearly died.” Honestly if you weren’t so worried, you’d be rolling your eyes at him. 

“You…” a groan as he adjusted his position on the cot, “…look terrible." 

A sigh left your cracked lips before you laughed softly. ”…Thanks, Din. You really know how to make a girl swoon.“ 

He chuckled, but it made him stiffen at the pain. "Kriff, (Y/N). Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, used up all my pity when I played doctor last night. You brought that upon yourself for insulting me." 

”…I didn’t mean it like that, (Y/N/N).“

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "I know. You just really set yourself up for that one… How are you feeling?” Your face turned serious as you raised a hand to rest on his cheek.

You noted how he instinctively leaned into your touch. “I’m alive. Been through this and much worse before. How long have I been out?" 

"I lost count after the first 10 hours… Maybe half a day?”

He hissed through his teeth as he tried to rise. Your gentle, but firm hand on his chest kept him down. 

“That’s way too long. Let me up, I need to get us off this planet." 

Your tone was sweet, but stern as you spoke, "Din, we’re safe. They are all dead. We can stay at least another day. Right now you need to rest." 

He was silent a moment. "They’re all… dead?”

“Yes, dead. We’re safe now.”

You sensed the tilt in his head before he opened his mouth. “…How’d you manage that, cyar'ika?” The way he said your little nickname was accusatory. Borderline patronizing. “I remember a very different situation before I blacked out.”

“Your memory is failing you, mulovda. We were doing fine before you tried to play hero. You must’ve hit your head pretty hard,” you laughed as you carded your fingers through his hair. 

“…You’re lying.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Am I? Last I checked you couldn’t read minds, Din.”

He could tell when you lied. Your face was convincing enough for most, but Din knew you better than that. He wasn’t the most social of creatures, but Maker was he observant. He was ready to fight you on it, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the attention you were giving him. So, for now, he’d let it go. 

“Now that you’re awake, I’ll make us a hot meal.” You went to walk away, but a hand circled your wrist.

“The food can wait. I think you should take a minute to wash up, (Y/N).”

You sighed. “Do I really look that bad?”

“…You’re beautiful, cyar'ika. You just… take care of yourself for a minute, okay? I can wait a little longer.” It was obvious that he meant what he said, which had you flushing lightly. He was always so thoughtful when it came to you.

Denying his request would only cause trouble and a shower sounded wonderful after your day. “I’ll just be a minute… promise me you won’t leave this cot, Din.”

Of course he had planned on sneaking up to the cockpit while you were distracted. But you knew him… too well, at times. So he let out a typical Din sigh and nodded. “…I promise.”

You were true to your word and kept your bathing brief. Honestly, you were far too tired to even think of taking a long shower anyway. So you scrubbed off the dirt and grime before washing your hair. Then you were out and in a clean set of clothes, making a hot dinner for your Mandalorian.

It didn’t take long before he was shoveling his face full of your food. Before you, he never got to enjoy the taste. Eating was a necessity, not a luxury. And time was something he didn’t have a lot of. But with you preparing most of his meals, he tried to give himself a moment to really taste the unique blend of spices. To savor his meal for as long as his hunger would allow. 

You, however, were savoring the moment. While you couldn’t see the face he was making, you knew it was a pleasant one. He always seemed to enjoy the food you made. Always grateful for a meal made with love. But you were just grateful to have another moment with him. Thankful to still have someone to cook for. To kiss and hold and love…

Din had come into your life seemingly out of nowhere. Just a Mandalorian that had stumbled upon your father’s cantina. At first he was just a way off your planet. To hone your skills and maybe make a name for yourself. But he quickly became so much more. He made you feel things you’d long forgotten. Had you thinking that maybe fairy tales existed here amongst the stars, on a ship with a Mandalorian named Din Djarin.

And now… now he was practically your world. A beautiful untouched planet that you had been fated to collide with. He didn’t know it, but he saved you in so many unspoken ways. You’d survive if he hadn’t made it, but you know you’d never feel alive again…

“…Why aren’t you eating?” Din had stopped his consumption long enough to eye your untouched plate. 

“Hmm?” You were quickly brought back to reality. “I’m sorry, just a little dazed, I suppose. Please, don’t stop on my account. There’s plenty more after you’ve finished that." 

He set his plate on the table beside him and reached for your cheek. As if he had been reading your thoughts, he said, "I’m here, cyar'ika. You saved me… like you always do." 

"No, Din, it was you who saved me.”

———————

@spacegayofficial @killtherandomness @thatguythatsshy @emyyjemyy @gothtechie @pandaperson51 (thanks for your request!)

[mthofferings2020]

wynnesome

See wynnesome’s existing works here and here.

Preferred contact methods: Discord: wynnesome#4442 Dreamwidth: stargraven

Preferred organizations: - Amazon Conservation Association - Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) - Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) - St. Jude Children's Research Hospital - World Central Kitchen (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Angst wants: Dark characters/themes, unhealthy relationships, questionable power dynamics, shady morals/ethics, under-negotiated kink, dub-con, non-con, miscommunication trainwreck, physical and/or emotional torment, break-it, break-it-worse, ending leaves you bleeding out on the floor. Fluff wants: Banter, wordplay, crack, crack treated seriously, mutual pining, get-together, first-time, porn with feelings, emotionally cathartic sex/kink, aftercare, tooth-rotting-they're-so-married domesticity.

Will not create works that contain: Daddy kink, mpreg, scatplay, underage/de-aged, genderswap, Avengers: Endgame or post-Endgame.

  -- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1239

Will create works for the following relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for a fic that will fall between 1k and 5k. To keep to the word length I'm comfortable committing to, the prompt or starting point needs to be concise. For me and the way I write, that usually means a prompt of no more than a few words to one sentence, defining a central theme or pivotal moment, and then the fic will take shape to bring that about. For general style of my writing, my AO3 has a range, and my Dreamwidth has a bunch of recent angst fics/ficlets. Here are links to two works I've written for Doom and Strange: - Doctor Doom crack/fluff - DoomStrange angst ficlet I haven't posted a lot of Doom or DoomStrange fic yet, but I am raring to go for this ship. I have taken part in many hours of brainstorming and RP for the pairing, and I have a brain full of headcanon and a folder full of ideas I'd like to write for these two. For a prompt that hits me in the right spot, I could also write DoomStrange/Tony Stark. I'd consider writing DoomStrange with a different third, but please ask me if you have something like that in mind. I love Battleworld DoomStrange: God-Emperor Doom and Sheriff Strange, and their canonical partnership. I do like to play with dark, problematic, and manipulative power dynamics in their relationship. If it seems soft, that's probably because somewhere behind it is a knife so sharp you won't feel it till the blood loss hits. But I can also write them in bantery, humorous, and outright ridiculous interactions. On that side, I love their "snipe and bicker but would sacrifice myself for you in a heartbeat" relationship a la Savage Avengers. When I write angst, I tend to focus on breaking it hard rather than fixing it, especially in a shorter fic. However, as long as I feel it's a prompt I can accomplish in under 5k, I'm open to the idea of hurt/comfort, of heavy angst with a positive resolution, or the kinds of lighter angst that come from mutual pining, misunderstandings that will get worked out, etc. Those situations where it hurts along the way, but everything is going to be ok. I write by letting my brain get a hook into a particular idea - or maybe more like, letting a particular idea get its hooks into my brain - to where it takes me over that threshold from "interesting concept" to "I have actual words insistently demanding to be let out now." With that in mind - if you have a very specific idea for a fic you'd like, please contact me before bidding, to make sure it's something I feel like I can hook and be hooked by. Otherwise, please be prepared to chat/brainstorm with me after the auction, so we can come up with an idea that we're both enthusiastic about. OR, I can also take a very small prompt as a starting point and just run with it. By "very small," I mean something like a word prompt or a kink or trope that might be found on a Bingo square. I'd take the prompt, and your preference for the general tone (humor, romance, angst, etc.), roll it around till I land on a compelling hook to get me started, and follow it from there. As far as my pile of "ideas I'd like to write," I'm open to discussing some of those that I think could be accomplished within a 5k fic. Time Frames: I'll be able to begin brainstorming/discussing prompts anytime after the auction week. I do have one pre-existing fic-writing commitment that I aim to finish by the end of 2020. So assuming we've worked out a prompt, I should potentially be available to start writing for this pretty early in 2021. Pinning down actual writing time is tricky, but once I've actually begun writing, a fic of this length usually takes me anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to complete. Please feel free to contact me to talk over any questions or ideas!

Ratings: Teen, Mature, Explicit

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Beta Service --

Auction ID: 2091

Will create works for the following relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Any Universe Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers - MCU Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark - MCU Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616 Tony Stark/Victor von Doom - 616 Jean Grey/Logan/Scott Summers - 616 Tony Stark/Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for beta reading of one fic up to 10k words, or two fics totaling up to 10k words. For beta-reading, barring my DNW, I'm generally wide open for characters, ships, universes, genres, kinks, and tropes, and for gen fics. A fic doesn't have to be "my ship" or "my kink" for me to read with care and give well-considered feedback on your writing, including elements of plot, continuity, characterization, tone, and theme, as presented within the fic itself. That said, my "Wants" and my Relationships section for this auction touch upon characters, ships, and kinds of works I read, write, and engage with the most for my own personal enjoyment. So those are where I'll be able to give the most detailed feedback on more levels, such as character voice, canon storylines, and general fluency with those characters and their worlds. My first Marvel ship is Steve-Tony, and I'm happy to read for them in any universe. I've spent the most time with them in 616, MCU, and early Ults comics, with light knowledge of AvAc, Avengers Assemble, and EMH. DoomStrange is my newer ship that I'm loving a lot: Battleworld God-Emperor Doom/Sheriff Strange; Triumph and Torment; Savage Avengers. Plus other pairings for either character, or threesomes/moresomes with the pair of them involved. Another area I'm VERY much here for is any and all fics related to Jonathan Hickman's X-Men comics: HoXPoX; Dawn of X; X of Swords. I jumped on board with X-Men at HoXPox last year, and am up to date with reading all of the current X-Men titles. I have almost no knowledge of prior X-Men canon, so, as mentioned above, I'm still happily willing to beta for other X-Men works, but I won't have that same degree of connection to canon and characters. As a beta reader, I can work on several levels, ranging from simple SPaG/proofreading, to detailed suggestions for sentence structure, flow, and word choice. I can help advise in regard to (American) English-language phrasing and word usage. I also really enjoy delving into emotional dynamics and thematic development. In terms of personal areas of expertise, I'm a musician and recording engineer. So I can give a lot of "what it's like" and some light scientific "how it works" if you have a fic where someone is a musician, in a band, playing a gig or concert, recording in a studio, or a variety of other possible situations involving the music industry and/or audio and sound systems. I prefer to beta-read in Gdocs where possible, where I can leave a lot of suggestions and comments. My goal is always to help the author feel good about their work and about making it the best it can be. So I appreciate your guidance in ways to give you feedback and/or critique that will be helpful, positive, and constructive for you. If I haven't beta-read anything for you before, I'll want to talk with you before I begin, to get an idea of the kinds of feedback you're looking for. Then I'll probably work through a page or two and wait to go further until you've had the chance to take a look. From there, you can tell me if there's anything I could approach differently, address, or avoid, in order to be more helpful for you. Time Frames/Schedule: I have a couple of pre-existing fandom commitments that I'm aiming to complete before the end of 2020. I'd prefer to say "early 2021" as the soonest I'll most likely be available to fulfill this auction. I give a lot of attention during beta reading, and often work in short sections at a time, over a period of days. For a 10k-ish fic, I might take anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks to work through the entirety. Generally, once I've worked through the fic, I'm also happy to continue exchanging comments, or take a look to see how see how things are working after changes are made. For any questions, please feel free to contact me!

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 18 (12 AM ET) to October 24 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

[gothfoxx]

I read this fic recently where after giving izuku his quirk, all might works him way to hard, forces him to hide his pain from others, and hurts him when he can't hide it. All the while, izuku thinks its normal, and that all might is just trying to help him. could you do a one shot where dadzawa finds out and goes all "you will never touch this child again" mode? please i need comfort after all the angst.

Anon if it’s the fic I’m thinking of...I understand, here’s some comfort and if I can fit it in some Dadzawa fluff🖤

Also I’m using this song as inspiration cause it fits the way Aizawa would be feeling during the whole thing

Also sorry for my sins, I wanted to make it DAD Dadzawa 🙏

All of the students were back with their families for golden week so Aizawa was taking his time to get back home from the meeting with Ally Cat and the other vigilantes. He was going across an alcove that held a hidden beach when he heard the sound of retching. Normally that wouldn’t be enough to draw him in, drunks weren’t worth the trouble if they weren’t causing problems, what did have him looking down into the alcove was the sob that followed. It was the sob of a child, a child he had thought was safely at home with their mother.

Midoriya Izuku was huddling into the back of the alcove, right up against the rock of the short cliff, shivering and dry heaving. He was covered in dark marks and smudges, his shirt was way too thin for the weather and his wasn’t wearing any shoes. In the dark his hair and the smudges looked black while his pale skin looked sickly in the moonlight. Aizawa’s instincts had him jumping down the cliff in an instant, that probably wasn’t the best idea because the small boy flinched and curled into himself like he expected a blow. From here Aizawa could smell iron along with the bile. Midoriya was bleeding.

“Midoriya?” No response, “Midoriya?” Still nothing. Aizawa sat down in front of the boy, minding the sick, and tried again, “Izuku?” The kid’s head snapped up at the use of his first name. “S-Sensei? Why are y-you he-here?” Midoriya asked with chattering teeth. Thanking kami that he was in civilian clothes Aizawa took off his coat and draped it over his student’s trembling shoulders. “Well kid I could ask you that same question, I’m a off duty underground hero. What’s your reason?” He gently reached out and tilted Midoriya’s head so the light hit him better, the kid had a black eye that was swollen shut and a busted lip. “Who did this to you?” His voice remained calm but the instincts that made him jump down here were yelling at him to take this kid and book it. There was a crunch in the sand behind him just as Midoriya’s eyes grew wide and he gasped out “All Might”.

The crunch turned out to be a stray dog that came up to sniff them, whimpering into Midoriya’s side while the boy took to slowly petting its head. It didn’t take an idiot to put together the clues, the kid had a quirk he couldn’t control, he seemed unused to praise, he and Yagi knew each other before class, the low self worth, the clear aftermath of a harsh beating, and the fear at being found by Yagi. Obviously Midoriya was being abused by his father, a man who claimed that the boy was not in fact his. Aizawa had looked into the kid, he knew the boy got his quirk late and he wasn’t a stranger to a father leaving because of a quirk. It was plausible that a dead-beat might come back once he thought his kid was worth something now. “Midoriya does your mother know where you are?” He hopes that she doesn’t, that she wasn’t letting this happen. The boy stiffens and the dog whimpers again trying to snuggle the kid. “N-no, she d-doesn’t n-n-know. She i-is out of town.” Midoriya’s answer rings with a hollow note. “Mid- Izuku, where are you stay while she’s out of town?” The gut feeling is eating at him now chanting a montra of ‘grab him and run, hide’ and he was so close to giving in.

Midoriya didn’t get a chance to answer because another crunch in the sand, this one much heavier announced the arrival of someone else. The dog stood in the kid’s lap and growled. The figure standing behind Aizawa was the skeletal form of Toshinori Yagi. It wasn’t the Yagi or All Might Aizawa was used to and annoyed by, this Yagi had looked less like death was at his door and more like he was the reaper coming to collect his bounty. “Midoriya you shouldn’t run off like that, look you’ve worried this poor man and his dog. Come along we need to go back to the agency.” And if Aizawa hadn’t grown up hearing the same tone of fake concern from his mother or afterwards when dealing with domestic abuse cases he might have fallen for it. Standing up to his full height and letting all the protective rage and childhood fear fuel the fire behind his glare Aizawa growled out, “he isn’t going back with you. He’s never going with you anywhere again! I don’t care if he is your kid or not Yagi, you are never laying a hand on him or going near him again! I’ll make sure of it!” All Might blinks in shock then recognition, “Hello Aizawa, didn’t take you as a dog person. Now why can’t I take my charge back with me? He’s my responsibility.” The titan asked, the threat in Aizawa’s words either not taken seriously or not understood. “Because Yagi, he was scared to death that it was you when I found him. He’s terrified and covered in injuries and blood. You are not getting him back ever.” The anger and panic in his gut turned from a hot feverish wild fire to a freezing acidic poison that laced his every word. He would fight the world’s number one, the devil himself, to protect Izuku.

After a great time of staring each other down All Might yields and takes a step back. “Fine, keep him, but I’ll always be there. He can’t escape his destiny and we’ll always be connected.” He states the last bit towards the boy still cowering behind the dog. The dog growls again and lowers into a fighting stance. “His destiny is his to decide. Being his father doesn’t automatically his dad, it doesn’t make you connected. Don’t ever think it does.” Aizawa declares with the wisdom of someone who had to find that knowledge firsthand. All Might scofts and walks away a dismissive wave of his hand.

Aizawa stands there for a long while making sure the skeletal was really gone before he turns back to the two behind him. Izuku is staring with his one good eye like the world had just flipped upside down. As gently as he can muster Aizawa starts talking to Izuku “Hey kid, it’s going to be okay. I know it might not make sense now but you’re safe now, what was happening with you and him was not how anyone should treat you. I won’t let him make you think it’s okay just because you share dna. I won’t let him hurt you again, you’re safe.” The kid still looks so lost but he nods, it looks like it causes him pain though.

“Okay first thing first, medical care.” The boy opens his mouth to argue, “Kid you look worse than I did at USJ please don’t try to fight me on this.” Aizawa pleads as he pulls out his phone and calls Ally Cat, they should still be awake and they have a car. The conversation is short and to the point, Cat will be picking them up with a change of clothes and some flip-flops for the kid and a leash for the stray. “Thanks for doing this Cat, I know it’s short notice.” “All emergencies are short notice Eraser, I got your back.” “See you soon” “you know it” And with that everything is set into motion, slowly but in motion non the less. He looks back at Izuku after he hangs up, the kid is dozing off with his hands in the dog’s fur. If it wasn’t for the injuries and time of night Aizawa could pretend that they were just at the beach for the peaceful silence. He figured he could take them to a different beach, make better memories, once the kid wasn’t beat to hell and back. “Huh, guess I have a kid and dog now. Mic and everyone aren’t going to let me live this down.” He muses just as a black mini-van pulls to the side of the road above them. “Cat must have been worried” he huffs as he carefully scoops up Izuku and heads around the side of the aclove and up to the road, dog loyaly following.

Izuku had three cracked ribs, neck and shoulder injuries like that of a retired boxer, and a fractured cheek bone. The doctor was suspicious of the duo when they came into the hospital but after Aizawa showed him his hero ID and explained it as an abuse case the worried anger faded. Aizawa didn’t blame the man for thinking the worst. As they waited for more tests to come back and the boy to wake up from the use of a healing quirk Aizawa called Nezu to inform him about what had happened and they made plans to have Yagi removed from the school quickly & quietly. After that the kid was still sleeping and the doctors saw he wouldn’t be waking for a least another hour or two so Aizawa texted Cat about the dog.

E: is it chipped

A: nope

E: can your friends have it checked over and chipped today?

A: sure but it’s not an it she’s a lovely shiba mix

E: ok thanks

A: anytime, you adopting just the dog or?

E: he has a mom

A: :/ you know what I mean

E: yeah I do and yeah

A: cool! I get to be the cool auncle! Dibs!

E: why are all my friends like this?

A: cause you like the affection:p

E: no you

He ignores the next text because Izuku wakes up. The kid looks lost again, just rotating his arm with the iv in it and mumbling to himself. “Hey champ, you fell asleep before we got you here.” Aizawa explains slowly because the pain meds might be messing with the kid’s head. The kid just looks up at him with pinched eyebrows and confusion,”we?” His voice is so small and dry, Aizawa grabs a cup and fills it up from the sink in the room they are in. “Yeah my friend drove us here. They took the dog to a vet to get checked over too.” He elaborates as Izuku drinks the water. “If you want to we can keep her, the dog I mean, she isn’t chipped and my friend thought you might want to keep her.” He asks a bit unsure of how to address what happened without causing the kid more stress. “But the dorms don’t allow pets if it’s not for a quirk or medical reasons.” The kid says sadly. And that wasn’t going to stand on Aizawa’s watch, he claimed this kid and he was going to be the best guardian he could be. “She doesn’t have to stay at the dorms, she can live at home.” He assures the kid.

But now the kid is tearing up and the man did not know what he did wrong or how to set things right. “I don’t have anywhere else to take her, mom got caught in a villain attack at work. The whole building came down. Yagi-Sensei had been letting me stay at this agency.” And just fuck, Aizawa hadn’t been told Ms Midoriya had passed and he had a feeling non of the other staff did either. “Izuku, you don’t have to ever go back with him but you can’t not have a home. After tonight I think Yagi will sign his parental rights over to me but only if you are okay with it. If not then we can figure out something else or make you a ward like Er-“ He stops mid sentence as Izuku hugs him, burying his bandaged cheeks into Aizawa’s neck. All The man can do as the kid clings to him is cling back, he had no idea when the last time an adult showed this kid love so he held the boy close. “He- he’s not my d-dad Aizawa-Sensei, my dad g-g-gave me up years ago. Yagi-Sensei du-doesn’t have p-parental rights.” The kid admits as he sobs, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to be alone.” Izuku confesses, breaking the heart of the man holding him.

When doctors give them the okay and Izuku has gotten himself back together enough to put on the clothes Cat had brought Aizawa has Cat take them to His apartment near U.A. the shiba is waiting in the back of the van with a shiny red leather collar. Izuku and the dog fall asleep quickly. “So Sho, this mean you’re gonna petition for custody?” Cat asks as they drive, careful to not to wake the kid with the sudden sound. “Don’t have to, circumstances have changed. I’ll just have to file for adoption.” He sighs, he knows they won’t pry into it while everything is still happening so he feels safe enough to let them know. “Cool, just remember I called dibs on being the cool auncle. I’m spoiling him and that sweet pup.” They remind the tired man as he spots the apartment building up ahead. “You’ll have to fight Mic but I think being spoiled by both of you idiots will be good for him.” He laughs softly as he pictures the gift war that’s bound to happen now. “Don’t worry Mr Dad, I think you’ll spoil him enough before we can. You gave him a dog and he’s not even your kitten yet.” They tease.

It’s been three weeks and Izuku settles into his new bedroom with his new dog, Kēki, the room is kind of baren but he didn’t have a lot to decorate with yet. He’d thrown out or given away most of his hero merchandise, only keeping a few things his mom gave him. He was looking forward to the next week, Shota had told him that the papers were in and that by that time they would approve the adoption. Soon Izuku would be Midoriya-Aizawa Izuku, he wouldn’t have thought he’d like living with his teacher but the man gave off the same soft caring aura Izuku’s mom had...just in a quiet way. While the man wasn’t very physically affectionate he did listen when Izuku needed him, he asked questions about Izuku’s interests and goals and just overall made the kid feel like he mattered.

Izuku loves his dad, he hadn’t really known his birth dad so it was easy to give that title to the man that had taken him in so readily. Life was looking up, All might had been let go from U.A. and wasn’t allowed to teach ever again. Grand Torino had reached out in condolences when he heard that his non-grandson had lost his mother, the old man offered to watch him if the situation ever occurred. So now Izuku had a dad, most of the staff of his school as aunts and uncles, some odd vigilante that called themself his ‘auncle’, Kēki, and a grandpa! He still missed his mom but his dad had sent him to therapy to work through what All Might had put him through and Izuku had discovered he had some deeper issues of self worth and expecting abuse from those around him. So things were steadily getting better, not noticeably but he was just starting.

“Izuku! Kēki! I brought home dinner!” Shota called as he locked the door back. An exicited kid and dog bound into the front room looking so happy that Shota had to blink away from their brightness. “Come one lets eat while it’s still hot.” He laughs as he carries the bags of take out to the coffee table by the couch. As they dig in a feeling of rightness surrounds them. “Thanks dad.” “No problem Champ”

Kēki is a shiba mix with an all brown coat with a white tail that makes her look like chocolate cake with a dollop of white frosting this the name cake. Ally Cat wasn’t meant for more than just a throw away line but then they needed a car so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hope you liked it anon

[master-sass-blast]

Planning Pains

Whoooo boy. Gonna have to slap a big ol’ trigger warning on this one.

Summary: You attempt to start planning your upcoming wedding with Piotr --and run into a major emotional wall instead.

Rating: T for adult language, past child abuse, mentions of abuse, trauma from said abuse, and just a lot of anger, angst, and emotional pain.

Set after ‘Questions and Answers’ and before ‘The Literal Crack Fic.’

Also

TRIGGER WARNING: If you’ve got any hang ups on your ability to be loved or be in a relationship (which I absolutely understand and am not judging anyone for because I went through the same stuff as a teenager), this may not be the fic for you! This fic deals extensively with being led to believe that you (as the character of the Reader, not you irl obvs) weren’t worthy of being loved and the trauma that extended from that, and even if you haven’t suffered the abuse and gaslighting that I’ve detailed for the CHC, it’s heavy.

Obviously, y’all are fully capable of making your own grown-ass decisions, but I wanted to put it out there. Just in case.

Taglist:  @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

(Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a DM! Seriously, DM me, I don’t trust Tumblr’s ask box system or reblog notification system to catch everything lol.)

You should be able to do this. You’re smart. You’re capable. You help herd around a bunch of malcontent mutant teenagers and take down various groups of mutant criminals or groups planning to enact crimes against mutants –and the former is arguably more dangerous than either of the latter. You can make pancakes without burning down the kitchen –and have an edible product by the end of it (though the overall “pancake” appearance is largely questionable)!

You can fucking fly, for fuck’s sake. Know how many people can do that? A significantly small number, and they need planes or fancy equipment to do it, the chumps.

(Alright, that last point may be a little moot due to your mutation set, but still.)

Point stands: you are a confident, competent, capable adult, who is capable of accomplishing many different things with varying but usually large amounts of success.

So, why is it you can’t plan your own wedding?

You’re staring down at one of the tables in the library; you’d opted to set up in there for the sake of space, so you could spread everything out and get a good look at all of it, but now you’re thinking that was a mistake because the sheer amount of everything only makes it that much clearer that you don’t know what you’re doing.

Venues. Catering options. Invitations. Cake. Flowers. Wedding dress. Bridesmaids dresses. More cake. Music. Groom’s suit and groomsmen’s suits. Cake again. Rings, vows, honeymoon reservations, wedding party details, finding a minister, finding a house, or maybe an apartment, legal name changes—

It’s all too much. Even something simple, like picking what flowers you like, is impossible because…

Because you never even thought someone would want to marry you. For nearly your entire life, you were told that you were a monster, whole-heartedly undesirable, and because of that you never even dreamed about what a wedding for you might look like. Not even once.

And, as a result, you’ve got absolutely nothing in mind for what you might even want.

And it’s making you furious.

Because you should’ve been able to dream about your wedding –or even if in some alternate timeline, you never wanted one, you shouldn’t have been so beaten down that you couldn’t even fathom someone finding you desirable, let alone worthy of committing to.

You’re shaking in your seat, hands trembling as rage courses through you. The longer you stare at everything in front of you, the more helpless you feel, and the angrier you get.

Fuck your parents. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuck themfuckthemfuckthem—

“Hey, Y/N.” Russell grabs your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You realize that you’re basically angry-sobbing in your seat, glaring at all the wedding planning materials while you tremble all over.

Yukio materializes on your other side and hugs you gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t!” Russell protests. “She’s crying over a picture of shoes!”

“A lot of women do that.”

“Should we get Piotr?” Ellie asks, ever the voice of reason.

You nod, largely beyond words at this point as you try to wipe off your face and reign yourself in a little now that there are people in the room with you.

Ellie and Yukio head off to track down your fiancé, but Russell stays behind, sitting next to you and gently holding your hand while you –unsuccessfully—try to calm down.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s gonna be okay. Colossus’ll be here soon.”

You nod, trying to soothe him more than you are yourself at this point, because –honestly—you’re just so angry. It’s like a wound you never realized you had is now ripping open, deeper and deeper, tearing through you until you can’t breathe and all you can do is bleed and rage—

How dare they.

Betrayal. Pure and simple. Betrayed by your parents, betrayed by the town you grew up in, betrayed by the members of the church you were dragged to every Sunday and Wednesday…

Week after week, a community of adults bore witness –to the anti-mutant sermons you were forced to listen to, to the times were the kids in the middle school and high school youth groups would bully you even though you were barely out of first grade yet, to the growing fear with which you reacted to your parents, to the times where you were dragged back to your home by men toting rifles after you’d tried to run away, to the bruises that covered your arms from your father’s abuse, to the bags under your eyes from constantly being afraid and upset, to how you retreated further and further inside yourself as your parents bore down harder and harder on you…

And they did nothing. No one, not once, ever looked at you and decided that you deserved protecting because you were just a kid and couldn’t control your genetic make-up.

How fucking dare they.

You didn’t deserve to hate yourself, you didn’t deserve to feel worthless, you didn’t deserve to believe that you were so unlovable that you’re completely lost at sea in the face of planning your own fucking wedding—

And then Piotr’s kneeling next to you and drawing you into his arms. He’s in his uniform and armored up –he must’ve been overseeing training sessions, and now you feel bad for having inadvertently interrupted him.

“Tische, myshka.” He gently lifts you into his arms, then says something to Ellie before carrying you out of the library.

You wind your arms around his neck and bury your face in the shoulder piece of his uniform. You’re still shaking, borderline hyperventilating as you try to cope with the sheer level of wrath coursing through you. How dare they, how fucking dare they; I was a kid!

And then you’re in the bedroom you share with Piotr.

You’re vaguely aware that the teens have followed you and that they’re setting the wedding stuff on the desks, and then they’re leaving and closing the door behind them—

And then it’s just you and Piotr.

“What’s wrong, myshka?” Piotr murmurs. He armors down before sitting on the bed, carefully settling you in his lap so he can nestle you in his arms. “What has you upset?”

What you want to say is that you’re upset and enraged over the mistreatment you suffered as a child, and that it still extends so far into your life that you’re finding yourself unable to help plan your own wedding because you literally have zero ideas on what you want due to being abused for so long.

What comes out, however…

“I hate them,” you seethe as you sit back. “I hate them so fucking much. I was just a kid, I didn’t fucking deserve to be their punching bag—”

Fortunately, Piotr knows you well enough –and the tragic story of your upbringing—that he can decipher from your rambling that you’re upset about your family. He frowns, sad and concerned, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I am so sorry, moya dusha.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” you insist, almost frantically, as tears sting your eyes. “I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t fucking deserve it—”

“Konecho net. Never.” He draws you back into his arms, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back and generally doing whatever he can to soothe you. “You never deserved how they treated you. You never could, and you never will.”

You sob brokenly against your fiancé’s chest. “I can’t even plan my own wedding, Piotr! I don’t even know what I want it to look like!”

And then it all comes pouring out –the panic you’d felt in the library, how it’d morphed into fury as you realized what was causing your utter lack of ideas for your upcoming wedding, how the teens had found you in there, borderline hyperventilating as you’d stared at all the wedding stuff.

Piotr, for his part, just holds you and kisses the top of your head over and over again. “I am so sorry, moya lyubov’. Had I known you would have felt this kind of distress, I would have not left you to work on our wedding details alone.”

“But aren’t most brides supposed to plan the wedding?” you ask as you sniff inelegantly.

“I do not think ‘supposed to’ is right word. I think most brides wind up planning weddings because they have more aesthetic preferences,” Piotr explains. “However, I think it might be better if we work together for most of it. If only so you do not have to deal with your pain alone.”

“But you’ve got job stuff to do,” you whine. “And X-Men stuff, and teacher stuff, and this is gonna take a lot of time—”

“And you are my fiancée and love of my life and future wife and we will find way to make this work,” he insists as he presses his lips against your forehead. “Your well-being is more important than easy schedule.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just don’t want you to wind up hating me by all the end of this.”

Piotr just holds you tighter and kisses your temple. “Impossible.”

It’s not going to be easy. Even the thought of trying to work on wedding stuff makes your stomach churn with anxiety and unreleased rage.

Nothing in life comes easy, though. And with Piotr by your side –and your friends and newfound family—you know you’ll get through it just fine.

[turtle-steverogers]

Chaotic Neutral

ok so i was gonna write literal angst but then saph and i got on a tangent and this was born so take this Fruity Pebbles+Walgreens crack hybrid

warnings: stab wounds

ship: ralbert

editing: no

“Can you drive me to Walgreens?” Albert asked as he walked out of his room, looking slightly disheveled as he walked out of his and Race’s shared bedroom.  

Race glanced up from his place at the kitchen counter, chewing absentmindedly on the eraser of his pencil, “Why?”

Albert shrugged, padding over in his fuzzy socks to lean across the counter, blocking Race from his physics homework, “We’re outta fruity pebbles.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Planning to get high soon?”

Albert shook his head, “No, but I’m thinking of it right now, so I wanna get ‘em while they’re on my mind, ‘cause I’ll forget otherwise,” He paused for a moment, lost in memory, “And you remember what happened the last time I didn’t have fruity pebbles when the munchies hit.”

A dark look washed over Race’s face, “Oh, I remember alright,” he rubbed his elbow subconsciously, “I still have the scar.”

Albert clicked his tongue, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.  Anyway, can ya bring me?”

“Sorry, babe,” Race said, shoving Albert off his textbook, “I gotta finish this, but feel free to take my keys if you wanna just take yourself.”

Albert pouted for a moment, “Fine, but it’s no fun without you.”

Race didn’t grace him with pity as he focused back in on his assignment, “Suffer.”

Albert huffed again, “Ugh, okay, I’ll be back.”

“Pick me up some lactaid,” Race called as Albert shoved his socked feet into a pair of Race’s slides.

“Yep,” Albert shouted over his shoulder as he left the apartment, making his way down to Race’s car.  

What should have been a ten minute ride turned into twenty five minutes due to traffic, but eventually Albert arrived at the Walgreens off campus.  He trudged inside, hyper aware of the fact that he looked like some sort of college student-hobo hybrid with his bright red fuzzy socks and slightly-too-small sweatshirt.  

He scanned the cereal aisles, letting out a quiet, ‘aha’, as he located the fruity pebbles, taking several off of the shelf to stock up.  Frantic whispers from the aisle beside him piqued his curiosity and he shifted closer in order to listen.  He couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, but in his peripheral, he could see two rather burly men huddled against the wall, shoving armfuls of varying items into one of their backpacks.  Blanching as he realized what was happening, Albert considered his options.  He could casually slip out of the aisle and pretend he never saw anything, or-

“Hey,” He heard himself bark, instantly regretting his decision as the two men’s heads whipped up, fury and confusion glinting in their eyes, “What do you think you’re doing?” Albert bit his tongue, willing himself to shut up as the guys processed his words.

Albert took an involuntary step back as one of the two men crossed over to him, “You didn’t see nothin’, princess,” He snarled, the smell of cigarettes hot on his breath, “Move it along and no one gets hurt.”

Albert couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his throat, “Wow, real threatening,” he drawled, “I feel so threatened right now.  C’mon, shoplifting a Walgreens?  Seriously?  I mean-”

He cut himself off with a gasp as he felt a sharp, almost nauseating pain grip his gut.  He looked down, open-mouthed in shock as he watched the knife the guy had stabbed into him leave his body.  

A wave of dizziness washed over him as his knees buckled and he managed weakly, “There are security cameras, you know.”

The men exchanged alarmed glances, before stumbling around each other to grab the backpack.

“Yeah, bet you didn’t think of that,” Albert managed around the ever growing pain in his abdomen, “Dummies.” he added for good measure.

The men ran out of the aisle, only to be stopped by one of the employees, who must have heard the commotion.  Or seen Albert get stabbed on the security footage.  Albert didn’t have the energy to question which.  He rested his head on the shelf behind him, closing his eyes briefly, before standing up.

“Sir, I don’t think-” He hadn’t even noticed the other store clerk, hovering worriedly near him.  

He waved a hand, cutting her off, “S’fine,” he mumbled, “I’ll be chill.”

“An ambulance is on its way-”

“Where’s your first aid aisle?” Albert asked, pitching to the side slightly.

The clerk raised her eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“You’re first aid stuff, like, band-aids and shit.”

“Sir, I-”

“Ma’am, please,” Albert groaned, “This ain’t my first rodeo, I’m fine, just tell me where the goddamn bandages are.”

The clerk looked taken aback, but she pointed to an aisle diagonal from the one they were in nonetheless, “Uh, that one.”

“Thanks,” Albert mumbled, turning and staggering towards the first aid materials.  He blearily squinted at the shelves, haphazardly plucking a few bandage packs, as well as some gauze pads from the wall.  He grabbed a bottle of antiseptic from one of the higher shelves, then sat himself down on the carpeted floor and lifted his shirt, working with shaky hands to inspect the stab wound.  It was fairly deep considering and blood was flowing out weakly with each beat of his heart.  If he were in a better state, he probably would have been freaked out by the image.  Instead, he clumsily tore off a chunk of his already ripped t-shirt and soaked it in some of the antiseptic.

He gingerly pressed the cloth to the wound, hissing in pain as the alcohol sent a stinging jolt through his body, making his head light.  

Diligently, he cleaned away the blood, then dressed the wound using gauze and bandages, wrapping tightly to ensure the blood would clot.  After taking a few steadying breaths, he stood up and pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, crossing back over to the store clerk who had been watching him in awed horror.  

He handed her the twenty, then stooped down to pick up one of the fallen boxes of fruity pebbles, “Hope that covers everything I used,” he slurred, “Take care.”

He could hear various sirens outside and decided to slip out the side door to avoid any paramedics who might see him in his bloodied state.  He hailed a cab, ignoring the frightened stare of the driver as he rattled off his and Race’s address.  He zoned out during the ride, only realizing they had arrived when the driver called back to him, demanding his payment.  Albert tipped a little extra after discovering the blood stain he’d left on the seat, then made his way up to the apartment.  

Realizing belatedly that he’d left his apartment key in Race’s car, which was still in the Walgreens parking lot, he knocked weakly on the door.

Race appeared a moment later, eyes widening as he looked over his boyfriend, “Albert, what the fuck.”

“I got m’fruity pebbles,” Albert said, smiling.  

Race shook his head, dumbfounded, “What the hell happened to you- fuck.” He grunted as Albert jerked forward, collapsing unceremoniously into Race’s arms.  Race grimaced, hoisting Albert’s arm around his shoulder and leading him to the couch, carefully laying him down the length of the cushions.

Albert leaned to the side, the pain finally catching up to him as he gagged, vomit forcing its way up his throat.  Race stepped back as Albert threw up onto the ground, blood intermixing with his sick.

“Albert, Jesus,” Race murmured, worry creasing his eyebrows.

“S’fine,” Albert croaked, gesturing to the bandage around his stomach, “I handled it.”

“Clearly not,” Race said, voice cracking as he frantically waved his hand towards the bloody vomit, “What happened?  Actually, nevermind, I don’t wanna know until we get you fixed up.”

“I am fixed up.”

“Properly fixed up, you dumbass ginger fool.”

“Race, Racer,” Albert reached out a hand, latching onto Race’s pant leg.

Race bent down, carding a hand through his boyfriend’s hair, “Yes, love?”

“Are there munchies in heaven, do you think?”

Race blinked, “My god, you’re an idiot.  Hospital time, let’s go.”

XXX

“So, let me get this straight,” Race leaned back in the crappy plastic chair he was sitting in, studying Albert as he lay in a hospital bed, finally stable, “You saw some guys shoplifting, so you called them out, then challenged them, then got stabbed, then sassed some poor store clerk, then fucking yeeted over to the first aid aisle, tried to treat yourself, then dipped before an ambulance could get to you?”

Albert bit his lip, “Uh, yeah, basically.”

“Jesus Christ, Albert, you coulda gotten yourself legitimately killed.  I mean, good on you for stopping a robbery, but next time an ambulance is called for you, fucking take up that offer, okay?”

Albert groaned, slumping down into his pillows, “But I was fine, Racer!”

“No, you weren’t!  You needed a blood transfusion, Albert!”  Race closed his eyes, emotion rising in his throat, “Listen, it was really fucking scary seeing you bleeding out on our couch and I really don’t know what I’d do if you were to like, literally die or something, so for the love of god, use your singular fucking brain cell and take care of yourself next time, okay?”

Albert softened, guilt spreading through his body, “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Race stood, walking over to Albert and leaning down to hug him, “It’s okay, I just worry.”

“I know you do,”  Albert said, burying his nose in his boyfriend’s hair, “I appreciate your care.”

“I love you, bitchass, you know that?”

“I do,” Albert smiled, “I love you, too,” a pause, “Race, you didn’t happen to bring-”

“Planned ahead,” Race said, pulling the box of fruity pebbles from under his chair.

“I fucking stan you so hard what the fuck.”

“I...stan you, too?”

“You better,” Albert said through a mouth of cereal, “I’m wonderful.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

-

jfc someone literally tell me how al is still alive at this point

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[deanssweetheart23]

Something Borrowed - Chapter IX

Title: Something Borrowed: September 2015 (Chapter IX)

Chapter Overview: The day of the wedding arrives. Dean has to make a decision.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Frank Weber, Sam Winchester (only mentioned)

Word count: 1389

Warnings: Some language, angst and Stuck Up Asshole Frank™ ( @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba came up with that name and I must admit I kinda love it).

Author’s Notes: This was beta’d by @trexrambling. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her. Thank you, my sunflower <3

Thank you, guys, for all of your love. When this series is over, I’ll make a detailed post for all of you. <3

Catch up here. Enjoy <3

Saturday, 26 September, 2015

New York City, New York

Dean knows he shouldn’t be here.

He knows it deep into his soul, knows no good can possibly come out of this, that he’s practically pouring salt over jagged scars, but he still feels like this is something he needs to do, the least he can do for her before he lets her go one last time.

He needs to make sure that no one will ever hurt her the way he did.

He needs to make sure that when his brother told him she sounded troubled over the phone the night they talked about the wedding that he was only lying to make him feel better.

He needs to make sure she’s better off without him.

Taking a deep breath, Dean locks his car, adjusts his tie and slips into the church quietly.

The venue is already crowded, filled with all the people the couple has invited, and, as Dean looks for that small room in the back of the building, he thinks he sees Charlie and his brother with Eileen looking for their seats. Somehow, he feels grateful that they can be there for Y/N in ways he no longer can.

Navigating his way through the church, he takes in the decoration; beautiful, though a bit pompous for his taste, with the couple’s vows hand-calligraphed onto the aisle runner, antique bird cages for the guests’ cards and vintage lanterns surrounded by roses and peonies in every corner.

Dean’s almost impressed until he remembers how much Y/N hates peonies.

His heart sinks a little in his chest.

He finds the room he’s been looking for shortly after that, waits a few seconds before grasping the handle and rapping his hands down on the wood.

“Come on in,” comes the gruff response.

And, so, Dean opens the door and steps inside to find the blue-eyed man he’s been looking for standing right in front of him, dressed in an impeccable black suit and the most expensive pair of lace-ups he’s ever seen, a bow-tie half wrapped around the collar of his shirt.

“Frank,” he nods.

He’s surprised to see him.

Dean can tell that much from the way his eyes widen and his jaw clenches at the sight of him, from the way the stone-cold demeanor cracks for just a second and lets Dean see through him, see a man who’s almost afraid of him.

“Dean,” Frank manages after a while, lips stretched into a venomous smile. “Now this is a surprise, man. Y/N said you wouldn’t be coming,” he adds, and there’s something so arrogant, so possessive in the way he calls her name, that Dean feels sick.

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Ah,” he laughs a little under his breath, but the sound’s made of plastic, “I take it you’re not staying then.”

The muscles in Dean’s jaw twitch. “No, not really.”

Frank clasps his hands together, contemplating his next words, then pours himself a glass of whiskey. “Too bad. She’d be really happy to see you.” He sips some of his drink. “She’s missed you, you know.”

The words are meant to slice through his skin and they do so, tremendously well, leaving a trail of bleeding bruises behind them.

He hates this, hates how Frank knows more things about her now, how he knows her better than he does, almost as much as he hates the fact that what they had, all those years of friendship, will slowly become a parenthesis in the narrative of her life and his name will fade into darkness, as someone she used to know, but means nothing to her anymore.

It takes him a moment to speak. “I’m not here for some Dr. Phil hour, Frank.”

“Fair enough. You did come a long way though, so I’m guessing there must some reason you’re here.”

A pause.

Brow knitted into a frown.

“Do you love her?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Do you love her?”

“What do you think?” Frank asks, eyes a bit softer now. “She’s perfect, man.”

Y/N’s not perfect, of course.

She can be stubborn enough to drive Dean up the damn wall, witty and sarcastic in all the wrong moments, impulsive, reckless. But she’s the kindest, most loving person he knows, the kind of girl that lights up a room just by being in it, the kind of girl you hold on to.  

Still, Dean chooses not to say that to Frank, chooses to keep that small part of her for himself.

“Is she happy?”

“You came all this way to know if I can make my fiancée happy?” Frank laughs, a dead sort of laugh, takes a few steps towards him. “Yeah, she’s happy, Dean. Happier than you’d ever be able to make her.” He runs a hand over his mouth. “You know… You hate me so much for stealing Y/N away from you, but really… You handed her over to me.” A small, brash shrug as he pats Dean on the shoulder. “Should have done something about it while you still had the chance.”

Hot white range bursts through Dean at that and, before Frank even knows what’s happening, he’s wrapping his fingers around his wrist, pushes him against the wall.

“Y/N’s not some kind of prize, you dick-bag.”

“God,” Frank sneers, eyes flooded with pity, “you’re so in love with her, it’s pathetic.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Dean bites out, leaning down to get in his face. “You know what’s the weirdest thing about being pathetically in love with someone, Frank?” he asks, fingers gripping the front of Frank’s suit jacket. “You’d do anything to protect them. So, you better treat Y/N the way she deserves, or, so help me God-”

“Are you threatening me, Winchester?”

“Damn right I am. You hurt her-” he stabs a finger at him– “and I’ll rip you to fucking shreds.” He juts his chin. “Are we clear?”

Darkness coats Frank’s features and, for a second, Dean believes he’s about to punch him, yet he only nods, numb, but hard.

Dean pulls away. “Better get going then.” He rolls up his sleeves, smirks with a satisfaction he doesn’t feel. “It was nice talking to you, man.”

And then he’s gone, walking down the corridors quickly until he reaches the hall where the wedding’s supposed to take place and finds a shady seat in the back row. And he knows, again, that doing this to himself, staying there while she marries someone else, is probably the worst idea he’s ever had, but he needs to see her, needs to convince himself that it’s finally over.

She walks down the aisle almost twenty minutes later, the brightest thing he’s ever seen, a dream dressed in white. She wears her hair down in waves, holds a bouquet of red roses that seem striking against the lace ballgown, and Dean allows himself to imagine that it’s him she’s walking towards, that all that happiness, all the joy scattered around him isn’t poison to his heart.

He opens his eyes, sees the way she’s looking at Frank.

She’s smiling, that smile of hers that could cut him in two, but there’s something else there, something he can’t quite put his finger on.

He tells himself he’s imagining it, because she never answered that voicemail, never tried to contact him.

He tells himself he’s imagining it, because if he’s not, he’ll probably go insane.

His eyes drift to Frank.

The blue-eyed man that had been so spiteful, so full of hatred only a few minutes ago, seems soft now, almost sweet, as he looks at her like she’s everything he’s been waiting for, and Dean knows.

He loves her.

They both do.

He waits until the vows begin, each word of eternal devotion that comes out of her mouth a punch in his gut. Then, he gets out of his chair, smooths his shirt and drives back to Ithaca, back to Charlie’s apartment. He climbs up to the rooftop where they first met, the first time he’s been there in over a year.

The flowers he’d planted with Charlie are withered now, the petals broken, and he rips them all off, one by one, until there’s nothing left but tender soil, nothing left but dirt.

He never, once, looks back as he walks away.

A/N: Next chapter coming on 9/15 :) Remember, I love you <3

Forever Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @trexrambling @percywinchester27 @atwistoffate @there-must-be-a-lock @torn-and-frayed @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @atc74 @dancingalone21 @kathaswings @dreamingdean @jayankles @winchesters-flannels @winchestersnco @caeruli @princess-shurii @tiny-friggin-human @polina-93 @mandilion76 @juanitadiann @pickupthatamulet @yourvoiceislikearose @becominglionhearted @ravengirl94 @ravenangel33 @holahellohialoha @starry-chaos @masksandtruths @lipstickandwhiskey @hannahindie @sunlightdances @wordstothewisereaders @ruprecht0420 @sgarrett49 @escabell @becs-bunker @imagining-supernatural @iwriteaboutdean @mogaruke @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @spngeronimo @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @wellthatsrandomkek @persephone-divine @akshi8278 @keepcalmandcarryondean @superflurry @superapplepie @sinistersaltqueen @carryonmyswansong @carryonmywaywardcaptain @emoryhemsworth @bebravekeeponfighting @sebastianshoe @jessilliam-caronday @kleinkariertebetrachter @stellaa33 @samisimportant-blog @shutupiminlooove @no-shit-sherl0ck @caitthejourno @annoyingpeople-postingthings @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @mrswhozeewhatsis @may-darling @novaddictx @rlawson418 @itssmallerontheoutside-13

Something Borrowed Tags: @girliciousdreams @ellen-reincarnated1967 @superwholock-fangir1 @my-proof-is-you @ms-baekhyun @satanwithapencil @hayleighr4 @keepcalmandbeajunkie @pjofangirl18 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @maralisa124 

[thorne93]

Accident

Prompt: Imagine Peter (Parker) sitting by your bedside every day after you are injured by a villain trying to get to him. (courtesy of @thefandomimagine)

Word Count: 1515

Warnings: angst, crying, near death, coma, hospitals...all that stuffz. Language

Notes: Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles​ @cocosierra94​ @essie1876​ @magpiegirl80​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please​ @superwholocked527​ @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification​ @thejemersoninferno​ @rda1989​ @marvelloushamilton @munlis​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @bubblyanarocks3​ @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn​ @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beep...Beep...Beep.

The machine ticked away each of your heartbeats, the noise should be calming to Peter, because the beat of your heart meant you were alive, but the fact that a machine had to tell him this made it far worse.

Why did you have to be there? Why did you have to show up just then? Perhaps it was because you had accidentally found out his identity when you came over one day to study. You walked in his room like you always did, and he was half getting out of his suit when you had screamed.

“Holy--Pete! What the hell are you doing? Lock the door if you’re gonna change!” you had said, upset that you just saw your best friend half-naked.

“Y/N! Shut the door!” he ordered and you did as you were told. Just then you had looked down to see what he was getting out of: red and blue spandex. Spandex you’d seen for over a year now. A suit you would recognize anywhere.

“You...You’re Spider Man,” you said calmly, as if someone just told you an interesting fact.

Peter looked at you incredulously. “You’re not screaming or shouting?” he had wondered.

“Why? Should I be?” you questioned.

“Uh, well...Ned knows and he was speechless...Then he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You scoffed. “Figures. That’s Ned.”

“And if you were Aunt May…” he said, letting you fill in the gaps. Just the imagery of her finding out had you cringing.

“No. I think it’s cool. But I’m not gonna geek out. You’re a spider-boy, big deal.”

“Spider-man,” he stressed.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever. We gonna study or what?”

“You seriously have no questions for me?” he asked.

You shrugged as you flopped on his bed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Parker, but I’m not that easily impressed.”

That was four months ago though, and since then you were still very cool with it. You asked questions on and off, here or there, but you didn’t badger him like Ned did, and you didn’t freak out like May would have. To you, he was still Peter. The kid who wanted to help anyone and found ingenious ways to do it. He was still the kid you’d had a crush on for all your life.

But now, now you were in a coma, head trauma and internal bleeding had hit you hard about eight days ago when you got in between Venom and Peter. He always told you to stay out of his way if he was ever fighting someone, but you were walking home from a trip to the bookstore when you saw the two facing off in the street and without thinking, you ran in front of Peter, ready to protect him at any costs. You shouted at Venom, furious that anyone would want to harm Peter. You told him if he wanted him he would have to go through you. Peter told you to move, shouting at you to get out of the way, but it was too late. Venom took your challenge and accepted it with glee. He reached out and grabbed you, with spider-like webs, beating you within an inch of your life, despite Peter’s best efforts to stop him. He threw you into buildings, dragged you through concrete, clawed your skin as you tried to get away…Until you finally suffered a head wound that knocked you out cold.

Peter hadn’t left your side, not once. Your parents were getting your homework assignments from school, your mom staying in the room most days, but then your dad would persuade her to come home for a shower, hot food, and a real bed.

He played your favorite music, talking to you about new music that was coming out by your favorite artists. He read from your favorite books. He talked to you about Ned, about how half the school was worried for you. But that was after the first couple of days. The first two days, he was a complete mess. Crying uncontrollably, his body shaking violently from sobbing, his body severely dehydrated. His voice cracking every time he begged you to wake up and open your eyes. May had finally told him to be positive, to talk to you as if you were awake, sitting in his room next to him.

No matter what though, he never left. Not once.

“Baby, why don’t we go home? Just for one night?” May sounded from the door as she walked in.

“No,” he sleepily said as he held your hand.

“She needs rest too, you know. You can’t hover over her.”

“She needs me here. I can’t have her wake up alone,” he responded, not looking at his aunt. May’s heart was breaking for his as she came over and put both hands on his shoulders.

“You’re acting like this was your fault, kid, and it’s not. You can’t blame yourself. You weren’t even there,” she said.

Peter didn’t even know how to tell May how wrong she was. “Still…” he said.

“Come on. I can make my famous meatloaf and you can take a shower...and get some new clothes. Y/n doesn’t want to smell your week old B.O.”

After a few moments, he finally gave in. “You’re right. She’ll just say I smell like garbage,” he said, knowing exactly what face you’d make. May took him home, happily. She knew he was worried, but she was worried for him too.

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

After he slept in a real bed, not the crappy hospital lounge chair, and took two hot showers, and gathered more clothes for the hospital, he ran like a madman to get back to your bedside.

He asked a doctor for an update you. They said it was looking grim, but still very hopeful. Typically, the longer a patient was under a coma, the harder it was for them to wake up. But they said you were young and healthy and there was no reason you shouldn’t wake up.

With this news, Peter sat there all day, still talking to you, still doing anything to make you wake up. Finally, as night drew near, and he grew tired again, feelings he’d been holding back for a long time came to surface.

“Y/N, I don’t even know if you can hear me right now, if you’re going to remember any of the stuff I’ve said to you over the past few days but...I’m gonna give this a shot. You’re not awake and this is probably the only way I could tell you anyway without spazzing out.”

He took your hand gently, sadness touching his heart when you didn’t grip back. He took a deep breath. “So, here goes. Y/N, I like you...I mean...really like you...I have for a long time. You’re funny. You know more Star Wars than I do, which is cool. You didn’t treat me different when you found out my secret...And you kept it… Which is also pretty cool. Not a lot of people would do that. And you actually like to study physics with me, which is kind of nerdy but…” He laughed at himself, at you, but then he looked over at you, the wires and tubes going everywhere, the hospital nightgown on you made you look even cuter somehow. “But...But I love you, Y/N.”

He contemplated whether he should kiss you, he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to disrespect your boundaries, but he also didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance to kiss you. So he opted for middle ground, he leaned up and placed a kiss on your cheek, lingering a moment before a swell of heartache hit him, sending tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Don’t be a dork,” you rasped as he was leaning back.

“Y/N!” he shouted.

“Okay...Loud,” you moaned.

“You’re okay!”

“I’m deaf,” you responded, pushing him back. “Take it down an octave,” you ordered.

“How are you feeling? Do I need to get a doctor?”

“After you confirm something for me,” you said slyly.

His heart hammered in his chest at your words. “What’s that?”

“Well...I had this weird dream you were telling me how wonderful I was...and at the end of it, you said you loved me...Was that just a dream, Peter?”

His eyes cast away from you as a blush crept up his neck to his cheeks.

“Uh...Uh...no..It wasn’t.”

“That’s what I thought. Come here,” you said, motioning with your finger, your face expressionless. He leaned down, worried about your response. “Closer.” He got even closer, only an inch away from you. “I love you too,” you said quickly in a whisper before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“You do?!” he asked, turning to you with excitement.

“Well, no duh,” you responded, rolling your eyes.

“Oh my god. This is great….But we need to get you doctors,” he said as he jumped up.

You laughed and rolled your eyes again. “Ever my protector.”

[mafiabosstsuna]

First part: http://mafiabosstsuna.tumblr.com/post/151020010028/this-is-sent-in-by-the-lovely-kaladork-a From the amazing @kaladork

The people asked and so they shall receive! I had quite a few requests for a sequel. But seriously, I would like to apologize that this took so long to get out. Aside from the usual excuses, I was finishing my final project for my Bachelor’s Degree and getting ready for my internship (Yay!). So here it is! The sequel to A Beautiful Almost! To be completely honest, there’s a whole heck of a lot less angst (I don’t know if you could call it angst) because I’m a smooshy, mushy sap at heart and have a weakness for happy endings. Also, it’s quite long, so I apologize for that as well. Hope you like it! ❤

She locked the doorknob.

And the deadbolt.

And the slidelock.

And the other deadbolt.

She kicked her shoes off and dropped her purse by the door.

Then she dropped onto a couch with a muffled thud, determined to sleep for the next twelve hours.

Bless Sundays.

Bless her day off.

Bless the sweet bliss of darkness that awaited her.

‘It’s funny,’ she thought, ‘how darkness can be so wonderfully comforting and so utterly terrifying depending on context.’

She began to cry.

Thick tears ran down her cheeks and her back shook with the nearly silent sobs that tore through her already drained body. It felt like each tear was emptying her, drawing on a reserve that wasn’t there.

It wasn’t because she missed her soulmate.

That wasn’t it.

Not this time.

This time her heart was breaking for someone else.

“I didn’t want this for you.”

With a scream of terror and surprise, she whipped her hand gun out of the holster on her thigh while flipping off the safety, rolling off the couch, and pointing it at the unknown intruder.

She’d be damned if she was going to be murdered in her own damn apartment.

“Well, this is new.”

The voice hung in the dark, smooth and amused.

She could barely hear it over the beating of her heart.

“Ts-tsuna?” she asked, breathless with fear and disbelief.

A rustle sounded.

“Don’t move!” she yelped.

The rustling stopped.

She moved to the light switch, flicking the lamp on and returning her hand immediately to the gun.

Her hard, blue eyes met Tsuna’s amber, narrowed and watching her attentively.

“You know how to use that,” he observed, nodding toward the firearm.

“Yet, you’re not scared.” She glared at Tsuna, speaking slowly.

Tsuna sauntered forward, steps smooth and lithe. His eyes flared in color, but the lids dropped; his handsome features reflected the change in attitude. The smallest smile dancing viciously across his lips, a cruel cast to the shadows on his face, oozing lethal confidence, a bit of contempt, and a certain surety of his own safety.

He stopped directly in front of her shaking form and leaned in and over her—placing his neck directly in line with the barrel of the gun—smirking haughtily at his soulmate.

“Do you really think you have the guts to shoot me?” he taunted.

Tsuna froze.

The barrel of the gun was shoved up into his neck, cold and perfectly nestled into the junction of his jaw and jugular.

Sudden, icy anger fueling her actions, she cocked the gun, taking her sweet time to let the click resound in Tsuna’s ears. “That depends,” she whispered from behind clenched teeth. “On what you’re here for.”

Tsuna blinked, surprise bleeding into his posture, deadly aura falling away.

“What do you think I’m here for?” was his careful query.

Her nostrils flared, jaw set in determination. “I won’t die.”

Tsuna’s brow furrowed, just slightly, as the words fell before him. The full meaning hit him like a sledge hammer to the gut. A string of guilt tugged on his heart and pulled, dragging it down to sit heavy on his stomach. “Is that- Is that what you think I’m here for?” he asked incredulously. He stepped back, away from the cocked gun and the defensive woman behind it.

Doubt flew through her eyes. “I… did?”

“Damnit! What kind of man do you think I am?” he growled.

She glared, heartrate jumping at his rough tone. Her fingers tightened on the gun. “A Don.”

“Ok, that’s fair.”

She raised an eyebrow at the uncontested acquiescence.

“But listen to me, sweetheart. Please. I’m not here to kill you. C’mon, you know me-”

“No. I don’t Tsuna.” She frowned. Her voice was forceful and agitated, frustration flying through her eyes and settling in the furrow of her brow. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but we only knew each other for three weeks before you decided I was moving in with you.”

Tsuna’s hands came up in a shrug. “Well, yeah, but we’re soulmates. We’re made for each other and I-” He cut off abruptly.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You what?”

“I, um, may have known about you before you knew me,” Tsuna admitted, for once looking a bit sheepish.

“You what?” she spat, all but hissing.

“It wasn’t on purpose! We were just—will you put the gun away? The last time I had a gun pointed at me this long Don DiMarco was threatening to decapitate me in his parlor!” He saw the resolute set of her face and the stubbornness in her eyes.

And the fear. She was still afraid.

Of him.

She was afraid of him.

His own damn soulmate was afraid of him.

Suddenly, it was too much. The world resting on his shoulders was too heavy and he couldn’t take the weight anymore because his soulmate—the one who should trust him the most—was afraid of him.

And it really was his fault for being such an enormous douche.

He looked at her, truly observing her for the first time since he broke into her apartment. She was tired. The entire situation had been weighing on her back and turning in her stomach for months upon months and she was bone-tired. Tsuna could see it. Dark circles announced the months of fearful half-sleep and her jacket hung a bit too loosely on her frame in a subtle show of anxiety-fueled weight loss. Despite the firmness in her eyes and the hard cords of muscle that peeked from beneath her clothes, he could see the gauntness that hadn’t been there before.

He swallowed dryly.

His fault.

Tsuna backed away. He sat on the couch, shoulders drooping, back slouched, head hanging.

“Please,” he pleaded.

She stood there, teetering on the precipice of distrust and concern. This was something she hadn’t seen from Tsuna before. In the three weeks of knowing him she had seen angry, charming, happy, smug, deadly, seductive, ruthless, motivated, domineering…

She had never seen vulnerable.

Tsuna looked up as he heard a noise.

She had put the safety back on and was setting the gun on the table.

Her beautiful face was frowning, just a bit, but she was walking over to him and sitting next to him, not quite touching him and her hands and arms curled in tight to her body like a shield.

“If you’re not here to kill me, what are you here for?” she asked quietly, eyes on her shoes.

Tsuna didn’t answer.

“Why are you wearing so much black?” he asked instead.

She swallowed. “I was at a funeral.”

“Whose?”

“A boy in town. From the youth shelter. I work there now.”

Both of their voices were subdued, careful; both afraid of driving the other away, both scared of closing the gap too quickly.

“You work at a youth shelter?”

“I, um, run it.”

Tsuna blinked. “That’s amazing.”

She shrunk further into the shelter of her hunched shoulders.

“No. I meant it.” Tsuna shifted, turning his body to her. His hands found her face, cupping her cheeks and gently lifting her eyes to his. “That’s wonderful. I didn’t…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry. That’s what I came here for. I came to say that I’m sorry for the way I treated you, for how much I took you for granted, for ever hurting you.” He kissed her, tender and soft, yet needy and desperate. Trying to convey feelings he didn’t have words for. He pulled back—far too quickly for his taste. “I never wanted to hurt you. Never want to hurt you. I-” He licked his lips, searching for words. “I didn’t think of you. I only thought of myself and there’s no excuse for it.”

Tsuna’s hands slid from her face, across her neck, skimming her shoulders, caressing her arms. They settled on cradling her hands, still lying in her lap. His head fell forward into the crook of her neck. His heart leapt and he let out a sigh of utter relief and happiness when he finally felt her relax against him.

They stayed still like that for a while.

“How did you know about me before we met, Tsuna?” she asked into the quiet.

Tsuna spoke into her neck, too comfortable to move. “It really was an accident. It was your roommate. She worked for a sex trafficking ring we were trying to crack.”

“What the he—”

“Shh. I know. She doesn’t seem like she could hurt anyone. But we had been tracking her for months, lost too many informants to her. Each time we got close, she would disappear. We knew we couldn’t attack her directly. Otherwise she’d run. And you were there. An innocent civilian. We try to avoid civilian casualties. So we sent in a Vongola man.”

“I knew I had seen Dante somewhere before!” she cried.

Tsuna chuckled. “Sometimes you’re too observant for you own good. Yes, Dante was the one we sent. He started dating her and got to know about you. Angelica talked about you a lot. Specifically, she mentioned your soulmark.”

“Angelica?”

“Her real name. Anyway, Dante didn’t know it matched mine, but he had to report everything and my guardians do know my soulmark. Gokudera put two and two together.”

“How long before we met?”

Tsuna paused. “Um, two months.”

“Two months? You were stalking me for two months before you introduced yourself!” She moved back dislodging Tsuna, her hands going to her hips in mock anger. “You are my soulmate, mister. You stalked me for two months! What do you have to say for yourself?”

She expected him to follow her playful attitude, but instead his eyes dropped to stare intently at their hands.

Tsuna couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I didn’t know if I wanted a soulmate,” he admitted.

“I understand.”

Tsuna’s eyes whipped to hers.

She laughed softly. “Do you know how terrified I was when my soulmark started to burn? I almost passed out.” She frowned. “What changed?”

“The situation.” Tsuna moved closer. “May I?” he inquired, gesturing toward her with open arms.

She nodded, trusting her instincts that told her he truly didn’t want to harm her. If he did, he would have done so already.

Tsuna gathered her close, pulling her into his body. He nestled her between his legs and curled around her. carefully wrapped his arms to encompass her—warm, but not tight. He didn’t want her feeling trapped at the moment. After all, she had held a loaded gun to his neck not too far in the past. Finally, he laid his head against her, encouraging her to relax back into him.

As he cradled her, Tsuna spoke. “Your roommate was planning on selling you to the sex trafficking ring. She just had to make sure no one would come looking for you.”

“Me? Why? I’m sure there are easier targets.”

“She thought you were a virgin. Virgins go hundreds of thousands of dollars in this particular circle.” Tsuna spoke quietly, anger at what could have happened to the woman in his arms seeping through the softness of his voice.

They lapsed into contemplative silence.

“How can I trust you?” she whispered. “How do I truly know you’re not here to kill me? I don’t feel like you’re here to hurt me, but…” Her voice was conflicted, tired, and confused.

Tsuna’s response this time was slower, more thoughtful. “Is that why you learned to use a gun?” he asked, yet again answering with a question.

She nodded hesitantly.

Tsuna sighed. “You spent all that time, nearly an entire year, thinking I wanted you dead?”

Another nod, smaller.

Tsuna’s hold on her tightened and he buried his face more deeply in her neck. She could feel him shaking just the slightest bit. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have had to live like that. I shouldn’t have made you feel like that.”

This was not what she had expected, obviously. She had expected hostility and ego and was instead met with penitence and tenderness; a sincerity she had yet to witness in her mafioso.

“I want to believe, but it’s still hard. I had convinced myself you would hate me,” she admitted.

“I was angry at first, don’t get me wrong. I-” his voice faltered. “I went a bit insane with anger. Do you know what it’s like to have your other half ripped away from you?”

“Tsuna, I am your other half.”

“Exactly.”

“It was terrible,” she conceded. “I felt like someone had ripped a piece of my chest out.”

“Yes.” His voice softened again, shame creeping into the corners. “I was hurt and I showed it through anger. I was bent on finding you, but not for the right reasons.” He stopped. That was a bit of an understatement. His anger had taken over like a tsunami, rolling across the ground and threatening to devastate everything he held dear. Looking back on it, he couldn’t help but be impressed that it had taken so long to find his beloved despite the burning motivation of his fury.

“And?”

Tsuna chuckled wryly. “Yamamoto and Reborn knocked some sense into me. Literally. Separately. Brutally.”

She laughed along with him. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard horror stories about those two.”

“You could always kiss it better,” Tsuna purred in her ear.

“Tsuna!” she protested with a wiggle, but Tsuna held on tight, smiling mischievously.

He continued to hold her, letting her sink back into his embrace.

“Do you know how much I love you?” Tsuna exhaled.

She froze. He had never directly stated his love.

“I thought I knew how it would feel; seeing you for the first time. I’d seen your picture. I read every bit of information we had on you. I sent Gokudera to watch you for a bit.”

“See, I told you you were a stalker,” she sassed.

“Shush. I’m being mushy. Besides, I’m a Don. What was I supposed to do?” He swallowed thickly. “Then I saw you. I met you. And I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything. I felt like I was a kid again, No-good Tsuna, all helpless and weak. It-it didn’t rearrange my life. It just… gave it sense. Changed my perspective. I finally saw how everything in my life had been preparing me for you, had been directing me and giving me the tools to succeed, for us to succeed. When I saw you, I knew that I could love you.” He turned his head to her neck and began kissing. It was soft. It was sensual. His kisses were so tantalizingly slow she wanted to cry out. As it were, she bit her lip and listened to the words he pressed into her skin.

“I forgot. Too quickly. I forgot how much I need you. I forgot that not everything is dark and heavy and callous. And I forgot that you’re my light. I tried to drag you down into the darkness with me. But that’s not right. I need you. I need you to help me stay afloat in the dark. I need your warmth and your love. You happiness and your laughter–”

“My boobs.”

A laugh escaped Tsuna. “Maybe your boobs.” He paused before shifting his hands around to cup her breasts. “Definitely you boobs.” He bucked his hips, undulating as slow as possible to grind into her backside. Her face flamed. “Your butt, too. That’s pretty nice.” His lips were scalding on her skin, nipping and nuzzling.

“Tsuna,” she called urgently, all breathe and blush and gasping lungs. “Stop. I can’t do this.”

Tsuna stilled immediately.

She untangled herself from Tsuna’s arms and stood up on shaky legs.

Tsuna almost made a deeply embarrassing sound at the loss of her warmth, but he let her go. He needed to do this her way, as much as it killed him. He wanted to whisk her away now. To take her back to the Vongola mansion and take her in every sensual, erotic way humanly possible. He wanted to lock her up for a week straight and worship her body and soul. Watching her standing there, chest heaving and skin flushed, trying to deny the magnetism of their touch, he wanted her more intensely than anything he had ever desired.

He had considered doing it.

Taking her.

Especially back when he was angry.

He had dreamed of finding her and taking her in the middle of the night, locking her away, punishing her, and never letting her see the light of day again. It had taken Reborn beating him within an inch of his life and Yamamoto roughing him up to get it through his head that it was his fault. That she left for a reason and he would only cause them both misery if he pursued those awful thoughts. That if he ever wanted a true shot at her love, he needed to take her into account.

And as much as he wanted her to be his, he couldn’t own her. He didn’t want to cause her pain due to his selfishness. He had already done enough of that.

So he could be patient; for her.

She leveled her gaze toward Tsuna, sorrow lacing her eyes. “I can’t go back with you.”

Tsuna stood. He walked over to her and grabbed the hand that was clutched to her chest. “I’m not asking you to. Not yet. Eventually. Maybe. When you want.” He brought her hands to his lips. “What I’m asking for is a second chance. A chance to get to know you properly. To date you, to court you. I want a second chance to love you fully, to give you a chance to know me.”

She stared down at her own hand, still held tenderly in his. “I can’t leave, Tsuna.”

He could hear the tears trembling in the timbre of her voice.

Tsuna brought her hand to his chest, cradling it with both of his own hands. “We’ll cross that bridge when it comes. I mean to take the time we need this time around.” His voice was the most painful mix of careful soothing and quiet desperation. “You’ll stay here. I’ll visit on the weekends. You’ll remain independent until you decide otherwise. We can look for someone to run the Youth Center here so you don’t have to worry. And everything will be your choice. Please.”

She looked up at him. “And we’ll take things slow?”

“As slow as you want.”

She bit her bottom lip for a brief moment, mulling things over. “What if I decide it won’t work?”

“Honestly?” Tsuna asked. “I’ll probably be back the next day with every rose in a fifty mile radius and your great-aunt Bertha yelling at you to marry me.”

She smiled, a soft laugh pealed from uncertain lips, and Tsuna felt his heart leap.

There was a pause, a consideration.

“Fine.”

Tsuna let out a relieved sigh. A load of tension eased from his shoulders, bleeding away with the warmth in her smile.

Seeing the stress he’d been carrying, trusting his word, she took Tsuna’s hand with the hand still held in both of his. Together they walked to the couch and she made him sit in front of her so she could rub his back and shoulders.

As she kneaded his muscles in the most wonderful of ways, Tsuna inquired of his love in a soft voice, “Would you really have shot me.”

Her motions continued without change, tender and capable. “I won’t die, Tsuna. Not like that.”

There was a strength in her words, a passion and conviction Tsuna had never previously realized.

His soulmate was strong.

“Good,” he stated with a firm nod. “You’ll need that resolve. I live a dangerous life. If you decide to live yours with me, you’ll need to be prepared. You’ll need to take that strength and hold tight. Focus it and let it become your will and your tool.” He grabbed her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his mouth, not kissing it. He leaned into the hand, speaking into the smooth skin. “As soon as you make the decision to be mine, as soon as you make the choice to stand beside me, you become my Donna; my Queen.”

[durenjtmusings]

The SPN Exclamatories, Expletives and Key Words/Phrases Database Project – #2 Croatoan chapter

(or TL;DR How Ben Edlund screws with research protocols.)

For those of you who missed it, I have set out on the totally insane project of researching SPN character language patterns for all 250ish episodes of Supernatural. I have also publicly agreed to share randomly regular reports on this research with fandom on Tumblr in an entertaining way. Linked below was the first report, inspired by @elizabethrobertajones​

The Great SPN Meta Scavenger Hunt: Round 2  - The Exclamatories, Expletives and Key Words/Phrases Listicle

This second chapter can also be blamed on credited to @elizabethrobertajones​ as it is the direct result of research for my entry into The Great Meta Scavenger Hunt - Round 3:  Pranks and Belief  –  for which I was forced to re-watch all three episodes that dealt with the Croatoan virus.* (Well, no, I didn’t HAVE to, I admit I wanted to.) SO, for your entertainment, listed below is the raw data and analysis for these three episodes, along with a bit of meta and some pointed opinions about Ben Edlund’s writing choices messing with my research.

For the convenience of those new to the research, the Definitions and Evaluation rubric for this research are listed immediately below the cut. Feel free to skip down to the good stuff (all the cussin’) at whim.

[Remember, you can skip this next part if you wish]

Research Definitions:

Exclamatory – ‘throw-away’ words which, if removed from the sentence, have no real effect – they are there for punctuation, character flavor, etc. and often start or end a sentence. Includes ‘pet words’ for people like son, boy, douche, Giraffe, etc. For my purposes, I did NOT count ah, well, alright or OK, because EVERYONE USES THEM ALL THE TIME in this show. Some words counted in this category ONLY if they were NOT used ‘correctly’ in context – examples (correct usage in brackets):  Hell (the place), God (the person/entity), hey (to get you to turn around), c’mon (to get you to come with someone) and man (to indicate a male person).

Expletive – swears, substitute swears and blasphemes (technically all exclamatories, but in a class by themselves). These were casually assigned ‘strength’ by how much I got in trouble for saying them when a kid (words like friggin’ were counted for strength as if they were the swear they replaced). We were not a religious family so blasphemes were all counted as lamer than more scatological swears.

Key Words and Phrases – Crack stuff said by characters that ‘define their voice’ – things that make them uniquely them. Fun phrases and sayings. Includes innocuous stuff like “Seriously?”, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” and chick. Sometimes a colloquialism was counted, like ‘ain’t been’ because it seemed unique to the character. NOTE: Cas is a special case here – his entries tended to be overly formal words no one else ever really says OR cases where he starts to use human idioms at ALL.

Method: Watched or read transcripts for all listed episodes and recorded all entries in the above 3 defined categories by character, with extras grouped as a block. Then grouped all recurring characters of note in a “friends and family” group for easier analysis, creating 4 main groups: Dean, Sam, F&F and Xtras. These four groups were then analyzed in the following qualities:

Evaluation Rubric:

Quantity - actual # of items recorded across ALL characters. Repetitions were counted individually.

Variety - (scale of 1-5) measures how unique and interesting items are for this episode, as well as ‘strength’ of expletives.

Originality - 5 points per item that made me chuckle or raised my eyebrow the 1st time I watched the episode

Sam vs Dean - % of Sam items to Dean items as an integer. Sam hardly swears, so we want to give him lots of credit for when he DOES do so. This also serves as a measure of ‘balance’ in verbal creativity for the episode.

Family & Friends - (scale of 1-5) QVO (see above) across other core characters (+1 bonus point if Cas had ANY)

Xtras - (scale of 0-5) QVO across any Xtras

Impress me – 5 points per character whose performance REALLY stood out to me (purely subjective, don’t argue with the researcher)

As always, I’ve listed the episodes chronologically. First up is our premier Croatoan episode, a fairly straight forward SPN script with a decidedly odd Monster of the Week. Lots of brother angst, none of our favorite recurring characters, and a fairly wide range of speaking extras. The verbal creativity is within the average range shown so far by my limited research.

2.09 Croatoan (writer John Shiban)

Dean: ventilated (shot), weirdo x2 (adj), whatever, a little too Stepford,     whacked out of their gourds, God knows, friggin' Shriner convention, wipe out (kill), taken out (kill), bleeding heart (sympathy), stick around     (stay), hey (defensively), What's up?, handsome devil, I don't swing that way, take it easy, feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, For God's sake, Hey, whoax4, easy there, chief (stranger), a good once-over, Hulk out, man, Damn it!, shut your pie-hole, Get the hell out, where the hell, friggin' , bang (have sex w/), stuck with,

Sam: Ring a bell, wiped out (killed), crapped out, hell, damn, get the     hell out, no clue (don't know), hey man, what the hell, pull that crap,

F&F:  - None in this episode

Xtras: Pam: Oh God x4; Dr Lee: What the hell, hey (calm down), dodged a bullet, What the hell?; Mark: put him down, it's your funeral. What the hell; Duane: Thank god, getting the hell out

Quantity –  59  

Variety –   3.5 [some     redundancy, decent range, avg strength]  

Originality –  15 [whacked out of their gourds, feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, a little too Stepford]

Sam vs Dean – 10/36 or  28

Family &     Friends – 0 +3 [Because none in this episode]

Xtras – 2.5 [good balanced team participation, wimpy variety, decent quantity]

Impress me – 5 [there was, across everyone, a LOT of hell in this episode]

        Total = 116 I note that this episode had sadly common themes of a) Dean deciding to kill a possibly innocent human, b) Sam being infected and accepting his fate/begging to be killed and c) Dean refusing to kill his brother and threatening to kill anyone who tries to. [This will be kinda important for meta later.]

Next we have our 2nd Croatoan entry and my FIRST Ben Edlund Headache – The End – an episode where no one is who they normally are – except Dean who spends the episode mouthing off to himself. My normal character categories (Dean, Sam, F&F and Xtras) were simply screwed, so I had to make adjustments. For analysis purposes, 2014!Dean is lumped in with 2009!Sam (who had almost NO lines) - this allowed me to have a balnce score of anythign close to reality. For interpretation purposes, Lucifer!Sam was treated as F&F Lucifer, and 2014!Cas is treated as a NORMAL F&F (that means we look for typical key words and phrases, rather than crediting him for overly formal phrases or mild idioms). Great – research parameters bent into line, off we go.

5.04 The End (Ben Edlund)

Dean: Too friggin' much, watching a Hell's Angel ride a moped, the mooks, Whoax4, come on, man, you can pop in, wearing you to the prom (possessed for apocalypse), be the dynamic duo, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon, Oh, crap, this Back to the Future crap, Bible freak, dropped a dime, You have had your jollies, you son of a bitch, What the hell?, man, friggin',  man, come on, dick (at 2014!Dean), Jeez!, jeez, getting busted, friggin' , fly me back to my page on the calendar, what the hell, blew him away, freaked them out, mess you up, wacky, stick is out of your ass, love-guru crap, welcome to the club, into a meat grinder (kill zone), oh man, deep-fry the planet, sympathy-for-the-devil crap, same brand of cockroach, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap, ghost of Christmas screw you, angel hocus-pocus, you're rusty, we are each other's Achilles heel

2014!Dean+ Sam: 2014!Dean: gank you, (kill), did the drill, scary as hell. went in the crapper, hell, whoa, version of the Parent Trap, what the hell, flipped (went crazy), plugging (killing), friggin, freaked them out, wearing him to the prom (possession), damn, cocky, whoax5, should be white-hot with (filled); Sam: sons of bitches

F&F: Lucifer (in Sam): handiwork, hairless apes (humans); 2014!Cas: dragonfly eye of group mind, our fearless leader, whoa, no dice, fearless leader, 'insouciant', grunts, bailed, my mojo, why the hell, baby (Dean), bang a few gongs, just how I roll; Zacharia - We want you to marinate a bit, boy,

Xtras: Screw you

Quantity –   90

Variety –  5 [OMG, strength and variety in spades – TWO Deans plus blissed out Cas.]      

Originality  –  35 [Hell's Angel ride a moped, wearing you     to the prom, deep-fry the  planet, ghost of Christmas screw you, dragonfly eye of group mind, 'insouciant', bang a few gongs]

Dean vs 2014!Dean – 22/50  or 44*

Family &  Friends – 4 [2014!Cas was brilliant, but Luci and Zacharia could have stepped it up – and Chuck was a total verbal wimp]

Xtras – 1 [this would  be zero, except there literally wasn’t screen time avaialable for them to talk!]

Impress me – 10 [Dean and 2014!Cas – while we all know Luci/Jared blew this episode away, this serves as proof that he did it with ACTING, not verbal creativity]

       Total = 189 This is a pretty damned high score amongst all 14 episodes reviewed so far. Who could have predicted that letting Dean argue and snipe at himself would create so MUCH verbal diversity. Oh, and that making Cas high for several years would shoot his verbal complexity RIGHT up. [Ok, everyone could have predicted this, but I’m the researcher, so I get to say sarcastic crap. For science.] Oh, and ALSO note that we once again have Dean (future Dean really) killing the infected/innocent human before anyone else is sure, Sam ‘infected’ (possesed), and Dean in a position to “argue” over killing his brother (with himself this time!). Hey - Meta!

Lastly, for our third Croatoan, we have something of a sleeper episode in the set. Bobby in the cast list generally means you get a few good rural flavorings, and Crowley almost always ups the score quite a bit. So I’m expecting this to be at least a high average episode. Boy was *I* wrong. Here Ben Edlund doesn’t mess with my character groupings and definitions, but rather with my rubric, which was NOT EQUIPPED to handle the imbalanced verbal creativity documented below.

5.20 The devil you know (Ben Edlund)

Dean: dealing them soft serve, up his sleeve, My heart's bleeding for you, get him to spill, Ah, crap, Oh, crap, Crap! Crap!, an 11th-hour thing, dropped (killed), jockeys (HoA), your little batcave, What the hell, you     son of a bitch!, hot stuff, (Crowley), Why the hell not, dammit, He buy your girl scout cookies?, My ass, sons of bitches,

Sam: Are you friggin' nuts?!, why the hell , no damn way, you son of a     bitch! X2

F&F: Bobby: another steamin'-hot pile; sick son of a bitch; eating his dust; got even a snowball (guess); chasing up zilch, time to go crazy, Rings a bell, shank myself, idjits, talking x off the     ledge, lining up to say "yes", million-to-one, pissant, brain-wrestling, chink in your armor, You're not exactly Mr. Anger management, watch your ass, get the hell off, before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas, chat some demons up, snake-oiling me, natural-born idjit (22) Crowley: Call your dog off (Sam); the most buggered son in all of creation, months under a rock, got  his eyes out for me, friggin', on the lam, how the mighty have fallen, keeping a close eye on, easily trumps your , cram the devil back in the box, the horsemen's stable boy, Sneezy (Pestilence), Nuts at his pay grade don't crack, sold sin to saints, close (make sale to), Fantastic. keep the home fires burning, Go get 'em, tiger, Uncle (?), went like clockwork, Up yours, mate, tie our friend here down. No zapping off, no smoking out, Locked in the meat suit, They got history, "corn chute," you got him nice and fluffed, When the morningstar cleans house, we all get the mop, Do the math, moose (Sam), get bent, won't budge, I stick my neck out, desperate swashbuckle, kick open a hive of demons, bloody, toadsx3 (re:demons), lovers in league against Satan, darling (Brady), you're in my boat now, haven't the foggiest, God, no; Bloody hell!, feisty, my delicate ass. (46)

Xtras: load of  crap, pure profit-driven crap, Who the hell, What the hell, God, no!; infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb; Awesome (7) Brady: enter the cutthroat world, awesome, I got the memo, fetal position on the floor (afraid), rip it right out of your ass, devil on your shoulder, Ding, ding! I think he's got it!, worried about our necks, crossed my mind, good kid --Straight arrow, all messed up, bitches, on the right track, ol' yellow eyes, worthless sack of piss, hooked you up, piece of tail, put the hit out on,  you've screwed me, yanked your chain     (20)

Quantity –  120 [73 of these are NOT Sam or Dean! Holy hand grenade.] 

Variety –   5 [lotta ‘crap’ this episode, but really, a very good range in variety and strength]      

Originality –  30 [He buy your girl scout cookies?, brain-wrestling,     blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas, Sneezy; morningstar     cleans house, we all get the mop; infectious equivalent of a briefcase     bomb]

Sam vs Dean – 5/20 or 25 [given how angry Sam was this episode, kinda low]

Family & Friends – 5 +1 [Simply stellar performance by Bobby and Crowley, plus 1 to reflect that.]

Xtras – 5 [Brady really brought this up – a one shot character with a strong showing, but the other xtras were no slouches either.]

Impress me – 15 [Bobby, Crowley, Brady – shocker, I know.]

     Total 206 Jesus, Mary, and Joseph look at the block of text data under Friends and Family! Out of 120 collected entries in the database, only 25 – only a FIFTH of the episode total – can be credited to the main characters. There is no way my rubric has given enough weight to the work of Crowley and Bobby. And even with that issue, the episode hits double an average episode’s verbal creativity score. [Damn you, Ben Edlund, stop writing such good Sh*t!]

Oh, and while this time, we don’t have the brothers trying to kill each other, we have the OTHER common theme of one brother protecting the monster(s) while the other tries to gank them every chance they get. Except this time it is Sam who is knife happy, and Dean who is making demon deals for all the right (wrong) reasons. This is also that episode where the Brothers admit that they are psychotic cold killers that monster mommy’s use to scare their kids into line.

Conclusion:

OK, so, what we can hesitantly conclude about the data so far with the additional information from THIS chapter of the project IS:

1) Standard MotW episodes – focusing on just the brothers, no F&F, tend to be average or lower in verbal complexity. This makes sense, who writes memorable dialogue for folks who aren’t ever coming back?

2) Dean talking to Dean, especially when both of them are angry or in crisis mode equals serious verbal complexity. And Cas on serious drugs loosens RIGHT up verbally. Again, who knew, right?

3) OMFG Ben Edlund can write for demons. And Bobby. In the Winchester’s defense, there literally wasn’t enough screen time FOR them to be creative. And from this we learn that increased verbal creativity for one character often results in decreased verbal creativity for another. If everyone is being verbally creative in an episode, likely no one will stand out.

Bonus: All three of these Croatoan episodes dealt with some of the big cross season overarching themes. No conclusions, just an interesting observation....

OK, that’s enough of this silliness for now. Next up for evaluation, a series of ghost-related episodes. Or not. Because I’m the researcher and I am in charge, that’s why.

* OK, yes, there IS a fourth episode dealing with Croatoan, 5x21 Two Minutes to Midnight, but for the purposes of the round 3 scavenger hunt meta I was writing, there wasn’t any information on the origin of the silly virus in it – it was just about shipping and delivery at that point. So I didn’t include it, shoot me (see previous “because I’m the researcher, that’s why” comments).