#JOHN YOU GOTTA GET OUT AND GET BACK TO ME!!! the desperation in his voice.

[stargirlrchive]

hiii <3 💌 just thinking about how Price would pull you into his lap and bounce his leg while doing paperwork at his desk—you’re overstimulated and the friction of his canvas pants and your bare clit making you whine, him chuckling and hushing you so he can focus on his reports :((

cw: john price x fem!reader, thigh riding, no use of y/n

petnames used: bunny, doll, girl (atta girl), brat

nonnie i hope u like this <33

price rarely ever took his work back home. unless it was absolutely necessary. much like today, he had a stack of paperwork he had been pushing aside but deadlines were approaching and he needed to get this done.

only problem was you. his pretty little bunny.

when you walked into his office in nothing but his shirt he knew you’d be distracting him. the way your thighs clenched together as you shifted from foot to foot.

mumbling about how you wanted him to go to bed with you.

and he wished he could, especially when you sat yourself on the edge of his desk and spread your legs to show him just how wet you were.

there was nothing obstructing his view, just your fingers gently rolling against your puffy clit.

“please, john. come to bed with me.”

his fingers gripped at your wrist to stop you, tugging you onto him until your legs straddled one of his thigh.

“can’t, doll. gotta finish this up.”

and you really couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth, “you never have time for me anymore.”

and john felt his stomach clench as you turned your face away from him. one hand reached out for your chin to tilt your face back to him.

and the site before him had him cooing at you, your cheeks felt hot under his fingers, eyes red rimmed and sad. his other hand gripped onto your hip to pull you closer onto him but a warbled gasp left your mouth.

your thighs tightened around him, rocking forward before halting as if you didn’t know whether to grind yourself against him or not.

you were still trying to be upset.

he huffed out a laugh, tightening his hold on your chin as he lazily rocked your hips down onto his toned thigh.

“you know i never bring work home, doll. s’not that i’m trying to push you away.”

you huffed, arms crossed over your chest as you refused to look at him. the rough texture of his pants pressed right against your puffy clit was making you lose focus.

“how about you ride my thigh while i finish this up, hm?”

that made your flicker back to his and he had a knowing smile on his face, “then i’m all yours, yeah?”

he didn’t give you time to protest, not that you would, but he pushed the two of you closer to his desk. the hard wood pressed against the dip of your back, your chest pressed to his as he lazily guided you down against the taut muscle of his thigh.

“jus’ gotta wrap this up, love. take y’r time.”

and he could sense how much you were trying to restrain yourself. still trying to prove you were upset. but with a couple bounces of his knee your hips picked up pace.

huffing and forcing yourself to keep quiet as you began to rut your clit against him. he could feel how wet you were. and his fingers itched to dig into your hips and just sit you on his cock.

but he had a deadline. and not even this could distract him from that.

or so he thought, blood rushed to his cock when your face tucked into his neck and the pretty sounds leaving your mouth began to grow louder.

“gotta keep quiet, bunny. m’busy.”

and your movements grew more desperate at the sound of his voice. grinding down against his thigh, rubbing your bare pussy all along the rough canvas of his pants.

your fingers had begun to fist at his shirt, whining softly each time he bounced his leg beneath you. you rolled down harder. delivering shallow little thrust to provide perfect stimulation to your clit.

john’s fingers had tightened around his pen, reading the words over and over as he tried to focus. but he could feel the warmth and wetness of your cunt on his thigh and all he wanted to do was bury himself inside of you.

he took a deep breath, reading over the same sentence for the fifth time as he tried to retain the information, but to no avail.

your body tensed and price abandoned his work in that instant. both of his thick hands gripping at your waist as he pushed you down harder against his thigh.

a soft cry left your mouth as you came, his fingers massaging your hips as he continued to rock you against him.

“atta girl.”

you were panting and breathless by the end of it, john tucking you into him once again as he resumed on his paperwork.

you were about to shift your hips, your clit aching and puffy, but he delivered a soft pinch to your hip.

“keep working yourself on my thigh. you don’t get off so easily for being a brat and distracting me.”

#john price #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #john price x female reader #call of duty #cod

[tempting-andromeda]

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

#rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan headcanons #john marston x reader #John marston headcanons #dutch van der linde #Dutch can see Linde x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #charles smith headcanons #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier Escuella headcanons #Arthur Morgan #John marston #sean macguire #Sean macguire headcanons #Sean macguire x reader #lenny summers #Lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy #Micah bell #eagle flies x reader #eagle flies #kieran duffy x reader #micah bell x reader

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: not a request - “Reader finds out they’re pregnant and freaks out.”

Warnings: pregnancy talk, pregnant!reader, crying, fluff

Enjoy!

══════════════════

You stood in the bathroom, hands on the counter as you stare at the second and really dark pink line that appeared almost instantly.

You could feel your stomach turning, which has been happening the last week - to which you now know the answer to. 

“Fuck.” You rest a hand on your forehead, “Okay.” You breathe out, “Fuck fuck fuck.” Your voice turns into a whispered squeal, which is full of panic. 

Johnnie suddenly breaks you from your panicked state by coming through the front door yelling, “Babe! Babe! Come out here. If you’re sleeping wake up!” 

You wipe your face, “Oh, fuck.” You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together as quick as you can, “Goddamn it, Johnnie.” 

You also have an answer as to why you’ve been so grumpy lately. 

You scatter to cram the paper evidence from the pregnancy test box and throw it in the trash bin.

You bend down with a groan and pull it out, trying to cover it up as best you could. 

You were scared. 

You could feel your heart racing quick and you felt like you were going to throw up. You felt very overwhelmed and you eventually end snapping on Johnnie.

Johnnie knocks on the door, “Hey, babe. You in there? I gotta tell ya something.” You press your lips together, desperately hoping your voice sounds normal, “I’ll be right out, baby.” 

“Come on.” He whines, “I’m so excited to tell you!” 

Johnnie’s persistent-ness is pushing you closer to that breaking point. You close your eyes and take a slow deep breath before you stand up, walking over to the door. 

You pull it towards you, keeping it closed slightly and your body blocking the counter, “Johnnie. I said give me a second.” 

He stops and stares at you, “Um. Okay?” He says plainly, “I don’t understand what that was all about.” 

You sigh, “I just.. I need a second, okay?” 

“What’s going on?” Johnnie asks, now finally noticing your puffy eyes from crying, “Why are you crying?” He steps closer and your hand on the door knob tightens, “I’ll tell you then..” 

“No, tell me now.. if you’re.. in trouble, I would like to know.” He reaches up to touch your face but the thought of him not wanting anything to do with you once he knows makes you wince. 

Johnnie notices your wince and he shakes his head, stepping closer to the door, “No, seriously. What’s going on.” 

You just burst into tears, completely letting your boiling emotions take over. You step back from the door and cover your face. 

Johnnie moves to you, taking you into his arms and kissing your head, “Hey, hey.” He whispers as you gasp for air, completely breaking down. 

“Y/n.” He says, his voice louder, “y/n.” 

He looks around, making sure nothing was going on. His does a double take once his eyes move over the positive pregnancy test. 

He reaches out, sliding it closer, “When is this from?” 

You sniffle against his chest, “t-today.” You cry out, word vomit coming up and out, “I-im so-o sor-ry, John-nie.” 

He set the test down and cups your cheeks, “Why are you sorry?” He’s starting to panic more the longer you take to say anything, “Babe.”

“I-I know you don’t want kids right now.. a-and an-d I ju-“ you breathe out, sobbing into his chest. 

“Y/n, baby. Sweetheart.” Johnnie grabs your face, “look at me.” You look up at him, sniffling and gasping for air and he sighs, “Calm down. Take a breather.” 

He has you take a deep breath with him and he nods, “Good. Okay. So tell me.” He reaches back, slipping the test off the counter and holds it up, “Is this why you’ve been weirdly sick this last week and a half?” 

You smirk, still a mess from crying, “y-yes.”

“I’m not mad, alright. I mean. I was mad that you wouldn’t let me come in but now I get it.” He kisses your forehead, “A baby wasn’t in the plans, but does anything really ever go to plan?” 

He’s calmed you down enough now and you blow out air, “I was.. genuinely scared you weren’t going to want me anymore.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Please, no one can take you away from me.” He pulls you in, “I can’t wait to see you with a little baby belly.” 

You laugh slightly, “Oh.” You look up at him, “What did you want to tell me?” 

He bats the air, “nothing is as important as this.” He sighs, “we were supposed to go to diner to celebrate a future collab with some people, but I’m not going.”

“Is who I’m thinking of?” You sniffle and Johnnie nods. Your eyes grow wide and you start to tear up again, “Oh Johnnie! I’m so proud of you.” 

You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tight, “Why aren’t you going to dinner though? Seriously, I’ll be fine.” 

“Do you feel like going?” He asks and you shake your head, “I mean, I would like to but I really don’t feel like it.” 

“I’m not leaving you alone, so if you want to stay home I’m staying home and you’re not just going to go because of me.” Johnnie says and you smile, “Only if you really want to. I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me.” 

He puts his hand over your mouth, “Uh uh uh, we’re done with the conversation now.” He leans back, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Where are you going?” You ask and he looks back at you as he walks out the door, “I’m going to tell Jake and Tara to come over so we can tell them.” 

You smiles and laid a hand on your stomach, mentally smacking yourself for having a huge meltdown over literally nothing. 

Hormones, you think with an eye roll. You make your way out to the living room so you can comfortably wait for Jake and Tara to arrive. 

══════════════════

Thanks for reading! Ilysm! As always, let me know how you liked it! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #snippet #Johnnie Guilbert #johnnie guilbert one shots #fluff #Johnnie Guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert one shot #fluff one shot #fluffy #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #Johnnie Guilbert x pregnant!reader #pregnant!reader #pregnant!y/n #Two Little Lines #one shot #johnnie and jake

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Sleepyhead

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight John Winchester x daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: the various times you’ve fallen asleep around the boys

Your brain didn’t work the same way as your brothers. To them, four to five hours of sleep every night, or even every other night, was sufficient to keep them going, even through grueling hunts.

For you, that wasn’t even sufficient enough to keep you going through your homework.

Because of this, you’d developed the skill of falling asleep anywhere, at any time, in just a few minutes.

This skill led to some interesting stories over the years.

…

“Psst,” Dean Winchester hissed as he nudged his little brother.

Sam glanced to his left and saw Dean gesturing to the back seat, where you were curled up against the window, fast asleep.

“We left like four minutes ago,” Sam whispered with a grin.

“No kidding,” Dean pulled over, reaching into his bag and pulling out a Sharpie, popping the cap off as he leaned over the back seat.

Sam gave him a sideways glance, “What’d she ever do to you?”

Dean chuckled, “This is what she gets for stealing my jacket.”

Sam glanced back again, and sure enough, somehow you’d managed to snatch Dean’s jacket and were currently using it as a blanket.

Sam shook his head, an amused smile playing across his face.

“I’m not sure the punishment fits the crime, but go right ahead.”

After you awoke, it took you the rest of the day before you saw the mustache drawn above your mouth, and the “NERD” written across your forehead, and about half an hour of scrubbing to get it off.

When you confronted Dean about it, he just laughed.

“That’s what you get, sleepyhead.”

…

“Hey, we’re back, how’s…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he saw you, head down on top of your history book, put like a light. “The homework going,” he finished half heartedly, laughing softly.

“I don’t know how she sleeps on that chair, those things are hard as rocks,” Sam commented as he headed to his bed. It had been a long hunt, and he was desperate for some sleep.

“Poor kid,” Dean said softly as he began to pull your chair away from the desk.

“Is it my night?” Sam yawned, scooting over to make room for you on his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said as he lifted you carefully into his arms. “I’ve got her.”

Sam splayed out on his bed as Dean gently set you down on his.

“Dean?” You stirred, keeping your eyes closed but reaching up to grab at the arms holding you.

“Shh,” Dean took your hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. Go back to bed, sleepyhead.”

…

“We ready to go yet?” Dean asked, replacing the library book on the shelf as Sam stood.

“Yeah, as soon as we find Y/N,” Sam glanced around. “I thought she was right here.”

“She went over to the fiction section,” Dean led the way, and stopped short when he found you, leaning against a bookshelf, a book clutched in your arms, fast asleep. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I still don’t know how she does it,” Sam muttered as he knelt next to you, reaching out to shake your shoulder. “Honey, it’s time to go.”

“Sammy?” You asked sleepily, blinking your eyes open slowly.

“C’mon,” he urged, helping you as you slowly got to your feet.

“Did you find what you needed?” You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you leaned against Sam’s tall frame. Sam smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder and guiding you towards the door.

“You bet, sleepyhead. Now let’s get outta here.”

…

“Let her sleep.”

Dean looked over at his father, frowning.

“She’ll want to see you. It’s been weeks.”

John ran a hand over his face, sighing.

“I’m not staying long, I have another lead to follow up on.”

“All the more reason to wake her up. She misses you.”

“Dean, I said let her sleep,” John glanced over at you as you stirred, but you just shifted around and fell back asleep.

“Why?” Dean demanded. He didn’t often challenge John, but after you’d broken down crying the other night, confiding in Dean how much you missed your father and how much you worried about him, he’d decided that things needed to change.

“Because she…” John shook his head. “Just don’t. Let her be, I can’t.”

“Can’t what? If you want me to do this, I need a reason.”

“Because if she sees me, she’s going to ask me to stay,” John swallowed. “And if she does that, I won’t go.”

Dean stared incredulously at his father as he made his way over to your sleeping form. John leaned down, placing a kiss to the side of his daughter’s head and smiling gently at you.

“Goodbye, sleepyhead.”

…

“I told you we shouldn’t have brought her,” Sam complained as the Impala pulled into the motel.

“I didn’t think it would take so long,” Dean grumbled.

“She was exhausted, she couldn’t even stay awake for fifteen minutes. If that vamp had found the Impala, she would’ve been a sitting duck.”

“I know, I know,” Dean ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Look, it was stupid, but she’s ok, alright? Can we just go to bed.”

“Alright,” Sam reached back to shake you awake, but Dean grabbed his arm.

“Just let her sleep, I’ll bring her in.”

Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Sam left the Impala and headed for the hotel room.

“Alright baby,” Dean sighed as he opened your door and carefully lifted you into his arms. It wasn’t as easy as it had been when you were little, but he could still lift you without much difficulty. He carried you inside and set you gently on his bed, before pulling the covers over you.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead. I’ll be watching over you.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #dean x reader #sam and dean #dean x sister #dean #dean x you #sam winchester x you #sam x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #spn sam winchester #supernatural sam #sam winchester x sister!reader #winchesters x reader #winchesters x sister #winchester x reader #winchester #john winchester #the winchester brothers

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Maybanks sister

Series masterlist, previous chapter

Chapter 6- you don’t need him

Summary: jj is struggling with the guilt he faces, Rafe and you help each other get through everything as always, and when Jj comes to apologize at tannyhill, how does Rafe feel?

Warnings: small short description of psychical abuse, slightly toxic!rafe, maybe ooc!jj?

“Dad! Dad-“ you shouted, desperately trying to get him off of your brother. Your shout was gut wrenching, your voice cracking and your eyes full of tears.

You finally managed to get him off, and you saw Jj staring at you, his face bloodied. His eyes struggling to stay open.

“Oh my God… Look what you fucking did! Look!” You cried, quickly getting down onto your knees next to JJ, ignoring your father behind you telling you he’s not worth it.

“It’s okay, JJ. It’s okay. You’re fine.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, wiping away the blood on his cheek and the drool that fell when his mouth hung open.

Your tears fell onto JJ, the memory forever engraved into yours and his brain. He was only 15 at that point, it was his birthday. You were 17.

You’d always protected him, always. He felt a strong sense of regret, having to fight the urge to turn back and come back to you, telling you he’s sorry. He was pulled out of the memory when someone came up behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” John B asked him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe took you to Tannyhill, the ride was quiet the whole way.

And when he got there, Ward was standing outside, police cars and boats around.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked back at Rafe. He held out an arm, telling you to stay in the car for a moment.

“I just saw Sarah.” Ward told him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The next days, during the sentencing for John B, you and Rafe stayed in. He had become anxious, and you were the one to calm him down every time.

He had gotten to the point of multiple panic attacks, asking questions like what if they found out or what if they caught him.

“They won’t. They won’t, Rafe.” You whispered quietly, your hands on his face, and your eyes searching his. He looked down, shaking his head to himself.

When you saw the news that John B was captured and in prison, it had calmed Rafe down a bit. But a part of you felt bad.

That was your brothers friend, your brothers friend who you practically watched grow up with him, your brothers friend who had a crush on you in his awkward acne and braces phase.

You knew that JJ was planning a way to get him out.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

“-They’re gonna eject you to the hospital. You remember cousin Ricky?”

“Cousin Ricky, the weed dealer?”

“He’s an EMT.”

“He sold us our first dime bag.”

“So? You can do both. Gig economy, bro.”

“Jesus.” John B sighed.

“Okay, but step 3 is extraction-“ Jj continued his plan.

“Times up.” Plumb spoke, interrupting the two.

“Yes, ma’am. You gotta trust me on this one.” Jj said, staring at John B. “Nothing to lose now. Eleven PM.” He stood up, and walked out.

He heard talking, when he suddenly saw a familiar face. He turned back, doing a double take, he stared out at the window, stepping closer.

He watched his father play basketball, and began banging on the door.

“Dad! Dad!”

“Let’s go.” Plumb said, grabbing him.

“Dad!”

“Let’s go.” She repeated, peeling him away from the window.

He turned back, his jaw clenched as he walked.

“I see what you did there, Plumb.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Rafe was speaking to his dad in the living room while you sat on the bed, texting back with your cousin.

You decided to tell him that Luke was in prison. He wasn’t very surprised. And somehow the topic went back to Jj.

“He’s an asshole, you know how he is.”

“I feel bad, tho.” You typed.

“Don’t feel bad, He’ll come back, I mean what’d you do for him to get pissed at you?”

“Pretty bad shit.”

“He’s always off doing pretty bad shit anyways. He’ll come back to you.”

“Hope so. Thanks Ricky.” You typed,

“Anytime.”

You shut off your phone, staring at the ceiling for a moment before you heard something hit the window. A rock.

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your body, then standing up and looking out to see a small figure in the yard. Was that…

“Jj?” You mumbled to yourself, opening up the window. He waved.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, shutting the window and quickly gathering your stuff, and heading downstairs.

You opened and shut the door quietly, stepping outside and seeing JJ.

“What the fuck do you want, JJ?” You asked him, walking towards him. He stood, staring at you and back at the house behind you.

His hands were shoved in his pockets.

“You know dads in jail?”

“Yeah… so what?” You told him.

“And you didn’t think to tell me…?”

“I wanted to, J, but I couldn’t have-“

“Why? Why couldn’t you have, y/n?” His voice raising, you put your hand over his mouth.

“If any one of them hear you they’re gonna be fucking pissed. C’mon.” You mumbled, walking away from the house, but he stood there.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked again.

“Because, I thought you would blame me. I just found out not that long ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” You spoke, your back to him. You turned around now.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Is that why you came? To just say that?”

“No. I’m sorry. I- I said some shit back at the dock… shit I didn’t mean…” he paused. “And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened at his words. It was rare for him to apologize like this. It was silent for a little.

“You have to get it, that I just… why him?” He asked, referring to Rafe.

“Because he’s the one who was there for me when no one else was. He was there for me when you weren’t.”

He stayed quiet now.

“But I get why you weren’t. Looking back at it, I haven’t treated you the best either. You’re my younger brother. And I should have protected you more-“

“Don’t.” He spoke up, quietly. “You did-“

“Well, what do we have here? Maybank, don’t you know you’re trespassing?” Rafes voice interrupted, stepping down to the both of you.

You both turned around at the voice.

“I was just on my way, cupcake.” He clicked his teeth, and turned around.

Rafe was behind him quickly, a hand on his shoulder, tightly gripping it.

“Don’t come near here again.” He whispered into his ear. “I will fucking shoot you on sight.”

“Mmm.. I’ll look forward to it. I would love to stay and join your tea party… but I have some other shit to get to.”

“You have some nerve showing up here, JJ.” He shouted when he began to walk away, Jj flipping him off from behind his back.

“Rafe, he was just-“ you began.

“Do I need to remind you that he was the one who made you cry like a fuckin’ baby the other day?” He turned to you now.

You were taken aback at his words. Stepping back as he walked towards you.

“I told you, you don’t need him. Or anyone else.”

“He’s my brother, Rafe…”

“And when has he ever done anything good for you?”

You stayed silent. He walked closer, a small sigh escaping his mouth. You slightly flinched when his hands went up. They made their way to your face, cupping it.

“I’m just trying to protect you, baby. Don’t want you getting anymore hurt than you already have been by him, or anyone else.”

—

Taglist:

@cassie0sstuff

@rafesgiirl

@fals3-g0d

@tiaamberxx

@callsignwidow

#rafe cameron fluff #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction

[ladymarycrawley]

Goalscorer of my heart - John Stones

do you really think I could end this day without writing sth to celbrate the man of my dreams' goal?

Warning: fluff with a hint of smut (not proofread sorry, time's running and I have to up for work in like 6 hours)

Tag list: @masonxomount, @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @stonesyyyy + @footiehoemcfc & @cityzenchick who kindly asked for it 🫶🏻

(gif credits to @doinggreat )

“Hello? Is the man of the match talking?”

“Well I’m not the man of the match” You could feel John’s embarrassment at your subtle compliment by the little giggle in his voice, surely followed by his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Well you should have been…you played amazingly”

“Thanks but you’re a little biased”

“You’re the goalscorer of my heart” You cooed in his ear, hoping he would have heard that despite all his teammates cheering and screaming in the background.

The image of John blushing and making a little smile appeared before your eyes as if he was standing there in the room with you. You knew him like the back of your hand and could picture his every little move even at a distance.

“Thanks, I’m really happy with that goal”

“As you should, you know what that celebration reminded me of?”

“No idea, guess you should tell me about it later at dinner”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah only if you’re willing to have dinner with your favourite goalscorer who played amazingly”

“Of course I am…” Now it was up to your boyfriend to picture your rosy cheeks getting closer to a darker tone of pink as he was playfully flirting with you, sighing happily when his mind went to that twinkle in your eyes that only appeared when you were with him. You somehow became each other’s mirror as you both ended biting on your lower lips simultaneously.

“Can’t wait to be your date tonight”

“Gotta go now” He had to scream as the boys were chanting his name, celebrating the hero he was “I’ll call you when I’m almost home, get ready okay?”

“I’m always ready for you”

John rolled his eyes, trying to push Ruben away from him so he could end the phone call with you properly. “Don’t be naughty nor a liar”

“I’m not! Go celebrate with the boys, I’ll see you later” You blew him a kiss and hung up.

You didn’t expect for him to take you out after a draining game like that, in fact you wouldn’t have minded a cozy night in but maybe he was in the mood for something bigger and how could you no to John Stones?

It was impossible to say no to him but you would have lied if you said you didn’t hate him a little when he didn’t tell you where he would have taken you: to that fancy little bistrot you loved? Or to the new one they opened last week he said he wanted to try? What should you have worn?

While those questions began to fill your brain, you let your body fall on the soft carpet at the centre of your walk-in closet and browse with a desperate look through your clothes.

Better a simple but cute dress or something more casual like a cool pair of jeans with a wool sweater? What if you would have been overdressed? Or, worse, underdressed??

You were too caught in your thoughts to realise your beloved boyfriend had already arrived home and you were still there in your home clothes!

“I can’t believe it” John mumbled when his eyes saw you still standing there in your sweatpants “That’s what I meant when I said not to be a liar”

“I’m not a liar I -”

“I’m always ready for you” He mimicked the sentence you said him over the phone earlier on and you tried to hold back a laugh.

“I don’t talk like that and that’s not my fault you weren’t clear enough” You fumbled while discarding your clothes on your way to the shower.

 “I said I’d have taken you out for dinner, not that we would’ve gone to fucking Buckingham palace”

“Oh my god you’re not only a good footballer but also a funny one!”

“See? You got lucky!”

“Yeah…the luckiest…”

“Hurry up I don’t think they would be happy with having us for breakfast” You stuck your tongue out at him and threw your bra in his face.

“What am I supposed to wear??”

“Your birthday suit”

“I’m serious, John”

“I’m serious too”

“Come on! Where are we going?”

“Have you ever heard of surprises? Well, consider this as one”

“You’re not helping me”

“Whatever you choose it’ll be perfect”

“A dress with a large train??”

“That’d be perfect for Buckingham palace”

You got out of the shower and glared at him.

“What are you wearing?”

“My training kit”

“JOHN”

He giggled and cupped your face to kiss your adorable pout, the one you got when you got angry was irresistible to him, especially when he caused it.

You moved your face to avoid his kiss and your pout reflected onto his face.

“Baby please, tell me where are we going”

“It’s a surprise, whatever you choose will be okay but now let’s hurry: we should be there in half an hour” He said in a low voice as you let him kiss your wet forehead.

You sighed and tried to opt for something classy but not too over the top so you wore a black velvet mini skirt matched with a black and white striped cardigan. Black sheer tights with suede boots and a faux fur coat would have completed the look.

“Okay I’m ready” You said walking down the stairs where he was waiting for you in his gunmetal grey wool coat that you loved on him.

“You look stunning”

“You look quite good as well”

“May I kiss you or would you shout at me for messing up your makeup?”

“Kiss me, I have the lipstick in my purse to fix it”

After a sweet kiss that you had to stop before it would get too messy and too long, John drove you to the mysterious restaurant that, much to your surprise, was a new one but not the one that opened a few days ago.

“How did you know about this place?”

“Being a famous footballer has its own perks”

A smiling head waiter welcomed you and showed you inside that enchanting venue.

“This place is beautiful, I’m glad I didn’t come in my birthday suit”

“Well I wouldn’t have complained about it”

“Maybe the staff would”

“In that case no staff would have been present”

“So I should have eaten meals cooked by you? Please have mercy on me”

“You’ll have to ask for mercy later on, not now…”

You blushed and cleared your throat as a waitress got closer to take your order.

While waiting for your dishes to be served, you talked about the highlight of John’s day: his goal against Liverpool.

“It was a hell of a game and when you scored…god, it  was perfect”

“Thank you babe”

“It really was! And when you celebrated with the fans…” Your eyes got teary with emotion: it was only a few weeks ago when he said he wanted to show everyone he deserved to be at City, he worked so hard and that goal was something similar to crowning achievement.

He smiled, grateful to have someone like you in his life, always ready to support him no matter what, and held your hands across the table.

“You said that reminded you of something, what was that?”

You giggled and dried your tears with your hands before revealing to him what his goal made you think of.

“Do you remember that iconic Messi’s celebration against PSG in 2017? Like that amazing comeback in Champions League?”

“Yeah, that was huge”

“Yeah it reminded me of that”

“Well” He chuckled in an obvious state of embarrassment, clearly humbled by your reference as well as by your loving words “I’m not that iconic but thank you”

“You’re at a loss for words, huh?”

“Yeah, gotta admit I didn’t expect it…and you drive me crazy when you come up with those football references” He kissed your hand that he brought closer to his cheek and made you blush madly, as if your whole face caught on fire.

After you ate the delicious dishes you ordered, including a dark chocolate soufflé you threatened John to share with you because you couldn’t care less about his food regime that night, you suggested you should go home to rest after such a long and eventful day.

“There’s something I wanna ask you”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I think I’ll wait and do it in the car, we wouldn’t be comfortable in a public space…”

You raised your eyebrows and followed him outside the restaurant, after he paid the bill and thanked everyone for their perfect service.

“John babe what’s wrong?”

Your mind started racing as you couldn’t help but think about something tragic like him confessing to you a treason or something along that line. You started feeling dizzy and prayed to make it to the car so you could sit down and take some deep breaths.

He sighed and looked rather nervous too.

“Erm this day has been crazy to say the least and I’d like to end it the best way possible. I want to give you something more meaningful to remember, apart from my goal and the match itself…” He cleared his throat and a blue velvet box appeared in his hands. His shaky hands opened it revealing the brightest piece of jewellery you had ever seen.

“Y/N would you marry me?”

Hot tears of joy started rolling down your face and you didn’t know what to say, you only kept nodding as he had to gently take your hands away from your face to put that fine piece of jewellery that was your engagement ring on your finger.

“I take it as yes”

“Of course you silly man” You giggled before pulling him in for a passionate and messy kiss. You did expect a good night but a wedding proposal was totally inimaginable to you. The man of your dreams asking you to marry him? Mental, that couldn’t be real…

“Can we go home so I can finally see you wearing the best look from tonight?”

“That lacy underwear set you saw in the drawer the other day?”

“Was thinking more of your birthday suit but we can start with that”

#john stones #john stones fics #john stones imagines #john stones fanfiction #john stones fluff #mcfc #manchester city #manchester city imagines #manchester city fics #england nt #england nt fics #england nt imagines #premier league #premier league imagines #football fics #football imagines #football fanfictions #football writing #footie fics

[mellowswriting]

i work this weekend so i’m sending this in early but; Soap with a breeding kink 😩 he wants a huge family idc

babe. you are so right. don’t even get me started on how crazy he would be when you’re actually pregnant 😩

sinful sunday

Johnny talks about it constantly. He muses about what life would look like with a few little ones running amok; a full house, the sound of little feet stampeding through the halls, raising little warriors that look like the two of you. He doesn’t push or pressure you, of course. He’s more than willing to wait until you’re ready - but that doesn’t stop him from waxing poetic about how amazing it will be. The moment you tell him you’re ready to start trying, his brain bluescreens from the rush of different emotions. 

“Dinnae say that to me, hen.” He whispers, eyes wide. “Not unless you really mean it.” 

“Well, I stopped taking the pill and I saw my doctor.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle in his lap. He looks at you like you’re blowing his mind and giving him the entire universe all at once. His hands come to rest at your waist, his touch gentle and reverent. “Plus, both my calendar and the test I just took say I’m ovulating.” 

John blinks up at you, still buffering as he processes. “So… you really mean it?” 

“Yeah, you dork. I really mean it.” 

Your over-preparedness was a necessity because you knew for a fact that the moment you told him, he would not rest until he knocked you up. Getting everything squared away meant all that pent-up eagerness would be put to good use - and boy, does John really use it. 

It’s been at least thirty-six hours since you’ve seen anything besides the four walls of the bedroom you share with your baby fever stricken husband. You feel hot, your body wracked with trembles as his softening cock slips out of your well-fucked pussy. Fuck, you never knew it was possible to feel so empty yet so full at the same time. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, how many orgasms he’s pulled from your strung out body, how many times he’s buried himself deep and filled you with his seed. 

“There you go, that’s my girl.” Johnny sighs, honeyed reverence dripping from his lips. His big, warm palms slide up your thighs and squeeze gently, tenderly helping you come down from the rigorous way he’s worked you over. His eyes are bright with affection as he looks over you for even the slightest sign of pain or discomfort. “You look so pretty full of my cum. Gonna look even prettier with my baby in your belly.”

“Fuck, John…” The roughness of your voice makes him smile. He’s always had a thing about this - you all sweaty and fucked out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name, your body prone and trembling beneath him. John thrives on being a good husband and right now, that means knocking up his pretty little wife. His cock twitches, already half hard and nudging your thigh. You give him an incredulous look and huff out a disbelieving laugh. “How are you still hard?”

“Can ya blame me?” John’s eyes trail down your body and he shakes his head. “I mean, look at you… my gorgeous wife, all fucked full a’ me…” 

His praise sends you flush with warmth, stokes the flames of arousal in your belly. The effect he has on you is intoxicating. Your body aches with overstimulation yet John gives you that appreciative look, his eyes bright with desire, and you ache for more. His hand slips down to trace the mess he’s made of you and you concede to him, spread your thighs and welcome the pleasure-pain of his touch. 

“Just one more, hen. One more and I’ll let ya rest. Gotta make sure it takes, don’t we?” He babbles as he presses close and hooks your legs around his waist. The kiss he drags you into is messy, all spit and tongue and desperation. He drinks in the sound of your cry as he slides into your abused pussy, meeting no resistance as his cum leaks out around his cock. “ I’ll do all the work, you just lay back and let me make you feel good, yeah?  That’s it, good girl…” 

#sinful sunday #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader smut #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #john mactavish smut

[featherandferns]

6 angst but with happy ending I can't deal with sadness 🫣

6. I take it, that's not a good thing.

Sorry this took me so long to write! I hope it's sort of what you were after!

feel free to request: prompt list

The Fire - Prompt 6

Outside, on the marsh bank, crickets chatter. It’s warm inside the chateau, the way a greenhouse absorbs the light of day, and JJ relaxes against the sofa. It feels as if the group had been running endlessly these past few days, with the cross and John B’s father, and all the other shit swimming around in the background. JJ and his best friend Kie are still in the midst of a fall-out after he stole the money clip. You'd been talking to him about it, encouraging him to make peace over the matter with her. He hates when you're right about things.

His eyes flit to the bathroom door. He’s been meaning to fix it, ever since he started staying at the chateau, but it never seemed all that important. Then life got chaotic and a hit-and-miss lock became the least of his worries, when compared with surviving on an island and being chased by an insane millionaire.

From his spot on the sofa, he can only just make out the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. You’d jumped at the chance to shower, finally having a moment of peace and quiet, and nobody had argued against it. JJ had teased that you smelt bad anyway, so a shower was probably the right move. Earnt him a mirthful roll of the eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.

At the table ahead, Cleo and Pope play board games – dominoes and cards – to kill the time. JJ looks away from them, down at his hands, and plans on swallowing his pride. Kie’s been sat beside him for a moment, stuck in a mild awkward silence. Her fingers meddle with the strings of her ukulele, that has sat neglected for months.

“Hey, Kie,” he begins. “Uh, you know that whole entire money clip and dad situation?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs.

“Well, um, that wasn’t that cool and I’m kind of beating around the bush a little bit, but um, I’m…”

As he nervously looks around the room (never one to be good at apologies), JJ’s eyes catch onto the building orange glow outside the kitchen window. It’s naturally fluorescent and unnaturally familiar.

“Yeah?” she coaxes, frowning.

JJ slowly gets to his feet, trying to get a better view of it. His stomach begins to sink lower into his chest. It seems Kiara’s caught on too, getting up, abandoning the uke.

“What is that?”

The flames are licking up the walls now and JJ can faintly make out the crackling of embers.

“Um…”

“That’s a fire,” JJ breathes, realisation dawning like a meteor making impact with earth. It’s like it kicks him into action. “We gotta tell ‘em. Tell them, tell them!”

Kie darts to the bedroom where John B and Sarah were last seen as JJ hollers for Pope and Cleo. Their heads shoot up, taken by surprise, and then they’re instinctively looking to the window, to the flames. JJ turns to the bathroom door. Hammers on it. The shower’s shut off now. He calls your name, trying the handle.

“I’ll be out in a minute! Jesus!” you call back, voice light with a laugh.

“There’s a fire!” JJ shouts, rattling the handle once more.

“A fire?” You say. Then you’re rattling the handle too. Harsh and frantic. “It won’t open, JayJ!”

His stomach drops even lower somehow, like it’s sinking into the floor.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. Shoves his body weight against it, battling with the handle. He can hear the click of metal as you attempt to undo the latch, but it sounds as if it’s trapped. You’re trapped.

“What’s going on?” Pope worries, as him and Cleo are heading to the doorway.

“The fucking lock is stuck again,” JJ spits angrily, desperately battling with the door. The house is beginning to fill with smoke, slowly but surely.

“I take it, that’s not a good thing?” Cleo asks.

“Fuck no, it’s not a good thing,” JJ frustrates.

You’re banging on the door now. “JJ! It’s getting hot in here!”

“I’m trying! Try the window!” he shouts back.

There’s the ruckus of you kicking and shoving things out the way, heading for the window. Then a sharp pained screech. The latch must be hot, searing your hands. That means the fires getting closer.

“There’s smoke in here!” you cry out. The handle rattles again. “JJ! Help me!”

And he’s trying. He’s throwing himself against the door and yanking at the handle and doing anything he can. Coughs a little from the smog. Hollers for the gang to get outside, to not wait around. Hollers for you to keep calm, to keep trying the lock. Panic clouds his head the way smoke clouds his vision. All of his thoughts are focused on you and getting you out and safe. He needs you safe.

You’re coughing loudly. The handle isn’t rattling as much anymore and that only fills JJ with more dread, making his limbs feel heavy like they’re laced with lead. It’s a small bathroom with no ventilation. JJ knows it’s bad when smoke begins to slip underneath the bottom of the door.

The handle stops rattling.

He shouts your name, banging frantically on the door. But you’re not answering him anymore. Not responding. JJ’s sweat isn’t from the heat of the fire. He needs you safe.

The universe has a cruel sense of humour. The latch finally seems to loosen, JJ practically tumbling into the room as the door swings open. He catches himself, only just, to find you collapsed on the floor. You’re still. Eerily still. Gasping out your name, he lunges down, shaking at your shoulders. No, scratch that, there’s no time. He picks you up as if you’re nothing more than a scrap of tissue paper, the adrenaline the only thing keeping him standing. Coughing as he carries you out the house with him, practically dropping to the grass on his knees the moment he’s outside.

The Pogues are rushing around, frantic and concerned, but JJ’s attention is on you. You still haven’t moved. He ducks to place his ear on your chest, searching for a heartbeat through the cotton of your tee-shirt.

Still.

“She’s not breathing!” JJ hollers out. He looks to Pope, eyes so wide they gape. “Pope! She’s not breathing!”

Pope rushes over. Shoves JJ out the way and drops to his knees. Checks for a pulse, listens for a heartbeat. JJ’s falling back on his haunches, raking his fingers through his hair, crying as Pope starts CPR. He’s hyperventilating as Pope pumps his hand against your chest, fighting for a heartbeat. Pope’s counting under his breath. Sarah’s crying against John B whilst Kie stands to the side, saying a silent prayer, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Cleo hovers behind Pope.

JJ’s reeling. It’ll be the smoke. He should have gotten to you faster.

“Pope!” JJ hopelessly pleads. Sobbing through his panic.

Pope doesn’t acknowledge him. Keeps counting, keeps compressing, keeps fighting.

It’s useless. It’s pointless. It’s—

You gasp out a breath.

Relief has never felt so visceral before, to JJ.

Coughing, spluttering, eyes struggling open, you slowly come around. Pope removes his hands from you, moving to help you ease up until you’re sitting. JJ rubs at your back, helping you hack up the soot in your body.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that to me,” he hisses, pulling you against his side. Presses kisses into your hairline.

“Had you all going, huh?” you weakly joke.

If any of the gang laughs, it’s the adrenaline leaking out of them. The relief of having not lost you. JJ doesn’t laugh though. Keeps hugging you, tears still silently falling. That was too real. Too close.

“Don’t do that to me again,” is all he repeats quietly.

You hug him back, as best you can in your state, and JJ swears it’s the best hug you’ve ever given him.

“I won’t,” you rasp. Your voice sounds like it’s been attacked with sandpaper. “I won’t.”

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fic #outerbanks #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj drabbles #jj maybank drabble #drabbles #drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #6 #prompts

[mordaciousmurderer]

How Captain John Price would react to gn!reader getting injured

Captain John Price x reader

pt.2 of my reader getting injured series. idk how i feel about this one i’ve just been in a writing block and i gotta get something out there. As always, asks are open for requests.

cw/ swearing, y’all shoot someone, gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N

The click of a suppressed sniper riffle made its way through your ears and you watched your target fall through your scope. “Good hit.” Price commended you, his voice coming from right next to you. The two of you laid stomach down on the edge of a small overpass. The goal was to take down any guards then infiltrate a weapons cache. You studied the perimeter of the building before locating two soldiers. “Two on the watch tower.” You report to your Captain.

“I got the one on the left. Two notches, on me.” He grumbles, the two of you lining your crosshairs up with their heads. “Roger.” You return. It’s silent for a few moments before he tells you to shoot. The two guards colapse in an almost comical manner. “Good kill.” He says, lowering his rifle and watching as you mirror him. “Rappel down to reposition. We gotta be able to take some out with one shot.” He orders you, pointing at the railing of the overpass as to imply you can hook up there. “Yes sir. You comin’ with me?” you ask as you hook the rope to the railing and securing yourself.

“Of course. Can’t leave you on your own down there.” He gives his signature smile, hooking up to the railing himself. You watch as he hops over and begins descending towards the ground. You follow and let the rope take over your weight. Instantly, you realize something isn’t right. You slid down just far enough that the base of the overpass was out of reach, but the ground was miserably far away. The rope came to a sudden halt, yanking your lower body aggressively with a sickening snap. The full weight of your body forcing your joints in an unnatural way. You yelp out in pain, a deep and dull pain emanating from your pelvis. Something was off.

“Sergeant? Everything good?” Price calls up to you, his feet landing on the ground with a thud. The straps of your harness dug into your skin as you dangled from the rope in pure agony. “Damn harness is caught on nothing. My hip nearly feels like it’s outta place-“ You call back, desperately futzing with your harness and the rope in an effort to continue sliding down with no luck. “Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Price cusses, the gears in his head quickly turning so he can get you to safety. “I think I gotta cut myself down.” You hiss out and reach for the combat knife holstered on your thigh.

Price makes an unidentifiable sound of disapproval. “Keep yer head straight! Ima try and grab you.” He growls, hooking back up to his rope and starts pulling himself up it. He had to channel a scary amount of upper body strength, gravity working against him. You watched wide-eyed as he muscled his way up the rope and before you knew it, he was level with you. He reached out his hand and you grabbed it, pulling yourself to him and closing the distance between you.

“Alright Sergeant hold on tight. Once you get a good grip on me, cut your rope.” He explains, looking at you with that glimmer of determination in his hooded eyes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around him as tight as possible and try to wrap your legs as well but pain stops you. You can’t help but moan out after the attempt, clenching your eyes shut tight and burrowing your face on the strap of his vest.

“You’re gonna be just fine love. Just focus on holding tight.” His gruff voice has an unusually soft tone and a gaze to match. You pick your head back up and stare intently back at him. He gives a nod of encouragement and you wrap your good leg around his body. With the right timing, you’re able to slice through your rope and Price wraps one of his arms around your waist tightly and lowers the two of you to the ground.

When your injured leg hits the ground you wince and lean against Price for some support. “Son of a crack smokin’ whore-” You mutter, draping your arms over your face. This was a new and grating form of pain. “Christ, is that language really necessary?” He chuckles and his hands settle on your shoulders in an odd manner of comfort and attempting to hold you upright. “Is something broken?” He questions, one of his hands planting firmly on your afflicted hip. Still clinging onto him, you allow a slight amount of weight to shift to the injured side, pleasantly surprised when the pain only worsens slightly.

“No clue. I think… I think I can walk.” You proclaim and attempt to take a step closer to Price. The step is really more of an awkward hobble than a true step. Out of instinct, Price’s other arm wraps around your upper back. “You sure kid?” He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he was most definitely worried. He found himself prioritizing your well being over the mission, ready to turn around and go back to base in an instant.

You nod finally break eye contact from the ground to look up at the taller man, his sweet eyes sparkling from underneath his hat. Mere inches from each other, you watch the way his eyes squint as he smiles at you. “Take your time. I’m here with you until you’re ready to advance.” He consoles you and helps you sit down, plopping down right next to you.

Masterlist

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod #mw2 #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #john price

[octopiys]

Can I request Graves x Price with some hurt comfort (the betrayal didn’t happen), Graves betrayed Shepherd and lost a lot of men and goes to Price for comfort. Have a lovely time zone friend!

🪶

I GOTCHU

I've never written pricegraves before this was fun :D hope you're having an awesome time zone!

Pairing: Captain John Price x Commander Philip Graves

Word count: 2.8k+

CW: Blood, violence, implied death, Shepherd

I Know It

Las Almas was cold. Was it the rain? No, he didn't feel that, sliding down his skin, unaffected. It wasn't the wind. He could hear it outside the windows that wouldn't close.

Shepherd's call had ended, his laptop sitting discarded on the bed next to him. They were supposed to secure Sin Nombre, get the missiles back, and keep their heads down. Not any of this.

The General's warnings echoed in his mind, seeping any warmth from his soul. He didn't have a choice.

"They're getting too close to the problem, Philip. You need to lock it down." He had said.

"You can't expect them to not ask questions, General!" He snapped. "You know that we'd never be that lucky, someone was bound to catch on. No off-book op ever stays hidden, you know that!"

"I don't think you understand what we're dealing with here. What I'm dealing with. This is the immediate future, Commander, I need you to shut it down and take care of it."

Philip stopped dead in his tracks. Take care of it.

Take care of it.

"You ain't asking me to-"

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. That's an order." Something in his voice told him everything he needed to do, and that he had no choice. "I'm sending you reinforcements. Make sure you have it managed, Philip." It was them, or it was him.

How could he possibly kill them? All of them? Soap, Gaz, Laswell, the Lieutenant, the Vaqueros.... Even-

No. That was his final straw, he wouldn't. That's against everything he ever fought for, everything he opposed. He thought when he enlisted he knew what war he was fighting in.

He was wrong.

His mind started running a mile a minute. What could he do? He could run, leave it all behind, vanish off the face of the earth, and hope his Shadows could do the same. Hope that the task force made it out alive too. But that was cowardly.

Philip Graves was not cowardly.

The Task Force hadn't even returned from the oil rig yet. That gave him time.

He was speaking into his radio before he had even realized his shaking hands had picked it up.

"All Shadows Stations report to Point Tango, urgently. We've gotta bit of a change in plans."

The radio stations flicked ominous static throughout the emptiness of Price's truck. Vargas' base sat in front of him, but something told him not to enter just yet. He'd watched a transport van enter, but not one big enough to hold his team. Laswell had sent them here immediately following them finishing up in Europe. The sun had fallen, casting dusted shadows across the landscape. Where were his boys?

Gaz groaned into the seat next to him. "Cap, what are you even waiting on? We've been here a few hours, can't we even go on? I gotta piss, and-"

"That's it. There." He lowered his binoculars, following three other vans up the hill and pointed. Gaz perked up in his seat, following the convo with his eyes. He saw Graves standing near the entrance gate, he saw him stop the convo before he entered. The Lieutenant and his Sergeant got out. There was a load pop and he ducked before Graves grabbed Soap by the shoulder and shoved him out of view.

"What's....?"

The static sharpened for only a moment, letting a desperate shout echo across the station.

"RUN!"

Philip tried to be discreet. He really did. But the General had eyes and ears everywhere, and he could only do or say so much before the chain around his throat was pulling him back to his place. They called him Golden Eagle for a reason.

He ran through the halls like a madman, he had no time to lose. They wouldn't give him a choice when the reinforcements arrived, he had to get everyone out without Shepherd finding out.

Could he?

No, he had to.

"Sergeant Parra!" He skidded to a stop outside the office door, trying the handle. Locked. "Sergeant Major! Rodolfo!!"

"Que pasa!?" Rodolfo pulled open the door, a concerned look on his face. "Commander, what's-"

"We need to go! They're- they're-" His chest ached with his heaving breaths. He felt like he was going to throw up. "You need to get your men out of here, Shepherd's sending enforcements to take out the Vaqueros and the 141. We're all done for if we don't leave now."

The Sergeant Major looked like he was going to object before seeing the desperation in his face and believed him, a hard resolve settling over his expression. He handed Graves a slip of paper, and he hurriedly pocketed it. "RV there. Good luck, Graves."

The two turned away, but Rodolfo stopped. "Graves!" The shout turned him around in a panic. "Gracias, hermano!"

He nodded his head, and he was running again.

That's how he had ended up in the courtyard, surrounded by men who he did not recognize.

"Scuse me, soldier-" He tried moving off past them, but one blocked his path to the main hall.

"Are you Philip Graves?" The taller man asked. His voice was gruff, smoky, but distinctly American. What was worse was the beared that he could see that looked almost blood colored in the setting sun.

Graves swallowed, trying to keep his composure. "I am. And I have somethin' I needa attend to-" He tried to push past him again, but a needless hand shoved him back.

"Graves, I see you've met Colonel Tobias Wilkinson. He'll be... assisting you." Said a voice in his ear that nearly froze him to the spot. The General. Of course.

He knew he'd never be lucky enough to set his plan in motion. The other half of the base lay in unknowing wait of a slaughter. Wilkinson put a forceful arm around him, spinning him around, and pushing him towards the doors. Towards the main gate.

This was no suggestion.

"I see you're going the wrong way, Commander. You get lost?" Wilkinson sneered close to his ear.

This was a command.

The new troops not-so-kindly escorted him to the front door. He did not dare glance over his shoulder at whatever Vaquero had dared to ask the men who they were.

He didn't think this was a kidnapping, but a little voice in his mind told him to never get in a vehicle, because they can take you to a secondary location. You'd never be found then.

If Shepherd knew what he was doing, then he hoped someone good would find him.

He got in the car.

Colonel Wilkinson drove down to the entry gate, began barking orders in such jumbled Spanish that even he noticed. The gates slid closed.

A pit formed in his stomach. This was it now.

The men pulled masks over their faces, they looked like his Shadows. His mouth dried as headlights appeared over the hill. He had no way of telling them. He could only pray at this point that something would interfere.

Hatred burned the pit deeper into his stomach as he watched Wilkinson smile before pulling his mask up. Something tasted foul in his mouth, coppery, and with a muted shock he realized he had bitten down hard enough on his cheek that his teeth drew blood.

Three cars rolled to a stop in front of him, the windshields tinted just enough so that he could barely see inside.

"The immediate future." Wilkinson said lowly, twitched towards his weapon warily as two doors opened.

The pretend Shadows filtered through the area as Soap and Ghost spilled out of their cars. Alejandro stepped out, he was closer, and Graves wiped his face of any emotion.

"Graves, que es-"

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilkinson raised his weapon, and Graves acted without a thought.

He wasn't sure when his gun was in his hands, but he aimed for Wilkinson first. Shots rang out between he and the other side, and he turned a split second, shoving Soap out of the way. Part of him felt smug at the shocked expression on Wilkinson's face as he went down.

His radio was on, and he screamed to both the Task Force, his Shadows, the Vaqueros, and anyone else who could hear him. "Run!"

Thankfully, the others had regained their wits, and Soap tried his best to help by firing off a few rounds before Ghost dragged him off into the darkness. Alejandro had taken cover behind one of the armored vehicles and was doing his best to take out the threats as they spilled from his base.

There was a tinny voice from his radio, but that was muffled by blood roaring in his ears.

With Wilkinson went the chain that snapped, the constriction that Shepherd had held him on, and he knew that this was the right decision.

His breathing came choked but he was still going, firing each bullet at his faux masked counterpart.

He wasn't sure when he ended up on the ground, but someone was pulling him up by the back of the vest.

The leash.

The chain.

"No-!" He shouted, trying to fight against the ghosts of a hand, before coming into contact with a tactical vest.

"Graves, we have to go!" Soap shouted at him, searching his eyes in a panic. "We don't have time ta keep at it like this!"

"No! We've- my men are- I have to-" He felt like he couldn't breathe. He wouldn't let this happen again, he couldn't let this happen again, not again, not-

"Graves!" Soap shook him slightly, snapping out of it. He cast a glance back at the base. There were.... too many.

"C'mon! I have a place we can go, esos putos bastardos!" Alejandro cussed angrily, gesturing them. It seemed like he too had an issue with leaving, but knew it was no good cause in staying.

With shaking hands, Graves pulled a bloodied slip of paper from his pocket. "Sergeant Parra- he gave me this.. that's where he said to go." He offered.

Alejandro gave him a grave look, before turning away. "Follow me."

And they did, trying their best to stay unaffected by the shouts and the gunfire from the Vaqueros' fallen base.

At one point, Graves' radio fell silent. He had stopped dead in his tracks when it had, trying to recover his brave face, but nothing could mask the way he paled considerably.

"Shadow Stations, report."

Static.

"I repeat, all Shadow Stations, report."

The silence was unbearable, and they pushed on.

The thoughts pushed inward. He failed. He failed them. He failed to stop them. How many men could he have lost? They were his brothers. He trained them himself. They were better than he was. Why should he-

They arrived at the safehouse, a large, barn looking thing. Alejandro surged inside, quickly followed by Graves, then Ghost and Soap. A few people were already inside. Hope bloomed in his heart as he spotted a few Shadows, and Vargas sped off to find Parra.

"Sergeant!" Graves spoke, his voice almost hoarse, and one of the Shadows perked up hopefully. The younger man was getting his side patched by a Vaquero. Bullet wound, he could tell. This was Shadow 2-3, but his name was Sergeant Connor Saury.

"Yes Commander!" His voice carried across the vast space, and the man turned a few shades of red in embarrassment. "Sorry-"

"How many of you-" Graves did a quick head count of all he could see. Five was his most, but maybe there were others in the other rooms, or still outside. "Made it here?"

Saury's face fell. "Uh- I'm not sure how to tell you, sir, but-"

"Spit it out, Connor."

"Yes- yes sir. Most of them stayed to- well- they weren't gonna let them take us so easily, sir, and a lot stayed behind. They thought the General's men got you, and-"

He raised a hand, and the sergeant stopped, looking down to the floor. "Connor... Where's everyone else?"

He didn't answer.

"Conn-"

"It's just us, sir." He whispered, and Graves felt like he was gonna throw up. There was- no, this couldn't be happening again... "Are... are you bleeding, Graves-?"

"Philip, you with us lad?" He heard Soap say.

His radio was still silent. He doubted it would make sound again. Had anyone else gotten out? What happened to the rest of the Vaqueros?

He was walking. Someone stopped him. He kept walking.

"-just shut down. Hasn't responded to a thing we've said." Someone else, Ghost said, before a light was shined into his eyes. He felt like he was feeling everything underwater. Slow, sluggish, dreamlike.

The only difference between then and now was that there was no missiles gone missing. They... were still gone, though.

A twinge in his shoulder. He felt himself wince. Doctor.

The oily texture told him there was blood on his hands, literally and figuratively.

"The Captain's arrived. Should we tell 'im?" A ghost of a whisper kissed his hearing at some point.

"....Laswell's doing some digging...."

The air morphed and pinpointed around him, the fog around his brain cleared in a split second.

"Where is he?" Philip asked. His tongue felt heavy, his lips dry. How long had they been here?

"Back with us, Graves?" Ghost's gruff voice asked him, somewhere in the dark of the room behind him. He ignored him.

"Where's the captain?" He repeated himself, and Soap pursed his lips.

"Doon th' hall. Second door on th' left."

Less than a minute later, Graves stood outside the given door, hand poised to knock.

But it opened before he had the chance.

Price was running a hand over his face tiredly, having apparently not seen him, but then he looked up, and Graves felt his shoulders fall slack.

"...Phil-?"

"John-" He breathed, and practically threw himself into the man's arms. Price backed up, holding him tightly, and kicked the door shut.

"Hey, hey, what- what's wrong?" He felt the Captain wince at the question, realizing how stupid it sounded. "Take a breath, love, breathe..."

"They're gone, they- they thought- I should've- John, I f-fucked up, it's my fault- John, I failed them, I failed-" His voice broke, and he unwillingly sobbed into the man's shirt.

"No, no, hold on, you didn't fail them, Phil..." He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his forehead, rubbing his hand through Graves' hair. He was shaking horribly as he sobbed, fists balling the hem of Price's shirt. "C'mere, let's sit down now."

Price's voice stayed gentle, a soothing quiet, guiding him to the edge of the bed in the room. He couldn't stop the cries that ripped their way through his chest, clawing like a beast freed from eternal punishment. Soft hands guided their way up and down his figure, comforting, hovering over his shoulder. Graves hissed a breath as a sharp sting shot down to his elbow. "Pip, are you injured...?"

He didn't know how to respond. Had he been injured? That would explain the doctor he thinks he saw before, and the constant stinging ache. Had it been bandaged? Maybe, but he thinks he had left before the Vaquero could finish. So instead, he hummed in defeat, hiding his shameful face in the Captain's shoulder. Like a child who believed that if he could not see his mother, then she could not see him, he believed that if he hid closer, Price would not be able to see the sin written into the very being of him, the total failure that he was.

"Hey, breathe, look at me. You need to breathe, love, you need to, or you'll make this all worse. In and out..." He was rocking him softly, back and forth.

He tried. In- in and out, in- "John, th-they're dead-"

"I know, shh.... You're alright, you are..."

"They're dead because of me, I f-failed-"

Price took his face in his hands suddenly, forceful, but still calm, shocking a part of him from his stupor. "You didn't fail them, Philip, none of that now. We're all alive because of you." Price said, and Graves hesitantly opened his eyes, peering at the man above him. Instead of finding a cold look of betrayal or disgust, John's face was nothing but concern written softly into the lines of his face. He took a breath. "Because of you, everyone in this building is here. The others..." Price hesitated, but wanted the man to have some hope. "They might be on their way. Some of them, at least. Takes a while to get here, if you don't know where you're goin'." The ghost of a laugh whispered its way through the room, lightening the darker part of his thoughts.

A watery look crossed his tear-stained face, but a bit of spark flashed in his eyes. "You- y'think-?"

"Aye, I know it." Price nodded, pressing his nose into Graves' sandy mop of hair. "I know it."

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #john price #price x graves #pricegraves #phillip graves #commander graves #🪶 anon #🪶

[spiteful-crow]

Okay, I finished Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened yesterday and I have so many (unstructured) thoughts and feelings, and I just want to get them out of my system.

It all happens at once for me because I also finished Chapter One a few days ago, and it already affected me a lot, so I didn’t even have the time to digest CO before jumping into TA and now I have to somehow digest BOTH games at once. So this post is about both games, basically me venting and getting it all out.

!!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

First and foremost, I just want to say, Jon! Oh, Jon! I was kinda sceptical at the beginning of Chapter One, I hadn’t read spoilers and didn’t know Jon was supposed to be imaginary, and having someone this close to Sherlock really surprised me, because the Holmes I knew was basically a machine. Sure, he cared about Watson, but weakness? I don’t know her. Also, I was absolutely certain Jon and Sherlock had more than just friendship going, cuz sharing a room? 👀

It took me some time to warm up to Jon, but once I did there was no going back. And I can’t believe we had to say goodbye to this sweetheart 😭 all these scenes of Sherry breaking down, Jon being scared as Sherry regained more and more memories, Jon telling Sherry he loves him. The main story was painful. I can’t describe it any other way. And yes, Jon wasn’t real, but that made it hurt even more. Because Jon was still the person Sherry desperately needed in his life, but this person simply did not exist. How lonely must have Sherlock been to create a whole, fleshed out imaginary person to love him and be there for him? How neglected must he have been? I absolutely do not blame Violet, the poor woman suffered so much, but it’s still a fact that after his father’s death, Sherlock became a neglected child. This Sherlock isn’t the Sherlock I know from the ACD canon, he isn’t the Sherlock from the older games. But he is a Sherlock I grew to love so much, with all his issues and his pride and his struggles. He is so flawed and human, and he is hurting so much. Oh, I was so unwell after Chapter One, and tbh I still haven’t decided which ending to accept as my personal true ending, because 3 out of 4 are absolutely devastating in their own way.

And then there was Watson. The single silent tear of Sherry when he heard Watson‘s voice for the first time - no words.

Again, after saying goodbye to Jon, I was yet again having a hard time warming up to a new (old) character. And yet again, I grew to looooove him!

Just how amazing is this John? And yes, I enjoy the original John Watson a lot, but I gotta say I like this one even more. He isn’t dumbed down to make Holmes seem like the only smart person in the room. This John and this Sherry are equal! And man, John has teeth! He can bite! He is so fierce yet so kind, I love him!

The Awakened left me speechless after finishing it. The second half of the game was intense and very emotional. There was no chill second, and again, as the plot progressed, Sherry broke down more and more, and I’m not gonna lie, that’s what I was there for. He may have died a few times on my watch, not on purpose of course, but I realised enjoy this fragile Holmes a lot more than I imagined I would. His struggles make you care for him on a personal level, not in the way you care for the ACD!Holmes.

The ending… again, all the love goes to John Watson! I think we can all conclude he is exactly the person Sherry needs in his life.

Also a side note: Mycroft honey, I know what went down with your whole family wasn’t easy on you either. And while your communication skills suck, I know that you care for your baby brother a lot ❤️ just take a step back maybe, because you aren’t showing your love in a positive way! I appreciate you tho!

#sherlock holmes chapter one #sherlock holmes the awakened #i think i need to check out some fics because i don’t know what to do with myself rn

[bored-writer101]

Sam Winchester X Reader|Supernatural Rewrite|1.Pilot

A/N: well, the time has finally come. i’m finally posting my supernatural rewrite😂 huge shoutout to @uncouth-the-fifth for inspiring me (she also has a supernatural rewrite that is absolutely phenomenal that you guys should definitely go check out). i’ve been trying to start a rewrite basically ever since i started writing fanfic for this show, but it has never worked out. but i’ve finally figured it out! (kinda lol, i’m doing my best😂😭). i hope you all enjoy! (i wrote this with female reader in mind but i use gender neutral pronouns) {also here’s a supernatural themed spotify playlist if y’all want a soundtrack while you listen <3}

Words: 13,673

Series Masterlist

(image from pinterest)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA | October 31st, 2005

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted upright in bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You didn't get much of a chance to do that though. Your phone began to ring loudly from your bedside table, making you flinch. You reached out and fumbled around in the darkness for a few seconds before your fingers wrapped around the cold metal. You used your thumb to flip it open and held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you could hear the shake in your own voice.

"Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?" you immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"I'm alright, Dean. I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"The usual one?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response.

"Well, we can do all our usual remedies after I pick you up," you could hear in his voice that he had a huge grin on his face.

"What? I thought you were in New Orleans?"

"I was. I had been waitin' on my dad, but he never showed. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a few weeks," Dean told you.

"So? There were plenty of times that we weren't able to get a hold of him on a hunt when we were kids," you said, skeptical that John was truly missing.

John had always been one to drink a few too many in celebration of a hunt well done. You, Sam, and Dean would think something terrible had happened to him, but he would eventually stumble back in a few weeks later. The longest he had left the three of you alone was almost three months. Bobby stopped letting John take you on hunts after he found out about that.

"This is different. Somethin's happened, somethin' bad, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

"Are you sure he's not just out on another bender?" you asked, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm sure, Y/N. I can explain more after I pick you up. Please, I need you to trust me on this," Dean pleaded through the phone.

You were hesitant to say yes. Usually you'd hop at the chance to go on a hunt with Dean, but this was different. You could hear in his voice that Dean believed that John was missing, and that he was worried. You trusted Dean, but you didn't trust his father. It could be another one of his 'hunter trials' to test if you were worthy to be hunters. He hadn't orchestrated one of those in a long time, but maybe that meant you were due for another one.

"Y/N? You still there?" Dean asked when you didn't respond.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still here. Just thinkin'."

"Ya' really gotta think that hard about it?"

There was another moment of silence while you desperately tried and failed to find the words. You had so many thoughts swirling in your mind that you didn't even know where to start. Before you could complain that you had just woken up, Dean's voice was in your ear again.

"Come on, Y/N," he was not helping you think.

"Fine! I'll come with you," you relented, giving in to the sad puppy dog eyes you couldn't see, but you knew he was doing.

"Well, good... Because I'm only an hour and a half away," you heard him chuckle, and you decided you were going to smack him upside the head when he got here.

"And what were you gonna do if I said no?" you questioned.

"Kidnap you. Obviously."

"Like I'd let you."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said with a chuckle. "Just be packed and ready, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you mocked him playfully, "See you when you get here."

"See you when I get there," he said, ignoring your teasing.

You heard the click of the call ending, then silence. You were frozen in place at first, and the memories of your nightmare came flooding back; your father's eyes closing and never opening again... You shook your head free of the image before finally dropping your hand holding the phone into your lap. The light from the still open screen hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust to the sudden light. You sat there for a few more seconds before pushing the covers off and forcing yourself out of bed. You got dressed in comfy clothes, knowing that you'd be spending a lot of time curled up in the passenger seat of the impala.

You tried to be quiet as you crept around the house, but you should have known better than to try and sneak around a hunter's home. You were leaned down in front of the open fridge, thinking of what to write on the 'see you later' note you were going to leave behind, when you heard someone clear their throat. You stood up straight and spun around quickly to face them. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a deep frown, and furrowed brows that made the creases in his forehead all too prominent.

"Good morning?" you said hesitantly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked; he had never been one for nuance.

"Um, out on a hunt," you told him with a little more confidence than before.

Even though you were twenty three, Bobby's gaze made you feel like you were sixteen again. It made you feel as if you were sneaking out to meet Sam and Dean for a late night joyride in whatever rust bucket that Dean had found(hot wired). You knew Bobby wasn't going to stop you from going, but you still didn't want to piss him off before you left. You weren't sure when you'd be back.

"Dean picking you up?" he asked, his tone a bit softer than before, but he was still frowning.

You nodded at his question, "he should be here soon."

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll be careful. And that you won't let Dean talk you into anything stupid," Bobby wagged his pointer finger at you as he said this.

"I'm always careful," you told him, even if that wasn't entirely truthful, but you'd say anything to reassure Bobby you'd be alright; the last thing you wanted him to do was worry his head off, "also I'm usually the one talking Dean out of doing anything stupid," this statement had a little more truth to it.

Bobby didn't look convinced. Not that he ever did, but you didn't want to leave him annoyed with you. You took a couple steps forward and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden hug. It didn't take long before Bobby hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

"I love you, dad. I'll be back before you know it."

Bobby sighed deeply, "I love you too, kiddo," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Bobby wasn't your biological father, but he had stepped up and been your dad for over a decade. Any other day, he would have scolded you for calling him dad. He would tell you it isn't fair to your father, that you shouldn't try to forget or replace him. You always reassured him you would never forget though. What you don't tell him is that you'll never be able to forget the image of father dying in your arms as you beg for him to keep his eyes open. Before you could dwell on the dark memory for too long, you heard a short honk of a car horn outside. You pulled away and stood up straight in front of Bobby, raising a brow at him as if to silently ask, 'you gonna be alright?'

"Just go. Don't forget to call every once in a while so I know you're still alive" Bobby gestured toward the door.

"I will," you said as you walked to the front door, picking your duffel bag up off the floor, "bye, Bobby," you turned and waved to him with a smile, opting to not call him dad this time.

"Bye, Y/N," he waved back halfheartedly.

You turned back and headed out the front door, a rush of cold air biting at your exposed skin. If you were gone long enough, there would surely be a thick blanket of snow covering the junk yard by the time you got back. You noticed the impala in the driveway before looking up at the sky. You shut the door behind you as you admired the fiery shades of red and orange that were painted across the sky by the sunrise. You admired it for a moment before stepping down the porch steps. The gravel crunched under your boots as you walked over to the passenger side of the impala. You opened the back door and threw duffel bag in before getting into the passenger seat.

"Morning," you said to Dean once you had plopped down.

"Mornin'," he replied, wasting no time in pulling out of the driveway and back onto the road, gravel crunching loudly under the tires all the while, "I brought you some breakfast," he pointed to the fast food bag sitting on the seat next to you.

"Thanks," you mumbled as you grabbed the bag and pulled out the breakfast sandwich Dean had ordered for you.

You unwrapped your food and ate silently, the only sound coming from the Bob Seger tape that was playing softly through the speakers. You recognized the song to be Against The Wind. You thought back to the last time you saw Dean, and you realized it had been a few months. You kept in touch over the phone the best you could, but he had never been good at that, and you weren't much better. The last time you had seen him was about four months ago. You had gotten into a fight over John. Most of your fights revolved around him. It had been a simple misunderstanding during a hunt that made John flip his shit, and you were never one to take shit from him. Dean had barely made a move to defend you, and it hurt. He had apologized to you later, but it had been a Winchester style apology; a halfhearted one. You couldn't help but remember that fight now. Dean cleared his throat loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel has he hummed along to the music. You crumpled up the sandwich paper and threw it in the bag.

"So, we have a few stops to make," he told you with a grin, obviously trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, raising a questioning brow at him.

"Yeah, the first being a gas station. You can pick out some snacks for our drive."

"Good, because you always grab barbecue chips," you complained teasingly.

"What's wrong with a little BBQ?" he said, enunciating each letter in 'BBQ.'

"There's nothing necessarily wrong with barbecue, but eating them for every road trip can get a little boring."

"Fair enough. You still have to grab me a bag of them though."

"Yeah, will do."

Dean pulled off the main road and into the gas station parking lot. He pulled up to a gas pump and turned off the engine. He took out a few fives from his wallet and handed them to you. You said a quiet 'thanks' before you both climbed out of the impala.

"Don't forget my BBQ!" Dean called after you as you headed into the convenience store while he went to the gas pump.

It was only a few minutes before the two of you were back in your seats. You handed Dean his barbecue chips and a root beer before dropping your own snacks in your lap. Dean tore into his chips like a hungry bear, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh at him as you opened your own snack.

"So, you gonna tell me why you think John is missing?" you asked, once he had chewed and swallowed.

"I know he's missing. He was hunting something that was killing men, and he left me a concerning voicemail that had some EVP," he explained, "I can let you listen to it when we get to our next destination," you furrowed your brows at his words, but you had a sudden realization.

"You wanna pick up Sam," you said simply.

Dean looked over at you with wide eyes, "how'd you know? You read my mind or somethin'?"

"We're gonna be in California, and we're gonna pass his place anyway. Just an educated guess," you shrugged, "also I'm not a mind reader, I'm a medium," you added.

"It's all the same to me," Dean said with a shrug as he started the impala and pulled out of the gas station; you decided not to lecture him on the differences between psychics and mediums.

"What if he says no?" you asked the question on both your minds after a few moments of silence.

Dean didn't respond, but you knew he had heard you. You looked over to see him expressionless, staring out at the open road.

"Dean?"

"You sure you're not a mind reader?" he tried to joke to change the subject, but you didn't laugh, and he frowned at your furrowed brows, "he won't. Dad's missing and we need his help. He has to say yes," you wondered how many time he had told himself that.

You were at an impasse, which frequently happened when you had to get in the middle of Winchester family drama. A part of you didn't want Sam to say yes. You knew he wanted to give up hunting for good, and you didn't blame him. You only wanted what was best for him, but there was another part of you that wanted him to say yes. You missed him every day. You tried to tell yourself you weren't pulling him all the way back into hunting, that you were just looking for John. A small voice in the back of your head knew better though. You knew this life loved to sink its claws in and never let go. Only a lucky few were able to fully detach themselves from the hunting lifestyle. Even then, it was impossible to scrub the stain of the hunting life off your hands. You weren't sure which answer you wanted Sam to give.

You and Dean sat in silence for awhile, both caught up in your own thoughts. You glanced over at Dean as the song that was playing came to an end. You took in Dean's tense posture, and how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You recognized the beginning of Black Dog by Led Zeppelin playing quietly through the speakers, and you immediately reached out to turn it up. You were the only person Dean allowed to touch his radio. You rested your arm on the back of the seat and leaned your body into his side slightly.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move. Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove," you sang along loudly into his ear.

You played the air guitar and you saw Dean glance at you from the corner of his eye. You could see him trying to hide his smirk.

"Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thang. Gonna make you burn gonna make you sting," you continued to sing along, gently nudging Dean's side with your elbow.

You saw him start to drum his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat as you continued to play air guitar.

"Hey hey baby when you walk that way. Watch your honey drip, can't keep away," you and Dean sang in unison.

You sang along to the rest of the song together. You occasionally played air guitar while Dean pretended to play the drums; you had to remind him to put his hands back on the wheel a few times. The song eventually came to an end, and the next song began playing. Dean reached out and turned it down slightly.

"I missed that," you said with a smile.

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me now," he said with a groan.

"What? No 'chick flick moments'?" you said sarcastically, making air quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. No chick flick moments," Dean repeated seriously.

"Whatever you say... Jackass," you said quietly with a smirk.

"Shithead," Dean was quick with his comeback, and he reached over to pinch your side, but you quickly swatted his hand away while laughing.

There wasn't much tension between you to begin with, but the little bit that had been there faded away with the end of the song. The rest of the long ride was filled with boring games of eye spy and spotting out of state license plates. You were glad to be in the impala with Dean again. You wished it was under better circumstances, but you were excited to see Sam again too.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

The sun had long since set by the time you arrived at Sam's apartment building. You had your window rolled down, the humid California night air made your exposed skin feel sticky, but you enjoyed the breeze. Dean pulled into the parking lot and parked up close to the front door of the building. You both unbuckled your seatbelts, but he put his hand out to stop you from opening your door.

"I'll go get him," he said with a mischievous grin on his face, so you nodded and sat back in your seat, "I'll be quick," he said before hopping out of the impala.

You watched Dean creep up to the front door of the building before he slinked inside and out of view. You leaned out of your open window to take in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't a great time to be alone with your thoughts, since all you could think about was that you were seeing Sam again after two years. You had kept in touch over the phone, but it wasn't the same as meeting up in person. Living almost across the country from each made it hard to hang out. At least that's what you told yourself. Sam had asked you to come visit a few months ago, but you had declined. You didn't think you'd be able to face him alone.

You didn't have to be left alone for long though. Before you knew it, you could hear the distant sounds of the brothers bickering. You knew those sounds all too well. You could hear them arguing about something, but you couldn't make you any words. You were about to yell at them to come out when the door finally opened. Dean came out first, Sam following close behind. Sam was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke, and Dean rolled his eyes. You opened the door and stepped out of the impala, causing both of them to turn and look at you.

"Y/N?" Sam uttered the moment he saw you.

You smiled wide as you shut the passenger door and started walking towards him. It only took Sam a few strides to meet you in the middle with open arms. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight and almost lifting you up off the ground. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him back just as tight, cherishing your first hug after two years apart.

"It's so good to see you," Sam said before pulling away; his smile was gentle and sweet, and you forgot how much you had missed those dimples of his.

"I didn't get a hug when I picked you up," you heard Dean mumble from behind you.

You turned away from Sam to face him. He was stood there pouting slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. You shook your head with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry Dean. Did you want a hug? I can give you one too," you said a bit teasingly, but only because no matter what answer he gave, you were hugging him.

"No, it's fine-" you had your arms wrapped around his middle before he could finish speaking.

You hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms loosely around you. He gave you a quick squeeze before patting you softly on the back. You pulled away and he shook his head at you with a small smile before turning towards the trunk.

"Anyway," he mumbled before popping the trunk and lifting the spare tire hatch inside to reveal all his hunting equipment, "where the hell did I put that thing?" he said to himself as he rummaged around the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he leaned against the side of the impala to watch Dean rifle through the disorganized mess.

"I was workin' my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans" Dean replied without looking up.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"I'm 26, dude," Dean deadpanned, and you laughed.

Sam looked over at you with raised brows, which made you laugh even harder, "shut up, both o' ya's. Alright, found it," Dean picked up a small manila folder and pulled a small stack of papers out.

"Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" Dean handed Sam a piece of paper off the top of the stack; Sam took it and held it out for both of you to see, "they found his car but he'd vanished; completely M.I.A.," there was a photo of a middle aged man next to an article about his disappearance.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested.

"Kidnapped by a ghost maybe," you joked as you nudged Sam with your elbow.

"Yeah, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92," Dean slid a paper off the stack for each year he said, "ten of 'em over the past twenty years," he reached out and snatched the paper from Sam's hand, throwing it back on the stack, "all men, all same 5 mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean reached out and grabbed a tape recorder from off the top of the mess. He pressed play and you could hear John's voice come through the speaker, but it was staticky and garbled.

"Dean.... something-starting to happen...-think it's serious... I need t-... figure out what's going on... Be very careful, Dean.... We're all in danger...," a chill went up your spine as you listened to the message.

"You know there's EVP on that?," Sam said the moment Dean pressed pause.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean said with an amused smirk, and Sam only shook his head at him.

You couldn't focus on their banter, because you knew what was coming next. You stared expectantly down at the tape recorder in Dean's hand. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral.

"You think you'll be able to get anything from a recording?" Dean asked. 

"I might get something, we'll just have to see," you replied with a shrug.

"Alright," Dean said before pressing play again.

"I can never go home..." a woman whispered through the static, and you felt another chill up your spine, but this time it was accompanied by a wave of grief and intense anger.

Your hands gripped the edge of the trunk so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Dean looked over at you expectantly but you shook your head at him.

"Nothing helpful," you muttered as you continued to shake your head back and forth, trying to shake away the invasive feelings.

"It's alright," Dean reached out and rubbed your back soothingly for a moment before tossing the tape recorder back into the trunk.

Sam quickly took Dean's place as he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and rubbed your bicep gently. Dean closed the trunk and stood up tall. He looked up at Sam expectantly, who only sighed deeply. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek.

"Alright. I'll go," Sam said finally, "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," he let his arm fall from around your shoulders and you shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam turned to head back to his apartment.

"I have an interview," Sam said simply as he turned back to look at Dean.

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate" Sam explained slowly.

"Law school?" Dean asked with a questioning smirk.

"We got a deal or not?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question.

"Yeah, fine," Dean said after a moment of silence, and you noticed him clench his jaw in annoyance.

Sam nodded and turned to head back into his apartment building. Dean sat on the closed trunk and looked over at you with furrowed brows.

"Did you know about this law school thing?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I did," you told him, honestly.

"You guys talk regularly or something?" you heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

"Not all that regularly. We just update each other on major life events occasionally," that wasn't entirely true, but you'd rather not have to sit in a car with the brothers being silently angry at each other.

Dean didn't say anything else, instead he looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with his shoe. You knew Sam and Dean hadn't talked since Sam had left for college. Dean missed his little brother, and you didn't blame him. You just wanted to smack him upside the head for being so stubborn. He certainly wasn't the only Winchester you wanted to knock some sense into.

Sam came back down a few minutes later, emerging from the door of his apartment building carrying a duffel bag that mirrored your own. He tossed his in the trunk as you opened the door to the backseat. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the drivers door.

"You don't want shotgun? You had it first, you're welcome to it."

"Nah, I'm alright. Sam always gets shotgun anyway," you said, and Sam shot you a grateful look.

You smiled back at him before getting into the backseat. You pushed your duffel bag to the floor, then you slid to sit in the middle seat, like you always did when it was the three of you. The brothers got into their respective seats before Dean started the impala.

"Alright, get comfortable kids," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

A FEW MILES OUTSIDE JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a car door opening and closing. You blinked rapidly as you tried to let your eyes adjust to the sudden light. You lifted your head up off your makeshift pillow that you had made from your balled up jacket. You rubbed your sore neck as you cursed yourself for forgetting a spare blanket or pillow. You somehow always forgot to bring one.

You looked around at the scenery outside the impala. Not that there was much scenery to speak of. It was a clear day, no clouds to block the sun's warm rays. You turned to your left to see a rickety old convenience store, then turned to the right to see a couple gas pumps that looked like they had seen better days. Sam had his door propped open with his foot as he went through Dean's box of cassette tapes that sat on his lap. You could imagine the disgusted face he was making at all of Dean's classic rock tapes. The warm breeze felt refreshing as you worked on waking up.

"Hey," you heard Dean call out, and you turned to your right to see him through the window, "you want breakfast?" he asked Sam, holding up a few beef sticks and a bag of chips; your stomach growled as you saw the food in his hands.

"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head before going back to the box of tapes, "so, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam called out to Dean.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied as he placed the nozzle back in the gas pump.

"You guys probably shouldn't be talking so loud about hunting and credit card scams," you said, loud enough so Dean could hear from outside the car.

The drivers side door opened a moment later and Dean climbed inside, continuing to talk loudly, having not heard or cared about your advice. You looked around and realized there didn't seem to be anyone else at the gas station. You just hoped the clerk didn't hear Dean's noisy confession.

"Y'know, all we do is apply for the cards. It's not our fault they send 'em."

You rolled your eyes at him. He set a soda down in the cup holder, and you reached out and snatched a beef stick from his hand. Dean silently handed you a bottle of water that you hadn't even seen him holding. You took it gratefully before setting it down next to you so you could rip open the wrapper of the beef stick.

"What names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, a bit quieter, taking your advice as he swung his long legs back into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal," Dean said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"That sounds about right," Sam said before looking back down at the box of cassette tapes in his lap, "I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection," he said with a sigh.

"Why?" you almost laughed at how defensive Dean sounded.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" Sam paused, grabbing a cassette and holding it up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" he held up a cassette for each band he named, "it's the greatest hits of mullet rock," you were a little offended, considering the fact that you loved those bands too, but you knew Sam was only teasing Dean.

"House rules, Sammy," Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam's hand, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," you couldn't stop your laughter as Dean slotted the tape into the radio and pressed play.

Dean dropped the cassette case back in the box before he reached out and snatched the box from Sam. He tossed it back to you. You caught it with ease, setting it in the seat next to you. You smiled at the masking tape labels and crude handwriting on a majority of them. You spotted one that read 'Happy 21st B-Day D!' and it made you smile.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam started, ignoring your giggles as he turned to Dean, "it's Sam, okay?" he demanded, but in a gentle way that only he could manage.

The music had already began to play, Battery playing softly through the speakers. Dean reached out and slowly turned the knob to increase the volume. Dean raised his voice along with the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Dean said as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY, CALIFORNIA

Sam gave you the task of calling the hospital in the area for anyone matching John's description, while he called the morgue. It didn't take very long before you hung up the phone, having received the information you needed. You noticed a sign that read 'JERICHO 7' whiz by as Sam ended his call.

"Alright, so there's no one matching dad at the morgue."

"Or the hospital," you added.

"So that's something, I guess," Sam said.

You suddenly felt your chest tighten, and your heartbeat quickened as you seemed to be nearing a bridge. You could see it in the distance, and the only clouds in the sky covered the entire length of it. The dark clouds contrasted against the blue sky. You felt your heart drop at the sight of police cars parked near the bridge. Dean seemed to notice too as he glanced at Sam, then back at the road ahead. You could see a couple cops stood around a blue car that was parked sideways, blocking off the bridge.

"Check it out," Dean said as you neared the action.

Sam leaned forward with narrowed eyes to try to make out more details. As you got closer, it felt like a hand was being wrapped around your throat. You shivered despite the warm California air that was making you sweat. Dean pulled off on the side of the road a couple yards away from the bridge, and you were finally able to take a deep breath. There was a cloud of death that hung over that bridge.

You all sat there and watched for a few moments before Dean turned off the impala. Suddenly, he reached over and opened the glovebox. He grabbed out a small box full of fake ID cards that had his and John's pictures on them. You sighed and leaned back in your seat.

"They're gonna get suspicious if all three of us go up," you said as Dean rifled through the box.

"Then stay in the car," he answered quickly, not looking up.

"I have to get to the bridge to get anything."

"Then just go to the edge of the bridge and do your thing while Sam and I go talk to them," Dean said as he pulled out an ID from the pile before shoving the box back in the glovebox, "let's go," he said as he opened his door and climbed out of the impala.

Sam turned to you with his mouth hung open in surprise, "fake ID's? Really?" he asked, obviously annoyed with Dean.

"They're helpful," you said with a nod, "I don't like using them all that much, though," you added quickly when he shook his head disapprovingly. 

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of the impala. You couldn't pinpoint how many people had died on that bridge, but you knew it had to be many. At least one, by the looks of the empty car and confused looking cops. Sam's door shutting loudly made you force yourself to start walking. You and Sam caught up with Dean, and you took your usual place in-between the brothers, walking quickly to keep in stride with them.

"You guys find anything?" you heard a man on the right side of the bridge yell down to what you assumed were men combing the river.

"No! Nothing!" was the distant and echoed response.

Once you reached the beginning of the bridge, you slowed and departed from the brothers, heading to the left. Sam and Dean continued walking toward the blue car and the cops. You heard them begin talking with the officers, but their voices faded away as you neared the edge of the bridge. You reached out and placed your hands on the railing, using them to brace yourself as you leaned over to look down into the rushing river water.

A wave of anger washed over you, similar to the one you had felt before, when you listened to the EVP on John's voicemail. It was accompanied by a bitter sadness, and this time it was much more intense. It suddenly shifted into grief, then all you felt was cold, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the river water on your head. You shivered as a name appeared in your mind. You turned quickly to look for Sam and Dean, spotting them walking back toward the start of the bridge. You began to speed walk over to them. You watched Dean take step in front of Sam, and turned to face him as they stopped walking. They looked like they are arguing again. You shook your head as you stomped over.

"I need a pen," you demanded as you walked up to them.

"Woah, are you okay?" Sam said as he look at you, concern etched into his features.

"I'm fine, I just need a pen," you repeated, "I got a name."

"Y/N, you're crying," Sam said as he pulled his sleeve up over his thumb and wiped your left cheek while you reached up and wiped you right; sure enough there was a trail were tears had streamed down your face.

"I didn't even know I was. I don't think it was really me crying, anyway. She made me feel how she felt before she died, if that makes any sense," you rambled on as Sam wiped the rest of your tears away before taking a step back, and you didn't fail to notice the raised eyebrow look Dean gave you and Sam.

You were about to raise your hand to hit Dean on the arm, but you heard an authoritative voice come from your right that stopped you, "can I help you three?"

You turned to see the sheriff with two tall FBI agents standing behind him. All three of them stared down at you through their sunglasses. You typically didn't let cops rattle you, but the FBI were a different story. You did your best to stand up tall and stare them down right back. The sheriff looked the three of you over, his eyes landing on you.

"No, sir. We were just leaving," Dean told him.

The FBI agents didn't seem to have time for you, as they ignored Dean and walked around him, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean joked as they passed him.

You wound back and slapped him in the arm. He laughed and rubbed his bicep as the three of you walked past the sheriff. You could feel his eyes on you as you left. Dean finally pulled out a pen and handed it to you as you walked back to the impala. You spread out your palm and wrote down the name you had been given earlier.

"Constance Welch," you said to them as you held your hand out for both of them to see.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"The girl who made me cry," you tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed; he never liked when the ghosts affected you like that, "I think she's the spirit that's killing the guys," you added, quickly.

"Well, we'll have to go dig up some more information. They mentioned something about the girlfriend of the kid who died. We can go talk to her and ask her a couple questions, try to figure out why he was killed," Dean explained as the three of you got into the impala.

"Are we gonna go wave fake badges in her face?" you asked, not sure if that was the best idea, "maybe Sam and I can talk to her while you go look up Constance," you suggested, and Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror before nodding.

"Alright, fine. But I better not get stuck with the busywork next time," he said with a huff.

JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

The sidewalks were mostly empty as the impala slowly rolled down the main road of town. It was still fairly early in the day, but you expected more people to be out. It was the weekend after all. When you saw the sign above the closed movie theater, it made sense why the streets were mostly barren. 'EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING; SUNDAY 8 PM; BE SAFE OUT THERE,' was the message to all the townsfolk.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean nodded to a girl taping a pink paper on the brick wall just to the left of the theater.

Dean drove a few more feet before pulling up to the side of the road. You and Sam hopped out, and you leaned down to look at Dean through the open passenger door.

"I'll call you when we're done," you told him and he nodded.

You stood up straight and Sam shut his door. You turned and walked the few steps toward the girl. You tried not to seem too intimidating, but with Sam standing at 6'4, that was a bit of a challenge. You hoped his young face and signature puppy dog eyes would help your cause. She taped a missing poster to the wall that read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE' underneath a smiling photo of Troy. You noticed the other missing posters that were hung up too, and you quickly realized they were all of the pervious victims you had seen in Dean's file.

"You must be Amy," you said as you approached her.

"Yeah," she replied flatly, not looking up as she secured the paper to the wall with another piece of tape.

"Yeah, Troy must have told you about us. I'm his aunt Y/N, and this is his uncle Sam," you explained to the girl with a smile.

"He never mentioned you to me," she said before turning and walking away, but you were quick to walk in stride with her.

"Well, that's Troy I guess," you said, adding in a fake chuckle, "we're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said as he took a step in front of her to stop her from walking any further.

Another girl came up to Amy, gently placing a hand on her arm, "hey, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Amy said with a nod, never taking her eyes off Sam.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked her, and she nodded.

Amy and her friend, who introduced herself as Rachel, led you down the street to a diner. It was mostly empty, other than an older couple sitting at a booth in the back right. You also noticed a seemingly bored waitress standing by the counter. She barely even noticed the four of you walk in, too busy looking down at her cellphone. Amy and Rachel slid into a booth in the far left of the diner. You and Sam slid into the side opposite them. Amy waved down the waitress and you and Sam ordered coffee, while the girls ordered sodas.

"What happened the night Troy disappeared?" you asked her gently.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did," she told you, on the verge of tears.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

Amy fidgeted nervously with the charm of her necklace; it was a black pentagram. Sam took the words right out of your mouth before you could speak them.

"I like your necklace."

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," She laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

You and Sam both chuckled. He glanced at you, and you shared a look of understanding.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam explained to Amy.

"Did Troy believe in or practice anything satanic? Or was the necklace just a harmless gift?" you asked her, trying to get any sort of lead.

"It was a just a gift. I think he ordered it off the internet," she told you with a shrug.

"Well, the way Troy disappeared, somethin's not right. If either of you know anything..." Sam trailed off.

Amy and Rachel slowly turned and looked at each other.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel replied.

You and Sam spoke in tandem, "what do they talk about?" you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed Sam always knowing what you were going to say.

Rachel paused, glancing over at Amy before she rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, speaking quietly, "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," the name Constance Welch flashed in your mind as Rachel spoke, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever," you glanced over at Sam who was listening intently.

"Well, let's hope it's just a legend, yeah? Thank you for answering our questions. If you think of anything else that could help," you paused as you grabbed a napkin from the holder and pulled out the pen that Dean had given you earlier, "don't be afraid to call," you wrote your phone number down on the napkin and handed it to her, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said and you almost laughed at how diplomatic he sounded.

You and Sam slid out of the booth and headed for the front door. The bell above the door dinged as Sam opened it, letting you go through first. You noticed the sun starting to slowly slip below the horizon. The breeze didn't do much to cool you off, the humid air making your forehead slick with sweat. You used the back of your hand to wipe off as much moisture from your face as you could. You gestured for Sam to follow you as you started walking down the road toward the motel you had seen earlier. You pulled your cell phone out as you walked and flipped it open, quickly finding Dean's contact. You pressed call and brought the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he picked up.

"You get anything?" he asked you eagerly.

You didn't think twice about his lack of greeting, instead you answered his question immediately, "you probably got more than we did. We got told a local legend of a woman who was murdered on Centennial, and her ghost hitchhikes and picks up poor suckers who never get seen again," you told him, but you had a feeling he was going to fill you in on the missing pieces.

"They almost got it right. Funny how much a story can change over twenty years" Dean said, more to himself than to you.

"Hold on," you said before pulling the phone away from your ear and putting him on speakerphone, "What actually happened?" you asked him.

"She committed suicide. Jumped off the bridge where they found that kids car."

"So it's gotta be her... Did it say why she did it?"

Dean sighed sadly, "the article said she left her kids in the bathtub and they drowned. She had called 911 but it had already been too late. They found her an hour later in the river."

"Geez, no wonder I felt so much grief," you muttered, more to yourself, but Sam heard it all too clearly, "did the article say where she's buried?" you asked, deciding to ignore the concerned look Sam was giving you.

"No, but it had her husbands name. Joseph Welch. If we find him I'm sure he can tell us where she's buried."

"Alright. It's getting late, though. We can meet at the motel we passed earlier and get a room for the night," you said, realizing how much your body was aching.

"Want me to head back and pick you guys up?"

"Nah, we're almost there. I can see it. Just meet us there."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you soon," you echoed before closing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke, "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam knew how drained you could feel after channeling a ghost like you did on the bridge, especially an extremely vengeful spirit like Constance. The more you thought about how exhausted you were, your limbs felt heavier.

"I'm alright, just tired," you told him, but you could see in his furrowed brow expression that he didn't believe you, "a few hours of sleep should fix me right up," you added, somewhat sarcastically.

You had just made it to the front office when you heard the all too familiar roar of the impala's engine. You turned to see Dean pull into the parking lot and park in the first parking spot he could find. He hopped out with a gloating smile, happy that he had uncovered more than the two of you. You wanted to remind him who got the name in the first place.

"Lets just get a room," you said before Dean could start gloating aloud.

The three of you walked into the office of the motel. An older looking gentleman was stood behind the counter with a polite smile. Dean pulled his fake credit card out of his wallet and dropped it down on the counter.

"One room, please," he told the clerk, his proud smile still spread wide across his face.

The man picked up the fake credit card, looking down at it before glancing up at Dean, "you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Which room was it?" you asked sweetly, hoping the man didn't get too suspicious.

"Number one. I only remember because he was so damn adamant about having it," he told you as he ran Dean's credit card and handed it back along with your room key.

"Thank you," you said before practically dragging the brothers out of the office, "let's get settled into our room, then we can check out John's room in a little bit. That guy might be keeping an eye out."

Sam and Dean agreed. The three of you grabbed your bags from the impala before bringing them to your room. You waited for the sun to fully set before the three of you started getting impatient. You were the first one out the door, checking to make sure that the coast was clear before the brothers followed. You walked down to the door of room one, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, your backs to the door as Sam knelt down to pick the lock. It only took him about thirty seconds before you heard the lock click from behind you. You turned as Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, yanking him back into the room. You stepped in quickly after. Sam shut the door behind you as your eyes scanned the room.

"Woah," you mumbled as you both looked around the room.

There were newspaper clippings, printed articles, and photos hung on almost every inch of the walls of the motel room. There are books and papers scattered across every surface. Dean flicked a lamp on, leaning down to sniff a discarded burger underneath the light. He recoiled in disgust.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean observed.

"I think you're right," you replied as you walked to the far wall, making sure to step over the salt line that blocked the door.

Sam leaned down and poked at the salt on the floor, "salt, cats eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he said as he stood up straight, before walking over to stand by Dean, "what have you got here?" Sam asked his brother, who was looking at a line of papers hung up on the wall.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replied, looking over the obituaries to make sure there weren't any he'd missed, "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Sam crossed the room to stand next to you as Dean spoke, "there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

You and Sam noticed the photos and papers hung on the wall in front of you, and it confirmed what you had already been suspicious of. Sam reached out and turned on the lamp in front of you.

"Dad figured it out," Sam said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he turned.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch," Sam said, pointing at the article hung on the wall.

"She's a woman in white," you said when Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You sly dogs," Dean said as he looked back at the articles of the missing men.

"The caption of the photo says Joseph Welch was thirty. The article dates to 1981, so he must be..." you paused, doing the math in your head, "sixty-four!" you said, hopeful.

"If he's still alive," Sam spoke what was on all your minds.

"We can worry about it tomorrow. I need at least a couple hours so I don't fall over," you said, a yawn enunciating your words.

"Didn't get enough beauty sleep in the car? You had the whole backseat to yourself," Dean teased as he walked to the door.

"That backseat is not as comfy for sleeping as you think it is," you protested as you stepped over the salt line.

"Better than nothing," Dean was just trying to piss you off, but unfortunately it was working.

"Well, no shit, jackass. But my neck is killing me and I'd love to sleep in a real bed," you pushed past Dean and out the door, checking to make sure no one was outside before leaving.

You got into the room first, taking your opportunity to enter the bathroom and have a quick shower before Dean used up all the hot water. You had the water running and the door closed when you heard Sam and Dean enter the room. You could heard Dean's muffled voice from the other side of the door You heard only a garbled mess of words until you heard your name. You quietly crept up to the bathroom door, pressing your ear up against it. Their voices were quieter now, but you were sure you had heard Dean say your name. You decided it probably wasn't best to ease drop. You couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. You gave up, stepping away from the door and continuing with your shower.

Dean was already passed out in one of the two king sized beds by the time you were out of the bathroom. You chuckled at his loud snoring as you stuffed your dirty clothes into your duffel bag. Sam was sat at the small table near the window, looking down at his phone. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands as you contemplated what to say or do.

"The bathroom's free if you want to take a shower," you said finally.

Sam jumped slightly, looking a bit startled. He hadn't noticed you come out of the bathroom. Were you that sneaky or was he that distracted? You guessed it was a bit of both.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm good."

"Alright," you glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, "I don't think you'll want to share with him, so you can share with me," you felt your ears warming up but you did your best to ignore it.

"After having to sit in the front seat with him all day, I'd rather not have to deal with him hogging the covers all night. Thank you," Sam said gratefully, but he made no move to get into the bed, instead looking back down at his phone.

You nodded before walking over to the empty bed, laying on the right side. You left the side facing Dean's bed for Sam.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on the floor, your father's head in your lap. Your hands are slick with his blood as you hold the sides of his face.

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted awake, sitting up straight as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes met Sam's as he stood next to the bed, his hand on your shoulder.

"Nightmare?" you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears.

You nodded as you took in a shaky breath. Sam's hand moved to your back, rubbing in soft circles. It actually helped ground you, and you were able to catch your breath fairly quickly. Dean came out of the bathroom as Sam let his hand fall from your back.

"You okay?" he asked you and you nodded quickly.

"I'm just gonna get ready," you mumbled, feeling awkward having both of them looking at you worriedly.

You stood and walked over to your duffel bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. You could hear Sam and Dean's hushed voices as you got dressed. They went silent a few moments before you exited the bathroom. Sam was sat on the bed as he listened to a voicemail from who you assumed to be Jessica. You watched Dean pull on his jacket.

"Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," he replied.

"Aframian's buying," Dean joked.

Sam only shook his head, and Dean sighed, turning to you.

"You hungry? Wanna go get some greasy diner food?" he asked enthusiastically.

"For breakfast? I'm hoping for some pancakes or something," you said as you looked around for your own jacket, "we'll see you in a bit, Sam," you stopped yourself from calling him 'Sammy,' but you can see in his eyes that he caught your almost slip up.

"Mhm," he hummed in response as you and Dean headed out the door.

You walked with Dean across the parking lot toward the impala. You looked to the right when you felt someone looking at you. You saw the motel clerk talking with a couple cops. The clerk pointed at you and Dean when he saw you.

"Shit," you muttered as you turned to face away from the cops.

Dean mirrored your movements, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he pulled his phone out, "dude, five-o. Take off," you heard Dean say into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean closed his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket before the he spun around to face the cops, bumping your shoulder with his to make you turn around too.

"Problem, officers?" Dean said with a shit eating grin that you wanted to smack right off his face.

"Where's your partner?" the cop crossed his arms over his chest as he looked from Dean to you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The cop jerked his thumb toward your motel room, silently ordering his partner to search the room. He obeyed, walking to the door before opening it and going inside. You felt your palms begin to sweat as you watched him enter the room, worried that he would come back out with Sam in handcuffs. Your eyes darted back toward the cop standing in front of you. He stood still as a statue, staring you down. You did your best to stand your ground and try not seem a nervous as you were.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" the cop asked Dean.

Dean paused, as if debating his response, "My boobs," he finally replied with a toothy grin that showed he was satisfied with his answer.

The cop shoved Dean's shoulder roughly, forcing him to turn around. He pressed his hand in between Dean's shoulder blades, slamming him down against the hood of the car with a thud while his other hand went to his belt to grab his cuffs.

"Turn around with your hands against the hood of the car, please," the cop ordered you through gritted teeth.

You did what he said, not wanting to piss him off anymore than Dean had already done. He cuffed Dean before cuffing you, pressing your cheek against the hood of the impala. You must have looked incredibly annoyed, because Dean's slightly amused smile quickly disappeared.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the cop read you your rights as you continued to glare at Dean.

You always hated dealing with the cops. Everytime Dean got the two of you arrested, you hated them even more. Cops didn't believe in monsters and ghosts, so they were always a hinderance, rather than a help. You had a funny feeling that this sheriff was going to get on your nerves. They had thrown you and Dean in separate interview rooms. The sheriff had asked your name and age, which you gave fake answers to both. He had left you to go interrogate Dean.

He was gone for a few minutes before he entered the room again. He was holding a file box full of papers and folders. You assumed they were the things that had been hung up on the walls of John's motel room. He dropped it onto the table before dropping down a notebook in front of you. You immediately recognized it, but you did your best to make sure your face didn't reflect that.

"So you want to give me your real name?" he asked as he leaned against the table.

"I already told you. It's Sandra Nugent," you reiterated to the sheriff, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

"You could be in a lot of trouble here, you know that? Unless you cooperate with me. If you tell me what your boyfriend and his partners have been doing, maybe I can help you out," you wanted to laugh at how desperate he sounded.

"You don't have any evidence on us," you replied stubbornly.

"Ya'll got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You and your buddy in there are officially suspects."

"Right, because when the first one went missing in '82, before I was even born," you deadpanned.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Y/N is it?" you must have looked surprised, because he opened John's notebook that was sat on the table and began flipping through it slowly, "I thought that might be your name. I got Dean's name fairly quickly, but yours I wasn't so sure about. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," he flipped through until he was almost at the end, stopping and leaning back so you could see the page he had flipped to, "but I found this, too."

You looked down at the page. It was mostly blank other than Deans name scrawled in John's handwriting, along with 35-111 underneath it. The message was circled hastily.

"No one is going anywhere until one of you can tell me what the hell that means," he tapped the message on the paper with his index finger.

"I don't know what it means. It looks like it might be a locker combo or something," you said with a shrug.

The sheriff was getting red faced, and you were sure Dean had told him the same things. This wasn't your first rodeo. Before he could question you any more, there was a knock at the door. It opened a second later. A young cop stuck his head into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road," he told the sheriff.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked you.

"No," you replied.

"Good."

He promptly cuffed you to the table. You struggled against the cuffs slightly, the metal digging into the skin of your wrist. The sheriff left and shut the door behind him. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, you could see all the cops scrambling to leave. You looked around, trying to find a way out, when you noticed a paper clip sticking out of John's journal.

You reached out and grabbed it. You unbent it and used it to pick the lock on your handcuffs. You did your best to remember what Sam taught you, and soon you were free. You grabbed John's journal off the table and crept over to the door. You peered through the small window and waited until all the cops had cleared out before trying the door. It was surprisingly unlocked. You went to the interrogation room next door, opening it to reveal Dean handcuffed to the table.

"Well look at you, ya' little escape artist! How did you manage that?" Dean asked as you entered the room.

You held up the straightened paper clip for him to see before getting to work on unlocking his handcuffs. He laughed in amusement as you freed him.

"He made it pretty easy," you said with a shrug, handing him John's journal, "now come on, let's get outta here before they come back."

The two of you crept through the police station, careful not to let anyone see you. It seemed like they had all hands on deck though, because the place looked almost deserted. You managed to find your cell phones on the sheriff's desk. You were sure the receptionist would still be at the front desk, so you searched around for window or a back exit. You quickly found a window that let to the fire escape.

You unlocked it and pulled it open before climbing out onto the fire escape. You gestured for Dean to follow, and he did so without hesitation. Dean climbed down first before you climbed down after him. The two of you made sure the coast was clear of any cop cars before walking down the sidewalk, headed for the town exit. You weren't sure which way Sam had gone or where he was, but you needed to get the hell out of dodge before the cops found you again. The sidewalk ended at the exit of town, and Dean pulled his cellphone out to call Sam.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal," he said as he put it on speakerphone so you could hear Sam too.

"You're welcome," Sam's voice came through the shitty speaker of Deans phone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started, but Sam was quick to reply.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam explained.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to stop his brother from speaking.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," you told him.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said.

"What's it say?" Sam asked.

"The same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam said, immediately understanding what Dean meant, "Where to?"

"We aren't sure yet. We didn't have much time to look while we were running from the cops," you said, annoyance evident in your tone, but it was more directed at Dean.

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?"

You heard the screech of tires skidding on the road through the phone before a quiet thud.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone frantically.

"Take me home," you heard Constance's soft voice come through the phone, and your hand flew up to clutch your head as the image of a house appeared in your mind.

"Y/N? What is it? Are you alright?" Dean stopped walking to put his hand on your shoulder.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you examined the house. It felt like a memory, but you knew you had never seen the house before. You quickly realized it had to be a memory from Constance. It must be her old house where Sam said she was buried.

"The house," you said, "We have to go to the house. That's where she's taking him," you said as you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look at Dean.

"We don't know where the house is!" he cried out, more in fear than in anger.

"I do. Follow me," you didn't elaborate and instead you turned and started jogging, knowing the house wasn't too far from you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked as he easily caught up to jog next to you.

"I'm fine, but Sam isn't gonna be if we don't hurry up," you said before picking up the pace.

You and Dean were now running as fast as your legs could manage. You eventually cut through the tree line, coming out into a clearing. You could see the house in the distance, with the impala stopped out front. You could see Sam sitting in the front seat. As you got closer, you could see the ghostly figure above Sam. You quickly recognized the long wavy hair to belong to Constance.

"Cover your ears!" Dean shouted as you ran.

Your hands flew up to cover ears. You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if one of them said to do something, you did it without question. You heard the muffled sound of a gun shot as you saw the front windows of the impala shatter. Constance disappeared for a moment before reappearing, turning to glare at the two of you. You felt your spine shudder in fear at the anger that radiated off her. Dean continued to shoot until she disappeared for good. You had just made it to the impala when you saw Sam sit up. He reached out and turned the keys in the ignition, making the car rumble to life.

"I'm taking you home," he said breathlessly before he pressed on the gas.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him as the impala lurched forward and smashed through the front wall of the house with a loud crash.

You and Dean ran up the porch stairs and through the now giant hole in the side of the house. You stepped over the rubble and toward the impala that had stopped in the middle of what looked to be the remnants of a living room.

"Sam?" Dean called out as he ran to the passenger side of the car, "Sam! You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in through the window.

"I think..." you heard Sam say from inside the car as you walked over.

"Can you move?" Dean asked as he tried to get the passenger door open.

"Yeah. Help me?"

Dean yanked the passenger door open before leaning inside the car and reaching out for Sam. He pulled him out and up onto his feet and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

"There you go," Dean said.

The three of you turned and saw Constance on the other side of the room, holding a large framed photo. She finally noticed you, glaring daggers as she threw the picture to the floor. It clattered loudly as the three of you stared dumbly. Suddenly, her hand lifted and she made a gesture that caused a dresser to slide across the room and pin you against the side of the impala. The wind got knocked out of you as you tried to push the dresser away, but there was an unseen force holding it in place. Sam and Dean were too stubborn to stop trying. Constance took a step forward, a look of malice in her eyes. You were anticipating her next move, when suddenly the lights flickered and buzzed. You watched Constance turn and walk to the base of the stairs that now had water pouring down them like a waterfall.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," you heard a boy and girl say in unison.

Suddenly, the spirits of Constance's children appeared behind her. They wrapped their arms around her in one final hug as the lights surged. You shielded your eyes as Constance screamed. You watched from under your forearm as the three of their spirits sunk slowly into the floor, disappearing and leaving only a puddle of water behind. Sam and Dean pushed the dresser over, and it clattered loudly to the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust that made you cough. You walked over to examine the puddle, Sam and Dean close behind you. You all stared down at the floor in silence, trying to collect your thoughts. You were trying to brush off the residual rage that Constance had left behind.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam confirmed.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean clapped Sam on the chest where Constance had dug her fingers into his chest, presumably to rip out his heart; Sam laughed through the pain it caused him.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," you added.

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean said he walked over to the impala, leaning down to inspect the damage, "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" he turned to point at Sam menacingly, "I'll kill you," Sam laughed as you gave Dean a 'what the fuck?' look.

"You literally shot the windows out! I doubt Sam did more damage than you did to your own car," you said as you walked over to stand next to Dean, noticing the busted out headlight.

Fortunately, the impala still ran. The front windows were shattered, and the right headlight needed replacing, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. She'd been through worse, is what Dean had said.

~~~~~~~~~

You were leaned over the backrest of Sam's seat, looking at the map he had sitting open in his lap. He was trying to find the location of the coordinates that John had left. It didn't take him long to circle a spot on the map.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by tonight!" Dean said excitedly.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam trailed off, and you sat back in your seat, knowing where this was going.

"You're not going," Dean said simply.

"The interview's tomorrow morning. I gotta be there."

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

You had the sudden realization that your bags were still in your motel room. It wasn't difficult to convince Dean to drive back to the motel. You and Sam managed to sneak in and grab your stuff without being spotted. Dean sped to the highway to make sure the cops didn't catch you again.

None of you spoke for the rest of the drive. It was only a few hours, and the sun had set by the time you had arrived at Sam's apartment complex. Dean stopped out front and Sam opened the door and got out, shutting it behind him. He turned to lean in through the window as you climbed over the backrest to sit in the front seat. Once you were sat, you looked over at Sam, noticing how close he was.

"Call me if you find him?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" his eyes went from Dean to you, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, all right," Dean replied, still frowning slightly.

Sam patted the door twice, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up straight. He turned around and started to walk away. Dean set his arm on the backrest behind you, leaning forward slightly to look out the passenger window.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"You know, we all made a hell of a team back there," he said with a smirk, glancing at you.

Sam nodded with a small smile before Dean turned back to look at the road as he pressed on the gas. You didn't dare turn to look, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of Sam in the crooked side mirror. You could see his tall figure looming in the shadows. There was a sense of foreboding that you couldn't shake as you drove away. You were only on the road for a few minutes. Sam's apartment building had just barely faded in the distance. You turned and saw Dean's furrowed brows as he glanced between his watch and the road.

"What?" you questioned him.

"I think my watch stopped working."

A wave of dread washed over you as your heart dropped into your stomach. It felt like every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps. You swallowed hard around the lump rising in your throat.

"Dean, turn around and go back. Now," you said firmly.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He immediately pulled a u-turn and headed back toward Sam's apartment. You could feel the evil radiating off the building even before you saw it come into view. Dean pressed down on the gas harder, going well above the speed limit. He pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the door. You both hopped out of the impala but he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said quickly before turning and running into the building.

You looked up to see flames and smoke emitting from an upstairs window. Your stomach churned as you pulled out your phone to call 911. You put the phone to your ear, and spoke to the operator about the fire, who told you they were sending a fire truck. You could hear the fire alarm going off before Sam and Dean even made it outside. Just as your chest was starting to ache with worry, you saw them emerge, Dean practically dragging Sam along. Sam fell into your waiting arms, and you used all your strength to keep him somewhat standing. He had wrapped his arms around you and had shoved his face into the crook of your neck. Dean stood a few feet away, coughing loudly. He put up his hand and made it into a faux phone, shaking it next to his ear with furrowed brows, silently asking if you had called the police. You nodded as you hugged Sam tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair softly with the other.

The fire fighters didn't take long to get there. They managed to tame the flames fairly quickly, leaving most of the apartment complex intact. Sam had detached from you before they had arrived, wiping his eyes and sitting on the trunk of the impala. He didn't speak a word to you. Only when Sam was talking with the cops was when you got part of the story from Dean.

"She was... on the ceiling," he told you slowly.

"Like... Like how your mom died?" you asked gently.

Dean nodded and you felt your chest tighten as your heart rate quickened. You shook your head as you looked over to the building. Smoke was still billowing out into the night sky, blocking the few stars you could see from view. You and Dean were stood side by side at the back of the crowd of onlookers that had grown at the edge of the police tape. The red lights of the fire truck were still flashing, and they were starting to give you a headache. You turned away from the building to head back to the impala. Dean had pulled it off to the side of the road a few yards away. Sam was stood in front of the open trunk. You saw him loading a shotgun as you approached.

You didn't want to pity him, knowing it would only make him feel worse. When you saw the tear stains down his cheeks, you couldn't stop the sympathetic smile you gave him. He smiled weakly at you. Dean walked up next, giving Sam a look you couldn't place. You knew all the Winchester looks, but this one was foreign to you. Sam nodded at him before letting out shuddering breath, obviously knowing what his brother's look meant. You appreciated them getting along, but you didn't like to be excluded. Under different circumstances, you would have pestered them until they told you what telepathic messages they were sending each other. Instead, you stayed quiet, watching as Sam threw the now loaded shotgun into the trunk.

"We got work to do," he said before slamming the trunk shut.

#userbored-writer101 #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural season 1 #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #john winchester #bobby singer #supernatural rewrite #supernatural x reader rewrite #pilot #female reader #gender neutral pronouns

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Book Dragon

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by @hotmencore

Synopsis: You’re obsessed with books, and sometimes it leads to problems for your big brothers

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Dean called to you from the front seat.

“No thanks,” you mumbled from behind your book cover. Dean glanced back before reaching over his seat and snatching the book out of your hands.

“Hey!” Your complaints fell on deaf ears as Dean tossed the book to Sam, who stuffed it in his bag.

“It’s nearly midnight, baby, we won’t be there for another five hours. Sleep.”

“I was in the middle of a chapter,” you whined.

“And you’ll finish it in the morning.”

“But-“ you began, but broke off when Dean held up a hand.

“Not another word for at least the next two hundred miles. Understand?”

You began to grumble, but then Dean turned around enough to glare at you.

“I’m sorry, was that a word?”

You rolled your eyes but fell silent, snatching up the jacket Dean had left in the middle partition and pulling it over yourself.

“Bookworm,” Dean mumbled, shaking his head and turning on some music, making sure to keep it quiet so you and Sam could get some rest.

…

“Where’d you get that?”

You looked up from your book to see Dean staring at you from across the motel room. You blinked once. Twice. You’d been completely lost in the Woods of Nore with the Fairies of Kinsen, and you’d honestly forgotten that you weren’t still in the bookstore. You’d gone in with Sam and Dean and had picked up the book, intending to just glance at the blurb, but you’d ended up lost in the pages as Sam and Dean took longer than you’d thought they would.

“I…the bookstore,” you said finally.

“And…did you pay for it?”

You thought back, desperately hoping that you’d just forgotten buying it. But no, you remembered now. You were in the middle of a battle, and Sam had tugged on your arm, and you’d followed him out of the store without a second thought.

“No…” your voice came out high pitched and panicked.

“Why would you do that?” Dean demanded, but he softened when he saw the fear in your eyes when you looked back at him.

“It was an accident, I swear! Please don’t tell dad, please.”

“I won’t, I won’t. But you gotta promise me that you’re gonna pay more attention next time, ok?”

“I will,” you promised, jumping up and hugging your big brother. “Thanks Dean.”

Dean failed to hold back his smile.

“You’re welcome, bookworm.”

…

You clicked off your flashlight and tried to stow your book under your pillow when you felt Dean move beside you, but you weren’t fast enough.

“Baby? What are you-“ Dean’s voice trailed off when he saw the book in your hands. “Seriously?”

Your face flushed, and you hugged the book to your chest.

“What? It’s good!”

“Shh!” Dean hissed as Sam sat up and John stirred. John remained asleep, and Sam began to look around.

“What’s up?” Sam mumbled.

“The bookworm won’t sleep,” Dean complained, snatching the book out of your hand.

“Dude, I think she’s upgraded from bookworm at this point,” Sam laughed softly.

“To what? Book snake?”

“I wanna be a book dragon,” you insisted.

“Yeah, well,” Dean placed your book on the dresser, far out of your reach. “Whatever you are, it’s time for bed.”

“But-“

“Nope,” Dean reached over and poked your ribs, but when you let out a surprised squeal he clapped a hand over your mouth. “Shh!”

The three of you stayed completely silent while John stirred, but he just rolled over and fell back asleep.

“Gross!” Dean hissed when you licked his hand, and you giggled, covering your mouth with your hands to muffle the sound.

“Yeah yeah, hilarious,” Dean snatched up a pillow and slammed it against your face, knocking you back against your pillow.

“Now get some sleep, book dragon.”

#winchester #john winchester #sam winchester #winchester x reader #the winchesters #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #winchesters x sister #sam and dean #supernatural dean #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean and sam #sam winchester x you #sam x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural sam #dean x you

[silencingspellsongs]

y'know what i think we all stopped talking about unnamed caller too soon. i'm not done with him just yet.

first of all, sorry to ya'll trying to call him john or whatever but wow i just hate that. live your life i guess but i'd cut out my tongue before ever calling him john lmao (personally i imagine him as a liam 🤭)

but anyways i love the theory that he's a stealth. he could also be a daemon, some of his vibes feel very similar to regulus but with maybe like a serenity daemon twist (all that talk about "i'll make you happy" and "i'll fix things") but also it would be so close to regulus that i feel like erik wouldn't want to go that route. a stealth adds a new little bit of intrigue... plus stealths are cool and sexy

and maybe it's because of the plot pushes recently and unnamed caller all swirling around in my head together but after the last update to the balance arc when elliott and aaron finally talked with the department and now we know that they're sending in a team of stealths to try and extract sunshine, i cannot stop thinking about unnamed caller as a department stealth going on that mission.

i don't want this in the way of like "oh, connection to sunshine oh man maybe he's stalking them in his audio after all the balance stuff is resolved!!" or for it to tie him in any way to the plot or anything like that. no i just want the smallest like blink and you miss it type easter egg hint of we just hear the voice of one of the department stealths during or post rescue mission in passing and it's that sort of gruff voice and i want to sit there while listening and think to myself "... is that the caller's voice?" and have no proof that it is or not. i want the mystery of it.

caller really gives off the energy of someone desperate for control that they don't have in their normal day to day life. the way he speaks to sweetie, he is demanding and insisting that they listen to him and do as he says. and nothing says no control like a cog in the magical government machine. apathetic worker, not getting the respect and recognition he feels he deserves.

it's like what we got from the recent milo audio about how the department treats its workers like sweetheart. who's to say caller hasn't reached the point where he's been beaten down, chewed up, and spit out by his thankless job and he's fighting back for control over his life by projecting it onto someone that caught his eye until it has now spiraled into an unhealthy obsession. sweetie probably just like smiled at him on the street one day and that's all it took, just a kind gesture from a stranger to a man who wanted to be noticed.

this is all just inane ramblings but idk man i just can't stop thinking about him. i want to believe that we will get more unnamed caller someday. i gotta know more about him. you can't just end an audio with a foreboding "soon" and then leave the guy as a one off. it would ruin me.

i need him. i need him so bad. like you don't even get it, i need him right now. give him to me. please.

#redactedverse #redacted audio #redacted stranger #redacted caller #argent rambles #sorry i started thinking about him and then i blacked out and hit post #this *67 ass bitch smh #erik whatever you were going through when you made his audio.... keep going through it #(im joking) #(or am i)

[thecameronchronicles]

Hayride

TW: Public fondlings. Smuttiness (in teasing and vulgar dirty talk). Language. 

SUMMARY: John B finds entertainment between your legs on this otherwise boring hayride. 

WORD COUNT: 1500

Hayride

As adolescent and even childish as it might seem, you couldn’t hide your excitement for the hayride consisting of your core group of friends set on hay bales on the back of some tractor. Uncomfortable as it had been while you sat between his legs and allowed everyone else the minor comfort you were denied, the way you were able to rest against John B had more than made up for it. Those strong arms wrapped around your waist and your head at rest at his shoulder, you were in such peace, even as the cart would buckle beneath you, taking every lift and curve with minimal control against its suspension while he would pull you tighter. 

“You cold?” He asked against your ear, his breath contradicting to the shivers taking each of your nerves captive. To mend this, he draped his plaid shirt over your lap, your legs bending  beneath it and moving closer to your chest as his fingers came to rest on your thighs. 

“Maybe we should get you some apple cider to warm you up or something…” You shrugged. 

“Or something…” You readjusted over him, forcing his fingers to trace against your sex, just enough to make your breath hitch for him. 

“You don’t want to wait?” You shook your head ‘no’ as he would smirk, allowing an amused exhale to leave his lips before that same parting of his mouth would come to your ear. 

“But I know for a fact that my girlfriend’s a screamer…and as much as I want all of them to know how little it takes to make you come for me…I think I’d rather save those little moans for me…” But as he threatened to lift his hand away from between your thighs, you would cause your nails to eat into the flesh of his wrist. 

“Please, John B…I’ll be so quiet…”

“And what about those faces you make for me? Eyes closed like you’re trying to crush ‘em…Mouth parted…Not to mention how you shake…mmm…” He moaned against you, his arousal now prominent at your lower back as he managed to arouse himself at the thought of you together. 

“Please…I’m…so…so-”

“I know you are…I can feel you already soaking your panties, baby…” You nodded against him as he let out a sigh, his silent surrender coming in the form of his fingers to your panties. 

“Yes…”

“Gotta be quiet for me…I don’t want them to know just how desperate you are for me…” He kissed your cheek softly, Kie offering a smirk almost as if to say ‘how sweet’ as she was otherwise none the wiser to the way his fingers were now inside of your panties, pulling at your clit from the cover of his flannel. 

“Jesus christ, you’re needy…” 

“Mmm hmmm…” Your voice shook as this caused him to chuckle. 

“She okay?” JJ asked when noticing your eyes close as your body stiffen. John B feigned ignorance by pulling himself to view you, drawn into the way you struggled to his fingers continuing to rub your clit, quickening as the attention was now on you. 

“She’s getting a bit of motion sickness, I think…Is that what it is, baby?” You only nodded, willing to agree to absolutely anything if it meant knowing his touch. 

“And she’s a bit cold…” He added as Pope’s interest was taken to you in concern, followed by Kiara, until the decorations set in the distant field had been enough to draw their attention elsewhere. 

“I’m not stopping, baby…but you’ve gotta try harder for me. I don’t want to embarrass you.” You bobbed your head quickly, “But I will…” Your eyes rolled as your nails would leave claw marks in his skin, all while he smirked wildly at the idea of you coming any second just by the simple rubbings of his middle finger. 

“God, I’m going to have to have you be extra loud for me next time…I’m missing those moans…” Your second hand came to his leg beside you, tearing into the jean fabric as he scoffed against your cheek. 

“I’m only going to do one finger so you have a better chance at being quiet-”

“John B…” You whimpered as he would set a series of soft shushes against your ear as he penetrated you slowly with that thick finger, curving into a bend and finding THAT spot he knew well. The bumps and lifts from the tractor would periodically send his touch even deeper, even slipping away, either way, bringing you to moan in the discomfort of repressed satisfaction. 

“You can’t ride my hand this time, sweetheart-”

“Two, please, John B…two…” You turned your head to remain unheard by those in earshot, your grip of desperation continuing as he would only find amusement and humor in your struggles. 

“Only because you ask so pretty…” The relief of further pressure let you breathe a literal sigh of ease as  these fingers would pump into you, the pleasure allowed by his touch having sent you onto the verge of your release. 

“I can feel you tightening and I know you’re close, but you’ve gotta come quietly for me.”

“It feels so good…” You spoke behind clenched teeth as JJ suddenly noticed the way the blanket shifted, a look of judgment cast to John B, who would only smirk when your back arched from him. But being the dutiful friend he was, he would avert the other pogues attention to the opposite direction so you would be spared further embarrassment. 

“We don’t have a lot of time…” He groaned, taking you to the edge of the tractor where he could bend you over the ledge. JJ was asking the driver a multitude of questions, diverting any focus that may fall at you now to him, being as boisterous and obnoxious as ever as it allowed you the chance to utter some breathy pleas and moans as John B had you bent over his hand with his other grip came to your breast. Luckily, the path chosen by this trail was otherwise deserted, meaning you could broadcast that coming ‘o face’ without a worry of being seen by any passerbyers. 

“Feel good baby?”

“Oh my God, John B…” You mewled as he nodded towards you, a kiss to your neck sending your eyes into a roll as your fingers gripped around the fencing of the tractor’s trailer until your knuckles drew white. Once they had, his fingers interalced with his left hand, while his dominant one would remain steadfast to your sex. A thumb to your clit and two fingers pistoning into you, curving and teasing, until your repetitive pleas were enough for him to take sympathy on you. 

“Yeah, baby? You wanna come?”

“Please please please please….”

“Okay sweetheart, let me have it…let go for me…”

“I want you inside-” Your voice cut off as he had already held your skirt high enough to allow himself access to you, his cock slipping in effortlessly from the foreplay bringing perfect lubrication to the forefront. Meanwhile, JJ, Kie, and Pope were arguing over some of the crops, your mutual friends mostly ignorant to your motions, all except the blonde surfer, who was too distracting for anyone to notice you. 

“Fuck, the things you convince me of…” He chuckled before bottoming out inside of you. “I’ve gotta move slow but I won’t last long…damn pussy’s got me whipped enough to come on the spot-”

“I want you to come inside me…” You groaned as he growled behind you. 

“Then clench for me, sweetheart.” You nodded, doing so, as these small motions would be enough to bring you both to that precipice. The join of rough patches of earth bringing him deeper inside of you would bring your fingers tighter around the wood as an outlet for the sounds you couldn’t express as he would use your shoulder and neck for his own source of muffling his moans. 

“John B-”

“I’m close baby, come with me.” He grunted, his motions swift but deep as you would feel him spill into you, your own slick joining with his as he would pull out of you as Kie would reference you two. 

“Shit, are you two okay?” Due to this angle, it appeared as if you were preparing to get sick, something added by the grip he held in your hair, a more lecherous of intentions having appeared innocuous to them. 

“I feel better…” You validated to everyone as he would fix your skirt, leaving each of them to understand what had transpired, but none of them were willing to comment. Instead, they would endure the rest of the ride in awkward silence as you wrapped yourself in John B’s arms, all while JJ flashed a shit-eating grin that you couldn’t understand the reason behind. Unaware that he had ‘helped’ this moment transpire for you two. 

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

#john b fanfiction #john b x reader #john b routledge #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks #obxsmut #obx fanfiction