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aylacavebear · 9 months ago

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Retribution Chapter 9

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Talk of DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Angst - lots, some Fluff, Healing (yes, this is a warning).

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 9 - Picking Up the Pieces Pt. 3

You woke up in your bed, confused, and looked over at the clock.

Shit!

It was after two in the afternoon. Eileen and Charlie had shown up hours ago. You got out of bed and were about to head out of your room when Cas was there, between you and the door, making you jump.

“I’m sorry for startling you. You had a panic attack. I put you to sleep so you could naturally come out of it. It was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t want to involve Dean. I know how you feel about that,” he explained quickly.

You hugged him, which he returned, “Thank you, again. I’m just not used to… any of this. It’s so lonely, both in my head and around here.” Tears again burned the corners of your eyes, which you squeezed shut, deciding you weren’t going to cry right now.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here, as your friend. When you’re ready, the girls are here,” he replied.

Pulling away from him, you took a deep breath and gave Cas a nod before both of you headed out of your room and down the hallway. You walked behind him, utterly nervous about how this was going to go. You knew what kind of flirty relationship some of your personalities had had with Charlie, but you didn’t see her that way.

There was laughter coming from the library, but it quickly died down when you and Cas made your way there. When Cas moved from in front of you to his seat at one of the tables, Charlie and Eilieen just stared at you for a moment before both of them jumped up and wrapped you in a hug.

You didn’t realize you looked like a scared child, and they were going to give you a chance with the DID gone. Even though you hadn’t wanted to cry, feeling them hug you, hugging them back, the tears fell without your consent.

“I’d thought you’d hate me,” you whispered, even though you knew Eileen couldn’t hear you.

“You’re family, Y/N. We don’t hate you,” Charlie tried to reassure you, looking at Eileen so she could read her lips.

“She’s right,” Eileen added, “We don’t hate you.”

Eileen may have been deaf, but she could read lips, and still speak reasonably well for a deaf person. You’d learned sign language after meeting her, and you’d kept that after healing the DID.

“Now, let’s go have some drinks and get to know this new you,” Charlie chuckled, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You managed to smile but looked more at the floor as you walked with the two of them to one of the tables. Eileen sat across from Charlie, and you sat next to Charlie but turned your chair so you were facing the two of them more so than the boys.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you chuckled, signing the words as you spoke them, making it easier for Eileen to follow the conversation.

“Sam kept us updated for most of it. How about you tell us how it feels without the DID?” Charlie asked fairly curiously.

You had to pretend that neither of the brothers was sitting at the table, thankful that you couldn’t see either of them with how you were sitting. You took a swig of the beer you’d grabbed off the table before you began, signing the words as you spoke.

“It’s weird. The thoughts in my head are mine. When I’m emotional, I can’t just go inside my head and let someone else take over,” you paused, taking a deep breath, as these were things you hadn’t shared with the brothers. After another swig of your beer, you continued.

“I kept some stuff from the personalities and got rid of the stuff that I didn’t want. I never want to hurt or abuse anyone again, so anything related to that I got rid of. I think the hardest part, at least in the beginning, was figuring out what I truly wanted.” You explained, this time taking a sip of your beer.

“That’s crazy,” Eileen said, fairly surprised.

“You gonna keep hunting?” Charlie asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Everything feels like it’s up in the air right now,” you answered, keeping things vague, but you caught the look Charlie shot Dean.

“Well, if you want to, you’re always welcome to come with us girls,” Charlie teased playfully.

“Yeah, leave the boys home to worry for a change,” Eileen added, giving Sam a look.

“Thanks,” you chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Charlie took a sip of her beer and looked at you. “So, why did you take off like you did?”

You knew that question would eventually come up, “I was mostly scared. I was also overwhelmed by everything that came flooding forward. It was a lot,” you began, then looked down at your lap and sighed. “I was looking for Crowley. I figured since he was the king of hell, I could make a deal with him. Have the same things done to me or put through some kind of torture for what I’d done to those I care about. I thought… I thought that way, they could have retribution for what my personalities had done to them.”

Both girls gave the brothers a look, which you missed before Charlie spoke up again, “Hey. I’m willing to give you a chance. The old you never would have said that stuff, let alone meant it.” You felt her hand over one of yours, making you look up at her, and she saw the sadness in your eyes.

“And if that lug-head over there doesn’t want the new and improved you,” she glanced at Dean before looking back at you, winking, “I’d take you in a heartbeat.”

You swore you blushed to your toes, feeling completely embarrassed, and had to look away from her, “That’s sweet of you, Charlie. I’m uh… I’m not into girls,” you stuttered out, embarrassed.

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, taking her beer in hand, “That’s okay. I don’t mind playing with you and showing you a good time,” she teased you further, causing Eileen to laugh and your blush to deepen.

You were speechless and now needed something stronger than beer to calm your nerves. You were aware of the flirting that had gone on between a few of your personalities and Charlie, but you were not prepared for her to flirt with you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the whiskey bottle on the table and grabbed it, taking a swig.

It burned a little going down, and you made a face as you set the bottle back on the table. Your heart was pounding in your chest again. You recognized the sign instantly as the beginning of a panic attack.

“Excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute,” you said calmly as you stood and walked to the kitchen.

You placed your hands on the table as you slid down into one of the seats, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. It took a few minutes, but you managed to calm down your racing heart and steady your breathing.

He didn’t say anything.

With a heavy heart, you walked back to the doorway when you heard them all talking. Some of it was hard to make out, so you got as close as possible without being seen.

“Seriously, Dean?!” Charlie snapped, “I’ve been around her for all of ten minutes and can tell she’s fucking different.”

“Even Cas is vouging for her,” Eileen added.

“It has to be some sort of game or trick,” Sam began to argue, but Eileen cut him off.

“Sam, Dean. She’s different. If she needs to stay somewhere else until both of you can see that, we’ll take her,” Eileen stated bluntly.

“I’m sure Jody would even take her in. That woman is perceptive, and even she’d be able to tell within the first five minutes that her DID is gone,” Charlie snapped at the brothers.

“Her personalities have done stuff like this before. I just… I can’t,” Dean tried to argue.

“I swear to Chuck, Dean. I know what her personalities put you through. Cas told us that she baked you a pie today and did your laundry, and about what she did in the room, you two shared. I don’t care what you think is going on. Anyone with half a brain cell can see she’s different,” Charlie persisted.

You sighed silently and walked into the library, “Thanks, Charlie, Eileen, for seeing me. Please, don’t force them though. And please, don’t be mean to them just because they haven’t seen what you guys do.” Your voice was quiet, and your gaze was again on the floor. “I wanted to have a nice evening with friends, family.”

Cas had stayed quiet during all of this. He’d said all he could say to them, and he was proud of you for defending the brothers, even though he saw how much their disbelief had been hurting you.

Charlie and Eileen finished their beers before standing, “Y/N, you have our numbers. Text either of us if you need a place to stay for the night or longer,” Charlie told you. Then, they both hugged you before they left. Eileen didn’t even kiss Sam beforehand. Your gaze hadn’t left the floor, not even when you heard the bunker door close behind the girls.

“Great! So now you have them tricked as well, and Eileen is pissed at me because of you,” Sam snapped, making you flinch.

“I’m sorry…” you practically whispered, feeling the waves of sadness wanting to drown you again.

“That’s enough,” Cas growled, which made you look up at him. Cas wasn’t angry often, but he looked pissed at the moment. “Just because you have your doubts doesn’t mean you get to be mean to Y/N. Same goes for you, Dean. She needs a healthy environment to finish healing in, as well as friends and family who are on her side while she does. If it’s too hard for the two of you, I’ll take her somewhere else.”

The brothers were speechless, and you felt the tears on your cheeks again. Cas had been their friend before he was ever yours, and now, he was standing up for you, against them. With a shaky breath, you walked over and set your hand on his shoulder.

“I appreciate this Cas. I really do, but… I’ll be okay here. Honestly, I probably deserve far worse, and if Karma decides, she’ll dish it out as she sees fit,” you told him quietly.

Karma and Fate were technically the same entity. You didn’t know if you were on their radar or if they would even bother with you, but you had to at least consider it, given your line of work.

“You don’t deserve that. It wasn’t you. You’re different. You’re not them-” Cas began, but you stopped him.

“That part doesn’t matter. Same face on the mugshot,” you replied quietly, then went to your room and closed the door behind you.

It had become your sanctuary at this point. You leaned against your door after locking it, letting your head fall back slowly till it met the door behind you.

Was I wrong with what I said? Should I have let them keep going, keep arguing? I don’t want to be the reason they fight with each other. They’re family. They’re each allowed to have their own opinions, thoughts.

You sighed and felt like you were stuck in a never-ending rut and no clue how to get out of it. You weren’t even sure how to proceed with Dean, as he’d made no move to be near you, let alone interact with you since that morning. And Sam acted like he would rather just kill you than give you any sort of chance.

Looking toward your closet, you thought about your bag that lay empty at the bottom of it.

Perhaps if I leave, things might be better for them, easier.

A groan left your lips in frustration as you sat down at your desk and pulled out your paper and pen, again writing out your thoughts before choosing any sort of action. You knew this was going to be hard, but going through it was something entirely different.

You understood how they felt toward you, more than you could even explain to either of them, even if Sam wouldn’t listen. When you wrote, you wrote as if you were writing to them, getting out everything you wanted to tell them or say to them. It helped far more than keeping a regular journal, but you had one like that, too.

Tears slipped from your cheeks while you wrote, allowing it all just to come out. At least Sam had been blunt with how he felt toward you. That at least let you know where you stood with him. Dean’s silence and distance had been the hardest.

You had no clue what was going through his head, but that was just how Dean worked. He had never been the best at sharing his emotions with others. He’d only done that with one of your personalities, her. The one you’d kept the most from.

That’s probably why it hurts so bad. I’m not her, but I’m like her, and he can see it, and it hurts him.

The thought brought more tears to the point where you had to pause writing and cry for a bit to get them out. You still had a couple hours before you’d be starting dinner and decided to just stay in your room until then. At least there, it was quiet.

Dean’s POV

He had no idea what to do since you’d told him what you had that morning when he’d been enjoying the pie you had made for him. Hell, he didn’t even know what to say about that. He couldn’t even manage to thank you for it.

Dean wanted so badly to believe Cas, but Sam had made a valid point; your personalities had done things like this before to lull him into a false sense of security. His mind and heart were at war, not only with each other but with themselves.

You were so much like her that it hurt not to be close to you, but it hurt to see it and experience your softness. So, after you’d gone to your room, he just sat there, sipping his whiskey, silently lost in his thoughts.

“Cas, how can you be one hundred percent sure that her DID is gone?” Sam asked almost angrily, which caused Dean to glance at him with his eyebrow raised.

“I’m an angel, Sam. I can see into her mind. There is literally no trace of her other personalities. It’s just her in there,” Cas answered, fairly annoyed.

“But she’s acting like them,” Sam argued.

Cas made a groan/sigh, “She chose what she wanted to keep and what she didn’t. Weren’t you paying attention earlier? Do you even care, or would you rather hate her because of her past that she had no control over?” He again made an aggravated groan before he stood up, placing both his hands on the table.

“Bobby was right when he called the two of you idjits. You are. You’ve both been able to forgive each other and move past the lies and deceit each of you has done to each other. All the two of you have wanted for the last ten years was for Y/N to find a way to heal from the DID. Now that she has, you want to kill her, and you will barely look at her,” Cas scolded them.

Cas typically didn’t get angry like this, and when neither brother said a word, he kept going, “I’m only going to give this one more week before I take her somewhere else. She needs encouragement, friendship, and family. You two need to wake the hell up and see her for who she is, not who she was.” With that, Cas disappeared from the library. Dean sighed and looked down at the glass of amber liquid in front of him. He had a point, and Dean knew that.

Can I dare to hope that she’s really different, that her personalities are really gone?

It was the question that continued to circle in his mind.

“Cas doesn’t usually get like that,” Sam said somewhat quietly, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Maybe he’s right. I mean, what if we give her at least one more chance?” Dean said just as quietly as Sam had.

Sam sighed, “I just can’t watch you go through all that again. I know you love her, at least that one personality she had. But…” he paused and glanced at the hallway, “...could you love her?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know. She’s different, but there are certain similarities that I see, and… it hurts, you know. I just, I don’t know how much more it would hurt if she wasn’t here.”

The two were silent for a while. Dean sipped his whiskey, and Sam sipped his beer. Neither of them really knew what to say, not out loud, at least. It wasn’t until you walked through the war room and into the kitchen that Dean finally spoke up.

“I’m gonna at least talk to her. We’ve spent years reading people. We learned her quirks when she had DID. I’m going to learn what makes her different now that it’s gone,” Dean stated quietly as he looked toward the kitchen.

“Dean, just, don’t get your hopes up,” Sam tried to argue, but even he was having a hard time with that with what Cas had said.

“I’m not, Sam. I’m gonna treat her like she’s someone new, someone I don’t know and haven’t spent the last almost twenty years with,” Dean told him quietly.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Sam remarked, fidgeting with his beer.

“I’m not asking you to, but no more being an ass to her. Cas was right about one thing. If he is right about her DID, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like she was the one who did those things,” Dean said flatly but seriously.

Dean finished his drink before he made his way into the kitchen, and he couldn’t help the smile when he smelled what you were cooking. He didn’t want to startle you, so he knocked on the doorframe, alerting you to his presence before he sat at the kitchen table, watching you.

Your POV

After writing out everything from in your head, you went to the kitchen to start dinner since it was close enough to time, and you were getting hungry. You saw the brothers still sitting in the library but said nothing as you went to the kitchen. Once the fries were in the oven, you started on the burgers and bacon.

He hadn’t said anything.

That thought, from Charlie's earlier words, was still bothering you, and you were still trying to shake it out of your mind. When you heard the knock on the doorframe, you did jump a little, but not as much as you would have if he hadn’t done that. You gave Dean a small smile before looking back at the food on the stove.

The silence was deafening the longer he just sat there and didn’t say anything, but you weren’t sure what to say to him at this point. You felt like you wanted to cry, and at the same time, you wanted to yell at him. It would have been easier if he’d just hate you, yell at you, and tell you to get out. But, he hadn’t done that either.

“Do you hate me, because I’m here and they’re gone?” you asked quietly, not looking over at him.

It had been something that had gone through his mind, more than he wanted to admit, “No. I don’t hate you. I wanted to. I even tried to,” he began, then sighed. “Then, this morning, you looked so happy, and you baked me pie,” he looked down at his hands clasped together on the table.

“I almost left again, earlier. I figured neither of you wanted me here anymore,” you confessed, flipping the burgers in the pan.

“Honestly, I’m afraid they’ll come back, and it’ll start all over again,” he confessed.

“If that happens, Sam’s already let me know he’ll shoot me, which I’m thankful for,” you replied, checking the bacon and fries.

“He what?” Dean asked, and you could hear the hint of anger in his tone, along with the shock of your revelation.

That made you look over at him, worried, “I don’t want to hurt anyone again. But, most of all, I don’t want to hurt you or Sam. I know you wouldn’t be able to do it. I just…” you turned from him when you felt the tears burn your eyes again. “...I can’t put you through that again.”

Whatever fight Dean had in him to keep his distance from you was gone at that moment, and he was behind you, holding you close. “Which personalities did you keep things from?” he asked you quietly.

You put the cheese on the burgers and turned off the oven and the burner on which the bacon was on. As you spoke, you put the bacon on the plate with the rest. “The kind ones,” you answered quietly, “I’m not them, though. I’m just like them in ways.”

Dean stepped back so you could finish taking care of dinner, leaning against the island and crossing his arms. “Is that why you’re cooking my favorite meal?” he asked.

“I wanted to do something nice for you. It’s hard to know what’s okay and what’s not. I don’t even know if you want me, since I’m not them,” you answered without looking at him, working on dinner.

You put the fries in a bowl, the burgers on a plate, the bacon on a plate, and then set the table for the three of you since Cas didn’t eat. Dean just watched you from where he’d been. You set your hands on the end of the table, your back to Dean.

“I just don’t know what I am to you, and I don’t want to push for anything. I honestly just want you to be happy and find some semblance of peace, even if that means without me,” you told him quietly before heading out of the kitchen.

Sam was still in the library, sipping another beer as you approached him, “Dinner’s done,” you told him from the archway between the library and the war room.

He picked up his beer and gave you what looked like a forced smile before he walked past you and into the kitchen. You sighed, letting your shoulders fall in a mild defeat, then headed to the kitchen as well.

Dean was sitting on the side of the table with two plates, setting up his plate when you walked in. When Sam went to sit next to him, he put his hand out, blocking the seat and motioned with his head for Sam to sit on the other side of the table.

You gingerly approached the table and sat down next to Dean. He still hadn’t shunned you, but he hadn’t exactly said much in the other direction either. “I hope you guys like it,” you said quietly and then made up your plate.

When Dean took a bite of his burger, he moaned at the taste and you couldn’t help the smile that brought to your lips. You ate a fry quickly, trying to hide how happy you felt with him enjoying something you made. Even Sam’s surprised expression brought you a sense of joy, but you stayed quiet and ate your dinner.

Dean and Sam had silent conversations with just a glance several different times during dinner. You didn’t need to ask if they liked it. You could see that they did, and that brought a small, content smile to your lips.

You smiled to yourself as you got up when you were done and began cleaning up. This was something you never would have done before. Sam and Dean just watched you for a moment before returning to eating. You cleaned up the counters and the island and realized that the two had finished eating.

“I got it,” you said softly and began cleaning up the table so you could start on the dishes.

“That’s different,” Sam barely whispered the words to Dean so you couldn’t hear.

Dean turned to look at you as you stood at the sink, washing the dishes, flabbergasted and speechless for a moment. There was one thing he could do that would give him insight as to whether or not the DID was gone, and he knew it. He took a deep breath, got up, and approached you.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he tried not to second-guess himself or overthink what he was planning to do. He put his arms around your waist, holding you for a moment. You did jump slightly, but you didn’t pull away, yell at him, or get violent. You just leaned against him while you washed the dishes.

“Dinner was really good, Sweetheart,” he told you quietly, trying so hard not to hope, but it was getting harder and harder not to.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you replied softly.

It was comforting, feeling him hold you close like this. You just hoped that it was you he was holding and not the memory of them. He stayed there the entire time you spent washing the dishes, which made you smile a little.

When you put the final dish in the drainer and cleaned out the sink, he still hadn’t moved, and you weren’t sure what to do or say. You dried your hands on the lower part of your shirt, since the towel was out of reach without pulling away from him.

“Can we talk?” he finally asked you, and you felt that anxiety again as your body tensed. “Hey, if I wanted you gone, I’d say that. I just want to talk, I promise.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Okay. Where would you like to talk?” you asked nervously.

“I’d ask you where you felt more comfortable, but I have a feeling you’d want to be where I felt the most comfortable, huh?” he replied, pulling you a little closer.

“You’d be right,” you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

“Alright then. How about my room then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, even if you couldn’t see his face with how he was holding you.

“I’m okay with that,” you replied, taking a deep breath.

“Then why do you seem nervous?” he asked.

“Cause I am. I can’t help it. I worry,” you answered honestly.

Dean kissed the top of your head before he moved away from you, but then he took your hand and led you to his room. Sam had gone to his own room a little while ago, needing to be alone, and Cas hadn’t returned yet.

He opened his door and let you go in first, then closed the door behind him, “You can sit where you’re comfortable,” he told you as he went over and sat in the chair at his desk, facing the bed.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment at the distance he put between the two of you, but you understood, at least to a point, why he needed it. So, you sat on the edge of his bed at the foot of it, cross-legged with your hands in your lap.

“Do you feel the same for me?” he asked, his straight-to-the-point question surprised you.

“I honestly don’t know. I know how they felt. I guess…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words as you looked into those emerald green eyes of his, searching for some sign of what he was hiding. “...I love you in my own way.” You looked down at your hands, feeling somewhat stupid after saying what you had.

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” he asked, his mask still up.

“Because of what Cas did, I don’t have all the memories right now. I do know that you never raised a hand to them, cheated on them, left them, or kicked them to the curb over the entire time. You tried, every chance you got, to help them deal with daily life and the DID. You even tried to help them get help so they could get better,” you explained quietly. The more you spoke, the more foolish you felt for falling for him through their memories. “That’s probably stupid, though, loving you for that sort of thing.”

You barely caught him tense, stopping himself from moving so he could sit next to you, “It’s not stupid. It’s kinda thoughtful, sweet.” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you said, slightly shyly, looking down at your lap again, trying not to smile, which wasn’t working very well.

“Look. I look at you, and yeah, I see them. However, I can tell that you’re different, and that’s probably the hardest part,” he began, and you looked up at him, unsure what to feel. “You act like her, but she’s gone. I know you aren’t them. I just…” he sighed, “...maybe I need to mourn them before I can move on.”

You felt your entire chest tighten, and it was hard to breathe again. “I can leave, if that would make it easier,” you told him quietly, focusing on your hands in your lap again. Looking at him hurt far too much at the moment.

“At least for a little while. I just need some time,” he told you.

All you could do was nod a little, unable to trust speaking, knowing you’d end up crying. You slowly stood and walked to his door, turning the knob and opening it. Your heart hoped he’d stop you, ask you to stay, but he didn’t, so you went to your room, closing your door behind you.

You crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. Just because you understood what he was going through didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You didn’t want to stay with Eileen, Charlie, or Jody. You wanted to be alone in some dark hole where no one was. For now, though, you’d sleep, and figure it out in the morning.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 10 - On Your Own

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

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hazbinsponsoredbyvee · 6 months ago

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Mel, why do you like staticapple? Just a general question because it's definitely one of the more rare pairings since they don't actually interact with the show and many Radioapple/Radiostatic fans often depict them in a battle trying to win Alastor's affections so I wanna know what about it drew you into it?

So, this is a bit of a long story, and I've been drinking, so I might ramble. I'll start with I'm not into RadioApple. I have honestly tried because I love enemies-to-lovers, but I just don't see it, no matter how hard I try.

Now, Lucifer and Vox are both among those tied for my favorite character, and so I spend a lot of time thinking about them both. If I remember correctly, I was thinking about how two of my favorite characters hate Alastor and them bonding over that fact if they met, and then I went on to think about how Vox being the opportunist that he is would definitely try to win favor with the King of Hell, and Lucifer would just eat up the attention. And that's where it started to turn into a crack ship.

I very jokingly came up with a scenario of Alastor and Vox starting to rekindle their friendship, but Alastor being the asshole that he is, doesn't actually care to show up on time when they were supposed to meet at the hotel. Lucifer ends up being there, so Vox complains to him, they share a few drinks, and end up making out. Alastor walks in on this and gets all jealous, but Vox is just like "Ha! Should've valued my time, bitch!" and leaves with Lucifer.

Well, that scenario stuck with me and evolved until I eventually started plotting a whole ass fic - again fully thinking of it as a crack fic. But then I started plotting out their interactions. And I thought about how they both have a passion for creating things, and they would admire each other for that; I headcanon them both as ADHD (Lucifer as AuDHD), and they would totally relate to each other in the way they hyperfocus on their projects; and they're both starved for touch and attention, with neither of them capable of doing things halfway, so they would inevitably end up completely devoted to each other. And suddenly I wasn't so sure it was crack anymore.

I started consuming StaticApple content (though still not as much as RadioStatic, I'll admit), and that funny, crack scenario I mentioned above evolved into my not-at-all crack fic, Red with Envy.

And then I realized that while enemies-to-lovers is definitely my favorite trope (bonus if it's friends-to-enemies-to-lovers), I do have a second-favorite romantic trope that I've never seen labeled before. I'll call it assumptions-to-friends-to-lovers. For me, this harkens back to Supernatural, with my main ship being drowley (enemies-to-lovers), and my secondary ship being sastiel (assumptions-to-friends-to-lovers).

Essentially, Person A is prepared to not like Person B (Lucifer's very prejudiced against Sinners/Castiel sees Sam as 'the boy with the demon blood'), but is surprised when they meet them to find that Person B was not at all what they expected. Person A gives them a chance, despite their preconceived notions, and find that they actually relate to Person B in a few ways. They become close and end up falling in love. Once I realized that, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't so surprising I ended up shipping StaticApple.

Thanks for the question!

#mel speaks #staticapple #applemedia #staticradioapple #red with envy

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box-architecture · 11 months ago

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In the Forensic Anthropologist AU, what happened to Dream? Why does he have lots of scars and a cane? What happened?

How do all of their coworkers react to finding out SamDream are dating?

…is there a Punz?

Dream had a split in his lip, a small scar from the accident he didn't talk about. Sam thought about it sometimes. He thought about how it stretched a little when Dream laughed, how it had the slightest texture when Dream let him cup his cheek.

It was a passing thought now, with Dreams lips wrapped around his cock. How pretty he must look, scars and all, and how Sam could only appreciate how he looked from this angle, looking down.

A mirror. Sam should get a mirror.

Schlatts business on paper is pretty typical capitalism. Off paper its pretty typical "assassinate anyone who tries to get in our way."

Quackity was working for Schlatt as the person who did the killings, so Schlatt wouldn't have to do the actual work and could focus on the business. Quackity has a normal, great life with his two partners who he's going to get married to. And Sapnap has always liked to talk about how cool his friends are, and sometimes they even all meet up for dinner, so Dream and Quackity are acquainted and friendly.

And then one of the bodies get discovered, poker chip in their mouth, tying back to Schlatt and Quackity, and suddenly he's a suspect and it's Not Looking Good.

And of course this means that Quackity is straining under Dream's calculating gaze, enough to try to complain to Sapnap, who gives Dream a hard time about it, because Obviously Quackity couldn't do those things, we know him.

And there's ice in Dream's veins as he digs further and further into the rabbit hole and thinks about how Quackity sleeps in Sapnaps bed, how Sapnap could be in danger.

So of course he urges Sapnap to think and look at the facts, and of course Sapnap takes that personally and goes to George, who has been trying to get Dream to stop focusing so much on his work for months. George seeing this as Dream pulling away from them and shredding all of Dream's case files he can get his hands on, and when Dream gets mad he can only yell about how dumb Dream is being to care more about his stupid work than them and their needs. And Dream packs his shit and stays at the lab, working tirelessly until he solves the case, trying to put it all out of his mind.

He's too close to unraveling their operation, so Schlatt has Quackity go after Dream. Dream has most of what happened buried in his mind as deeply as he can, but he does remember the taste of blood in his mouth while the FBI stormed the place Quackity had him.

(Sapnap and George don't come to the hospital. Sapnap isn't sure how he's supposed to apologize and George is having 500000 meltdowns in his house. So they don't come, and Dream quietly packs up his apartment and transfers to a different lab, as far away from everyone as possible.)

In the end, there's enough evidence to arrest Quackity and Schlatt. Quackity gets imprisoned, Schlatt manages to skeeve by because they can't prove he ordered the hit.

Schlatt is the first victim when Quackity breaks out. Dream recognizes his suit, even covered in grime as it is.

Serial killer Quackity breaking out of jail and leaving his poker chip calling cards. Dream arrives at a crime scene and sees one and just. He dissociates a little and Punz is looking super worried but Dream brushes it off and gathers the crime scene stuff together and goes home.

Only to get there and receive a phonecall or a letter from Quackity and things suddenly feel Very Unsafe Forever.

(when Dream gets panic attacks he gets angry, hates that he can't control himself, hates that this still has to matter even all these years later.)

When Dream and Sam get together, there's a sort of sigh of relief. Finally, everyone seemed to think. Maybe they can stop acting like they're in a soap opera. This is incorrect because they simply become more insane about each other in different ways, but for a Single Day there is hope.

For FBI Agent Punz, its a bit of a different story.

They're meant to investigate the murders that Dream solves, collect info and interrogate people. Protect Dream and keeps him from getting hurt on cases. Dream starts out as very lukewarm to cold with most people, and the agent assigned to him is no different. It takes a lot of work to win Dream's trust, and Punz doesn't even have to be friends with him to work together, but They Want To Try.

Sam comes to the forensics lab after Dream has gradually warmed to Punz, and they're at the beginnings of what could be romance. And then Sam shows up and suddenly he's in Dream's space So Easily So Happily and Dream is incredibly tender with this man Punz has never met.

And that's annoying as fuck.

Punz has learned the ins and outs of Dream, has come to love him fiercely, nearly In Love, and suddenly Sam Is Here.

And Sam thinks Punz is Good for taking care of Dream, keeping him safe, Punz is wonderful, so pretty and handsome and powerful and could lift Sam off the ground- But Don't Worry About That.

Sam doesn't think of Punz as Enemy Rival Number 1, he thinks of Punz as Potential New Friend At Job Who Also Understands How Important Dream Is, Surely.

Punz had a very comfortable, calm, unobtrusive thing going between him and Dream and now there's a very pleased creeper invading his space and touching Dream and being way too nice.

Punz is not used to people being that nice.

If this were a tv show the theme of like half the season would be Punz trying to navigate this new person who everyone else insists is perfectly normal (they have to be lying. There has to be some dark secret here. Dream doesn't smile like that for other people. He's vulnerable and there's a Threat. Why is Sam offering to get lunch with Punz???)

Sam is very bad at flirting with Punz. Mostly because he doesn't realize he's flirting with Punz. Punz also doesn't realize he's flirting with Punz

Its not Sam's fault Punz is just!!!! So strong, the epitome of a strong protector, the thing Sam always wished he could be. Punz's laugh is more like a bark and when he puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes its like a promise of safety.

Of course Sam would want that for Dream. Of course Sam wants that. Its only natural.

When Punz says "no I'm busy" or politely rejects Sam's offers of lunch or Getting To Know Each Other, Sam is just a lost puppy who assumes If he Tries Again surely Punz will be his friend.

(and of course it does eventually because Punz is not immune to friendship, much to their despair.)

#awesamdrunz #ask boxed #forensic au

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sapphiredhearts-a · 2 years ago

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lore / early life

please read my twilight wolf lore written in my jacob black headcanon here .

paul lahote was born into a family who looked perfect on the outside . they were the typical all-american family in a beautiful house in the suburbs . his dad was a former athlete who had gone off to college on a football scholarship and met the picture - perfect cheerleader . they were engaged and married before they graduated and paul's mother , grace , fell pregnant before she could get her degree . paul's father , john , stayed in school and finished his degree - becoming an accountant who made a good living and was able to move the family to tacoma

everything was . . . fine until paul was eight . his father had a temper from the beginning and pushed his mother into being what he thought was the perfect housewife . he never got physical with paul's mother , but the pressure was hard on her and she never seemed to get things right . she had dreamed of being a lawyer , not a stay at home mom and started to distance herself from john and paul as time went on . on paul's eighth birthday he woke to disaster - his mother had fled to her parent's house and demanded a divorce . john told him that she never tried to fight for any of them and had abandoned paul . despite not believing him at first , paul eventually accepted this version of events as truth and vowed to live up to his father's expectations so he didn't end up like grace .

it wasn't long before john moved paul away from tacoma - uprooting his young life even more . they went back to john's hometown of la push , a place john had said he'd never return to . but he had gotten offered a spot on the tribal council and declared it would be a good move . he could work from home out of a base in port angeles and devote more time to paul . paul thought perhaps things would turn around . he was wrong .

john was a pusher . he pushed paul to be perfect in all aspects of life - no matter how much it killed paul . paul had to join every sport he could , ace all of his classes , and always be seen with the "right" kind of people . he hated the popularity that came with being a jock . the other kids could never really relate to him because he could never be up front about his home life . there were times when john would get violent when paul didn't meet expectations but paul internalized it thinking if he had just been better it wouldn't have happened . he wouldn't leave his father like his mother had done , wouldn't give up on him . besides , he had nowhere else to go .

to everyone else - they were perfect . people adored john , especially after he joined the council . he would rant about how he hated not being higher up in ranks but he still went to every meeting and tried to make his opinion heard . the people of the reservation thought that john was the epitome of a good father . he had taken on being a single dad so well , after all . they would have never guessed what was going on behind closed doors . john was a charmer , for sure .

one thing john was very adamant about when paul was growing up was that paul would learn about the tribal legends . paul didn't think the legends were real , but unlike the other guys he came to know later , paul wished that they were . he wanted the strength that the shape-shifters of the legends possessed , the power . so he held onto every word that his father told him .

when he finally phased , paul was ecstatic to be a wolf . he had done so in a fit of anger after a fight with his father - luckily he had been alone so no one got harmed and sam happened to be on patrol to explain everything to him . paul took it in stride and adjusted quickly - happy to leave his friends and old life behind . he thought his father would be upset he had to quit sporst to avoid detection but he didn't seem to care . he only wanted paul to be the best wolf of the pack .

a few things bothered paul in his new state . for one , he had more trouble than the others controlling his emotions . sam theorized it came from unresolved trauma from his home life ( paul couldn't block them out of his thoughts and therefore sam & jared knew more about him than anyone - creating a close friendship between the three ) but paul refused to believe that . his father had only wanted the best for him . still , he struggled with his explosive anger . after sam hurts emily , paul tries harder to gain control of his emotions and even goes to classes for it - but he struggles every day .

another problem was that paul had been quite popular before transitioning . nobody knew why he had suddenly disappeared for weeks and when he came back seemed to leave everything behind - including a girl he had been seeing . paul refused to give explanations and was instead seen with sam & jared - fueling for the first time the "cult" rumors around la push .

#paul lahote headcanons #tw abuse //#☾ ` thinkin' i'm emotionally goin' down drains ; paul lahote musings .

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asgardianangel · 2 years ago

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One missing piece (chapter seven - first kiss)

Warnings: Unwanted kissing and touching, Lalo being weird, bad language, distressed reader

Ignacio felt guilt creeping up on him as you sat there waiting in the hospital. Your friend Leah was in critical condition. Ignacio knew what exactly happened. She got too close for his husband’s liking. And that’s how she ended up falling down the stairs and hitting her head so hard.

Lalo took this opportunity to comfort you holding you to his chest as you sobbed quietly. A missing friend and a friend that’s now in the hospital. You had no one else to rely on.

Hours went by.

After the alarming news of Leah being in a coma Ignacio convinced you to go back with him and Lalo. So, you agreed the car ride was silent your mind couldn’t comprehend what happened.

“It’s okay querida we will take care of you don’t worry about anything” Lalo’s voice suddenly spoke. Marco rested his sleepy head on your shoulder.

Why was this happening? Ignacio linked his arm with yours as you walked into their home. There was still blood at the bottom of the stairs staining the tiled floor. You couldn’t bare to look “It’s okay it’s okay” Ignacio hushed Lalo walked up the steps carrying a sleeping, Marco. Ignacio led you to the downstairs bathroom his hand turned the faucet of the bath then the water poured as you sniffled in sorrow.

“Hey hey look at me” his hands grasped the sides of your face Ignacio wiped the tears from your glossy eyes. “The doctor said she’s receiving the best of care you never know she might wake up tomorrow” he said hopefully. But he didn’t hope for it at all she wasn’t good for you. She doesn’t deserve someone like you.

Ignacio smiled as you nodded in understanding. Oh, how much he hated seeing you cry like that.

When he left the bathroom, you tried to relax in the hot water, but it was impossible your mind would drift to Mark and Leah worrying for their wellbeing. You still didn’t know of Mark whereabouts. Then you realised Leah’s friend Sam was tracking his phone.

“I need to speak to him” you tell yourself standing up in the bath. Suddenly the door opened, and you quickly sat back down in the water. What the fuck?

Lalo walked in as you covered your body in bubbles and wrapped your arms around yourself. He smiled at you as you looked at him embarrassed and confused “I got you some towels” he said in a weird cheerful manner. He was acting so unaware of what he was doing and placed down the towels on the edge of the lavish sink.

Doesn't this man know of privacy?

Then he stepped closer to the tub staring at you “thank you” you shyly say wanting him to leave. His hand then touched the wetness of your hair “we just want to take care of you know? A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be so sad” his voice softly tells you.

Does he realise what has just happened?

Lalo pressed his lips to your forehead (to what felt like a long time). You quietly gasped at the sudden act of affection then he walked to the door “Dulce niña (sweet girl)” he purred then left.

What was all that about?

When you retreated to your room away from that strange situation you focused your mind on important matters. You didn’t really know this Sam guy, but he was bond to be following Leah on something. You checked on each one of her socials, but no account came up.

You gave out a frustrated sigh and then tried to get in touch with your uncle Mike but there was still no answer. You felt stuck and the only people communicating with you was Lalo and Ignacio and they weren’t really helping.

Hopelessness was an intense emotion and the lack of sleep made your paranoia so much worse, so you went downstairs for a glass of water and a breath of fresh air.

Standing in the heavily lit garden and sipping some cool water you decided to make the call and report Mark missing as the twenty-four-hour mark surpassed and hope for something good to finally happen.

“Can’t sleep?” Lalo’s voice asked you turned around to see him leaning against the doorway. “Not really” you shake your head. “Me neither I never do” he chuckled. You smile weakly and look up at the night sky. Lalo walks over and stands next to you. “I have noticed some of my decanter missing” he chuckled again.

“Normally I don’t ignore broken rules but given what happened I let it slide” he tells you with a smirk.

“Sorry about that” you softly apologise. Lalo places his hand on your shoulder “It’s okay. How about you have a glass with me? You look like you need it querida” He smoothly suggests.

“I think I’ll pass thanks” you refuse kindly, but Lalo wasn’t having it “Just one and we can talk more it will make you feel better” He urges.

The more you refused the more Lalo became persistent. “One glass then” you agreed causing Lalo to give a cheerful smile “good girl” he told you.

He's heavy on the praising

You sat down in the longue room shifting awkwardly as you watched Lalo pour you a glass of wine. “There you go querida” he handed it to you.

Lalo undid the top button of his shirt staring at you as you pressed the glass against your lips. Why is he staring like that? You immediately noticed how close he was sitting next you. His thigh pressing onto yours “delicioso know?” Lalo raised his brow and you winced at the suddenly strong taste.

“Yeah, it is” you hummed. Lalo made small talk as you drank Lalo certainly had a way with words. But the atmosphere was still uneasy given you sitting (so close) with your married employer trying to drink away your nerves.

Then you heard Marco’s voice from upstairs “Papa!” you looked at Lalo and he sighed “Ignacio can see to him” he chuckled. “You are so motherly to him” Lalo mused. “I’m just doing my job he’s a good kid” you simply say.

“You know that’s what he needs a good mother” Lalo said softly. Curious you wanted to ask about his mother. “Does he have one?” you asked.

“Not really a year after me and Ignacio tied the knot, we found a surrogate and then Marco was born” Lalo explained, and you hummed in understanding.

“We want another baby” Lalo said gently tucking a loose hair behind your ear. You looked down at your glass blushing a little “Marco would love that.” you replied.

Lalo chuckled “Being a Salamanca and all he would protect his little hermano or hermana” he told you. You could imagine. Flinching you felt Lalo's hand suddenly press on your thigh “I always think about having a bebé the old-fashioned way” his words made you feel strange. Is he drunk?

You were about to stand up and say your goodnights but then Lalo faced you and lips pressed against yours with such force it took your breath away. His strong hands held your head in place, and you tasted the mixture of whiskey and the wine you were both drinking. So hard and bitter.

Lalo’s tongue was so desperate to explore your lips and you tried pushing him away. He finally released you from his snake like grasp with a groan and you stared at him in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” you managed to whisper in confusion you heard Leah’s joking teasing about how you were going to be stuck in a middle of an affair.

You needed to get away...NOW!

“Is everything okay?” Ignacio’s sleepy voice questioned he stood there shirtless rubbing his eyes. You had no idea how to respond.

“We just had our first kiss” Lalo stated, and you gasped in shock is he fucking serious?

Ignacio sighed and shaked his head “baby I told you it’s way too earlier to do that” he told his husband in disappointment.

What the fuck?!

Mike arrived at the regular meeting place his dull expression stayed the same but the concern for his niece was beginning to weigh in.

His employer sat in front of him (on time like always) “She’s been calling me nonstop” Mike stated. You had no idea what have thrown yourself into. “She’s just a distraction from what really matters she needs to be with them as long as possible. I don’t want any mistakes” the man told Mike.

“Nothing bad will come of your niece you have my word for that”

to be continued...

Note: I'm sorry this update took a really long time

@joshuagrayboy

#lacho x reader #one missing piece #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo x nacho #nacho varga x reader

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 2 years ago

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Shattered Identity.

Chapter One: Taking care of the world's most stress-enduing tamagotchi.

It was a long, hard, teeth-grindingly annoying battle and to be honest, Danny had made it past fear and frustration and was impressed with himself for just surviving this long in what felt like a two-against-one battle against Vlad and his own mom. Sure, she was aiming and shooting at both ghosts but Vlad was much better at deflecting her shots and even managed to aim some of them at Danny. While thankfully it seemed that Maddie was finally running out of ammo, Vlad had no such limitation and was getting annoyed with the length of the battle, which naturally meant that he was hitting harder and when one of the beams made their target, it knocked Danny straight into the ground, leaving a crater where he landed.

He groaned as he tried to pull himself out, holding back a frustrated sigh as he saw Vlad flying down to where he was, most likely to either gloat or just finish the job-

Before a single word left the older halfa's mouth, Vlad let out a horrible, chilling scream as bright red cracks formed all over his body in a matter of seconds and he was vaporized before the teenager's widened eyes, leaving nothing behind but ashes that smelt like burnt flesh and a visibly damaged, bright red core that glowed weakly as it fell on the pile of ash.

Danny looked to it with his mouth agape and looked back up at his own mother reloading the new, extremely effective weapon.

"Not my intended target, but that's the Wisconsin ghost taken care of for good, now for the Phantom..."

Before she could aim to take the second shot, his body moved faster than his mind did and he snatched the core before flying out of shooting range as fast as he could while his thoughts raced.

How did his mother make a weapon so effective?! How long did she have that thing?! If Vlad didn't unintentionally take the hit, what would've happened to him?! Heck, he didn't even know what just happened to Vlad right now! He could be carrying his nemesis's equivalent of a corpse for all Danny knew! But what he did know was that the last thing his parents needed in their anti-ghost arsenal was knowledge on a ghost's core.

[Tukr1 Sa! Hep!] He typed and sent as fast as he could while still flying to safety. [Mom kld Vad1]

[Danny? What happened?! your mom... Kid Vlad? Is she dealing with a kid version of Vlad or something worse?]

He turned intangible and hid inside the nearest building, looking around frantically to make sure he wasn't followed and gently setting Vlad's core on the ground before responding to Tucker.

[No! She K I L L E D Vlad!] He took a picture of the core and sent it to them. [This is all that's left of him and this would've been me if mom shot who she was aiming for!]

[What?! Dude, PLEASE tell me you're outta there!]

[Yeah, I'm hiding in what's probably Lancer's attic right now, can I come over? This was one of the worst fights yet.]

[Sure thing, I'll go get the first aid kit. Do you wanna spend the night here too? I'll ask my mom and your dad.]

[Yes, thanks Tuck, I owe you one.]

[No problem man!]

[I'll be there in 5]

He picked up the core and took a few seconds to catch his breath. He hated how still it felt, so quiet and only letting out a soft, pained hum, nothing like the loud and dramatic villain he was used to fighting. He by no means liked the man and if he was blasted in the butt by a weapon that was just a ghost beam but out of a gun he probably would've laughed given the opportunity, but he didn't want this for him! He didn't want something like this to happen to anyone!

"Hang in there, fruitloop, it's not gonna end like this..."

He muttered as he pocketed the core and flew off to Tucker's house.

"Danny! Thank goodness you made it- Why did you bring that?" Sam gestured to the core in his hand.

"Well I couldn't just leave him with mom!" He set the core down on Tucker's desk. "She'd dissect him!"

"And maybe he'd be into that-"

"Tucker!" Both Sam and Danny exclaimed at the same time, not amused by the joke.

"Alright, alright!" he took out the first aid kit and popped it open. "So where's the worst one?"

"Right here..."

Sam's eyes kept darting between Danny's injuries while she and Tucker patched them up and Vlad's cracked core, looking at the former with a worried expression and the latter with a glare. She's seen Danny get out of scraps with Vlad with a couple of injuries but this time took the cake...

"So what did he do to himself again?" She asked while digging through the first aid kit for the rubbing alcohol.

"He got hit with some weird new etcogun my mom was wielding. It turned his ouch body into ashes while leaving his core like this, and I think it broke it too."

"What are we gonna do with it?" Tucker asked while wrapping up his friend's arm and keeping an eye on the core, looking at it with more a sense of mild disgust and intrigue rather than anger, as if the technology loving teen was looking at a disembodied, still beating heart instead of a core. "I mean, who knows what'll happen if we send that sucker into the ghost zone? It could fuse with some already powerful ghost who hates you and try to get revenge!"

"Why don't we finish the job and destroy it?! Vlad's nothing but trouble anyway and its not like he'll ever change for the better!" She stood up, marched over to where the core was sitting, and just chucked it out the window.

"Hey! Don't!" Danny flew out the window and caught the core before it hit the ground, letting out a sigh of relief before floating back into the house. "It might be Vlad's core but its still a ghost core!"

"...So should we just put it in a fishbowl or something so it doesn't cause trouble?"

"No! ...Maybe? Look, after these injuries heal up and I steal the ectogun from mom, I'm going to go to Frostbite and see what he thinks about this, okay? And in the meantime, we're leaving the core alone. No breaking it, no putting it in weird spots, no selling it to some unknowing victim, just letting it be until I figure out a long-term plan for it."

"Okay, and while you do that, maybe Sam and I can hack through Vlad's nearest mansion's security system and check out if he has a plan set up or anything."

"And maybe 'borrow' a few things..." Sam added.

"Sounds like a plan."

"But for now, you seriously need to rest. It looks like your mom and Vlad used you as a punching bag"

"...Yeah.."

___

Weapons in his parents lab were almost suspiciously too easy to steal, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just taking the thing out of its case and walking through the portal was all he had to do for the 'smash and grab' part of this mission.

"The sooner Frostbite finds a way to fix you up, the sooner we can go back home and we can forget this ever happened..." He grumbled to the quiet core as he continued the mostly silent and thankfully uneventful journey to Frostbite's kingdom.

"Hey, Frost? I need some help..."

"What's wrong, Great one?"

"Well..." He showed the yeti ghost the red core and the gun, making sure its safety was on just in case. "Vlad got shot by this weapon, and he ended up like this."

"Oh ancients!" Frostbite took the core out of Danny's hand and examined it closely, his face knitted in concern as he noticed even more of the core's damage. "It's a testament to his endurance that he's even held together for this long... If he was even the slightest bit weaker, he could've been completely destroyed by that thing!"

A pit of anxiety gnawed at Danny's stomach as Frostbite's words echoed in his head, he could've been completely destroyed by that weapon too and it was only sheer luck he hadn't been.

"...Is there any way to fix him?"

"Well, there's good news and bad news..." Frostbite knelt down and pointed to some faint lines on the core that the teen wouldn't have noticed had he not pointed them out. "See this? judging by the patterns, this was a crack, normally something that would've been followed by completely shattering, but instead it's mended itself. The good news is that he doesn't need to be fixed because he's already awake, aware, and attempting to regenerate on his own and will be back on his feet any hour now, a day and a half at absolute most."

Frostbite smiled a bit before the smile turned to a frown, he wrapped up the core with a shred of cloth, and he spoke as if trying not to be overheard by someone spying on him.

"But the bad news is that he had little to repair himself with, so he seems to have resorted to a form of self-sacrifice. I have never seen a fire core this dull in color before and I fear what it means for both him, and everyone around him when he reemerges."

"Will he be even more dangerous when he comes back?" Danny copied Frostbite's quieter tone. "And if that happens, is there a way to get him back to normal?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know that at this stage. I'm not aware of what he's sacrificing to mend himself and to be honest, I'm not sure if he knows what he's giving up either. There's almost endless possibilities to what will reform from it: He could come out as a feral ghostly beast with no humanity at all, a fully human being who could never become a ghost again, a clueless fool, an astute genius, a child, an old man, something weak, something powerful, an even more dangerous foe than ever before, or even a reliable friend and ally... The only certainty here is that the sacrifices he makes won't be easily undone, if at all."

"Wait, what was that part about a friend..?"

"There is a large chance that he will reemerge as a fairly blank slate, no memories of his past life or afterlife at all. If that happens and if we're lucky enough, we could guide him away from the dark and lonely paths he set down upon last time." He handed the wrapped up core back to Danny and cleared his throat, switching back to a normal speaking voice. "But if not, its nothing to beat yourself up over, while surely even he could understand the severity of the situation, if he chooses his bitterness and lust for power over everything else, that's his problem."

"Right, Thanks Frostbite, I'll keep all of that in mind..."

"I know that there's a lot of fear and uncertainty regarding him, but to be honest, I fear that the far greater threat is that weapon..." He looked at the gun with a worried expression. "If it falls into the wrong hands, it could result in genocides across the ghost zone. Or even worse..."

"...Is it safe to destroy it here?"

"No, especially not when whatever it uses could eat away at the ghost zone... but is there a place in the realm of the living where it could be safely destroyed?"

"I think so?" He shrugged "There's bound to be something in the lab that can neutralize it somehow... Hopefully my parents didn't just make the thing without a way to keep in in check in case it's too dangerous for humans..."

"We can only hope I'm afraid"

"Right..." Danny sighed. "Well, thanks for helping me clear things up about Vlad."

"And you can count on me to help in case he does try something funny." The Yeti patted the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "If he sets one foot out of line, all you have to do is send him here."

"Got it, I'll keep that in mind."

___

When he got home, Danny spent the first few hours looking after the core at his house, he practically watched it like a hawk. Just waiting for even the smallest bit of movement or the tiniest flicker that even so much as suggested that he was about to reform, waiting for Vlad's sooner-than-expected return with bated breath.

He knows that Frostbite said 'a day and a half at most' but he also said 'any hour now'.

He just wished Vlad would hurry up and get up so that he could kick his butt and send him back to his home if he turned out evil. He didn't have a plan for if Vlad came out good and or without memories, but he figured he'd cross those bridges if they came up.

For all Danny knew, the second he took his eyes off of the dull-colored core was the second Vlad sprang back into action as a terrifying ghostly demon, or a flamethrower-wielding ghost hunter, or something even worse than anything he's ever faced before! But at the same time, there was the chance that the former villain could become something harmless and gentle, something innocent that the boy would feel guilty destroying just out of sheer panic...

"Danny?"

His sister's voice jolted him out of his clouded thoughts.

"Are you okay? You've been starring at that ball for a while now."

"It's Vlad."

Jazz sat on his bed by him. "What did he do this time?"

"No, I mean..." He held up the core. "This is Vlad. He's going to come back out of this thing any hour now, but he's going to come out different from his normal form and the uncertainty is killing me! At this point I don't even know if his core is alive or not! I haven't even gotten as much as a humming noise out of him since I visited Frostbite and-"

"Danny, take deep breaths," She put her hands on the teen's shoulders. "How long have you been watching him since you came back home?"

"Uh..." He checked the clock.

"Okay, how about we take two-hour shifts? You watch him for two hours and I watch him for two hours? If anything bad happens on my shift, I'll get you imminently."

"Got it." Danny nodded as he handed her the core. "Please don't chuck it out a window like Sam did. I know I don't want to save or protect him, but I also don't want him to shatter or anything, especially if there's a chance he could become good after this."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it doesn't break open, little bro." she gave him a soft smile. "You can count on me."

"Thanks Jazz" he smiled back.

"Anytime, Danny."

As she took the core to her room, she placed the core on her desk and gave it a cautious glance every ten minutes while working on her psychology homework.

Ten minutes, no response or noticeable changes.

Twenty minutes, continued uncomfortable silence from the core.

Thirty minutes, nope.

Forty minutes, nothing.

Fifty minutes, more nothing.

Sixty minutes, she finished up with her homework and just in case, examined the core closely.

It was a grayish-pinkish color with thin white lines all over it like a spiderweb that wouldn't be noticed unless they were either pointed out to the observer or the observer had a keen eye. She very lightly squished the core and found out that it wasn't as hard as she had originally thought, having a texture closer to a firm foam ball than a smooth glass rock as suspected.

As soon as she squished it, it started feeling slightly warmer in temperature as if heating up. While it didn't grow too exceedingly hot, staying just at a 'Laundry fresh out of the dryer' level of heat, it was still a change, a response to stimuli... But she didn't know if it was a big enough one to warrant calling Danny just yet, only proving that the ghost attached to this core was still after-alive and kicking, so she just put it back on the desk.

Seventy minutes, she was writing in her diary and noticed no further changes from the core.

Eighty minutes, she finished writing and still no new changes. She lightly tapped on the core and internally noted it was the same temperature as it was when she initially squished it.

Ninety minutes, no further responses.

One hundred minutes, also nothing.

One hundred and ten minutes, she wasn't quite sure if one of the white lines on the core disappeared or if she was just imaging it.

One hundred and twenty minutes, curiosity led her to turn on her laptop, put the core close to it so it could 'see', and played the last five minutes of a prerecorded Packers vs Vikings game in which the Packers won. She let out a faint gasp as she noticed that the grayish core regained more and more color as the five minutes went on. She didn't know much about ghost cores or that they had them at all until today, but she could figure that Vlad was at the very least not in the ghost equivalent of a coma while like this. Or at least if he was, then he could still hear.

As her shift finished, she picked up the core and took it back to Danny.

"So how did it go- Woah! It's warm and he got some of his color back!"

"Is that... good? I had a Packer's game playing in the background for a few minutes and I think he reacted to it."

"I mean, it's good for *him* but we still don't know if he's gonna be good or not..."

"...But if he's still evil, maybe he'll give us a five minute head start to prep?" She half-joked, making Danny let out an amused snort. "Remember, just a two hour shift, okay? You don't need to spend all your energy making sure this watched pot doesn't boil over."

"You don't have to tell me twice..." He took Vlad's core back, his smile falling a bit as he saw that the cracks were more visible against the brighter color. "...I just hope that he's not going to seek revenge imminently after getting back up..."

"Me too..." She sighed. "But if he does, at least we have all the stuff needed to hold him down."

"Yeah..."

Danny's official second shift was a lot like the first in that he didn't get any responses from Vlad's core at all.

Thirty minutes in, nothing happened.

One hour, still nothing. But he was also feeling a little bit curious, if Jazz could get a reaction out of him by playing a Packer's game, then maybe he could also get a reaction by showing him something he liked.

He hid the core in his pocket and went downstairs to the basement where his mother was looking over blueprints and hadn't noticed him yet, not doing anything to grab her attention yet, just holding up Vlad's core out of her sight to see how it responds...

...And fumbled in panic, almost dropping the core as he saw how quickly it went from kinda healthy-ish looking to completely colorless! The cracks in the core were darkening as if the ghost was about to shatter himself to keep her from seeing him like this.

Danny didn't even take the few seconds to put him back in his pocket before scrambling up the stairs in the hopes that putting two flights of stairs of distance would keep Vlad from completely shattering.

"Sorry! Sorry! I thought you still liked her!" He frantically apologized to the core that was making a high-pitched, distressed whine as he held it. "...But I guess in hindsight when you hold a grudge against my dad for twenty years after becoming half ghost, it means you're not going to take this lightly either... ...I guess this means you hate both my parents now." He dryly chuckled.

The whine started to die down and the cracks faded a bit, Danny didn't know if it was because of the distance put between the core and his mother or that he was talking to it, but either way he continued.

"Do you ever ask yourself what things would've turned out like if Mom and Dad knew about your ghost half when you first got it?" He sighed while flopping on the bed. "I might not have had a mentor, but at least I did have friends who knew and stuck up for me, helped me hide when I needed to, helped me train, were there for me... Maybe if you had the same, you wouldn't have been this... well, loopy. Who knows, maybe if you got over your crush on my mom, you could've kept your friendships and been a part of the family you obsess over so much."

The core didn't answer him, not with sound, heat, or color.

"...Just thinking out loud." Danny sighed and checked the clock. "Anyways, it's late and its also almost time to hand you to Jazz, don't try to kill us in our sleep, okay?"

As he carried the core back to Jazz's room, he could've sworn he felt the letters 'O' and 'K' being traced on his palm.

DP prompt where Danny is fighting Vlad– losing to him, getting beaten bloody– when Vlad is struck by a strange blast.

It’s an ectogun Danny has never seen before, held by Maddie, and when it hits Vlad he just– breaks down. There’s an awful screech and all that’s left of the man is his ruby-red core.

Danny, despite nursing several injuries caused by the man, rushes to catch his core. The last thing he needs is his parents finding out about ghost cores– let alone possessing one.

With the core in hand, Danny turns tail and flees. He rushes to Tucker’s house, texting his friends along the way, telling them to meet him urgently.

While Sam and Tucker tend to his injuries, Danny holds Vlad’s core gently in his hands. It feels too quiet and still for a core, but he can sense faint waves of pain radiating from it.

Sam’s mad enough about Danny’s injuries that she suggests he toss it out the window. Tucker just thinks it’s a little gross and probably unsafe.

Danny, though, knows the true importance of a ghost core and feels a deep desire to protect it. He hates that he feels that way.

The first chance Danny can get, he finds the weapon Maddie shot Vlad with and steals it. He takes both the weapon and core to Frostbite, asking for his help. Hoping that Frostbite can fix whatever happened so he can be rid of the man’s core.

Unfortunately, Frostbite tells Danny that it will take some time for Vlad to recover and reform. He also warns Danny that, due to the unstable nature of the weapon and Vlad being a halfa, he might reform incorrectly. Strangely. The fear in Frostbite’s eyes as he investigates the gun sends waves of dread down Danny’s spine.

Danny now has to babysit his arch enemy’s core, not knowing what Vlad will be like when he recovers.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #sam manson #tucker foley #maddie fenton #frostbite danny phantom #jazz fenton #fanfic #I loved this prompt so much it couldn't be contained in a one shot #Shattered Identity

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samstree · 3 years ago

Text

Revenge Best Served (Right out of the Oven)

Sam does not have kind words for a certain witcher.

1k, also on AO3

“I think,” Sam says, placing Jaskier’s hand gently on his knee, palm up for easier access to the scar, “I wouldn’t like this friend of yours very much.”

“Well, Geralt is an acquired taste.” The cool touch of salve soothes the tingling in the tips of Jaskier’s finger. He adds, “for most people anyway. It takes a while to warm up to his grunts and hums, but you’ll see he’s quite good underneath all the coarseness—”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Sam cuts off, to Jaskier’s surprise, but his voice is gentle. Of course, the baker is always gentle no matter who he’s talking to, and he’s also applying a minty salve on Jaskier’s old wound carefully and blowing on it from time to time.

But there’s also something else in his voice, stiff and distant, which makes Jaskier pause.

“Sam, darling,” Jaskier turns his hand to grab the one cradling his, the burning sensation in his fingers now eased. “Look at me.”

Beautiful brown eyes lift to meet Jaskier’s, the warmth in them ever-present, but the hint of anger is unmistakable.

Hmm. That is a first.

“Let’s not talk about him anymore,” Sam says, holding Jaskier’s hand up and placing a kiss on his wrist. “It ruins the mood.”

“You are cross with me.” Jaskier frowns, not understanding how he could have provoked the kind-hearted baker. “Do I talk about Geralt too much? I can stop if you don’t like it. Although I’ve made telling his story my whole career and the habit is just a bit hard to break.”

“Jaskier.” Sam’s eyes go wide, taken aback. “It’s not you I’m angry at. It’s him.”

Jaskier blinks. “You’ve never even met him.”

His blood runs cold at the idea that Sam might be like everyone else, ready to throw stones at witchers despite everything, despite Jaskier. No, not Sam too. He won’t be able to recover if—

“I don’t need to meet him to know he’s a terrible friend.” A sad smile stretches across the baker’s face, and Jaskier finds those warm, strong hands he loves so much at his side, caressing the exposed skin under his untucked chemise. “You went away with him and came back hurt. You can’t even play the lute and your clothes are all ripped. You’ve—” Sam bites his lips, anguished, cupping the sharp line of Jaskier’s jaw. “—You’ve gotten thin, and I—I’m angry at the witcher for returning you like this.”

Oh.

Jaskier catches Sam’s hand, ready to defend Geralt by instinct. “It wasn’t his fault. It was the mage, and prison, and the mountains. He tried—”

“I think I hate him,” Sam says with finality.

Jaskier can only shake his head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t hate anyone. Even when you do you forgive them because you are you.”

Because Sam has a heart too big for his own good. Jaskier wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason that those brown eyes darkened with hatred. He wouldn’t know if he’s worth it either.

“Hurting you is not something I can forgive.��

The silence that follows is unexpected. Jaskier tries to open his mouth several times but no words come out. In the end, he realizes his defeat—a bard is thoroughly rendered wordless by a baker.

“Well then,” Jaskier sucks in a breath, a pool of warmth gathering in his stomach. “What will you do if you ever see Geralt, my bravest defender and most generous lover?”

Sam does not back down. “I will certainly give him a piece of my mind! He should count himself lucky to have you at his side. If I had the honor of traveling with you for twenty years, I’d…”

Jaskier cocks an eyebrow. “You’d…?”

“I’d treat you right,” Sam answers. “I don’t care if he’s a witcher, or can fight monsters taller than our bell tower. I’d fight him if this happens again.” He looks down at Jaskier’s fingers. “And if I lose, I lose.”

Somehow, Jaskier doubts that. Despite his gentle personality and soft appearances, Sam is incredibly strong in the arms. Jaskier has enjoyed watching him carry sacks of flour and flexing those muscles on many sunny afternoons. The image of him shoving Geralt in the chest—and very possibly succeeding in toppling the witcher over—makes Jaskier let out a choked laugh.

“I’ll introduce you one day, just so I can watch you kick Geralt’s ass, perhaps.”

“I mean it, Jaskier. No one should be so careless with you on my watch!”

“I have every faith in you, my sweet, sweet Sam.” Jaskier winks. “Now speaking of, it is true that I’ve not had a decent bread roll in months. Will you heat up some cinnamon buns for me?”

Just like that, all the warmth in Sam’s eyes returns, those brown eyes reminding Jaskier of the caramel melting in the oven. “Better. I’ll make fresh ones.”

“And lemon cakes?”

Sam nods. “And lemon cakes, with extra honey. I’ll make the fruit tea you like, just to complete the set.”

Jaskier clasps his hands together, letting out a squeal. “You truly know how to pamper your bard, my dearest. Have I told you how much I love your profession? Seriously, it was the most excellent career choice one can make at the age of thirteen if you ask me! Oh, how will I ever repay you?”

“Just…” Sam smiles softly, brushing away the hair at Jaskier’s temple and placing another kiss there, his beard tickling a bit. “Be careful. With him, with your heart.”

With you too.

Jaskier wants to add, but all he can manage is a simple promise. “I will.”

Sam seems satisfied at that, despite the light worry still at the corners of his lips.

Hunger takes over and Jaskier reluctantly lets go of Sam, resisting the urge to sneak into the kitchen and nibble on whatever he can find and distracting his baker with more kisses.

No, he can’t do that. The cakes will be ready much later and he’ll end up with flour all over his hair. He needs to be strong.

Two minutes later, Jaskier decides, maybe he’s not a strong man after all.

#sam the baker #jaskier x sam the baker #jam #jam fic #jaskier #jaskier x oc #hurt/comfort #sam does not like geralt that much #that has to be said

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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years ago

Note

can u do streamers with a plus size reader? ty i love ur fics ♡

+ reminder! every body type is beautiful in its own way, and I’m sure that all of the mcyts would want to date a person of any size! hope you enjoy<3

++ I also added a couple of insecurities that are common for a lot of people cause I felt like it ^-^

dating a plus size reader; mcyt x reader

dream:

dream is an absolute softie for you

he will literally carry you anywhere you go

even if you insist for him not to

he just lifts you up into his arms and runs off with you

as I’ve mentioned before, he loves squishy places of the body

especially the booty ;)

so expect a lot of grabbing whenever he’s near you (with your consent, of course)

always tells you how amazing you look

even if you’re only wearing sweatpants and a basic tee and feel like absolute shit

and he would definitely have you pose for pictures of his merch

georgenotfound:

he loves resting his head on you

uses your chest as his personal pillow

he thinks it’s absolutely crazy how you’re able to make every outfit look good

like, you could wear a plastic bag and still look like a model to him

you two go out to eat fast food at the most random times

some days midnight, some days at 5am

admires your confidence

sapnap:

THIGHS THIGHS THIGHS

he loves your thighs sooo much and always has his hands (or eyes) on them

he almost holds your thigh more than your hand

and he just thinks you’re so gorgeous and can’t believe he can call you his

but when he finds out you don’t think so, his mind is blown

like... what?

are you blind????

he tells you how “you’re so fucking hot” every day until you start thinking so yourself

badboyhalo:

loves baking cakes with you

and makes sure you’re always well fed

he absolutely adores your stretch marks!

he loves just tracing his fingers over the lines

following them around with his fingertips

and gets very focused about it to a point where he stops listening to you talk

he makes sure you never feel down about something as natural as stretch marks

and makes sure to kiss every place you're insecure about

technoblade:

techno literally doesn't care what you look like

he only cares if you're happy, cause he really hates seeing you sad

especially when he can't do anything about it

so when he catches you one day looking at yourself in the mirror with a look of disgust

his heart crumbles in his chest

sits you down to talk about it

and gets more touchy afterwards along with spurring out compliments more often

wilbur soot:

wilby is also a big sucker for thighs

he’s not super grabby, but he gets his point across;

that he absolutely loves every part of your body

to be honest, like techno, I see wilbur as someone who literally does not care what you look like

if he likes you, he’ll love the way you look either way

he is very appreciative of soft, fleshy parts of your body

that he can just cling onto when he wants

jschlatt:

fuck, does schlatt love to have you on his lap

like he might not come across as someone who’s cuddly

but I’m telling you

he is super cuddly

he just wants someone to hold and to be held by

he needs that physical touch and he just can't seem to keep his hands off of you

he’ll tell you “you look so stupid right now”, laugh, and then give you a big ol’ bear hug

jokes aside, he makes sure you know just how dizzyingly beautiful you look 24/7

corpse husband:

fishnets, legs, fishnets, legs

even if you don't like wearing fishnets, he’s just all; legs, grab, thighs, squish

no but seriously he loves your legs so much

they just catch his attention and immediately make him go soft

without you doing anything you’ll just hear him giggle at you

and then realise he’d been looking at you for a hot minute, just taking in how absolutely stunning you look

and he doesn't fail to let you know that :)

karl jacobs:

like wilbur, I think he just genuinely doesn't care and loves you regardless of what you look like

we all know that karl’s way of showing affection is through touch

so he loves cuddling up to you

using your chest as a pillow and engulfing you in his arms

and he’ll be whining within a second if you even a much as try to move away from him

something he doesn't realise he does, but you do, is that he will just randomly hold on tight to a certain part of your body

even if you're just talking

his hands will be on you without him even noticing

and it’s really cute

skeppy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I think that skeppy really likes the way skirts look on you

or tight-fitting jeans

anything that compliments your body, really

though he does like the way you look without any clothes on

anyways, he fucking loves your body so much

and any person who thinks differently is not his friend

he’s always hugging you

or brushing his knuckles over your arms lovingly

small touches are his forté

fundy:

he can never seem to keep his eyes off of you

no matter how hard he tries, you’re just too gorgeous

isn’t the touchiest of the boys, but when he’s in the need for some physical touch, he’s very obvious about it

will start off by holding your hand

and then maybe move onto hugging you from behind

comes off pretty clingy once he needs that love and affection

he just loves touching you; maybe cause your skin is soft? he’ll never tell you (it’s his little secret)

quackity:

MMMME GUSTAAA

he looooooves loves loves how, and I quote, “thicc you are”

and he gets so clingy, too

makes grabby hands at you if he needs to to catch your attention

and definitely, without a doubt, uses your chest as his personal pillow

he’s also a squisher

your thigh’s kinda become his little stress toy

alex will fully commit to being a complete simp for you - he does not care at this point

can get blushy sometimes when he catches himself looking at you for too long

punz:

if you thought that sapnap would be wild when it comes to thighs, let me introduce you to this man

luke is a massive sucker for some thick thighs

and don't even get me started on the flesh on your hips

he lowkey has an addiction to constantly keeping his hands on there, but it’s not like you mind

it’s like his hands are glued onto you sometimes

holding on tightly or gently, doesn't matter

and sometimes he’ll even get lost in the way his fingers dig into your skin

can't fathom the fact that you're all his

awesamdude:

sam is literally the cutest🥺

gives you compliments all the time

and literally always has a hand on you to gently caress your skin

and he is always gentle with his touches

and I mean always

drawing circles onto your back or arm using his thumb

placing small kisses on your temple

he always posts pictures of you on his instagram and twitter

has like one or two pictures of himself, and the rest are of you :]

slimecicle:

literally smothers you with love and affection

he loves the little dents in your thighs from cellulite

finds it sooo attractive

loves to trace his fingers over the dents

notices immediately if there are changes in your eating habits

and will confront you the second he notices cause he can't bare the thought of you eating less than usual

makes sure it never happens again

eret:

they have a special seat for you right on his lap

if you were comfortable with it she’d love for you to sit with them in his streams

SHOWERS you with compliments

constantly

and leaves trails of kisses everywhere

even if you whine about it being too much or distracting you

he ignores it and continues

can't believe she’s ended up with such a god/dess as you

jack manifold:

jack was completely shocked when he found out you were insecure about your body

what was there to be insecure about?

to his eyes you were completely perfect, and he just couldn’t understand how… you couldn’t see that?

makes sure you now how absolutely stunning you are

can't help but to show you off to everyone (he is a leo after all)

and also let’s his hands roam all over you - with your consent, of course!

adores you so much

tommy:

tommy had seriously never thought of it before you’d said that you didn’t want a piece of cake after he asked

and he goes; why?????

and you’re like; I shouldn't eat it

and he’s even more ???

doesn't know what why or when you decided you “shouldn't” do something as normal as eating

it’s so very obvious how soft he is for you when it’s just the two of you

and even succumbs to his soft side in front of others if he gets too caught up in your beauty

tubbo:

tubbo just… doesn't care

like, at all

but of course he notices the absolute beauty of you, and will simp for you

doesn't shower you with compliments, but gives subtle signs

a common one is squeezing your hand

or calling you cute or adorable

brushing a strand of hair out of your face

simplicity is his thing

ranboo:

lots of hugsss

unintentionally squeezes too hard so you have to tap his shoulder

and he just giggles

he likes resting his head on practically any part of your body

cause you're so comfy

wants to constantly fondle you in his arms

he’s become so used to clinging to you, it’s just by instinct at this point

____________________________________

tag list✰

@zayenz @terribletoothbat @0t0n1n @0125cm @yukiuheh @shinee-is-5-forever @regularnoceur @b01nk-b0w@christhebish@nutritious-emo-crackkk@bookishreid@giavanna-707 @reddiesmcdonalds@cosmins@vixxzial@autumnpleaves@paradigmax@meaganjm@shiningsunrises@moralofwalls@username1212131@gxldentaestuff@innitdream @televisionpresent38 @bubblyanis@zurami @highoffhockey @popinjaytaylor@196os@livsbaby@doubts-of-gold@bunlina@retrav @mcyt-is-my-life@aleaisntcreative @my-shitpost-of-writing @my-shitpost-of-writing @clownsdrowning @pissbabywastaken@shiningsunrises @tie-dyed-dumbass @death-by-rats@simpfordraco @bippity-boppity-boopa@neongreendaydreams @vibin-by-myself@littlepotatos0w0@christhebish @pipp-poppz@btsiguess-kpop@prettysmallfries@hiyoko-kos@kenmxskitten@fudrudy@weepingartanimespy@rhino-zucchini@goldenstarofthunderclan@melonmarz@ubeicecreamisthebest@polaroidinurroom @ady-yoo@isimpforeveryone@edenhollandd@ineedtogetoutofhere@glitter-night @hamilsandersfam@mothheart-witch @wrong-exit@trashcanfullofdork @hellfirepheonixx @marshmallow-babe@isimpforeveryone @ky50621 @randomcloud@wormie4k@dinonuggies50 @p4rty-t4ttoos@aspenthegremlin@book-of-anarchy @jeyacore @thetattooink@gogywasfound@millavalntyne@junob1ade@ubeicecreamisthebest@karida @i-have-paws-love@drvgonraja@eatasslikegrass@creamofweep@venusomega@lunarfedora@rowe-n @wreny24 @vincent-stargogh @floatingplanets @vernon-dursley @childhoodgrunge @fivxss @hexagonclash @crazyjuls12 @littlebabysandboxburritos @shifted-dreams@lenamarie666 @reinyrei @sozvuchiy @weaslvy-mxlfoy @aiofheavenandhell @honeyglaazed @carisle-mikealson @ineedtogetoutofhere @twist3dtinkerbell@cracraforfandoms@angel-dazey @leia-starly @smiithys @squiddyyyy @c0wc0ww @animeweeb019284 @m00-bl00m-k0le @stqrs-thoughts @jenlouvre @uhhhguiltypleasures @trappedchest @punzrights @trashgremlin36 @cyberrsoot @elebeleb @k3nn3dis-crap @karlshoodies @rascal-in-banishment @heartbroken-writer @bartok-the-magnificent @ihavenoideashelp @goldiefox1 @bethybop @helluhru @venuzblr @pha5ed5tar50 @cscooop @bethybop @lunareclipse-13 @http-strawberryy

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sapphosthoughtsandwritings · 3 years ago

Note

if it’s not too much to ask please please please could you write more avengers x teen!reader? I adore the one with fear of the dark and was wondering if you could do something similar? Like either the avengers comforting the reader or just something with lots of hugs and cuddles? Thank you!! <3

Stage Fright - Avengers x anxious!teen!Reader

Summary: When your presentation for class goes terribly wrong, your team mates come to rescue you and take you home.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety, panic attack, a few cuss words

Type: angst, ends with fluff

Word Count: ~2.5k

A/N: MY FIRST REQUEST, very exciting!! I am so so glad you liked my work, and I hope you enjoy this one as well!! <3 I also have quite a few more ideas for teen!Reader fics, so this definitely won't be the last piece like this!

(Y/l/n) = your last name

(f/d) = favorite drink

You’d been dreading this day for weeks now. Clutching the straps of your backpack, you let out a deep sigh, walking up to the doors of your school. You didn’t like school to begin with, but the building seemed much more intimidating today. Making your way through the halls, you were grateful that you got to school early, you hated pushing through crowds of people.

“Hey, hey (Y/n)!”, a voice called from down the hall. You recognized it almost immediately. “Hi Peter, what’s up?”. You were happy to see him, maybe talking out your nervousness would help. “Oh, you know, just the same old stuff. Sure am tired though”. “Well, if you don’t sleep then you will be tired”. “Like you’re one to talk (Y/l/n)”. You only rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him, evoking a chuckle from him. “How about you? How are you doing?”. “Ugh, not great. I have to present that project today. Not particularly looking forward to it”, you huffed, looking down to the ground as your anxiety increased at the thought of presenting alone. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll do great. Most people don’t pay attention to presentations anyways”, he assured you. You popped your knuckles, still feeling just as nervous. You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the fear surging through you. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to do it. Maybe if I wait long enough, there won’t be any class time left for me to present”, that was your hope, and your only plan to get out of this without panicking in front of the whole class. “Maybe, well regardless, I hope it goes well”, he offered you a sincere smile. “Yeah, I hope so too”. “Well, I should probably head to class, see you at lunch!”. “Right back at ya, Parker”, you waved gently to him as he disappeared down a hallway.

You made your way to your first class, deciding to read a bit before class started. Nothing you did eased the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind though. Your first two classes were easy enough, but it was hard to focus, your mind racing with intrusive thoughts. ‘What if my voice gives out? What happens if I start crying in front of everyone? God, the whole school will hear about it. Everyone will stare at me, whisper about me every time I pass by them. I can’t do this, I just can’t’. By your third class, you’d bitten your nails down to blood, your lips suffering the same fate, cracked and split open. You almost considered skipping, but you’d worked hard on this project, you couldn’t let that go to waste. So, taking your seat in the back of the class, you tried breathing techniques, anything to help calm your senses. Your leg bounced so much, you swore the floor would give out under your foot.

The teacher turned out the lights, letting people present their projects voluntarily. You calmed the tiniest bit. If someone randomly kept volunteering to present, the class time was sure to run out before you even got the chance to stand up. Throughout the class, you were on edge, chanting silent prayers in your head. You weren’t very fortunate though, as everyone presented quickly, making it apparent that you were going to have to present no matter what. “Alright, who hasn’t gone up yet?”, your teacher called out, looking at her grading sheet. ‘Oh my god, please don’t see my name. Please tell me I don’t exist. Let me just disappear. I can’t do this’. “Oh! (Y/n) still hasn’t presented, come on over and I’ll pull up your project”, your teacher chirped.

Your heart pounded painfully hard in your chest, slowly standing up on jelly legs, keeping your gaze down as you walked to the whiteboard. You couldn’t possibly do this. You were going to die. Every mission you’d ever gone on seemed so miniscule in this moment, as you looked out to your peers. It was too dark to see most of their faces, which only made your situation worse. Your teacher pulled up the project on the projector, gesturing to you to start presenting, as she clicked her pen, ready to write down every mistake you made.

Letting out a jittery breath, you clasped your sweaty hands together and began talking. You were shaking so badly, it was like an earthquake had erupted inside of your body. You could feel the tears threatening to spill past your eyes, leaving a hard pain in your throat. Your chest hurt, and your breathing was becoming more erratic. But you had to finish, you had to get this over with. Just as you were on one of the last slides, a voice called from somewhere in the class, “Hey, pipsqueak! Speak up, would ya? We can’t hear you back here!”. The comment elicited a few snickers, which your teacher hushed quietly, but the damage was already done. The room was suddenly shrinking around you, as your chest tightened even further. You bit your lip, trying your best to compose yourself, attempting to push down your anxiety, but it only pushed back up more violently. “(Y/n)? You still have a few slides left”, your teacher said, but you didn’t hear her. Instead, your fight or flight instincts took over, and you raced out of the classroom, tears now breaking free, streaming down your face. You headed to the nearest bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, your whole world crumbling beneath you.

Leaning against the door, you slid down, breath caught in your throat, fighting to get out, but to no avail. Instinctively, you brought your knees up to your chest, clutching at the seams of your pants, letting out choked sobs and broken coughs. There was only one thing you could think of that might help you, and that was your teammates. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, continuing to shake violently, as you clicked the emergency contacts, thumb pressed to the first person, which just so happened to be Bucky. You lifted the phone to your ear, barely hearing the ring, despite your call volume being all the way up.

Bucky saw your name pop up on his phone, panic surging through him. You never called, it made you too anxious. He answered instantly, “(Y/n)? (Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”. His sudden panic mixed with your name caused both Steve and Sam to stand by him, all of them mentally preparing for an emergency. You wanted to reply, but all that came out was a squeak, as your fist collided with the tiled floor, your oxygen levels becoming more scarce by the second. Bucky put his phone on speaker, letting all three of them talk to you. “(Y/n), doll, you gotta breathe okay? Through your nose, count on your fingers”, Bucky stated, trying to keep his voice steady for you. “Yep, deep breaths (Y/n), you’ve got this. You’re gonna be okay”, Steve reassured you. After about 10 minutes of the three of them gently coaxing you out of your panic attack, you calmed slightly, leaving you crying quietly.

“We’re almost back at the compound, we’ll come and pick you up in about 20 minutes, okay?”, Steve said, giving no room for protests, although at this point you weren’t going to object. You wanted to go home. “Okay, I guess I should get back to class then”, you murmured, realizing that you’d probably been gone for over 15 minutes now. It was weird no one came to look for you, but you weren’t complaining. “If you aren’t ready to go back kid, that’s fine. We can stay on the call as long as you need”, Sam mentioned, his voice sounded beyond concerned. You had a bad habit of not taking care of yourself, especially in times of crisis. “No, I’ll be fine, gotta go back to get my stuff anyways”, you were dreading going back. The whole class would be focused on you for sure, not to mention the faux sympathy from your teacher, something that would surely cause another flood of tears. You just wanted to go unnoticed, for everyone to ignore your presence. “Alright, if you’re sure”. “I’m sure, I’ll see you guys soon”, you weren’t sure, but you had to convince them, you knew too well that they’d cause a scene at the school if things got worse. “Okay, stay safe sweetheart, we’ll be there as soon as possible”, Steve stated, before Bucky reluctantly hung up the phone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, groaning slightly as you forced your stiff body to move. You stepped out of the stall, silently thanking the universe for not letting anyone walk in during your breakdown. You looked to one of the mirrors, finding a disheveled figure staring back at you. You grabbed a paper towel, dampening it in the sink, and gently washing the dried tears off your face. You fixed your clothing and washed your hands, before making the godawful trip back to class. There was only 5 minutes left for the class, but that was more than enough time for shit to go wrong. You stood outside the door for a minute, taking a moment to compose yourself.

Turning the handle slowly, you eased your way past the door, the lights now on. Just as you expected, all eyes turned on you, but most turned away quickly, looking back to their friend or their phone. That lifted your nervousness a bit, as you started to head back to your desk, but your teacher had other plans, as she cleared her throat, motioning for you to go and talk to her. You cussed quietly to yourself, could this day get any worse? You dragged your feet over to her desk, biting your now scabbed lip. “So, your project was very good, therefore, I’m going to give you a 90, but I have to dock 10 points for your presentation”, she spoke quietly and sternly. Your face grew hot with her words, tears swelling in your eyes again. She was taking points off for something that you couldn’t control? It pissed you off to say the least. You only looked away from her desk, nodding slightly, knowing better than to open your mouth. “Alright then, you can go and pack up your things”. You walked quickly back to your desk, putting the few things you had taken out back into your backpack, before the bell rang for lunch. Dashing out of the class, you headed straight for the front of the school, more than ready for the day to be over. You’d email your 4th period teacher later on what work you missed out on. On your way, you made sure to text Peter, letting him know everything that happened, and that you wouldn’t be there for lunch.

You only had to wait for a few minutes, as Sam walked through the doors, spotting you quickly and walking over to you. “You alright kid?”. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, jus’ want this day to be done already”. He nodded, following you to the front office, signing everything to excuse you for the day. He kept a close eye on you the whole time, a protective hand placed on your shoulder. Stepping out of the building, he led you to the car where Bucky and Steve awaited. You got into the back seat, Sam sitting in the seat next to you.

“Hey doll, you feeling alright?”, Bucky quizzed, angling his body to look at you. “Yeah, ‘m glad you guys offered to pick me up though. Don’t really think I could’ve lasted another class”, you fidgeted with your hands, you knew your nerves wouldn’t calm for a while, but at least it was manageable now. “We’re always here for you, kid, no matter what”, Sam assured you, patting your shoulder softly. “Mhm, you can always come to us, even if we’re on a mission. Our job can always wait, your well being is more important than anything”, Steve added, looking briefly to you in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for that, you guys are the best”, you smiled bashfully. “No need to thank us, jus’ doing what’s right”, Bucky stated. “So, whatcha feel like doing when we get back?”, Sam asked. You thought for a moment, doing anything social sounded horrible at the moment, and the weighted blanket in your room was calling your name. “How ‘bout a pizza and movie night?”, you inquired, knowing they’d all like the idea, hell the whole team would probably join in. “Sounds good to me”, Steve mused, he always liked time for the team to bond. “Me too”. “Me as well, I’m starving dude”, Sam quipped, causing all of you to chuckle.

It didn’t take long to get back to the tower, all of you heading inside, you going to your room to set your stuff down and to change into something more comfy. After changing, you grabbed your weighted blanket, wrapping it around you, heading back down to the common room. Word must’ve spread fast, cause the whole team was gathered there, everyone sitting in a designated spot, except for Tony, who was currently ordering pizza over the phone. “Hey, there they are, rough day at school?”, Natasha asked, giving you a warm smile. “Yeah, not the greatest”, you huffed out a small laugh. “Well, in that case, you get to choose the first movie draga”, Pietro looked up at you from his spot on the floor. You hummed in response, before placing your decision on one of your favorite comfort movies. Clint started to look it up on the various streaming services, finding it almost instantly. “This one, right?”. You nodded happily, making your way over to sit between Steve and Wanda. “Hey, kiddo, you want a drink? And I’m guessing you want some extra garlic breadsticks too, right?”, Tony asked, holding his phone away from his mouth slightly. “Uhh, I’ll have a (f/d), and duh, of course I want garlic breadsticks”. “Yeah, what type of question is that?”, Pietro chimed in. Tony scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, but continued placing the order.

Wanda opened her arms next to you, allowing you to curl into her side as her arms wrapped softly around you. You stretched your legs out, Steve placed them on his lap, gently rubbing his thumb over your calf. Your nerves were finally winding down, as Clint pressed play on the movie. Wanda kept an arm wrapped around your back, her other hand resting gently on the side of your head, making sure to keep you close. The pizza arrived shortly after the movie had started, and you grabbed as much food as you wanted. You deserved it after the day you had. After the first movie finished, and the team voted on a new movie to watch, you felt yourself begin to drift off. You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect setting, comfort and warmth surrounding you. You didn’t make it far into the second movie before you fell asleep, listening to the sound of Wanda’s heart beating, the events from earlier that day flooding away, leaving you to sleep peacefully, knowing that you were safe and sound.

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rendevousz · 4 years ago

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niagara falls of blood?

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: pretty much what the title is, you on your period

warnings: your moodswings ig

word count: 2765

"rise and shine, y/n!" you hear an annoying voice sing just as the lights flickered on. you grumbled something inaudible, hiding underneath your blanket to shield yourself from the brightness that steve just brought upon your room.

"y/n/n, come on. wakey-wakey!" you groan, feeling super unmotivated to train today. you even felt like punching steve in his perfect-looking face just for waking you up at the crack ass of dawn. this was unusual because you loved jogs before the sun came up and trainings before it hit noon.

"steve, if you don't shut the hell up right now, i'm gonna push you into that lake beside our usual jogging route."

"jeez, y/n, woke up on the wrong side or what?" he teases, finally leaving once he saw you were already sitting up. you groggily walked to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth before changing into your workout clothes.

"no!" you whine when you saw that you were on your period. that's why you were in a crappy mood when steve woke you up. you begrudgingly dressed up after putting on a pad, grabbing a small towel on the way out.

like you did every morning, you were gonna go on a run with steve, bucky and sam. while you loved running, you hated how steve and bucky "cheated" —as you and sam liked to call it— with their super soldier staminas. that was why you loved having sam there. not only was he great company but he was also moral support because you two would always be hilariously overtook by steve and bucky multiple times. but that didn't matter because you two would always be completely immersed in your conversations every time.

but not today though. you already knew today was going to be different. you had gotten a bad start to the day with steve's and your usual morning routine which somehow annoyed you this one time. and having to run around with your cramps definitely didn't help lighten your mood.

"kid, you okay?" sam asks from your right side. you'd been silent throughout the whole run and sam knew something was up when you didn't laugh at his jokes like how you usually would. "just cramps. they're hurting a lot so i'm probably gonna skip training today." you explain and he slowed down his pace causing you to slow down too since you always had to run side by side.

"y/n/n, you should probably stop now if you're having cramps. it might make it worse—i think? i don't know, actually. i don't know how periods work but i know cramps hurt a lot so i think you should stop. yeah, you should stop." his rambling speech made you feel a bit better now knowing he wants you to take care of yourself. "you know what? yeah, i think i'm gonna go. sorry i have to leave you with the two cheaters."

he smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it. you were touched and your mood significantly brightened but before you could reply him, rhythmic footsteps echoed from a distance from behind you two and you knew what was coming.

"on your left."

before steve and bucky could just pass by peacefully like they did the past nine times, you managed to throw a punch to steve's side, effectively slowing him down when he stumbled and then completely stopped. "what gives, y/n?!" bucky then stopped too, wanting to know what was up.

"that's for this morning." you glared at him and he looked at you in confusion, holding onto his side where you punched him. though you were significantly smaller than he was—than any of them were, really—, you could definitely throw a punch. speaking of punch, you gave him another on his other side and he flinched, giving you an incredulous look, one that resembled betrayal.

"and that's for being a cheater." you narrowed your eyes at him. "oN yOuR LeFt." you mocked him, rolling your eyes before ultimately leaving the trio to walk back to the tower. they looked at your fading figure and exchanged looks with each other in confusion. "what...what just happened?"

"y/n's on her period so we gotta be careful with her." sam explained and steve being steve, his cheeks tinted slight pink as the thought slightly embarrassed him.

"period? you mean the niagra falls of blood," bucky states, taking a long sip out his water bottle. sam rolled his eyes at this but nodded anyways. "also, she doesn't want training today so unless any of you have a death wish, don't call her down for anything other than for food, got it?"

"yes, sir."

"got it."

"you do it,"

"i don't want to, you do it."

"can one of you just do it? why don't you guys want to wake y/n up?" nat stopped bucky and steve's little argument as she turned away from the stove for a bit. "you two love waking her up and carrying her down to eat. what happened?"

"womanhood happened," steve mumbled bitterly, rubbing his sides where you hit him this morning. apparently you had hit him hard enough to bruise a little. nat rolled her eyes in realisation. "period?"

"no, no, not period. satan's montly ritual inside of y/n. you should've seen her this morning, nat. it was like she was possessed!" steve exaggerates. "okay, let's not be dramatic here," bucky rolls his eyes at his best friend. steve only looked at him with fear in his eyes and bucky sighs. "fine, i'll do it. but if i don't return, tell sam he still can't have my snacks. no one can have my snacks."

nat only shakes her head before turning back to the stove to finish cooking lunch.

meanwhile, bucky was making his way up to your room. deep down he was scared to face you after your episode in the morning. "y/n/n? doll, it's lunch." he spoke when he entered your room. he melted when he saw you all snuggled up in bed, asleep, hugging your life-sized teddy bear that tony gifted you last christmas.

"doll? time to eat," he whispered, gently shaking you awake. you slowly opened your eyes to see bucky sitting on your bed, trying to wake you up from your nap. "what time is it?" you asked, rubbing your eyes, your lips jutting out subconsciously. bucky internally cooed at how adorable you looked. "it's afternoon, you skipped breakfast so nat wants you to eat lunch." he tells you.

"tell her i'm sleepy," you said, adjusting yourself back under the blanket. "y/n/n, you gotta eat. nat's gonna kill me if i go back down there without you." he shakes you again and you look up at him with you doe eyes. "then don't go back down. cuddle me, jamesie!" you pouted, giving him your best sad puppy look.

he had a brief internal battle with himself before losing and giving in, slipping next to you and hugging you, providing you warmth that even your blanket couldn't provide. bucky knew nat would have his head but how could he say no to that adorable face? and you using his real name? ultimate weakness.

soon, you were back asleep, cuddling up to him. he smiled down at you, loving how peaceful you seemed when you were sleeping. and before he knew it, he too fell asleep.

"what's taking him so long?" nat huffed and steve's jaw dropped slightly, looking at her in worry. "who's telling sam he can't have bucky's snacks?"

"don't be ridiculous, steve. go get them or i'm telling sam he can't have your snacks too." steve sighs, getting up from the barstool and making his way up to your room.

safe to say he was expecting pretty much anything but the sight of you and bucky asleep, cuddled up to each other. steve's lips jutted out and he cooed at you both. he snapped a quick picture before approaching you two, sitting on your bed beside your sleeping figure.

"y/n/n? sweetie, you need to eat." he says softly as he shook you awake. the shaking seemed to wake bucky up too and when your eyes fluttered open, steve smiled down at you. "bubba? it's lunch," he looks over at bucky in disappointment for having fallen asleep when he had a task. bucky only shrugs his shoulders as if saying 'hey man, i had no choice'.

"stevie?" you groaned out and he smiled. "come on, let's go have lunch, nat is waiting downstairs." he tries to get you to sit up but you resist. "come sleep, stevie," you pulled the same trick you did with bucky and it's no surprise the blond super-soldier fell for it too. everyone had a soft spot for you.

steve laid next to you and you're then sandwiched between two super-soldiers, already falling back asleep in just seconds.

"you know nat's gonna kill us, right buck?"

"then let her try. we can use y/n/n to get out of it. i mean, can you even recall the last time anyone said no to that adorable face?"

"sam says no to her sometimes."

"yeah but he always ends up feeling bad so,"

"okay yeah, you're right."

"that's exactly why we're stuck in this situation, right dear ol' stevie? so i say we just sleep and if nat tries to scold us, we'll technically be under y/n/n's protection because nat won't scream in our faces in front of her."

"good call. night, buck."

"night, steve."

"i can't believe i sent two super-soldier idiots to go wake up y/n on her period. i didn't think they meant it literally when they were afraid they weren't gonna come back." nat paces around the kitchen and wanda watches in amusement. it had been almost a whole hour since bucky was sent to get you and thirty minutes since steve was sent to do so too and both men hadn't returned with you for lunch.

"do you really think y/n/n is having a temper tantrum or something and those idiots are caught in the middle of it?" nat asks and wanda shook her head. "i doubt. y/n can get a little cranky but only if provoked. y/n on her period is overall a sweetheart like she always is. maybe steve was being annoying this morning. i mean, he always is annoying during morning jogs because he always has to announce when he overtakes us." wanda rolls her eyes at the fact.

"okay, you know what? come with me to get them. i mean with our joint forces, there's no way we're going to get sucked into whatever those idiots did. let's go,"

nat didn't give the younger woman a chance to reply before she's storming upstairs to your room and wanda had no choice but to rush along.

"well? are we going to wake them up or what?" wanda asks nat, not taking her eyes off the adorable sight she was met with right as she entered your room.

"i want to get mad at steve and bucky for not waking her up because she hasn't eaten yet but somehow i can't." nat states, looking like she's having an existential crisis.

"well, no lunch for these three, i guess. they better have dinner though or i'm actually going to get mad. let's go, wands." nat closes your door, but not before snapping a pic of you three cuddled up and sending it to the group chat.

nat: [attached photo]

peter: OMG SHE LOOKS SO TINY AND ADORABLE SQUISHED IN BETWEEN THOSE TWO 🥺🥺🥺

tony: IS THAT SAFE? CAN MY BABY EVEN BREATHE PROPERLY?????? NAT WHY ARE YOU JUST LETTING IT HAPPEN

wanda: stark, she's fine

thor: aw, i hope lady y/n gets all the rest she needs. she looks peaceful 🥰

clint: wait no fair i wanna cuddle her too 🥺😭

sam: dang it does this mean i still can't have bucky's snacks

bucky: stay away from my snacks.

"look who finally decided to show." you hear tony tease when you finally came down to dinner.

after waking up an hour prior, you woke up the two super-soldiers sandwiching you by pushing them off your bed. they couldn't even be mad at you when you had burst out in contagious laughter at your own stunt, before leaving to let you wash up.

"how are you feeling, sweetie?" bruce asks you as you sat in between him and tony on the dining table. "i'm good, bruce, why do you ask?"

"we've been hearin' a lot about you today, cupcake." tony winks at you before continuing to eat his food. you pout at him. "bad things?"

"no, no, no, not bad things, never bad things. you're the sweetest little cupcake and everyone loves you. now eat your food," tony pretends to make an angry face at you and you listen to him, smiling as you do so.

after dinner, you decided to lounge in the common room for a bit to watch tv and thor, clint, wanda and sam decide to join you.

"what are we watching?" sam asks as he plops down next to you on the couch. "i don't know, i'm kinda in the mood to watch my little pony." you quipped happily. "my little pony? that stupid ponies cartoon where the purple unicorn has magic and becomes a princess?"

"it's not stupid," you muttered under your breath, suddenly getting upset that he thought my little pony was stupid. "if you guys don't want to watch, i guess we can watch whatever you want." you told the rest who were already seated, a sad expression on your face.

"bubs! of course we want to watch it! right, sam?" wanda glares at sam as she asked him through gritted teeth. "y–yes! yes, we'll watch my little pony!" he replies quickly. "okay!" you cheer, leaning back against the couch as you turned the show on.

after an episode was done, you seemed to have gotten the others hooked on it because they asked for another episode. well, except for sam because he decided one episode was enough and it was time to sleep so he left.

"okay," you giggled, happy that they liked the show. "but i'm going to go get my snacks first." you walked to the kitchen to quickly get your bag of pretzels from the pantry. you were pretty sure it was the period moodswings that were causing your emotions to be all over the place because you cried. you cried because you were so excited to go get your snacks, only to find that it had been stolen.

you trudged back into the living room with a tear-stained face and wanda immediately stands up. "bubs, what's wrong?" she held both your shoulders as she looked down at you. you hiccup. "i–i think pete took my pretzel sticks." you pouted to try keep the incoming tears at bay but they managed to drop anyways.

"i'll kill him," clint stands up, hands held out in a fighting stance. "how dare he steal y/n/n's snacks." wanda rolls her eyes at his antics and gives him a look that tells him to back down.

"lady y/n," thor calls from his spot on the couch. you turn to him. "i have a stash of poptarts if you want?" he offered and as kind as his intentions were, you only wanted your pretzel sticks. you dropped down to the floor, staring silently into nothing.

"y/n," clint places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to get up but you didn't. you looked up at him with a small pout and glossy eyes and he cracked. "alright, thor, come with me to the grocery store. we're getting y/n/n's snacks,"

thor immediately gets up, following clint out the door. you couldn't believe that the avengers' own archer and god of thunder were willing to go out just to buy you snacks.

twenty minutes later, they came back with bags of different snacks but most importantly, your pretzel sticks. you ran to them, giving them the biggest hug you could give, prompting chuckles and hair ruffles from them. "anything for you, kiddo."

despite having just gotten your snack, you fell asleep ten minutes into the next episode and thor goes to carry you back to your room. he sets you down gently on your bed, pulling your blanket up so that you were warm.

"sleep well, lady y/n." he kisses the side of your head before leaving. and sleep well you did because you had an awesome family take care of you.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #bucky barnes x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #thor odinson x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader

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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

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Game of Thrones - Love Letter and Handwriting Headcanons

In this preference, you'll be writing to: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Eddison Tollett, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Arianne Martell

my own silly fanfic made me think of this bc there’s letter writing later on in that. whee!

Ned Stark

His handwriting is neat, evenly spaced and fairly plain. It’s easily readable, which is the point - he knows not everyone is well-versed in letters and he tries to make it easier. Ned typical sends ravens, only writing a full letter for when he has to give instructions or relay something important. He has a formal Stark wax seal for this… and yes, he uses that same formal seal when he sends something to you. The more you exchange letters, the more relaxed he clearly becomes in writing. He knows he isn’t romantic or poetic by any means, but he hopes his affection for you comes across.

Robb Stark

Goodness knows he’s had endless lessons on writing properly and expressing the right words, but Robb just has no interest in it. His handwriting is perfectly legible but obviously hastily written, and he doesn’t care if there’s a few smudges or the paper gets dirty. When he’s writing to you, he’ll try to be neater… but sometimes he’s just got so much to say, and he’s so eager to send it, he doesn’t even notice the mess. Robb never thought he’d anticipate letters, especially romantic ones, but he loves receiving things from you. If you live far away, he feels the distance strongly and starts to rely on your letters to feel more connected to you.

Sansa Stark

As expected, her penmanship is pretty and neat. If she's in a good mood she'll add little flourishes here and there, but normally she's a bit embarrassed to do it. It feels childish to do that now. When she finds a nice stationary, she saves it until she writes to you. Her envelopes have the usual Stark direwolf with some wildflowers along the border. Honest and romantic words used to come easy to her, but now she’s more subdued. She’ll include pretty poetry she heard and wanted to share with you.

Jon Snow

His writing would be neater if he just slowed down, but he’s often in haste, especially once he becomes Lord Commander. He never cared about the proper penmanship or address because who would a bastard write to? Really, it’s lucky he was taught letters at all. He’d do his best to write neater for you, but the words keep escaping him - It’s hard enough to express how he feels in person, writing it isn’t any easier, no matter what Sam says. Jon always responds if you write to him, even if he’s blushing and feeling stupid the whole time.

Benjen Stark

He’s perfectly capable of writing neatly, but Benjen rarely bothers to. He jots down what he needs, though he at least has to make it legible - there’s only so many men that know their letters at the Wall, and Benjen has to keep his orders neat. When you pass him a secret letter, he’s grinning like a boy. He thinks it’s adorable that you went through the effort of finding supplies and writing something so sweet. He’ll ask to read it in front of you, but if you make him do it in secret, he’ll want to run and find you as soon as he’s done. He’d fold it up tight and keep it in a safe pouch tied to his belt.

Jory Cassel

His handwriting is pretty messy. Jory was never bothered by it until he had to write you something. Oh no. Wasn't there a proper way to address you? What if it was too personal, or too standoffish? Poor Jory overthinks his letters unless you two write with frequency. His handwriting won't get better, but he's more comfortable writing sweet things. He likes to keep his envelopes and papers plain so no one suspects anything, which is a good habit if you’re dating in secret, but a silly once if you’re married.

Eddison Tollett

He jokes it’s a small miracle that he knows his letters, poor as his family was. He likes to pretend he doesn’t, just so the higher ups on the Wall won’t give him extra duties like they did Sam. Reading never interested him, and he had no one to write to, so it’s just not something he thinks about. When you slip him a letter, he just stares at it dumbly for a minute. Once Edd has a chance to open it up, he’s a little taken aback. What… should he do? Should he talk to you? Respond to it? He’s never had such a nice gesture given to him, never had anyone write such nice things to him (has he even received a letter before??). So the next time to meet him, he still has a stupefied look on his face. And here he was thinking nothing on the Wall could surprise him anymore..

Yara Greyjoy

She was taught writing and reading by her nuncle - because the Gods know her father hardly bothered - so she actually has fond memories of both, even if she hardly does it. Yara would be very curious by anything you sent. Was something wrong? If it smelled of perfume or had a pretty stationary, she’d snort… but once she read the contents, she’d just grin and laugh. If the letter is more romantic, she finds it silly, but so like you. Very endearing. If it’s more saucy and risque, well … she’s going to read this in private and take her time.

Daenerys Targaryen

Her handwriting wasn’t as neat as it could’ve been, given her upbringing. It’s a point of embarrassment, so Dany practices pretty lettering and uses interesting inks she’s found around the markets. It’s a bit relaxing, though when she’s writing something official as Khaleesi and Queen, she makes sure it’s perfect. She’s pleasantly surprised when you write her something - has she ever actually received something this sweet before? She’ll write you back with a smile on her face, and she likes any chance to use that fancy Targaryen seal. Dany will still love to receive and send letters even if you both are staying in a palace together. It’s just one of many romantic gestures she thought she’d never enjoy.

Jorah Mormont

Jorah's handwriting is nice, but he usually writes in haste, so several letters end up smudged. He doesn't like to waste paper and start over. Jorah really can’t believe that you’d send him something romantic and sweet; he tries to hide his grin and blush, but he’ll wear it the whole time he’s reading. When he's writing something really sweet to you, it gets him flustered and happy, so whole words end up smudged. He doesn't notice the ink on his hand until he's already put the letter in the envelope. He keeps whatever you’ve sent him in a protective leather book so they can’t get damaged.

Missandei

She has lovely handwriting in many languages, as she was taught. The neatness of the lines and letters really is impressive. When she's writing something sweet to you, she pauses and struggles with the words for a while. Missandei always has the sweetest, most thoughtful letters - more sentimental than romantic. Her letters are punctuated with citrus smelling paper and a modestly decorated envelope.

Grey Worm

He’s only recently learned to read, and writing is still a struggle - he’d be very intimidated at the idea of writing something to you. When you give him something to read for practice, it takes Grey Worm a few minutes before he realizes it’s something you wrote. And it’s for him! And about him! He’s very happy but also very flustered. It takes him longer to get through it, but he can’t stop smiling all day once he’s done. He aspires to write something just as nice, once he’s practiced more. He’d keep your letters in a safe place, and wouldn’t want anyone else to see them.

Tywin Lannister

His penmanship is near perfect, which you expected. It’s always written in a stark black ink on fine, almost marbled paper that has an equally officially looking gold Lannister seal on the envelope. People whisper it’s liquid gold that seals it, but you know better. Tywin’s letters are for business only, so he doesn’t expect you to send him anything romantic… He wouldn’t know what to do with it, besides read it with some amusement and tuck it away for later. You might think he never read it, until he’ll tease you by quoting it weeks later.

Tyrion Lannister

His handwriting is elegant and flawless, as it was meant to be. When Tyrion’s tired he’ll smudge here and there, and depending on how important the letter is, he’ll start over entirely. When he receives your first letter, he’s surprised by the pretty stationary and envelope - this is for him? - and the contents are even better. Tyrion might have a small mental shutdown if you write him something romantic and kind. He’ll re-read it over and over and be distracted through much of the day. This is really for him? He has to respond, of course, and he’ll do it while his emotions are high. For once he doesn’t think on carefully crafted words, he writes what he feels and picks a more subtle stationary (no giant Lannister seals) so attention isn’t drawn to you.

Jaime Lannister

Gods, he hates writing. Just sitting down to write a report is bad enough, but when it's something important? When it's a response to something lovely you wrote? He struggles. The letters start moving around like they used to, he remembers those awful lessons with his father and he's just put off by the whole thing. Seeing you in person is far better. Jaime's handwriting is neat, because it had to be, though when he's upset he'll write a few letters backwards.

Sandor Clegane

It's a mess. Really, the fact his words are readable is a miracle. 'Chicken scratch' is a generous term, though his name is passable. If you wrote him a letter, he'd have no idea what to do with it, let alone how to respond. Sandor doesn't do sentiment like that; seeing you in person can be conflicting and confusing enough. He'd probably rip it up and burn it after drinking too much (and immediately regret that in the morning).

Bronn

He's barely literate, and not a man of flowery words anyway, so don't respect a response. If anything he'd hand the letter to Tyrion and ask him to read it - only for it to be handed back once Tyrion realized it was very personal and... revealing. Bronn doesn't worry about a response or consider you getting upset about it. If you are, he has ways to make up for it.

Petyr Baelish

You expected him to have neat penmanship, but you didn't expect it to be this nice. And of course, his way with words shows in his letters, but it's even better. You might even blush and have to excuse yourself to read it in private. Petyr loves to write on fancy paper with fancier envelopes that have his sigil, but if they're meant to be secret, the only indicator is a little symbol on the envelope's seal. He delights in anything you send him, especially if he can smell your perfume on it.

Stannis Baratheon

Stannis writes very neat letters with equally impossibly neat rows. He has a habit of gripping his quill too tight, but his letters are concise so his hand doesn’t hurt. While he usually writes quickly because he knows what to say, when he writes to you, he pauses far too often. Sometimes ink drips on the paper while he’s thinking, sometimes he misspells a word he’s never gotten wrong before. It takes a long time, especially if he’s responding to something that was very sweet and romantic. His first letters were very awkward and halting, but they’ve steadily improved. Mostly.

Davos Seaworth

You were the one who helped him with writing, after helping him read as well. Davos isn’t happy with his penmanship, but he didn’t think he’d make it this far, so he keeps trying when he has time. It’s messy but legible enough. Davos is always pleasantly surprised when you write to him; he loves that you took the time to send something so sweet. It’s hard for him to reply efficiently, or to put what he’s thinking into words, so sometimes he’ll wait for you to get back instead. He would use your letters to practice reading… but it gets him terribly flustered to read the same kind things over and over again.

Margaery Tyrell

She doesn't mind taking the extra time to make her letters extra beautiful, to press dried flower petals and put them in the envelope, to look through dozens of stationary to find one that's just right for her mood. For most people, they're lucky to get one of these little rituals - you get all of them. She'd be delighted if you took extra care in your letters, too, and naturally she keeps whatever you send her in a special box (that absolutely no one will find).

Brynden Tully

It's no surprise that his handwriting is simple and gets the job done. His brother used to complain that he wrote like a soldier, not a lord, and Brynden is proud of that. He won't wax poetic to you, but he will plainly state that he misses you and he always writes back promptly. Brynden feels bad that his letters take so long to arrive, so he'll make them longer with funny anecdotes and things he's heard from travellers. He folds his letter a few times and wraps it in a protective parchment, just in case rain comes or some idiot drops it.

Edmure Tully

He writes well enough, with neat letters that are jotted down in haste. Edmure almost never stays and lingers on words and sentences, he just writes what comes to mind and moves on. He’s shocked in a good way when you write something to him - you missed him that much? Enough to write all this? He re-reads it several times, and keeps whatever you send him after that. He’ll eagerly write back, and even if it’s silly and awkwardly worded, you can feel the love in every letter. His letters are often a bit crumpled and are plain except for the Tully seal.

Brienne of Tarth

It might surprise some that she has a lady's penmanship. It was never something Brienne had trouble learning, though she often accidentally broke the quill by holding too hard. Though she cherishes the kind things you send her (and she blushes terribly as she reads them), she struggles to send something in return. Her words fail her and she feels embarrassed for trying, but she does try. Seeing you in person is so much easier, though. She likes to keep your letters in a safe place and read them when she's feeling down.

Ramsay Bolton

The letters are messy, but legible enough. The real issue is all the stains on the paper, usually a combination of mud, blood or water. He has little care for the proper way to write or address others; Roose may have given him the bare minimum and not expected him to actually use it. Ramsay is very surprised and amused by anything you send him, though. He considers writing something back, but decides to wait or just go and see you directly. That’s far more fun.

Roose Bolton

His handwriting is functional and his words are to the point. There's nothing outstanding about the letter or its contents, save for a blood-red Bolton seal on the envelope. Roose rarely sends full letters, though; it's a quick Raven or nothing. Though he won't mind anything you send… he'll be very pleased with how personal they become, and he still won't send anything back right away, if he does at all. Better to keep you in anticipation.

Oberyn Martell

Oberyn has a stylish flourish to his letters that’s unique to him. If that didn’t give it away, the pretty gold ink or embellished envelope will. Often it has the spear as a seal, sometimes it’s some interesting and strange stamp he picked up from his travels. There’s always a slight scent to his letters, and you can’t always place it. The actual words themselves are often scandalous and teasing, though he’s sent plenty of heartfelt things, especially if you enjoy it. He’s no poet, but he’s honest and romantic. Oberyn much prefers to see you in person, but he likes to receive sweet things and re-read them.

Arianne Martell

Her handwriting is beautifully elegant, and she loves getting ahold of pretty colored inks and papers. Her letters straddle a fine line between romantic and a little scandalous, and she likes to use pet names, as if you both are writing in secret. Her envelopes have a pleasant smell, and the official Martell seal. If she wants her letter to be sent especially fast, she’ll take her father’s seal. She keeps anything you send her in a pretty, hand carved wooden box with a lock and key.

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wearywinchester · 4 years ago

Text

Stubborn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Even though you’re just as stubborn as Dean, you can never stay mad at each other.

Word Count: 3.8k

Requested by @flamencodiva: “You did what?”

Warnings: injury, blood, little bit of arguing, fluff, kissing

Dean Winchester

Fiercely protective of those he loves without a second thought on the matter. In fact, you’re starting to think there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe, you knew there wasn’t. He’d go to the very ends of the earth if it meant you’d be okay, if it meant you were safe. He’d stop at nothing to keep it that way no matter what that meant for his fate. He was selfless and you knew that to be true for as long as you can remember.

With such traits came with the stubbornness should you try and do the same, came with hard stares and furrowed brows. It brought with it his reluctance to let you stray too far on a hunt; if he had it his way, you wouldn’t tag along on hunts at all. But Dean Winchester met his match when it came to you. Equally as stubborn, casting him the same narrowed stares and furrowed brows, the same determination to look out for him just as much as he did you.

It brought on a great deal of huffs and puffs, and that certainly hadn’t changed now.

When he’d caught sight of the fact that you’d been injured on a hunt he didn’t even want you on in the first place, he didn’t take too well to that. Not that you were expecting him to, nor would he ever. You had dreaded the very moment when he’d see the scarlet smeared across your cheek, knew for a fact that he’d be anything but thrilled to see you hurt no matter what it was. And you were right.

He’d pushed himself off the Impala, releasing his lip from between his teeth where he’d been biting it out of nervous habit. He came to you the moment he saw the cut grazing your cheek and the way you held your side cautiously, your face twisted partly in discomfort and partly to brace yourself for what was to come next. But he came to you immediately— always did and he always would. Yet the words that came to follow, the attitude, that was always something you could count on with all the certainty in the world. It was Dean.

The very first thing that came out of his mouth was a question of if you were okay, that was on the forefront of his mind as he’d made his way to you and Sam with quick strides. He was careful when he peeled back the bottom of your shirt, patchy blotches of crimson just barely staining through the soft cotton material to reveal a less than ideal scratch. Not deep enough to need stitches but enough for him to tense his jaw with worry. When his eyes fell on you, brow raised in anticipation of an answer, you had simply nodded in return.

“That was really stupid,” he muttered once he knew full well you’d be okay.

You rolled your eyes.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“You’re bleeding, Y/n. And it could’ve been way worse than that, you know,” he said, voice raising a bit more than it was.

“Well it’s not,” you counter, narrowing your eyes only briefly before the action had pulled at the cut on your cheek that you’d seemed to have forgotten. Your wince, no matter how subtle, had only proved his point and only made you angrier.

“I told you to stay back on this one.”

“Well, I didn’t!”

“If you’re gonna fight with me, sweetheart, at least change up your comebacks.”

“I’ll do what I want,” you say, looking away from him only briefly to gather yourself, a huff puffing out from your nose.

You’ll do what you want.

That was the problem. You always did what you wanted, when you wanted to. It was something he loved about you more than he’d admit because it only brought with it fear. He admired your independence, your ability to handle things yourself, your stubbornness when someone tries to stop you from doing anything but that. He loved it and he hated it because he knew it all too well. It was reckless and dangerous to go off and do that on your own the way you did.

“I’ll be fine till we make it back to Bobby’s. I can patch myself up there,” you mumble, voice softer than moments ago.

He bit his tongue then, jaw tense and eyes narrowed down at you to meet an equally frustrated stare. As much as he loved how stubborn you were, as much as he admired your ability to hold your own and refuse to back down—those qualities about you had been working against him in that moment, had been pushing his buttons because now was not the time to be so stubborn.

You were hurt.

He wanted to tell you just how upset it made him that you’d gotten hurt, how guilty it made him feel that it happened on his watch because he felt it was his responsibility to protect you. He always felt that way even when he’d just been your best friend who was too oblivious to see you were the love of his life. He wanted to tell you how angry it’d made him that you went ahead and tagged along on that hunt even when he told you not to get involved. But there was no stopping you—you did what you wanted whenever you wanted and that’s one of the things he loved about you.

Though in that very moment he wished you would have listened just that once.

Even with everything running through his mind in a heap of worry and frustration, he’d left it at a tense jaw and a hard gaze but that had only lasted all of ten seconds with the way you looked at him. The argument that had been sitting on his tongue, ready to be spoken in harsh words and loud tones had melted away.

He was ready to tell you just how ridiculous you were to not let him patch you up right then and there, for thinking he’d let you do it yourself. But he didn’t. Instead, he purses his lips and clears his throat, offering a barely there not before moving around you to get in the car. He knew full well he wouldn’t let you tend to your own wounds, he would never let you do that no matter how angry he might be. But he decided not to say any more until you got back, didn’t want to argue any more than you already did.

That was where he left it the entirety of the drive back. No classic rock playing on the radio for a good while until Sam had decided the tension was far too unbearable for things to be absolutely silent. It was spent with you sulking in the backseat, your brows furrowed and the inside of your cheek between your teeth in your attempt to will away angry tears and stave off how much you wanted to give into the fact that your wounds hurt a little more than you let on.

His knuckles were white with how he’d gripped the wheel, his gaze flickering from the road ahead to the rear view in a constant pattern of glances just to see if you’re okay. And each and every time he laid eyes on your frown, at the crease between your brows all telling of your emotions— it made his stomach twist and churn.

When you got back to the house you were quick to try and disappear off to the bathroom, entering the house first as you rushed past a confused Bobby Singer without a greeting, Dean hot on your heels with just as much determination leaving the man to be doubly confused at the sight. It’s when he turns to Sam that he gets a little bit of an answer, the younger Winchester offering a shrug and an awkward smile at the ever present tension in the air.

“Will you slow down?” Dean asks when you pull the first aid kit from under that bathroom sink. You’re moments away from closing the door when he beats you to it, hand wrapping around the edge of the wood and boot stepping in the way of its closing. “I’m patching you up.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Your gaze shifts to him and your jaw tenses at his insistent tone, he’s got a stare to rival yours and you knew there was no changing his mind on this no matter how tough you made yourself out to be.

“De,” you exhale, your initial anger beginning to fade some but just that. “Fine.”

With a huff and an eye roll you hop up on the counter, the smile on his lips less than sincere and more so that of a teasing act in favor of getting his way before a softer look falls over his expression. One that was still a ready display of his anger but not enough for you to think that he hadn’t cared, that he wasn’t clouded with worry.

That was one thing he was terrible at—hiding his emotions. He could bite back his words and stuff them down, bottle them up for a good long while. He could leave them there to simmer in the back of his mind with the help of some beer and whiskey until it all eventually boiled over in a show of anger and frustration. But he was bad at hiding the very emotions he felt.

You could see it with the way the crease between his eyebrows hadn’t left since you insisted on going on that hunt. You could see it with the way the tension remained in his jaw, intensifying each and every time he saw the scratch on your cheek or the ruby stains on your shirt. His lips will purse till those dimples show in the corners of his mouth, and his grip will tighten on anything he touches. Dean Winchester was a terrible actor.

He sifted through the old plastic kit, pulling the peroxide from the cabinet as he grabbed more than enough cotton pads and a few too many bandages from their rightful spots. He laid everything out on the counter, soaking a pad in the clear liquid before his gaze returned to you.

“This’ll hurt a little,” he mumbled, his other hand settling on your cheek.

“Can’t hurt more than this.”

He wasn’t happy with your words, that much was obvious, the look on his face telling you just how much before his expression softened. He brushed the material over the wound, the sting you knew all too well burning atop the fresh scratch as the peroxide bubbled over the irritated area. You moved back from him only slightly, his hand on your cheek keeping you from straying too far. He was patient, though, angry with the fact that you were hurt to begin with but patient.

“He really got you good,” he murmurs, gentle as he continues to wipe away the blotches of crimson sitting smeared around the mark adorning your cheek. You could hear the frustration in his voice despite the softness of his words, the pad of his thumb swiping lightly over your skin.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, less defensive than the last time you’d said it but it hadn’t comforted him in that moment.

“Would you cool it with the tough guy act, sweetheart?” He huffs, dropping his hand from your face and tossing the dirtied cotton pad in the trash.

A few moments passed before he sighed, focusing his attention on opening a bandage to let his anger simmer down some more. He crinkled the wrapper in his hand and tossed it in the small garbage can, his eyes moving back to you. You give him a half smile then, the corner of your mouth quirking up only slightly as you breathe out a sigh of your own through your nose.

The simple action seemed to cool him off as his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and you even caught a glimpse of a hint of a smile. One that faded just as quickly as it’d come as he pressed the small bandage over your cheek. You rest your hand over his, the action stilling the thoughts that had been swirling around in his mind for a few moments. It was then that he looked at you again, the close proximity having given you a flurry of butterflies in your stomach as if you hadn’t already kissed the Winchester a thousand times over. But you were sure that was a feeling that would never go away.

You smile then, one he sees immediately as he flashes you an inquiring look with a simple raise of his eyebrow.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, you know,” you say, paired with a tilted of your head and your smile widening, hand squeezing his.

You barely got the words out before he rolled his eyes, turning his head away from you in favor of hiding his half smile, an effort that hadn’t worked quite as well as he’d hoped but he tried his best anyway. He even shook his head in an attempt to stave it off, running a hand over his face.

“You’re a pain, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

He gave in and smiled then, head still shaking as he moved onto the scratch across your hip. He was just as gentle as the first time he peeled back your shirt, revealing a similar situation as the one he’d just tended to and he heaved another sigh that was more than telling of just how he’d felt about it. If it was possible, you were quite sure that steam would be coming out of his ears in that very moment, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin around the scratch as he huffed through flared nostrils.

“I’m okay, Dean, it’s okay,” you remind him, trying your best to make him realize that though you know he won’t.

“It’s not, Y/n. Quit sayin’ that,” he grumbles, “it could’ve been worse out there.”

“You said that already,” you sigh, and he’s not amused but he refuses to admit the way he feels the slightest bit better at the nonchalance of your attitude. It calms him and stresses him all the same to be perfectly honest, but he’ll keep the former a secret for the time being.

“Yeah yeah,” he mumbles quietly.

He says nothing more as he works, gentle as ever as he cleans everything the best he can. You said you were okay but he notices each time you tense up, can see when you clench your fist or suck in a sharp breath no matter how hard you try and hide it. But a simple soft glance your way, a gentle swipe of his thumb over your skin was enough to make it all the more better each of those times.

After another minute or two passes things become more bearable than they had been, and you were beginning to become less focused on the pain that ebbed away and more on the man tending to your wounds. He’s got more than enough attitude for one person, quick wit and sarcasm falling from his lips even in the scariest of moments. His words could be venomous to those he’s not too wild about, but he can also be one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known all the same.

You couldn’t help the smile trying so desperately to show, one he’d noticed the moment he pulled his gaze to you.

“What?” He asked curiously before looking down once more.

“Nothing,” you say, spotting a small grin forming as he shook his head. It was not nothing and he knew it.

But that smile soon came back to tug at the corners of your mouth, a soft laugh falling past your lips that you knew you couldn’t help even if you had tried to. You were done stifling it at this point.

“Remember that time I baited that werewolf?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek once more in an effort to stifle your smile.

He paused what he was doing, gaze lifting to meet yours as the crease between his brows deepened at the mere thought of it. His palms rested on either side of you atop the counter for a moment, lips pursed. “You mean that ridiculously stupid thing you did on that hunt? How could I forget.”

You give up on fighting your widening smile completely now, huffing out another soft laugh instead as you shook your head at his grumpy words. “I did it to save you, you know.” He laughs softly, a bittersweet one at that. “I did it today too.”

He barely finished bandaging your hip when his stare returned to you, narrowed with bits of anger seeping in more and more with each passing second.

“You did what?”

You give him a knowing look, one he’s come to know all too well. He wanted to be in disbelief, wanted to think you wouldn’t put yourself in danger just for the sake of saving him. He didn’t feel he was worth it, not enough for you to wind up with even so much as a scratch as a result. But all you do is shrug, you shrug and you give him that smile that makes him weak in the knees every time you grace him with it. That smile that makes even his angriest moments melt away in a single second. That smile that’s getting him to soften his frown and lighten the heaviness of his glare just by the simple sweetness of it even if he wanted to hold onto that anger so you know just how much he disagreed with what you did. But he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t need to save me sweetheart, trust me you don’t,” he says, averting his gaze as he busies himself with packing up the first aid kit just as it was before.

“You’re not always the quick witted hunter you make yourself out to be, you know. Somebody’s got to do it,” you counter, your tone nothing but light and teasing as your words grab his attention just as quickly as ever.

“Very funny. I meant what I said,” he grumbles, fidgeting with the bandage on your hip before picking at the loose string dangling from the hem of your shirt.

“So did I,” you say, head tilted and smile bright as you brushed the hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Yeah, you’re a pain.”

You puff out a sigh as your smile stays, more sincere than the teasing grin you once held mere seconds ago. The grumpy look on his face became more amused, unable to stay too angry when you keep looking at him the way you do. The way you always do and he always knows just how soft it makes him, because if there’s anyone in this world that can make him feel butterflies of all things, that can even slightly sway him with even so much as a glance in his direction—it’s you. It’s always you.

You couldn’t stay mad at each other for very long.

You reached up and pressed your hand to his jaw softly, the more than obvious tension in it melting away under your touch. Those little dimples by the very corners of his lips were still very much there, though his humor was still shining through all the same. You could see each and every freckle that dotted along his nose and cheeks at this proximity, could see the ones that were hidden by his lashes and the ones that splayed all the way over to his ears. Each one was a different size and each one even cuter than the last, all complimented by the pale pink shade in his cheeks from the anger that once had him so burned up that day.

“You’re not the only one that gets to save the ones you love, De,” you say softly, an even softer smile on your lips to go with it.

He sighed at your words, an eye roll soon after as he pulled your hand from his face and held it in his own. You could tell he disagreed with that, you knew he would, because the thought of someone he’d cared about putting their life on the line just for the sake of saving him wasn’t one that sat well with him. Especially when that person is you.

“You keep sayin’ that and I keep hating it,” he murmurs, and you laugh quietly, the action causing the corner of his mouth to quirk up.

“And I’ll keep saying it.”

He laughed then, soft as it puffs warmly against your lips. He knows there’s no convincing you otherwise, there was no changing your mind on the subject just the same as there was no changing his. You were tough as nails and he could argue till he was blue in the face but there was no chance you’d miss an opportunity to protect him just as much as he does you whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t.

He leans in a little closer, so much so his lips brush over yours with each word he speaks in that moment. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I think I know someone who just might be worse than I am,” you say, his hum sounding mere centimeters from your lips as cue to keep talking as if he hadn’t known just who it was you were talking about. “You see, he’s got these pretty green eyes and he’s devilishly handsome,” you start, his smile widening. “But he’s got a mouth on him, like seriously, he just might be one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever—”

“Okay, okay c’mere,” he sighs, amusement woven around his words as he quiets you.

His lips meld with yours and cut the rest of your own words short in favor of your affection, his smile pressing into your lips and lingering there as he makes no effort to stray too far from you. His hands come up to settle on your cheeks again, the pads of his thumbs brushing lightly over your skin in the sweetest of touches as he kisses you once more before his hands fall down your arms to rest over top of your hands.

“Try and be a little more careful, sweetheart?” He asks softly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. In other words, I love you.

You simply nod, smile sweet as your forehead rests against his. It’s not his ideal answer, because ideally, he didn’t want you in danger at all. Ideally, he’d rather you stay back when it comes to hunts. But he knows you wouldn’t go for that idea, and he knows he’s got to deal with that though he’ll always put up that fight even though he knows he won’t ever win. You’re stubborn and he loves you.

He’s got you.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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qapsiel · 1 month ago

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CASTIEL CRASHES INTO SOME HAY BALES, which aren't as soft as they look but are still better than the wall. He's going to feel this tomorrow and the following week. Nonetheless, Castiel quickly climbs back to his feet, teeth clenched, and grabs the machete he had dropped when the vampire shoved him off. He hates this. Why are they still taking jobs when this part should be over? What's the meaning of retirement when you still go out to hunt monsters? He can understand that it feels personal when it happens two towns over, but there's a network of hunters now. They could have asked someone else to take care of this nest.

Castiel lashes out and hits the vampire's hand. She drops her knife, then hisses at him like a rabid cat before she turns and climbs up the ladder to the hayloft. Castiel dashes after her, breathing hard. Once he has backed her into a corner, it's easy to finish her off. After wiping the dark blood off on some hay bales, Castiel climbs back down. The fight is over here, too.

Dean is crying.

Why is Dean crying?

"Dean?" he tries, "Sam?" But Sam only says something about 911 and gestures wildly with his hands before he tries to find a signal on his phone, and Castiel doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. Not even when his eyes find the piece of broken off rebar near the ceiling and then hone in on the way Dean seems to be stuck to the beam. How crimson blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

Tragically enough, it's the love you that tells him what's happening. Dean wouldn't just say it like that on a job. He wouldn't unless it's—

"No," Castiel breathes, hands coming up to cradle Dean's face. "No, no, no, Dean. You can't. You mustn't. It will be alright. Sam's getting help. You just have to fight a little longer, alright? Just a bit longer." His thumb tries to wipe the blood away. His sight is swimming. The stench of coppery blood is overwhelming. "Just hold on, okay? Please. This isn't the end, Dean. It isn't. You survived worse, right? Just hold on a little longer, Dean, please."

You can't leave me here alone. What will I do with the roadhouse? With Miracle? I don't want the bar, I don't want the dog, I just want you. The blood doesn't stop. It's a steady trickle out of Dean's mouth, no matter how often Castiel wipes it away. Panic grips his insides because he can feel how weak Dean becomes under his hands. How the life force is slowly dripping out bit by bit. And it's on instinct that Castiel reaches for Dean's chest, palm pressed to his sternum, and tries to shove some grace into him to heal that wound. He has done it countless times, hasn't he? He could always heal Dean. But nothing happens now, no matter how hard Castiel tries to reach for a grace that was torn out in exchange for his freedom.

"Help will be here soon, I promise. They'll fix you right up," Castiel whispers, choking on his own words as he tries and tries to heal Dean. Please, Jack, he silently prays as despair grips his chest tight. He can't lose Dean. Not now, not like this. Haven't they just started to live a life? The roadhouse is almost finished. Their southern neighbors invited them for coffee this Sunday. Patsy promised to bake Dean apple pie. They are supposed to live. "Jack, please," Castiel whispers. His eyes are spilling over now. "Please, please, don't let him die. I know you don't want to — to meddle, I know, I know, but please, don't — not now, I'm begging you, just let me help him, just this once. Let me heal him, Jack, please."

@qapsiel || just remember. you asked for this. || oh maaan.

Sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding > maybe the rusty nail? :) :) :) :)

routine. fucking joke how that word ricochets in dean's head. a vampire nest was taking out innocent travelers and locals in a neighboring town far too close to home? dean gets reached out to. in turn? he reaches out to sam. they decide that since the bloodsuckers are knocking on their door? they'd go do some knocking back. get them gone. clean up the dark. something they've done countless times day in and day out since they were kids. long before they were popping pimples, they were popping rounds off at these assholes. nothing more than training practice for the bigger guys. nothing more than..

..routine.

til it wasn't.

there's metal where metal isn't supposed to be. deep. where metal, definitely, isn't supposed to be. dean can feel and taste the copper and thick pool of blood at the back of his throat. some slips out from between his lips as he calls. "sammy." cold rushes in. panic. adrenaline. anything his body can do to erase the blinding pain stemming from where he's stuck to the beam? it's going for. in overdrive. and not really succeeding. giving it's best shot, though. "sammy." he hears himself mumbling through his brother polishing off the asshole that sent him flying backwards. terrified eyes meet his. shoulders encased in sammy's hands, his brother holds on like he's keeping him grounded. here. whole. he begs him not to pull. dean tries to smile away the worry in sam's eyes, his breath, his jerky movements. sam does best to figure out what's wrong. "...messed up. ever zig when ya shoulda zagged? one of those.. a big one." then the sheer horror in hazel eyes once sammy realizes what's off--dean's head just falls forward to rest against his brother's chin.

"it's okay, sammy. it's gonna be okay. where's cas..?"

the brothers are murmuring to one another when cas finishes the lingering fanged freak upstairs. 'dean--,' he hears the soft confusion in cas's voice when he drops down from the second floor landing with a solid thud that shakes dean's footing on rotten floorboards. tears sting pained green eyes. fuck it hurts! all of it hurts. '--sam?' his brother's quick to gesture for cas to take over telling him he has to call 911. has to do something! doesn't matter what dean said, he's gonna fix this. SOMEHOW. sam gestures from one more rusty rebar near the ceiling to dean's chest, staring at castiel with a pale face and watery, red eyes. 'don't let him go,' the younger winchester begs. 'don't let him..' die goes unsaid. there's a mess blood that starts as bubbles at dean's mouth then starts to trickle down his chin to become a steady stream. droplets land on cas's lapel as dean's head rests on the former angel's shoulder.

"i'm sorry, cas. i can't.. i didn't--" this was all supposed to be so routine. he burns from head to toe and feels so damn tired. "love you, cas. 'm sorry." outside, sam's practically yelling into the phone. he wishes his brother would just come back... a wobbly hand snags a fistful of the front of cas's shirt. he's not allowed to leave, too. his weight shifts, tears a howl out. slumping against cas, he sucks in a breath that doesn't wanna get swallowed. "this wasn't s'pposed to happen.." they're happy. he's got a life to leave and he doesn't want to! not that he has it now. not that he knows what it's like to breathe away from the life. god damn figures, doesn't it? some kinda sick joke.. and now he's pissed and scared and his heart's breaking.

then again. he always did say it was gonna end this way. didn't he..?

just another part of the routine.

#bloodsalted #(hating you forever for this dixon)#( v: default )#( dyn: bloodsalted ❤️ It's the beat that my heart skips when I'm with you )

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