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doctorbitchcrxft · 13 days ago

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Am I Making You Feel Sick? | Supernatural Series Rewrite | A doctorbitchcrxft original | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: literally every warning ever, y/n's in a rough ass spot dude, hallucinations, recovering from a sexual assault (PLS HEED THIS WARNING THIS CHAPTER REFERS TO THIS HEAVILY), slightly toxic relationship dynamic, mentions of torture, discussions of religious trauma, discussing parental death, discussing major character death, isolation, depression, discussions of anxiety/not eating bc of it, y/n's personality is changin', man. off the rails fr, canon violence, canon gore, nightmares

Word Count: 6509

A/N: TEEHEE my first original episode!!! this episode is very heavy (obvi bc dean just died) but i still hope you guys enjoy it!!!!

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

the first episode of season 4 will be published on January 18, 2025 (how is it 2025 already). I do apologize for the delay, but I want to make sure that my writing is absolutely perfect for you guys because I love you very dearly.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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What a curious animal you'd become.

Killing was a part of your job. You danced with death on a daily basis; nothing about the concept was unfamiliar to you. And yet, everything you felt was completely foreign.

Grief: a simple word to encapsulate such a complex feeling. You thought you'd grieved before, and of course, you had. But losing Stephen, your mother, and your father couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of what losing him felt like.

Dean was gone. He was gone, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

The first day was his funeral. You and Sam refused to let Bobby burn his body; each of you knowing your insistence was due to a desire to go make demon deals yourselves. You were sure Bobby knew, too, but he said nothing. He simply helped Sam fashion a coffin out of a tree they cut down while you tried to piece Dean back together.

Tears fell on the stitches as you worked, water dampening the blood that had dried around the edges of the wounds. You did your best to clean the wounds gingerly, and you briefly laughed at yourself for being so careful when he wasn't even alive anymore. You quickly collapsed in a heap of sobs, biting the side of your hand nearest your pinky to keep yourself quiet.

Brushing his hair back, you would bend down occasionally to press kisses to his forehead. You cradled his head in your lap until the position you were in got uncomfortable. Feeling a lump in the back pocket of your jeans, you took out the wallet that was stowed there and tossed it aside. In the process, the little slip of paper Dean had given you at Christmas fell out.

Remembering what it was, you smiled fondly. It was his "coupon" he'd given you to redeem when he passed. It was a sweet gesture in an incredibly fucked up way, but your heart just hurt as you ran your hand over the pendant still around his neck.

You stared at his handwriting for a while, remembering when he'd jokingly asked you for cursive lessons after watching you write in your journal. His handwriting was admittedly horrendous, but you found it adorable. There was nothing you wouldn't do to see his hands move again.

You kissed the paper, folded it up, and stowed it in the only pocket of his jeans that wasn't ripped. The amulet felt foreign around your neck, but its weight brought you a slight bit of comfort.

Come to think of it, you'd never watched a loved one die. You'd had to kill your parents after they were turned, but that was completely different from watching the life drain from someone you loved with every bit of your soul.

You felt like you'd never leave that day. You'd never stop reliving those last few moments or his last words to you. Dean was never good with words; he showed his love in other ways. But his final profession of love to you was absolutely what you needed to hear, and yet, you felt no sense of closure.

Sam helped Bobby lower the casket into the ground, and you marked it with a cross they'd made from two extra pieces of wood.

As soon as you'd shoveled the last bit of dirt over the casket, you kissed Sam's cheek, then Bobby's, then sped off in one of Bobby's cars aimlessly.

****

You hadn't answered calls from Sam or Bobby since Dean's funeral.

You had forgotten how hard this was; being alone.

From the time your parents died when you were eighteen to the time you met the Winchesters at twenty-six, you'd been almost completely alone. Every day was spent in complete silence. You wouldn't speak unless spoken to, or unless it was necessary to move a case forward. Sure, you enjoyed music on road trips, but the car wasn't filled with laughter or witty chatter.

Hunting wasn't exactly a lively or rewarding profession. It never felt like your life was your own; it was always spent in the service of keeping everyone else safe. As a child, you frequently questioned why that was your responsibility. Your father would always tell you, "Because that's how we've always done it."

As far as you knew, everyone before you in your family had been hunters. You were the last surviving of a long line of hunters that your father always told you dated back to the birth of the first vampire. You weren't quite sure if that was your father over exaggerating, but you grew up believing this was what you were destined for.

As a young woman, you didn't even entertain the idea of doing anything else with your life. You had no skills, no documentation, no money, and no family. Where else could you go aside from diners to search the morning paper for an interesting obituary?

When you met Bobby, you thought that maybe things could be different. He'd found you after a hunt gone wrong against a werewolf, holding your insides together with your hoodie wrapped around your waist. The scariest part of your scrape with death was that you weren't even afraid of dying in that moment.

Steven had been the light of your world. You felt such a maternal relationship with him given the unbelievable amount of time you spent taking care of him while your parents were away, and his death truly hit you the hardest.

Your grief lessened with the passage of time, but you'd learned recently that all you'd done was numb it. You never truly healed from the loss of your parents and brother.

However, despite the tedious and often strife-filled existence you led, you were happy. At least, you believed you were happy, because you hadn't ever known what that felt like; that was, until you met the Winchesters. The little friend group you formed with them was your light in the darkness.

You felt cheated. If there was a god, he was a merciless bastard for giving you the best thing you could've asked for and ripping him away from you so soon.

Over and over, Dean's screams from that horrific night echoed in your mind. No amount of music could drown out the sounds rattling around your head.

That was when you were awake. When you would sleep, though, you’d dream of his experience in Hell.

The first time it’d happened the night after his funeral, you heard Dean screaming yours and Sam’s names over and over again, begging for help. And the next night, it happened again. The dreams of his experience in Hell were only becoming more vivid. Hooks tore through his flesh and kept the skin taut as he dangled over the demons who'd come to torture him. The nightmares were becoming so bad that you were afraid to sleep.

You'd wake with a start to the sound of Dean screaming your name, voice raw and pleading. You couldn't take it anymore.

It was as if he was just out of your reach. You were frozen in space just too far from Dean. Seeing him should have comforted you, but this was only hurting you further. You would have rathered never see him again than continuously watch him go through something so horrific.

The thing that finally broke you completely was a dream you had about Dean talking to you while he was tortured.

"Oh, god, (Y/N)," Dean cried as a demon called Alistair ripped into his flesh, "(Y/N), it hurts, help me, please! God, I can’t fucking take this anymore!"

When you awoke from that dream, you knew what you had to do. Somehow, someway, you were going to get a ticket to the pit, and you'd drag him out yourself. Even if you couldn't, at least you'd get to see him again. You'd tried to make deals, but no one would budge. Thus, you became desperate.

****

You abandoned your phone and laptop and continuously swapped out the cars you stole; only black cars, though, to help conceal you in the night. Every few weeks, you decided you'd switch out the wig you wore. Sometimes, you'd stuff your clothes to make your body shape change or steal a pair of reading glasses from a drug store to skew your appearance further.

After the Mystery Spot in Florida when the trickster made you believe Dean was dead for six months, you weren’t quite ready to go as far as you were willing now. Now, with the assurance that Dean was truly suffering given your recurring, horrible dreams, you were done.

The first stop on your mission was the prison where your life was changed forever. You'd been stalking the man responsible for a little over a week now. Avoiding the watchful eye of the Winchesters' old friend Deacon was difficult, but you managed. At last, the day came where you'd confront him.

In the dark of the guard's home, whose name you'd learned was Evan Kirkpatrick, you waited with a chloroform rag in your hand.

You didn't even allow him to turn the lights on before you were dragging his unconscious body out to the van you'd stolen.

****

In the middle of nowhere in Montana, you'd found a cabin when you were around twenty-two years old. It became your safe house when you needed it. Not even the Winchester brothers knew about it, and you preferred it that way. You knew if you'd told Sam about it, this would’ve been the first place he'd look for you when you first disappeared.

You had the guard securely tied to a chair in the center of the room. You played one of the records that had been left in the cabin and whistled along to it.

Sheets of plastic covered the floor beneath Evan's and your shoes to make for an easy cleanup when you were done with him.

The man before you slowly started to awaken. You remained seated comfortably next to the record player, face unchanged from its numb expression you seemed to permanently wear these days.

The guard groaned, head rolling side to side to try and get his bearings. When his eyes settled on you, he seemed to sober up immediately.

"Oh, fuck," he panicked, immediately trying to yank his way out of his binds.

"Hi," you said nonchalantly. "Remember me?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, okay?" he whined. "But this is fucking crazy!"

"Oh, you're sorry," you laughed coldly. You stood and approached the table you set up with all sorts of weapons next to him just out of his reach.

"Lady, look—"

"No, you listen to me," you spat, getting in his face. "We're gonna play a game. Every time you say 'no' or 'stop,' I'll drag it out even longer. Then, maybe, you'll really be sorry."

"I am! I am!" he cried.

"Y'know, for some reason, I don't believe you." You picked up a pair of pliers from the table beside you.

"No, no, please!" the guard wailed.

"What did I say about that word?" you taunted.

****

Hours later, the man in front of you was on the brink of death. His entire body was littered with remnants of your work, and you were ready to deliver the final blow. Seeing this man made you physically ill, and you were just ready for it to be over.

And so, you ended it at point-blank range. You picked up the chair, the plastic mat, his body, and you dragged them outside to be burnt in a clearing outside of the cabin.

You watched it all burn emotionlessly, the numbing having returned to every one of your limbs.

'I'm coming, Dean. I promise.'

****

As you’d mentioned to Dean, your father insisted upon you and Steven learning different methods of torture when you were younger. He thought it would enable you to survive them easier as well as be able to get the information you needed from the various creatures you hunted.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were good at it. As fucked up as it was, your father had taught you how to detach from the reality of what you were putting another human through and focus on getting what you needed.

What you told yourself you needed from the guard was a way to ensure you would make it down to Hell. However, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d done it because you wanted him to suffer just as you were suffering.

You knew you’d need to continuously do horrible things for your plan to work. You hoped that you would attract the attention of a demon you’d allow to use you for a ride downstairs, or a crossroads demon would find you so enticing because of your deeds that they’d make a deal with you.

In truth, you knew that logic wasn’t sound. However, you were so desperate, you needed something, anything, to occupy your time and make you feel you were getting closer to seeing Dean again.

You never considered yourself the emotional type before losing him. The trickster's comparison of you to Full Metal Jacket would sometimes provide you a lifeless laugh given how well he'd predicted all you'd become.

The nightmares were relentless. You tried every form of soothing yourself to sleep— meditation, a sound machine, smoking before bed— anything to possibly change your night terrors, but nothing worked. Every night, Dean was torn apart in front of you brokenly crying yours or Sam’s name.

While you were awake, you would find your reflection staring back at you as you were on the day of your assault. The guard uniform, mussed up ponytail, and scratches on the side of your face had returned; undoubtedly due to your sleep deprivation and rapidly decaying mental state.

You’d see flashes of Dean’s body laying on the ground in the shadows of the cabin with the gashes the Hellhound had given him or the heads of your parents’ monstrous forms. Steven appeared several times with half of his face torn to shreds, just as you’d found him in his car so long ago.

Smoking weed didn’t help; neither did Xanax. Nothing could supply you reprieve from your anxiety-ridden days. Your anxiety was driving you to the point of being unable to eat. Exhausted, high, anxious, and malnourished, you passed out curled up in a ball on the couch. That time, a different dream disrupted your sleep.

You awoke in the middle of a clearing in the woods. The sun streamed through trees of an almost unnatural green, and the grass felt too pillowy soft beneath you.

You sat up to find a bush burning beside you.

"Seriously?" you cursed at the sky. "A burning bush? I'm not fucking Moses."

"You'd do well to mind your tongue in my presence," the bush replied.

"Well, excuse me, but you're a bush. In my dream. I don't have to do what you say," you answered.

"I'm not a bush, (Y/N). And I'm not god, either. My name is Uriel," the voice said.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It will. I am an angel. I have been sent by god to recruit you for a mission of the utmost importance," Uriel answered.

"Yeah, right. You're an angel," you scoffed. "How come you don't have a harp and fluffy wings?"

"Frankly, your human depictions of us are insulting," replied Uriel. "I cannot show you my true face or true voice; it would blind and deafen you."

"So.. bush..." you trailed off. "Wait, why am I even entertaining this? You're not real; this is just a dream."

"I was told you were stubborn," Uriel said more to himself than you. "How have you been sleeping?"

You scoffed. "If you're a divine being, or whatever, you should already know the answer."

"I do. I am the one who bestowed those visions upon you," Uriel replied.

"Oh! Wonderful." You suddenly had a realization. "Wait, visions? They're not dreams?"

"No, (Y/N). Those were all very real," Uriel explained. "Michael greatly admired your craftsmanship." The angel was undoubtedly referring to your torture of the guard; you hadn’t done anything else in the last month.

"The archangel?" you questioned. "Why would he—?"

"Because that skillset is why you have been chosen for this mission," Uriel replied. "Angels, like demons, need vessels. But we need willing participants. In order for us to carry out our work, we need you to find them. Michael believes your handiwork will help us find these vessels."

You considered. "And what do I get in return?"

"You humans and... reciprocity," the angel remarked disdainfully. "All you need to know is this will help get Dean out of Hell. You know what he's experiencing presently, and I will continue to show it to you until the work is done. Do we understand each other?"

You nodded, stomach turning. "I gotta be honest, though, man, I don't know how much more of seeing Dean like that I can take."

"You will take it for as long as I say you must," he responded forcefully, the bush erupting further into flame with his anger. "Michael believes it will give you incentive to get the job done quicker. This is not up for negotiation."

Your jaw clenched in anger, but you knew better than to argue. "What do you want me to do?"

"Hunt," Uriel responded. "Find suitable vessels. And, if they do not agree to having an angel possess them, use force."

"You've gotta know no one's just gonna agree to that."

"Precisely why we've enlisted your help, (Y/N)," the angel replied monotonously.

"What, do I just pick randoms off the street?" you scoffed.

"You'll know them when you see them," Uriel answered.

"How do I even know this is real anyway?"

Before you could get an answer to your question, you woke up.

You sat up with a start and turned to look out the open window you had certainly closed before you went to sleep. And just outside, a bush you'd never noticed before was burning.

"Great."

****

It was nearly humorous; the times when you'd switch out your car and hear a growling dog, nearly resulting in an innocent animal being shot in the head. You'd then realize you weren't shooting at a Hellhound, and it would all come rushing back to you. Sometimes, you'd flip through the channels of the radio and find the classic rock station and immediately start sobbing. Even saying his name out loud hurt.

No respite from the nightmares was ever granted to you. There was no opportunity for you to dream of those quiet moments with Dean; no escape from the horrible reality of Dean in Hell and you becoming some angel's weapon.

You felt like you were going crazy. You didn't feel entirely convinced to join in Uriel's game— if that had even been real— but you would do anything to help Dean. Night by night, you saw him worn down even further. His resolve was breaking, and his voice was raw from screaming your name. It broke your heart to pieces.

A few days after Uriel's visit, you went out to a town a state over to get groceries. Suddenly, you made brief eye contact with a tall black man. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, but your ears began ringing as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Out of nowhere, you thought, 'Uriel.'

Discreetly, you turned out of the grocery store and began to follow him. Your hands were buried in your hoodie pockets, and you kept your head down low to avoid suspicion.

However, despite the gun you were gripping in your jacket pocket, you knew you couldn't kidnap him now; it was the middle of the day, and people surrounded you.

So you followed him. For a few days, actually. You got to know his and his family's routine and when he was most likely to be alone. Finally, your opportunity arose. His daughter and wife had gone out for the little one's dance class, and night had fallen.

You frantically pounded on his door. You pretended you were having car troubles and were new to town, so you had no friends to call.

You felt horrible because this man was so nice to you, but you would do anything for Dean. Under these circumstances, that definitely scared you.

You took your crowbar and knocked him over the head hard, then shoved him in the backseat of the stolen sedan you drove. Needless to say, you'd have to switch it out urgently.

****

Finally, you got back to your cabin. You dragged the man into it where new sheets of plastic had been laid over the floor and walls.

You securely tired the man to the chair placed in the exact center of the room and waited patiently for him to wake up.

You turned on your favorite of the cabin's records— "Laughing on the Outside" by Bernadette Carroll— and whistled along.

Slowly, the man came to.

"Sorry about all this," you said earnestly when he became completely alert. "It's my job. It's complicated, y'know?"

"Who are you? What do you want?!" he asked frantically. "Whatever it is, I’ll— I’ll give it to you!"

"Perfect," you replied. "Then this shouldn't be difficult at all."

"What is it? Money?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing like that," you said. "Now, listen, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but—"

"I do already, don't worry," the man snarked, pulling at his restraints.

"I like you. Honestly," you commented, offering a small smile. "You believe in god?"

"What does that—"

"Just answer the question, please," you said evenly.

He nodded timidly.

"Well, one of his angels needs your help. Uriel's his name. And all you gotta do is say yes," you explained. "He just needs to borrow your body for a bit."

"What?! What the hell does that mean?" he panicked.

"Just say yes." Your voice remained monotonous, but there was a slight pleading to it.

"No! No way!" he said.

You sighed and got up to approach your tools. "I really didn't wanna have to do this."

****

Finally, you wore the man down. It didn't take him very long, to be fair, but it was much more difficult for you to torture an innocent person for an angel than it was to torture your rapist.

Uriel seemed to notice your confliction. He stood from the chair having healed the man's wounds from inside his body and crossed the room to you. "Be not afraid, (Y/N)."

"I'm not... but thanks, I guess," you replied.

"I can tell you're troubled. Keep in mind, if you choose to stop now, you will never stop dreaming of Dean in Hell," he asserted while he turned away from you.

"Hey, wait a second, that wasn't part of our deal," you said, following him.

"We don't have a deal, (Y/N). I gave you an order," he replied calmly. His even and monotonous voice was both comforting and unsettling.

"But... what about Dean?" you protested.

"We're not saving him for you, child. No one's that special. God has his own plan for Dean."

You rolled you eyes and turned away.

"What is it?" Uriel questioned.

"I'm just not buying this whole 'god has a plan' thing," you said, an edge of anger in your voice. "If he did, that would mean he planned for me to kill my parents. He planned for me to get raped. He planned for Dean to go to Hell—"

"He did," was all Uriel simply replied with.

Your face went slack in shock. If you didn't hate "god" before, you certainly did now.

"I'll be seeing you, (Y/N)."

When you turned around, Uriel was gone.

****

You spent the next few days angry. Sure, the good things in the world were part of "god's plan," but so was genocide and the Holocaust. You could not wrap your head around how a loving and just god would include such terrible things in his "masterful plan."

Then, you went numb again. You always thought that proof of the existence of a higher power would make you feel better, but it had done the exact opposite. Nothing you did seemed to matter anymore; everything you did felt like being a pawn in a game you didn't know you were playing. Dean's suffering was god's plan, and you hated god for it.

But you did as told. Nothing would stand between you and seeing Dean again, and you would do everything in your power to keep him from suffering any longer. So you continued your task. As upset as you were at the idea of torturing innocent people for a god you'd lost all faith in, you would do it a million times over for your love.

The second of the vessels came under circumstances similar to the ones you'd found Uriel's: a trip to the gas station where an overwhelming, ear-piercing sound rang through your head.

'Zachariah,' you suddenly thought. Your heart broke at the sight of the elderly man at the pump across from you as he was to be your next victim. However, you steeled your nerves and carried on.

****

Why did people pray? If they knew their god was creating horrible situations in their lives as part of his master plan, would they continue to? Or did they just have that much faith in his “benevolence” that they’d pray anyway?

With the information you had now, it all seemed pointless. You felt the way Dean did: a husk of a human to be used as a weapon. With a cosmic being pulling the strings, you didn’t feel in control at all. You had never been in control. God had planned for you to suffer the way you were now.

At fifteen pounds lighter than you’d been when Dean first died, you looked sickly. Your skin had no color, your eyes were sunken and lifeless, your hair had lost its shine, and looking at yourself in the mirror disgusted you. As time kept creeping forward, you began to see yourself not only in your guard outfit, but holding the tools that were torturing Dean from your dreams as he hung on the rack behind you.

The first time you saw that, you screamed. You jumped back from the mirror in the living room and fell to the floor, bringing the lamp and an end table with you. Shards of glass from the lamp’s lightbulb pierced your skin, but your rapidly thumping heart drowned out the pangs and pricks coming from your right palm.

It had been two months and seventeen days since Dean went to Hell. You weren’t consciously keeping track, but something in you always knew how long it’d been.

You began to adjust to only sleeping for two hours a night. Sure, the bags under your eyes and paling face protested, but forcing yourself awake was better than seeing Dean like that. The demon responsible for ripping Dean apart just to put him back together and start again, Alistair, had a face that was burned into your mind. When you were done with all the angel business, you'd be killing him yourself.

Every night, you saw Alistair approaching Dean and providing him with an offer: if Dean wanted to get off the rack, he'd have to put other souls on and torture them himself. If you were honest with yourself, you were slowly becoming more and more desperate for Dean to take Alistair up on his deal.

Uriel had explained to you that time moved differently in Hell. What was two and a half months on Earth was more like twenty-five years in Hell.

The nightmares didn't stop. If anything, they became worse. It was as if Uriel could sense your hesitance and was making your task that much harder to leave incomplete.

Your hesitance was in torturing the old man that was to be Zachariah’s vessel. He and his wife had just adopted a cat, and the three lived an apple-pie life. The idea of stealing this elderly woman’s husband and putting her in the same situation you were in now was weighing heavy on your heart.

You learned the couple had a daughter who’d passed away a few years ago. It brought the two closer to each other, their grandchildren, and their son-in-law, as she’d been their only child. Despite their close relationship, though, you knew they needed a miracle.

You learned that the angels seemed to pick vessels who were down on their luck. Uriel’s vessel’s sister was in the hospital dying of breast cancer.

“Uriel, they needed healing. This guy didn’t want his miracle to be a fucking angel possessing him,” you argued. Fighting with the being was futile, but you couldn’t stand by idly without giving any push back.

“(Y/N), what more of a miracle could he ask for? He has been a devout servant of the Lord since he was a child, and god decided to answer all his prayers.” His voice was strained with barely contained anger, and his patience was draining rapidly. Still, you pushed on.

“You said he could kick you out at any second, right? I’m surprised he hasn’t fucking done that yet. ‘Angel of the lord’ my ass. You used me, a pothead dropout to do your dirty work instead of doing it yourself. I would’ve kicked your manipulative ass out the second you—” You were cut off when the angel backhanded you powerfully. His voice was dangerously even when he spoke again. “Another word, and I will make sure you never see Dean again.”

Still in shock and hurting from the blow, you nodded weakly. When you turned your head back to where he was standing, the angel had disappeared.

With a moment to allow what had just happened to settle in, your breathing became rapid and labored. Tears swam in your eyes, and your knees buckled.

You were barely clinging to your sanity. Uriel was growing impatient with you and informed you Zachariah was, too. When you reminded yourself that you were simply a pawn in a cosmic chess game, you returned to your task.

The elderly man’s screams broke your heart.

“Please, please, just say, ‘yes’,” you begged him. “I don’t wanna do this to you.”

“Then, don’t,” the man sobbed. “Just let me go home to my wife.”

“No, I can’t, sir, I’m sorry.” You were barely holding back tears of your own. “Didn’t you pray for a miracle? This is it.”

“I wanted my daughter back, not some psycho with a knife to get me to agree to… ‘angelic possession’,” he replied.

“The pain will all go away if you say, ‘yes’,” you told him. “About your daughter, from this—” you gestured to your knife and the cuts on his body, “all of it. Just say, ‘yes’.”

Finally, finally, he nodded.

You sighed in relief. “Thank you,” you told him.

But when you looked back up at him, the man had already been possessed by Zachariah. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, wiping his hands off on the man’s sweater.

Uriel was a complete dick, but he looked like a sweetheart in comparison to Zachariah. Luckily, you didn't see Zachariah so much. Three months had gone by since Dean's death, and you still saw Alistair providing Dean with his twisted offer. You knew Dean couldn't hear you, but you screamed for him to take it. You knew he'd never forgive himself, but you couldn't watch the man you loved in so much pain anymore. He had become your whole world, and your world was crumbling with each passing day.

Then, finally, Dean accepted.

Alistair hummed as he approached Dean, and you could do nothing but watch from the sidelines.

A demon was individually removing the muscles from Dean’s arm, unfazed by his horrible cries. The skin had clearly been brutally ripped from it as his shoulder looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal.

“God, fuck you,” Dean panted.

Alistair tsked. “There’s that attitude I love so much. You know the drill, sweet cheeks, what'll it be?”

For the first time since you’d dreamt of Dean’s experience in Hell, he hesitated.

“What’s this?” Alistair gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft, Deano.”

Dean hung his head low, unmoving and not answering.

“I need an answer, De-an,” the demon sang.

Without picking his head up, Dean mumbled, “I'll do it.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Sorry,” the demon hummed, “didn’t hear you. What was that?”

Dean grunted, “I said, I’ll do it!” with his voice cracking.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Alistair chuckled, a sickening smile spreading across his face.

As much as your heart broke for him, you were slightly relieved that his physical pain was over. However, you knew you had to get him out of there. The psychological torture of hurting others who didn't deserve it would break him completely, and you had to keep him from that somehow.

Something was unsettling you about all this, though. Despite how unsettling your situation was to begin with, you knew there was something the angels you'd been working with weren't telling you.

Uriel especially would act as though he wanted your job done as quickly as possible. However, when you explained it was only through "divine intervention, or whatever" that you were finding these vessels, and you had no control over the speed at which you found them, he'd get angry and cold. But he wouldn't press the issue with you.

The number of vessels he'd assigned you to find was weirding you out, too: seven. You knew seven was a heavily spiritual number through your upbringing in the Catholic Church. However, you couldn't quite put your finger on what was happening.

Half of you wanted to reach out to Sam and ask him his opinions. Your rational mind knew, though, that he'd never believe what you were saying and would quite possibly never look at you the same again.

That brought on a more troubling thought; when Dean saw what you'd become— a cold, lifeless shell of the girl you once were— what would he say? Would he even want to see you anymore? Would he still be able to love you?

You had to cover the mirrors in your cabin because the sight of yourself was making you sick. If Dean looked at you the way you looked at you, you didn’t think you’d be able to live with yourself.

Aside from disgust, immense anger was the next thing to come to your mind. You were angry at yourself for allowing yourself to become so consumed with Dean’s death. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to fall so hard; to rot from your ever-present anxiety. You knew you should have gone to get help. And you supposed if you were a normal person, you would have. If you’d had a partner who died at a young age, you likely would have cut your losses, gone to therapy, and moved on. However, given the information you knew now— that you could save Dean— you weren’t going to give up on him.

You buried yourself in your work to keep yourself from going insane. As twisted as it was, the repetitive nature of your assignment was almost... peaceful? You were sure that couldn't be the proper way to describe your feelings, but it was the only word you could come up with.

Perhaps it was that the gruesome work had become mundane. It gave you yet another chance to completely dull the world out until you heard that wonderful "Yes! I'll do it!" from your victim.

Those words brought you the briefest moment of joy because it meant the horrible deed was over, and you were one step closer to seeing Dean again.

WatchingDean try to swallow his tears and maintain a steely expression while he tortured some poor soul under Alistair's direction became harder and harder every night. If you weren't set on killing Alistair before, you certainly were now. You wished so badly you could reach out to him and hold him.

Finally, after four long and torturous months, your task was complete. You'd found the last vessel for an angel you hadn't quite committed the name of to memory and prayed to Uriel to come to you.

"There. I did what you asked," you said. "Now, go get Dean."

****

That night, you sat on the couch in front of the television inhaling a bowl of cereal. You'd frequently turn the news on to see if there was any new information on demonic omens, any trouble Sam had gotten himself into, or sometimes, just the weather.

“Authorities are searching for this woman—” a grainy image of you wearing a wig, a hood, and jeans appeared on screen, and he supposed it’d been caught on CCTV, “—whose identity is unknown, but she has been potentially connected to at least seven murders over the past four months; all of well-respected, family-oriented men across multiple state lines. She is considered to be armed and dangerous, and if you have any information, please call—”

Your bowl and spoon clattered to the floor. "Oh, fuck."

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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derpylittlenico · 2 years ago

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...relatable

#anxiety induced stomach issues my dudes #it's fucking rough

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fountainpenguin · 4 months ago

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Riddle watches New Wish - Post #28

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 3 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

They locked the boy who has a darkness phobia in the deep dark pit, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

omfg, OF COURSE the first thing he does is ask for a drink... Good to know that even 8 years ago, I clocked him as growing up to be a guy who relies on the things that get Fairies drunk (sugar and carbonation) to block out his excessive trauma. oh geez, dude...

How long's he been losing his mind down here? He was fine a few episodes ago in "Growing Pains"! D: He was hanging out at his parents' place!

- Oh, I SO called Peri with magical back-up. He's having a rough go of it... Wowza, he's hallucinating about Dev. That's dark. - I really hope they don't send Foop on a bathroom break or my anxiety is going to spike through the roof. Even if Hazel did use her rule-free wish to revive them, would that be f'd up if they killed Peri and Irep off the way the Grim Reaper told Foop he'd die back in "Man's Worst Friend" or what?

I think ginger ale is good for nausea, which is why Peri's asking for it, but it's still funny because... canonically, he can get drunk if he has enough of that.

I like the rainbow sickness. This feels more correct and enjoyable than the rapid inflation and explosion of the OG series. You can tell Peri is sick and gradually expanding as his magic backs up, but I like that we get to see it, especially since it's set up as death in this universe (rather than easy to recover from in the OG).

I like seeing that Peri is VERY clearly ill and definitely not in a mental or physical place to "push through the pain and escape."

I definitely would say "This is dark," and this loops back to what I said watching "Fearless" and "28 Puddings Later" that A New Wish is definitely a tone shift from the OG. I wouldn't say it's Invader Zim dark, but I think the only episode that gave me vibes this dark was "Channel Chasers" during the scenes that were aiming for "gritty adult action with buff hero characters.

I know Poof and Foop got torn out of reality in "Timmy's Secret Wish," but that's still cute and fluffy to me... lmao.

sldkjfsdklfj, I made a joke during my "Lost in Fairy World" liveblog about how Cosmo and Wanda were going to get ants with all that candy in their room. I know Hazel is lying about ants, but I like it.

Her landlord's hair reminds me of Remy's. that's... a unique style.

/glances tiredly and uneasily at my list of Remy's many runaway uncles who scampered off since they weren't their parents' heir and are still pretty messed up...

I enjoy Wanda comforting her dying son while Cosmo's taking it hard off to the side. Cosmo wanting a moment to himself feels right.

Peri and Irep must not be synced up, presumably because Irep is using magic to grant wishes. Or Anti-Fairies don't get back-up.

There he is~ Anti-Cosmo "literally only here because I was told I might score a godkid" Anti-Cosma. I hate him! (affectionate).

Anti-Wanda looks like she would bite me and I would let her.

Something is so very wrong with Dev "Instead of wishing my lactose intolerance went away, I'm going to delete lactose from the universe" Dimmadome.

I enjoy Irep constantly bouncing or lightly kicking his feet as he waits for Dev to give him new wishes. He definitely gets that from his dad.

Absolutely on the floor that I clocked Anti-Cosmo as hanging back while Irep runs the show with Dev. They've literally not changed and I'm so happy!!!!

I spent over a year worried they were going to reboot A.C. into some take-charge, full-steam-ahead takeover villain, and you're telling me the local confrontation-avoider is still avoiding conflict??

Take me out now; it's never getting better than this. (The sequel.) I'm gonna be riding this high for months.

I was expecting to see Tibecuador on that map, but they cleverly have the Americas on the other side of the globe. I assume that disappeared when Timmy aged out of Fairies, though we know it wasn't unwished after Season 5 (It gets a mention in Season 6).

I like that both Dev and Irep enjoy dancing to "So proud of my son" lyrics. They're vibin'. Irep has daddy issues too.

sdlkfjsd, when Jorgen undid Dev's "king of America" wish a few episodes ago, he didn't erase anyone's minds?? I like that the news refers to Dev as "former king of America."

??? Did Dev and Trev break their friendship after Episode 1 because they both like Bev? That's hilarious!

The news report specifically says "couples are breaking up" due to Anti-Fairy influence, without implying that Anti-Fairies caused these two to get together in the first place. WERE they together? That's silly.

I am once again disappointed we were robbed of the Trev-Dev-Bev friend squad. But this is funny too.

Another waning crescent.

I'mma be honest, but Hazel saying she's had her fairies for about a year just makes me even more confused as to why we're doing a "get a rule-free wish after 1 million" instead of the previously established "get a rule-free wish after 1 year."

I... am gonna un-canonize her 1 million wishes in 'fic unless this ends up being incredibly important. Sorry to keep bringing it up, but I just can't wrap my head around this. "Timmy's Secret Wish" was kind of a big deal. It was a movie and not just a one-off episode, and it's been referenced several times in A New Wish already. Timmy took so much flak for being allegedly wasteful, dangerous, or overly reliant on his wishes. He did make some wild ones, but I'm SO curious to know what Hazel wished for. I wish we'd see flashbacks like we did in that movie, but again... recognizing the limits of a 20-minute episode.

I'm so glad Jasmine told Hazel she wasn't shocked by the reveal that Hazel had fairy godparents, seeing as in Post #10, I said she'd expressed suspicions towards Hazel twice but it didn't seem to be going anywhere and I was disappointed. That's a good callback.

Winn: Your apartment was a hotel and then it wasn't.

That's the other thing I was wondering about! Thanks, Winn. You're my favorite.

It drives me wild that Antony's not going to talk to Hazel about whether she has issues because he doesn't have the context to know fairies get assigned to miserable children. I feel like he'd really want to hear about that.

Antony knows Cosmo and Wanda? Maybe they DID have dinner together. I hope he met Peri. I think they'd be friends. I'll have to look back and see if he was introduced to them by name in "Rattleconda Racers," but... I don't think I noticed he'd clocked them as her neighbors.

They probably crossed paths offscreen while he was home for the holidays. I haven't settled on a timeline yet, but he could've been home for a whole month for winter, so it's likely they've met and he saw Hazel interact with them.

There is something so funny about Winn saying they sussed Cosmo and Wanda out as fairies because of their pink and green hair when they look like this:

I enjoy Hazel being familiar enough with Dev, Cosmo, and Wanda to know their clothes by heart, but she blanked on Irep-

- implication being that she remembered his giant square head and not much else. Not even wings.

Hazel 🤝 Chloe Remembering Foop's hair, mustache, and crown, but forgetting he wears clothes

I'm surprised Hazel's friends are ready to go to war against an entire race of evil magical beings famed for bad luck and torture, and they don't have any questions about this? I feel like one of them would want to talk to their parents. Jasmine said she was a fraidy-cat early on, but I guess facing her fears in "Fearless" turned that around more than I expected.

Oh no, Jorgen's in a pit.

??? If we're in Jorgen's office, where was Peri held before the takeover?

I like how Anti-Cosmo clicks his heels.

New shirt design for Anti-Wanda?? That was on my reboot bucket list! I had my fingers crossed for a fancy dress, sweater, or jacket, but I'll take it! This is clever because it's close to her old design.

... I don't look forward to drawing it :'D

I am OBSESSED with their energy. Anti-Cosmo is so fancy and Anti-Wanda looks like she showed up in pajamas or party clothes. And he loves her so much. That's always been their thing, but it's good to get a reminder since he spends so much of their 1-on-1 time in the OG series screaming and running around. I missed him... It's been 11 years...

... Actually, that makes this my first time ever seeing new (canon) Anti-Cosmo content drop since he was outtie by the time I got to the fandom (back in 2016 when Season 10 was just starting). Exciting!

I actually have an AU called "King Me" that I started in 2016 but have never posted anything for, but it's about Anti-Wanda being raised from birth as the leader of the Anti-Fairies and getting betrothed to some nerd, and seeing them new and shiny and dressed like this makes me want to finish it, because I love Anti-Wanda being in charge when she's so casual and silly. It's one of my favorites <3

omg, it's an anti-Fairy shirt... OH, this makes the fact I portray Anti-Wanda as giggly over puns and wordplay even better...

Anti-Wanda shopping, pointing at the crossed-out crown: It's me.

I like how while Anti-Cosmo is bragging that Anti-Fairies are masters of torture who know all their counterparts' weaknesses, Cosmo looks like this:

Anti-Cosmo: I'm a master of torture... I know your biggest weakness~ Cosmo: I don't believe you for a second, but go off I guess

Irep knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Peri to the dark pit... u can't make me believe it was an accident he was hyperventilating and rocking back and forth with crossed eyes when Cosmo and Wanda got to him...

Wheezing at the fact that I'm pretty sure neither A.C. nor Anti-Wanda has been addressed by name because the writers gave us Irep and Lezah... They can't drop the anti-names on us and don't want to call them Omsoc and Adnaw.

I DID wonder where that set-up was going, but I think their names not being not acknowledged at all is the funniest direction.

Like?? POV, New Wish is your only exposure to Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, but you don't engage with the fandom so you sus out for yourself what their backwards names would be and that's how you grow up thinking of them.

I personally have Anti-Fairy kids using names picked by their parents and they only switch to using their anti-names when they become adults, so... if we were to assume Irep is just slightly too young to use the name Anti-Peri, that headcanon would still track in New Wish for him and Lezah. Which is interesting.

..... If Peri is short for Periwinkle, is Irep's full name Elkniwirep, because ouch. I understand where he was coming from when he complained his new name was "much more difficult to pronounce" than Foop.

I like the implication that Anti-Fairy nicknames would come from the end of their names rather than the beginning. Though looking at that name, I think Noir would also be an appropriate nickname for him.

Irep when he has to sign for a package for his parents: Eh, you can come back next week.

Anti-Cosmo's clothes are spot-on. It's him!! ... Except for his monocle being on the wrong side. I personally made him blind in one eye in 'fics, but I'm pretty sure a real monocle can be used on either eye.

It's kind of funny to me they did that. It must be easier to model this way, but the OG series never depicted him switching to the other eye even when he turned his head. Kind of interesting in an "I wonder if modern fanart will portray it interchangeably or if the right eye is deemed consistent" kind of way.

!!!! They kept his big ol' giant fangs!!! Irep definitely gets most of his personality from his mom, but he's got Dad's fangs <3

This makes me want to practice drawing him more. A.C. is the hardest for me to draw (between his clothes, hat, hair, and having bat-like ears in Cloudlands AU), but I really like his cravat here and would like to take another whack at him, I think.

skldjf, I'm glad Anti-Cosmo is still Mr. "super weird about needing to hold things in his left hand." Nobody cares, but I care

In the OG show, he threw his wand off-screen so he could switch his teacup to his left hand after picking it up... He does this in multiple episodes, shifting things to his left for no reason even if he picks them up in his right. I'm sure it means nothing, but... why did they draw him doing that? He keeps his wineglass on his left despite Anti-Wanda being depicted with hers on her right... Sometimes he'll even stand next to other characters and hold an item in his left even though his neighbor is holding the same item in their right. why.

?? Anti-Cosmo had to look up "discombobulated" in the dictionary? Wouldn't the taunting have been stronger to prove he doesn't have to look it up?

I like Anti-Cosmo bracing his legs beneath the dictionary the same way Peri did when he was looking at Da Rules.

Heavy book; need better weight distribution or it's killer on the back.

sdfkljsd... oh, poor Cosmo... Listen..... LISTEN........ I know there's no way in heck they would bring back the "77 Secrets of the Fairly OddParents (Revealed)" lore that Cosmo's deepest secret is that he's an "author of distinction" who's written oodles of books, including Astrophysics for Morons from the episode "Shelf Life," but...

This is SO MEAN... I have a 'fic ("Repeat") where we learn Cosmo's been erasing his own memories for ages because people wanted him in jail or worse for writing about astrophysics when Fairy culture pushes the idea that stars are ancient Fairies (à la "Wishology") and this is how he's protecting himself. My interpretation of him is that he gets upset sometimes because "He used to know what these words mean," like... that is an actual scene I've written, and I'm dying...

Corporate needs you to find the difference between these scenes... lmao.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy, not following the old beliefs… but we're on enough thin ice with the Fairy Council as it is. Let's… not tip the scales by making wild claims about the stars. But if it's any consolation… You can tell me about astrophysics any time of week." "Mm…" He didn't even know what 'consolation' meant. He did once, though… Didn't he? When he read his old diaries, they made no sense because he used to know so many words. His handwriting. His memories. But not all the words made sense anymore. Robin Cosma would be so disappointed in his son. How funny that your father can be a poet known across the cloudlands… and you can't remember how to spell "tinnitus."

Anti-Cosmo, you are being SO mean in my lore right now... Thanks, I hate it. But I like that physical torture wasn't the option they went for. This feels very right to me (Mental torments, preying on fears and paranoia instead of just attacking... This feels right for their species since they're supposed to be dark and creepy).

-> I mean, I don't know what I expected from Anti-Cosmo "avoids confrontation if he might get hurt" Anti-Cosma, but... lol.

SKLDFJSLDFJSLDFJ??

Anti-Wanda: /shoves A.C. out of the way and takes his book Anti-Cosmo: :(

If Anti-Cosmo has to confront anyone while he's in slapping range, he will die, actually. Wait, what did I write at the start of this liveblog?

OG series Anti-Cosmo doesn't even want to take over Fairy World; he wants a godkid. His shtick is "I will literally do anything for a godkid even if it's stupid and I make a fool of myself." And then he makes a fool of himself; it's great. [...] Taking over means confronting magical people, and Anti-Cosmo doesn't, like... do that. He taunts people IF he holds a blatant advantage (like them being locked up or them being a human who can't jump and grab him), but he's also a huge coward <3 He's Mr. Buddy System. He needs his Anti-Fairies. So... He might be here, yeah! But I do get major Irep vibes. Irep's totally leading, and I don't see Anti-Cosmo's aesthetic here, so I think he's playing a small supporting role if he's here at all. [...] He DOES have smug energy and cool lines sometimes… but he's also a tantrum-throwing brat who's scared to stand up to people, and in this house, we love him for it!! [...] I just want Anti-Cosmo to be an awkward nerd pretending to be confident, but also he likes to run around and goof off, but he should also look at people like he's confused they kicked his puppy.

sdlkfjsfdjkl??? oh my fluffin' gee. This is beat for beat "Anti-Cosmo taunting people when he's trapped them under a butterfly net in "Fairly Odd Baby" and then backing the heck down as soon as H.P. tells him "Yeah, we're not doing that." ... This is the same energy as Jorgen's slideshow when he specifically labels H.P., not Anti-Cosmo, the more influential parent of the anti-fairy child they raised to be evil way back when... He's the same person... He's such a sheep <3

I was so worried they'd change you, my doormat nephew, and for WHAT?!! Go king; give us nothing!!!

They didn't give him oodles of sass? That's what I thought for SURE they'd reboot him with. I'm losing it. He really is "just there doing his best" without being the main villain. He's minimally helpful. Basically not at all. I can finally embrace him without a hint of hesitation... My windblown tissue of a boy has come home!!

This is the best! spitting, crying. I cannot believe this. I can finally stop second-guessing if I even read him right in the OG series. He's so cringefail loserboy and always has been and I can finally stop lying low about it! I LOVE HIM!!

I genuinely could not fathom a world where they brought him back and he was still just Like That... How ?? did they do this?? I was so SURE they'd put him in charge and only present his "smug, confident" façade and I'd just shrug it off and try to squint for the parts of him I enjoy the most… omfg… Our anxious, dorky coward actually made the jump?

He's like Anatole Kuragin... Anti-Cosmo would be flawless in the role of "Okay, sing these two songs like you're the sexiest and most confident man alive. And for this other song, cower on the floor wailing about how you're a man of honor and the old man calling you a scoundrel should take it back because it hurts your feelings. You just tried to kidnap the girl you like, but got spooked and ran away. btw, you're everyone's most specialist boy in the world."

The Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 AU nobody asked for but we know we deserve:

btw, after years of waiting, I had the opportunity to see this musical (<3) and words cannot express how I felt when - after listening to the soundtrack and always wondering why Anatole backs off so fast when Marya shoos him from the courtyard - I got to experience the shock of Marya bursting onstage with a gun.

I am in such shock that I read Anti-Cosmo right. Like ?? I don't know why that's bizarre to me- I've taken so many notes on him and I was very confident in what I thought about him. I just ?? can't believe he's still set up to be a soggy dishrag?

No one ??? ever portrays him like this ?? We don't do that here! That's not on his Fandom Wiki page, which calls him a "ruthless criminal mastermind" and "far more devious than most other villains in the show." People don't remember him like this... I'm dreaming...

I gotta lie down. What the FLIP do they have written for him in the story bible, if anything?

-> I gotta read the OG series story bible @zachbrightside sent me. I've been putting it off 'til after New Wish, but maybe I'll liveblog my reactions to that too.

-> Fun fact, I collect story bibles due to my days of combing Scribd for early scripts... But the OG series story bible for FOP is one I never thought I'd see in my LIFE. I'm excited.

Okay, I totally got impatient and took a sneak peak at the New Wish story bible for fun (something I glimpsed super briefly about a year and a half ago and then put away because I wanted to wait and see the show for myself, so I didn't see more than a glimpse of Hazel, Winn, and Whispers Fred, but I don't want to look at the OG series bible until I'm properly liveblogging). AND!!!!

Guess who didn't misremember the rumor about the Pixies coming back! I'll talk about that more in a separate liveblog, I'm sure, but oh gosh; oh goodness...

They didn't reboot Anti-Cosmo with sass AND they have a note here about the Pixies "potentially aligning their interests with tech magnate Dale Dimmadome..." Do you understand how close that gets us to H.P. coming back as his sassy, in-charge self... My most beloved character in the series, still snarky... I want him so much... I can taste it... He's one chump door away...

I won't get my hopes up since Season 2 isn't confirmed, but do u understand... Yes I know they might kill him and replace him with Sanderson and it'd shatter me, but do u understand how close we are to the funky guy who's haunted my mind every day for the last nearly 9 years...

Dale, I have GREAT NEWS for you... The prophecy... H.P. and Dale together... My 7-year dream fulfilled at last...

what are Ben Stein's rates and can we get him for another movie. I think Pixies & Dale would be the thing that does me in; it's never getting better than that... Can you even IMAGINE if we had Musical 2.0. for some inexplicable reason...... My favorite episode, oh goodness... Just let H.P. dunk on Anti-Cosmo again and I'm done; I'm out. retired. deceased.

It's SO over for y'all if they do bring back the Pixies. Unfollow me then because it's all I'll talk about for the rest of my life.

Hey wait a sec- I'VE BEEN ROBBED!!!! They WERE supposed to be here! Dale WAS supposed to be the finale antagonist!

?? I was RIGHT in my initial assumption that Dale had been set up for this plot. I'm totally justified for going into this finale thinking we were gonna fight Dale. That's... way funny, because I have a whole note over here I was gonna address when I'm done watching about how I don't feel like Dale stalking Hazel and all those notes about Fairy World left on his board even went anywhere...

Did they drop the "Dale stalking Hazel" plot point & this Pixie route because they figured Anti-Fairies would bait viewers in and Pixies wouldn't? So, like... did we only have that scene to upset Dev, and now we're not following through with the implications? :'D I am dev-astated on both accounts...

I probably would've done the same thing in their position (Write the finale for Anti-Fairies instead) because the Pixies aren't as well known (I think) and don't have the same opposite vibe as counterparts (which makes for dramatic storytelling), and maybe increased excited viewers increases chance of Season 2, but...

I've been robbed blind!! D: OH, this hurts so much more than when it was "just a rumor" to me that the Pixies were meant to appear "in the latter half of the season." skdljf, I shouldn't have looked at this; what've I done... PLEASE give us a Season 2 with Pixies in it... I'm beggin'... I've seen behind the curtain and I cannot be reborn in my innocence.

- Extremely funny to me that the Pixies not showing up implies they're not making a move because it hasn't been 37 years since their last big takeover plan. It's the OCD... - HEY WAIT A MINUTE, back at the start, I told y'all taking over Fairy World wasn't Anti-Cosmo's thing and it was actually H.P.'s... oh, this is FUNNY... I wish I had someone I could rub this in the face of. Oh my feathers, I'm SO glad I know H.P. and Anti-Cosmo well enough that I nailed them both like butterflies on display and didn't make a fool of myself [in my mind], sldkfj... #Not a fake fan... You don't spend 8 years writing 1 million words worth of 'fics about each of them without knowing your boys!!! I'm sorry, I just... This has been extremely funny to liveblog. I didn't peek ahead... I didn't know for sure if Anti-Cosmo was gonna be here to take over Fairy World - I really thought they'd reboot him to be confident and suave because why would they read him as an anxious coward?? nobody does that - but I sure as heck knew an Anti-Cosmo based closely on the OG wouldn't be leading the charge! He's a pushover <3 And the fact the Pixies were supposed to be here is KILLING me. Of course it was a plot meant for Pixies... because Anti-Cosmo doesn't do this and H.P. does. That's SO funny... I can't believe this... I'm dying, squirtle... I can't breathe... Please let me infodump about how despite everything I've said about H.P. going against the Pixie stereotype, he is actually implied to have OCD, and by his own admittance seems to want to take over Fairy World because Fairy World's disorder just drives him up a wall... I miss him... I lied about loving Anti-Cosmo; please come back, beloved... Please send him on a time travel vacation so he can come back feeling like he waited his obsessive 37 years... oh my glory, he's within my grasp... It's been 16 years... - The file name on this thing is "FOP Reboot Series Bible Draft 7..." oh, my boys lived up to 7 drafts... oh, my babies...

Oh my GOSH, they pitched an episode where Hazel's parents come over for dinner game night and Cosmo and Wanda are struggling to appear normal... That's the exact kind of episode I was sad we hadn't had yet back when I was saying post-Episode 1 Cosmo and Wanda were giving me sexy lamp vibes! I'm sad we didn't get this one.

Okay... I've seen too much. I won't read anything else in here and I'll save it for a future arc of liveblogging all these resources. Oh, this stings. The finale's cool and all, but I just miss my boys so much, and I want them to come back as their glorious, snarky, finger-gunning, drunk-on-the-job selves so a new generation can fall in love with them like I have, and they are SO CLOSE...... D: Nobody knows the trouble I've seen... nobody knows my

Ooh, what?

Big Daddy!? Mark Chang? Mama Cosma? Juandissimo?? omg-

IRVING?? They found you too?

No one is safe...

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blackenedsnow · 3 months ago

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Hi! I really like the way you write! I would like to make a request. I would love if you could write about P1 Dude cuddling and comforting the reader (his partner) about their struggles with trauma and psychosis. I feel like he would understand these things. The context would be that the person was completely unsupported most of their life and is trying to come to terms with these things, but is scared to open up about it.

held together

WARNING: Mentions of trauma and psychosis, discussion of mental health struggles

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader

NOTE: To anyone dealing with trauma and psychosis. I know it's incredibly tough, but you don’t have to face it alone. You deserve love, support, and understanding, just like anyone else. Stay strong—you’ve got this. Take care of yourself!

SUMMARY: You’ve always carried the weight of your trauma and psychosis alone. But Dude has always known more than he lets on.

The house was still, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the next room. The silence weighed on your chest as you sat on the couch, knees pulled up against your chest, staring blankly at the wall. You had been lost in your thoughts for what felt like hours, though time had become a blur.

Dude was there, seated beside you, but his presence was quiet, patient. You hadn’t said much—hadn’t been able to. The disarray in your mind made it hard to find the words. Years of trauma, of trying to survive without support, had left you feeling broken in ways you couldn’t explain.

“You’re real quiet tonight,” Dude finally said, his voice low and rough, but there was no edge to it. He wasn’t prying, just observing.

You hugged your knees tighter, your heart pounding in your chest. There were things you wanted to say—things you needed to say—but the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as broken, kept your lips sealed. You had spent so long keeping these parts of yourself hidden, terrified of how others would react if they knew.

Dude shifted beside you, leaning forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. He didn’t look at you directly, but you could feel his attention, his quiet support. He didn’t push you to talk. He never did.

Maybe that was why, of all people, you could almost imagine opening up to him.

“You know…” His voice broke the silence again, soft, contemplative. “I get it. What it’s like to be in your head, and not have anyone really get it. Most people… they can’t handle that shit.” He paused, glancing sideways at you. “But I’m not most people... you know..”

You looked at him then, your gaze meeting his. There was something in his eyes—something raw, real. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He knew. He understood in a way no one else ever had.

The weight of his words made your chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was something else—something that felt like a mix of relief and terror, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing that if you jumped, he would catch you.

But the jump was still terrifying.

“I… don’t know where to start,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, like he understood that, too. “You don’t have to. We’ll start wherever you’re ready.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s just… everything’s so messed up. My head… I can’t tell what’s real half the time. And it’s like… no one’s ever understood. They just… left.”

The words spilled out, shaky and raw, and you felt your chest tighten with anxiety. You’d never admitted any of this out loud before. Talking about the delusions, the paranoia, the way your mind twisted reality until you couldn’t trust anything or anyone… it was too much for most people.

But Dude didn’t flinch. He didn’t look at you like you were crazy or broken. Instead, he leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the couch, and let out a low breath.

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s like living in a bad dream you can’t wake up from. Everything’s off, and you’re just trying to hold it together while the world acts like you’re the one losing it.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes despite your efforts to hold them back. “I… I’ve never had anyone to talk to about it. I’m scared that… if I let it all out, I’ll lose it. And then… then what?”

Dude was silent for a moment, then he shifted closer, his hand resting on your knee—firm, grounding. “You’re not gonna lose it,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “Not with me here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His touch was solid, real, pulling you back from the edge of the spiral your thoughts were leading you down. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to fight your mind alone. He was there, steady and unshaken by the storm in your head.

“You don’t have to hold it together all the time,” he added, his thumb brushing lightly against your knee. “You’re allowed to let shit out. I’ve seen worse... I think.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. The way he said it—like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t afraid of your head—made something inside you ease, just a little.

“I don’t wanna scare you off,” you whispered, though part of you knew by now that he wouldn’t be scared away. Not by this.

Dude snorted softly. “If I was gonna get scared off, it would’ve happened a long time ago.” His voice softened, and he looked at you more closely. “You don’t have to hide that stuff from me. I’ve seen the worst of it, and I’m still here.”

There was a weight in his words, a history that you knew he carried too. He was saying it to comfort you—but he was also saying it because he lived it. You knew about his struggles, his own mind playing tricks on him, pushing him to the edge more times than he could count.

And yet, he was here. Still fighting. Still living.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, feeling a little lighter, like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to carry all of this alone anymore.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t enough to express everything you felt, but it was all you could manage for now.

He didn’t need more than that. Instead, he just gave your knee a reassuring squeeze and leaned back into the couch, pulling you gently into his side. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, firm and warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax into the comfort of someone who truly understood.

The noise in your mind didn’t disappear. It never would. But for now, with him beside you, it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

#postal #postal dude #postal 1997 #postal dude x reader #postal 1 #postal 1 dude #p1 dude #p1 dude x reader #x reader #oneshot #ask #request #fanfic

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estraeiea · 5 months ago

Text

new look

Quick Note: I haven't written anything in a while, so it may be a little rough to read, plus this is very self-indulgent and a little fluffy. Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader Summary: Noah has some grievances about his new haircut.

Noah doesn’t quite recognize himself in the mirror.

He knows it’s the hair, and although it was his choice, there’s this swirl of anxiety brewing somewhere in his stomach, making him question if this had been a good idea at all because—god dammit, what if you hate it?

He turns his head side to side, watching how his now short locks flop with every movement. It looks good, he looks good. And yet, he can’t shake off this image in his head: you forcing a smile just to tell him, “As long as you’re happy.” And yes, he knows he is being overly dramatic. It’s just a haircut, something that he had been planning on doing since the beginning of the year, and something he had brought up to you multiple times, along with screenshots of his inspiration behind it.

You did nod your head in approval when he asked you if you thought he could pull it off. But what if? What if you think he looks ridiculous and stupid and like a child, and what if you laugh about it behind his back, and what if—

Three knocks on the door startle him, pulling him away from the mini-nervous breakdown that had been stirring within the confines of the Chili’s bathroom.

“You good, Noah?” Matt calls from the other side. “Everyone’s here and we’re all about to order.”

Noah still doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror, but he answers anyway with a quick, “Yeah, heading out now.”

The restaurant is dead, save for the booth housing some of his close friends bickering and laughing over some dumb video Jolly found on the internet. Noah smiles once he spots you, tucked between Nick and Matt, and for a moment he forgets all about the stranger in the mirror. His heart picks up an extra beat, and suddenly the air in his lungs isn’t enough because you’re staring at him, wide eyed and with a silent gasp lost somewhere down your throat.

“Noah!” you scream, catching the attention of some of the few workers by the counter. “No, you did not! Who is this?”

He’s fighting down a sheepish smile and his head feels like it’s spinning because he is watching you climb out of the booth, stepping over Matt while he complains with a Hey, watch it, dumbass!

But you ignore that, and everyone else because Noah—your best friend, Noah—has cut his beautiful princess hair and now looks like someone who has killed, and will kill again. “Noah,” you beam at him.

“It looks a little weird, I know.”

“Nonononono,” you say, lifting your hand to brush your fingers against his hair. “You look so good! Oh my gosh, like a whole different person. See, I told you, you’d look hotter than Levi. Holy shit!”

“Like a model,” Jolly adds and Noah rolls his eyes.

You nod fervently. “This is going to take a while to get used to. You went from looking like some stoner dude to-to, well, this.”

“I feel like I should be offended,” Noah says, but truthfully there is a wave of relief rinsing the anxieties out of him. He is still Noah, you are still his best friend, and you guys are in the middle of a Chili’s restaurant on a Tuesday night to catch up on recent events.

He lets you admire him some more, feeling somewhat prideful about the unparalleled hold he has on you, and he does his best to answer the hundred questions you’re firing at him about his new look.

“Let’s take a picture,” you finally say, pushing your phone into Jolly’s hands. “I wanna remember this moment.”

Noah wants to laugh now, your sheer excitement is making him feel bubbly inside, as if he were drunk just from inhaling the expensive perfume you are wearing, the very same one he bought you not too long ago.

“I just cut my hair,” he smirks, throwing an arm around you as Jolly snaps the picture, “I’m still the same old Noah.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #my writing

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

The air in his apartment is getting staler, and his scalp is starting to ache.

Everything is going to fail, he thinks to himself, unhelpfully. He doesn’t have time to correct himself because he has time for nothing. He barely has time to breathe. People will be coming in less that two hours, and he’s only just begun decorating; at this rate people will arrive and everything will look barren and horrible and boring and of course no one will say it to his face but he can hear how muttered conversations will go on the way home, how everyone will think he’s —

The front doorknob rattles. Lance gasps, a great, heaving breath forcing its way in and out of his lungs, realizing for the first time his hands are trembling too much to hang the tinsel correctly.

“Lance?” calls a voice, familiar and soft and raspy from years of cigarette smoke. “You in the kitchen?”

Lance finds himself frozen in place. His mind has gone completely blank, and he’s become a statue; thoughtless, still, unblinking, unable to process. As if someone has hooked him up to a remote and pressed pause.

Quiet sounds of boots unlacing echo the empty apartment, followed by socked footsteps. Keith appears round the bend of the front hallway, eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pursed.

“…Lance.”

“Everything is falling apart,” Lance blurts. He twitches suddenly, stiff muscles spasming, and the sudden movement rocks the rickety footstool under him. Quick hands flit out to grip his arms before he falls, steadying him on the ground with a soft, “Woah, dude.”

For several moments the only sound is the synched billowing of their breathing. Keith’s hands slide down his biceps to rest on his elbows, squeezing gently. Slowly, dragging through molasses, Lance’s heart begins to slow.

“You’re freaking out,” Keith says. “There is no need to freak out. Take a breather.”

“I don’t have time for any of this,” Lance says, heartbeat picking up again. “I barely finished the last of the food fifteen minutes ago, decorations aren’t out yet, there’s flour all over my clothes and my face is a mess and I haven’t washed my hair —”

Darting out faster than Lance can track, Keith’s hands come to rest on Lance’s cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes — rough, warm, startling. Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Keith smiles back, quickly, widely, crookedly; breathtaking. His hair is twisted back neatly, thick and gorgeous, and festive red sparkles line his eyes. Pretty red stones glitter in his ears to match. The gold bands of his thumb rings are cool against Lance’s cheeks, and the chain he got from his mother rests delicately over black knit fabric. The high-cut neckline of his sweater compliments his frame nicely. His jeans are the only pair he has without rips — a pair Lance forced him to get last time they were shopping together.

The air punches right out of Lance’s lungs, and the last of his worries with it. Keith tucks a curl behind his ear, lingering.

“Go shower and get dressed,” he urges, indigo eyes dark and imploring. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lance breathes. He doesn’t move.

Keith smiles. He pulls Lance’s face down at the same time that he stands up on his tiptoes, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips press together softly, one, two, three, and then he pulls away.

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers come up to brush the swell of his lip. “What was that for?”

Keith’s eyes flick up at the doorway. Amusement dances across his expression.

Mistletoe, green and white and fragrant, hangs delicately from the door frame.

“Oh,” says Lance, flushing. He remembers, abruptly, the stepladder and falling into Keith’s arms. He becomes hyperaware of the bareness of the rest of the apartment, hardly lived in one month.

“Lance,” Keith says again, noticing the shift in his expression. He slides a hand down and pats his hip. “Go, you walking mess of anxiety. I got this. Get fixed up. Everything will be fine.”

Lance closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and nods. It’s too late, now. Whether or not things get finished is irrelevant — he can’t very well host a Christmas party in sweatpants and his grossest, most threadbare hoodie. Whatever Keith can manage while he showers will have to be enough.

He rushes off to his room, tearing off his clothes the second the door locks behind him, practically throwing himself under the stream without bothering to wait for it to heat. He rushes through his routine faster than he maybe ever has in his life, toweling off so roughly the first two layers of his skin go with it, and buzzing around his closet like a horde of wasps on a field of decaying grapes.

There is Nothing to wear. Because of course there isn’t. The outfit he’d picked last night suddenly seems inadequate, and most of his other stuff is still boxed up, so he doesn’t even have the time to go digging. Eventually he just throws on what he’d planned and tells himself to get over it.

Forty-five minutes have passed, by the time he steps out of his bedroom, and the state of his apartment makes him gasp.

String lights are hung delicately along the walls and wrapped around his small tree. Ornaments and decorations sit artistically on every surface, as if each placement was deliberated and perfected. Paper snowflakes, even, that Lance had made in a fit of procrastination to avoid work weeks ago, are hung from the ceiling. Keith stands on the same footstool Lance tumbled from earlier, hanging a few more.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out. “Oh my God.”

His friend shoots him a grin. “What, surprised? I told you I’d handle it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Lance swallows as the words come out on reflex, heavier than he’d ever usually let them. “I just.” He looks pointedly away from where Keith stretches his arms above him, thin paper held delicately between his thick fingers, sweater raising to show a strip of pale skin. “I appreciate it, is all. Turns out you do have some taste, Mullet.”

“Asshole,” Keith huffs.

But he’s smiling.

They spend the next twenty minutes in comfortable silence, putting up the last of the decorations and plating up the last of the food. Lance doesn’t need to say, I should have asked for help from the beginning. Doesn’t need to say, I’ve missed being close to everyone, being a real adult is hard, finally finishing school and growing into a new phase of adulthood, away from all the people I’ve grown up with, is hard. I had to prove I’m handling it. Doesn’t bother admitting, I couldn’t have done it on my own. Thank you for knowing me enough to come even if I couldn’t ask.

Keith brushes his hand on the small of his back as he walks by. Lance smiles, shy and pleased, and sinks into the comfort of Keith knowing, of Keith knowing him; of the proof of their familiarity despite all the new changes. He sighs, long and silent and heavy, something settling in his bones.

When the doorbell rings, and the rest of his friends start pouring in, he’s ready for them.

———

Hours later his giggly and red-cheeked and a little bit tipsy. Pidge brought bottles of liquor and Allura brought novelty shot glasses, and the rest of that story wrote itself. Lance lost count somewhere between Hunk slicing up the honeyed ham he brought and Shiro busting out the Twister. Cheesy Christmas songs have been looping for hours on Veronica’s CD player, and the air smells of plátanos a sweet-smelling incense Adam pulled out, and Lance is drunk on more than just the booze.

“The place looks great!” shouts Shiro, not particularly because it’s loud in here. He looks pretty red-cheeked, too, glass of wine tucked protectively to his chest. Adam watched him in amusement, arms half-raised in preparation for his clumsiness.

“Keith helped,” Lance admits, just as loud. Their shouted conversation draws teasing glances from the rest of their friends, but for once Lance isn’t self-conscious of the stares on him.

They’re drunk. It’s Christmas. Who cares?

“Speaking of, where is Keith?”

Lance frowns. He blinks some of the dizziness out of his eyes — he truly needs to stop walking around, there was way more rum in that daiquiri than he thought, typical Matt — and scans the crowd of people shoved into his tiny apartment. He would recognize that mullet anywhere and from any angle, and it is not currently among the masses.

“Hm,” he says out loud, and wobbles off.

The first place he checks is his bedroom. It’s locked, but he knows Keith can pick a lock and also has no qualms about picking the lock for Lance’s bedroom, because he was raised by wolves. He’s not in there, though, so Lance pivots to checking the bathroom — occupied by Kinkade and Rizavi who are busy sucking face — and the weird little linen closet tucked in a random alcove, which is empty. Keith is, strangely, nowhere to be found, but he couldn’t’ve just — left, right? He would have said goodbye.

Lance pouts. He hopes he would have, because Lance’s emotions are Compromised right now, okay, and if he gets sad he’s going to get sad for real. And Keith leaving just like that will, indeed, make him sad as shit.

“I need t’clear my head,” he mumbles to himself. He pushes through the tight circle Allura, Pidge, and Veronica have formed — he does not want to know, it might be actual witchcraft knowing them — to make his way to Hunk, tugging on his sleeve to pull his attention away from Shay.

“‘M gonna go get air.”

“Don’t die,” Hunks says. Lance nods, moving to stumble away, but Hunk grabs his sleeve and tugs him back. “No, wait, drink this, buddy. Else you’re going to walk into a wall and we’re going to end up in the ER on Christmas again.”

Lance dutifully chugs the three separate glasses of water Hunk hands him, realizing suddenly that he’s parched. By the end of them and also a banana Hunk has him eat, his head has miraculously stopped spinning.

“Hunk,” he says in total seriousness, “I love you. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.”

Hunk rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. “I know, you doofus. Begone.”

Lance snickers and heeds his command. As he closes the apartment door behind him, shutting out the noise with it, he breathes a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he’d been getting, as much as he’d been having fun.

He understands, immediately, where Keith has gone. He huffs a smile.

“Goober,” he says around a smile, and jogs to the stairwell.

———

A sobering seven flights later, he pushes open the door to the roof, panting breaths turning to steam in the frosty air.

“You are elusive, you fucker.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling in that quick way he does. “And you’re tipsy.”

“Nuh uh! Hunk made me drink water!”

“Right, and that undoes the six shots you took when Pidge dared you.”

“Obviously.”

Keith laughs, a little, and Lance preens like he’s won the whole lottery. Keith most definitely notices. Lance can’t bring himself to care.

“C’mon, let’s sit somewhere not so close to the edge. Knowing your shit luck you’ll go careening over the edge and I’ll have to jump after your dumb ass.”

Ignoring how that makes his heart pound, Lance shoots back, “That wouldn’t solve anything, stupid, we’d just both be dead.”

“A very Merry Christmas to us both, then.”

Keith finally finds a spot on the ground that’s mostly clear of snow and only a little wet. He plops himself down. Lance grimaces, looking down at his expensive and shimmery black slacks before sitting down beside him.

“You good?” Lance asks after a moment.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah, it was just getting to be a lot in there.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re basically a cat in human form. Surprised you didn’t bite anyone on your way out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Keith looks over, eyebrows raised. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“That was very transparent, you know.”

Lance shrugs, not bothering to hide his own smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. Not my fault I’m thinking about it.”

“You think I kissed you to shut you up?”

“A little.”

Keith holds his gaze, challenging. Lance crosses his eyes. Keith snorts, punching him in the shoulder.

Heh. Success.

“I didn’t kiss you to shut you up, you goober. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“…Did you maybe want to again?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn for his smile to turn shy, for a slight flush to rise on his cheeks. Lance’s own cheeks hurt from grinning.

“No mistletoe up here. Not sure I have an excuse this time.”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lance digs in his pockets until he finds the little sprig, plucked from when he and Hunk were caught under the doorway sometime after shot number five. He holds it up between them.

Keith’s smile grows. “You really are a genuine actual goober.”

“You seem to like it,” Lance says cheekily.

“It’s fine, I guess. If I had to live with it.”

“Mhm.” Keith’s hand has snaked its way around Lance’s neck. Lance’s own hands are planted firmly on the ground between them, keeping him balanced as he leans closer, closer, closer. “Is that the case.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and then he doesn’t bother with anything else, closing the distance between them. “Merry Christmas.”

Lance sighs into his mouth, tilting his head as their mouths move, as Keith’s long eyelashes tickle his cheek. Merry Christmas, indeed.

———

based on this art by @mothmanavenue

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fadedin2u · 1 year ago

Note

hihi, not sure if ur taking in requests but could u write a fic where ellie comforts reader?? or basically js a fluff fic/ one shot? theres not enough fluff on here and im sad i need something happy😭😭😭

yuppppp

content: you get sick, and ellie takes care of you.

warning: reader vomits (sick asf), reader is referred to as ellie’s “girlfriend”, but otherwise not specified afab or not

notes: i love a good hurt/comfort drabble and LOVE writing fluff so if anyone has any fluff requests i will write them!! also this is fairly short so oops

———

today has been hell.

you spent the day sick as hell, alone, in ellie’s little garage while ellie was on patrol. she left you in the wee hours of the morning, groaning as she pulled herself out of the warm cocoon of her bed with you, haphazardly throwing on whatever clothes (clean or not) that were in the nearby vicinity. when she got up and unknowingly woke you up as she stumbled around the room, you could feel that your stomach felt off, but you were too exhausted to do anything other than fall back asleep.

about an hour later, with sunlight streaming through the dusty window panes, you awoke again, this time due to the lurching of your stomach. you leapt out of ellie’s bed, running to her small bathroom, where you promptly emptied the minimal contents of your stomach into the toilet’s basin. you heaved a few more times until you were sure that you weren’t at risk of throwing anything else up and flushed the toilet. once you brushed your teeth with the toothbrush you keep at ellie’s, you crawled back into her bed.

even though you were no longer actively nauseous, your stomach wouldn’t settle, your body wracked with chills. you knew that you should probably go back to your own home, sleep in your own bed to not put ellie at risk of catching anything, but the thought of braving the winter snow in your state was enough to keep you where you were. you knew that you had stable duty that day, but you couldn’t even imagine getting out of bed to let your supervisor know that you weren’t fit to work today.

your eyes and body felt unimaginably heavy, and soon, you feel back into a restless sleep.

——

“babe? you feeling okay?”

you awoke to a cold hand on your forehead, and you slowly blinked your eyes open, slowly focusing on ellie’s freckled face frowning down at you.

when ellie had gotten back from a long, boring patrol, maria approached her, letting ellie know that her girlfriend had been a no-show for stable duty that morning. maria seemed more concerned than anything, knowing that you weren’t the type to skip out on work without at least a notice of some sort.

ellie’s stomach filled with anxiety and she quickly made her way to your small home, where she found an absence of you. dread coursed through her veins as she trudged quickly through the snow, back to her own garage, where she was met with relief when she saw you curled up in her sheets.

you weren’t normally the type to sleep in until 3pm, so as soon as she saw you still asleep, she knew something must be up, and when she felt the scalding heat of the skin on your forehead, she sighed.

“you’re burning up, sweetheart,” ellie murmurs, her brows furrowed as she sits on the bed next to you.

you wince, your voice rough with sleep, “yeah, that makes sense.”

“how are you feeling?”

“i feel like shit… i threw up in your toilet, but i promise i’ll clean it soon.”

ellie frowns more, “dude. don’t worry about cleaning my toilet right now. have you had anything to eat or drink?”

you shake your head and she sighs.

“i swear, i cant leave you alone for longer than two seconds or all hell breaks loose,” ellie teases, her thumb stroking your warm cheek before she stands up, “stay here.”

you huff a laugh, unable to entertain the idea of rolling over, let alone leaving. “sounds like a plan.”

ellie quickly goes to first get you a glass of water, watching you as you drink some of it, before jolting inside joel’s house, raiding his kitchen for some leftover soup stored in the fridge. she puts it on the stove to heat up, and within 15 minutes, she’s carrying a warm bowl of minestrone soup into her garage. she helps you sit up and places the soup on your lap.

you smile gratefully up at her after eating a spoonful, “thanks els, seriously. i didn’t want you to have to come back from patrol and baby me but-“

ellie cuts you off, sitting down on her bed against your side, “i’m happy to do it. i want you feeling good, and you’d do the same for me.”

you give her a look, “you wouldn’t let me do the same for you.”

ellie shrugs, “that’s because i’m an asshole. you’re not, so let me take care of you, okay?”

you roll your eyes, “oh my god… fine. thank you.”

you eat in silence while ellie leans against you, her arm wrapped around you and pulling her more into her side. when you’ve eaten as much as you can, ellie takes the bowl and places it on her bedside table.

“can i hold you for a bit?” ellie asks softly, her hand smoothing over your back.

“you’re gonna get sick, els…” you protest, but you’re already leaning into her more.

ellie scoffs, lying down with you and holding you close against her side, still rubbing your back. “my immune system is impenetrable, i swear. your weak ass flu germs can’t do shit.”

you laugh a little, your leg tossed over her body as you nuzzle into the crook of her neck. “so are you calling my immune system weak then?”

ellie gives you a cocky smile, “most definitely. puny, even.”

you punch her side softly, and she jolts, groaning, “ow! hey, i’m just stating facts!”

you roll you eyes again, giggling a little before closing your eyes and melting into the warmth of her body. “yeah, sure. we’ll see about that.”

ellie smiles to herself softly, content. “get some sleep, your body probably needs all the rest it can get.”

you hum in agreement and yawn, “yeah, definitely…”

ellie keeps tracing shapes and letters into your back as you fall back asleep, and eventually, lulled by your slightly feverish warmth, she falls asleep as well.

in the morning, when ellie is groaning about her own stomach hurting as she gets ready to tell maria she won’t be able to make it to patrol, you laugh to yourself and say nothing. this time, at least, she actually lets you help take care of her in return.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #anon ask #rose responds #tlou2 #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #rose writes

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nectardaddy · 6 months ago

Text

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

chapter seven | it's a party [ ✎ ]

masterlist

ignore timestamps

Putting the car in park, and quickly sending out an I'm here text, he swore he found himself spiraling. Leg bouncing in a methodical rhythm as anxiety got the best of him, and brown eyes flickered to the door just outside his car window.

"Man, I think I'm already drunk," a loud voice from the back of the car rang out, followed by an, even more obnoxious, laugh.

"We're not even there yet! If you puke in this car with me in it, Bo, I'll kill you," the man next to him grumbled before shifting his eyes out the window. "Holy shit, pipsqueak, is that her?"

Seeing the frame of a woman exit the door he was previously looking at, he couldn't help but grin. A smile that pulled hard on his cheeks before looking back at his friends, "yeah!"

"My man can pull!" The loud voice returning in a cheer as he leaned, far over, Oikawa to look out the window. "Dude, you weren't kidding! She's pretty!" Before he could say anything else, he was shoved off harshly, followed by a rough "get off of me!"

"I know!" Matching the energy of Bokuto as he turned his head to look at her, "I can't believe she said yes! This is like the greatest day of my life!"

But the loud voices abruptly stopped as the car door opened and shut, the woman getting in with a smile and a soft chuckle. "I didn't know this was the greatest day of your life. I thought I was pretty boring, honestly."

Hinata's cheeks burned at her words, and his friend's laughter that followed made him sink in his seat. "You heard that?" Hands finding themselves in auburn hair as he let out a nervous chuckle.

"You were yelling, it was hard not to. But thanks." Giving him a small smile that made his heart skip a beat.

A simple statement that made Oikawa cackle with laughter at his roommate's reaction. "Holy shit! Shrimpy look at your face!"

"Shrimpy?" She asked, a laugh leaving her lips as she looked back at the brunette, "I've heard better insults from middle schoolers."

"Oh my god! Sho, she's fucking awesome!" Bokuto grabbed his friend's shoulders from behind, reaching from the backseat and shaking him. Making the man laugh in return, anxiety washing away from Bokuto's strong personality. Stark hazel eyes flickered over to her, a drunken smile upon his lips. "Tonight is gonna' be so much fun!"

One single sentence held the tone for the evening.

Brown eyes watched as she laughed at every joke, smile at him like no one else was in the room, and take his hand when he offered to dance with her - and, oh my god, were the only words in his head when she did.

Taking in every inch of her in awe was an understatement - he was a doomed man. The way she flourished in conversation with him - speaking of things that interested her, silly memories from the past, right down to outrageous stories from school - made him all but reel.

He swore he fell hard for her that night, skinning his own knees from the force of it. Finding himself walking her to her door by the end of the evening, out of generosity, and for the sole fact he simply couldn't bring himself to see the night end. He hoped this wasn't an outlandish fairytale, where she would whisk herself off at the stoke of midnight.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" The question slipping easily from his tongue just as her hand reached for the doorknob; but he watched as his hopes slipped right through his fingers as her smile faltered.

"Teaching," she said with a wry smile. "And after I'm probably gonna' sleep for the rest of the day, honestly." At least she was honest, he thought.

"Right, I'm sorry." Giving her a nervous chuckle in response after, "I did keep you out pretty late."

"Don't worry about it, I had a lot of fun."

"So did I."

It wasn't as if he expected anything from the woman, he wholeheartedly didn't even believe she would agree to going today anyway. But he felt his heart strings pull as she opened her door, stopping in the door way to give him a smile. "I'll text you, ok?"

"Alright, have a good night."

"Have a good night, shrimpy."

And just like that, she closed the door, leaving him with a silly grin on his lips.

I'm sorry for having one measly screenshot - I got really into the writing

but I am so in love with this man!!

yn changed his contact name to shrimpy <3

hinata can fucking dance oh my god

he does that really cheesy shit where he took her hand and spun her around (giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about it he's adorable)

he's down horrendously now - he doesn't care if it's been a few days

both bokuto and oikawa were passed tf out in his car and he had to shake them awake when they got home

yn was very tempted to wake up suga and tell him about how the night went

taglist under cut

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd

#haiykuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! smau #hq x reader #hq smau #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #shoyo hinata x reader #hq hinata #hinata smau #series: notebook paper

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yourlocalmerchgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Is it ok if I call you mine? Part One

Part 2 Part 3

Soft!Joel Miller x Neurodivergent/ anxious F!reader

Summary: When Joel sees you having a hard time outside of a concert he tries to make sure your alright when he scares you on accident he can’t stop thinking about if your actually ok or not until a couple weeks later he runs into you. Both of you let down your guard and form a unlikely bond

Soft! Joel miller x neurodivergent reader AU (outbreak never happens)

Warnings: soft Joel, concerned Joel, protective Joel, neurodivergent, audio overstimulation, anxiety, self inflicted angst. Best friend Tommy, falling in love. Acceptance, low self esteem.

A/N: I’m so nervous to start posting this story. This story is very near and dear to me and I’ve been pouring my heart into this story, I hope you all like going on this journey with me. This will be a multi part story.

There’s not a lot of descriptors about reader other than eye color but they can easily be changed.

You didn’t want to be this way- in fact you hated it at times if you’re honest with yourself. Sometimes you could see it coming. Other times, one minute you were fine the next your brain felt like it was drowning out at sea while your body looked for it in a flimsy life raft.

You just wanted to enjoy your night out with your best friend seeing your favorite band, you had felt really good today.

As you sat there waiting for the show to start the chatter of the group sitting behind you became more intense and you started zoning out, trying to focus on anything but as their chatter turned into them shouting back and forth over each other, it became to much. Everything sounding jumbled, you felt lightheaded as if your head was swimming, the overwhelming anxious feeling taking over your body.

“I-I ne-need get out of here and get some air” you shouted abruptly standing, grabbing your seat to steady yourself as the dizzys worsened.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Stacey asked concerned, she knew all to well how awful things could get for you sometimes.

“No…no I’ll be ok, I just need to breathe, need some air. I’ll text you if I need you”

Once outside you slid down, sitting on the sidewalk under the awning of the venue, the small round lights that lined the bottom of the awning offering just enough light in the night sky. You sat with your back against the building, your knees pulled up to your chest as you felt the cold fall air fill you lungs, easing the weight on your chest slightly. God the air felt good on your over heated face.

“Y’alright miss?” You hear an unfamiliar muffled voice. There’s other people around surly he’s talking to someone else.

“Miss y’alright?” You hear the soft husky drawl. You try to ignore it. Please be talking to someone else.

“Darlin’ y’alright” you hear with a light hand on your shoulder. Fuck. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as your gaze locks with a pair of big brown eyes. Flinching away from him you snarl “dude I’m fine”

“Sorry didn’t mean to startle ya, was just concerned.”

You don’t say anything back, you barely even acknowledge him.

“I-I’m Joel” He offers with a kind smile

“Look Joel I’m sure you’re nice and all but I clearly am having a rough go and don’t want to be bothered” you snapped back standing quickly and hurrying back inside the venue.

“Sorry Darlin” he softly called after you.

“What was that about?” Tommy asks Joel, only witnessing the tail end of what was happening.

Joel lets out a defeated sigh “There was this girl curled up sitting on the ground, clearly going through something, I asked her if she was a’lright. I think I scared her when I touched her shoulder, she got up angry and ran inside.”

Once inside you run into the bathroom rubbing cold water on your face, you feel a rush of instant guilt. You hated the way you came off to people sometimes, your tone coming off harsh and aggressive, often not matching how you were feeling. People would often tell you you needed to control your emotions or regulate your tone but you truly couldn’t control it, it’s just how you were. You weren’t good with people, you didn’t like small talk never really knowing how to engage in it, you often either shared to much to fast or you’d say nothing at all, mostly just observing people, just being in the background of most situations and that was when you were invited to gatherings which wasn’t very often.

“There was this guy outside tonight”

“Ok…”

“He was trying to check on me, to make sure I was alright and I snapped at him, I was actually pretty rude to him”

“I feel so bad” you said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t let it bother you, I’m sure he didn’t think much of it” Stacey said trying to ease your mind.

“Joel…he said his name was Joel.”

————————————————————

“Shit…I-I think that’s the guy from the other night” you say looking up from your sandwich.

Stacey whips around “Who Joel? The guy from outside the show? Which one is he?”

“The one with the scruffy beard, and messy hair standing with the guy with the dark curly hair at the counter, I think he was there too.”

“He’s handsome, you didn’t tell me he was so handsome”

“Well I didn’t realize it either, I was to busy being a bitch to notice” you say nervous laughing.

“I’m sure he won’t remember me, but I still feel so guilty”

You have no idea yet how wrong you are.

Joel notices you instantly as him and Tommy are looking for a table.

The feeling of relief washing over him seeing that your ok. He hadn’t stopped wondering, no he hadn’t stopped worrying if you were ok.

Tommy noticed Joel acting nervously, continuously looking over Tommy’s shoulder at something or someone.

“Y’alright man? Y’acting weird, w’do you keep looking at?”

“It’s the girl, the one from the other night at the show”

Tommy turns to see you and Stacey recognizing you from the other night.

“I’ve seen her friend here before, think she’s seeing the guy that runs the place”

“But the girl, she looks like she’s alright” Tommy says softly, turning to see Joel’s smile at his comment.

“And I know you been worryin’”

“Huh? It that obvious?”

“I’m your brother I know things, also ya keep mentioning it, why don’t ya go talk to her?”

“M’pretty sure I scared the shit outta her, she ain’t want me talkin’ to her.”

“I-I should apologize to him”

“So let’s go talk to them”

“Ugh your not supposed to agree” you laugh.

“You keep talking about feeling bad, and I know you, you’ll just keep thinking about it, if it would make you feel better let’s go talk to him”

Stacey’s surprised when you get up from the table slowly and nervously start walking over and she follows behind.

“Ah shit, there…she’s coming over here I think” Joel says nervously

“I-I’m sorry this is kind of random but are…are you Joel?” You ask as you nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Yes ma’am”

Tommy watch’s your body language intently, understanding more about you than you even realize or notice.

“I ah, you probably don’t remember me”

“Course I do”

“You do?” You ask completely shocked

“Why wouldn’t I? You were outside of the State theater, was worried about you”

“A-bout that, I’m so sorry for snapping and being so rude to you. I know you were just trying to make sure I was alright. I was just having a rough go and I’m just um not very good with people sometimes an-d my tone doesn’t um ugh it doesn’t matter….I just wanted to apologize.” You said, getting more nervous and flustered the more you talked. Damnit why am I like this? Why the hell is he gonna care about my problems just stop talking.

But it did matter, it mattered to him. He wanted you to go on, to hear about what was bothering you. He wanted to be able to ease your mind, to make you feel better.

Tommy noticed your body language, how anxious you were, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt while looking at the ground. He knew this feeling all to well, anxiety hadn’t been his friend since he’d came back from the army and seeing Joel go through it when he lost Sarah he just wanted to make you feel comfortable.

“Well since my brothers not going to introduce us, I’m Tommy. What’s your name darlin’?” Tommy says holding out his hand to shake.

“ shit..sorry I’m (y/n) and this is Stacey.”

You turn to Joel, your hand out stretched.

“It’s nice to meet you properly Joel” you say offering him the warmest smile. You just had this feeling about them, about him in particular that you couldn’t describe.

Joel is surprised but moved by your action, taking your hand offering you the kindest smile back. He takes this opportunity to study every part of your face, as if he was committing it to memory.

“Y’all have fun at the show?” Joel asks

“Oh were you guys there for the show too?” You ask, your face turning the lightest shade of red.

“ well, I dragged him there” Tommy says gesturing to Joel chuckling

“But yea we were there”

“Yeah… umm other than my episode we had a blast…they’re my favorite band”

“Hey! No way they’re mine too” Tommy exclaims “my first time seeing them”

“I’ve seen them 3 times, they’ve been great every time” you exclaim.

Joel watches as your body language relaxes a little bit. He takes pride in him and Tommy being able to ease you even if just for a moment.

“Y’guys want join us?”

You’re immediately flustered by the question, feeling like you’ve lingered too long making them feel like they had to ask.

“Oh no that’s ok, I don’t want to bother you guys, you’re clearly on your lunch break.” Your eyes trained on your shoes, pulling at your shirt. Fuck you hated being like this- an awkward overthinking mess as people would tell you.

Pulling your gaze back up to Joel with a nervous smile on your face.

“I just wanted to apologize, sorry to bother you guys”

Before either of them could say anything you turn on you heels and hurried out the door.

“Wait (y/n)” Joel calls after you calmly, not waiting to scare you.

As you and Stacey turn around you see Joel smiling at you as Tommy comes out of the cafe behind him.

“Here I ah wanted to give your our numbers” Joel says rubbing the back of his neck.

You reach out taking the piece of paper.

“No pressure just if you ever wanted t’talk”

“I’m not a fan of talking on the phone, makes me anxious but I-I’ll text you sometime if that’d be ok?”

“Yea, that’d be more than ok darlin’”

Joel wasn’t much of a texter but he’d do anything you’d be comfortable with if it meant he’d get to talk to you again.

Y/n: Hey! It’s y/n I saw our favorite band is coming back in a couple months and playing in Dallas!

As soon as you sent the text to Tommy you regret it. What if it came on to strong? what if he thinks I’m asking him to go? Who am I even to think he wants to talk to me?

Your thoughts only spiraled like water going down the drain the more that time passed with out hearing from him.

Tommy: Hey sweetheart! Sorry for the late response, we had a crazy day at work today.

Tommy: shit no way, we should all go, I’ll talk to Joel about it and snag tickets for everyone.

“ oh shit y/n texted me saying the bands coming back in a couple months, playin’ Dallas. We should all go, have a road trip down there.”

“Oh…s’he texted you?”

“Oh shit sorry have ya not heard from her?”

“No, no it’s ok. I’ll go though if she wants to go”

“I’m sure you’ll hear from her Joel, she only texted me about the show”

Joel’s just relaxing or trying to relax, because let’s face it he’s never been very good at just taking a breath and resting without trying to do a 100 other things at once.

He hears his phone vibrate on the night stand, caught off guard by the butterflies he feels before reaching for his phone. He thinks it must be you, Tommy’s downstairs the only other person that would text him.

His smile reaches his eyes before he can even think about stoping it when he sees it is infect you.

Y/A: Hey! It’s y/n. I’m sure Tommy told you I messaged him. Hopefully you don’t think I didn’t want to talk to you, was honestly working up the courage to message you.

Fuck…what the hell am I doing?! Did I just say that.

Y/N: Jesus…I’m so sorry that was awkward haha

God. You were so cute. Joel just found you so endearing as he finds himself completely taken by you.

Joel: Hey darlin. No worries at all. Im happy to hear from ya.

Joel: how’s your night goin? Hopefully it’s treating you well.

Y/N: it’s going good, I’m just curled up in bed watching one of my comfort shows.

You and Joel went back and forth for a couple hours, chatting and unknowingly making each other light up and feel comfortable with each other.

Joel: I don’t want to put any pressure on you so don’t feel like ya have too…but would you want to grab a coffee together tomorrow? That is if ya don’t already have plans.

You’re torn, on one hand you’re overjoyed that he asked you out to coffee and on the other hand you can’t help but feel like he feels like he has too, that you might of come on too strong. But here goes nothing…

Y/N: Sure, that would be really nice. I’d like that.

You hit send before you can think about it too much.

Y/N: if it’s ok could we go later in the day after lunch? It’s less hectic and pretty quiet around then.

Joel doesn’t give why you asked to meet then much thought, because the reason didn’t matter. He wanted to do what ever you were comfortable with and if that’s when you were comfortable going then that’s what he’d do.

Joel: Sure that sounds good to me darlin. I’ll meet you there.

—————————————————————

As you make your walk over to the cafe you can’t help but wonder if this is a joke, if Joel actually wants to hang out? If he asked because he felt like he had too.

You wish you didn’t have to say you used to it but you are. You’re used to people just putting up with you, inviting you some where because they feel obligated too, only hearing from them when they want something from you. The amount of times you misjudged a friendship or relationship was staggering. You had no idea how wrong you were.

The longer Joel sits at the cafe, the more nervous he becomes. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this early or nervous for anything in his life, not even the day Sarah was born. Part of him is worried you won’t come, that he made you feel like you had to say yes. The other part of him is over joyed at the idea that you wanted to come, that you might actually want to spend time with him.

Joel hears the baristas greet someone excitedly. When he hears the voice that greets them back he knows it’s you, your voice already burned into him memory. Your tone is bubbly and happy today, he can hear the smile in you’re voice before he even sees you. When you finally come into view, his heart melts when he sees your smile, your big beautiful smile.

You glance over meeting his gaze, giving him a little wavy and smile as you make you way over to him.

I can’t believe he’s here already and here I was worried about being to early.

Joel hopes you don’t notice the way he wipes his sweaty palms on his pants as he stands to greet you.

“Hey sweetheart good t’see ya”

“You..you actually came. It’s so good to see you too” you say offering him the same smile you walked in with.

“Is it alright t’give ya a hug?”

“Yes of course” you said after hesitating briefly.

Joel wraps you into the most comforting hug you’ve ever had. Coming from someone who doesn’t like to be touched or have people in their personal space abruptly. But there was something different about Joel, something comforting and natural that you couldn’t quiet out your finger on.

Joel pulls away when it sinks in what you said.

“Wait…why wouldn’t I show up?”

You feel embarrassed that you said it out loud, but you also wanted to be honest with him.

“It just wouldn’t be the first time I misjudged someone inviting me somewhere or the first time someone forgot that we had plans.”

“I’m just a lot for most people and it’s ok, I’m used to it”

“You shouldn’t h’ave to be used to that sweetheart but quiet frankly I think your awesome, to awesome to be wantin’ to hang out with me so I thought you might not come.”

You and Joel sit and talk for a couple of hours at the cafe. You talk to him about some of your disorders related to being neurodivergent and about your life before coming to Texas. Joel listens intently, letting you talk freely without interruptions or judgements and doesn’t press for more info than you’re comfortable telling him. The only questions he ask are about things he can do to you help when things get bad or how he could offer support if you needed it. Almost as if he’s saying he wants to spend more time with you with saying it.

Joel tells you more about himself, the contractor business that him and Tommy run and about Sarah, his daughter who he lost a few years ago. Joel is surprised how intently you listen to him, how he has your undivided attention. He’s never had anyone other than Tommy listen to him in that way, free of judgement and full of compassion. Never pressing him to share more than he was comfortable with.

“Hey I-I I don’t if you and Stacey have plans tonight but Tommy and I are gonna have a movie night and get some pizza if you guys would like to come.”

“Oh I think Stacey and Jared are having a date night tonight”

“Well you’re still welcome, we’d love to have you”

“Don’t feel like you have to invite me, I wouldn’t want to impose on your night.”

“Not at all, you could never impose. I’m having a nice time with you and honestly would love to spend more time with you. I know Tommy would love to have you too.”

Joel senses your hesitation, but not because you don’t feel comfortable it’s because your worried you will be in the way, like you’d be intruding where you weren’t wanted.

“As long as it’s ok I would love too, honestly I’d like to spend more time with you too” you say offering a warm smile.

Joel’s hand ghosts over your lower back as you guys leave the cafe. Normally you’d be put off by this or flinch away but something about Joel was immediately comforting.

“Oh I walked here so I just need to go grab my car, we live around the corner”

“If you’re comfortable with it I could drive us and bring you home later.”

“Ok” you say smiling warmly, letting him know your comfortable with that.

“Let me just text Stacey so she’s not freaked out when my cars there but I’m not.” You say as you guys walk to his truck, his hand still lightly on your lower back as you walk.

“ here let me see your phone” he says leaning against his truck.

“I typed my address into your message for her to have, that way you can feel safe knowing she’s knows exactly where you are.” He says handing you back your phone.

His gesture speaks volumes to you, it’s almost as if he can read your mind.

“Thank you….I’ve honestly never had anyone do something like that for me before.”

“Here let me see your phone, I’ll give you her number incase you ever need to get ahold of her.”

“Was gonna ask but I didn’t want you to think I was being weird”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you make your away across town to Joel’s house, truly just enjoying each others company.

When you guys arrive at Joel’s he gets out and runs over to the passenger door opening it for you.

“Tommy! We have company for movie night tonight” Joel calls out as you enter the house.

Joel barely gets the words out before you hear Tommy’s foots steps padding down the hall.

“Hey there sweetheart! Happy to have ya here” Tommy exclaims as he pulls you into a hug, huge smile across is face.

“Now my brothers not given you any trouble is he?” Tommy asks jokingly making the cutest laugh bubble out of you. The sound of it warms Joel’s soul, he’d do anything in his power to hear it again.

Joel sighs “Really Tommy?”

“What? I’m just joking around” he smirks

“No, he’s not, not yet anyways” you chuckle smiling at Joel.

“Here darlin’ come look at the menu, gotta know what you like before we order”

“Oh I’m easy to get a long with. I like cheese, but honestly I’ll be happy with what you guys get, you don’t have to order special stuff for me”

“Nonsense gotta make sure you’re happy too” Joel smiles

Tommy comes back from the other room “alright I placed the order but I ordered a shit ton of food, like probably too much” he says chuckling.

“But I w’anted t’make sure everyone had somethin’ they liked.”

“I can go with you to pick it up, to help you grab it all if you’d like” you offer with a nervous smile. Trying your hardest to be helpful and figure out your place in this dynamic.

You don’t see it but Joel smiles at your gesture, loving your caring nature.

“Sure I’d love that sweetheart, plus I can give you pointers on how to annoy the shit outta my brother”

You catch a glimpse of Joel rolling his eyes.

“O-only if that’s ok with you?” You say nervously.

“Oh darlin’ of course, I wasn’t rolling’ my eyes at you” he says lightly resting his hand on your lower back.

Joel’s eyes are comically large when you and Tommy get back to the house, both with arm fulls of food.

“Jesus you guys leave any food for the rest of the city?”

That laugh Joel loves so much bubbles up out of you again, his heart beating faster the minute he hears it.

“Uh don’t look at me he’s the one that ordered the food” you say pointing at Tommy.

“Don’t look at me, the sweets we’re all her idea” Tommy says as Joel takes the bakery stuff out of the bag.

“I mean the least I could do was buy us desert” you shrug

Joel glanced up at you as he pulls out a second box from the bakery”

“But I-ah might of gotten a little carried away” you laugh at the sheer amount of stuff spread out over the counter.

The three of you all fill up plates with various items and sit down to bond over dinner.

You learn that Tommy is staying with Joel while he works on remolding the house he bought on that weekends.

You all grab your drinks and head to the living room.

“Make your self at home and sit where ever you’d like darlin’” Joel says as he plops down on the couch.

“Do you guys normally have particular places you sit. I-I don’t want to take anyone’s spot”

To Joel you’re so cute and considerate in this moment.

“Nah not really, sit where ever you’re comfortable”

You think for a moment about what do to before you sit next to Joel on the couch.

“I-I it ok to sit here? If you want more space I can sit on the other end.”

“Absolutely it’s ok sweetheart” Joel says with the kindest smile as his big brown eyes meet yours.

“Was hoping you’d feel comfortable sittin’ next to me”

Tommy follows a few beats behind the two of you juggling the bakery treats and his beer before snagging what he wanted and plopped down in the recliner next to the couch.

You and Joel bump hands reaching for the same treat, an over sized chocolate chip cookie loaded with big chocolate chunks.

A nervous giggle escapes you. “ where you going for the giant cookie too?”

“I’ts ok go ahead”

“Oh no it’s ok”

“Really darlin’ I insist”

You grab the cookie breaking it in half.

“Here I’ll split it with you” you say holding out half of it to him.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to do that”

“Really it’s ok, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t share” you say nervous chuckling.

Fuck. I can’t believe I just told him I liked him. Way to be weird.

Taking the half and laughing Joel retorts “ It’s ok, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken it” as he nudges you with his shoulder.

Joel glances over at you part way through the third movie to see you curled up and passed out on the couch next to him. You look so peaceful and comfortable in this moment that he can’t help but smile fondly at you as he pulls a blanket from the back of the couch over you.

Tommy catches a glimpse of Joel tending to you and he can’t help but smile. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his brother like this, seen this happiness in his eyes and a genuine laugh come out of him. Joel’s been a different person since Sarah passed away, more guarded and closed off. But he sees a small change in him since he met you. He can see Joel starting to peek his head out of the gate to the fortress he’s built around himself with you around.

Joel: Hey. It’s Joel y/n gave me your number incase I ever needed to get ahold of you. Just wanted to let you know she fell asleep during movie night on the couch. I covered up and left a water on the coffee table for her. Just didn’t want you to worry if she didn’t turn up tonight. I’m gonna leave her a note next to her phone on the coffee table so she’s not scared when she wakes up.

Stacey: Thank you for texting me Joel. Because I would have been worried if she just didn’t show up. Thank you for taking care of her. Please never hesitate to reach out if you need me.

Joel: Have a good night sweetheart

Stacey: oh Joel one more thing

Stacey: she doesn’t trust people easily. She also doesn’t just fall asleep just anywhere like this….actually she has a hard time sleeping in general. This means she’s comfortable with/ trusts you. Please don’t take this for granted.

——————————————————————

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of hushed chatter.

“ Jesus Tommy, be quiet your gonna wake her up”

As your sitting up slowly from the unfamiliar couch it hits you. Fuck, you fell asleep at Joel’s.

You notice a note next to your phone

“Don’t be scared, nothing happened. You just fell asleep during the movie so I covered you up and left you be. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning

-Joel

You only have a few moments to enjoy the thought of Joel caring for you before the embarrassment comes crashing down.

You fell asleep on a date, who does that!

And further more there’s actually no way this is a date. Why would this man want to date you?

You get up shoving the note in your pocket, gather your things and slowly and quietly make your way to the kitchen.

Tommy notices you standing awkwardly in the door way when he looks up for pouring his coffee.

“Oh would ya look at who woke up, mornin sweetheart” he says offering you a sweet smile.

Joel turns around from his place at the stove, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Morning darlin’ would you like some breakfast or coffee? I just s’tarted cookin’”

“N-no…I should go, it’s ok. Um Tommy c-could you give me a ride home?” You manage to squeak out, your voice sounding almost strained as you fight to hold back the tears trying to breach the dam.

You look away, unable to take the disappointment in Joel’s big brown eyes.

It was only a matter of time before he figured out you were a disappointment anyways.

“Oh um ‘course I can sweetheart no problem. Go ahead, I’ll be right out”

Joel just looks at home, eyes filled with defeat.

“It’s ok brother, I’ll talk to her. I can tell she’s feelin a bit anxious”

“I-I feel so bad, I hope she’s not embarrassed. I was happy to have her here, but I know it’s jarring waking up in someone else’s house”

Tommy finds you sitting in his truck, hunched over with your head on your hands and a small piece of paper in your lap.

“What’s that in your lap?” Tommy asked

You don’t even look up as you had him the small note. Tommy noticed the small wet stains in the note as he takes it from you.

A few beats of silence pass. “ oh sweetheart you y’dont have t’cry, this note is truthful”

“It’s not even that”

“I just want to go home”

“No problem sweetheart…just know you can talk to me bout anything anytime. Joel too.”

The ride across town back to your place is silent, your head rested on the window, blankly staring out. You’re mind feels like a hurricane swirling around, thinking of every situation that could happen from you falling a sleeping, thinking of everything you could of said, should of said. You’re zoned out so much you don’t notice that Tommy has pulled into your drive way. When you stay still and don’t get out Tommy breaks the silence.

“Y’alright sweetheart? Y’want to talk about anything? I’ll sit here all day if I need too.” He says, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You’re silent for a few more beats.

“I really fucked things up. Who falls asleep on a date? And before you say anything, no I don’t really think we were on a date because someone like your brother doesn’t want to date me. I’m just so fucking embarrassed. I might as well just prepare myself now for the fact that I likely won’t see either one of you much after this, before I get attached and think you guys want me around because I have a habit of misreading situations and peoples intentions.” You manage to choke out before the tears start flowing.

You go to open the door but Tommy stops you.

“Aww sweetheart hold on a minute. Breaks my heart seeing you like this and I know it would break Joel’s too.”

“It’s ok, Tommy… I know I’m not for everyone. My disorders drive most people away, I’m pretty used to it at this point in my life.”

“ I understand more than you might think… when I came back from the military, I was much different than when I went in. I have PTSD, my anxiety and depression were at an all time high, I can’t do most loud booming noises and the weirdest things trigger me and I spiral into a flash back. The one person who’s been there for me through it all and never once left my side or complained is Joel. Even when he was going through the most horrific moment of his life when he lost Sarah, he never once wavered in his support when I needed it. Long story short, he’s not put off by you or by you falling asleep or by any of your issues. He thinks your awesome, and so do I. Neither of us are messing with you. And I don’t want to speak for him but I’m pretty sure he was hoping last night was a date” Tommy says nudging you playfully at the last part.

“But seriously sweetheart if you ever need to talk. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you Tommy, truly. That means the world to me. I know I really should be kinder to myself but I’m just used to people being around when they want something or it’s convenient for them.”

“Do you wanna come back to the house with me?”

“I do but will it be weird? Will Joel want me to come back?”

“Sweetheart I’m pretty sure he’d let you stay as long as you were comfortable, but I can text him”

“Ok… I’d like to run inside and get changed if that’s ok?”

“I’ll wait as long as you need”

——————————————————-

Tommy: y/n and I talked for a while, she’s alright. She’s just embarrassed and having some trouble but she’s not freaked out by you at all.

Joel: I feel so bad she feels that way. But I’m glad I didn’t freak her out. She’s such a sweetheart.

Tommy: I offered to bring her back to the house to see you and she seems to want to, she’s just concerned you wouldn’t want her to. She’s just inside changing her clothes, I said I’d text you and give you a heads up.

Joel: if she wants to come back with you please bring her back. I want to see her.

Tommy: don’t tell her I told you but she called last night a date than took it back because she got scared calling it that but I told her you were hoping it was a date so do with that what you’d like.

————————————————————-

Stacey is standing right inside the door peeking out the window, which jumps you as you swing the door open.

“Why’d he bring you home? I though you were going to be hanging out with the other one?”

“Oh…Tommy lives with Joel”

“Wait…are you ok? Have you been crying?” Stacey says concerned as she reaches out grabbing your arm.

“Yea ugh I’m alright, I fell asleep last night during movie night and woke up and was really embarrassed and asked Tommy if he could give me a ride home because I just couldn’t face Joel.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you, sorry if I worried you”

“Well I would of been really worried but Joel actually texted me, to let me know you were alright and that you had fallen asleep”

“Wait… he did?”

“He was worried that I’d be worried if you didn’t come home. The dude seems like a stand up guy”

“Wait so why is Tommy still here?”

“Well I had a break down on the way here and him and I had a good talk, he asked if I wanted yo go back to the house with him so I’m going up go back over there and talk to Joel. I just wanted to change.”

—————————————————————-

“Y’know it’s been along time since I’ve seen Joel light up t’way he does when he sees you. Losing Sarah really took a lot outta him, but I see his old self startin’ to come out when he’s around you.”

Tommy says turning to you at the red light.

Tommy sees you smile from the corner of his eye as the light turns green again.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say to that.. and not in a bad way. I guess I’m just surprised. But honestly there’s just something about your brother, something that I can’t really explain. Sigh. Like I just knew right away that I could trust him, I mean I knew right away I could trust you too. But there’s just something about him that’s calming like I’m relaxed and at ease when I’m around him almost as if he sees me, like really sees me for who I am.”

When you and Tommy pull into the drive way Joel comes right out on to the porch, you can’t help the huge smile that tugs at your lips when you see him. You light up when your close enough for him to see you smiling and offered you a cute wave as Tommy puts the truck in park. Joel comes right down the steps and opens the truck door for you.

“H-hey sweetheart…m’happy you came back”

“Well I’m happy you wanted me to come back”

You barely get the words out of your mouth before Joel’s wrapping you in a tight embrace, you don’t hold back hugging him back just as tightly. It’s hard to tell who needed the hug more, you or him.

“Y’know y’can talk to me bout anything, whatever’s going on at any moment. I’ll never judge you. I want to be there for you.” Joel says just loud enough for you to hear, even though Tommy had already gone inside.

“I know, and I want you to know I do trust you. I just get really in my head sometimes because I’ve thought of every way a situation could go wrong instead of seeing the good, sometimes all I can focus on are the what ifs.”

“I’ll be as patient as you need sweetheart, never feel pressured and if there’s something your more comfortable talking to Tommy about in the moment I know he’d be there for you too.”

All you can do is tilt your head up, your glossy hazel eyes meeting his big brown one. It’s almost as if time stops in this moment. Joel wants to kiss you, my god does he want to kiss you and never let you go. He wants to wash away all your fear and anxiety. To hold you and give you the world.

Tag list:

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#tommy miller #fanfic #the last of us #tommy miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #soft!joel miller #neurodivergent #joel miller x f!reader

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grif-hawaiian-rolls · 2 months ago

Text

@leonardalphachurch ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE (in reference to this post)

Donut thinks his fursona is a red wolf, all handsome charm and roguish double’o’donut vibe but NO he’s a collie to me, specifically a rough/scots collie— he’s pretty he’s fluffy, he does good work but theres nothing behind those eyes affectionately. Also he likes to be told when he’s a good boy DOING A GOOD JOB

Grif… would not make a fursona for himself, but I think Kai makes one for him a-la garfield (fat orange cat) and he appreciates the Iconic humor of it at least and u know what i do think kai is right in the cat aspect but more maine coon less garfield (still fat tho /pos)- the kind of big lazy cat that make you do a double take bc like is that a big house cat or a bobcat, ya know?

Simmons does not Want a Fursona thank you very much he’s not Weird (tm) I'm telling you, he is a chihuahua. Puntsized ball of anxiety that bites and thinks its meaner than he is(but still pretty capable of being a mean little bastard, just,, not as big of one as he thinks)

Sarge Knows his fursona is a bald eagle. Bc its American. Patriotic! Sounds like a red hawk! Even better! He’s a pitbull— big brick of a head, mean reputation, but he’s a protective kind of caring at heart and u know he’s got that Iconic pittie grin

Lopez is hard, honestly, and if you asked him youd either get No Answer, or something thrown at you i think but like his fursona is like transformer mech bullshit that no one ever wants to draw and if you commissioned it you get like 20+ complex design additional charges because the rivets have to be 100% accurate and if they arent he would Know, its not even a fursona really at this point its just a cool mech body he wont ever build bc he doesnt trust anyone else to not fucking break it but emotionally its his fursona - the fursona I assign him is a remote control warthog, bc im sorry dude but i cannot give you a proper fursona to save my life my brain just refuses to do it so, goofy shit it is

SHEILA is, wonderfully, a sea turtle. Specifically i’m partial to a leatherback for her just for the scale factor alone but just the vibe in general of just,, seat turtle fits her idk how to describe it. In character, i do think she would misunderstand the assignment and just be like “oh! Im a Scorpion” bc thats the casual term for the M808B main battle tank in halo

Church(A), like simmons, REFUSES to even Consider it (epsilon considers it a Lot okay, theta’s got some cool design concepts but keep it on the dl bud) but i think he’s gotta be idog from the early 2000s. But like an edgy one the kind that were born of 12 yearolds traced over google images of the normal ones and recolored into Original Characters (i think their shape is based on beagles iirc??? Or labs), but yeah those things. If pressed, epsilon auto answers wolf but in that asshole way that sounds like he’s being a dick about it but no thats his actual answer

Caboose is a great dane. He’s just Great like that!! Yay! Friend shaped, really not used to being uhh mindful of his size and strength but loyal and protective ya know?? He's the only one who i think would correctly clock his own fursona on the first try

Tex would claim something badass like a tiger or something, but she’s like,,, a mockingbird :) i mean it IS the state bird of texas, and well... shes not a mockery of anything but she isnt the og either, ya know

Tucker claims a fox, because he’s sly and bitches Love foxes but to me?? Bluejay. Brightly colored, loud, mean little corvid asshole. Too damn clever for his own good- i would also maybe give him peacock or kingfisher if feeling more like,, flamboyant but he just feels very jay to me. maybe its the corvid bastard thing, or the bluejay in my backyard choosing the tree by my window as prime screaming spot for 6 am yelling for like a month but the vibe is there

Kai has so many furry characters. With the worst application of color theory known to man but somehow it works for her brand??? Sparkle dogs man, the woman is made for making sparkle dogs!! If i assign her cat to match grif, it'd specifically the kind of like bengal, this cat climbs walls kind of cat you know?? Zoomies all day every day! BUt i think more accurately to Kai as a person? Raccoon. Mischief and little grabby bastard hands and she would love it

Washington, if asked would shrug and say probably a cat bc u know, nine lives and all that- no. Im sorry cat wash truthers I respect cat wash, but nah Washington is a dog boy to me im sorry and specifically he’s a little Jack Russell terrier thats fast and vicious but man sometimes u gotta remember he’s like,,, he’s smaller than a cat man you gotta give him some help ya know?? Dont make him do it alone!!!

.......Or a horse i dont know how to elaborate on that one just,,, trust me

Carolina is oblivious to the concept of fursonas almost entirely, but she’s a greyhound and you know im right

Locus is genuinely the hardest one to place and i dont think he’d come up with a fursona for himself, but he gets assigned wolf by Donut i feel it, the whole lone wolf thing he has going and all during his redemption! Which honestly???? Maybe yeah? An argument could be made for another working dog (HELLO German Shepards my god) (context here: i had a german shepard/corgi mix, he was my lil guy, he was too damn smart for his own good and patrolled the back yard fence up until he couldnt keep his hips underneath himself anymore and then! He! kept! trying! So yes that does influence my input on german shepard locus) i just struggle to see locus as a dog???? Dogs are very high energy which -gestures to red team- but locus rarely has that same baseline energy i associate with dogs??? He’s hard to pin down and i’ve yet to manage it but im partial to something arboreal,,, the first thing that comes to mind on that train of thought is a binturong and i lost it imagining that so sure we'll go with that i have a lot of thoughts about locus

Felix wouldve loved the energy of being like the lucky cat with nine lives. I personally dont care for felix, but he would be that guy with like, its not a proper fursona bc he wouldnt b caught dead calling it that, but he has a fursona for scamming people and driving up the prices on auctions for no reason other than to fuck with people when he's bored. I subscribe to weasel/ferret Felix personally, specifically a yellow bellied weasel bc theres just,, honestly the name amuses me with the implications. He’s difficult to catch and handle, energetic and gets into shit no one wants him getting to. It fits

Doyle is a mouse, maybe MAYBE a rabbit, he doesnt know what fursonas are either but he just checks the mouse box for me personally,, very holdable, but skittish and might still bite you if u scare him bad enough

Dr Emily Grey does not have a fursona but she does think theyre neat and has let her patients all give her one, tho none of them agree on what she is. I think she's a shrike, specifically a great grey shrike! they're VICIOUS little birds, who dont look like much but they regularly hunt shit twice their size and are also known for impaling bugs on thorns and like, barbed wire?? theyre neat, and technically i think they count as corvids? clever little hunting machines

Kimball is definitely a german shepard tho like while im on the fence about it for Locus, there is no question about it for her she checks the boxes fits the vibe right down to the way she guards the new republic and chorus with her heart just under her sleeve

Sharkface. Shark. I mean….really. SPECIFICALLY THO a tiger shark tho, and he would absolutely be a dick if you implied a great white or a megalodon would be “better” bc no tiger sharks are exactly the kind of shark he should be thank you VERY much

thats everyone i have STRONG fursona assignment feelings for, and some are more flexible than others or more solid in some cases but YEAH! i think about this shit. a lot sidebar: i think the chorusans who know and are open about fursonas would probably use weird alien animals from chorus when picking them which makes this harder for them specifically bc the ones who would have fursonas arent limited to earth animals

all images are from the wiki pages for the animals! except for lopez. thats from the amazon page for the warthog

#i spent #far too long thinking about this #youre welcome to tell me im wrong and why im curious to hear other ppls takes too #rambling like a red #im NOT tagging everyone affectionate #i will however add #rvb #red vs blue #this is long winded even without the images MY BAD LMAO #but i think the visuals help #also i didnt have anything clever to say at the start to warrant a read more so its just long as fuck lmao

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