Chuck Shurley: Castiel, you stood by Sam and Dean, you helped them stop the apocalypse. You helped humanity and tried to end the civil war in heaven. Yeah, you made a few mistakes along the way, but we all do. All this to say, I’m proud of you son.
“Oh my god, look! A puppy!” “(Y/N), that’s a fire hydrant,” Hank sighed, grabbing her shoulders and redirecting her towards the mansion. “Come along, we’re almost home.” “What are you talking about? We’re nowhere near home, silly. We’re in New York!” Her words slurred together as she stumbled forward, tripping over non-existent pieces of rubble in the street. He just chuckled to himself and steadied her, keeping her upright. “Remind me not to let you drink ever again, okay?” He shook his head. Apparently, a night out with friends is equal to getting blackout drunk on shots of tequila and margaritas. “Oh, c’mon Hank, you’re no fun,” (Y/N) hiccuped. He led her to the front door and helped her climb the steps into the house. He brought her up the staircase and around the corner to his bedroom. There was no way he was leaving her all alone in her own room. She could spend the night with him then go on her way in the morning when she was sober.
Sansa keeps an innocent, equanimous expression, even when she’s raging on the inside and wants to murder everyone for what has happened to her family. Three years of captivity and she stays brave – that I admire.
“Pass me the hydrochloric acid, please,” she said, not looking up from her microscope.
“Busy,” he responded, running about the lab like a madman. She sighed, moving to reach for it herself. He didn’t see her behind him and be backed up into her. She cried out as the beaker of acid spilt all over her shirt. He turned towards her, alarmed. He looked as panicked as she felt.
“Crap,” she muttered, keeping her cool.
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?” He exclaimed, frozen in his tracks.
“Shut up, I got this,” she hurried over to the extra cupboard, kneeling down and grabbing a shirt. She tore off her current one, the acid beginning to burn through it, and threw on the new one. She had kept a spare supply in the lab, as he had been known to knock things over in his haste.
She sighed, looking over at her shirt, lying ruined on the laboratory floor. She stood up, brushing off her pants. She finally looked at the shirt she had pulled on and giggled to herself.
The sleeves dangled below her hands as she began to button up the plaid cloth. The bottom hung down to her legs. The red and black fabric obviously wasn’t from her closet.
“Are you alright? Did it burn you?” He rushed up to her, taking her hands in hers and looking her up and down.
“I’m fine. It’s all good,” she smiled.
“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t realise that you were behind me and I backed up into you without knowing you had the acid. I’m so glad you’re okay because I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. Especially if it was my fault. And-” she cut off his endless soliloquy by crashing her lips onto his. He was caught off guard but soon relaxed and moved his hands to cup her cheeks. She pulled away shortly after for oxygen.
“Was I rambling again?” He asked nervously, She nodded, laughing.
“You’re a dork,” she teased.
“But I’m your dork,” he said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.
“I know,” she smiled and he released her face, realising that it was getting weird. He looked her up and down one more time just to make sure she was uninjured. His eyes stopped when they reached the plaid flannel hanging off her small body.
“Is that my shirt?” He asked. Her face reddened.
“Yeah, it’s the first thing I grabbed,” she blushed harder and looked down, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“No, no. It looks cute on you,” he grinned.
“I love you, nerd,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself close. He gripped the waist of the flannel and pressed up to her, eliminating any space between the pair of them.
“I love you, too, nerd,” he teased just as she’d done to him. She laughed. He closed the small gap between their lips and they each enjoyed the blissful flavour of each other, wishing it could last forever.
I just realized that in the final ‘Cherik’ scene of X-men: Apocalypse when Charles said “Goodbye, old friend” Erik didn’t reply with a goodbye but with good luck. WHAT IF HE JUST WENT UP TO CHARLES’ ROOM INSTEAD!!! HE DIDN’T LEAVE THE MANSION!!! :D
Request: anon- You said you were doing x men imagines? Could you do a warren imagine where the readers mutation is where if she touches someone she can see their past and memories and warren is usually really mean but when she accidentally bumps into him she sees his past and tries to talk to him and it’s all fluffy? Thank you so much💖
Warnings: swearing, long as fuck, um… I think thats it. Nothing too graphic, but there are brief mentions of Warren’s past. Use your judgement I guess.
A/N. This power is so cool and so fun to write I love it! This imagine is also super long and I’m super proud of it. ALSO, ~indicates memories~. ALSO ALSO, requests technically still aren’t open. ALSO ALSO ALSO, this has not been proofread. Please notify me of spelling errors or grammatical errors or anything else. I hope you guys like it, and enjoy!
You were walking across campus when you saw him. Warren Worthington, the angel. He had an angry scowl on his face as he moved through the crowd, glaring at anyone who dared to get to close to him or his wings. Not that he had anything to worry about. The mangled metal appendages were enough to make any student keep their distance. And if that didn’t do it, his reputation certainly did.
Everyone knew Warren had worked with Apocalypse, the ancient being trying to destroy the world. He made no attempts to hide it, flaunting the tattoos and metal wings and glaring openly at anyone who tried to get close to him. You hadn’t even attempted it. Someone so full of anger and contempt was not someone you wanted to be around.
Unfortunately you were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that his path through the crowd was leading him directly towards you, or that he was on no mood to wait for you to move. He shoved past you, his leather-clad shoulder slamming into you and sending you stumbling back. His hand connected with your bare arm, only briefly, but it was enough. The memories slammed into your brain, the same way they always did with a new person.
Blood in his mouth, knuckles slamming into another boy’s cheek, blond hair falling to the floor. Feathers. Pain. More pain. Inflicting it. Feeling it. Knives. Metal wings. Blood on his hands. It was exactly as you had expected, except…
~Fight! Or they’ll kill us both!
Please dad! Please don’t take my wings!
Be a man Warren.
Fight for us pretty angel.
Stop. Stop. Stop!~
You gasped and your butt hit the ground hard, snapping you back to the present. Your hand moved to your face, wiping away the tears there, but you didn’t take your eyes off Warren. He was standing over you, wings spread wide, larger then you’d ever seen, the metal feathers that remained quivering. His face was red, blue eyes hard, hands shaking with fury. His chest heaved as he glared down at you. If looks could kill…
He opened his mouth like he wanted to snap something, to scream something, but instead he turned on his heel and ran, shoving students who didn’t get out of his way fast enough. You were left watching as the most broken soul you’d ever seen ran from you.