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thatonebirdwrites · 5 months

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When the news came, Lena was in a meeting with Sam and the L-Corp's board. She'd long ago set all alerts for Supergirl to come through to her phone, but ones where Supergirl was injured had been set to ignore all other settings.

The ring caused Sam to jump, but Lena kept her cool. She glanced down at her phone, and felt her veins turn to ice. A brief message that Supergirl had fallen from the sky.

Shit.

Lena grabbed her phone and bag. "I regret that I must take this call. An emergency has come up."

Sam looked at her, her brow furrowed in worry. "I can handle this, Lena. Go."

With a tight smile to her friend and CFO, Lena hurried from the room. She swapped out her shoes, and took off in a sprint. The alert had given her an intersection, but she needed to know if Alex knew about this yet.

Lena: Alex, I'm incoming.

Alex: wait, what?

Lena: Kara, she's fallen.

Alex: The hell? She's supposed to be eating lunch! Was in a meeting. Where?

Lena forwarded the alert's text, baffled that Alex had no idea.

Alex: How close are you? It's gonna take me fifteen minutes. J'onn unavailable.

Lena: Be there in five.

The doors of the elevator opened. Why drive when she could take the helicopter? When her pilot reached the intersection, Lena stared in horror. Someone had what looked like a missile launcher over their shoulder, and Kara laid in a cracked hole in the street in front of Noonan's. So Alex had been correct, Kara had been getting lunch, as drinks and food was spilled across the curb. People clustered in the doorways of the cafe and storefronts, and Kara's supersuit had a burn mark across its front.

Fuck.

"Hold us steady," Lena ordered the pilot. She grabbed a bag from behind her seat. In case of an attack -- considering she had quarterly assassination attempts all the time -- she had some specific weapons in here. One of them was a shotgun with some unusual shells. She flicked through her supplies and decided on a particularly useful set. She popped in the shells, cocked the gun, and threw open the door. The person started to look up, but Lena wasn't giving them a chance to react. She fired. The shots slammed into the person's back and immediately ice formed. She fired again. This time the person fell to the ground as a block of ice. Cryo shells had their use. She reloaded and gestured to her pilot.

He brought the helicopter closer to the ground. "Watch my back," she said, mostly out of habit, though she doubted the pilot could do anything. "And stay in the air. We'll need a quick exit." "Right, Ms. Luthor." He kept his gaze on the controls, his voice coming through her headset.

She jumped to the ground, her shotgun cocked. As she scanned the area, she realized, to her dismay, that another person stood in the shadows of the storefront across from Noonan's, armed with some sort of long rifle. Why the person hadn't fired yet confused her.

Lena aimed but didn't fire yet. She didn't have confidence that her shot would hit before the other took her out. "Step away from Supergirl."

The person wasn't that much taller than herself. Curly blonde hair leaked out of the black beanie, and blue eyes regarded her from under a black mask, their clothes definitely assassin-like. "Stay out of this, Luthor." A high-pitched voice. Possibly a woman?

"This is my business." Lena stalked closer. "Don't think I won't take you out like your friend there." She nodded at the other person dressed in black with a black mask over their face, their eyes closed. Ice was still encased around their lower body.

Lena wished she'd seen the person earlier. Otherwise she'd have fired on them too. Now they were in a stand-off exactly when Kara needed her the most.

"I don't want to do this," the woman in black said. "You're not on our list."

"Then step away now. Don't think I won't fire."

The woman stared at her for a long moment as if sizing her up. Her voice timbre changed to a hint of coy and frustrated. "Why do you care, Lena Luthor? Doesn't your family hate Kryptonians?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "I'm not them." She needed to distract her somehow. At least until Alex got here or Lena could fire the shot without getting hit in turn. "Now, how about you put down your weapon, I'll put down mine, and we'll talk like civilized people?"

The woman hesitated, her rifle moved just an inch down.

That was when the shot came from above. The bullet hit the woman's shoulder, she staggered backward, and Lena took the shot. Two blasts later, the woman was encased in ice like her friend.

Lena slung the shotgun over her shoulder and raced to Kara's side. "Supergirl!" She dropped next to her and felt for Kara's pulse. It was faint, far too faint. "Dammit." She didn't have time to check for injuries. Kara needed extracted immediately. "Riordan, drop the stretcher," she said into her headset.

The helicopter hovered closer, and a side door slid open. The stretcher shot out, swung, and slowed to a stop above her head. She reached up, snagged its side, and pulled on its rope until she had it next to Kara. It took two tries to lift the Kryptonian -- damn, Kara was heavy -- until she had Kara on and belted in securely. Flicking the switch on the bottom of the stretcher, a set of footrests dropped into place.

After she clamped her shoes onto the footrests, she noticed several people had started to come out of the stores with their phones in their hands, likely recording her rescue.

Whatever. All Lena cared about was Kara. "Go," she ordered her pilot, and held on tightly as the helicopter lifted toward the sky.

TO BE CONTiNUED...

#supercorp #supercorp fic #I wanted to write a scene where Lena does a ridiculously extra rescue of Kara #And then this was born #I'll put this up on AO3 once I have more written #But wanted to see if people liked this first #Lena Luthor #pov lena luthor #kara zor el #kara x lena #alex danvers #Assassins

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flamingpudding · 1 year

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Sooo I had this idea most likely inspired by a bunch of other fanfics I read...

Follow up part: 2

Ghost kid in Gotham

The Beginning

So far Danny counted two times in his live that he had died or at least sort of remembered dying.

The first time he died, he had been eight and in an horrible turn of events was forced into a fight to death with his twin. All because Danny couldn't be like his brother. He couldn't kill, he continuously nearly fails his missions if it weren't for his twin finishing of targets that were supposed to be his. The league had seen him as the black sheep of the family. He was no assassin material yet his twin brother still protected and adored him. But then their grandfather saw how he became a weakness for the true heir. All because Danny couldn't get his shit together during one mission they were sent on together. Resulting in his twin sustaining an injury.

So Danny was sentenced to death in an obvious fight the entire league knew he could nore would ever want to win. The fight had drawn out his twin at least attempting to get him to fight back to show their family that he was worth keeping by showing his skills, even if Danny couldn't kill, he could still fight excellently. But Danny didn't play along, instead he let his brother kill him with the final blow. He didn't even bother attempting to dodge.

His first death had probably been very cruel towards his brother, but at least it meant that his twin, Damien would live on.

Though he didn't expect that right before his body could grow cold forever, that their mothers still had somewhat of a heart and dunked him into the pits and revive Danny the first time. (Only later through Clockwork did Danny learn that he had been dropped in a pit of contaminated ectoplasm which probably was also the reason he even survived - well sort of survived - his second death)

He did come out as a feral kid though he barely remembered his time at the Chicago Orphanage. His former parents the Fantons had told him that he had been a feral kid the first year they had him. Apparently for the longest time Jazz had been the only one that could touch let alone get in hugging distance of Danny without getting bitten. Jack liked to show off the bite marks as lovely memories his sweet little Danno gave him the first time he hugged eight years old Danny.

The second time he died, he had been 14 and to this day he still thinks that a dare was one of the dumbest things one could die from. Of course his adopted parents weren't normal. They were ecto-scientists, studying ghosts or rather ecto-entities. And of course they were treading the line of mad-scientists with an entire lap in the basement and ecto-weaponry laying out and about throughout the entire house.

So when his parents build a portal to punch their way into another dimension that didn't work his friends just had to dare him to get in there to take a photo - or had it been a video - of it.

Who would have guests that the on batten was inside the damn thing instead of outside and that his stumbling and catching himself on the damned button would just so happen to punch open that portal with him in the middle of it all.

Let him tell you, getting electrocuted was not a fun way to day, nor is getting revived yet again by ectoplasm that was spewing out of the portal and mixing with his DNA. At least he got some cool powers from that accident and did not go feral like he did the first time round.

Danny shuddered, imaging if he had gone feral back then with Phantoms powers. Good he truly would have been the menace Amity still couldn't decide if he was or not.

Either way that were the two time he counted in his death tolls so far. Of course there were a couple of other times. Like that one time Sam made a wish. But he didn't really count them since well they didn't have any sort of big change that followed them.

But right now. He was probably close to his third accounted death. Strapped to the table. His chest pretty much sliced open and he was pretty sure that one of the tubes on the table across the room still contained his liver his Mo- Maddie had taken out and the other his arm that had been cut off by Agent K to test his healing.

Well he should have known better than to let his sister convince him that his adoptive parents would turn on him. Looks like that with their working with the GIW and him on the table they had finally broken the last bits of trust both Jazz and him had in them.

Danny had long lost the energy to plead with them, that it was still him. At least he would be a full ghost once the bloodless and missing limbs did him in. Really his human body wasn't as resistent as his ghost body. But at least staying in human form would protect his core. Really the worst that could happen was his human side dying right now.

Letting out a mute sigh Danny closed his eyes letting exhaustion take his mind into oblivion. The only sad thing was, that he never got to find out how his twin Damien was doing and if he was still with the league…

TIME OUT

When Clockwork first had set the path for this timeline he did not realize how damaging his king's parents' reaction was. As he looked at his king strapped to the table, cut open and even missing limbs, he for a brief moment regretted that he only ever watched the timelines and sent others to intervene. Rarely did he himself interfere but this time he had to. Otherwise his king would lose the part that made him the kindest among all the ghosts in the Infinit Realms.

Carefully he removed his king from the chains holding him down and took him with him. Away from the horrors he was facing and away from the Family that was supposed to preserve his king's kindness and humanity.

It looked like he had made a grave mistake but it was something that was still possible to fix. The timeline had yet to turn into a doomed one. And so Clockwork decided to take his king away and bring him to a place that would have a close amount of ectoplasm as Amity had as well as one of the strongest Spirits in existence to protect him until he was ready.

Looking down at the teen in his arms, Clockwork also decided that his king did not need the painful memories his supposed family gave him. A blue light engulfed his kind as Clockwork let his powers work. Turning the clock back only for his king. The missing limbs returned and his open wounds closed as the body in his arms shrunk.

In mere seconds the Master of time was holding his king at the age of his first death in his arms, yet the state was not the same. The scars of his second death were still present, telling that his powers as halfa were still present in his king's small bodies. With this his king would be ready to be dropped off to his next family. Hopefully Clockwork wasn't making a mistake again but keeping his king truly safe this time.

TIME IN

Lady Gothem was not impressed with the Master of Time as that old man dropped off the body of their king with little to no explanation. Last she knew her king was supposed to be a teenager, a halfa so powerful that the Infinite Realms were supposed to become a much safer place than they ever had been under any of the previous kings.

All the Master of Time had offered her was a cryptic - and honestly when was that old cogwheel not - message of protecting his king and returning him to his family. Really the next time she they meet she would not miss the chance to lecture Cronus. But for now she studied the young sleeping king in her arms, noting the similarities he held to the youngest of her knights.

Ah, so that was the family the old cogwheel meant. Well it looked that her knights were not only hers alone now but would also protect her king now. But who to bring him too, she mused. Surely her dearest among them would have no qualms taking the child in but he was currently not in their home. The little knights of other haunts have requested his help and called him away to that watchtower.

Mentally the city's spirit went through all her knights until her thoughts stopped by one in particular. The knight she was going to request help with from her king anyway. What better way was there than taking care of two problems with one action. He would surely take that child to the others as well as receive her king's help with his little contamination problem.

With her decision made, Lady Gothom made her move.

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idesofrevolution · 2 months

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The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

#original #hypnosis #mind control #himbo #bisexual #transformation #male hypnosis #male transformation #stoner #cannabis #musk #footplay #switch #male reprogramming

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wtftarot · 2 months

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PAC: The World

We've come full circle and it's about fuckin time, right? Time for the end. The World is harmony and the end of a cycle. She is that moment when you remember that you are the universe, you are One with everything and you feel it in your bones. It is recognizing your place as a human on this planet. The World is an ending, the inevitable conclusion but he is also the herald of a new beginning. What do they want to tell you? Let's fuck around and find out

As always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Four groups today, you can pick The Bird (eagle?), The Lion, The Person, or The Bull and head on to your reading.

The Bird/Eagle

The Nine of Cups and The Nine of Wands on the bottom of the deck.

This is fuckin gorgeous for y'all. The cycle that's ending for y'all is one where y'all had to fight tooth and nail for everything you wanted. I'm seeing the end of the Lord of the Rings, where the eagles fly Frodo and Sam out of Mordor after they destroy the Ring. I don't remember if Frodo actually says it, but I'm hearing him say "It's done". Y'all have been dealing with a rough ass cycle, huh? For it to show up as the One Ring? There may be one last battle of sorts? Like a boss battle. This is my nerd group (affectionate), I'm getting a lot of fantasy imagery. Think of it as one last challenge so you can truly close this cycle once and for all. For some of y'all, this cycle has been a long and very internal one. Something that's been weighing you down, that you're finally letting fall from your shoulders. What I'm seeing is that this 'boss battle" is a choice of sorts. You've been growing and figuring your way out of this cycle and all at once you're faced with a choice. This cycle has been more internal and you may have not seen much externally about it. It's like this choice embodies the cycle externally and you have a physical/material choice to make. Continue this cycle? Or Step forward with growth? And it will be that clear to you. Again with the imagery, I'm seeing a game screen with a choice. This path is unknown, keep going? Press X: Keep going. Press Y: Turn Around. Listen, I'm not much of a gamer like at all, so I don't know if that's a thing that happens in games? The last game I played was like three years ago?? So, the fact I keep getting gaming imagery means I'm really tapped into some of y'all's guides. Ok, the guide that's doing a lot of this is practically screaming in my ear to yell at y'all TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR DREAMS. FOR FUCKS SAKE. If you're into gaming and have been playing a game that's set in the woods, that message goes double. Don't ask me, I just work here. Now the cycle y'all are stepping into? Fucking beautiful, ok? Y'all are gonna be getting a lot of shit you have been wishing and crossing your fingers for. I'm hearing/seeing "yes, those too" and imagery of a belt and other accessories? This group is loud and I love it. Yea, even the "little things" you've wanted that aren't high on the priority list will be coming your way soon. And y'all are going to be rightfully smug about it. I think some of the blessings coming your way were things that people around you have tried to dismiss or downplay or talk you out of, so yeah you can be a lil bit smug about it. You've earned it. The past lil bit for y'all has probably felt very stale and stagnant but now that it's closing, things are going to be moving and improving. It may jolt y'all a bit at first. Cause this energy is so fucking different from where you've been, that even just dipping your toes in it will be a shock. It will be a welcome shock though, refreshing. The way this will manifest will be different for all y'all, but one thing's for sure, y'all are gonna fuckin run with it. After that initial choice, falling into this new chapter will be the easiest thing in the world.

random ass vibes: video games, d&d, 999, leaning into a new clothing style, fish, moon cycles, someone have a moon tattoo? birthday cake, HAPPY BIRTHDAY?

The Lion

The Moon and The Tower on the bottom of the deck.

Ok, you need to take a break. Full stop. Even if it's just ten minutes of sitting in nothing and silence. Your brain needs a rest from everything. I feel like y'all need to be told that yes, this thing does need to end. The cycle you're in may have become your comfort zone and you feel safe repeating it cause you know what to expect. It does have to end though. Y'all may have some idea that this ending is coming but you don't know just how much things will change when it does. This may be about a belief about the world or yourself that's really holding you back. Once clarity comes, you won't fit in the same places, with the same groups you used to. I don't blame you for resisting this, it can be terrifying to start questioning belief systems or old worldviews. Some of y'all may be questioning the religion or politics you were brought up in. It could be an understanding of who you are vs who others want you to be. Y'all are feeling a bit overwhelmed and confused as to what all this means. Sweetie, that's okay. This IS confusing and overwhelming. It is hard and scary and can leave you feeling very vulnerable. Babe, you need to stop pushing yourselves to have all the answers already. This one takes time and it's okay to let it. That's probably why the message I got for y'all before I even pulled the cards was for y'all to take a break. Not only that, but you don't have to tell anyone about this. Yes, if you can find some safe support through these periods of life do it, but you don't owe anyone what you're going through. Y'all are putting soo much pressure on yourselves to know everything already, to have all the answers. To know every aspect of who you are and what you believe. Wanna know something terrifyingly liberating? You never will. You will never know every single aspect of yourself cause you're always growing and changing. Same with your beliefs, you're always learning new things about how the world works, so your beliefs will always be shifting, even slightly. This is all coming from The World card cause y'all, more than anything need to let yourselves just BE. Be in the moment, stop interrogating them as if all the answers will be found there. The answers you're seeking will come in time and letting yourself live. I know the world we live in pretty much demands you have everything figured out at all times but that's bullshit. It's okay to change your mind.

random ass vibes: small-town vibes, doves or white birds, 919, the goth kid at the family reunion, lightning, trees, dragons, red clothes. nature vs nurture.

The Person

The Sun and The Hermit Rx on the bottom of the deck

Y'all it's time to come out of hiding. You've been hiding your truth for a WHILE. lol I'm hearing that lil Sunday school song: "Don't hide your light under a bushel, NO!" ( I grew up in the bible-belt, don't judge). That's a song for little kids if y'all don't know it, you don't have to look it up. It's telling me though that y'all have been hiding your light, so to speak, since you were a little, little kid. Like four-ish years old. Now, I don't know y'all's situation, it may not be safe for y'all to be fully yourself, and cause it seems like y'all have been hiding your whole damn life that's probably the case. So, BE FUCKING SAFE, okay? Because you're at this reading though, there are probably some ways you're hiding yourself that you don't have to. It's like y'all have just been letting people decide who you are when you're around them? Y'all are wearing other's projections of you like masks. I'm hearing "too much". Ooh boy, y'all listen, this group feels like I'm talking to my younger self. I cannot tell y'all the number of times I was told I was "too much", too loud, too quiet, too stubborn, too whatever. Unless y'all are being too cruel, too bigoted or whatever, y'all have a place here okay? Y'all seem to have taken being told you're too X, or not Y enough to heart and have whittled yourself down piece by piece cause that's what the people around you want. Y'all are like the fucking sun and everyone is demanding you be a candle. I think it's people you care about telling you this too. And because you care about them, you want them to be happy and comfortable. So, of course, you can be a little smaller, whatever they need, right? Now though, you've been doing this so long, you've lost yourself a bit, haven't you? The World is telling you it's time to call those parts of yourself back. Dig up those parts of yourself that you've buried. You can start as small as you feel you need to. It may be hard and confusing at first but soon it will be as natural as breathing. If you're not even sure where to start or have forgotten those parts, ask your guides and the universe for help. Ask for signs and to be put in situations that bring out those buried parts of you. You may have outgrown some of them and that's okay. Just prepare yourself, it won't be easy. Ya know that tingling feeling when your leg has been asleep and it's waking up? I feel that even though my leg has been fine this whole time. So it will probably be uncomfortable too. You should probably expect some hard reactions from the people around you too, especially if they've only known you as the you you've pretended to be for them. But that home you've been looking for? Felt calling? That can only be built by you being your authentic self. Otherwise, it'll just be another place where you have to wear a mask to be welcome. I wish I could end this one on a lighter note for y'all. This isn't an easy one. Take some alone time and please, take care of yourself through this. Whether you realize it or not, you are working through something really difficult and need to go easy on yourself through this.

random ass vibes: Halloween, candy, ghosts, 11:11, turtles, alligators, Frankenstein's monster, Venus, halos or angels?

The Bull

The Page of Pentacles and the Eight of Swords with the Empress on the back of the deck.

Y'all have so much fuckin potential, okay? Y'all are doubting yourselves so fuckin hard and The Universe and your Guides are sick of it. We all know someone who's amazingly talented but is so fuckin hard on themselves about it, to the point where you just want to grab em by the shoulders and shake them screaming YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND TALENTED. That's how your guides are feeling about you, all the damn time. I'm serious. I was only taking One card and the bottom of the deck for each group but the Eight of Swords came out too for y'all. Y'all are stuck in your head, questioning your every goddamn move and wondering why you're exhausted and never seem to move forward. This reading's tone is much more direct, like fed up snap the fuck out of its energy. Not that your guides are fed up with you, just fed up with your self-doubting bullshit. I'm hearing "..but they'll think I'm x" So, you may feel like if you truly lean into your potential and fail, people will have shit to say. Sweetie, they will and they will if you succeed and they will if you never do jack-shit. One of the few guarantees in life is that people will talk shit no matter what you do. The only control you have is why they're talking shit. Would you rather them talk shit about you cause you went after what you want, win or lose? Or because you never went after what you wanted, which is exactly what they wanted. The cycle that needs to end for you is one you have to end. End the cycle of shitting on yourself just cause you may not be where you want to be. End the doubt of your own capabilities. You really have NO CLUE how fucking amazing your life will get the second you start questioning those shitty thoughts. Like just questioning them, not even fully disbelieving them yet. Just questioning them will do fuckin wonders for you. If you're a beginner let yourself BE a beginner. If you want to try something new but are afraid of being a beginner then say fuck it and fuck you to those thoughts and start anyway. Hell, you don't have to tell anyone you're starting at first. You have the potential to be a whole-ass fuckin meadow and are doubting and even criticizing yourself for having to start as a handful of seeds. This is you're pep talk, in case you haven't figured that out yet. One other thing, some of y'all may be fearing the work that'll come with believing yourself, that it'll be tiring and all that. It's gonna be the opposite, sweetie. I mean, yeah it'll be work. But it's gonna be energizing. Do you know how much energy you've been hemorrhaging by shoving down allllllll that potential constantly? All of that will be freed up in a second and spent on fun shit. I believe in ya, babe.

Random ass vibes: thrifting, rainbows, makeup, cinnamon, puppets, purple, birds, card games, heart tattoos.

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #wtftarot #pick a photo #tarot readings #pac

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hells-plaid-angel · 4 months

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Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

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indelicateink · 3 days

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And even though Lestat isn't really there with Louis, Anderson loved filming all their scenes together because it's such a different relationship than what they shot in season 1.

"Something I really liked about their dynamic this season, which is weird because it is not really them, it's Louis' idea of him, and it's something that I wish that we had more of last season, is them just sort of hanging out," Anderson says. "You see them as friends or people that just enjoy each other's company way more in season 2 than you do in season 1, talking about photos or what are we supposed to do about our daughter? These sort of domestic vignettes. I've really loved doing that stuff."

—Entertainment Weekly

Yeah! The memory of the person that he chose to be with, aside from the vampire bond and the sensuality of their relationship — there was always something else there. They could make each other laugh. It's a real relationship that has layers to it, and it's nice that you kind of get a glimpse of that at least.

Totally. Without all the violence and gore.

[Laughs] Yes, exactly. Sam and I have talked about how nice it would've been to have had a little mini-series where you just see Lestat and Louis just hanging out in New Orleans.

Being happy?

Yeah. And not even necessarily hunting, just like walking, sitting on a bench, chatting, really like the norm.

— AMC blog

i just want us to jog back for a mini gentle season 1.5: The Honeymoon Years. they deserve a soft epilogue series of one-offs

#AAAAA HE’S TALKING ABOUT IT AGAIN don’t make me dream #jacob anderson #interview with the vampire #iwtv #loustat #give jam this project they have earned it #after the pending heartbreaking brutality of s2 we the audience will also have earned it #yeah the hijinks of visitors on night island is cool and all (or w/e was cooking) but #would carve off slices of my soul for louis and lestat sitting around casually shooting the breeze about claudia #or louis’s new book. lestat’s latest new musical instrument. a whole episode hanging out at the TAILOR #including deciding on pajama colors #idk surprise me i am open to All Of It #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire spoilers #iwtv spoilers

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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Sweet Creature

WHUMPTOBER DAY 23. Prompt: Nightmares.

Fandom: Supernatural (Cas)

Summary: When Dean is a Demon, he does something unexpected to you. Since then, you have become withdrawn, refusing to sleep in fear of the images that plague your mind. When you eventually give in and suffer a nightmare, Cas is there to help.

Warnings: Demon Dean, nightmares, minor injuries.

Word count: 1.3k

Note: I thought Cas deserved some lovin

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You tossed and turned in your bed. The night had been restless ever since you laid your head down on the pillow. You hadn’t sleep well in a while; your sleep was plagued by nightmares every time your closed your eyes. Every time you blinked, you saw his face. The face of a man you thought would never hurt you. But you were wrong.

Dean hadn’t been himself lately. He was distant. And when he actually took the courtesy to speak to you, he was cruel and didn’t think twice about what he spat from his mouth. At first, you tried to dismiss it off as a side effect of becoming a demon, every time he spoke he would flash you those black eyes. You didn’t mind though; it was a reminder of the fact that Dean wasn’t Dean. But soon he realised that too, and he used it to his own twisted advantage. Slowly, he stopped trying to scare you with those dark orbs and instead resorted to looking at you with his green irises. That was what scared you the most.

As time passed, you often found yourself feeling guilty for wishing that Dean had never returned from his outings with Crowley. In a way it was worse having him settled into the bunker and having to anticipate his next move that worrying about where he was or if he was even alive. He was considerate of sorts, at first. He kept his distance. But then he grew bored and words became physical.

Dean had chased you down the hallway of the bunker as you and Sam slunk around, trying to put the place on lockdown. When the red light illuminated the hallways, Dean only grinned and adjusted his grip on the hammer. It wasn’t long after that that he found you trying to sneak back to the dungeon to meet Sam. He had taken you by surprise by grabbing your hair from behind and yanking you back. You had screamed, desperately to try and draw Sam’s attention, but he clamped his hand firmly over your mouth to silence you.

Your yells were muffled by his hand, so any hopes of calling Sam were useless. So you were left with the only other option: try to fight your way out. You reared your head back and slammed it into Deans. He faltered and loosened his grip allowing you to escape, but Dean was much bigger than you and fuelled up with his demonic abilities. He grabbed the hem of your flannel and slammed you into the wall. You cried out, blood trickling from a cut in your pounding head as he leaned his body weight against you, wrapping his hands tightly around your neck and cutting off your air supply. He smirked as your squirmed in his grip, body begging for air as black dots edged your vision. The air came rushing back to you when Cas arrived, countering his demonic strength with his angelic grace and ripping him off of you and holding him back.

Since then you had barely left you room. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the three boys who were so used to hearing the lilt of your voice ringing throughout the hall. It scared them that you were so withdrawn.

It shamed you that you couldn’t bare to look at Dean. You knew that really it wasn’t his fault, but every time you caught sight of him all you could feel were his hands wrapped tightly and squeezing around your neck. Hands that were usually so tender towards you.

You hardly slept because when you did you were plagued with nightmares. Your mind flooded with thoughts about Dean. What if you hadn’t found the cure? What if Sam and Cas hadn’t gotten to you in time? What is he had succeeded? What then?

You had tried to put off sleeping, but it had finally gotten to the point where you bags were so dark that they were the most prominent feature of your face and you were so tired that not even coffee would keep you awake. So, reluctantly you had clambered into the the soft mattress and tried to drift off to sleep. But, as expected you were met with the image of Dean prowling towards you.

When Cas pushed open the door to your room with a creak, you were tossing and turning. Your face was contorted with fear and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across your forehead, sticking stands of your hair to your forehead. The angel had sensed your discomfort and could have sworn that he ever hear a strangled prayer of his name called out from somewhere in the haze of your sleep.

He reached towards you and laid a hand on your shoulder to shake you awake.

“Y/n?”

Dean was gaining on you. You had tried to out run him, twist down the corridors and dart into rooms but he knew the bunker like the back of hand and he was hot on your tail every time you thought you had snuck away.

You flung open the door and rushed inside searching for another way out, but you had hit a dead end. And then the door slammed shut behind you. Your breathing began to come in sporadic bursts as Dean prowled towards you, his eyes as black as a starless sky.

“Stay away from me.” You held your hands out in front of you as he crept forwards grinning manically from ear to ear.

Dean just laughed and stepped closer. When he was metres away, you surged forwards to try and get around him but he planted a hand firmly on your shoulder.

You screamed as you sat up abruptly, frantically trying to brush the hand away from you. Cas quickly removed it from your shoulder as if he had been burned. He had been startled by your sudden movement.

Your gaze darted frantically around the room as you hyperventilated, unable to separate the cruel creations of your mind from what was real.

“Shh.” Cas hushed, “you’re okay, y/n. It was just a dream.”

Cas’s voice seemed to ground you. Your breathing slowed and your body relaxed slightly into his arms as he massaged circled into your skin, but you never allowed your guard to drop fully.

“It’s okay y/n. You are here and Dean has been cured. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Cas…” your face was stained with sticky tears.

“I’m here y/n.”

You sniffled. “Sorry.”

He frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m being childish.”

Cas shook his head firmly, wiping away the hairs from your face and tucking them behind your ear. “Some of the things you’ve seen…I couldn’t begin to understand how those have affected you. You are so, so strong y/n.”

“It’s just…I feel so stupid.”

“Oh, Y/N…”

He brought you close to his chest, wrapping you up in his arms to soothe you. You’re listened to the way his heart thumped in his chest and felt the rhythm of his chest rise and fall. It scrubbed away at some of that nausea that had bubbled up in your stomach.

“Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?” He murmured into your hair. “You must be exhausted.”

You hesitated for a moment, reluctant to close your eyes again.

“Stay with me?”

“Of course.”

He swung his legs onto the bed before wrapping the two of you up in the sheets with your head still resting against his chest. He ran his hands through your hair as you curled up against him.

“Sweet dreams, y/n.”

As your eyes drifted closed to the steady thrum of Cas’ heartbeat your mind calmed and all lingering thoughts left your mind, and you fell into the first undisturbed sleep you had had in days.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 22 ⛤ DAY 24 ->

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hearts-hunger · 12 days

Text

evergreen — part five

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: In your love nest, you and Jake heal every hurt.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, emotional h/c | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: sexual innuendo, smoking

A/N: The last chapter of this little fic! I'm so thankful for all the love you've showered on Jake and Sparrow, despite how silly they've been. I hope this chapter is everything you're hoping for! ♡

Coming into the tent was a tangle of something shy and gentle and cautious, wet hair plastered to your faces and shared looks of love and longing and apology as you tried to figure out what to say to each other. You both knew you needed to talk, but for a while, there was nothing but the sound of the rain; he helped you out of your boots and jacket, setting them neatly in the corner of the tent. You sat together in the doorway, watching the rain, smoking a few cigarettes from the crumpled pack from his jacket pocket.

“Thank you for my love nest,” you said. You brushed his wet, curly hair back from his face. “You didn't have to do all this, Jake. And in the middle of the night and in the rain, too.”

“I wanted to,” he said. “I wanted you to have a place that was just for you. You’re everything to me, and you deserve something from me that I haven't shared with anyone else.”

You knew you already had something from him that belonged to the two of you alone, and it wasn't your love nest, as wonderful as it was. You knew you had him, had his heart in a way that no one else ever had, just like he had yours.

A bruise showed on his neck, and you reached a cautious hand out to brush your fingers over it.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you said softly. “All that — it was stupid. And it was my fault.”

He gave a rueful smile. “Takes two to tango, sparrow.”

You let your hand fall to your lap. “Yeah.”

He glanced over at you after a moment. “Besides, you were the one who said you didn't want to fight.”

“Much good it did me,” you said quietly. Though there was an understanding between you now, you still didn't know what to say, how to tell him things you could hardly sort out yourself. “I didn’t want to fight. Or maybe I did. I don't know.”

You put your cigarette out and looked for a place to put it; he held his hand out and put it in the pocket of his jacket.

“I don't know why I always do this,” you said softly. “I don't know why I keep everything bottled up until it turns into a huge catastrophe.” You felt the sting of tears, remembering how you'd hurt him, how poorly you'd treated the one you loved more than anything, feeling guilty for your inability to give him the apology he deserved.

“And then I do this,” you said, “and make it a pity party for how stupid I am.”

He ran a soothing hand over your back. “Yeah. You do.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Too bad I love you, sparrow.”

“Oh, you're joking, but it’s true,” you said miserably. “I was awful to you. I don't know how you put up with it.”

“I just told you why,” he said gently. He brushed his hands through your hair. “I love you, sparrow. Pity parties and all.”

You turned your tear-streaked face to him and met his eyes, sucking in a choppy breath. “Even like this?”

“Yes, sparrow. Even like this.” He brushed your tears away with a gentle touch. “I thought I told you not to cry, silly girl. You never listen to me.”

You couldn't help a watery laugh, and he gave you a tender smile.

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I didn't mean to, but I understand how that doesn't make it any easier. I'd be doing the same thing as you if it was the other way around.”

You shook your head. “You wish you could cry as much as I do, Kiszka. You don't ever cry.”

“That’s not true.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “I cried when I left.” His smile was wry and rueful. “That's why I left, partly, to be all stoic and manly while I cried like a baby.”

Your heart twisted. “Jake. You could have woken me up.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grazed his knuckles over your cheek. “But you needed to sleep, and I couldn't figure out what to say to you anyway. The way I treated you... that was a mistake, sparrow, and I regret it. All of it — the fighting, the sex, not seeing you as you are, not giving you what you needed. I'm sorry.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, but your tears were starting in earnest again. “Me too, Jake. I’m sorry for all of it too.”

“My girl,” he said softly, a gentle, teasing smile on his face. “There you go again, looking at me with your heart in your eyes, everything spilling over.”

He pulled you close; you leaned into his chest, your head thumping pitifully against his collarbone. He gave you a tight, comforting squeeze, rocking you gently.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” he asked.

You breathed a laugh. “I’d rather be a mess with you than do anything else.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, Jake.”

He kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sparrow. Come lay with me and let me show you how much.”

With soft, healing laughter, you helped each other out of your damp clothes and lay in the nest of pillows and blankets together. You pulled him close and combed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly. He was, all warm and soft under the golden fairy lights, and the peace that filled his expression now was more lovely to you than anything you'd ever seen.

A sweet blush pinked his cheeks. “Thank you, sparrow. You're beautiful too.”

He cradled your face in his palm and traced the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “I didn’t bring you here to sleep with you. We can if you want, but I understand if you don't. We can do whatever you want.”

You hummed. “How about mad libs?”

He chuckled. “If you want. It's your love nest, sparrow. You pick.”

You drew him close and kissed him, slow and sweet and deep. “I want to be with you, Jake.”

“I want to be with you too, sparrow.”

You spent long minutes relearning each other, his mouth gentle against yours, remembering how to love each other with patience and tender touches. He pulled you snug against him with a hand splayed over your back; you melted into him, safe and loved and mended. He kissed the places he’d left marks before, healing with every touch, until everything was right in the world.

He brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Let me make love to you, sparrow. Let me do it right this time.”

“Okay,” you said softly.

He stayed with you, close and warm and generous with his kisses, and you gave a contented sigh when you were joined. He was slow, gentle, patient; you blossomed under him like a flower opening to the sun, drinking in all of him, surrounded by him and the love he gave you so easily and willingly.

“With me, sparrow,” he said, holding you close. “Please, love. With me.”

Pleasure, joy, something nameless and old and perfect; you felt them all when he moved inside you, when you heard his sigh and the words of love he spoke to you, when you felt the way he loved you and held you after.

“Sparrow, sparrow,” he said, gentle, breathless. “I love you. You're my heart. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, Jake,” you said softly. You kissed him. “You’re my heart too.”

—

The rain kept up a steady beat on the roof of your tent, comforting now instead of lonely, and in the afterglow, Jake was full of laughter and bright with smiles you couldn't help but return. You talked about everything and nothing, listening to each other’s voices, coming together in pleasant interludes of hands on skin and tenderness in every place you needed it.

“Let's never fight again,” you said.

He gave a gentle laugh, drawing your intertwined hands up to study them in the soft light. “Okay. It's not very realistic, honey, but we can try.”

“I mean... not like that again,” you said. His hand was the perfect fit for yours, callused and gentle and strong; the macrame bracelet you'd made for him years ago rested at his wrist. “You’re better at it than I am.”

He didn’t deny it; he couldn't, not when he was so good at it, at knowing when to step back and take a minute and when to talk again when you were both calmer. You relied on him in that, and it wasn't until now that you realized just how heavily you depended on his good judgement and diligence in it.

It also made you realize just how angry you must have made him earlier to push him over the edge of that judgement. It was that thought that kept you from feeling completely content, and you felt you could apologize to him over and over and never do it enough.

“Jake,” you said softly. You tucked your hands between you. “Can you forgive me?”

He kissed your collarbone. “I already have, sparrow.”

Your throat felt tight. “How?”

“You know how,” he said gently. “Tell me.”

You drew him up to kiss you again. “Because you love me.”

“That’s right. Because I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, meaning it more than anything you'd ever said in your life. “Teach me how to be better to you.”

“I like you the way you are, sparrow.”

You smiled. “I know that too. But you’d like me more if I knew how to tell you what I was feeling.”

He shrugged. “I’ll get better at reading you,” he said. “Teach me how to do that, and I’ll teach you to be a lover, not a fighter.”

You giggled as he kissed your neck. “Can we start right now?”

“Sure. Tell me how you're feeling. But first...” He gently stretched you out beneath him. “I think you're feeling safe, and happy, and.... hm. Maybe excited. A little.”

You laughed. “Correct. See, I told you — you’re better at it than I am.”

He hummed. “Anything else? Maybe I missed something.”

“Well...” You were a little bashful. “Maybe I feel kind of hungry.”

He gave a dramatic groan. “Oh, I knew I missed something.” He smiled and kissed you. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.”

You dressed again and found it was a short walk back to the cabin. In the bathroom mirror, you saw a bright, lovely color in your face and much preferred it to the sickly look you’d had before. You changed into clothes that weren't soaked with rain and ventured back out to the living room; Sam and Danny had gone to bed, but Josh and Baby were asleep on the couch, his head in her lap, her hands lightly tangled in his curls. She woke when you came in, looking up at you with a sleepy smile.

“All better?” she whispered.

You couldn't help a beaming smile. “Yeah. All better.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. “I thought I was going to have to take you both by the ear and make you fix things.”

You gave a soft laugh. “No need. We’ve decided we’re never fighting again.”

Her smile turned to more of a smirk. “Well, good sex will do that. Let me know if you crack the code, and I’ll try it with this one.”

She gently roused her boyfriend and rewarded him with a kiss. “Bed, Joshy.”

He nodded, half-asleep. “Okay, baby.”

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze as she led him to bed, and you were so glad that everything was right in your family, that you were all happy and had the rest of your vacation to enjoy each other.

“Sparrow, my dearest.”

You turned towards the kitchen to see Jake with a hodgepodge of midnight snacks.

“Chef Kiszka strikes again,” you teased.

He grinned. “Well, I figured you didn't want to wait for a full-blown Julia Child recipe, but I’ll make something fancier if you want.”

“No, this is perfect.” You stole a pretzel and popped it in your mouth. “Delicious. Better than anything Julia Child could make.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can we take it back out to our love nest?”

“Uh... yes,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “I might have to throw it all in a Ziploc bag, though, to save it getting rained on.”

You hummed in agreement. “Like a weird trail mix.”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

Weird trail mix in hand, you went back out to your tent and got cosy again. He peeled a tangerine for you, handing you pieces of it and stealing a few for himself, and you found that he’d brought the copy of Rilke’s poems you’d gotten him last Christmas.

“I didn't know you actually liked this,” you said, thumbing through the dog-eared pages, seeing the notes he'd made in the margins.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course I liked it. I read it all the time. He’s your favorite.”

Your heart tilted. “He is my favorite.” You handed the book to him. “Will you read me our poem?”

He smiled. “As if you don't have it memorized,” he teased gently.

You shrugged. “It’s not the same as hearing you read it. I love to listen to your voice.”

He looked pleased and a little bashful, taking the book and opening it to the poem he’d used as words of love before you even knew he loved you. His voice was soft and warm as he read, giving every word its meaning as a little piece in a tapestry of affection and beauty.

“Show me the miracle of your hair unbound,” he read. “I want to surround you with your secret self... I want to close every place you've ever been with a kiss, leaving nothing but inner skies.”

You leaned close and let him kiss you and leave you with nothing but inner skies, deep, boundless, full of meaning and wonder. You lay together again, tucked close to each other, and he read to you from your favorite poet.

“How we waste our hours of pain,” he read, his voice rumbling comfortingly in his chest. “How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration to see if they have an end. Though they are really our winter-enduring foliage, our dark evergreen, one season in our inner year — not only a season in time, but a place and settlement, foundation and soil and home.”

You touched his cheek, feeling the words of the poem ring true for the two of you — in the safety of the love you shared, your hours of pain were something more, something evergreen, a foundation on which you built a stronger love to make a home in together.

“I love you, Jake,” you said, very softly.

He kissed you and held you close. “My sweet sparrow. I love you too.”

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daughterofcain-67 · 9 months

Text

𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Post season 15 with alternate universe/ending with both Winchesters get a happy ending (SPOILERS MENTIONED)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after Chuck was finally defeated and Jack took charge of Heaven, you hoped that you could finally settle down with your husband. But once an hunter, always a hunter you supposed. You try to talk to Dean about retiring for good, leading the both of you into an argument. But when something happens to you as a result of a case, Dean reconsiders the idea of retirement.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of supernatural ending (sort of), argument with Dean, violence, blood, close call for character death.

You thought that for sure since Chuck was finally defeated and Jack was in charge of the new Heaven, things would die down for Dean and he would be less tense. And for a little while, he did seem more relaxed. In fact, after so many years of waiting and wondering if it would ever happen, the two of you were finally able to get married! Dean was growing his hair out and he had a little beard growing too.

You and Dean were still living in the bunker while Sam decided to begin his new life away from hunting once and for all. Dean started a business as a mechanic and whenever that familiar urge to hunt was there, he would occasionally take local cases on the weekends.

Things had been fairly relaxed but you knew that a part of Dean was always on the lookout for trouble. As if Chuck could make some kind of miraculous appearance again or there would be another angelic/demonic war. You knew he couldn't help it and you wished he wouldn't even hunt on the weekends but you knew that it was what he grew up with. It was all he knew next to fixing up cars.

Which brings you to this weekend. Dean had that itch to hunt again but you had to give him credit, it had been about a month since he went on his last hunt. Normally he would go every other week. Then again he had been a little bit backed up with work so he didn't exactly have the time to hunt until now.

You watched your husband go through the artillery in Baby's trunk and you smiled to yourself. Seeing him get ready for a hunt did bring back memories of simpler times before the brothers had to worry about the apocalypse. You remember when the two of you first met on a hunt over in Dunn, North Carolina. It was a simple little hunt, a milk run really. You had heard from Bobby that a certain father-and-son dup needed help on a case with a pack of werewolves. That was back when you were 23 and Dean was about 24 as Sam was already in college by that time.

That was the first time you met Dean and you were good acquaintances, maybe a hook up once in a while if you both happened to be in the same town as years went by. But you didn't have Dean as a constant in your life until Sam reached out to you a few years back saying something about some Mark of Cain. You had been there to help him in any way you could, even though it was sort of a solo suffering kind of thing and all you could do was help Sam think of a way to get it off. You didn't realize you loved him until Metatron fought Dean and you had almost lost him forever.

"Dean?" You asked as you walked towards him, placing a gentle hand on his back. He paused for a moment as he looked down at you with a certain softness in his eye that was finally able to be seen more often.

"Yeah, Sweetheart?" He answered as he shut the trunk.

"You'll be careful out there, right? I mean I know it's not demons, angels, or God himself, but vampires and werewolves are just as deadly. Hunters still get killed by basic monsters and spirits just the same. And they don't come back like you did so many times." You said, unable to help worrying even if he's done so many more dangerous things over the years.

"I know they are. And I promise, I'll come back home safe and sound, just like I always do." Dean promised and you rolled your eyes a little. The last hunting trip he went on with Sam, Dean nearly got himself killed on a basic hunt but luckily the wound he got was in his shoulder instead of anywhere fatal. After that hunt, Sam realized he was done with hunting for good and he encouraged Dean to start a different business - which was where the mechanic idea came from.

"You'd better keep that promise. You were supposed to retire like Sam did. If I lose you... this time it's for good. No spell, no miracle will bring you back this time." You started and Dean sighed a little and shook his head before taking your hand off him.

"Y/N, we've talked about this so many times and you know it's not going to change. I've pretty much stopped and now it's just an every once in a while kind of thing. I've hunted all my damn life and I know what I'm doing. I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do." He said, getting a little stern with you by raising his voice.

"Pretty much stopping is not being retired. And it's not being safe. If you have to hold onto hunting, then why can't you just be a researcher like Bobby was? Get off the field. You don't need to be a soldier anym-"

"Because I'm not Bobby! I'm not Sam! My place is out there like it always was! You know, when we got married I thought you'd be more supportive." He said and ran a hand through his longer hair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? I've been supportive of you for all these years! I've been one of the ones to support you with your mechanic business! Is it so damn wrong of me to want my husband alive?! Is it wrong of me to want you to stop being so reckless on hunts!? It's time for you to let go and finally live, Dean! That's all I want for you."

When you watched him turn around, it was like there was no emotion in his eyes, his brows slightly narrowed and his jaw set. You knew it was the sign that he was done talking about this even if it was the middle of an argument. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Maybe you'll be more open minded about everything by then."

"And you're going to leave just like that? Like what I had to say is no big deal?!" You asked as he got into the Impala and you watched him drive off. You threw your arms up with annoyance and you made your way inside the Bunker once more, unsure of what things would be like when he would come home. If he would come home.

That argument was more than a couple of days ago. In fact it was almost a week to be exact. Dean told you he'd be back in a couple of days and tomorrow would mark a week since he left on a stupid hunt.

Granted you knew a thing or two about cars yourself so the business wouldn't falter because the owner was gone. But you felt uneasy. What if something had happened to Dean after all? And after all of the things you said, of all things it had to be an argument. What if you would never get to remind him that you loved him again?

All of these thoughts and worries got to you, but luckily Sam was able to stop by and visit to help you with the shop, and sort of keep your head on straight without Dean around.

It was the end of another work day and you and Sam were at the bunker again. Sam was sitting at the table in the library skimming through the research books.

"You guys still held onto these? You could have sold them to several hunters and would have probably made some good money off them." Sam said as he shut the book and pushed it to the side just as you handed him a glass of bourbon.

"Yeah well.. your hard-headed brother wanted to keep them for his weekend trips incase he needed me to search something up." You muttered as you sat down, looking at your wedding band. You started to bounce your knee up and down anxiously and Sam noticed that the worry was starting to get to you.

"Y/N, I'm sure he'll be okay. You know that sometimes hunts can be a little more complicated than they lead on." Sam spoke

"But what if he's not okay, Sam? What if this is the one hunt that ends it for him? One wrong move and it could be over. One slip up and he's gone. What if he dies thinking I'm still upset with him? What if he dies thinking I never supported him?" You rambled and the last part was what caught Sam's attention.

"He said that? After everything you two have been through?" He asked and you nodded and you pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and you could feel a stress-induced migraine coming on. Wonderful.

Sam let out a sigh, wishing his brother would lose that hard head but he knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. But when he looked at you again, he wanted to think of how to get your mind off the worst.

"Why don't you get out of the house for a while, huh? You need the fresh air and maybe you'll feel better. I'll give Dean a call while you're out and see if he's alright. He's going to be fine." Sam said and you thought about it for a moment before you nodded. Maybe the fresh air would do you some good.

"Yeah.. Maybe I'll go pick up some groceries while I'm out and stock up on some stuff." You said as you got out of the chair.

"Why don't I go with you though? Make sure nothing happens. It never hurts to be too cautious." He said, but you shook your head at the suggestion.

"The store's just a few minutes away. I'll be okay getting from here to there safely." You insisted and saw the nod from your brother-in-law.

And with all of that being said you ended up taking your own car to go to the nearest grocery store to pick up whatever it was you could think of that you needed, considering you didn't exactly have a list on you.

When you got there, you noticed the parking lot was empty. It couldn't be that late could it? When you got out of the car you walked towards the front entrance of the little store and noticed a sign.

"Closed down? When did that happen?" You wondered out loud. It wasn't a huge business, it was a little family owned grocery store and you didn't expect it to be closing. But you shrugged nonetheless and decided to head over to the nearest Walmart.

But before you could get to your car, you felt something hit your head and all went black.

Just then, Dean rolled into the garage of the bunker and noticed his brother's vehicle was there, but yours was not. That was a little unexpected but he knew he'd be glad to see his brother again even if you would be angry with him especially after being gone so much longer than he had originally anticipated. Yes there were complications on the hunt this time around but a part of him just didn't want to come home and continue an argument.

Hunting was his life for so long and doing these simple hunts reminded him of the old times with his brother. He missed the simplicity of it all, the adrenaline rush. The feeling he got when he would actually save people. He missed it all. And he thought you of all people would understand.

He opened the door and made his way downstairs only to see his brother lifting his phone up to his ear. Then Dean's phone started ringing, causing the older brother to chuckle when Sam's head spun around. Sam hung up the phone and got up from his seat.

"Welcome back." Sam smiled and the two brothers met in the middle and hugged for a brief moment before letting go so Dean could set his bag down on the table. "And after all those years giving me hell about not getting a haircut, you go out and grow your hair."

Dean laughed, "Just trying something a bit different to see how it works out. But I still don't use nearly as much product as you do." This caused a chuckle to come from Sam.

"So where's Y/N? I didn't see her car. Is she alright?" Dean asked .

"Well physically, yeah she's alright. She just went to the store. But otherwise, she's been worried about you, Dean. It's been a week and she said she hadn't heard anything from you. And she started thinking the worst but I kept reminding her that some cases extend a little longer than we want them to." Sam said and Dean sighed a little.

"It was supposed to be a local issue that lasted like two days tops. Some missing persons in the camp grounds and I thought it was another Wendigo case. But it turned out to be Vetalas. Found that out when I caught it feeding off a camper and I managed to find its partner but it ended up getting away. But it turns out there was a whole group of them a few towns over and I assumed the partner went back there. Luckily I was able to find a few other hunters there and we took care of the problem so no one else would get hurt and we wouldn't have anymore coming around here. So naturally it ended up taking more than a couple of days like I hoped it would be."

"Did you ever find the first Vetala's partner again?" Sam asked and Dean shook his head, sending a red flag up in Sam's mind. He looked down at his watch and realized that you had been gone for a pretty long time after saying the store was only a few minutes away.

"Dean, I think you should call Y/N." The younger brother commented. Dean clenched his jaw, not liking the idea of you being in any kind of danger.

So, Dean pulled out his phone and started calling your number. Normally you would pick up right away especially if you were as worried about him as Sam said you were. But after a few rings, Dean finally got an answer, but it wasn't from you.

"Well, well. Took you long enough to even call. Your little mate's fine for now. But if you want to see her again one last time, you'll meet me at the little store a few blocks away from your house. You'll see your mates car there." The creature said and Dean could feel his blood boiling with rage.

"What do you want with her you sick son of a bitch?"

"Just come to where I told you. Of and come alone. I know if one Winchester is out and about, the other is never too far behind." Then the line went dead.

"Damnit!" The older brother cursed and got up, taking his bag of weapons from this hunt in the bag and he started making his way up the stairs.

"Dean, wait. You need to think rationally about this. Now you know where she is but now you need to think of-"

"Sam, I don't have the time to hear about how you think I should have a plan. I'll think of one when I get there." He said and started going back upstairs and he went out the door.

"Well this ought to turn out wonderfully." Muttered Sam sarcastically as he got up to follow his brother.

The two rode in the Impala, a vehicle Sam never thought he would be riding in again, and after a few minutes they made it to the store. Dean got out of the car before going into the store, doors unlocked. Well, simply because the lock had been destroyed before he got there.

When the two brothers went inside they saw that the door leading into the basement storage room was opened and Dean motioned for Sam to stay in the front incase anyone or anything else came to cause more trouble.

When Dean made it to the basement, he saw you tied up to a chair and paralyzed with the monster's venom.

"Y/N.." He breathed out and he rushed to you but that was when the Vetala came and grabbed Dean before sinking its fangs into your husband's neck, paralyzing him with its venom. You watched in horror when your husband fell to the ground.

"Took you long enough to arrive. Now you can watch as your beloved dies right in front of you just like you killed my partner and my family with your hunter friends." The creature seethed. You were still paralyzed by the venom since it hadn't left your system yet but you were conscious and helpless.

Then you watched as the Vetala came behind you and you closed your eyes preparing for the worst. Then you felt the pain of the monster's fangs in your neck again and it started to feed off you. You were loosing blood fast and you could feel the warmth of your blood dripping down your neck. Your vision went blurry and you felt weak.

But out of nowhere, you heard a gunshot.

Sam shot the monster, knowing all too well that's not how these creatures die but it would at least get it off you.

You weren't sure what happened next because by that time you blacked out. Your last thought were just of you wondering if you'd see Castiel and Jack again sooner than you thought you would.

After a few moments of combat, Sam killed the Vetala with the silver blade through the heart and a twist of the blade in the chest. Now the creature was nothing but a crumpled carcass on the ground. Then Sam managed to get you and Dean into the Impala one by one, he was able to get you both back to the bunker.

The venom wore off Dean within an hour and he was right by your side since you hadn't woken up yet. What if you lost too much blood? The wounds in your neck scabbed over and Dean cleaned them up and put a bandage on but shouldn't you have woken up by now?

He was holding onto your hand as he looked down at your sleeping figure. His mind was racing faster than it had in a long time. This was one thing he didn't miss about hunting, the lives put in danger because of creatures that are out there. He's lost so many people over the years with this job.

"You were right, Y/N. I get it, okay? Even simple jobs are dangerous." Dean whispered, "Just wake up, damnit. I need you here."

Sam walked into the room to see how you and Dean were doing and he frowned when he saw you still hadn't woken up yet. He walked in and handed Dean a mug of coffee, which Dean thanked him for but just set it on the night stand.

"What if she doesn't make it, Sam? The last conversation we had with each other was just a stupid argument. Me and my hard head..."

"Dean, the last thing I think Y/N would want is for you to be sorry for yourself. Just give her some time to rest. We got there as soon as we could. Yeah she may have lost blood but those things can't suck humans dry in a matter of seconds. She'll wake up soon. Weak as hell, yeah, but don't start thinking she's gone just yet." Sam tried to reassure.

Then Sam left the room again, presumably to call Eileen and let her know what was going on.

Dean continued to stay in your room for another hour and a half. His head was down as he looked at your hand in his, looking at the wedding bands you both had on. Never in a million years did he think he would get married. And because of this stupid case, he could lose you. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle that.

Meanwhile, you were coming to. You felt light headed you had to admit but you finally opened your eyes. You blinked a couple of times but you felt a familiar warmth on your hand. When you looked you saw your husband there by your side. He was unscathed for the most part which you were more than thankful for. He was alive, which made you glad.

But you saw the look on his face, the one with his face downcast and his brows narrowed as if he were lost in thought. You gave his hand the gentlest squeeze and you watched his head snap up and he looked instantly relieved when he realized your beautiful eyes were opened once again.

"Sweetheart, you're awake. How do you feel? Can I get you anything?" You heard him asking you and you laughed lightly.

"Dean, I could do without being bombarded with questions," You chuckled as he moved his chair closer to you, " But I'm okay. Just glad you're alright after all."

He looked at you with confusion. You were the one in bed recovering and you were talking about him being okay?

"Yeah... just fine." He said softly before he moved a strand of hair away from your face, "But you were right. Even the most basic of cases can be dangerous."

"Dean, I'm not worried about being right. I've been wrong about a lot too. I know that hunting is practically a part of your DNA. You were right, I should be more supportive of you going once in a while."

"Y/N, I'm retiring. For good this time." Dean said as his gaze softened.

"I'm getting to old to be on the field. I'm not in my twenties and thirties anymore. And even then, seeing you in danger like that and knowing that we really don't have a way to bring each other back anymore, it was a reality check I needed." He explained and he carefully reached out and cupped your cheek in his calloused hand. You leaned into his touch before reaching up and you moved a stray hair from his face.

"I just want you to be happy. I want you to be safe too but I know that I can't stop you from doing what you want to do." You said softly.

"I've been hunting my whole life. I think it's time for me to call it quits. I am happy here, especially since I have you. The world could crash and burn around me for the billionth time and I'd rather be here with you." He promised.

You smiled up at him, glad that he was making this choice after all. Maybe you could get back to your happily ever after.

"I love you, Dean Winchester." You said.

"I love you too, Y/N Winchester."

He slowly leaned in and you closed your eyes when you felt his soft yet slightly chapped lips capture yours in a sweet and loving kiss.

Thank You for Reading!!!

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any suggestions for another scenario you'd like to read about!

Tag List:

@chriszgirl92 @wildernessflora

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #Dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam and dean

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shadow-pixelle · 4 months

Text

The snippet continues...

Part one is here, and part two is here.

I've actually had this bit done for a while now, and I've got another couple of scenes ready to go. Plus I've started figuring out how we got here and some of the other worldbuilding stuff, too.

Might need to actually give this AU a name sometime soon.

Until then, though, enjoy the next chunk of things!

Danny felt a little bad for how quickly he relaxed once Hood was out of sight. It wasn’t like it was the guy’s fault that his core was fucked up.

But still, the pressure of not giving in to all his instincts calling for him to take the kid and run had been… difficult. Especially considering the atmosphere of the room.

He hadn’t been wrong earlier that kidnapping was a bad idea, right now.

Sam and Tucker both relaxed as well, which made Danny feel a little better about his reaction, and took their hands from where they were grabbing him. It wouldn’t have helped if he’d decided to say fuck it and lunge, but the pressure of them holding onto him had helped him remember not to phase into intangibility and portal out.

The tension wasn’t much better, though.

Nightwing was frozen, reaching out towards where Hood had ran like he could somehow grab the guy’s shoulder and stop him from bolting. The others in the room- Red Robin, Robin, Batman- were just as still; the two Robins staring at Danny, Batman staring at nothing.

Batman.

There was a twinge in the air, in their bonds, from Sam. She wanted to strangle him, and honestly, Danny wasn’t too inclined to stop her right now. That was probably the Protection spirit talking, really, rather than any sort of logic, but hey, sue him. He was a halfa and his Obsession was just as there as any other ghost. That meant keeping people safe.

And that was before he got into any of the Ghost King shit.

He felt Tucker reach around Danny’s back and grasp Sam’s elbow, apparently sensing both her wish for murder and Danny’s general lack of care.

“I think we should go.” Tucker said, quickly but quietly, in Danny’s ear. He huffed a little, but nodded, transforming back into his ghost form with a flicker. It would be a good idea to let everyone cool down after that, plus it would get Sam away from her current plant food target.

The shift seemed to snap the Bats out of it, at least a little. Nightwing snapped over to look at them, and Red Robin made a small sound. “Go?”

“And let you… process.” Danny said, wrapping his tail around Sam’s waist. She huffed, a sharp and violent sound, but finally relaxed entirely into him rather than preparing to snap, which was good. “I understand that there was a lot of information there, that you likely want time to think through.”

Tucker leaned a little forward again, a small nudge, and Danny nodded, knowing what he wanted. It was easier to focus on their Grief bonds now, with Hood’s core not in the room and making it hard to think beyond instincts if they weren’t talking.

“We’ll make contact with you again in a few days, or you can contact us.” He added. It wouldn’t be hard, Tucker had been working on figuring out some kind of link to them since they arrived here, and being in their home base would’ve helped. “But for now I think it would be best if we left.”

“But-” Nightwing glanced in the direction Hood had ran again, then back to them. Sam softened, a little, at the display of care, the air crackling with it.

“We’ll keep an eye out for him, and discuss the situation with our people.” She told him. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to help.”

“Thank you.” Nightwing said, voice cracking. Danny waited a moment, to see if any of them had anything else to say, then cloaked both his Griefmates in invisibility and intangibility in the same moment, moving to grab a more firm hold of Tucker and tightening his tail around Sam.

The Batman still wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t even moving, and Danny would’ve been more concerned if he’d had the room, but-

It had been a lot, and he was tired. More tired than he expected, just holding back the need to run away with Hood bundled between them.

And he still needed to call the Council, too, which was always going to be a nightmare.

A portal would have been too obvious, so Danny just flew straight up instead, pulling both his partners with him, and passed into the rock. From below them, there was a faint echo of something being thrown, and Nightwing’s voice shouting, “What the hell, B-?!” Danny winced a little and flew faster, all three of them keeping silent until they were well in the air- above the massive mansion above the Bat’s base, which was a wild thing even when they were used to the Mansons- and starting back towards the lights of the city.

“I’ll go and look for him.” Sam said, after a few minutes of flying. “I don’t- it’ll be hard, but I’ll be able to handle it.”

Danny would be the best to find Hood, with his ghost sense and the few powers the Crown granted him sometimes, but he was also the worst, because of his status as a halfa and Protection spirit. Tucker could probably do it just as well as Sam could, but his talents meant bunkering down with their computer setup and searching that way would be better than him looking in person.

So Danny just nodded. “Alright. Let’s go back to the apartment, first, and we’ll get one of the whistles out for you. I need to go to the Realms, so I won’t be able to make portals for you, but you can call Cujo to do it instead.”

“You think he’ll want to come to the Realms?”

Danny shrugged, a little. “Maybe. I think… he’s scared, probably. And I don’t think this place is safe for him.”

“The city or the dimension?”

“Not sure, yet. We’ll have to look into it more. But I don’t think it matters, whether it’s the city or the dimension. I don’t think this place is safe for him, and I think he might be scared. Admittedly he might be scared of us, which is bad, but I’m hoping he’ll let us try to help even if he is scared of us.”

“I’ll try to answer his questions, if he’s got any.” Sam frowned audibly, and both Danny and Tucker chuckled. They knew full well how difficult it was for Sam to tolerate people for any length of time, and explaining things was a nightmare for her if people didn’t listen, so hopefully Hood wouldn’t end up on the wrong end of her patience at all.

“Drop me off at the apartment too.” Tucker put in. “I’ll man the computers and see if I can find Hood anywhere on the cameras in the city.”

“Thanks, Tuck.” She smiled up at him. “I think I can guess where he went? But having some kind of eyes in the sky would be good.”

“You do?” Danny asked, looking down so he could raise an eyebrow at her. “How?”

“You know we thought there was a Haunt here?”

“Yeah, that Park Row place.” Danny nodded slowly, then paused. “Oh. You think that’s it?”

“I mean, it’d make sense, right? A ghost’s haunt always feels a little bit like them, and with Hood’s core as torn up as it is…”

Tucker nodded against Danny’s chest, humming. “Yeah, that would make sense. I didn’t think of that.”

“That’s what we’re for.”

“Ok, so Tucker back to the apartment, Sam to grab a whistle for Cujo and then out the door, and I’m off to the Realms.” Danny sighed a little. “Great. You guys get all the fun jobs. I get to enjoy fighting with the Council for like a week trying to make sure they don’t declare war or something while we’re still investigating. That’ll be just our luck.”

“Eh, I’m sure you can do it. They like you, after all.”

Danny just sighed again.

The rest of the trip back into the city and towards the apartment they’d rented wasn’t long or difficult, especially not when flying, and Danny easily phased through the window into the building proper. The second he let go of his Griefmates, they were off; Tucker went straight for the pile of tablets and PDAs and laptops that he’d built up, starting them up all at once with a push of power, while Sam went for the bedroom and their lockbox full of ghost stuff, coming back with a silver whistle that she tucked down the front of her dress so only the chain was showing.

“Want a lift?” He asked, and Sam laughed.

“No, I’ll be fine. Get moving, your Highness, you’ve got places to be.”

“Fiiiiiine.” Danny sighed again, flopping backwards dramatically just to see them laugh, and opened a portal to his Lair.

The feeling of being at home again settled over him like a weight, and he took a moment to shake himself out and settle into the feeling before starting to move.

Luckily, there were protocols and stuff for this kind of thing. And even more fortunately, Fright Knight was nearby and not roaming like he could have been. Danny barely got the doors open from his portal room into the main Lair before the Knight was there, hovering not far into the hall.

“Fright Knight.” Danny inclined his head, pulling at his core. The Ring and Crown formed with only a small amount of fuss- his living half causing them to complain, he knew- though he didn’t bother with any of the rest of the regalia he’d created in the past for situations like this. As strange as it sounded, this felt like something he had to approach more as Phantom, the Protection spirit and halfa, rather than the Ghost King, even though he knew he needed the Crown and Ring with him.

Instincts like that were strange, sometimes.

“Prince Phantom.” The Autumn spirit replied, saluting him. “Is something amiss?”

“We need to call the Council together, Fright.” He said, a small sigh. Him calling the Crown and Ring would have already started that process, with some of them, but not everyone was going to be in a position to notice that stuff, so it was better to tell Fright Knight so he could help get things going. “We’ve got a really bad situation in that world, and it’s going to need a lot of work.”

“How so, my Prince?” Fright Knight asked, even as his core flickered to call the various underghosts of the Lair to attention.

“The sort of thing where we might be declaring outright war on some people.” Danny told him, and watched the Fright Knight freeze.

“I see.”

#dcxdp #fic writing #my writing #random scenes from the abyss #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #at some point this will get a name i swear #braided fates au

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writersblockedx · 2 years

Text

Careful What You Wish For

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - Dean's been pining for his best friend for years now. Though, it isn't until he breaks out from the Jinn's dream world (in which she took the role of his girlfriend), that he comes clean. - Based off 2x20 Warnings - None I don't think (lmk if there are.) Words - 2.5K

A/n - I know I’m a little late, but I’ve just finished binge watching the first four season of Supernatural. I wasn’t really going to write any fics for the show, but this idea came to mind so.

MASTERLIST

Dean should have realised something was wrong when he woke up in the same bed as his best friend, surrounded by walls that weren't covered in tacky motel wallpaper. He didn't know it yet, but he was in a reality that wasn't his own. One of which he would soon learn was much better - at least so it was seen such on the surface.

Dean had attempted to wake Y/n, slightly nudging at her side that had only prompted her to stir, mumbling something the boy couldn't make out. So, he rushed from the bed, around this apartment he truly didn't recognise. Once he finally located his phone, he rang his brother, thinking that was his life line. But as Dean rushed out the words of 'Jinn' and other jumbles of words that this Sam didn't understand, the phone call ended, leaving Dean just as much in the blue as he had been prior.

"What's going on?" A voice had asked. Dean swirled on his feet, facing his best friend.

She wore only a t-shirt which hung by her thighs. His t-shirt. "Honestly, wish I knew." Dean muttered in reply as the girl wondered towards him.

His breath was suddenly caught in his throat when her hands wrapped around his neck. "Do I even want to know what time it is?" She questioned, a smirk gracing her lips.

He was barely able to shake his head, his thoughts bound to the girl in front of him. The girl who had been at his side for years. Who'd sit in the passenger seat of the car, fighting over what music to listen to. The girl who he just so happened to have been pining over for them many tormenting years.

Dean wasn't sure what sort of magic was in the mix, but he thanked God for it.

Y/n leaned into his lips and Dean could have sworn his whole body halted, just to catch up with what was happening. And by the time she pulled away, it was too late to settle into the feeling. "How about we get you back to bed, hm?" She encouraged.

The boy nodded, "Yeah, yeah." He agreed as she started stepping away from him. A part of Dean wasn't sure where he might wake up. Whether it would be here, in this apartment he wished he could know as home, or whether it would be that tacky motel room. "I've just got to check something."

Y/n glanced back at him, flashing a smile, "Okay." And then she disappeared back into their room.

The boy was taking a moment. His eyes scanning the living room where he found a certain photo that made all else seem like nothing. He moved forward, taking it into his grip as if to check it was real. A family photo with his mother. His living, breathing, mother. Maybe that was when he knew this was all too good to be true. He just didn't want to believe it yet.

Y/n had been quick to call Mary that night. With the smashed photo frame and the great escape Dean made, she had no idea what was going on. And the girl would be lying if she didn't say it worried her.

The only thing that got her through her shift the next day being the text Dean had sent her, assuring that everything was fine. She still left work early. No text would be certain to calm her mind. Yet, as she pulled up to the family home, birthday present in hand, her thoughts had yet to simmer.

Dean was sat on the steps to the porch, nursing a beer. He stood to his feet as the girl exited the car, wondering towards him. "Not going into work either?" She questioned him with one raised brow.

The boy shrugged and sent an uneasy smile. "Got the day off."

"You didn't tell me." Suppose running out the house in the middle of the night didn't give much time to. "You scared me last night, Dean, with that little runaway act." She admitted to him.

A sting of guilt hit Dean. Something he attempted to supress. "I'm sorry, but I promise I'm fine now, great actually." He assured.

Y/n didn't believe one word of it. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the girl could sense something was off. Her palm reached his forehand, checking for any sign of temperature. "What are you doing?" Dean inquired as he took her hand, lowering it from his temples.

"Checking for fever." She answered with a deadpanned expression that urged a smile to the boy's lips.

"I'm fine." He repeated. But it seemed no matter how many times he would say so, Y/n's mind wouldn't ease.

Yet she sighed in defeat. "Well then, since she's your mother, you should probably give her this." The girl untucked the present from under her arm, passing it to the boy.

Once again, the worry set in when he looked down at the wrapped gift as if it were a bomb. "What-" He stuttered out with narrowed brows. Though, Dean was unable to comprehend what had just happened, the sound of a car engine hitting his ears. The boy's gaze followed, landing on his brother's car, with a girl he knew to be dead in the passenger's seat. "I don't believe it."

Y/n lurked behind him as he wondered towards the car, squeezing Jess into a tightly knit hug before she'd even had a moment to exhale. The night followed with the same, odd, behaviour. And while Dean was simply basking in this new reality he seemed to have stumbled into, Y/n was growing more and more worrisome. Rushing after thin air in the restaurant, then wanting to spend more time with his brother than needed. To Y/n, at least the one in this make-shift world, it seemed cause for concern.

As the night drew into a close, and the couple made their way back home, things seemed to settle. Dean found himself laid across the couch, taunted by the lack of relationship he now had with his younger brother. "You feeling better now?" Y/n spoke as she joined him on the couch, tucked under his arm.

He looked back at her as if he had just snapped out of it. Y/n took that as a no. "Huh?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Maybe sleep will bring you around." She suggested. "Just, try not to run out in the middle of the night again yeah?" Dean nodded lightly but Y/n could tell he was somewhere else entirely. "Hey, whatever it is that's going on, you can talk to me about it. You know that, yeah?"

Y/n waited, searching through his pupils for any sign he might finally admit to whatever it was. "You'll think I'm insane." He told her.

She shrugged, "Don't I already?"

Dean glanced away for a moment, debating whether it was worth it. "This, here, everything, it's like a dream come true. I know how that sounds, but a lot is different today than it was yesterday." And yes, Y/n did think the boy was insane.

"And what's so different?" She questioned through soft eyes.

"I mean to start with, you, this place." He scanned around the apartment. "When I woke up yesterday, it was in a motel room, and you were in the bed across from me. And me and Sam, we were actually close. All three of us worked together." What Dean had feared was starring back at him: disbelief.

Y/n reached out her palm, brushing it over his cheek as to soothe him. But, instead, it seemed to have sent shivers down his spine. "I'm sure it was just a really vivid dream." She attempted to comfort him.

Dean bit his tongue after that.

It wasn't a vivid dream. And with his mind yearning at him to snap out of it, he knew he had no choice.

Dean couldn't look at Y/n the same way when he came back. His body aching with the blood that the Jinn had drained him off, clinging to the girl that carried him out of the warehouse. The feeling of her skin brushing against his suddenly came with memorises of holding hands and kisses. And she had no idea.

Once they made it back to the motel, Y/n demanded that Dean didn't move from the end of the bed until she gave him a once over. She perched next to him, legs cross as she inspected his neck where the needle had once pricked his skin, literally sucking the life out of him. "I told you, I feel fine." Dean said as her hand dropped from his skin.

"Well excuse me for giving a shit." She replied in a stern tone.

Yet, Dean responded with a smile. "Somethings never change."

Y/n's brow raised, "What does that mean?"

"Even in my fantasy dream world, you were still worried sick over me." Then his smile twisted into smirk that Y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe off him.

Instead, she let her eyes roll. "Next time, I'll make sure you to leave you suffering."

Sam wondered back towards his bed, ending the call he'd once been taken away with. "The girl's been stabilised." He informed as the two glanced over at him. "Good chance she's gonna pull through."

Dean nodded, "That's good."

A pause followed and Y/n noted the way Sam was debating something in his head. "So we really didn't get alone then?" He questioned.

The boy laughed at the Sam he had met in said dream land. "No."

"What about me?" Asked Y/n as her brow quirked in question. "Was I any different in this world?"

Silence came from Dean for a moment. Once again, he chuckled at what only he knew. And it was a humours thought when it came to preppy Sam being in law school, pretty much scared of the dark. But when it came to what had changed with Y/n and with them in this fantasy, that was something he truly wished for and now with it snatched from his grasp, his heart just couldn't help but ache.

So, in that moment, Dean opted only to smile as he faced Y/n. "A story for another time." He settled on.

Both Y/n and Sam fell into confusion at that. Dean soon pulled himself from the bed, wondering into the bathroom while the other two shared a look. "Did that seem odd to you?" Y/n questioned, her finger gesturing to where the boy had just been seated.

Sam nodded, "Sure he'll tell you the story after he's had a drink."

While Sam meant that as nothing more than a passing comment, it was plan the girl was sure would work on Dean. So, as they moved for the next town over, in search of a next job, Y/n suggested they spend some time at the local bar. There weren't many a time they were settled in a town where no demon, monster or creature was yet to be crawling for them. Which led both brothers to agree.

They must have only been three drinks in when Sam put his empty glass back to the table, a sigh following. "I think that's me done for the night." He uttered already grasping for his jacket.

"What? No, Sammy, come on." Dean urged through his own swig of beer. "Y/n was right, when are we next gonna be in bar because we're not investigating some spirit?"

Sam was standing from his seat, "Don't be back too late you two." He stated as he passed Dean, patting his back.

"Sleep well, Sam!" Y/n called, prompting the boy to glance back with a smile before he was gone.

Y/n looked over at the older brother, brow raised as she noticed the cogs in his brain were running. His eyes lit up, "Shots?" He smirked.

Had it been any later than it already was, Y/n probably would have declined. Yet, she found herself nodding. In a split second, Dean was out of his chair and to the bar, soon returning with two glasses of something shiny. "Cheers." Y/n spoke as the two raised their drinks, clinking them together. In sync, they swigged the liquid, burning at their throats before putting the glasses back down to the sticky table.

"So," Y/n started, her eyes exploring Deans in an attempt to grasp where his head was at. "Is this the time for that story?" She was testing the waters with her words.

Dean peaked at her over the shot glass, "What story?"

"About the dream world the Jinn sent you to." Dean's expression moulded into one Y/n was unable to depict. "When I asked about me in this world, you said it was a story for another time."

"Maybe after another shot." Y/n thought for a moment as they both went silent. And in one swift movement, she was at her feet, heading for the bar. "What? Y/n! I didn't mean that literally..." She was already gone.

Dean waited for her return, his fingers fidgeting as he attempted to look as held together as he was able. Even with three beers and some strange spirit down his throat, it didn't make this any easier. "Here." Y/n said, placing the glass down in front of him before taking her seat once again.

"What? No shot for you this time?" He questioned as he glanced down at the empty space on Y/n's side of the table. "This is extortion, you know?"

Y/n huffed as her elbows leant against the table and she got closer to Dean. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything Dean, but I've never known you to keep secrets from me." The boy could have laughed at the irony in that this secret was one of which he had been keeping from her for years now. "Which makes me think that whatever this something is that you're not telling me, it has to be bothering you."

Dean is silent for a couple of moments. He has to grip at all his thoughts. All of which are demanding he retreat as he does every time. But his heart can't help but yearn for his best friend sat in front of him. "When I woke up in that place, I was in this apartment. It was really nice. And in the bed I woke up in, you were sleeping next to me. But not as my best friend, or roommate. You were my girlfriend."

Oh.

Y/n's pupils were wide as she stared back at Dean. She was in doubt with every word. "That's what the Jinn does though, isn't it? Changes some things?"

Dean shook his head, "No. I had wished for it. I wished for it in that moment like I have been doing for years now."

Silence followed.

Dean was holding his breath. He was now the one scanning Y/n, hoping to dig inside whatever thoughts were floating around her head. "Dean..."

Her voice came out in sympathy that the boy had mistaken for pity. So, he was quick to retreat once again. "I know you probably think I'm stupid for even th-"

Y/n was leaning over, her finger tip grazing the bottom of his chin before meeting his lips. Dean was too busy trying to process the moment that he hadn't realised the kiss had happened until she was pulling away. A grin was quick to pull at his lips, "Wish we'd done that earlier."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winhester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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winchester-girl67 · 5 months

Text

Wild Hearts (Part 4) - Postcards From Dean

Summary: Postcards from Dean to Y/N; sent over the years they were apart.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Postcards @j3bingo

Word Count: 743

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16-22, Dean is 20-26), language, slow burn, long distance relationship of sorts, pining, maybe a little angst, time jumps, fluff

A/N: This part was written for @j3bingo go as a collection of AU postcards from Dean to Y/N.

_____

A few of your favourite postcards from Dean - from the six years you were apart.

___________________________________

Hey Y/N,

What do you write on a postcard?

Dean

P.S. I picked up a stack of these at a rest stop on the way to Sioux Falls and I thought you'd like some old school snail-mail. I'm aware that your parents and the mailman will probably read this too, so... I'm sorry I got your daughter into trouble and now she has- what, ten hours of community service left? But, she's kind of a badass and saved my life so don't go too hard on her.

P.P.S. And to the mailman: Not cool, dude.

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

Sam told me to start these with 'Dear' instead of 'Hey', I kind of like the way it sounds so I let him be right for once. Bobby and Jody are pretty cool, they won't even let me pay rent so we can save more money. We'll have a place of our own in no time now.

xo Dean

P.S. I hope the 'x' is okay, if not I blame Sam. If so, it was all my idea. You can't tell but I just winked at you.

P.P.S. It's my birthday and Jody made me a cherry pie! It was so good, I had every intention of saving you a piece but now I'll just have to learn how to make one for you instead. Can't wait for your phone call tonight so I can tell you all about it.

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

It took a little longer than I thought but we just moved into our own apartment! It's closer to Sam's college but we can still visit Bobby and Jody with a short car ride.

xo Dean

P.S. Think you'll come visit me on your gap year?

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

It snowed today! And I'm making pasta tonight. You can drool over it via video chat later. I wish we were in the same time zone so you could ring in the new year with me too.

I’m missing you a lot lately, xo Dean

P.S. I'm sending you a big fat kiss. You can put it where you want it. X

P.P.S. To the mailman: Get your mind out of the gutter. She's a lady!

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

I'm seriously craving Donna's mocha ice cream right now. I think it would go great with Jody’s cherry pie recipe. Don't knock it till you try it!

xo Dean

P.S. Sam hasn't stopped playing that playlist you made him for studying. I swear you have the worst taste in music. I'm going to make you a playlist tonight.

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

I think I like the mountains on this postcard best, we should take a roadtrip there together, maybe next Valentine’s day?

x Dean

P.S. I don't like airplanes.

P.P.S. But I'm going to take you to all the places on these postcards some day.

P.P.P.S. I hope you're still pinning these postcards to your wall so you can hold them over my head some day.

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

I'm sorry.

xx Dean

P.S. If I could have one superpower it would be the ability to control the weather.

P.P.S. Getting snowed in would be a lot more fun WITH you.

P.P.P.S. Maybe my superpower should’ve been teleportation! Damn it, is it too late to change my answer?

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

I just dropped Sam off for his first year of law school. I feel old. Luckily, he got another scholarship though, so I don't have to worry about paying his tuition. Kid's a major nerd.

x Dean

P.S. I'm actually in California! The salt air here makes me think of home, of you. You feel so far away right now. I'm not even looking at the same ocean. That sucks.

P.P.S. We haven't talked in a while and I know that's mostly my fault, but I wanted to give you a heads up. I'm coming home... Soon.

___________________________________

Dear Y/N,

Did you notice there's no stamp?

Always yours,

xoxo Dean

P.S. I was going to tell you to meet me where I first kissed you but that's a hell of a walk. So meet me under our streetlamp. The one where you put ice cream on my nose the first night we met.

P.P.S. I hope you come, I can't wait to see you. But I understand and no hard feelings if you don't.

_________________________

Part 5

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78

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pet-pet-peet · 1 year

Note

Can I’m have the dorm leaders x male reader who have a rare sickness that let him only eat desserts nothing else vegetables meat fruits nothing if he eat will appear strange stain on his skin and start to spill blood over his mouth headcanons

Omg I wish I could eat desserts all the time..

Also, I casually involve Sam because honestly he’s a cutie and no one gives him attention

I am trying to go through my drafts and post the ones I had done, this will not be inspired by canon!

Tw: Description of prior mentioned food sickness/allergic reaction like symptoms

Pairing(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x male reader who can only eat desserts (separate)

𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

He thinks it’s a bit odd that you eat so many sweets all the time, surely it isn’t good for you!

He holds an intervention over dinner, where he serves you a healthy dinner for any other human

You look at it, then deny it while you listen to his concerns, which makes him sigh and keep explaining his concern

You tell him about the illness you have, that there’s no way for you to eat anything else, and he seems to understand..kind of?

He definitely asks a lot of questions, since he’s never heard of the such before; but when he’s satisfied, he’ll make sure you have a healthy amount of sweets at your disposal

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖆

He’s very confused, but he doesn’t mention it at all; not until he notices that you deny any other food

He’ll ask Ruggie to bring some for you every now and then, and you end up just giving it away to someone else all the time

He’ll ask you why you deny literally everything that doesn’t have a sugar content, and you tell him pretty plainly that you can’t eat anything other than sweets

He doesn’t really do anything about it after, figuring that if you were lying about it you would cause it to backfire on you eventually

Accepts it more once he notices you don’t have any long-term effects, and you seem to be very healthy so he doesn’t care

𝕬𝖟𝖚𝖑

He’s been through a lot in regards to his weight, so he’s a bit cautious about calories and the kind of food he eats

He’ll probably think you weren’t being very honest with him..so he blended a bunch of stuff together that had nutrients and proteins he thought you needed

The poor thing was so scared when you started coughing blood, and when your skin started swelling and turning red-

Desperate, he takes you to Sam in hopes that he has some sort of cure or remedy in stock; luckily, he did

He apologizes profusely and promises he won’t do anything like that again, getting you all of the sweets you can eat to make it up to you

𝕶𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖒

He never questions you and accepts it at face value, he trusts you completely!

He makes sure the kitchen has all the ingredients necessary to make you whatever dessert or sweet you want to try or that you like

Makes you new desserts to try that he grew up with in the land of Scalding Sands, he likes being able to see how you react to them

Always has a dessert table just for you during his parties

Fine tunes his ability to sniff out poison for anything you can’t eat, too, as an extra precaution

𝖁𝖎𝖑

He’s very sus, but he’ll roll with it if it makes you happy and as long as you don’t seem to be crumbling in front of him

He does at one point do an oopsie, as he’s under the assumption that anything with sugar is okay for you to eat

So he decides to make an extra amount of his morning smoothie, just so he can share it with you!

He also panics, drops his smoothie all over everything when you cough out blood and swell up

Sam coming in clutch again to help a dying boyfriend due to his poor, distraught boyfriend’s mistake

𝕴𝖉𝖎𝖆

He doesn’t question you, either, just shrugs and says he’s fine with it since it’s how it is

He’ll try to do research on it when he can, though; it’s hard to find a lot because of how rare the disease is

He makes sure to keep snacks for you stored in his room when you pull all-nighters together

Might do some research into different desserts you’ve been wanting to try, then asks Trey if he can make them for you

Very supportive, especially since it gives him an excuse to stock up on candy

𝕸𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖚𝖘

He’s actually surprised; it’s very rare for him to meet someone with a condition he’s never heard of!

Might ask Lilia if he knows anything about it, but that’s an accidental curse as it influences the old fae to start cooking for you-

He likes to eat ice cream with you! It’s his favorite food, and it’s something you can indulge in together

Likes trying your favorite foods, some of them he’s new to since they’re not in the Valley of Thorns

His highlight is always when he’s able to sit under the stars with you, some sort of dessert in both of your hands; it lets him feel like a kid again

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

if you believe in me - the winter soldier x reader

Part 2 of my Ghost Story AU - Read the previous part here.

Plot: Y/N and Bucky flee her grandma’s house, and with the help of Steve and Sam, soon make it back to Avengers HQ, to safety. And there, Y/N learns the truth. Pairing: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, violence/abuse, trauma, blood, pain, torture, brainwashing, weapons, and everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier, and had done to him by HYDRA. Please use your own discretion. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: This is the very requested part two to my fic Ghost Story, so please read that first if you haven’t already. Thank you for loving this story so much and for wanting to see more! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Ready?” Bucky smiles. And without even thinking about it, Y/N nods. Even though they've only known each other for about a week, she’d follow him anywhere.

“Okay. We’ll get the jet sorted. Wheels up in less than two hours. We’ll be back at HQ by tomorrow morning.” Sam explains. And then, Y/N and Bucky are alone again.

“How are you feeling about all this?” She asks, and Bucky raises a brow.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who’s had your whole life upended for the second time already. Sorry about that, by the way.” Y/N shrugs.

“Bucky.” She soothes. “You don’t have to be sorry. I understand why you did it. You were terrified of going back to HYDRA and thought I posed a threat. You were just trying to protect yourself.” Bucky nods. But he still feels awful about scaring her so badly, and making her think for even a second that her life was in jeopardy. At least now he knows that Y/N could never hurt him. Honestly, he doesn’t think she has an evil bone in her body. Not like him, with all the blood he has on his hands. No matter how much he tries to repent, that blood will still be there. He’s always going to be the Winter Soldier. A murderer. “Well, your life has completely changed in less than an hour. You’re going home with your friends who love and care about you. It’s probably a lot to take in.” Y/N continues. And she’s right. Honestly, Bucky feels like he just got his old life back, handed to him on a silver platter. Or at least, he’s on the steps to it. “I’m glad you’ve got it back, Bucky.” She’s so kind. Even when he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Honestly, he’s not quite ready to live this new life yet. At least, not without Y/N. She’s a big part of his life now, too.

Yet, he notices that there’s something troubling her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.” He can tell that she doesn’t want to take away from his happy moment with his friends by talking about her problems. But Bucky wants her to know how incredibly grateful he is to her, and that she means a lot to him. And that includes her feelings and her worries.

He doesn’t know what angel was looking down on him the day he found Y/N’s grandmother’s house, but he’s so glad that they were. After all, if it wasn’t for Y/N, he wouldn’t have his life back. She saved his life.

“Y/N. It’s okay. Just tell me the truth. We’ve been through a lot already, remember?” He points out, and Y/N chuckles. Some may find it strange that they’re laughing about everything they’ve been through, but he already feels close enough to her to do so. And that’s why he’s even more glad that she’s coming with them.

“I just.” She sighs, still clearly unwilling to admit her feelings. Yet, when Bucky prompts her further, she explains. “I feel weird about leaving all my grandmother’s stuff here. It’s the main reason I came here after all. What if you’re right, and HYDRA comes looking for us? I don’t want it being destroyed. That's all I have left of her.” Bucky nods. He understands her worries, of course. If there was anything that reminded him of his past, he’d want to keep it safe too. He just wishes there was something to remind him of his old life, when he was still Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier. But since he can’t do that, the least he can do is help Y/N keep her grandmother’s memory alive.

“Well, how about you bring a few things with you, and I’ll help you put some stuff away and hide it? And once this is all done, I promise that we’ll come back and get her stuff. Whatever you want, and whatever you need. Just us two.” Y/N nods, smiling softly. Although that’s all she wants, she knows that Bucky’s just trying to keep her morale up. Honestly, she’s not holding out much hope for her grandmother’s things if HYDRA does come knocking, whether they’re hidden or not. Ideally, she’d stay here, keeping them safe whilst trying to live as normal a life as possible. She knows there’s no way Bucky can promise something like that.

Yet, she appreciates Bucky’s effort to cheer her up all the same. Because she knows the alternative is much worse than what he’s proposing. And besides, she knows that when it comes down to it, her life is worth more than some photographs. And of course, her grandma would’ve wanted her to stay alive too. “Just us two.” Bucky’s voice echoes in her mind. Deep down, she hopes that will be their future. Her and Bucky, just like it was before.

“Okay.” She nods. “That sounds good.”

Despite the cramped jet, Y/N is glad to be on the way to safety. Or at least, what she hopes is safety. During the ride, there is mostly silence with the occasional bit of small talk here and there. But Y/N is glad to be sitting in silence. Being in such close proximity to Captain America and the Falcon is making her heart race already, let alone the thought of making small talk with them. Y/N looks at the lights below as the sky darkens, once again realising how different her life has become since going through everything with Bucky. She’ll never be able to return to a normal life after this. Whatever ‘normal’ is now. What if HYDRA hunts them down for the rest of their lives? What if she can never go home again? …Wherever her home is now, that is.

But despite that, she’s glad that she and Bucky have been brought closer together. They’ve really made a connection, despite how they met. And at least she’s going through this new and unfamiliar experience with him. After all, she trusts him.

Some time later, Bucky glances over, checking on Y/N. She’s asleep, softly snoring as her chest slowly rises and falls. He smiles, watching her for a little while. It reminds him of the night she took care of him, cleaned his wounds, and made him some food. That night was the night everything changed, and he started to see Y/N in a new light, as a carer rather than a danger to him. Maybe, Bucky thinks, he was wrong. When he said an angel was looking down on him when he found Y/N’s grandma’s house… maybe Y/N was the angel all along, sent to show him that there’s still good in the world after everything he went through.

The morning after, he had woken up feeling more refreshed than he ever had before. And then, he noticed Y/N fast asleep in the armchair beside him. Without even thinking about it, he had wrapped a blanket around her. Even thought it was a small gesture, it was the least he could do after all she had done for him. After that, he didn’t even focus on his mission, or make sure that HYDRA wasn’t tracking them. He just watched her. Making sure she was okay. She seemed so at peace, compared to the first time they met. As the sun rose and its golden glow shone on her face, Bucky registered his heart beating ever so slightly faster. And this time, it wasn’t because of fear. He’s started to get that feeling a lot more, he’s realised. At least, whenever Y/N is around.

But before he has time to dwell too much on that feeling, Steve interrupts with a “We’ll be there in about an hour.” Sighing, Bucky nods, and his stomach begins to churn. God knows what awaits him when they land, when he’s brought back in front of the Avengers after killing so many innocent civilians. Of course, Steve and Sam reassured him they would stand by him and explain that it wasn’t his fault, but Bucky knows it won’t make much difference. Controlled or not, he still did it. He looks back over at Y/N, still fast asleep and completely unaware of just how deep this goes… and all the violence that Bucky is capable of.

Ideally, she’d never know, because Bucky doesn’t want Y/N to be afraid ever again, especially not of him. He doesn’t want to lose her, either. She’s done so much good for him, more than he could ever deserve, and he’ll protect her from everything bad in the world.

Even him.

Avengers HQ, Y/N soon learns, is a lot bigger than she expected. As soon as they arrive, someone takes Steve and Sam away for questioning. And with that, she's also reminded of just how unimportant she is compared to her companions. An innocent civilian who had her life turned upside down overnight, someone who doesn’t fit in this life full of superheroes and secret agents. As people mill about the building, looking at her curiously, she wonders what they’re thinking, and what’s going to happen to her.

“Are they going to want to question me, too?” Bucky shrugs.

“Maybe. Steve and Sam are the Avengers, so they’re the ones who are in high demand right now.” But before Y/N can say much else, a group of guards suddenly swarms the pair. Two of them grab Bucky’s arms.

“Sir, come with us.” One of them orders.

“Wait, what’s going on?!” Y/N calls, trying to jump in and stop them. Steve and Sam hear her cries and come rushing. Yet, the guards ignore her and start dragging Bucky away. And the whole time, Bucky doesn’t fight it. Instead, he gazes back at Y/N sadly. And then, he just lets them take him. “Bucky!” Y/N calls after him. She tries to go after him, to make sure that he’s alright… but a guard angrily gets in her face.

“Ma’am. Move back, or we will make you move.” He snaps, the heat of his breath against her skin making her flinch.

“But-” Yet, before she can plead Bucky’s case any further, Steve steps in, gently pulling her back.

“I understand, sir. I-I’m sorry.” Y/N tries to wriggle out of his grasp, to run after Bucky down the hallway, but Steve’s firm grasp on her arm stops her.

“Steve, where are they taking him?!” she demands. Steve sighs, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, the first time she met Steve flashes in her mind. His tall, confident pose, the image of a hero. Now, he looks the complete opposite. He can’t even look her in the eyes.

“He’s going into a holding cell, Y/N.”

“Why is he in a cell? Have they taken him into custody?” When she sees the nervous glance Steve and Sam give each other, her brow raises.

“It’s just a precaution.”

“For what?! Sure, he scared me at first, but he did nothing to hurt me. He’s not dangerous.” She insists. “I can go explain to them, Steve. Just let me go!” Yet, both of them are still quiet. And Y/N feels her stomach drop. “Guys…what’s going on?” Steve sighs, releasing her arm and running a hand through his hair.

“There’s something you should know about Bucky.”

The pair sit her down first, making sure she’s comfortable. Despite knowing their actions are coming from a place of kindness, they only make her more nervous. Whatever they’re about to tell her, it can’t be good. And then, slowly, they explain everything that Bucky did whilst under HYDRA’s control. All the blood that stains his hands, and all the lives he’s destroyed. Even everything he tried to do to Steve and Sam before Steve managed to get through to him. Y/N sits there, silent as she takes everything in.

“He told me about HYDRA, and what they did to him. Why didn’t he tell me about this?” She gasps, suddenly grateful to be sitting down. If she hadn’t have been, she swears she may have collapsed.

“He probably didn’t want you being even more frightened, especially after he already pointed a gun at you.” Y/N takes a few breaths to calm herself down, her heartbeat racing. Although she knows she has no right to demand more information about Bucky’s trauma, she would’ve rather heard this from him, on his terms, instead of after he’s been dragged down a hallway by armed guards like some sort of animal.

“B-But it wasn’t him, was it? At least, he wasn’t in the right state of mind. He told me they wiped his memory, so they must’ve done something to make him like this, right?!” she demands, not even realising how shaky her voice is. Sure, they got off on the wrong foot at first, to put it lightly, but Bucky has been so kind to her. The idea that someone like that could be responsible for something like this….

And then, she remembers their first meeting, and the gun pointed directly in her face. At first, she put it down to how terrified Bucky must’ve been to hear her walking into the room, and when she learnt just what he’s been through, that confirmed it for her. All this time, she assumed he thought she was a HYDRA agent, but stopped when he realised she was just a civilian. Now, she sees it in a new light. He really was about to kill her, after all. She was a witness to him, and he was told that witnesses need to be silenced. After all, he silenced everyone else.

No wonder she thought he looked like some kind of super trained assassin. He’s been one this whole time.

“We don’t know the full extent of what HYDRA did to him, but now we know that yes… they brainwashed him, and manipulated him into doing it. It wasn’t Bucky’s choice.” Sam confirms. Y/N nods. That makes her feel a little better about the situation, but it still doesn’t help calm her. The same fears she had when she first met Bucky, about how she was going to die and wondering just what sort of monster she was suddenly sharing her grandmother’s house with, now rear their ugly heads once more. She tries to push them down, to picture the memories she has with Bucky now. Smiling, laughing, happy times.

He’s not dangerous. He can’t be. She saw the way he looked at the world, and at her.

“The three of us know Bucky’s not dangerous, but in the eyes of the law, he is. He killed a lot of agents too, not just civilians. So for now, he has to be treated as such.” Steve adds. Y/N doesn’t respond.

She could’ve died.

She should be dead.

But something stopped him. Somehow, she got spared.

“Look, it’s been a long day. How about we get you some food, and find a place to-”

“Why didn’t he kill me?” She asks, cutting him off. When neither of them replies, she continues. “You said it yourself. HYDRA sent him out to kill their detractors and told him not to leave any witnesses. I’m a witness. Fuck, I surprised him in his safe hiding place. He could have shot me right away without a second thought, but he didn’t.” Her voice gets louder and louder as she speaks, almost yelling.

“We don’t know either.” Steve shrugs. “Hell, I’m his oldest friend and he still tried to kill me at first, even when I told him who I was. Maybe his brainwashing was fading, and he felt safe around you. Or maybe he took pity on you.”

“You took care of him, too.” Sam points out. “That probably helped him not see you as a threat.”

Despite nodding her head in agreement with their explanations, Y/N still can’t understand why she was spared while others weren't. Sure, perhaps Bucky’s brainwashing was wearing off, and that’s why he took pity on her, but given what she’s heard about him and what he’s capable of, she’s still surprised that she survived their first encounter completely unscathed without so much as a bruise. Maybe there’s more to it, another reason she could bring him back and convince him to let her live where others failed.

And she wants to know what it is.

A few moments later, a woman approaches the trio. Her brunette hair is tied in a pristine bun, and her eyes pass over the three of them. When she reaches Y/N, her brow quirks. Y/N gulps. Here it comes. Is she going to be hauled into an interrogation room? Or arrested for knowing too much about all of this? She could make a break for it, but she’s already seen the weapons their guards carry, and she definitely does not want to be on the receiving end of them.

“Maria. Nice to see you again.” Steve chuckles. She doesn’t laugh.

“Fury wants to see you in his office. Immediately.” She states. Judging from her stance, Y/N can tell she’s important, and that she means business. In other words, do not get on her bad side. As Steve and Sam start walking, Maria raises her brow again, glancing over at Y/N. “You too.” She beckons. Quickly, Y/N follows behind them, murmuring a ‘sorry’ to Maria.

The office is pristine, and full of tech that Y/N could only ever dream of affording. God, she definitely does not fit into this life. A figure stands at the front of the room.

“Rogers. Wilson.” He speaks, and both nod. And then, the man notices her. “You must be Y/N Y/L/N.” Y/N’s brow furrows.

“How do you-”

“I know everything there is to know.” The man replies. “I’m Director Nick Fury. I’ve heard a lot about you, and how you helped Barnes.” Still surprised, Y/N nods. Guess she has to get used to people knowing every little detail about her life now. And if the Avengers know every aspect about her life, that means HYDRA will too, if they’re looking for her. Because that’s not terrifying at all.

“I did. So, what happens now?”

“Well, we have to monitor him for a while until we’re sure he’s not a threat. I assume Rogers and Wilson told you about the Winter Soldier?” She nods again, too afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Good. As for you, you’ll be moved into a safe house until things are under control. We’ll put agents around you to make sure nothing happens.” When she blinks in surprise, Nick’s brows furrow. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not at all, it’s just….” She sighs. “I wasn’t expecting all this. Honestly, I didn’t realise I was worth the trouble.” She chuckles awkwardly. Nobody else laughs. When she first came here, Y/N didn't know what she expected. But it definitely wasn’t this, to have so many people trying to protect her of all people.

“Well, there isn’t much choice. You’re not an Avenger, so you can’t stay in the compound with the others.” The casual nature of his tone surprises her. As if her staying with Iron Man, Captain America, the Falcon and their friends was ever a possibility. “But you are a witness, and you’re interlinked with Barnes’ life now, arguably just as much as these two.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far-”

“To HYDRA, that makes you incredibly valuable. They want to get their soldier back, and they won’t hesitate to go after his friends to get him. And that includes you.” He insists, cutting her off. Her cheeks heat up slightly at being called Bucky’s friend. She never saw herself as that. Bucky was just a guy she was sharing her life with, and they slowly got closer to one another. Yet, after how close they’ve become, and how she followed him here with little prompting, he’s right. Obviously, part of her decision making was because she didn’t want to have to fend off a mass of HYDRA agents on her own, but the majority of it was because she didn’t want to leave Bucky. It feels like their time together has only just begun, and she wants to stay and help him with his healing journey as much as she can. Honestly, calling Bucky her friend feels right. “Understand?” Nick asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

As Fury continues to explain the situation and where she’ll be staying, Y/N’s mind goes back to Bucky. God knows where he is. Hopefully somewhere safe, where he can heal. What if he gets hurt? Or he gets shoved in jail and she never sees him again?

“Any questions?” Y/N takes a breath, unsure of how this is going to go. But it’s all she cares about.

“Can I see him?”

Downstairs, Bucky sits in his cell, strapped in as much and as tightly as possible for everyone’s safety. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been since they brought him here, since he saw Steve, Sam…and Y/N. Although he knows that they’re safe now, and he’s going to get what he deserves, he wishes he was back at her grandma’s house with her. Just the two of them. Sure, HYDRA was probably hunting them down, and they likely still are, but at least they were both happy together. He would have fought tooth and nail to protect her. He would fight tooth and nail to protect her.

So why didn’t he stay there, with her?

Why didn’t he fight for her?

Groaning, Bucky tries to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. Although, considering both his hands are shackled, that’s easier said than done. The metal handcuff digs uncomfortably into his skin, and he hisses in pain. Of course, he knew that after what he did, he wouldn’t be allowed to move around freely, or be entitled to any comfort. His time as an assassin is finally catching up to him.

Right on time, he registers the guard outside murmuring something to his colleague, and then they glance back at his cell. Bucky can only pick up a few words from their conversation, but he can tell what sort of things they’re saying from the way they look at him. Although he can’t say that he’s surprised. Who would be okay with being forced to watch over an assassin 24/7? Even though he escaped HYDRA’s grasp and is slowly starting to remember who he is, there’s no way anyone is going to trust him ever again, or see him as anything but a monster.

And even though he isn’t surprised by their judgemental looks, it still fucking hurts to be stripped of your identity over and over, tortured and brainwashed just for someone’s sick fantasy. And even after escaping all that pain, he’s forever tainted by something he never wanted to do. Something that wasn’t his fault, while the people who did this to him escaped or were killed before they could be brought to trial. Despite the things he did, Bucky’s a victim too… and yet, he seems to be the only one being punished.

Frustrated, hot tears stinging at his eyes, Bucky closes his eyes, hoping he can at least imagine something better, more comfortable. And then… he remembers the softness of Y/N’s grandma’s couch. After so long running, he could finally sleep, and it was the best damn sleep of his entire life. Until Y/N woke him up, that is. Y/N. Where is she now? Hopefully, she’s safe. Even though he knows and hates how everyone is going to see him as a monster now… all he cares about is what Y/N thinks of him. Although they only met a week ago, somehow, she means more to him than anything in the world. Even thinking about her and her smile makes him feel a little better.

Then, a memory of them both replays in his mind.

“You want some music?” She asks, sorting through some records and tapes. “My grandma was a huge fan of all different genres, so we have plenty of choices.” She chuckles. Bucky doesn’t reply, transfixed by the sheer number of records in front of him. Some names trigger some recognition in his brain, but nothing too intense. He peers down at the ones in front of them, reading the names aloud.

“The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Beatles….”

“If you see anything you want to play, just tell me. Your choice.”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I-I don’t know any of these.” He sighs, disappointed by his inability to choose something.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She reassures him, placing her hand on his forearm reassuringly.

Even now, Bucky remembers how that touch felt. The comfort and the support behind it. He misses that warm touch more than anything.

“I have an idea.” She smiles, picking up a record and putting it on the player. “My grandma loved this one, and I think you’ll like it too.” Soon, the vocals of Ella Fitzgerald begin to play, and recognition dawns on Bucky’s face.

“W-Wait! I remember her voice.” He furrows his brow, listening closer. “I think I remember this song, too.” Y/N grins.

He remembers Y/N’s smile too. As bright as the sunshine. And despite how cold and alone he feels right now… that smile still makes him feel as warm and comfortable as he did the first time he saw it. “Say it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea.” Bucky sings to himself softly. “But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believed in me.”

And he does have someone to believe in him. Y/N. Even after everything he did, she still treated him with kindness, and saw him as more than he was. He just wishes he saw himself that way, too.

The door to Bucky’s cell opens. Closing his eyes, Bucky braces himself, waiting for whatever’s in store for him. After being under HYDRA’s control for so long, he’s almost expecting the same abuse that he suffered at the hands of his superiors. Yet, when he opens his eyes again, focusing on the figure that just entered the room, his eyes widen.

“Y/N? W-What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, my god… Bucky.” She gasps, taking in the sight in front of her. And how tightly they have strapped Bucky in. When he sees the look of guilt and shame on her face, Bucky’s heart sinks. Although Y/N believes in him, he hates that she has to see him like this, like some sort of caged animal.

“Y/N. You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.” He tells her, but she ignores him.

“Why have they strapped you in so tightly? You’re not dangerous, and you’re not going to hurt anyone. Steve and Sam told me it wasn’t your fault.”

“We can’t take that risk. After my past, they want to make sure they know everything about me and what I’m capable of first. And then…” He pauses, as the full weight of the situation dawns once again. “They’ll decide what to do, and how to punish me.”

“Is there going to be a trial?” She asks. “I-I’ll testify. Say that you aren’t dangerous.”

“Y/N-”

“If they had just seen the way you looked at me, or how we laughed-”

“That’s not going to be enough!” He insists, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. Sighing, Bucky clears his throat. “We still don’t know the risks, and the last thing I want is you getting hurt. So, you should go.”

“It is! It is enough! And I know you’re not dangerous.” She exclaims, tears falling down her cheeks. “I know that because you spared me, despite all your training and the things you’ve done before. For some reason, you didn’t kill me.” She’s right. After all the victims he’s had, Y/N is the only one where he let them go free. And he still doesn’t know why. But despite that, he knows that isn’t going to do much to help his case. One victim spared, compared to the thousands he killed, is purely a drop in the ocean.

“Y/N.” Bucky sighs. “I appreciate the offer, but really… it’s not worth it.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “It may not have been my choice, but I still did it. And I deserve whatever I’m about to get.”

“You promised me, remember? That we’d be back in my grandma’s house again, listening to music or going through old pictures. Just the two of us.” Bucky’s stomach twists. “I’m not giving up on you.” She tells him, and something deep in Bucky’s stomach flutters. “We may not know why you spared me, but there has to be a reason. And I’m going to find it. Because it proves that you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.” Stepping closer, she places her palm against the glass. Bucky’s arm twitches, almost as if he was about to place his hand on the opposite side, over hers. “We’ll get through this. I’m not giving up on you.” She repeats, and Bucky can’t keep a smile from growing on his face.

Say it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea.

But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believed in me.

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