#I get so fucked up when Sam just twists the knife on that poor dude

[apocalypseornaw]

Don't Blame Me (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

A rescue and a second chance

Warnings: cursing, mention of violence

It was a strange feeling, regaining consciousness. You hadn't been knocked out since you were a human and considering you had several years under your belt since then, re-adjusting to it was strange.

The ache in your shoulder told you that bullet you'd been clipped with was a devil's trap one. You strained your neck down to look at the straps holding you to the table and recognize the language,Enochian. Fuck you were screwed.

You heard footsteps getting closer and knew better than to attempt to pretend to still be out. Instead you decided on the false bravado act, you'd perfected it your first hundred years or so on the racks “Why is it you fella always feel the need to strip a gal down? While I do appreciate that you left the bra and panties that was a limited edition Led Zeppelin shirt. If you fucked it up I'm gonna be pissed” 

The laugh that hit your ears made the skin on the back of your neck crawl. How fucked do you have to be to make a demon get the ick? “I heard you had that mouth on you. I see why Winchester and Crowley like you”

The demon finally came into view. He was wearing a skin head as a meat suit. Dude even had a certain nazi symbol tattooed on his ball head. No wonder he set off your creep radar “Don't know if you got your signals crossed but hello? Demon. Dean doesn't exactly want me anymore as for Crowley I come in handy to have around but at the end of the day I'm just his pet hunter nothing more”

You saw the knife when he picked it up and nearly asked him if he had forgotten you were a demon too until you saw the holy water vial. You  struggled against the straps but that sent a jolt of pain through you so you were stuck watching as he first wet the knife with the holy water then dumped salt along the blade. He sent you a smile right before he slammed the knife into your leg closest to him.

You didn't give him the pleasure of a scream. You did however bite into your cheek hard enough you caught the taste of blood on your tongue. He didn't seem put off by your refusal to scream, no he seemed to enjoy it. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Don't underestimate yourself Y/N. You've been Crowley's right hand woman for years. You fast tracked your way off the racks and even managed to get your original body back. Even the big guy was impressed with that” your breathing was a little haggard from the effort to keep your voice steady as you said “Oh poor Luci. Stuck in the cage and seeing a hunter get pulled out of hell. Must have sucked for him”

That seemed to strike a nerve because the next thing he did was retrieve the holy water vial. He kept his eyes on yours as he uncapped the vial then twisted the knife in your leg before pouring the holy water into the wound.

It felt like flames were gnawing through your bone and the scream that escaped your lips echoed off the walls. A grin split his face “Attagirl. Let's see if we can make ya scream like that some more” “I spent three hundred years on the racks. Bring it asshole” You spoke through gritted teeth. He shook his head and walked over to a table in the corner of the room “Careful what you ask for”

 

“What are we looking at here Crowley?” It was the first time Dean had spoken since they got to where you were being held. “Dozen or so demons. Lucifer's last two remaining hellhounds” 

“Hellhounds?” Sam asked about the time a puff of air alerted them to a presence at Crowley's side. He reached out and patted what looked like air to them but they knew it was a hellhound “Don't worry boys. If they're between this one and Y/N they don't stand a chance”

Dean hated hellhounds. Death by them would do that to you but this once he let his eyes linger on the empty space where Crowley's hand rested “You take care of the other hounds we'll get the rest” a low growl was the response he got and Crowley nodded “I think she agrees with the plan”

He looked back at Sam “No one gets to smoke out. They were dead the moment they touched her” Sam nodded, gripping an angel blade in his hand “Let's go get her”

You could feel tears drying on your face. Flashbacks of your first couple decades on the racks ran through your head. You had to hand it to Skinhead, he was creative. 

He placed one of the tools back down on the table, it was slick with your blood. “What's the point of taking me? The point of torturing me?” 

He grinned again “Crowley will come for you. The Winchesters will come for you. We kill them and get the big guy out with no one guarding hell” you shook your head “No they won't. I'm nothing to Crowley, just another flunkie and as for the Winchesters you fucking idiot I'M A DEMON. THEY KILL DEMONS!” 

You groaned with pain from the effort of yelling at this idiot. Lucifer sure knew how to pick em didn't he? 

Your head fell back against the bed with a heavy thud. Skinhead went to grab another toy but the sound of a howl echoed through the building, you knew that howl anywhere. Juliette.

He looked back at you “How the hell did you get a hound?” You grinned despite the blood you knew stained your mouth “Just lucky I guess” 

He grabbed an angel blade off the table and looked back at you “You'll be dead before she ever reaches you” your eyes widened looking at the blade but then another sound caught your ears, the sounds of fighting. You could hear a  shout about the Winchesters. He'd come for you, black eyes and all he'd come.

You cut your eyes up at skinhead “Doesn't matter cause Dean will rip you apart” he raised the blade and went to plunge it into your heart.

—-------

Lucifer's hounds were dead, along with most of the demons. Dean was fighting one when it went down to the floor, a spray of blood separating its head from its shoulders then he felt a large head nudging at him. It was eerie being that close to a hellhound but then a thought occurred to him. 

He looked towards the feeling of the head despite not seeing anything besides dark blood dripping to the floor. He wanted to ask if the hound was hurt considering you had a bond with her but he couldn't exactly see and Crowley was with Sam disposing of the rest of the demons. 

“Did you find her?” a low growl responded so he nodded “Lead the damn way” He felt teeth grab his jacket sleeve and despite it all let himself be led further into the warehouse before the teeth were gone from his sleeve and all he saw was large bloody footprints leading away. She was running to you.

—-------

You braced yourself for a blow that never came, instead the demon was knocked flat on his back with Juliette on top of him. “JULIETTE!” You screamed. She was covered in deep gashes and looked like she'd been through a literal war but she was doing her best to keep him from getting up.

You lost track of the fight considering they'd rolled further than your straps would let you see but you could hear her growls. You struggled against the straps, tears streaming down your face from the pain. 

The moment the door burst open and Dean was there you heard a low whine and the fighting stopped. “Kill him” You whispered and Dean snatched the demon to his feet and slammed the demon blade into his throat before turning back to where you were tied down.

“She's dead isn't she?” He nodded before covering the space between you. He quickly untied you and pulled his flannel off to wrap around your shoulders. “You came for me?” You asked a mixture of pain and emotion threatening to drown you. His eyes flicked across your face looking for permission and when you sagged against his chest he pulled you into his arms “Even in death sweetheart”

You finally broke, demon or not you sobbed into his chest as he held you. “I still love you” you admitted and he kissed the top of your head “I still love you too. Nothing could change that”

—--------

Crowley and Sam burst in the door and looked around. Crowley's eyes landed on Juliette’s body “That's unfortunate” you sniffled harder laying your head back over on Dean's chest “Get me out of here Dean”

You sat at one of the tables in the library of Sam and Dean's bunker. It was technically a men of letters bunker that their grandfather had given them the key to, with them you didn't question the fact that their grandfather had been dead as long as he had.

Crowley had given the ok for you to go with them after he lifted the warding the witches had put on you. You'd been sitting for the last half an hour listening as Sam explained the fact that they'd found a cure, you had a chance to be human again. The bad part? It had a chance of killing you. 

Dean's arm was around your shoulders, your head against his chest. He hadn't spoken but every time Sam mentioned the risks his muscles tensed. Once Sam was through you nodded “When can you get the blood?” 

Dean's arm slipped from around you and he walked out the room. Sam looked from his retreating back to you “Do you want to think it over a little more?” You shook your head “My life, my risk. Go get the blood. I'll talk to him” he nodded and started to walk out but stopped then walked over to pull you out of your chair and into a hug “It's good to have you back” 

You smiled up at him “After this works i'll be back fully then” he pressed a kiss to your forehead “I'll be back soon”

—---------

You walked softly down the hall towards the room where Dean had showed you was his. You started to knock on the door but just walked in instead. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and glanced up when you walked in “It could kill you” “It's my life to risk. Dean I love you but a Winchester with a demon? That'll never work. I need to be me again fully. I want your support but if we really want another chance these?” You let your eyes slip then added “They gotta go”

He nodded then held out his hand to pull you closer. You were standing between his legs and he had his hands resting on your thighs “I need to tell you something” you leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips “I think I know”

He looked up into your eyes and damn he had tears in his. “They didn't mean anything. I just missed you so damn much” you nodded, feeling your own eyes tear up before admitting “I wasn't exactly a nun Dean” he flinched slightly “As long as it wasn't Crowley I'm good sweetheart” You laughed and shook your head “No Crowley” 

He pulled you forward causing you to have to climb into his lap to keep from losing your balance. He moved back further in the bed then looked up at you “You don't know how amazing it is to have you in my arms. I don't mean to be an ass about this cure but I've lost you once and it nearly killed me” you rested your head over in the bend of his neck and placed a kiss on his pulse “Then be with me for the cure. Hold me. If it goes south at least we get a goodbye this time”

 

The armory of the bunker had been cleared out. There was a devil's trap painted on the floor and Sam had made a decent looking pallet of blankets. When you questioned it he'd shrugged “It takes hours and you've got to be in it the whole time” 

You nodded then smiled “Thanks Sam” you looked back at Dean who grabbed your hand “C'mon sweetheart..I'm with you”

—-------

Dean was scared. He had just gotten you back and now he was holding you in his arms while you were washed down in sweat, your entire body shivering with every breath you took.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him from where you lay in his lap “I'm ok Dean. I'm ok” he smiled despite the thoughts in his head “I know sweetheart. I know”

—---------

“Last shot” Sam announced, injecting you with the final vial. You inhaled sharply, curling into Dean. “Fuck it hurts” you whined and he rubbed your back soothingly “Just breathe baby. Breathe”

You weren't sure if hours or minutes passed before the shivering and pain stopped. You slowly looked up at Dean who pushed your sweat soaked hair back from your face. “How are you feeling?” “Tired” you whispered and he nodded to Sam “Give me the vial”

Sam held out the holy water and Dean looked to you for permission. You held out your wrist, bracing for pain but this time there was no burning or pain. The holy water was just wet. 

“It worked” you breathed before laying heavily on Dean “Will you help me shower then take a nap with me?” He laughed lightly “I'll do anything you want me to”

You were laying in bed, curled up against Dean's chest. It'd taken you a day or two to convince him you were healed up from the cure but when you finally did it was like no time had passed. You'd stayed wrapped up in each other for hours, relearning every inch of every curve of each other's body. 

“How the hell did I get this lucky?” Dean asked and you smiled sleepily up at him “Someone somewhere must like you Winchester”

He caught your lips in a kiss before pulling away. “Come back” you whined but he laughed as he reached into the table next to his bed. When he turned back you saw he had something in his hand. He uncurled his fingers so you could see the silver ring sitting in the palm of his hand “Can this go back where it belongs?” 

“I can't believe you still have that” you whispered in shock before holding up your left hand “Please” he slipped it onto you then kissed your finger “I love you” “I love you”

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you over on top of him. You straddled his hips and smiled at him “You don't know how much I've missed you” you leaned down to kiss him but before your lips could touch Sam knocked on the door and hollered “Can you two come to the library?” 

You looked back at the door then down at Dean “He still has shit timing doesn't he?” He laughed then flipped the two of you over so he was on top of you “Don't worry. We'll see what he wants then come back to bed”

You walked into the library with Dean's arm around your waist. Sam sat at the table with a large wooden crate right in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow “What ya got Sammy?” He motioned “It's yours” Dean walked closer to it with you and you saw an envelope with your name. You picked it up and it simply read “So it turns out you weren't the only one to get another shot. Figured she belongs with you” 

You looked at Dean who'd read the note with you. He shrugged then walked to the crate. He cautiously pried the top off then looked in and a laugh fell out of him “C'mere baby” you walked over and looked in. A German Shepard puppy sat inside and the moment you popped your head in she sat up and barked, you cut your eyes at Dean who shrugged before looking at the puppy “Juliette?”

She barked again and you couldn't help but laugh as he leaned over and picked her up then held her out to you “Looks like she found her way back to you” You took her in your arms then he slipped his arms around you both, scratching Juliette’s head.

“I found my way back to you so stranger has happened” Dean placed a kiss on your cheek “We're together that's what matters, even if we now have a puppy” Juliette barked again and he laughed “Yeah yeah yeah. I hear ya” 

@starkleila @lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dont blame me mini series

[silvverhand]

.

#raise your hand if a fictional character has ever emotionally devastated you because of personal issues!!!!! #it happened with Ben Solo and now it hAPPENS AGAIN WITH DEAN!!!!!! #I get so fucked up when Sam just twists the knife on that poor dude #like yeah Dean has made some poor fuckin decisions and Sam has the right to be mad about things but Jesus #‘if the roles were reversed I wouldn’t save you’ #‘you’re selfish for wanting to keep me alive and it’s sad because I’m the only person in your life’ #‘but also I’m gonna shame you for having friends that aren’t me’ #like buddy please acknowledge that you and he had very different experiences in being loved and supported as you grew up!!!!!!!! fuck!!!! #anyway #characters being told by the one (1) person they truly care about and feel they can trust #that they don’t return certain feelings and don’t care as much as they do??? #kills me #cause I have always been on the receiving end of that #literally always #and it sticks the knife in really deep and just twists it when it happens to a character I relate to really hard #it really hurts more than it should lmao none of it is real but Christ #the characters that try so fucking hard and sacrifice everything for others always get me right in the heart #especially when it’s never really appreciated #it’s also like #lmao #Sam bro if you don’t want a big brother who devotes his entire life to trying to protect you and take care of you then I’ll fuckin take him #I would love for somebody to care enough about me that they will do anything to keep me around #it’s better than feeling unloved and unwanted by 99% of the people in your life #I’m emo about it all #personal #god it’s sNOWING AND THAT DOESNT EVEN MAKE ME HAPPY LIKE IT NORMALLY DOES #WHAT THE FUCK

[beeblackburn]

The Anti-TBR Tag

I was tagged by @books-and-doodles! Thank you! And poor you, for I am a long-winded bastard.

1. A popular book EVERYONE loves that you have no interest in reading?

On general principle, I feel like the really popular stuff (Twilight, Throne of Glass, Divergent, The Mortal Instruments) ends up being stuff I’m inherently not going to be attracted to and some of them have their own hatedoms going on, so going after them in detail would be punching down (though I don’t particular like any of the above). So I’m going to try to go off the beaten path with these seven:

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab = nothing against her personally, though I heard her The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue was baaaaad, but apparently, she’s similar to Sanderson in the magic system being better than the characterization and I heard her writing’s got a white faux-female empowerment sort of thing going that I’m growing increasingly... discontent of by itself. I might try it out later, but I also got hundreds of books to drill through first and I’m in no rush.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo = I’ve been increasingly getting the sense that Six of Crows was a flash in the pan, Bardugo’s style more defined by fun than genuine substance. And given a rather scathing review that points out unearned shifts in characterization, lackluster supporting cast, and two really uncomfortable exploitative sexual assault fantasy scenes (one of which was underaged!), I’m gonna say no.

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik = I generally like Novik! She’s a very solid writer to me and I’ve bought most of her books, so this is purely me not taking to the Wizarding School genre. Sorry, Novik, "a twisted, super dark, super modern, female-led Harry Potter" isn’t the selling point it once was, and even then, I probably wouldn’t have taken to it. Especially when I’ve already got The Gray House by Mariam Petrosyan to read.

The Alloy of Law by Brandon Sanderson = I’ve got mixed feelings on Mistborn looking back: it’s hardly the worst of his oeuvre (Elantris is that and was admittedly his first book) and The Final Empire took a few narrative risks that I admire, I also found the resulting books a tad juvenile and I don’t take to steampunk, genre-wise. I’m not even that much of a Sanderson fan, so I’d rather just read the summary for all I care.

Storm Front by Jim Butcher = given what I’ve been told about The Dresden Files’ lessening of noir roots past the first few books, how it later became more flashy-and-bang magical, and how it’s pretty sexist early on (and from what I’ve been told, doubled down on it later on and having worse treatments of its female characters), I’m in no particular rush to read them. The urban fantasy genre on them only turns me off more.

The Doors of Stone by Patrick Rothfuss = hahaha, I’m sorry, I did read The Name of the Wind, and read select parts of The Wise Man’s Fear, but everyone, instead of waiting and devoting your time for this book to come, I would suggest reading Fitz, Who Is Actually Good and Can Wring More than Disgust and an Eye-Roll out of You in Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings, given she is far better at characterization than Rothfuss.

Anything by Paul Krueger, Sam Sykes, and Myke Cole = fuck all three of these men and the idea that I’ll pay for their stuff. While I can’t demand any of you not buy from them and I’ll hardly claim to be a saint in terms of ethics, purchase-wise, I would beseech you all please don’t buy from these three authors who have a history of inappropriateness.

2. A classic book (or author) you don’t have an interest in reading?

Charles Dickens = look, I know his word count is padded because of serial installments back then, but I’m sorry, I wasn’t that impressed by the child-sanitized versions of Great Expectations and Oliver Twist. They were easily some of the most boring of out of the child-sanitized classics I read. It was the pictures that kept me going and barely at that. No thanks.

Emily Brontë =  look, if I wanted shitty people being shitty to each other, I’d much rather read Joe Abercrombie because at least I’ll get some intentional dark comedy out of dumb shitheads being terrible to each other (Best Served Cold comes to mind). And I know we’re not meant to like these self-destructive people, but I’d rather not hate everyone that much.

Alexander Dumas = Three Musketeers really didn’t age well, just from the TV Tropes page and I’m not really looking forward to an adventure that goes out of its way to valorize its protagonists being adventurous assholes who dueled, drank, and womanized harder than anyone else and we should commend that because they were men. Ugh.

3. An author you have read a couple of books from & have decided their books are not for you?

Leigh Bardugo = like I said, I feel like Six of Crows (and Crooked Kingdom, to a lesser extent) was a flash in the pan and she’s been increasingly running on fumes ever since then. Good and fun with a decent eye for characterization, but hardly revolutionary, considering how I think Crooked Kingdom isn’t quite as good as Six of Crows, and the less said about Shadow and Bone, the better.

Neil Gaiman = I’ve read some of his stuff (and I didn’t quite see the hype over his writing, but liked it decently enough) but having heard that, in his Sandman run, he wrote in a transwoman solely to get killed for an emotional ending and how he defended that choice for awhile left a battery acid taste for me to read more. He’s a formative part of people’s childhoods, so I don’t blame anyone for being fans, he’s just not for me.

Steven Erikson = really nothing against the dude, I’m sure he's probably a decent guy, but I didn’t take to Gardens of the Moon at all and skimming Deadhouse Gates and Memories of Ice (which were admittedly better) made me realize its prose was something I would need a hard and sharp shovel to crack through, and the darting around of many, many POVs made me feel not invested in anyone.

4. A genre you have no interest in OR a genre you tried to get into & couldn’t?

I’ll answer both because I have the time:

I’m not interested in romance, mostly because it’s an entire genre built around the build-up. It’s usually the story about the beginning of a relationship, not the relationship itself. I’d genuinely like to read about the story of a romance that doesn’t stop shortly after the hook-up or before the honeymoon period ends. The City Watch parts of Discworld by Terry Pratchett, The Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan and The Sharing Knife by Lois McMaster Bujold all have romantic elements that are relatively undrenched in melodrama or frills, but none of them are pure romances, which is a huge problem. I can take romantic subplots in fantasy, but I can’t take the genre as-is.

Urban fantasy is a genre I’m not against having my mind changed on liking, but right now, I generally find it insipid, a shortcut to good world-building, short on great characterization, and an excuse to lampshade and pretense to being above fantastical clichés in a tongue-in-cheek attitude while still committing to them. I do genuinely like Rivers of London by Ben Aaronvitch, but that’s really the concession I can give the entirety of the genre. I took a crack at Rick Riordan and Cassandra Clare’s stuff, but it didn’t feel like my sort of thing. Again, would like to be convinced, but I’d much rather read a domestic or slice-of-life fantasy set in a more overtly fantasy world than the urban one. 

Also, sci-fi, but I’m trying again with the Wormwood trilogy by Tade Thompson, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon, and either the Imperial Radch trilogy by Ann Leckie, or the Teixcalaan trilogy by Arkady Martine. I snoozed through Azimov’s Foundation and generally bored myself of hard sci-fi books, so I’m hoping contemporary sci-fi changes my mind on the entire genre.

5. A book you have bought but will never read?

A book I personally bought? Honestly, Traitor’s Blade by Sebastien de Castell. No particular reason, I just bought it at a closing-down sale at a branch of my bookstore on the cheap because the cover looked nice and didn’t really take to its blurb. I heard good things though, so if anyone else wants to read it...

I tag @vera-dauriac, @xserpx, @autoapocrypha, @kateofthecanals, @turtle-paced, @insecticidalfeminism, @secretlyatargaryen, @helix-eagle-hourglass-nebula, @xillionart, @jovolovo and whoever else that is following me and wishes to do this tag (I’d like to read your posts, so please tag me! :D)

#tags #book tag #anti tbr tag

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.13

Olympus, The Tower and Other Off-Limits Places to Find Gods at

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 4280

Summary: Getting an appointment with Captain America isn’t exactly easy – especially when one looks like his deceased soulmate and his friends are very protective of his fragile heart. 

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns, amnesia, swearing, ‘science’

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Hadn’t you had your nerves wrecked, you would have laughed your ass off when entering the Avengers Tower, the supposed residence of superheroes (besides other things, apparently).

The face of the receptionist upon your entrance was simply priceless.

You wished someone took a picture. Then again, her gaping lasted long enough for your trio to cross the better part of the lobby to her desk, her eyes nearly bulging still as you stopped in front of her, so you had enough time to feast your eyes – only to find yourself unable to indulge it fully. Clearly, you weren’t a diva type of person.

The woman behind the counter couldn’t form words, apparently. Neither were you, the lump in your throat simply too big. So it was left to the brothers.

“Yeah, we know what you want to say. She gets that a lot,” Dean announced brilliantly, smirking. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s behaviour and hurried to talk to the poor woman instead of him.

“Is there any chance we could talk to Captain Rogers?”

The receptionist gulped, clearly uncertain how to proceed. She frantically searched her desk as if she had some note to tell her what to do. In the end, she looked up back at you, blinking.

“I-I’ll see what I can do,” she stuttered as her shaking hands found a button to press and adjust the microphone on her headset. “There’s… there is a woman to see Captain Rogers.”

Low and very much annoyed female voice replied through the loose headphones.

“There are too many women to see Rogers these days. Why are you calling instead of following the protocol?”

The receptionist’s eyes never left your face, but she didn’t hold your gaze, as if shy or scared. You didn’t want to think about what it meant and prayed it was only shock showing. Seeing a supposedly dead person probably did that to people.

Also, really? Those nags whose posts (read: dirty suggestions) you had stumbled across when surfing the net actually came here?

“You might want to come see for yourself, madam.”

A short pause followed, causing your heart to nearly jump out of your chest as it hammered in anticipation.

“Fine. Send her to the conference room on the first floor, 1.03. I’ll be there in five.”

Dean sent the woman behind the counter a blinding smile and she reluctantly showed you towards the elevator. Sam had to nudge you slightly to follow; your feet felt like they had taken roots in the floor. It wasn’t just the receptionist staring now and you just wanted to turn invisible and run.

This had been a terrible idea. What happened to the Tinder one? It suddenly sounded more appealing.

The swift ride in the elevator that flipped over your stomach already floating as if was stuffed with cotton didn’t help at all.

Neither did the redhead who barged into the way too luxurious conference room (the door fucking opened itself), shooting you all three a quick glance that appeared like an assessment of weaponry (Dean did have a pocket knife, you thought, just like Sam, which probably wouldn’t help when fighting a superhero, but whatever) and froze when seeing you.

If she didn’t look so indescribably tough and badass, you would think her emerald eyes turned glassy; before they grew cold and calculating, her already tensed shoulders straightening even more.

“Who the hell are you?!” she barked out.

It was almost funny, seeing as there were two large men with you, that you had her undivided attention as if you were the threat to her.

“I… I’m not sure,” you stuttered, barely audible, your heart leaping into your throat.

Whatever she had expected you to say or do, this clearly wasn’t it. She looked gobsmacked and utterly taken aback by your response. Her stiff and delicately beautiful features twisted in a grimace of disbelief.

“What do you mean you’re not— what the hell is this?”

“You’re Black Widow,” Dean stated when the questioning look of the intimidating woman shifted to them. He looked… star-struck? You vaguely recalled reading that there was a woman on the… Avengers team. This was probably her. “Natasha Romanoff. Well, that would explain it.”

A metaphorical light-bulb flickered above your head.

Natasha. That couldn’t be coincidence, could it?

“The… the name I chose. You think it was because of her? Are we friends?”

“Are we—“ she parroted your apparently stupid question incredulously, measuring your trio from head to toe. “The name you chose? What does it even mean?”

“She’s amnesiac,” Sam enlightened her matter-of-factly, which caused her to snap her gaze back to you, eyes narrowed.

But there was a spark of something in her irises, more of an interest than suspicion now.

“Jarvis, is she wearing any tech that would disguise her voice or her face?”

Before you could question whom she was talking to, a voice with an accent answered her, making you jump.

“No, Agent Romanoff. There is no sign of a plastic surgery either.”

Sam and Dean seemed almost unfazed by an invisible person speaking up; thinking about it, they were probably used to it. But you weren’t, nearly going into a cardiac arrest.  

“Gotta love natural beauty,” Dean hummed teasingly, earning a glare from Sam that screamed hypocrite.

You suspected that the site named BustyAsianBeauties.com that popped out in the tablet’s history was Dean’s doing then and it eased the tension in your stomach for a bit. With those two, everything would be alright. Manageable, at least. The banter, it was the highlight of your days.

“And my recognition system involving body and gait analysis is finding 98% match,” the strange male voice continued and you couldn’t help but grimace.

Dude. That’s… creepy.

“Well, that’s just rude and invasive,” Dean voiced your thoughts and crossed his arms on his chest with a scolding look.

Natasha Romanoff was clearly having none of his shit as she mirrored his position. You noticed that while Dean’s arms were clutched tightly, hers weren’t. You had a funny hunch she wanted to be ready to punch someone. Namely you, Sam or Dean.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. But then her eyes shifted towards the ceiling, her teeth grinding.

“Jarvis, why didn’t you inform anyone about a woman who matches you-know-who entering this building in the first place?” she hissed and you couldn’t say you minded her irritation being aimed at someone (?) else.

“…I simply thought there was a glitch in my system. I focused on finding the glitch causing my malfunction,” the ghost-like voice replied politely, though sounding guilty.

Everything was pointing the direction of Agent Romanoff finding the system – artificial intelligence, you finally realized, which what the hell was the world anymore – very much guilty. Or someone named Stark, because you would swear she had muttered ‘Fuck Stark’s inventions’ under her breath.

“You three. Start talking. Right now.”

“You might want to explain the frauds too,” the voice chimed in again and the brothers tensed.

“What frauds?” the woman demanded in a snarl, giving you an impression of wanting to bare her teeth like and animal.

“We’ll get to that,” Sam assured her, raising his hands in attempted ‘we-mean-no-harm’ gesture. “It’s just… how we get money, because our job doesn’t exactly pay great.”

“…and the murder.”

The movement was so fast you had no chance of seeing it. All of sudden, there was a gun aimed at Dean’s face, then moving to Sam’s and flickering to you as well, as Romanoff stood two steps farer than before.

“What murder?!”

Good question, not the point at the moment. There was a murder about to happen and sure as hell didn’t like it!

This time, Dean raised his hands in surrender. You mimicked him instantly.

“Alright. Who the hell is speaking and I said it and I’ll say it again; it was a shapeshifter-”

“What the hell is a shapeshifter?” the woman barked, clicking the safety lock.

Your head started swimming, the world muffled as blood pounded in your temples. Someone had you on gunpoint.

Shit, shit, shit, how is this my life? Whose life is this?

“Cas, we could really use your help-“ Dean called out to the ceiling and nothing happened.

You heard the shot before you saw the movement on your left.  It rang in your ears, echoing in your skull and making you crouch on instinct, your arms protectively wrapping around your head.

Two more shots were fired, but no pain came.

Fear squeezed your heart, your knees getting wobbly. Did that mean Sam and Dean got shot?

A gasp from the shooter picked up your curiosity and had you peek through your improvised protection.

“Oh. I think you’ll get along with her, Dean. Same manners. Summon, shoot first, ask questions later,” a familiar voice of an angel sounded from your left and you breathed in shakily, assessing the situation.

No one was hurt. Castiel seemed offended though, so you assumed he was the one being shot at. And he was unharmed. Jesus. They had forgotten to mention that he didn’t really mind bullets, but that was not the point.

There were no other shots and you slowly straightened back as Dean scolded the angel, almost annoyed.

“Cut the sass, Cas. Could you… explain miss- Agent Romanoff that there are monsters and you’re who you are?”

By the look Castiel gave him, he wasn’t happy. You weren’t surprised – his beige trenchcoat now had three bullet holes in it, Romanoff’s gun in his hand. Speaking of which…the agent was kinda frozen? Like, literally? It was freaking creepy, but it was probably the cause of you not bleeding to death momentarily, so you were grateful.

“Again?” Castiel whined and you pushed down the urge to label them ‘married couple after 20 years’. “We work really hard to keep supernatural world a secret! … but in this case, I guess I could make an exception.”

He sighed and flicked his hand, which caused the woman to start moving again, her face raining holy fire as she found herself… unarmed and clearly out of loop.

Castiel only smiled at her, welcoming, before she could jump him and strangle him to death – she seemed to be about to do so.

“Miss Romanoff, I’m an angel of the Lord. Pleasure to meet you.”

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Agent Natasha Romanoff was sitting with her elbows leaning onto her thighs, fingers interlaced between her knees. Her face wasn’t giving away much – only that she was… overwhelmed, if you could take a guess.

She believed you, you recognized as much. After everything Castiel had told her and showed her, which included an interior thunder and lightning, illuminating his figure only to project a shadow of freaking wings on the wall behind his back, and a hovering healing hand over her left knee, clearly working its magic, you weren’t too surprised about that.

Despite all of that though, her eyes were mostly on you, making you shift uncomfortably every now and then.

“I know it’s hard to believe,“ Sam spoke up when the silence stretched; with the angel of the Lord having nothing more to say and simply flying away, disappearing with a flutter of momentarily invisible wings, no one else had seemed inclined to talk.

The agent sighed and raised her head in the giant’s direction, eyebrow crooked up.

“I know a guy who was frozen for seventy years, I met two demigods from Asgard, there’s a man turning way greener and bigger and I fought an alien army. I’m not sure what ‘hard to believe’ means anymore, but seeing an… an angel or whatever he was and him getting me rid of pain that’s been bugging me for months helped too. But… it’s still a lot to chew,” she explained matter-of-factly and you couldn’t say you didn’t agree.

Also, you weren’t quite following her speech, assuming she was talking about her colleagues. You had registered the existence of Avengers, group of people and more-than-people, when searching the net, but your main focus had been aimed at Captain America; for obvious reasons.

“Well, why don’t we let Cap decide what he wants to believe?” Dean offered, tone light, but heavier than usual. “Captain Rogers, I mean.”

The woman eyed you again, clearly struggling with something she didn’t want to share. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

Romanoff snapped to Dean at the simple question and shot him an ugly look.

“He lost his soulmate few weeks ago in the most horrifying way and there’s a woman who looks just like her, not remembering a thing about them or herself for that matter, and I don’t even have a way of being hundred percent sure she is who I think she is. What do you think?” she finished, rising to her feet in a challenge.

Sam pouted shortly, as if wanting to say that she made a good point. “Touché. But I’m pretty sure she’s her.”

The Whatever-spider-she-was-called crossed her arms on her chest, her mind clearly preoccupied, squinting at you for a moment. You winced under the strict glare, lowering your gaze. She sighed at that and when you looked up again with reluctance, you noticed her features softened.

“Would you be willing to take a DNA test?”

“I… I guess,” you replied, a lump in your throat. You clenched your fist so it would stop tremble.

You weren’t scared of their probing. A DNA sounded rather innocent. No, you were worried about the results. The results that would lead to certain encounter you were once again not feeling ready for.

“Jarvis, get Tony’s ass to Bruce’s lab and open the private elevator for us. We’re coming up.”

After another nauseating elevator ride in a cabin that had no buttons to press, a retinal scan of the woman and a sacred promise you wouldn’t touch anything without permission, you were led to a room that was less strictly clinical than you expected – you only saw glass walls separating the white part of another lab in the corner of the room.

The welcome was about as warm as with Lady Spy though.

“What the hell?!” two men cried out in unison, looking up from some sort of a robotic… thing, matching shocked and exasperated expressions on their faces.

One of them was in a lab coat, wearing seeing glasses, suntanned skin and dark curls wild around his head, while the other seemed more caring about his looks with short hair and a goatee; he was wearing a plain dark long-sleeved t-shirt and grey sweats.

“Yeah, I know,” the woman who had brought you in said, not quite elaborating. It didn’t go unnoticed by the goatee man.

“Who the fuck is that?!”

“Cap’s soulmate. Probably,” Dean responded dryly, smiling tightly.

The guy was having none of it as he probably should. Still, you winced when he threw up his arm towards you, brown fire in his eyes – partly directed at you, partly at the redhead woman. He paced towards your group rapidly.

“What? And who the hell are you? Romanoff? Who are these people? Where did you get them? Is that another stunt of yours? Is that what that Wilson therapist told you to do?”

Romanoff’s eyes narrowed, her forehead crooking. “How do you even know about- no, don’t tell me. But don’t look at me, they came on their own.”

“To this lab?” the man sassed her. She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, okay, that’s on me.”

“You trust them enough to bring them here?” the lab-coat man spoke up for the first time and shifted his weight from one leg to another, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You would swear you saw a hint of green on the side of his neck, but it must have been a trick of light.

“Long story. Wanna run some tests?” she offered, sounding rather commanding.

The goatee man narrowed his eyes, but quickly caught up, a flash of recognition on his face. “Good plan. Want Jarvis to update the security protocols?”

“Good plan. Though I don’t think it will do any good.”

���What’s that supposed to mean?” he hissed, while the curled-hair man hesitantly beckoned you to follow him to the white part of the laboratory. You gulped at the sight, but hoped it didn’t show on your face much.

“Thanks,” you quipped up shyly, your fingers fiddling with the loose end of your plaid shirt. “Good afternoon. Sorry for barging in and interrupting your work.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to say that – perhaps you were wishing to smoothen the messy and rather hostile situation. To be fair, you were sorry; whatever they had been doing when you stumbled in looked important.

“Just… ask Jarvis later,” you heard behind your back and then the glass doors fallen shut behind you.

The man in the glasses observed you with brilliant eyes, curiosity, a hint of anger, confusion and a spark of hope written all over his face.

“We’ll see if it’s a problem. Who are you? Why are you here?”

You slowly climbed to the examining table, waiting for instructions, not sure what exactly he was about to perform. His questions were good ones, but there was a tiny catch.

“I really wish I knew answers to at least one of these questions, sir,” you whispered honestly, the pool of chocolate in his irises softening a fraction at your admission.

“You don’t know who you are?”

The velvet of his voice, soft question and gentle movements of his hands as he prepared your arm to take your blood summoned tears to well up in your eyes and you only shook your head, not wanting for your voice to break.

“But you’re here willingly, right? These men out there – they can’t hear you, don’t worry – they didn’t force you to come here, did they?” he continued kindly, a worried crinkle on his forehead now.

You were quick to understand that he worried whether two random fellas didn’t take an advantage of your visible similarity to Captain’s soulmate.

The shook of your head was more rapid this time, especially as you noticed the green patch of skin on his neck again. You understood finally that this was whom Natasha Romanoff was talking about – ‘greener and bigger’, she had said. You didn’t want to upset him, more so with a syringe in his hand.

“No. They have been helping me from the moment I woke up with no memory. They are very kind to me. We didn’t know to come here until we walked into a café and people were staring at me.”

As you explained it quietly, you barely noticed the pinch and the vial filling with your blood. He disinfected the puncture then, wordlessly instructing you to keep the pressure on it.

“Well. We’ll see if this can help us at all,” he offered as he placed the vial to a machine you had never seen before. “But if you are, in some impossible way, the person you are scarily similar to, we’re about to have a very long chat.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

The chat wasn’t long at all in fact. The machine spitted out a result within five minutes in which you had returned to the cosier laboratory to witness the trio of Sam, Dean and Romanoff explaining to the goatee man how supernatural world worked.

He appeared sceptical, but Doctor Banner – as you learned – supported the spy when she pointed out her chronic pain in her knee that she now claimed to vanish.

Mr. Stark, aka the goatee man, seemed very relieved at the ping that sounded from his computer, an excuse to pause the weird conversation. Seeing the window instantly pop out in the air in front of his face, little lights drew some kind of results you couldn’t read.

You could read the actual text though. There was your supposed name, a series of lighter and darker bands, and next to it, a tested subject (actual you) with matching set of bands.

The match: 100%.

Stark’s head snapped to you along with Romanoff’s and Banner’s. They all stared at you speechless, disbelief at something beyond their comprehension clearly on display on their faces.

You shuffled uncomfortably, your gaze falling to the floor. You could still sense Dean’s and Sam’s satisfaction as they stood by your side. You, on the other hand, felt like you couldn’t quite breathe in, your chest too heavy and constricted.

“Well,” Stark broke the ominous silence, voice with a barely audible tremble in it. “Either you’re good, like really fucking good, or… you’re actually her, which… what the hell. People don’t just come back from death.”

Yeah, no shit. Tell me about it. And they told me that people actually do.

Too sheepish and not knowing what was a proper thing to say to that (was there even such thing?), you remained in your position and quiet.

Dean was kind enough to voice your thoughts though.

“Well, all of us, including the angel Ms. Scarily Pretty and Pretty Scary here met, did. That’s our world,” he stated, moving closer to your side as if he wanted to comfort you as he sensed your discomfort. Which probably wasn’t that hard. “I’m not saying it happens every day, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen here and there.”

“In the end, I don’t think it matters,” Romanoff sighed and you finally found courage to look up as her words shocked you.

What did that mean?

“Why?” Stark questioned.

“Because she’s already here. They should talk.”

“Why? That’s gotta hurt like hell if nothing comes out of it, Natasha. You saw how he’s coping. Or, you know, not coping,” Banner reasoned this time and you bit your lip, glancing away at the thought of hurting your supposed soulmate.

“What he said. But I wouldn’t say ‘hell’,” Stark supported him and then added for a good measure: “I’d say ‘fuck’.”

The woman huffed exasperatedly.

“Yeah, guys, I’ve been there for the past weeks. You said it yourself, Tony, I did look for a therapist. But cut Steve some slack, he’s trying. More importantly, this can’t be a coincidence. I don’t believe in those.”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of his name and you weren’t sure you wanted to probe at why. Having the picture of him in your head, his voice caressing your ears, then pleading desperately as he had tried to save you – and there was no questioning it anymore, was there, even the DNA had confirmed you were she and she was you – made one hell of a mess of you.

As if you hadn’t been one already.

“Explain.”

“When I told her… that I might have sent Steve her way the first time, you know what she told me?” Romanoff reacted to Stark’s blunt request and all eyes shifted to you once more and you panicked.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about, I clearly didn’t!”

“Enlighten us then?” Banner sighed, tilting his head to side curiously, glancing back at the other woman in the room.

“That it was okay. That either way, it was meant to happen exactly like it happened, because why else the words would have already been on their skin? Exactly those words?”

You blinked in surprise, taken aback at how much the words resonated with you. You could hear yourself say that and it probably shouldn’t shock you since you had your identity confirmed now, but… still.

When the spy spoke the words out loud, they made perfect sense.

“Wanna go all ‘you can’t escape the fate’ on me?”

Or maybe they didn’t, you thought grimly as Stark’s voice turned sceptical.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong, was she?” the redhead opposed him dryly, raising a challenging eyebrow.

The doctor grimaced, probably wanting to say something, but not having a counterargument.  

“That’s fair. But that was different. There are no words-“

“There are. Steve… he’s got a new set of words.”

“Aha!” Sam and Dean called out in unison, pointing their index fingers to accent Romanoff’s words, once again in creepy sync.

You, on the other hand, were less confident.

“Really?” you whispered, relief washing over you like a tide wave. You hadn’t been aware of how much the possibility of everyone being wrong weighted you down until now. What were the chances Steve Rogers wasn’t your soulmate – again and still – after this revelation?

The spy only nodded, sending an approximation of a smile in your direction.

“Wait, really? Son of a bitch.” - “What does it say?” Banner asked at the same time as Stark and you bit your lip.

Should you even know that? Would they tell you? If they would, you could say them to the captain and call it a day – but that wasn’t how it worked, right?

Should you like… cover your ears?

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Romanoff sighed, solving your moral dilemma for you. You were glad, not caring whether she was making it up, because she didn’t want to tell you or whether it was the truth. “To be fair, maybe he would have done it, but I tranquillized him about thirty seconds after he told me about them, so I understand he didn’t feel like sharing after that.”

Yeah, you could see that happening. She seemed to be one for a quick and radical solutions, which tranquillizing someone – like drugging him to fall asleep, right? – definitely was.

“Fair enough,” Stark hummed and then turned to you with curiosity in his eyes. His whole stance seemed to change though upon the mention of Steve Rogers having new words. He believed you now and it caused him – just like everyone else you had met in this strange Tower – to treat you… kinder. “Do you have two sets of words?”

“I… I do.”

With a deep inhale and painfully slow exhale, you started to unbutton your shirt, revealing both of your sets of words. The shock and something indescribable in the air was almost palpable as there were no doubts left in anyone’s head.

The silence was weighting a ton and you were immensely grateful to Banner for breaking it – until you heard his words that scared you as much as they excited you.

“Yeah, they should probably talk.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 14

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

The we-shall-protect-Steve-at-any-cost squad in action. Then again, it’s hard to argue with angels and scientific evidence when they team up.

Sorry it took long, glad if you waited :-* Thanks for reading!

#marvel #supernatural #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #mcu #spn #marvel x supernatural #supernatural x marvel #captain america #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #sam winchester #dean winchester #team free will #crossover #soulmate au #avengers #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #mcu x spn #errare humanum est #anika ann

[shirtlesssammy]

9x02: Devil May Care

Then:

Ezekiel is totes on the up and up helping out the Brothers Winchester.

Now:

Dean fills Sam in on where Cas is (far away and human and without wings or money or ANYTHING and they’re not going to pick him up. GOD, do I love Supernatural post-season 11 SO MUCH.)

I mean, I guess the brothers have to worry about all the fallen angels out there (heaven forbid you include a FORMER ANGEL in on the mix!) They also have Crowley captured and as Dean so eloquently puts it, “He’s the junk in my truck.” (Lol, not until season 10, buddy!)

In an old, abandoned house, a demon performs a spell over a bathtub and out pops Abaddon!

Dean comes back to the bunker to a seriously freaked out Kevin. He’s been alone for too long. The bunker was acting weird when the brothers were gone. Dean fills him in on what’s happening. Dean is just a jerk here, wtf? I know he’s under some stress but let’s be nicer to the poor kid prophet, at least.

The brothers haul Crowley to the dungeon. They want demon names. He’s not going to cooperate. Torture isn’t going to work.

Kevin demands to know why Crowley is there. He killed his mom. Dean promises that if Crowley gives them what they want, they’ll let Kevin knife him in the end.

Abaddon starts to build her faction of demons. She finds Crowley’s level of leadership to be lacking. “The king is dead. Long live the queen.” And with that Abaddon is going to lead Hell.

Dean tells another hunter about the fallen angels and tells him to pass it on.

Meanwhile, Abaddon is fulfilling one of her first goals, getting better vessels for demons. Her first recruits possess some army dudes on a bus.

On the side of the road, a woman looks over the engine of her broken car. A man in a van pulls up and offers her a ride into town. She gladly accepts (BECAUSE THAT’S A SMART MOVE). Bonus on the gross predator man? He’s also a vampire. But the young woman is a hunter and dispatches him with ease. 

She’s captured by the army demons though. Wherps.

Dean and Sam arrive at the bus. They get a little pushback about investigating —it’s a military case, not a federal one. They have their supervisor, Kevin Solo, give the go ahead. Kevin does his own little investigation and the boys get their clearance.

Once inside the bus, they find the wounds on the dead bodies to be old. Demons. They also find surveillance video of Abaddon.

Abaddon has the other hunter in custody, and she wants answers about Sam and Dean. She gets Dean’s number and Kevin answers. She tells him that she has hunters in her clutches. She’s going to kill them if they don’t come for them.

Sam and Dean task Kevin on learning everything about Knights of Hell and they head to rescue the other hunters.

Crowley continues to sit in the dungeon, reflecting on his brush with being cured and human again. Kevin walks into the storage room by the dungeon. Crowley starts taunting him and Kevin opens the doors.

Sam and Dean find a ghost town. Quick! Somebody find Dean a long coat and a cowboy hat! 

They find the hunters trussed up in one of the abandoned shops. Tracy seems nice and would make a great Wayward Sister JUST SAYIN’. 

Crowley does what he does best and starts to twist Kevin around his finger. He implies heavily that Kevin’s mother isn’t actually dead. 

The Winchesters and their hunter buddies set up for Abaddon’s assault as the army-demons approach. The demons get tricked by the old phone-playing-a-recording trick, buying the hunters a little time to sneak out the back. We learn that Tracy is NOT looking to be BFFs with the Winchesters. Her parents were killed by demons throwing a party commemorating Sam’s release of Lucifer. Uh. Whoops? 

Crowley lays out his bargain: if Kevin frees him, he gets his mother back (she’s imprisoned, not dead). Kevin can’t help but listen to it all, including Crowley’s assertion that the Winchesters don’t care about Kevin beyond his usefulness. And honestly at this part of season 9 I gotta say that Crowley has a point.

The hunting parties split up. Dean defends his brother to Tracy. “You gotta know who the real monsters are in this world, kid.” Sam and Irv approach the demons. Irv confesses that he revealed the identities of a bunch of hunters to Abaddon one sad, drunk night. He’s looking to go out in a blaze of glory. His confession earns a shot through the heart from a demon sniper. 

Sam gets knocked down by demons and on the other side of the stakeout, Dean gets chucked to the ground by Abaddon. 

Tracy fires at the knight of Hell but Abaddon’s suited up with a bullet-proof vest to defend against devil’s trap bullets. Dean sends Tracy to his car for a resupply, then gets ready for a heart to heart with Abaddon, angel blade in hand. 

Sam continues to have a no good very bad day, up against the rest of the demons. (Don’t worry, he’s Sam Fucking Winchester, so we’re good.) Abaddon gets a good hold on Dean by the hair (BRB off to write some Abaddon/Dean fanfic!) and compliments him on being obedient AND “suicidally stupid.”

“Are we gonna fight or make out?” Dean asks, “‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here.”

Abaddon wants Crowley on a plate and she’ll kill Dean quick. OR she’ll peel off Dean’s tattoo and possess his ass. She taunts him with all the horrors she’ll inflict on others while possessing him - and making sure he’s aware of every last bit. 

Sam’s doing poorly. Apparently he forgot his middle name at home that morning (the trials are still affecting him, poor lamb). But not to fear! Ezekiel pushes his way forward and Sam’s eyes flash blue. It’s time to smite some demons. (LOL remember when angels were super powerful creatures that everyone feared and nobody could kill? Those were good times.)

Abaddon witnesses the angelic explosion, chucks Dean through a shop window, and disappears. 

Back at the diner, Ezekiel surveys his demon-killing work and defends his smiting to Dean. He was only protecting Sam. Dean looks like a spooked cat talking to him. 

Ezekiel insists that Sam is fine and won’t remember anything. Dean feels regrets about...everything. (It is his number one personality trait.) Maybe they should have closed Hell - all the demons running around the world are his fault because he wanted to save his brother instead. Ezekiel (Dean: “I’m gonna call you Zeke.”) insists that Dean did it out of love. Dean stops looking like a scared cat and starts blustering instead. “I'm not really with the whole, uh, love, and... love.” DEAN BEAN. (Praise to season 14!)

A little bit later, Dean packs up weapons in the diner while Sam wakes up. He tells Sam that he killed all the demons and Sam’s shocked. “You killed three demons? Alone?” LOL season nine! Tracy pulls up with Baby and DAMN GIRL you got to drive her. She checks on Sam’s welfare in a reasonably friendly manner. Dean, you won her over with the power of FRIENDSHIP! (Shut up, I have not seen too much My Little Pony.) 

The Winchesters arrive at the bunker with some booze and a bucket of chicken. They call for Kevin immediately and when he doesn’t answer they race down to the dungeon. They find a very pissed off and somewhat bloody Crowley. Crowley immediately offers up names of demons and gives them a deal - they scratch his back, he scratches theirs. But the first demon names are because playing with Kevin was so much fun for him. “Wind him up, watch him go.” Dean races upstairs to find Kevin walking out of the bunker. To convince Kevin to stay, Dean delivers such compelling arguments as:

Crowley lies

If Kevin’s mom is alive, then she might as well be dead

It’s dangerous outside the bunker

They need him

Oooof Dean. Not a winning argument, there. Kevin jumps on the last point. 

Dean insists that they need Kevin because he’s family and they’d die for him. He successfully talks Kevin into staying and meets up with Sam. Sam’s reflecting on Tracy’s dislike of him. Dean tells Sam that he’s done more good than bad. “Here’s to now,” Dean says. The bold future! 

“The fallen angels?” Sam asks. “Abaddon? Cas losing his halo, Crowley in our basement?”

“Crap. We're living in a freaking sitcom,” Dean says. UH I would watch the HELL out of that show. 

Sam decides that he’s feeling good and life is good. I’m so glad to see Sam in such a healthy place! Thank goodness both Winchesters are in a good mental state. LOL, kidding, Dean drinks his feelings as the episode fades to black. 

______________________________

Everything’s Fine and Nothing Quotes:

Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S A M into S & M

Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers

What's the matter, hellhound got your tongue?

I'm Kevin freaking Solo

I torture all my friends. It’s how I show love

______________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 9x02 #devil may care #dean winchester #sam winchester #kevin tran #abaddon #crowley #supernatural season 9

[carryoncastiel]

14x17 - “Game Night” thoughts

Expectations: Mary is gonna die, I’m 95% sure. The sneak peek made that pretty obvious. I only wonder if Jack will have something to do with it. And I do hope that if she dies Mary gets to tell the boys that it’s ok since she was happy with the extra time she got and just being able to meet them as adults (and meeting John again). Make it bittersweet. Ok, let’s go...

Ah right Nick is back. I wonder if his story will also (finally) conclue in this episode? Also I’m really interested to see what Anael is up to.

Wow that was a very loaded recap again. This episode is gonna be heavy...

It starts with Donatello making cookies. I have a bad feeling about this.

Yup, poor Donatello. But it doesn’t really look like Nick as I expected. More angel-y...hmm

Ah the good old plastic kid board games that suck nowadays. (I still wonder if Mouse Trap was a thing in Germany and I just never had it or if this is more an american thing. The only “Mouse Trap” board game I knew was the one with the mouse from the popular german kids cartoon “Die Sendung mit der Maus”.) Anyway...

 “Well it’s annoying” this is obviously a red flag for Jack being more uncaring than before but for any other teenage character this would be the most normal response. Family can just be really annoying even if they mean well.

Seems like Jack really has to “act” like himself here. He doesn’t feel like it but he knows he’s supposed to be smiley and understanding. Ugh this hurts :(

“So much for Game Night” you’ll get your Game Night one day Dean. One day.

The song playing here seems familiar. But it’s probably just because it’s the typical Jukebox song for me. Other people will know what song this is.

Ok this is probably not gonna happen but could Anael and Cas just become friends? Weird friends but friends. Cas needs more friends outside of the Winchesters.

“I’m gratefuly for every day I get to spend with you and Sam” ...oh Mary don’t make me cry just yet. 

I hear Donatello saying “Satan”...hmm

Yup so it’s some Lucifer incantation. But does that mean it is Nick with Donatello?

Well that was an obvious trap. And it IS Nick. *Sigh* Ok I knew he was gonna be in this episode again but still.

What is Nick’s plan here? I’m really anxious ‘cause I’m  scared for Mary D:

Cas, really? Are you threatening an angel with angel powers? That doesn’t seem like a very good threat.

Well what do you know it works.

Don’t bring Nick to the Bunker!!! No no this is gonna go wrong.

Same Sam. Same. Sadly I fear no one will get the chance to punch the shit out of Nick in a few scenes...

Sam this is not your fault. Tell him Mary!

Mary giving all the best speeches to her boys here. She’s so gonna die.

I honestly really like Anael and Cas interacting. 

“We’re all lonely. Because we’re all alone.” That’s a bleak way to look at it. But Anael got a point of course. The good old question of “Why doesn’t God do anything to end suffering on earth”

Punch him punch him punch him

Dude he is NOT your son! Lucifer wasn’t even posessing you when he impregnated Kelly so shut the fuck up! Ugh.

“He loved you so much. And you broke his heart” Oh was that before or after he cut Jack’s throat to steal his grace? Please. Just shut up.

Oh Jack is just way too easy to manipulate. Nick’s plan is probably going super right now.

Jack’s soul is gone and Cas can do nothing about it. The truth hurts.

Is that the Samulet? It doesn’t seem to work but we know Chuck’s gonna be back so

“Just because God’s not with us doesn’t mean we’re alone” “Why? Because we all have each other?” “Yes”. Aww of course Cas is way ahead of Anael with knowing that God not being there doesn’t really matter. He has his family and that is what matters.

 The syringe was filled tih grace? He didn’t say Archangel grace so where did Nick get grace from? My immediate thought was that Nick got Lucifer back already being posessed the whole time and is just messing with everyone but idk.

Hmm some other angel helping Nick???

Eww he had a little knife hidden in his skin. *shudders*

Goddamn don’t use that Terminator!Lucifer footage again. I can’t take it serious.

SERIOUSLY? Sam don’t have a change of heart in the middle of kicking Nick’s ass. Ugh. And now he got hit in the face with a rock.

That CGI looks sick. Well done VFX department. 

I do think that Lucifer is not gonna posess Nick though. Jack is more likely. Since he has his blood maybe he can just possess him without consent?

Oh man. They found a way to make Nick’s death not super saitfying but just super disturbing instead. Well done Glynn!

Also no Lucifer because now Jack is the big bad? I mean I have to remind myself this is episode 17 and not 20.

I’m sorry but is Sam dying? That would be indeed a twist. Also kinda hilarious.

He just left Mary back there. Not good.

“Where is Mom” “She is fine” Hahaha...ha,....

Hmm but who is gonna come and kill her now?

“Just tell me it’s ok” ...*Mary smiling sadly* “It’s not”

Don’t do it JAck. Don’t do it!

“If Sam and Dean saw what you did they would be as worried as I am” well now he’s going destroy the evidence. 

OOOOH WE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO SEE IT. You dicks haha

Ok this was very intense. I mean there were some “Are they really gonna fall this” moments but other than that very good. Very good.  Excited to see how this goes next episode.

#spn spoilers #14x17 #spn 14x17 #14.17 #spn thoughts #my stuff

[quarra]

Ficlet Challenge Prompt

Yo. Tagging these folks because IT CONTINUES: @kat-atomic @tinybearswithjetpacks , @brooklynbetty, @mariastill    plus @colorcoated01  because they seemed interested. Also, I credit @needmorefiction  with Steve’s opinions on pants.

So, I dug up a little more time, and here is Part Two of the Sloth Prompt. This has even more crack and more pining. Also, a great deal of swearing. Poor, poor Bucky. It’s a little long, so again, it’s under the line.

After all, how bad could it be?

Turns out, pretty fucking bad.

It had only been three days and already Bucky was contemplating a life of intrigue as an internationally wanted fugitive and assassin. Because anything was starting to look good compared to dealing with Steve’s fucking lazy ass.

“Buuuuuuuuuck, the TV remote is really far away!” Steve yelled from the living room.

Bucky paused in picking up yet another pile of wrappers from the hallway to bang his head against the wall. Not too hard, because if he broke through the drywall and had to clean up after that too he really might actually shoot himself.

“What’s your fucking point, Steve?” he yelled back.

“Help!”

Steven Grant Fucking Rogers, folks. Mr. I Don’t Need Help With Anything. Mr. I Can Storm The Base All By Myself. Mr. I Can Making It On My Fucking Own.

But he needed help getting the TV remote. Because it was too far away.

Fuck the bullet to himself, Bucky was going to fucking shoot Steve.

Just as he was pulling a knife and trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t really do any damage to Steve, he’d just scare him a little, Jarvis interrupted.

“Sgt. Barnes, Mr. Wilson is on his way up. He said he’s bringing dinner.”

“Thank god,” Bucky said quietly.

Whatever twisted gnarl of mistrust and frustration he once had with Sam, it had all melted away under the stress of the past few days. The man was a damn saint, and Bucky was ready to fucking kiss him in relief every time he showed up. At this point, Bucky didn’t even care if it was only for Steve’s well being, because the sad remnants of Bucky’s sanity and temper had long since frayed away under the sheer weight of Steve’s laziness.

It didn’t seem that bad at first. So Steve would lie around. Big deal. The guy needed a break. But it turns out, Steve was willing to get up just long enough to make the largest mess possible, and then he’d collapse back into the couch or his bed.

The more charitable, patient side of Bucky thought that this might be Steve fighting off the effects of the spell. He’d muster up enough motivation to get some food, or something to drink, or another blanket. Then the spell would push back with force, and crush his will once again. But it never lasted for more than an hour and then Steve would be up wandering around again, dragging ass all over their floor.

The part of Bucky that had to deal with Steve licking whip cream off of the arm of the couch just because he was too tired to get a plate and didn’t want to get his hands covered in whip cream, that part was ready to fucking murder something.

Not to mention that stumbling across that scene had done Bucky no favors. He had been frozen solid watching Steve lick slowly at the mound of white fluff for a solid five minutes before he realized what the fuck was happening.

Luckily, rage and irritation did wonders for repressing his libido.

“Hey there, Steve,” Sam called from the other room. “How’s it goooOH MY GOD, really Steve? Really?”

Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to grind his teeth. Sam must have just walked in and seen the other thing that was driving Bucky to distraction. He steeled himself, grabbed the bag of trash he’d been collecting, and made his way into the living room.

Sam was standing with his jaw dropped and eyes wide, taking in all of Steve’s gloriously naked form on the couch.

“What?” Steve asked innocently.

Deep breaths, Bucky thought to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to not think about killing Sam for taking a good long look. Then he had to remember not to take a good long look himself.

“I know you two are close friends and all, and maybe things were different back in the 40’s, but dude. Pants. Please put on some pants. Or a blanket.” By this time Sam was studiously looking at the TV, take out bags held in front of him like a ward.

“I keep trying,” Bucky said with a sigh. He walked around the couch and dragged the couch throw blanket back over Steve’s lap, confident that Steve would be too lazy to move it for at least the next fifteen minutes.

“Pants are a tool of the oppressor, Sam.” Steve looked perfectly serious. Anyone else might have been fooled, but Bucky had known Steve since he was a sneaky little bastard with light fingers. He could smell a rat.

“You’re not serious,” Sam said flatly. “Are you? I mean, yeah, clothing kinda is a way people have kept up class divides, but---”

“He’s fucking with you.” Bucky grabbed a wet wipe from the stack of them on the end table and proceeded to attempt to get the latest collection of food debris off of Steve’s mouth.

“Hey! Buck. Bucky! Stop! Buck--- I mean it!” Despite all of the protests, Steve only put up a token resistance.

“Like a fucking child, I swear to god,” Bucky grumbled as he walked off, grabbing the take out bags from Sam and setting up them at the table. “If you could wipe your own damn face you would, so until then I will whether you like it or not.” That last was said at a yell. He pointedly didn’t look at Sam, sure in the knowledge that he was probably laughing at them.

Deep breaths. This isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s the spell.

“Seriously though, Steve. Really?”

“There was this thing on youtube. Looked kinda cool, so I kept watching. And did you know that youtube has an auto play option? You just…click something and then it’ll just keep going! You don’t even have to touch anything!”

This was how Bucky had found Steve at four am last night, watching endless rounds of cat videos. That was still better than the night before, when Steve had gotten up in the middle of the night and started watching a news comedy skit. Apparently that led to five hours of news parodies.

One would think that being afflicted with Sloth meant that Steve would be sleeping the whole night through. Seems that all it really meant was that he slept on and off throughout the day, only to be restless at night. He always waited for Bucky to be asleep before he wandered off.

The first few times he did this, Bucky ignored him. Steve wouldn’t go far, probably couldn’t go far, and Bucky had needed the rest after cleaning endlessly all day. But the five hour news stint had gotten Steve so upset that now when he got up at night, Bucky got up with him. Losing a little sleep was definitely better than seeing Steve get all bent out of shape over injustice, but unable to do anything about it.

Bucky finished setting the table. He made sure to leave out a lot of extra napkins.

“Dinner time, Steve. Get your ass up if you can and get over here so we can eat.”

“Why even bother, dude?” Sam asked. “Is it really worth the effort to get him to the table?”

“YES! You tell him, Sam!” Steve said excitedly from the couch. His momentum carried him just far enough to raise a fist in celebration, but then he sank back down into the cushions.

“Have you seen him fucking eat?! I can at least put a goddamn drop cloth under the table and I am not cleaning up more sauce from the couch cushions. Especially since SOMEONE won’t move off of them for me while I’m cleaning it up! Like a fucking zoo in here, swear to god.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his eyes and debated about seeing if Stark had some super soldier aspirin somewhere.

Both Steve and Sam started chuckling, though Bucky’s glare cowed Sam into silence.

After a moment, Steve’s laughter dropped off too. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed and then Steve asked, almost timidly. “Um…Bucky? Could you, uh. Help me to the table?” Bucky could see him grab his hair in frustration and he growled a bit. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just. I’m really fucking tired.”

All the anger and frustration melted away and Bucky dropped his head to stare at the floor. His heart bled a little. None of this was Steve’s fault. He couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t put Bucky through all this if he had a choice.

“Sure, pal. Anything you need.”

He went over and helped Steve up to standing, pulling an arm over his shoulder and tucking in the blanket around his waist. Steve sighed miserably. “I’m sorry, Buck. I hate this. I’m such a miserable piece of---”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted. “None of that. This is just a bit of a rough spell. You’ll be right as rain soon enough. Now come on. Let’s get some dinner.”

Steve hung his head and nodded, and they made their way over to the table. Before they could sit down though, Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt.

“I. Um. Could you.” He winced and heaved a big sigh.

Understanding dawned on Bucky. “Need to hit the restroom?” Steve nodded. “No problem. Let’s go do that now. But seriously, Rogers, I ain’t holding your dick for you. That’s on you.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, a sly smile on his face. “You sure, Bucky? I’d let you hold my dick any day.”

Bucky almost fucking dropped him on the ground.

What the hell.

“Wait, what?” His whole brain crashed and burned under that statement.

Sam snorted next to them. “Seriously, Steve? That’s how you wanna come out to your best friend? With that line?”

Bucky floundered, jaw agape.

“Eh. Seemed like a lot of work to keep it under wraps, you know? Lot easier just to say something.” Steve shrugged.

There were words Bucky wanted to say. Somewhere. But nothing came out. He couldn’t even fucking breath. What the fuck just happened?

“Dude. Are you actually telling me that you’re too lazy to pine?” Sam looked both appalled and impressed.

Steve just shrugged again, and then looked at Bucky. “Well?” It was said casually, but Bucky could hear the thread of fear in the statement. Could see the anxiety that couldn’t quite twist up Steve’s frame, despite its best efforts.

Bucky panicked.

He shoved Steve at Sam and was down the hall and out of the apartment in seconds. The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was Steve say, “Well, fuck. He left before I could use the bathroom, too.”

--

To be continued...

#ficlet #ficlet challange #Sloth #Sloth Part Two #So I carved out some more time to do this #because why the fuck not #this is where we amp up the crack folks #and the pining #well #sort of

[sebbytrash]

Through His Eyes - Part Two

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Nightmare, mentions of blood and torture, a mega ton of guilt and sad stuff guys. A N G S T 

A/N -  I need to do this justice guys, it’s my baby.  Feedback loved and appreciated  Please love me, I haven’t written in forever.

Through His Eyes Masterlist

The next hour is spent eating and laughing with Steve, some of the tension ebbing away whilst he recounted all the ways Sam got rejected when they were at Tony’s party a few days before. Poor guy unintentionally hit on some guys wife and it did not go well. After clearing away the plates and containers, Steve hugs you again and decides to head off to bed.

“Y/N...I just-” Steve stops at the door, suddenly serious again, “You know it wasn’t him right? Not really?”

You hesitate a little, testing out the weight of it, caught between wanting to please him and not wanting to like. Was it something you had accepted. “I know Steve.” Maybe. Did it matter?

“It haunts him, you know? Especially at night.” He smiles wearily, the strain of today written all over his face for the first time, leaves you to feel the weight of his words.

It wasn't something you had considered, not fundamentally. Maybe you’d thought he somehow moved on, never dwelled on the things he done. Maybe you simply didn't care, too caught up in how it affected you and his other victims, but still, now you were thinking. Conflicting emotions wrapping around your heart, crudely cut joy, guilt, pain and maybe a little...empathy. Wrapping tighter and tighter till you weren't sure which was strongest.

Shit.

It’s long past midnight and you're still awake, lying in your bed staring up the ceiling like it contains the answers to all of life's problems, the answers to nothing and something, and everything in between. Today had been a lot to process, seeing Bucky for the first time since...well, then, seeing not the soldier but the man. Seems he was all duct tape and glue like you, the brutal reality a stark contrast to the man you imagined, a far cry from the dead eyes and blank stares of before. Steve’s words loop around, caught between memories and nightmares and a new feeling that's here, scratching at the surface of your fortified heart.

Guilt.

That’s the point isn't it? You're supposed to forgive him now, supposed to understand the why and forget the how. Logical, practical...human. If only it were that simple.

Now, what do I do with this?

“Shit.” Muffled and low, a voice sounds outside your door. Your hands automatically reach for you gun, tucked under your pillow and wedged between the mattress and bed frame. Bob. Most reliable friend you’d ever had.

There’s someone there, hovering outside your door...are they pacing? Yep, distinct sound of threads being worn away and thoughts turning over. Less concerned for your safety and more curious and sort of annoyed now, you hoist yourself into a sitting position, roll your neck a few times, muscles gone stiff at the strenuous ceiling staring and finally find your feet. You swing the door open in one fast, fluid motion stunning your guest and in turn yourself.

Bucky.

Thoughts liquify, stunned to the point you forget to be afraid, that you should be.

“Shit, did I wake you?” He asks, voice ragged and guilty heavy, “I just- I had to say… I shouldn’t have come here. This was fucking selfish.” He runs a heavy hand down his face, gripping at his jaw so hard it had to hurt.

You're still standing there, slack jawed and blinking stupidly, it would be funny if you could muster enough coherence to recognise it but he doesn’t seem to notice, or mind, and you can tell he’s mentally berating himself. His eyes say much more than he seems to be managing with his mouth. He steps towards you and the motion jolts you, makes you take an involuntary step back but finally clearing the fog a little.

Noting your movement he stills, lowers his hands to his side and looks at you right in the eye for the second time today, lets you see the pure agony in them, “I just had to say it, Y/N, I’m so sorry for what I... if I could take it all back I would. I had to at least say it.” He holds your gaze a second longer before turning and disappearing down the hall. You watch him retreat, wondering how you got to the point where you might even feel sorry for him? Like a smidge.

Despite that, it's a while before your breathing returns to normal, before you heart stops trying to escape from your chest. It takes even longer for the tears to dry.  

“You look like shit.” You do, it's no surprise really that Sam would point it out after 0.5 of a second. Shithead.

“Bite me, Birdboy.” You flick a piece of cereal at him, dry since there was no milk. Tony was gonna be pissed.

“Out of milk again?” You nod, tipping the rest of the bowl into your mouth, “Momma Stark is gonna lose his shit.”

“I have a plammphf…” You say around the mouthful of cereal earning you a look.

“You’re disgusting.” Sam says, prompting you to show him the entire contents of your mouth as punishment. He wanted disgusting after all, “God, you’ve been hanging around why guys too much.” You shrug, he’s probably right, and finish your mouthful.

“Anyways, I have a plan.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yup. I don't plan on being here when Mrs Doubtfire wakes up.”

“Not much of a plan is it?”

“All I got dude.” He rolls his eyes and flops into the chair next to you, his own bowl of dry cereal in his hand.

“Hey.” He says, softer this time, leans in a little “you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good Sam. Promise.”

Sam hangs around most of the day, you suspect he’s keeping an eye on you but say nothing, honestly just grateful for the company. You eat, you watch movies, all in it's a good day. Yet, you can’t stop glancing at the door, wondering if he’ll appear, wondering what you’ll do. Decisions, reactions.

“Hey kid, you doing okay?” Sam asks, nods towards the door like he’s seen every glance.

You sigh, “Yeah, I am. I’m trying to be.” He raises his eyebrows at this, silently questioning, “I want to get passed this, forgive and forget.”

“Oh, yeah? For Steve or for you?” He tries to stay neutral, but you hear it anyway.

“Both, I guess?” You reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “I want to, just, not sure if I can.”

“You can, if that’s what you want. Just gonna take some time, kid. You deserve time.”

Around 5pm, Sam gets called out on a last minute mission, nothing too drastic but Redwing was needed and so Sam goes too. You stay in the lounge, adamant you can finish the full season of Stranger Things before you go to bed and somewhere along the way you fall asleep.

Dead eyes. Dead eyes.

The smell of blood is overwhelming, blood and sweat, stuck to you, drowning you. He’s here, like always, walking closer and closer. You blink a few times, trying to clear the haze, trying to see his face but it’s blurry. It’s never blurry.

The knife is clear.

He's in front of you now, face blurry except those dead eyes, drawing up his full size as he begins his slow patterns on your arm, starts at the bottom, twists and turns the blade as your scream in agony, the sounds of knife tearing flesh somehow louder. He stops, you look. A. The screaming starts again. And again.

“Y/N, Y/N wake up, it’s a dream.”

You jerk away from the cold touch on your arm, press yourself back against the couch like you can disappear into it. Figures it would be him, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

“M’sorry. Seemed like you should wake up.” Bucky says, eyeing you warily and sitting back on his haunches, maybe making himself a little smaller. You say nothing, mind still recovering from the nightmare and struggling to reconcile that Bucky with this one, the one with kind eyes and not dead.

“You said my name.” He whispers, like he wants to know but want’s to not.

“Yeah well, you had a starring role.” You say back, voice breaking a little at the end and putting a little heat in the tone.

He nods again, face aiming for detached and falling somewhere short in agony. Climbs to his feet, and goes to leave, turns a little ways back and stills, “You star in mines too.”

TAGS: @marvel-ash​ @watchmemarvel @viollettes @bionic-buckyb @howlingbarnes @manawhaat @mamapeterson @teamfreewill-imagine @writingruna @sugardaddytonystark @buckysberrie @fvckingavengers @sincerelysaraahh ​ @stevergxrs @imhereforbvcky @poe-also-bucky  @maybe-mikala @a-little-hell-to-raise  @justareader @abovethesmokestacks @stormy-thomas @learisa @mrs-lamezec @jrubalcaba  @theliarone @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @thirstybitchqueen @221bshrlocked @aikibriarrose @cinema212 @ign-is @shifutheshihtzu @mocking-rain @j25m18c24 @wanderlustxdiaries @hollycornish @iamthemaskhewears @mizzzpink @lady-sloan @learisa @tinaferraldo @haven-in-writing @miss-mcbotty  @its-daydreamer23 @yknott81 @jobean12-blog @kurosaki224-new-blog @stephie-senpai @ayeputita @because-imma-lady-assface @justreadingfics @punkpeqqy @avengerofyourheart @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco

#kale writes #through his eyes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Careful what you wish for

Prompt: Imagine Tony and bucky not getting along which results in them getting into a prank war. The other avengers complain so naturally they team up together to get everyone else and it is the best thing. I mean the worst thing for everyone else, but still the best thing.

Steve knew the atmosphere in the Tower would be tense. The so called superhero civil war left them in a certain state of disarray for the longest time, but three Earth-threatning incidents later, the team was back together trying to overcome the past in order to face the future. And for the most part, it’s been working. If he was concerned about anything in particular, it was Bucky and most importantly how Tony would take his now quite permanent presence.

However much they had worked through the programming, Bucky still behaved like the Winter Soldier at times and some of the Avengers were less than impressed by the fact. Especially Natasha, who would whip out a knife out of nowhere whenever she spotted his behavior shifting towards the darker side.

To Steve’s outmost surprise, Tony didn’t overreact. In fact, he just didn’t react at all at first. With a nonchalant shrug he one day presented Bucky with a new arm, said something along the lines of “We’re cool, it was HYDRA” but then proceeded to ignore Bucky at every opportunity. And when their paths inevitably crossed, sparks started flying - and not the good kind of sparks.

No actual fight happened…yet, but Steve fears the day when one takes an argument just a bit too far and the other starts throwing furniture – or worse, weapons – instead of swear words. The situation just couldn’t get any worse.

Or so he thought.

Because then one morning, few weeks after they all moved in, Bucky shuffled to the toaster to prepare his usual breakfast – he put two slices of bread in and waited for the standard one minute and a half that it took to get the perfect golden sear, looming very Winter Soldier-y over the machine. The toasts popped out after said time, but instead of two perfectly crunchy and yummy toasts, two pieces of black and smoking charcoals jumped out instead.

“Must have put them in for longer, Bucks,” Steve told him, making excuses for the small device even if he knew it was precisely one and a half minute. Bucky counted every second, of that he was sure. But seeing his best friend glare at the poor toaster so fiercely he feared the machine would explode any minute, he just quickly took the ruined bread out and put a new pair in.

Exactly one and a half minute later, history repeated itself and the two slices of bread popped out blacker than the night, the awful smell of burnt pastry now spreading across the common floor’s kitchen.

“Let’s uh…try a shorter time then,” he offered, still trying to save the situation but when even after mere fifteen seconds all the toasts ended up cremated, Steve gave up.

Bucky’s glare intensified with every failed attempt at saving his meal, he even let out a low growl and that’s how Steve knew the machine’s days are numbered.

“It’s probably just…malfunctioning,” Tony said, appearing in the doorway, cringing at the smell. There was something odd about the way he said that, but Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Bucky was a different story though. His glare zeroed in on the grinning engineer, the murderous intent quite evident. Before Steve could intervene and stop what he believed would be one angry Winter Soldier jumping one still brightly smiling Iron Man and murdering him right there and then, Bucky grabbed onto the toaster and crushed it to bits in his metal arm, eyes never leaving Tony.

Said engineer’s grin twisted into something Steve didn’t really understand, but as Bucky walked around Tony to leave the premises – bits of the destroyed toaster littering the floor as he went – a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. A challenge. One that mirrored itself in the retreating assassin’s eyes.

Little did Steve know at the time, that what he witnessed was the beginning of a war.

 The next time Tony emerged from his workshop after a week-long inventing and scheming binge, he barely even greeted Clint and Natasha sitting at the kitchen bar and went straight for the coffee maker. He wasn’t about to let the Winter Menace gain on him in the ongoing war score by foolishly thinking his most prized kitchen device remained untainted by the vengeance thirsty assassin, so he inspected it very carefully before deeming it safe and switching it on.

He smirked triumphantly, when the coffee maker did what was expected – brewed coffee – without any strange occurrence. Clint and Natasha exchanged a questioning look and continued watching him as he victoriously hoisted the finished product, poured himself a healthy large cup of it and joined them at the bar.

“Looks like I’ve overestimated the double ass-in,” he muttered into the cup, somewhat disappointed.

Disappointment turned to horror the moment he took a big gulp of the black liquid – it was coffee, only it’s been apparently mixed with balsamic vinegar. He spat the entire mouthful out, right onto his two very unamused companions.

“You wanna die, Stark?!” Natasha blurted out at him in Russian and he only understood it because that’s what he translated it as after the Winter Wonder growled the same sentence at him two days ago, when he slipped into his military grade boots during a routine assemble, only to find them full of egg yolks. Tony’s glee was short-lived even then, because when he put the helmet on to cover his smirk, he found it filled with lube.

He still didn’t want to speculate on when and how did the Winter Soldier acquire it, because just imagining him waltzing into Wallmart and casually buying a bottle of lube and some pretzels sent his brain on a whole different adventure, one hardly compatible with his battleplan.

Nevertheless, nobody gets away with tainting his sacred coffee! So he sneaked around Natasha and the slightly stunned bird-man and headed straight to the workshop.

It was time to up the game!

 Bucky no longer remembered who started it, let alone why this prank war between him and Stark commenced – other than the fact they were kinda in each other’s hair for quite some time after he moved in, but he would be lying his teeth off if he were to say he didn’t start enjoying this somewhere along the way. The Winter Soldier part of him in fact relished in the schemes and was equally impressed by his pranks as well as Stark’s. So instead of pointlessly wandering around the Tower – which is basically all he had done before the prank war has been declared – trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with his newly found life, he would now spend his days devising devious pranks, setting them up and then evading, or failing to evade Stark’s own.

And it was glorious.

What he was not sure about is if Stark was enjoying this because he still fiercely hated him for what Bucky’s done and for who he was – or – if he was having just as much mischievous fun as him now.

Considering the pranks gradually turned jovial – even flirtatious if Bucky dared say – as opposed to the initial malicious ones, he would like to believe it was a combination of both…leaning toward the second. Hopefully. Maybe.

The real problem wasn’t even Stark. But the other Avengers, unwittingly ending up in the middle of the warzone majority of the times, were beginning to grow tired of the conflict. And their cup of patience was bound to spill over.

He was sitting with Steve, Sam and Natasha in the kitchen – a hot spot for pranking activities, so most avoided it now – when Stark walked in, immediately alerting to Bucky’s presence.

“Please tell me the kitchen’s safe today, man!” Sam pleaded, squinting between him and Stark.

Neither answered, Bucky just shrugged with an innocent ‘You’ll never know’ expression while Tony cautiously made his way to the counter, longingly staring at the coffeemaker.

Since the vinegar incident, Bucky made sure to not temper with it anymore. Of course on purpose. Because if Stark spent the past few days thinking it’s safe to operate, then…

Stark made the same assumption as yesterday and clicked the on button without second-guessing the decision. In an instant, the coffeemaker was showering coffee onto everyone in the vicinity – including him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, dude!” Sam cursed, ducking underneath the table.

“Seriously, Bucks?” Steve whined, not even bothering to hide from the onslaught of the still warm beverage.

Natasha somehow managed to avoid the carnage by teleporting around the doorway, from where she decided to glare at Bucky.

“You do realize, Barnes, that you just got caught in your own set-up?” Stark asked, slowly turning to face the table. He was completely drenched in coffee, but despite his state of undoing he looked as collected as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stark,” Bucky replied, face falling emotionless.

Stark’s mouth twitched for a second there, but he didn’t break the cold stare. “What I’m talking about is that you are losing a point for this. Sure, you got me, but you got yourself too! Counts as friendly fire in my books.”

“You’re keeping a score?!” Sam all but yelled from under the table.

“FRIDAY is. I’m winning, right?” Tony asked, smiling brightly as if streams of coffee weren’t going down his face.

“Not exactly, boss,” the AI answered carefully.

“Right, I almost forgot!” Stark clasped his hands together and his stare turned into a neutral expression Bucky has learnt to understand as ‘danger ahead’. “You might wanna leave the room now. Gotta clean this mess.”

He wanted Bucky to leave the room, specifically. That much Bucky figured from his daring look. Was there something waiting for him in the common room? Pie to the face? Maybe some beads to slip on and fall? Deciding to humor the engineer, he got up…or tried to get up. “What the…,” he blurted out, looking over his shoulder to see that the chair was very much stuck to his butt.

“Now you’re winning,” FRIDAY announced after that, clearly counting the extra point for Stark as decisive.

“Yesss,” Stark hopped into the air, flashing up a victorious sign for good measure, not caring one bit for the coffeemaker that was still on rampage behind him. “You uh…seem a bit…stuck in there, Winter Blunder,” he pointed at the chair, not giving way to Bucky’s attempts at unsticking it.

Bucky sent the clearly amused man the deadliest of looks, noticing how Steve tensed up and Natasha procured not one, but two knives.

If Stark wanted to play dirty, he could indulge the man no problem. He was Bucky Winter god damn Soldier Barnes. So he broke his cold stare into a grin that maintained its dangerousness and did what one had to do in his precarious situation.

Unbuckled his belt and undressed from his jeans.

That sure dealt with the chair issue. And effectively wiped that victorious smirk off of Stark’s face. Good thing he wore the ‘Fuck…’ ‘…off’ boxers today – finally an opportunity to wiggle those at the right target presented itself.

“Just letting you know, boss, that I am adding a point to his score for this,” FRIDAY surprisingly took his side, even sounding amused.

“Okay, enough is enough!” Steve smashed a hand against the table and nearly broke it in half, scaring Sam shitless. “You, you,” he pointed at him and Stark separately, then turned to Natasha, “all of you in the common room, now! Call everybody in there, FRIDAY!” he commanded and stormed to the entrance. “Oh and if the two of you have something, anything to confess before we step into the room now’s the time. Because I swear to god if someone trips on more wires or gets superglue and confetti to the face, again, I will seriously hurt somebody,” he warned, face dead serious.

That was one pissed-off Steve Rogers, if Bucky had ever seen one.

Stark cleared his throat, side-stepping around him. “You might not want to sit on the sofa then,” he actually confessed.

With a sigh, Bucky added onto the disclosure. “And avoid the glass doors to the terrace.”

“And…don’t step on the carpet. Don’t even ask,” Stark adds when Bucky frowned at him.

“Riiiight,” Steve took a deep breath. “Is there any room in the Tower other than our private ones that are a hundred percent safe?” he asked patiently.

Bucky exchanged a questioning look with Stark and answered in sync with him. “No.”

“Nope. Well…the roof, maybe?” Stark suggested.

“No.”

“Oh…the workshop then.”

“Definitely not,” Bucky shakes his head.

“You don’t have access in there!”

“Had to get creative,” he explained with a shrug. “The gym looked safe last night.”

“Yeah…so did the coffeemaker,” Stark argued with a suggestive smirk.

“I see. That’s a no to room safety then, Stevie,” Bucky summed it up to one furious looking Captain America.

The Avengers poured into the common room and per Steve’s further directions remained standing in front of the elevator, because everywhere else was a minefield. His words, not Bucky’s.

“Why are you all wet?” Bruce frowned, looking disturbed.

“Forget that but why are you not wearing any pants, dude?” Peter asked with an unreadable expression, pointing out Bucky’s state of undress.

“And why are your butt cheeks telling me to fuck off?” Clint added, covering his eyes with a cringe.

“Long story,” Bucky retorted simply.

“This,” Steve began once he had everyone’s undivided attention, “whatever this is,” he flailed his hand at the two of them, “gotta end. Now.”

“What do you mean?” Stark squinted at the Captain. “There’s no this or that. Nothing to end here,” he motions between himself and Bucky.

“He means the prank war, you assholes!” Rhodey explains for the Captain, looking accusingly at his best friend. “You know, the one that started couple of weeks ago and is annoying the hell out of everyone in the Tower?!”

Stark fakes the most offended expression ever. “I would never! Me and pranks? No! How dare you…you traitor,” he mouths at the Patriot.

“He’s right. It was amusing at first I have to admit,” Wanda chuckled at Stark, “especially when you fell asleep in the kitchen and woke up with kiddie stickers of Captain America plastered all over you…but it is getting ridiculous now. We are caught in the crossfire all the time. You want to fight then fight, but leave us out of it!”

“Nobody is fighting anyone…please,” Steve came in after the Avengers erupted in agreeing rumble. “I mean it. This war is over, you two. If you can’t get along and can’t work together then…then don’t. I get it. You don’t like each other, point taken! I hoped…I wished that you would and it’s really sad that you can’t but if that’s how it is then I can’t do anything about it now, can I? Just…keep out of each other’s way, ignore each other, whatever works for you! Just stop this madness…,” he trailed out with a sad sigh and turned to leave.

The Avengers all nodded and hummed in agreement, sending them dirty looks while following Steve out of the common room, leaving the two stunned pranksters alone.

“Woooow,” Stark groaned, throwing his head back. “Just when I thought I’ve had enough of Disappointed Steve to last me a lifetime.”

Bucky sighed, silently agreeing. Did they take it too far? It was just a bit of harmless fun…right? They didn’t mean for the Avengers to be the collateral damage in most of the pranks but what’s the harm in some splashed coffee? Can’t the Avengers take a joke?

“They really can’t take a joke, can they?” Stark unknowingly voiced Bucky’s inner thoughts and at the same time confirmed something for Bucky.

So it was all fun and jokes. Not an ‘I hate you, but I can’t straight up murder you so I’m gonna prank you’ war. Not anymore at least. It was just for good fun now and it was really good, too. They were really good at this and that’s what made it so enjoyable.

That’s where Bucky realized that Steve was wrong. It’s not that they disliked each other…not anymore. It’s because they found out they actually like each other, with every new elaborate prank. So it dawned on him right there, that they can absolutely fulfill Steve’s wish.

“Hey Stark,” he began, staring at the flustered engineer. “You realize he just wants us to work together, right?”

“Yeah, well. Too bad! He’s a spoilsport! Him and this whole bunch so Capsicle can take his wish and stick it right up his spangled ass!”

“No…what I mean is…he told us to stop this,” he gestures between them, “prank war thing. He told us to stop this and ignore each other if we can’t work together,” he grinned.

Stark alerted to his suggestive tone and squinted at him. “So?”

“So, Mr. Genius, if Captain America wants us to work together then hell. We can work together…right? If they acted like this with just the two of us throwing pranks at each other…imagine the nightmare we can come up with for them if we do work together. As per Captain’s wish,” he slowly spelled it out for the frowning man, until his confused expression melted into a matching mischievous grin.  

“I see…yeah! Hell yeah, those little uptight bastards…,” he muttered, clearing his throat and looking straight up at Bucky. “Well then Mister Barnes, looks like we are burying the hatchet for the greater good that is mutual teamwork. My genius and your efficiency put together, the Captain is going to wish he had never wished for what he wished for!”

“Serves him right. And it’s Bucky,” he grinned wider, offering his flash hand to the man.

He shook it despite Bucky fearing he might not. “Tony. Now, let’s destroy those killjoys!”

“Yeah…but first, tell me what you did to that carpet,” he demanded, looking suspiciously at the white fluffy carpet in front of the television he preferred to sit on.

“You tell me how and what you rigged my workshop with and we’ve got a deal.”

“Deal.”

 Steve knew the atmosphere in the Tower would be tense. The so called supersoldier vs. supergenius prank war left the team wondering if now that it’s over they can freely roam the Tower again and hopefully not witness any more disputes between Bucky and Tony. After his intervention he feared their relationship or lack thereof would in fact escalate for the worse.

And oh, he had no idea just how worse it would be.

Just few days later, after everything seemed to have gone back to normal and it was indeed safe to move around and interact with objects inside public rooms again, Steve had learnt the meaning of the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’. Because if he thought Bucky and Tony not getting along and fighting was his biggest nightmare, they went the extra mile to prove to him that them working together, as he wished, was actually even worse!

Nowhere was safe anymore. Nothing they touched was safe anymore. Their sanity was not safe anymore.

Clint couldn’t even think about slithering through the vents as usual because every day, there was something new waiting to get him in there. Like mouse traps, glue or milk or fifty gallons of lube just sloshing in there…and Steve really didn’t want to think about where they got fifty gallons of lube from. The internet no doubt.

Natasha found her entire wardrobe full of formerly black ninja clothes was filled with pink ones. Pink. Natasha’s! Pink spandex, pink lacey dresses, pink hair ribbons, pink high-heels, pink underwear. She was ready to murder the perpetrators instantly, but found her entire stash of murder knives turned into pink plastic ones, with Hello Kitty stickers on them.

Vision couldn’t move through walls anymore, because the spaces in between were, according to his words, littered with disturbing erotica posters. Wanda couldn’t even round a corner without some ridiculous Halloween decoration jumping out at her, making her shriek in fright every time. Peter’s webbing was now regularly changing color, consistency and even smell. Sam couldn’t go for his morning runs because his running shoes were either filled with something or they mysteriously turned into high-heels, no matter where he hid them.

Bruce thought he’d be safe, but no. His clothes just disappeared. All of them. All he was left with were dozens of pairs of Hulk-themed underwear. Tight underwear. He tried buying new clothes, but they would disappear too. And eventually all the nearby storeowners would just present him with Hulk-themed kid clothing, just for him.

Rhodey appeared once in the common kitchen, looking blue – actually blue, like his skin was this bright shade of blue – and he just straight up left the Tower. Receiving further reports of him going all kinds of colors and even him with a long blonde hair, leaving clearly didn’t work out for him very much.

Thor…where to even begin with Thor. Who now had short spiky hair and was clean-shaved. And his hammer…oh Mjolnir got some major face-lift. Tony’s words of course, claiming that lift is not worthy of lifting the hammer but his lift is worthy of lifting the hammer’s spirits. It was red and gold now. Which would match Thor’s robes somewhat, if those didn’t mysteriously turn into Loki’s.  

And Steve was naturally the pair’s most favorite target, for they never once failed to color all three orange juices in his fridge red, white and blue – so he could have a true, patriotic breakfast every morning, according to Bucky. Speaking of red, white and blue that’s what his room was decorated in, from the walls down to the carpet, the bed and the furniture, the entire bathroom, too! His clothes, his wallet, his hair, his gym, his favorite French croissants – all red, white and blue…and the national anthem was set on his alarm now and it played whenever he entered the common floor. During training, it would instead play ‘’Murica! Fuck yeah!’.

All in all, it took just one week for Steve to wave the white flag of surrender, apologize to team WinterIron – which is what they called themselves now – and yield to their prank mastery. He even told them he was impressed and really happy that they get along…if only they could now show their newly found friendship and teamwork to…their enemies instead maybe?  

Which resulted in HYDRA and Nick Fury both getting pranked at every opportunity instead of the Avengers. And if Steve began to think his two friends now get along a little more than just friends, he didn’t comment on it.

As if he or anyone else dared to, after all this.

- Lantia 

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #prompts #lantia #swearing #humor #prank war

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 5x18: “Point of No Return”

Quite the interesting song choice. “The Man Upstairs” by Kay Starr.

Bummed out Zachariah at a bar.

“That’s all they care about upstairs, ain’t it? Results, results, results. They don’t know. They’re not down on the ground, in the mud, nose to nose with all you pig-filthy humans, am I right?”

“Absolute—filthy what?”

lmao, poor guy catching what Zachariah said.

Another gif I’d seen often without knowing what the context was.

RIP Stuart and the bartender. Killed by Zachariah’s “boss”...whoever that is.

Dean-o.

Preparing to leave.

I”m trying to pause the screen to read this letter Dean is writing. I can make out the words “you’ll look after her” which is probably referring to Baby (tho I did initially think it was about Lisa, as he had told her last episode that “they” won’t get what they want from him without agreeing to something first...aka protection for her and Ben.) Also before that statement, it looks like Dean made a Back to the Future reference (which, of course he would) “Where we’re going, we don’t need  no roads”

He also mentions someone (or something?) being an “honorary Winchester in my book” and I hope he means Cas.

[After episode edit: Supernatural Wiki is awesome and provides a transcript to a good chunk of the letter. It confirms most of my guesses except the “honorary Winchester” is Bobby; I ain’t even mad about that.]

It was about to be sent to Bobby.

“It’s not too hard to figure out the stops on the Farewell Tour.” Well thank god Sam knows Dean so well.

“How could you do that?”

“How could I? All you’ve ever done is walk away.”

“And I was wrong. Every single time I did.” 

“You know I have to stop you.”

“Yeah, well, you can try. Just remember: You’re not all hopped up on demon blood this time.”

Dean delivering some low blows here...and he’s just getting started.

Cas! 

Who is phenomenally pissed and staring daggers at Dean.

“But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I coulda done something about it, guess what? That’s on me.” Huh, that’s still part of the reason Dean says yes to Michael in S13.

“You’re not my father. And you ain’t in my shoes.”

DEAN WINCHESTER, YOU TAKE THAT BACK IMMEDIATELY.

It would’ve been kinda hilarious if Bobby had shot Dean for that alone.

“That’s the round I mean to put through my skull. Every morning, I look at it. I think, ‘Maybe today’s the day I flip the lights out.’ But I don’t do it. I never do it. You know why? Because I promised you I wouldn’t give up!”

:(

RIP 2 angels. Killed by Cas.

Will the real Adam Milligan please rise?

Cas wards Adam.

My god, Adam sounds so much like Dean.

Whoomp, there it is. Adm was brought back to replace Dean as Michael's vessel.

Cas shading Dean, lol.

“Why would they do this?”

“Maybe they’re desperate. Maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them.”

“Alright, you know what? Blow me, Cas.”   

Adam even acts like Dean, whereas Ghoul!Adam was more like Sam...

“Please, just trust me. Give me some time.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because we’re blood.”

Yeah, that ain’t gonna cut it.

“No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you.”

Dude, it’s not their fault they never found out about you.

Jeez, what a dick.

Not that easy to escape, pal.

“The one thing worse than seeing dad once a year was seeing him all year.”

“Do you know how full of crap you are?”

“What?”

“Really. You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed. So you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything.”

SERIOUSLY WHAT A MEDIUM BAG OF DICKS

 Does Adam ever stop with the smartass remarks?

DEAN WHAT THE FUCK.

“I mean, think about how many people we've gotten killed, Sam. Mom, Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen. Should I keep going?” None of those deaths were your own fault, you’re reaching for straws here pal.

“I just…I—I don’t believe.” 

“In what?”

“In you.”

I hate Dean’s campaign of driving people away so they’ll let him go, I h a t e t h i s.

“You’re angry, you’re self-righteous. Lucifer's gonna wear you to the prom, man. It's just a matter of time.” 

“Don’t say that to me. Not you...of all people.”

Omg, an almost direct parallel from “When the Levee Breaks”.

You made Sam cry, you asshole.

I love Bobby checking in on his sons :’)

How did Dean know Cas was gonna come down to check in on him? That crash was well timed.

And Cas actually showed concern for him!!

Dean, you fucking asshole.

“Cuff him to your chair.” lmao

Adam, meet Zachariah.

The other time where I can’t even argue against Zachariah...except for the “erotically” bit.

“Trust me, kid, when the heat gets hot, they're not gonna give a flying crap about you. Hell, they'd rather save each other's sweet bacon than save the planet.” Oh wait, there’s another time he’s just...kinda right. Tho I’d kinda argue that they’ve come a long way from that.

OOOHHH HERE IT COMES. ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES IN THE SERIES...and the reason I started shipping Destiel full time.

El Sol!

OOOOHHH IT’S DEAN BEATDOWN TIME!!!

It is so satisfying to see Cas beat the shit out of Dean after everything he’s said and done in this episode.

Also, how are NONE of the passing civilians noticing this fight???

I just...get a huge kick out of that scene. 

And now, I attempt to explain why this scene (of all scenes) was the reason I started shipping Destiel:

To me, there were two stages of Destiel; 1. Dean’s in love with Cas and 2. Cas is in love with Dean. For whatever reason, this was the moment I realized Cas had very deep feelings for Dean. 

The level of betrayal he was feeling from Dean seemed much more personal than just ‘I went to bat for the guy and he struck out, wah wah”. 

Also, the fact that he emphasized that he did/gave EVERYTHING for solely Dean definitely came off more than platonic to me. 

(Not to mention how close their faces were to each other; almost every time I watch this scene, I half expect them to start making out with each other.)

All I know is that from there on out, I looked forward to their interactions--well, even more than I already did-- and that I was looking at them in a different light.

“Bobby, what do you mean ‘Adam is gone’?”

“Should I say it in Spanish?”

lmaoo. Knowing Bobby, he probably could.

“What the hell happened to him?”

“Me.”

ayyyy

Unceremoniously dumped on the couch, lmao.

And I also kinda love that they asked about what happened to Dean only once, then proceeded to talk more about Adam. It may be because he’s the bigger fish to fry, but it kinda reads to me that Bobby and Sam are in silent agreement that Dean had that beating coming, so they won’t even ask more about it.

The Green Room.

Oh, Persephone move there bro.

“So you lied...about everything.”

“We didn’t lie. We just avoided certain truths to manipulate you.”

Adam, you poor fool.

i wonder who carried Dean down to the panic room.

“Word to the wise: don’t piss off the nerd angels.”

“Either it’s a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it’s not a trap and I’m gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I’ll do it. Fair warning.” No, you won’t.

“When push shoves, you’ll make the right call.” Sam’s right.

“I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?“

“Because… you’re still my big brother.”

I am like, Sam’s #1 fan when it comes to this episode. I am rooting like hell for him.

Van Nuys, California.

I love Dean’s reaction as Cas takes off his tie; he even looks over to Sam like “you seeing this?”

“Whoa, wait. You’re gonna take on five angels?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that suicide?”

“Maybe it is. But then I won’t have to watch you fail.”

RIP Dean, torn a new one by Cas.

Dean looked at Cas like he thought the box-cutter was for him.

RIP angel. Killed by Cas.

One down, four to go.

What a badass move.

“You came for me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re family.”

Awww.

Crap.

Zachariah’s just twisting the knife.

“Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I’ll do it.”

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

“Okay, yes. The answer is yes.”

:(

You can literally pinpoint the moment Dean changes his mind.

“I said…before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass…he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal.” There’s the Dean I love.

“Michael’s not gonna kill me.” Zachariah’s last words.

RIP Zachariah. Killed by Dean. Still such a satisfying death!

Whoa, just realized Dean watched Zachariah die...and he still has eyeballs.

Dean lets go of Adam to help Sam. That one little decision with such huge consequences...

“Dean! Help! Deean!” 

Poor Adam. I really do feel sorry that he got caught up in all this. I’m kinda hoping they’ll address him a bit in S14.

“You think Adam’s okay?”

“Doubt it. Cas either. But we’ll get ‘em.” aww.

“So, what changed your mind?”

“Honestly? The damnedest thing. I mean, the world’s ending. The walls are coming down on us, and I look over to you and all I can think about is, ‘This stupid son of a bitch brought me here.’ I just didn’t want to let you down.” 

ACCEPT THE APOLOGY SAM.

“Just...let me say this. I don't know if it's being a big brother or what, but to me, you've always been this snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight and narrow. I think we both know that that's not you anymore. I mean, hell, if you're grown-up enough to find faith in me…the least I can do is return the favor. So screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them, and do it our way.”

That meant the universe to Sam.

HELL FUCKING YES DEAN. You are forgiven for the bull you pulled this episode.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 5x18 #point of no return #aka the episode i started shipping destiel full time