#hunter and echo are the most baby crazy no i will not be taking questions

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

Bad Batch/Rebels Hunter x Pregnant Reader

Alright guys I am able to catch up a little bit and this has been on the back burner. Training horses, Running a Farm, Exercising and working five days a week at an Animal Clinic is too much. Hope you all enjoy this and I won’t lie I teared up with this one. I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters.

When you wake up there is a young blonde woman in her late teens standing there. She introduces herself as Omega and that she had been looking for you for years. Omega explains how you were frozen in cryo before Order 66, and that she is going to take you to a planet where you will be safe. She looks familiar to you, but you can’t place it. She asks who the father gesturing to your round stomach and you tell her about Hunter and how he didn’t even get to know you were pregnant. 

“So are you going to look for him?”, she questions. “I wouldn’t even know where to look besides if what you say is true he could be…”, you trail off as tears threaten to spill. No you won’t think of what you were about to say. It was better believing if he did go out it wasn’t working for the Empire. “Well I have a place for you to stay if you trust me enough”, she smiled. “I trust you. Let's get going”, you reply. The flight is a long one and Omega asks you to tell her stories about how you had met Hunter and the Bad Batch.

“Well I was working as a healer traveling from planet to planet, and I was asked by General Kenobi to help on some planet I forget the name of. Anyway late at night they bring Wrecker in and he is this big guy, but a giant softie. He needed medical attention right away, but no one was able to help so I took it upon myself to help him. When I got over to the cot they had him on he was thrashing. It took Crosshair, Tech, Hunter and Echo to help hold him down. When I told them to let him up they all looked at me as if I were crazy”, you smiled at the memory.

“So what happened next?”, Omega questioned childlike. “They eventually let him up and I used the force to help calm him. Hunter was the most astonished at how I was able to diffuse the situation and heal his brother. It was after healing his brother that I got dizzy and collapsed. I had been healing all day and my body couldn’t handle it anymore. Hunter was the one who carried me to General Kenobi, and helped get proper medical attention. Then I was stationed with the Bad Batch for the rest of the war after that because I was able to get along with them so well”, you recalled.

“So how did you get separated? How did you find out you were pregnant? Why didn’t you tell Hunter you were pregnant?”, Omega asked all in one breath. “I was captured by the seppies and placed in one of their many prisons. When I could feel the life force inside me I knew what would happen to our baby, and I made a promise that I wouldn’t let that happen. I escaped and stayed on the run then I crashed on the planet you found me on and I put myself in cryo hoping someone would eventually find us. I did search for the whereabouts of Hunter and the others, but things were happening way too fast, and when you have a hard time catching your breath after only walking a couple of yards it's hard to gauge what you're capable of”, you told her. 

She seemed to understand and went to make some food. You knew it was dangerous, but you wondered if Hunter was still alive. If you could sense him with the force. Closing your eyes you focused on what you remembered his life force feeling like. Not finding it you tried harder until you felt a small life force that felt like his. You latched onto it trying to boost it somehow, but just as you were making out the life form and their surroundings, sharp kicks broke your concentration. 

Your hand automatically going to your round belly, and trying to breathe. “Hey are you alright?”, Omega asked worriedly. “Yeah it’s been a while since they have kicked that hard”, you huffed. “They?”, Omega brightened. “Yes I’m carrying twins. A boy and a girl”, you smile. “How do you know? If you don’t mind me asking”, she sheepishly grinned. “The way their life force flows tells me”, you smile. “Do you want to feel them kicking?”, you asked. She nodded her head and you took her hands and held them to your belly. 

As soon as her hands touched you the babies started to kick wildly as if they sensed something you didn’t. “Wow, does it hurt?”, she queried. “Sometimes if they have good aim which seems to be all the time. They must get that from their father he had deadly accuracy with a blaster or vibroblade”, you laughed. Omega gave you some food and you were able to eat in peace. It wasn’t long before the planet proximity alert went off in the ship and you waited for Omega to land the ship. 

Once she landed you both made your exit and there were five quaint little houses. One of the doors to one of the houses opened and out stepped a behemoth of a man. One you recognized by the force right away. “WRECKER!’ you yelled as he made his way to you. He picked you up hugging you just like old times then set you back down gently. He was older than you remembered, but he still looked fit. “Wait till the others get a look at you”, Wrecker boomed. 

“The others? You mean… You mean that the others are here. What about Hunter is he here?” you frantically questioned. “Well yeah of course he is here. Even Crosshair came with us after we removed his chip”, he relayed. You started to hyperventilate as it all came to you that they were all okay and that they made it through Order 66. You swayed and your world started to go black as you felt Wrecker catch you. You could faintly hear other voices that you recognized. 

You were carried to a bed where you were placed as you heard a commotion. “She will be fine, she just needs a moment. She is obviously distressed and with everything that's happened and her condition this is a normal reaction”, someone said. Tech your brain answered and when you reached out with the force you could sense Tech, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair, but not Hunter where was Hunter your brain screamed. You felt a sense of calm from the twins and it helped you to relax. When you opened your eyes sure enough Tech, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair stood before you.

They all had aged Tech with some gray tufts at the small portion of his forehead. Echo with more wrinkles than you remembered, Crosshair had more crinkles around his eyes, Wrecker did as well. “(Y/N) can you hear me?”, Tech asked. “Yeah Tech I can hear you”, you said tearing up and this time they did fall. Once they knew you were okay you told them about how Omega had found you and they told you of what happened after Order 66. That Omega was their sister and a clone herself which now made sense of why she felt familiar to you.

They informed you that Hunter was okay, and that he would be back later as he had to tend to some fences that went down. Farmers of all things you expected them to do after farming was not one of them. They took you to Hunters home and showed you around and you cried again when you saw all of the mementos that he had of you. “He never stopped looking for you until we had to go into hiding and even then he hoped you would find us”, Echo told you.

They left you to get settled and wait for Hunter to return. It was getting late, but you decided that making dinner would be a great way to welcome Hunter home. Gathering ingredients you started cooking. Omega came in to help you since she stayed with Hunter because they weren’t finished with her house yet. You and Omega were making final meal preps when you felt a presence in the room behind you. You spun around to be met with Hunter's wide eyes on you. 

He still had his signature hair and bandana although he had some gray streaks starting at his temples, but otherwise still handsome as ever. “Hunter”, you whispered, but his hearing picked it up. He was across the room in seconds enveloping you in an almost bone crushing hug. “(Y/N) I thought I had lost you”, he sobbed. “I thought I had lost you”, you cried right along beside him. You gasped as the babies kicked wildly again this time harder than the other times. 

Hunter pulled back as you gripped his shoulder and your free hand went to your stomach. That's when he realized how round you were. “(Y/N) you're pregnant”, he whispered. “Yeah tell me something I don’t know”, you laughed. “Who’s?”he asked, looking defeated. “They are yours”, you responded. “Mine but how? You should have had them a long time ago”, he stated, confused. Omega butted in explaining how you were in a cryo chamber when she found you and you explained how you found out you were pregnant after being captured.  

Once all the evidence was before him he picked you up and spun you around. He stopped to kiss you. You giggled as the babies kicked again. “They know who you are, they are kicking again”, you smiled, placing his hands on your belly. His face lit up when he felt them kicking then his brows furrowed. “You said they”, he stated. “Yes there are two in there”, you explained. “Two? Twins? You're pregnant with twins?”, he grinned. “Yes a boy and a girl”, you beamed. 

He sniffled as he fell to his knees kissing your stomach, “You don’t know how much I missed your mother and now she gifts me with you two”, he mumbles between tears. The babies kick again and he places his head on your belly smiling when he can hear your heartbeat and the twins heartbeats. “They are strong”, he hums. “Just like their father”, you tell him. That night Hunter doesn’t leave your side and dotes on you hand and foot.

A couple months later you're awakened by awful cramps and that's when you realize you have gone into labor. Hunter was up as soon as he could smell your fear and your heart rate increase. You both had prepared for this and before long Omega and the others were waiting outside the house. It was long before the first cries filled the house and Hunter was telling you it was the girl placing her on your chest. Her brother followed minutes behind his sister. 

“We never did decide on names?”, Hunter said while watching them feed and beaming with pride. “I think we should name the boy (B/N)”, you smiled. “I like that name, for his sister, how about (G/N)”, Hunter said. You both agreed on the names and once they had their fill and you were decent Hunter let the others come in to greet the new additions. Omega was thrilled to hold them and so were the others. Crosshair refused to admit he cried while holding the twins for the first time even though Wrecker pointed out the tears still on his face.

A couple nights down the road you were woken up by Hunter singing and rocking them both back to sleep. You watched and smiled when his gaze met yours. Once the twins were asleep he made his way back into bed pulling you into his side. Kissing the top of your head and whispering how he couldn’t be happier than he was to have you back and then you gifting him with the greatest treasure of the galaxy far far away.

#star wars bad batch #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #pregnancy #Bad Batch #tbb omega

[redrobin-detective]

all is well

Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped into the next room I am I and you are you Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. ~ Henry Scott Hollard

AO3 link

______________

He hadn’t meant to say it, that much was clear. As much as she wanted to hate him for it, claim it was some sort of cruel manipulation; she knew he was just as distressed as she was. The ghost boy had covered his mouth, bright green eyes wide with panic as his misspoken words brought their battle to a screeching halt. Even the ghost the three hunters had been fighting stopped and stared before flying off. No one moved to stop them. Phantom looked at her fearfully, then over at her companion before vanishing without a trace.

It was a slip of the tongue, an accident, so why did the ghost boy calling her Mom make her blood run so cold?

“I’ve knew a kid who called the teacher Mom one time but I’ve never heard it from a ghost,” the Red Huntress said with a sarcastic chuckle. But her shoulders were tense and it was clear the situation made her uncomfortable too. “You okay, Mrs. Fenton?”

“My son isn’t dead,” Maddie said quietly. She would admit there were times where she’d look at Phantom and see Danny overlaid on top of him but those moments were becoming more and more rare. Maddie liked to think it’s because she could find more differences than similarities between the two but honestly, she couldn’t say who her son was anymore. She saw this damned ghost more than she saw the child living in her own house.

“I know, I’ve seen him around,” Huntress said with steady conviction. It made Maddie pause, as it always did, to wonder just how old Amity’s other human ghost hunter really was. Or how young rather. “It was a mistake, he’ll probably avoid you for a bit out of embarrassment but then things will go back to normal.”

“Yeah, a mistake,” Maddie muttered to herself, finally lowering the gun even though the fighting had ended several minutes ago. Why was this whole thing so unsettling to her? Phantom had said much worse things to her, called her a fake scientist and more obsessive than a ghost. He’d even called her a bad mother once when he’d been particularly riled up. She remembered how offended and angry his unnatural eyes had been as they’d glared accusingly into her.  

“You know his parents are still alive,” Huntress said suddenly. “I found out by accident a little while ago.” She was still standing on her hoverboard about 3 feet off the ground, her gaze was trained away from Maddie. “They don’t know that he’s a ghost, that he’s Phantom,” the girl’s head was still turned away from Maddie but she had a feeling she was being watched none the less. “Maybe you remind him of his mother.”

Maddie felt liked she’d been slapped.

“And why does that matter to you?” she questioned defensively to cover how much the conversation was shaking her - they didn’t know how could they not know, how could they not miss - “I thought you hated him as much as we did.”

“I don’t like him,” the Huntress said vehemently. “He’s annoying and acts like he’s the only hunter in this town who can actually do the job. But I,” she paused, “I think I understand him, just a little bit. Enough that I’ve been combing through Amity’s missing children files in my spare time. Of course, it’s no good if no one reported him missing in the first place. Phantom doesn’t want me prying but it’s not right for a kid to die and no one to care.”

“He’s just a ghost,” Maddie said, her words weak even to her ears. Was that why Phantom was stuck here? Because he died forgotten and unmourned? The thought of one of her children, her babies, dying without her knowing... she was going to be sick.

“Yeah, he is,” Huntress nodded, “but he wasn’t always. And humans deserve to be remembered, even if they don’t want to be.” That said, the girl sped off into the setting sun, the varying shades of orange glinting off of her suit. Maddie stood in the middle of the street for a little while longer, gun pointed limply at the ground as her whole world spun.

She drove home slowly, taking the long way around to try and put her conflicting feelings into words before she talked to her husband. When she and Jack first began their research into ghosts, they told themselves that they had to divorce themselves from the people the ghosts had been before. If you focused on the lingering traces of humanity in every monster then they would never be put in their place. But she was human and she had kids around the ghost boy’s age, despite her attempts to stick to logic her heart ached with sympathy.

“And you call yourself a mother,” the Phantom in her memory spat at her, filled with hatred but underneath it all was grief. “Where are your kids now? All you care about is the dead but when are you going to care for the living?” Maddie tightened her grip on the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking.

“Mads! You’re home!” Jack grinned enthusiastically as she quietly entered the house. “Jazzy has her nose in her books and you know Danny, in and up to his room without a word so I made us grilled cheese!” He held her a plate with a flourish, “they’re ghost shaped!” The world tilted itself a little more onto it’s proper axis, no matter how crazy things got, Jack would always be her true north.

“Gracias,” she said accepting the plate. “Can we talk, privately?” She gestured her head down to the basement. Conversations from the kitchen could easily be heard upstairs and she really didn’t want her children to overhear her asking if she was a bad mom. She didn’t want their confirmation that she was right.

Jack’s goofy grinned smoothed out into something softer and he put one hand gently on her back as they walked down to basement. He kicked her usual stool her way and they sat in silence while they ate their dinners, staring at the swirling vortex of the portal.

“You remember that time Phantom called me a neglectful mother?” Maddie asked quietly after a few minutes.

“Mads, you can’t let that sneaky spook get to you. Everyone knows you’re a great-”

“Jack,” she interrupted harsher than she needed to but she didn’t need comfort from a husband but the unbiased opinion of a fellow scientist. “He accidentally called me Mom while we were fighting today, I don’t - I don’t think he meant it, he looked more scared then I’ve ever seen him before he ran off. Huntress was there too, she said.” Maddie gripped her plate tightly in her hands. “She said that Phantom’s family is still alive, that they don’t know about him.”

“Not know? You mean about him being-”

“Apparently,” Maddie squeezed her eyes shut to fight off the unwanted sympathy she felt. “He’s always been the Ghost Boy, the Ghost Kid. I never - I never fully absorbed what that meant. He looks,” Maddie set the plate aside and dropped her head into her hands. “He’s about Danny’s age.”

“Maddie,” Jack said softly, setting aside his own plate and wheeling himself closer. “Whoever that boy was, he’s gone now and all that’s left is an echo, an obnoxious and powerful echo but he’s not... he’s not a child. Not anymore.”

“But he remembers,” Maddie gasped, angry she was letting herself get all worked up over a stupid ghost. “He called me Mom, Jack. Huntress, she said maybe I reminded him of her and,” her eyes filled with tears now. “He’s comparing me to someone who didn’t even notice that he’d died. What does that say about me? About my relationship with our children? I feel like all I do is argue with Jazz these days and god knows where Danny goes to half the time-”

“Maddie, don’t do that to yourself,” Jack said softly, tilting her face up towards him with a gloved hand. “Once you go down that rabbit hole, there’s no digging yourself out. I think it’s just part of being a parent, always worrying that you’re not doing things right. Sometimes,” Jack gaze dropped, troubled. “Sometimes I enter the room and Danny looks at me and freezes like he expects me to do something terrible... He’s just easily startled but it still hurts.”

“Phantom is an echo, not a child,” Maddie nodded quietly to herself, trying to fall back on her usual logic but it tasted wrong in her mouth. He was a ghost... but also a child. “I wonder what he was like when he was alive? His personality seems remarkably preserved, he must have been a vibrant young man.”

“Or his death was particularly traumatic,” Jack mumbled. “Painful deaths usually leave powerful ghosts. And most healthy teens don’t just drop dead for nothing.”  A chill fell over the lab.

“How could they not notice?” Maddie whispered with horror. “What sort of parent wouldn’t see that their child was dead, what? Now two years in?”

“Not everyone is as good a mom as you are, Mads,” Jack said, pulling her into his chest. “Neglectful parents are a dime a dozen sadly. He could’ve been a runaway too, ran off and died leaving his folks still holding out hope that he’d come home. Or maybe...” he frowned, “maybe he’s pretending he’s still alive.”

“No, he couldn’t keep the charade for this long,” Maddie gasped but the horrible idea had been planted none the less. Phantom always seemed in such a hurry, like he had somewhere else to be. Was another woman tapping her feet as she waited for her boy to return like Maddie often did, not knowing her child was long gone?

“He’s a wily one, incredibly solid for a spirit. Sometimes I look at him and swear I see his chest moving like he’s breathing. Dampen his glow, dye the hair, change his clothes, he could probably pass as human so long as you didn’t look too close.”

“Jack,” she pulled back and looked at her husband in a panic. “Jack, if he’s pretending to be human when he’s not fighting then there’s a good chance he goes to Casper.” Her and Jack’s eyes widened with realization at the same time.

Their children’s high school has had an unprecedented amount of ghost attacks since the portal opened. They could never figure out why the ghosts targeted that school and ignored the other elementary, middle or even the other public high, Wendy. “What are we going to do, should we pull out Danny and Jazz? Even just until we figure this out.”

“That might tip the ghost off,” Jack said evenly but his teeth were biting into his cheek with worry. “We don’t want to set him off, who knows what he’d do if his cover was blown.” He might look like a harmless teen but Maddie had seen first hand how devastating Phantom could be when threatened. “I think we should tell the kids.”

“What? Why? You know they’re supportive of him!” Well Jazz certainly was, differing opinion on Phantom seemed to be the cause of half their arguments. Danny, truthfully, she didn’t really know his opinions on the ghost boy. He always looked so uncomfortable talking about ghosts with them so they just didn’t.

“Supportive maybe but they’re smart and observant,” Jack countered. “They could be our eyes and ears inside the school. They know better than to provoke a dangerous ghost,” Jack let his eyes drift over to the portal. “Besides, if the worst comes to pass, I want them to be prepared.”

“I don’t like it but you’re probably right,” Maddie grumbled. “If it keeps them safe then I’d do just about anything.” Jack smiled and leaned forward to kiss her gently, his lips a perfect match for her own.

“And this is why you could never be a bad mother,” he said. “Come on, let’s talk to them before they go to sleep.”

“Or Danny sneaks out again,” Maddie said to herself as she followed her husband up the stairs and heard him call for a Fenton family meeting.

It went about as well as Maddie had expected. Jazz alternated between being angry and anxious, telling them emphatically that Phantom wasn’t hiding among them at school and wasn’t a bad ghost to begin with. Maddie didn’t know what had come over her but she hardly recognized this irrational and emotional young lady as her daughter. She hoped it was just Senior year stress and hormones and not some ghostly influenced. Danny, as usual, sat there like he was a piece of the furniture and didn’t say much at all.

“Danno,” Jack said gently as he interrupted Jazz’s rant to engage their youngest. “You would tell us if you noticed anything unusual with one of your classmates, right? You know we’re telling you kids this because we trust you, love you and want to keep you safe.”

“Have you considered that keeping guns around the house, threatening to hunt and torture ghosts doesn’t make me feel very safe?” Danny said quietly, looking down at the table. “So what if he sometimes goes to school, maybe he wants to have something normal in his life. All I know is that if I was Phantom, maybe I would want to hide too. So people like you didn’t find me.” For the second time that night, the words of a teenage boy stopped her cold.

“Danny, what do you-” Danny didn’t elaborate and instead pushed his chair back and headed towards the door.

“Young Man, where are you going? It’s almost curfew and we’re not done here,” Maddie scolded even though she knew that neither her or Jack were in the control of the situation. Danny opened the door and didn’t look back.

“I won’t be long, just a lap around the block. I just, I just need some air, okay?” The house became quiet, no one quite knowing what to say. Jazz excused herself a moment later and walked back up to her room. She slammed her door shut. The ticking of the clock was the only sound to be heard in the suddenly silent kitchen.

“Is that how he sees us?” Jack asked quietly, looking down at his large hands. “Danny used to think what we did was so cool, when did that change?” When did he change? was the silent, unasked question. Or maybe they'd all changed, grown apart so slowly that no one had really noticed. Maddie stood up abruptly and stalked towards the door, strapping an ectogun to her hip as she went.

“Mads, maybe you should give him-”

“You know as well as I do that this is the peak time for ghosts. Danny, he might not trust us but I won’t let a disagreement get him killed.” It was full dark outside and she was halfway down the block before she realized she didn’t know which direction Danny had gone in. The night air was chill for mid-April as it shook off the last dregs of winter. She was feeling cold in her protective hazmat; Danny had left in short sleeves. Maybe she should run back and get his jacket for when she found him.

“Nice night for a walk,” Maddie jumped at the voice to find Phantom lazily floating in the air above her. His posture was casual but his eyes were sharp, searching as he always was. Green eyes glanced at her gun before meeting her eyes. “Looking for someone? Perhaps chasing someone who doesn’t want to found?” No way was she going to let him know her son was out here, alone and vulnerable.

“You actually,” she lied. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow but didn’t call her out. How could he be so expressive and so hard to read all at once? Against her better judgement, she thought again about the ghost as a human. “You called me Mom earlier, I want to know why.”

“What, you’ve never called someone something dumb by mistake?” Phantom flinched, crossing his arms defensively. “It was an accident, I’m just as upset as you are, believe me. Now if you don’t mind, I was trying to have a nice flight to clear my mind. Good luck finding whoever you were really looking for.”

“My husband thinks you’re pretending to be alive, that you’re lying to the town, going to school.” She searched his face for some sign that she was wrong but his expression was still as stone. “You’re putting people in jeopardy, I thought you wanted to play the hero!”

“I’m not doing anything,” He growled, his eyes flashing ominously in the dark. “I’m just doing the best I can, okay? If I go to the Nasty Burger or sit in on English Poetry when there’s no ghosts to fight then who’s hurt? Only me for trying to hang onto something real, something normal!”

“But the ghosts-”

“News flash! The ghosts would be here with or without me because of your stupid portal! I can’t even legally drive and yet you blame me for everything.” He scoffed and looked away, “you really are just like my mother.”

“So I do remind you of her,” she stated. “Your mother.”

“That’s a great thing to say to some kid you shoot at regularly,” Phantom said, icily, his green gaze boring into her over his shoulder. “What do you want me to say? Yeah, you do. It’s not just your voice or your face but the way you look at me like I’m nothing but a disappointment. How you make me feel like I’m some damaged child you need to hammer into shape.”

“You can’t - I’m not disappointed,” she said before she could think otherwise because how else could she react to such a charged statement? What kind of abusive, miserable home had he come from? Her heart clenched again to be compared to this woman.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Phantom snapped at her sarcastically but, like the time when he’d called her a bad mother, underneath the anger was sadness. “None of this matters, we’re both going to keep doing our own thing without each other’s approval. We’re enemies so let’s just forget this all happened and go back to you shooting at me while I beg for you just stop and listen for one second-”

“Alright, I’m listening!” Maddie shouted back, frustrated and sympathetic against her better judgement. “What is it you want to tell me so bad?” Phantom froze, like he hadn’t expected her to just stop like that. His shoulders hunched and his eyes were wide and he looked so much like a lost teenager that it pulled painfully at her heart. God, why did this one ghost bring out so many contradictory feelings in her?

“I want,” he stopped, swallowed and floated to the ground so they were near eye level. Sometime in the last year, he’d gotten taller than her. She hadn’t realized ghosts could grow, could age. Phantom was always the exception to every rule they had. “I want the same thing you want. I don’t like seeing ghosts coming through and hurting people. Before I was Phantom, I was nobody, I couldn’t help anyone. I can now and keeping people safe, it gives me a purpose I didn’t even have when I was human. Ghosts might just be the untethered remnants of dead people but we still love and feel and value things, just differently than you do. I want to keep ghosts from attacking people but without damaging them, we’re not all evil just... trying to find our own way to the finish line. If you’d just, not attack on sight, I could show you.”

It was perhaps the most she’d heard Phantom say all at once. He was rubbing his gloved fingers anxiously against his thigh and there was a desperate bit of want in his tragically young face. He wanted her to believe him, like a child looking to their mother for approval. As more time stretched on without her speaking, his hopeful look fell into a kind of sad acceptance. He looked like Danny had at the kitchen table not 15 minutes before.

“Okay,” she said finally. “We can give it a try for a bit. It’s not a truce exactly but so long as you’re not causing harm, Jack and I won’t shoot at you.” It wasn’t much but the boy looked like he’d handed her the moon and then some. He floated up a little, his boots jittered with excitement. She gaped when he reached forward and grasped her hand only to shake it enthusiastically. His hand was chilled but solid in her own.

“Yeah, you got a deal! Don’t worry, Mo- Ma’am you won’t have to worry about me, I’ll be a good little ghost, scouts honor! not that I was, uh, ever in the scouts. If things go well, I’d be happy to tell you more about ghosts and the Zone. I’ll even give you a tour if you’d like.” His smile was infectious and she bit her lip to resist the natural urge to smile back.

Maybe Phantom was a ghost, a sad child who’d died far too young but he was also someone’s son. That woman, however, hadn’t been able to protect him, to support him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give the ghost boy a chance and maybe Maddie could fill in something his other mother couldn’t. Perhaps she could even learn how to give her own children what they needed too.

“We’ll see,” Maddie hummed. “Now, you were going to go flying and I need to find my son before he catches his death, that is, if he’ll even talk to me.”

“He will,” Phantom said softly. “My mom messed up, hurt me sometimes but I knew she loved me and I love her. I don’t know your son but I do know what it’s like to be a son and your mom is... whether you’re living, dead or in-between, she’s always your mom. Maybe he’s worried you won’t love him, the things he’s done or believes in.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “Of course, I don’t really know you and your family. Usually try and avoid you guys, being ghost hunters and all. Even your daughter is pretty scary.”

“That would be pretty weird, a ghost surrounded by hunters,” her lips twitched upwards despite herself as she imagined Phantom chatting with Jack and Jazz in the living room. The image wasn’t quite as strange as she’d initially thought. Who knows where this shaky truce would lead them? Phantom took that as his excuse to leave and flew off into the night. Maddie watched him go, she started up the block when she got a series of texts a few minutes later.

Danny: I’m home, sorry for running off like that Danny: I don’t like the way you talk about ghosts the way some people talk about race or gender. I want to make opinions based on facts and understanding, not half baked theories Danny: I’d be willing to talk more, if you’d stop being so stubbornly certain you’re right and just listened for a change Danny: I love you, Mom I don’t think I say that enough. Sometimes I feel scared to, like you won’t understand Danny: Jazz came down and Dad brought out the special fudge Danny: Come home, its cold out

Maddie brought her phone to her lips, looking up in the sky as if she might see Phantom still flying around. That boy still loved his mother, the mother who’d hurt him. She didn’t want to be like Phantom’s mom: distant, cruel, unwilling to listen. If she could hold out an olive branch for her enemy, then she certainly could for her son.

Mom: I love you too, baby, never doubt that. I think I'm ready to listen now. Mom: I’m on my way home, save some fudge for me.

I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, Just around the corner. All is well.

#danny phantom #my writing #this seriously came out of nowhere #it took several twists as it just kind of unfurled underneath me #was halfheartedly searching poems about death when I foung this one #it just jumped out like lightning to me #that even though death and circumstance have seperate Maddie and Danny #they're still connected #still mother and son for good or ill #there's love there and a chance for renewal #idk Im just tired #this has been written for like 3 hours its just taken me this damn long to edit

[soft-din]

i’ve been the archer (i’ve been the prey)

summary: You have been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while, and one day you notice something that will change the course of your relationship forever.

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

warnings: None that I can think of! It’s just a fluffy soulmate AU.

word count: 1.9k

ao3 | masterlist

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now. It sometimes seemed like it had been forever since you had been alone without the elusive warrior and his little green son at your side. As you sat in the cockpit of the Razor Crest and watched Mando pilot his ship to some new destination, you couldn’t help but admire him. You had to admit that after some time of this lifestyle - going system to system as Mando hunted his bounties and you helped with his child - you had come to care for the man in beskar in a way that transcended partnership or friendship. But in a world where one’s soulmate was dictated by a tattoo on their body that the person meant for them shared, it was difficult to start a relationship, especially without knowing who they themselves were destined for. You sighed a little, adjusting the small child in your lap and catching a glimpse of the hand where your own special tattoo was. It was in the shape of a target, and placed in between your thumb and forefinger.

You were taken out of your thoughts by the piloting Mandalorian. “We’re gonna touch down for repairs soon. Nothing major this time; I should be able to take care of it.”

“Okay,” you replied. “Where are we stopping?”

“Nevarro.”

Upon hearing this information, your mind immediately recalled the day you and Mando had met, which was on the very same planet. You allowed yourself to fall into the memories.

*****

It had been a spring afternoon, the weather nice if a bit warm. You worked at a cantina on Nevarro, serving customers and trying to keep your head down. Even though you were new there, you knew it was a shady joint, frequented by ruthless bounty hunters looking for their next job. But sometimes, a person has to do what they have to do to get money, and this was as good a place as any for that. That fateful day, the Mandalorian walked into the cantina, and once you got over the shock of seeing a real life Mandalorian, full armor and all, you were charmed by the small companion with him.

He sat down next to a man who you had often seen here, giving the hunters their work. You had heard him be referred to as Greef Karga, who then called you over to take his order. When you did so, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the green baby in the pram next to the table.

“Is he yours?” you asked the Mandalorian, being friendly purely on instinct and not thinking about how he would react.

The man had nodded after a moment of silence. “Yeah, he is. A foundling.”

“How sweet,” you said, putting two fingers into the floating pram to gently pet the child’s head. “What’s his name?”

“Grogu.”

“Hi Grogu,” you cooed.

Karga then cleared his throat, interrupting your baby talk. “So, to business. Long time no see, Mando.”

You took that as your cue to leave, your face flushing slightly in embarrassment as you walked back to the bar you were supposed to be working at. Even after the adorable child and his Mandalorian father had left the cantina, you couldn’t help but smile at how cute Grogu had been.

A few hours later, you were just about to start wrapping up your shift when the Mandalorian came back. This time, however, he didn’t sit down to talk with Karga, who had also gone by now. He approached you instead, the child still with him. 

“How can I help you?” you asked curiously as you wiped down the counter in front of you.

“Are you good with kids?” he said, answering with a question of his own. 

You were a bit taken aback, but responded easily nonetheless. “Yes, I think so. I’ve always had a connection to the little ones. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve been looking for another crew member. Someone to help take care of Grogu. I can’t always take him with me when I go hunting.”

Was he asking you to join him? To essentially be a live-in babysitter? You considered the offer. You really had nothing to lose, and his son was absolutely precious. Looking back, you couldn’t have stopped your next words from leaving your mouth even if you’d tried. 

“I’m in.”

*****

That had been months ago, and now you were in deeper than you ever expected to be. The Mandalorian could often be cold and quiet, but over time he had started showing you a softer side of himself, a side that he usually only reserved for Grogu. He would check on you every night without fail before he went to bed, just to make sure you were okay. There were times when you would swear that his helmet had been looking in your direction before you turned to see and he looked back again. It was this part of him that made you glad that you had accepted his offer, and it was this part of him that made you realize that you cared for him - maybe even more than you knew.

Now that you were touched down on Nevarro for repairs, you scooped up the child and stood. “I’m gonna go stretch my legs for a while,” you told Mando. “I can take the kid with me, and I’ll be back soon.”

He nodded in your direction and you set off, happy to be distracted from your thoughts and breathing in the fresh air. Before you left, you saw the Mandalorian begin on his repairs outside the ship, trying to see what was wrong with it this time. You smiled a secret smile at the sight.

After you finished your walk, you returned to the Crest, holding Grogu and still grinning. But when you approached the vessel, you saw a sight that you never expected to see.

Mando was still working on the ship, but his gloves were off, presumably to allow him to work easier. It was the most exposed skin you had ever seen from him, and you couldn’t help but admire them a little before realizing something. He had a tattoo.

It was in the shape of a target, and placed in between his thumb and forefinger.

Oh. Oh. This meant something that you had admittedly considered, but never really thought could be a reality: the Mandalorian was your soulmate. Though you liked to think you knew him pretty well after all your time traveling together, there was still so much to learn. Not for the first time, you wondered what he looked like when he rolled his eyes or smiled or any other number of expressions. And now, the day that you would find those things out suddenly seemed closer than ever. Taking yourself out of your thoughts, you decided to wait til Mando was done repairing the Crest before saying anything. But then what would you say? That thought echoed in your mind as you finished walking up the ramp of the Crest, still holding the kid.

You and Grogu entered the cockpit, and you sat down with him. “Okay, little one,” you said, chatting to him as you always did. “When your buir gets back inside, I’m gonna tell him what I saw. I don’t know what he’ll say, but I’m sure it’ll end up fine,” you said, not sure if you were convincing him or yourself. He cooed up at you, as if he could understand what you were saying.

After several more minutes of this, you decided to lay the womp rat down for a nap as he had started to look sleepy. Once you returned to the cockpit alone you sat down and laid back in your chair, intending to relax and calm your thoughts before the Mandalorian came back. It wasn’t long before he did, joining you in the pit.

“The ship’s fixed well enough,” he said, the sound of his voice causing your heartbeat sped up even more than usual. “It should get the job done, for a while at least.”

You nodded, sitting up straighter in your chair. “Great. The kid’s taking a nap right now; he was getting tired.”

“Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you realized now was as good a time as any to try to tell him what you had seen. “Hey Mando?”

“Hmm?” he hummed in reply, making his way to the pilot chair.

“I, um, need to talk to you. When I came back from my walk with Grogu, I...well, I saw something. Something you need to know about.”

The Mandalorian’s footsteps halted. “What was it?”

Just spit it out, you thought to yourself. “I...I saw your hands. You had taken the gloves off to work. And...I saw your soulmate tattoo.”

Mando let out a breath, the sound echoing through the modulator of his helmet. “Is that all? You don’t need to worry about that, people see each other’s tats all the time…”

“But it was the same as mine.”

That caused the Mandalorian to reconsider what you had just said completely. If it was the same as yours, then that could only mean one thing. And even the idea of that one thing caused him to feel something in his chest that he wasn’t used to feeling. It was a pleasant sensation, one that, in recent times, he had only ever really felt for the kid, and you as well. He always assumed it didn’t mean anything, that it just meant he cared about you, but hearing you admit what you had seen made the feeling blossom in him as if it were an explosion.

After hearing nothing but silence for a few moments, you spoke again. “I think we’re soulmates, Mando. As crazy as it may seem, our tattoos are the same. We’re...tied to each other, in a way. Maybe you inviting me on your crew was the universe’s way of getting us together.”

The Mandalorian turned to face you completely. “You...you don’t have to call me Mando. It’s Din. You should know that.”

Hearing this information caused something to stir inside you, as if the stars themselves were aligning. “Is that your name?”

“Yes. My name is Din Djairn.”

The name sounded as sweet as honey coming from his rich voice, and you smiled widely. “That’s a nice name. It fits you.” Din chuckled, which caused your smile to grow even larger. You then showed him your hand, specifically the target shaped ink there. “See how they’re the same? I always wondered why mine looked like this; it never really felt like me, you know? But it all makes sense now, knowing that my soulmate is a Mandalorian,” you said, letting out a soft laugh. 

Din observed your hand for a moment before taking off his own gloves, pulling them off his fingers delicately and revealing his own tattoo. “You’re right. They are the same.” He then instinctively reached out with his bare hand to grab yours, and when he did so the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was if every missing puzzle piece in the galaxy had suddenly connected at the same time, and the person that would help you reconnect them once they fell apart again was right in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, Din Djarin,” you said, grinning and enjoying the way the name felt on your tongue. The mysterious man in front of you was suddenly so much more than your traveling partner. Now you knew that he was your soulmate, and you finally knew his name. The universe worked in strange ways, but you wouldn’t have it any other way as you sat there in the cockpit of the Razor Crest and looked forward to all the experiences you would have with Din in the future.

It was an adventure you were looking forward to more than anything.

#i'm yearning bye #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #my writing

[herstarburststories]

Wedding Dress

Kinktober day 13: Cunnilingus

Pairing: Domestic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is hiding under your wedding dress— he can have some fun while he's in there, right?

A/N: I'll admit that my mood isn't high today, and writing this one was kind hard at some point. So, @theicariantouch helped me a lot more than they usually already do and I'm so glad. Thank you, hon! This is co-written.

Warnings: oral sex (woman receiving), cute, kind public sex

“You look beautiful!”

You rolled your eyes at your mom's obvious lie, although the look on her face told you that she truly believed that adjective could be used properly there. Perhaps that was the 'perfect child' syndrome again when mothers saw their newborns — the unfinished, strange little creatures as they were — as the cutest beings in the galaxy. No one would have the heart to tell them that their baby looked like an old knee, and neither did you about the clearly ugly clothing.

The inordinately puffy dress was more beige than white with a massive bow laced to crown at the small of your back, no cleavage, and sequins embossed with an opalescent gleam trailing along the waistline. It wasn’t in an elegant way like Cinderella’s, but in the most démodé, antiquated manner possible. You'd never wear it for any party, much less your marriage — plus, you just tried it on because you imagined it'd be funny to twirl and watch the skirt flutter, maybe feel like a princess for a hot minute. 

There was something those movies didn’t tell you about the dresses like this, and that was the fact they were heavy. You only wore it for a couple of minutes, and you already wanted to cut it open with scissors and walk around naked for the rest of the day.

After all, this wasn't really your color.

You replaced your wrinkled nose with a playful grimace followed by a shrug. “I guess I'll try another. The siren cut one is really pretty.”

“I'll ask for them to get it.” She nodded, getting up to summon Cecilia — the unfortunate worker that had fetched at least fifteen different dresses for you by now — and the third glass of champagne for herself. She quickly got lost in the lavender-scented castle of dresses, high-classed scenery marked with the quiet lull of Celine Dion playing in the background. You scoffed, turning around to meet the mirror again just to make sure this one was a definite no until your eyes found something way more interesting.

Dean Winchester — the man you made a home out of — was looking at you through the large glass window. It was so easy to spot the smile on his face while he observed you with a lionized intensity as if you were his favorite movie that he couldn’t get enough of watching. Dean's vivid green eyes were almost glossy with adoration and loyalty — because that was the only way this magnetic man knew how to love. And he loved you; oh, how much he loved you and the life he never thought he'd get with you. That marvelously dazed look on his face almost fooled you into thinking that this was the right dress.

Sweetened seconds of longing looks soon shifted, changing into a frown of yours as Dean stepped into the fancy boutique. You moved your body to glance at him, the skirted ends of the dress dancing around your legs as the subtle woosh of fabric echoed. Fortunately, it seemed to break Dean's focus as well, his eyes now sharpened on your confused expression.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was out for lunch with Sammy, so I decided to drop in.” He smirked, approaching you. You placed your hands on your hips and glanced at him. Your bridal instinct — which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like your mom — screamed for you to cover yourself up, but what was the point? He had already seen it, and that definitely wouldn't be your dress.

Nonetheless, you arched your eyebrows and wore an accusative tone as you spoke, “You aren't supposed to see me in a wedding dress before our marriage, Winchester.”

“I don't believe that.” Dean rolled his eyes and placed his hands on your hips.

God, that puffy beige abomination had enough cushiony material to suppress the sensation of Dean's hands on you. Yep, big no.

Childish joy was spreading across your face with a beam as you put your arms around his neck. “You, of all people, a skeptic?”

The Winchester pulled you closer donning that lopsided grin that often made you want to drag him to the nearest bed, but, before he could even speak, you heard your mother's voice nattering to Cecilia about shades of white steadily growing louder. 

She would kill you and Dean both if she saw him there.

“Hide, now!” You pushed his chest only to gain a confused look from the retired hunter. “My mom's coming. You know how crazy she is about matrimonial traditions and whatever! You need to go, now!”

Dean gulped as though just now noticing your mom's echoing voice and high heels clicking against the floor. How was that more threatening than the howls of the werewolves he used to kill?

“Dean!” you pleaded when he didn't move.

He glanced at you with desperate eyes, suddenly paralyzed with fear. “What? I can't go through the front door, she'll see me!”

“Are you afraid of my mom?” you say incredulously, a frown abruptly sharpening your painted features. 

Dean glared at you in exhaustion. “You aren't?” 

“That's not the point!” You groaned. Dean seemed to finally catch up to the idea, abruptly making a beeline to the dressing room encircled with thick velvet curtains the color of spilled wine. “What are you doing?”

He gestured wildly, clearly with only one goal in mind: hide. “Getting in the dressing room!”

“All the others besides mine are occupied!” you hiss sharply, because you’ve been trying on gowns of all shapes and sizes long enough now to know the drill. You pointed to the ostentatiously large gown you were wearing. “They’ll see you once I go back in to change out of this.” 

Dean looked you up and down, a completely inappropriate smirk growing on his lips when you were about thirty seconds away from getting caught violating the imagined laws of matrimony. “I wouldn't mind seeing you change this. I can even help you to-”

“Dean!” you hissed as an idea struck. What else could you do? You weren't signing up for a two-hour-long lecture about the importance of tradition for your own wedding, but there was no other place you could hide Dean in. Your mom's voice was progressively getting closer and closer. What you did next was a desperate yet necessary measure. “Get under me.”

Dean's brows knitted together incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me! This thing is so big it’ll hide you,” you exclaimed in a lower tone than your nervousness desired, denoting the excessively billowy dress. You lifted the smoothly flared skirt just enough not to show your panties and barked: “Get inside, now!”

Dean shot you a wink before dutifully doing what he was told. “That's what she said.”

You just rolled your eyes at his muffled retort, beginning to question why you had agreed to marry him in the first place. 

It didn't take longer than ten seconds for your mom and Cecilia to pop up. The latter held a bundle of dresses in diversified shades of white before settling them on the Victorian-esque marble top table, sighing in relief at the final release of her admittedly heavy burden. 

“Honey, we brought you five siren cuts!” Your mom, though, had an excited smile on, already grabbing one of the many dresses and pushing it into your arms. “Try this!”

Cecilia gave you a friendly smile, gesturing to the long, silken dress you’d just been given. “This one is from Mattel's new collection.”

Dean shifted under your gown, his spiked hair tickling your leg. He was a big man, so you knew this was difficult for him too. You gulped, heart pounding like a drum inside of your chest while you tried to come up with a request to keep them away long enough for you to get rid of Dean.

Glancing around the classy room, your eyes caught a myriad of vibrantly colorful dresses swaying on a rack next to the wall of mirrors. This was it. This was your out.

Your gaze landed back on the two women in front of you. The icy current from the air conditioner combing through your hair didn't help the blood running cold in your veins. You swallowed the lump in your throat and wore your best poker face. 

Was this how Dean felt when he had to lie for a job when he was a hunter? You didn't know, but what you knew for sure was how his greedy fingers felt pulling your panties to the side when he was hiding under your improbably enormous wedding dress in the middle of an ostentatious clothing store.

“They all look so pretty,” you said, suppressing your scoff as Dean pecked your thigh, “but I was thinking about red ones?”

Cecilia opened her mouth to respond, but your mom was quicker. With a shocked expression and her hand resting dramatically on chest, she said: “Red?! That's not a color for a ceremony in the church.”

You were ready to offer her a swift retort as this was your wedding, not hers, but Dean's kisses kept rising higher and higher. Son of a bitch! You’d kill him if it didn't feel so good. You were already wet, momentarily losing track of space and time. Everything with him felt like the comfortable warmth of afterglow.

That is, until your mother brought you back down to earth with an admonishingly chide tone: “Y/N!”

“I just want to see how it fits me. Please.” You knew he was purposely ignoring your pussy, kissing near it but never getting to the point. You placed you hand on the part of the dress that his head would be, pushing him a little closer. The next word wasn’t meant for your entourage, but it made sense anyway: “Please.”

Cecilia curved the corner of her lips in sympathy. “Of course. We just got a new package a few days ago. I think they will fit you perfectly!”

Dean's lips kissed your heat. You bit your bottom lip to control a moan, summoning a nod interlaced with a tight smile for Cecilia. You doubted you were able to come up with anything else more coherent than Dean and more right now.

“I'll make sure it isn't too red!” You mom huffed, following the worker as she turned away to grab what you asked for.

Dean's hand held onto your leg as he started to lick in slowly, savoring your taste. He had to be controlling himself carefully, staving down his own desire to go deep and eat you out hungrily like he usually did.

You watched the pair leave, impatience fraying your scattered thoughts. You clenched down tightly, trying to force his tongue out of you as you waited for your mother to leave. Unfortunately, she stopped in the middle of the aisle to abandon Cecilia in favor of another worker swathed in a collection of bridal veils. Too risky. Maybe pushing him to the door would be better long term than having Dean to go down on you right now, but it certainly wouldn’t be as pleasurable. 

You decided to consider this one of the little adventures pre-marriage: the eldest Winchester was now licking his way inside you, fingertips sinking into your skin as he pressed his mouth and tongue against your wetness.

God, you loved that man.

“Thought you'd like to see some options without your mom.” Cecilia's voice out of nowhere almost made you jump, but you were able to restrain yourself. The fear of getting caught suddenly putting your body in place again, but Dean wasn't having any of it. As soon as you forced a giggle out to answer her, his mouth was on your pussy again.

“Yeah, she can be a little controlling.” You coughed. At least you could use the subject to excuse your discomfort.

You could practically feel Dean's smile on your pussy as he sucked your clit, wriggling his finger inside you. You pressed the hand on the other side of the thick curtain of fabric of his head down harder — for anyone else, it would look like this gesture coupled with your heated expression meant that the dress was uncomfortably hot.

At least, Cecilia thought so. With an understanding, saleswoman grin, she asked: “Do you want help to take the dress off?”

“No!” you almost screamed. It felt good to actually expel the noises you were withholding, even if it was on accident. “I mean, no. No, thank you. I'll take it off myself and try this red one — Can you keep my mom distracted for a couple minutes? She wouldn't like to see me in this.”

Coming up with a lie while your fiancé was sucking your clit and fingering you, checked.

“All for the bride.” Cecilia winked at you and left.

It took a couple seconds for you to regain some self control. With every ounce of willpower you had, you forced yourself to lift your dress and push Dean away from your trembling legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, glancing at his face. That idiot wore a cocky smile on and had the audacity to lick his lips.

“What? You can't tell me to get between your legs and not eat you out. I'm a good soon-to-be husband.” He winked.

“You're unbelievable.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Hurry up and make me come, and don't get the dress dirty. Cecilia might be able to keep my mom away for like, five minutes. Do a good job.”

Dean chuckled, not able to discern if he was confusing reality and porn again or if this was actually happening, but your taste on his lips was evidence enough to make it uncontestible. He gave you a loving gaze despite everything before coming back to finish what he started. This was it, that was his girl.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

Leave a comment and REBLOG. Feedback is magic!

TAGS ON MY REBLOG! WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK/DM

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #kinktober #kinktober day 13 #dean x you #dean winchester x you #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader smut #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural smut #domestic!dean x reader #domestic!dean #domestic!dean winchester

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part Eleven is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 4,700

“Hey,” Sam walked up as Dean focused on making his quick lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. With the strawberry jam. How thrilling, he internally sighed, pouring the gooey concoction onto the bread.

“Hey.” He returned listlessly. Not having the energy for pleasantries.

“P.B. and J for breakfast. Strong work.” Sam was trying to be cheerful. So much so that it only made Dean's mood more bleak.

“Yep.”

“Wanna beer with that?” Sam offered in that eager to please kind of voice that made Dean's head rise to attention.

“I'm cool,” His statement ended as more of a question as he turned to look at his brother in confusion.

“Come on. Live a little.” Sam coerced cheerfully, shutting the door. Two of the aforementioned drinks in hand. “Here.”

One plopped on the island in front of Dean, as the older brother went back to the breakfast of champions. “What's goin' on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Sam tried to play innocent. His eyes going just slightly wider as the enormous brain of his went into overdrive. Dean wasn't impressed, and the green gaze reflected it. Lips pulling tight as he turned his eyes back to the sandwich. Not even having the energy to argue. “Anyway, check this out.” Sam rushed into what he'd been buttering his brother up for, “I think I found something.” The tablet was pulled out. An article rested on the screen. Staring the hunter down. “Three days ago, kid named Shawn Raider was found wandering on the side of the road.” Sam stated, selling the hunt better than a used car salesman, “near Grand Junction, Colorado. Bleeding from the head.” Dean still didn't look too keen, so he kept going. “Best friend was missing. And get this,” His long finger waved with his catch phrase, “only word he said?” He waited for a response with his final word, “Monster.”

“Okay,” Dean began, wrapping up his plating. Brows lifting only a hair. “Well, that sounds like something.”

“Yeah,” Sam jumped on it. “So, I thought I'd check it out. You and me.” That really caught his older brother's attention.

“What about Jack?” He'd been better with the kid. Letting him be around. But, that hadn't meant he liked it. He didn't. At all. “And, Y/N?”

“He's uh,” Sam turned towards the door as he began. “He's catching up on all my old fantasy DVD's.” He began listing them off as a way to show how busy the boy would be. “Red Sonia, Beast Master, uh, Beast Master II. You know, the one with the time traveling ferrets.” Dean was looking at Sam as if he'd lost it.

“Yeah,” Finally, the older brother sounded a bit more like himself, “Wow... How you ever got laid, I'll never know.”

A breathy chuckle left Sam at the teasing, “Yeah, tell me about it.” He genuinely wanted Dean to rip into him. Wanted to see the spark of life back in his eyes. “So, I was thinking,” Sam was taking the large leap as he stopped chewing at his lip, “we'd leave Jack behind.” Dean was no longer amused.

He sucked a flake of peanut butter off of his pinky before responding, “Really?”

“Yeah,” His voice cracked, making him sound less confident then he'd been hoping for. “We'll throw up some extra warding. He'll be fine.”

“You never said anything about Y/N.” The attached Alpha spoke up. “Got a plan for that, too?”

“Y/N? She can stay here, too. Or, go visit with Jody. Whatever she wants. She'll be alright.” Sam's hands rested on the cool surface in front of him. “I mean, when's the last time we worked a case? Just you and me?” Sam motioned between their bodies. Hoping like hell it would be enough.

“It's been a while,” Dean acknowledged, his head bobbing with the answer.

“Exactly.” He tried hard to not sound too excited. To not scare Dean away. “So?” The scrunched up nod said plenty.

Maybe it'll be good, Dean thought to himself as the sigh of relief left his brother. He didn't have a clear head in the bunker. He couldn't do what he needed to with you and Jack around every corner. Yeah, he decided, yeah, I'll go.

–

“It's just you and me, Jack.” Your arms crossed as the roar of the Impala faded into the distance. “Want to jump into the ice cream?”

“Can we?” He sounded like a kid at Christmas. Earning a grin on your lips as you motioned back towards the entrance of the bunker. “Hell yes!” You winced a bit at that. Knowing that it came from Dean.

As he ran inside, you sighed. Watching the trail of dust fade away in the distance. Hoping that Sam was right. That all Dean needed to right his head was a hunt, booze, and a strip joint.

Part of you wanted to join them on the road. Not wanting to be so far from your mate. The other part? She was petrified of the thought of another hunt.

Your arms crossed over your body to hold yourself together. The after effects clung to you like a second skin. Late at night, you could see Buddy and Mia playing through your mind on repeat. Could see Dean's terror at the thought of losing his brother echoing in the air. Your own response chilled you. Not that you'd ever been particularly afraid of death. But, you'd never openly welcomed it as you had in that moment.

You turned away from the negative thoughts, leaving them to the breeze. Sending Dean away with the healing energies you'd been able to muster. Hoping to find your own piece of clarity in the process.

–

“So, he didn't say anything?” Sam got out of the passenger seat once they reached the Royal Towers Motel. Far more upbeat than their usual place.

“Not a word,” Baby's door shut behind Dean. “Whatever that kid saw? It messed him up.” Dean checked his watch. He didn't like leaving you alone. Didn't know when it would be a reasonable time to check in. He wanted to make sure Jack hadn't come unhinged- not that he could say that he truly believed it would happen. His anxiety, however, didn't pull any punches.

“Well, I say that we talk to the other friend. Uh, Mike,” The younger brother remembered the name as he rounded the car's hood, “first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” The watch was dropped. As if that would make him forget.

He turned towards the glass doors, fully prepared to settle in for the night. And to get that damned call in before he went crazy. His mark was practically itching at being away from your side. Reminding him of the need to get it abolished. Just as fast as the thought crossed his mind, he grew more bleak.

“So...” Sam's voice pulled him from wallowing in self-pity once again, “strip club?” The forced question set off every warning bell Dean possessed.

“Wait.” The older brother drew himself to a halt. Looking up into the widened, nervously shifting gaze of the taller one. “Sorry...what?”

A small noise made its way from the back of his throat before he could respond,“S-strip...club,” Sam internally cursed himself for the stutter. “There's one just outside of town.” He didn't know what to do with his hands. Waving them a bit before stuffing them in his pockets. Trying to look cool. “The uh...” He took a deep breath. The name was physically painful. “The Clamdiver.”

Dean stared at Sam as if he was a stranger, “You,” a hand pointed at Sam as he emphasized what he'd just heard. “Wanna go to The Clamdiver?”

Sam couldn't look him in the eyes, and instead settled on the tie, “Yeah.” Then his eyes came up. “It...It got great reviews.” As if that made the situation better.

His brother only became more incredulous, “You read reviews...for The Clamdiver?”

“It...” He couldn't help but to stutter at the ridiculous conversation that he'd started. Trying to justify the need to go was only making it worse. But, like a derailed train, he couldn't stop. “It...it got four and a half-”

Dean couldn't take anymore, “Dude, what is going on with you?”

“What are you talking about?” Again, his eyes stuck to the tie. Unable to meet the green gaze.

“All day,” The older brother started calling him out. “You give me a...a beer for breakfast.” That wasn't all though. Oh no. Dean had a list. “You...you gave me Agent Page, which you always like to be.” Sam didn't find that to be a huge red flag, but his brother wasn't done. Not even close. “You...you didn't whine about me blaring my music the whole way here.” He'd expected Sam to try and talk about you or Jack. He hadn't had him in it to hear it, then. So...music. The lack of protest, though, had raised even more suspicion. “And when we stopped for lunch, you ordered me chili fries.” The accusing hand was aimed at him again. As if that final piece had been a sin.

Sam's mouth was slightly ajar as he glanced back up with a minimum shrug, “You love chili fries.”

“Everybody loves chili fries,” For half a second, Sam had hope that Dean had been taken off course. He should have known better. “That's not the point.” His lips pulled back before he went onto the most recent offense, having caught onto the tactic. “Now you wanna go hang out at a strip club?” That damned hand was back in business, “You hate strip clubs.”

“No, I don't.” An indignant scoff left the younger brother before transforming into a broken chuckle. He really did, but Dean...

“Dude,” Dean had no problem jumping onto the lie, claws drawn. “The last lap dance that you had was...was...was,” A moment to think gave Sam hope that he could intervene, “at Christmas.” So much for that thought, came the rueful internal response. “It was a gift paid for by me.” His voice grew deeper as the memory became clearer. Sam hated that particular night. He'd wished Dean had forgotten it. By all means, he should have with all of the tequila he'd ingested. Yet, there he sat; reciting it better than he could a Metallica track. “You spent the entire song trying to convince the girl that she should go to nursing school.” Dean's head bobbed as he tried to meet Sam's wandering eyes all the way up to the point where he turned his head away with a small sigh. He opened his mouth to argue, but simply clamped it shut. Unable to protest. His brother was right. “So...what is it?” The demand followed the evidence flawlessly. Sam was cornered. “Its it my birthday? Did...did I win a bet that I don't know about? What?”

“No,” Sam broke. “No, nothing.” Dean didn't look convinced, so he didn't stop. “Nothing. I...I mean, I'm just trying to be nice.”

“Why?” Ever distrustful Dean came forth. No one was nice to him without a reason.

“Because it....” He sighed deeply. Giving up the entire act. “You know why.” The unimpressed head tilt he received made him want to shake his brother. He knew what was coming as his words sunk in.

“I'm fine.” With that, Dean moved to walk away. Shoulders straight.

“No, you're not, Dean.” Sam didn't hesitate. He knew his brother too well to not know that Dean would want to escape the conversation. His brother's hands came up to try to wave the doors into opening. Nothing. Sam moved forward, refusing to back down. “You said that you don't believe in anything, and...and that's not true.” Dean looked inside the office, trying to push away what was being said. “That's not you.” With a dark scowl, Dean jerked open the door. Annoyed that he'd expected a bit more glam at that place. He could have gotten away faster. “You...You do believe in things.” Sam rushed to follow. “You do believe in people. That's who you are. That's what you do.” The desk forced him to stop. Sam didn't. Dean's eyes shut, asking for the patience he'd never had. “I know you're in a dark place, and I...” His heart was breaking all over again. “I just wanna help.”

“Okay,” It wasn't something he could avoid. So, he turned to his younger brother. “Look,” He hated the hopeful look on Sam's face in that moment. “I...I've been down this road before, and I fought my way back. I will fight my way back again.”

“How?” Came the pointed question. Dean wasn't thrilled with the response and the look on his face reflected that.

“Same way I always do,” Sam's head shook, saying that wasn't enough of an answer. So, Dean did what he did best. Resorted to the three 'B's. “Bullets, bacon, booze.” His fingers ticked each one off with love. With that, he slammed his hand on the bell. No longer having the patience to deal with what he'd been given. If he'd been home, he'd have had the fourth 'B', too. Boobs. “A lotta booze.” A sigh left his lips.

–

“Hey,” Your voice was a little too upbeat for you to be happy with it. Jack simply gave you an unimpressed side eye. Kid was catching on quick. With slightly narrowed eyes, you pushed his face away teasingly. Earning a smile. “What's up, Dean?”

“Sam's driving me nuts,” He muttered, glancing towards the bathroom where his brother was prepping for the night out. “He's tryin' to get me to go to a strip club. Can you believe that?”

“So, why are you talking to me?” You crossed your legs as the half angel boy left the room to refill the ice cream bowls. Giving you a moment of privacy. “Go out, Dean. Let loose.”

“Are...” Dean's voice cracked a bit, before he straightened it back up with a little throat clearing action. “Are you messing with me right now?” He sounded positively mad. It only made you grin. “Cause if you are, I'll have you know that it's not nice to-”

“Dean,” The calmness in your voice made him go silent. “Go out with your brother. Let off some steam. It'll be good for you.”

“What kind of mate are you?” The accusation in his voice made you bite back a full blown laugh. An over dramatic huff followed. “Well?”

“The kind who knows that you've been too wrapped up with life here at the bunker,” The slightly broken note had Dean frowning into his cell phone. Realizing that you were serious. “Just...go. Let loose. I won't hold it against you.” Yet, part of you wished that he wouldn't. The piece of him that resided in your mark. “Go be a normal person for a night, Dean...it's okay.”

“What're you two doing?” Dean changed the conversation, unable to sit on the tension. Hated the brokenness that he'd accidentally drawn forth.

“Eating our weight in ice cream.” You answered honestly. Rubbing over your stomach. Knowing the gut ache that would follow.  “Jack wanted to try chick flicks. He's trying to see why you hate them so much.”

“Is he figuring it out?” The wince was audible, turning your mood back upwards.

“Yeah,” The laugh that escaped you bubbled through him. Making him lighter than he'd hoped it could. “He's not a fan of anything Nicholas Sparks. Figured I'd give him the ultimate experience.”

“You're a cruel woman, Y/N.” The older Winchester tsked into his phone. Cruel enough to not give him anything he didn't ask for.  “So, it's good, then?”

“What'd you expect, Dean?” The fuzzy, disabling little voice came over the speaker again. “We're good. Jack's impatient for you two to get back. Every five minutes, he has a different question. It's cute.”

“And you?” He wanted to know what you were feeling. Needed to know if it was as one sided as he feared.

“What about me?” It was back. That breathy little note that made his knees weak. His brain pictured the way your lip twitched when you tried to hold back a smile. Wondering if it was doing it, then.

“Do you want us back home?” The gravely question settled into your gut. “Do you miss me, yet?”

“Go have fun, Dean...” Was the only response you could come up with. “I'll see you soon.”

You ended the call before he could respond. Truth was you did miss him. More than you'd expected. It wasn't just the mark. There was something about him, in himself, that was starting to draw you in.

“You're falling in love with him,” Jack stated from the doorway. Making your head jerk up.

“I think you've been watching too much romance, Jack.” Your voice held no steel, though. He wasn't buying it. “How 'bout we switch it up a bit?”

“Like what?” He let you slide. Not wanting to hurt you, on accident.

“Let's try some action.” You turned your mind away from your mate. Too afraid that Jack was right. It would be all too easy for you to give your heart away to the older Winchester.

The next morning, you woke up to video of Dean on your phone. He was out cold; snoring loudly from the booze that was splashed across the tan carpet, no doubt. Still in his wrinkled, well worn FBI suit from the day before. His tie wrapped into a bow around his forehead. Sunglasses just above it. A frilly pink bra around his neck. Using his shoe as a pillow. What appeared to be a rope whip in his hand. You weren't truly sure if you were honest.

Disappointment saturated everything else. On some level, you'd hoped that he would have turned it down. With a sigh that said you should have known better, you tossed your phone. Curling more into your blankets. Your stomach taking the expected hit from the sugar overdose you'd experienced the night before.

You got through the day. You weren't exactly sure how, if you were honest. When you could finally settle in for another late night binge session, you couldn't have been happier. Being left alone with Jack was both rewarding and exhausting all bundled into one. Not in a negative way. Simply made you appreciate full time parents all the more. As the images flaunted across the screen, you couldn't help but to wonder what Sam and Dean were doing.

–

“I think it might be another ghost,” Sam stated as doors slammed. The glass from a photo exploded as it hit the ground.

“I think there's a lot,” Dean returned. The air around them both was freezing. They'd taken down the doctor. Light bulbs shattered as the energies surged forward. Coming towards the men rapidly. “Let's go! Go!”

“We need a doctor,” A woman's voice whispered frantically as they hit the stairs. Joined by a man's. Over and over, the phrase was thrown into the air. “Where is the doctor?”

Dean was breathing hard as they entered the landing that was filled with beds. “They're asking for the doc.” It all came together, then.

“These must be the people he killed,” Sam winced at the realization. One spook was bad enough. An army of them? Hell was easier. Their flashlights moving across the room, checking for any apparitions.

“Well, if they're ghosts, then why can't we see them?” The older brother challenged. Looking for answers to explain what was happening.

“Maybe they're not strong enough to pierce the veil,” The younger shot back. More bulbs exploding as they were discovered. Beds aimed sharply at them by the furious spirits.

“Yeah, but they're strong enough to kill us?” The shouted question was thrown out as they ended up on the move, again.

“Great.” Sam followed Dean down the stairs. Not much more impressed with the turn the night had taken.

“You know what,” His breath was labored but he didn't slow. “Those bodies have gotta be buried in the house somewhere.” The next landing was met. The house larger than it looked from the outside.

“Okay, so we check it top to bottom.” Sam was ever logical, even when there was an unknown amount of spirits calling for their heads. Dean, knew better. Slamming the bag he'd been carrying to the ground, he started looking for the items he'd learned to keep in stock.

“There's no time.” He replied, feeling his fingers brush across the case.

“What are you doing?” Sam's head jerked down to see what his brother was planning. The house vibrating in years of once contained rage.

“I'm gonna find out where these bodies are buried.” That couldn't have been more vague.

“So?”

“So, I'm gonna ask 'em.” Dean moved all the junk out of the way to bring the needed items to the top.

“What? How?” The case was thick, green, rectangular, and old. However, it held what they needed.

“Easy.” The lid snapped open under the light. Two large needles rested inside, filled with white liquid. “One needle stops the heart, and the other one starts it up again.” Dean lifted the one out and then looked up at Sam. Instantly, his brother started protesting. “Look, we can't talk to them on this side of the veil, so I'm gonna go to the other side.” Dean boomed, leaving no room for argument. “I'm gonna work my way through all of these Caspers until we find out where this freak hid the bodies.”

“Dean, you're talking about killing yourself!” Sam shouted back. As if it was the first time his brother had made that move.

The cap was removed with his teeth, “Yeah?” It clattered to the ground. “Well, it worked before.”

“That's an insane risk to take.” His voice cracked as he tried to reason. Tried to make Dean see.

“Listen,” Dean cut him off before he could say more. “I need three minutes, okay?”

“D...Don't even...” The needle was pressed in before he could finish. Plunger slammed. Directly below the cardiac muscle. “Dean!” The older brother groaned. The pain harsher than he'd expected. He should have known better. “Dean!” He couldn't hear Sam anymore. Letting out his own little cry. “Hey!” Down  he went, rolling to his side. “Damn it!” He took the two steps and landed beside his brother.

Dean was inconsolable. Gasping for air as his body shook. Fighting against the drug that was killing him without meaning to. Sam tried using his voice to calm the dying. It was useless. Dean didn't hear a thing until he stopped moving. His head bumping across the ground.

Sam rolled him over. Checking his pulse as Dean watched on from the side. Running his hands over his non-physical body. Being a spirit was weird, but it wasn't the first time. He knew just what to do. His eyes landed on the stairs and he was on his way.

“Hey! Ghost dude!” Dean called out, moving after the other entity. Each step jarring out another 'hey'. “Hey, wait up, pal.”

“Hello,” A woman's voice stopped Dean. Reapers. He'd forgotten about them if he was honest with himself. “My name is Jessica and I'm here to lead you to your next life.” The bubbly red head smiled at him. So sure in her quest.

“Yeah,” He didn't have time for the game. “Hi, Dean.” He introduced himself, looking her directly in the eyes. “Little busy right now.” His ghost friend was getting away. “Yo!” He was on the move again.

“Oh god,” She followed him with her gaze. Comprehension was always less than pleasant when a reaper ran into a Winchester.

Meanwhile, Sam checked his watch. Twenty one seconds had gone by. He grabbed the salt, circling it around the body to be safe as the storm outside raged on. Another step that had been forgotten. He was cursing Dean all the while. Then, his phone rang. Jack.

“Hey, Jack. Now really isn't a good time-” He didn't get a chance to say more. The blood curdling scream on the other end cut him off. “Jack? What's goin' on?” The young boy didn't answer. Shouting in panic as he dropped the phone. Begging you in the distance to stop hurting yourself. The specifics getting lost over the agonized cries. “Oh my god.” He breathed out, looking at Dean's corpse. The mark darkening his throat beneath the flashlight's gaze. “What did you do?”

“Hey!” Dean called out. Loudly. Impatiently. “Hey, wait up!” He was getting tired of the chase. He had things to do. Like getting back home to the warm body in his bed. Luckily, he seemed to have cornered the guy. “Hey, do you, uh...” Then, the spirit vanished through the fireplace. “Oh, come on!”

“I know you,” A male voice stated from behind him. Dean turned to see the boy they'd been looking for. “Shawn.”

“You're the FBI man from my house.” Blood coated the shirt. A bandage stuck to his temple. There was no saving the child. Even on his hunt, he was failing. “You're dead, too?”

“I, uh...” What did one say in that situation? Dean didn't really know, so he improvised. “Yeah.” He decided to go with the technical truth. “What happened to you?” He took a few steps towards the boy. Concern dancing on his face.

“The man with the drill. He was in my room.” He stared blankly as he talked. Traumatized even after it was all sone.

“The doc...he possessed you, and he killed you.” Dean finished for him.

“I...I...I couldn't stop it.” Fear was heard then. Remembering how it all ended. “He said I'd feel better, but....I just...” His voice broke, then. “I miss my mom.”

“Shawn,” Dean's throat grew tight. Regret filling him. “I should've...” His words caught inside of him. “I'm so sorry.”

“Evan's here, too.” As if that made it better. “We can't leave. We...Why can't we leave?”

“I know you're scared, okay?” Dean moved forward, slowly. “But, I'm gonna help you. I'm going to help you get out of here.”

“Help me go home?” The weak voice questioned.

“Help you go to a better place.” It was all he could promise. Home no longer existed for him. Something Dean would live with for the remainder of his life. “But, I need you to tell me...The doc, where did he put your body?” As soon as he had the answer, he was bolting up the stairs. Calling for Sam. As if he could actually hear him. “Let's do this.”

His brother was checking his watch, needle in hand. The phone in his ear was blasting with indecipherable sounds. Loud, whatever they were. The beeper went off. Signaling the end of the game.

“All right,” Sam whispered, rubbing at Dean's chest a little before pushing the needle in with a heavy grunt. The plunger shoved it deep into the cold body. He threw the syringe to the ground, leaning over the empty vessel.

“Come on,” Dean was impatiently waiting. Chanting the phrase as he watched for some kind of sign.

“Dean,” Sam was watching his face. Patting his arm. “Dean?” Nothing. A paw landed across his chest. “Hey! Dean!”

“Why is it not working?” Dean asked himself. Watching in disbelief. Sam grew more frantic, then. Patting and shaking the body as if it would all magically solve the problem.

“Hey, Dean.” A female voice sounded. His eyes left the scene in front of him, turning to the top of the stairs. There she stood.

“Billie.” He hadn't been scared before. Simply in disbelief. But seeing her there set it off.

“We need to talk.”

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff  @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #alpha dean x omega reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #dean angst #dean winchester angst #alpha dean winchester #a/b/o

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Nine: The One with the Roof

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3082

Sometimes, letting loose of all inhibitions can be a good thing. It could help release stress and create a new sense of relaxation. Or it could create chaos, and let secrets fall from loose lips. And typically, that's what intoxication did to most. And Lily Osborne was no different than others when it came down to it. The lock on her lips came loose whenever alcohol slides past them. But loose lips sink ships. Hence why, before entering the compound, Lily took a personal vow to not let a single drop go past her lips. She not only wanted to remember the night she partied with the Avengers, but she wanted to ensure that nothing would slip out. Not even her attraction to the Winter Soldier.

"Do we just let ourselves in or...?" Rose wondered after finally managing to get Lily out of the car and up to the porch of the large compound. Lily seriously wondered what they needed all of this space for. She understood the whole space for the training aspect but was this really what they needed? Seemed a bit excessive to her. But then again, she was raised in a modest eco-friendly home and lived in a small colonial-style home herself.

"I mean I assume we knock? But maybe superheroes do it differently?" Gen answered, biting on her lip before reaching between the two sisters and knocking on the silver door in front of them. No answer. She tried one more time, but all three collectively agreed that if they could hear the music from outside, there was no chance in hell that they could hear the knocks on the door, "I take it that we just go in."

Rose's manicured hand reached forward and twisted the doorknob, pushing open the door to be greeted by loud music and warm bodies moving around each other. Either dancing or pushing through to get somewhere else. Immediately, Lily's hands clammed up and her entire face burst into a bright shade of ruby red. Her chest heaved up and down at an expeditious rate as her heart rate picked up and air move in and out between her painted lips. She wasn't even in the thick of the party and already her nerves were starting to get the better of her. It didn't help that she was totally sure that this was all a practical joke to embarrass her in front of all of the Avengers and become a laughing stock of Earth’s mightiest heroes. But of course (obviously) this wasn't the case, and everything was being made up in her mind.

Sensing the unease in Lily's demeanour, Rose and Gen hooked their arms into hers and lead the shortest of the three into the compound. The smell of alcohol and a tinge of sweat hit their nostrils like a brick wall, a smell Gen and Rose enjoyed, by Lily found sickening. She wasn't much of a drinker because of the fact she lost control of what came in and out of her mouth, and typically only had a few glasses of wine with Gen or at dinner. But that was it. She never went to bars, never got wasted. Not only because it wasn't her thing, but because she was busy with a baby in her twenties. Something that most people her age wouldn't dream of until they, well, were her age. But Lily wouldn't change it for the world, she got a beautiful son out of it and couldn't be more thankful for that outcome. If it were with a different person and under different circumstances, she might have been more thankful, but, you can't control everything.

"Oh look there's Mr. Odinson- oh he's coming towards us." Gen beamed while attempting to hide the excitement that grew in her chest, "Oh would you look at him. The things I would do for that ma-"

"Ladies!" the God boomed, cutting Genevieve off from finishing her thirsty comment. His shoulders stood wide in front of the three girls, and Lily barely hit the top of his chest in height. He was truly a godly figure and Lily couldn't help but shrink her shoulders, becoming vulnerable. She couldn't help but grow nervous around someone like Thor, he was a literal God. All she was a god at was making an excellent pancake, "I'm so glad you three could make it. go and mingle, I shall steal lady Lily away from you two."

Before Lily could protest or tighten her grip on her best friend and sister’s arms, they slipped away and into the crowd together, sending a wink back to the nervous mother that now stood alone with the God of Thunder. Her breath hitched in her throat when the man previously mentioned entwined his arm with Lily's, leading her away from the entrance and towards the bar that was set up near the side. Thor was boasting about something, but Lily's ears drowned it out as the bass of the music thundered in her ears. People’s laughter and conversations created a nerve-wracking rhythm that danced through her mind. She felt the noises hammering away at her heart that thudded against her ribcage at a worrying pace.

"...Captain Rogers or Sam shall be here in a few to take you to see Sergeant Barnes." Were the last words Lily caught before Thor took off to go tell ancient Asgardian stories to the elder veterans that stood around a table. Again, he was gone too quickly for Lily to protest, leaving her alone at the bar, biting on her bottom lip like it was her last meal before death.

Her hazel eyes turned from the ground back up to scan the crowd that had congregated in the compound, either tipsy, drunk, or sober. Everyone seemed to be having a lovely time, except for Lily. Instead, she stood alone at the bar, picking at hangnails and scuffing her feet off the ground. At that moment, she believed this entire thing to be a mistake. Her heart hammered wildly inside of her and she wanted nothing more than to go home and snuggle in bed with Joey. And, if she had it her way, Hunter would be there too. But instead, she was stuck here at the avengers compound, awaiting Captain America or the Falcon. Life was crazy, sure, but Lily never expected she'd experience something as surreal as this. Let alone want to go home from it.

"You look down, Ms. Osborne," a somewhat familiar voice echoed from behind her. Turning her head, Lily came face to face with Sam Wilson, aka the Falcon. Seeing a face she knew created a sense of comfort inside of Lily, Even though she didn't really know him that well. But he had been so kind to her and to Hunter, Lily couldn't help but feel welcomed by him, by someone who was just a genuinely nice guy, "Why the long face? Not a fan of parties?" It was as if the man was able to read Lily's mind...because that's exactly why.

"That's an understatement. But I couldn't exactly decline an invitation from a God, now could I?" Lily smiled gently, leaning against the bar with her hands clasped in front of her, elbows placed on top of the glowing counter, "Plus, Rose and Gen would never let me say no. Hunter's at his dads so..."

Sam nodded along as she spoke, but Lily caught the slight excitement that flickered across his dark eyes when she mentioned her younger sister. A small smirk pulled at the corners of Lily's lips as she ordered herself ice water with lemon. This too seemed to catch Sam's interest and he leaned forward slightly while nodding down towards the clear liquid in the cup that Lily held. It was cold against her skin, and she was thankful for that because her hands felt as though they had been set on fire.

"Not a drinker?" Sam wondered, eyes glancing over the blonde’s shoulder as she sipped on the cool drink. Lily knew that she'd probably be questioned about the fact she wasn't drinking, and her answer would always be the same. She didn't want to embarrass herself. Especially not in front of this crowd of people.

"Don't really feel like making a fool of myself in front of the Avengers," Lily chuckled, flattening out her dress with her pale hand, "Happy birthday though. Quite the celebration."

The conversation between the two stayed light and airy. Nothing deep being spilled, and no mention of the elusive Bucky Barnes. Whom, might I add, was currently nowhere to be found. Despite Lily's not-so-sly glances around her gave away the fact she had been looking for him. She wouldn't admit it, but she was secretly hoping she'd be able to spend the night getting to know the quiet man. He just looked like he had so many stories to tell, such character hidden behind those gorgeous ice blue eyes. Anytime that Lily caught them, she had always felt fireworks being set off from behind her, as though she had found the one that made her heart whole.

"And here comes the man you've been looking for," Sam teased while nodding over Lily's shoulder. Perhaps a bit too quickly, the blonde turned her head around to spot those same eyes she had found herself thinking about just moments ago, "I see you got my text, terminator."

"How could I miss it, you sent me seven." Bucky's raspy voice called as he took his place beside Sam at the bar, turning his attention to the blonde that stood across from the two, "Oh, Lily. It's nice to see you. I assume that's why Thor was on my phone."

Speechless. No words formed in Lily's mind to return back to the conversation. All she could think about was how beautiful Bucky looked in his black dress pants and blue shirt that matched almost perfectly to Lily's. The top few buttons were left open, exposing a bit of hair growth peaking over, and sculpted collarbones laying beneath the man’s neck. With the way his chest flexed, Lily was sure that the rest of the buttons would give way and pop off one by one, exposing what Lily could only imagine. Olive skin, littered with beautiful scars across a chiselled core. Just the thought made Lily's mouth run dry, which resulted in her chugging back the water she held in her hand.

"Nice to see you too-" Lily finally responded, cutting herself off quickly. God, damn it. Her voice had cracked halfway through the sentence and a heavy blush returned onto Lily's face, her hands becoming slick with sweat once again. How did he do this to her? Was it the eyes? The soft yet deep tone of his voice? The way he seemed to relax around her and Sam? Whatever it was, it had a lasting effect on Lily. Even after she hadn't seen, nor spoken to him in three weeks. And yet here he stood in all of his glory at his close friend’s birthday party.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it." Sam grinned, patting Bucky on the shoulder before leaning in to whisper something in the tall man’s ear. This resulted in Bucky swatting at the birthday boy as he took off into the crowd after thanking Lily for the birthday wishes. Thus, leaving Bucky and Lily alone at the bar together.

Both were quiet people. Bucky because of the mental trauma he had suffered for over seventy years, and Lily because it was simply in her DNA. She was born quiet, never having anything more to say than what was required. In university, Professors and peers tried and tried again to try and get her to contribute her opinion the same way she did on paper. Her mind was so far beyond her years, and the intelligence she had was unmatched, but she kept it to herself. She saw the world as it was, and by keeping quiet, she was trying to spare herself. She saw how cruel the world around her was, and just how awful people can be. Especially after the relentless teasing, she went through in high school as a nerd-type student. The whole high school archetype was stupid, but Lily fell where she did.

"I won't lie, Thor dropped hints all day that you were coming," Bucky commented while sipping his whiskey, taking a few steps towards the blonde, "Part of me didn't think you would. but uh..." his voice trailed off. Those mesmerizing eyes glanced across Lily's face as if trying to read her reaction. They dipped down farther to look at the radiating outfit that Rose had pulled together, appreciating the natural beauty that stood before him. He could barely speak. But alas, he continued, "I'm glad you did...Steve mentioned if no one else did, he was going to invite you."

So it wasn't just a joke. A weight seemed to release itself off of Lily's shoulders as the man spoke. They were going to invite her here one way or another. And he was actually glad she was here. Not embarrassed or annoyed. It was as if he actually enjoyed her company? But Lily had a hard time believing anyone enjoyed her company most of the time. She found herself to be dull and a bit on the boring and mundane side...but maybe for an ex-assassin, a bit of domesticity and simplicity was what Bucky needed. An escape from the world of avenging and world-saving. To become the man that he had dreamed of being in the ‘40s. Meeting a nice girl, settling down, and dying of old age, happy. But, neither Lily nor Bucky wanted to get too far ahead of themselves. This was only the second time they've really hung out.

But love and fate worked in mysterious ways.

"I'm not a party person, but Rose and Gen figured it'd be good for me to get out of the house while Hunter was at his dads," Lily responded, finger running around the rim of her water glass, deep eyes avoiding any contact with the man in front of her. Her heart thundered wildly inside of her rib cage, throat going dry as he continued to advance closer to her. Though she typically would, Lily didn't move. she never worried that he would try anything disrespectful. He was careful, calculated. He knew already that wasn't who she was, but yet, stuck around.

"Ypur son! He's cute. You two look alike," Bucky commented, biting down on his chapped lips. Lily felt his gaze on her and she couldn't stop herself from lifting her eyes to meet his. The stories they told, the horrors they've seen. He looked so forlorn and tired. Part of Lily wished she could steal him away and keep him away from the messiness of the world. The people that wanted to hurt him. Give him the simple life with blueberry pancakes on Sundays and walks with Joey. Movie nights with Hunter...dinner dates. But his voice snapped her out of her trance, "You said a few weeks ago you and Hunter’s father were split...mind me asking why?"

"What?" Lily called, furrowing her eyebrows and leaning forward. With the music blaring and people talking, the blonde was unable to make out what Bucky had said. Her eyes focused on his lips, but to no avail, she wasn't able to decipher what he was saying, "I can't hear you! Music is too loud!" Lily exclaimed, Exaggerating her mouth in hopes he'd be able to figure out what she was saying. Maybe years of being an infamous HYDRA agent taught him to read lips?

He nodded, signalling that he had understood. The brunette reached his hand out in front of him, offering his flesh hand to the mother in front of him. Lily panicked instantly. Her hands were all sweaty and shrivelled because of her nerves, and she knew it would be just too embarrassing to even think about putting her hand into his. If it were Bucky's metal arm? Well, maybe Lily would have considered it because of the lack of feeling (as far as she knew). But it would have probably left some sort of residue. But, she had to think on her feet. Something Lily was actually quite good at. Discreetly, the blonde slid her palms across her dress, riding the sweat from her skin, before sliding her right hand into his left.

Where he was leading her? Lily had no idea. He could be leading her to her doom for all she knew. Maybe whatever the secret nazi intelligence agency that corrupted him had put inside his mind was still there, and Lily triggered it. Or maybe he was some creep, like most guys Lily had met at parties and bars, well, the limited ones she had been to. That's where she met Scott. In a pretty similar scenario. Lily had been dropped at the bar by Gen while she went off to mingle and dance, and a handsome man approached. A light conversation had started and Lily was informed his name was Scott Harvey. Her later husband and baby daddy, then ex-husband. A little voice inside of Lily's mind told her it would be the same, that it's just the beginning of the same cycle. But a small piece of her heart believed that this was different. Meanwhile, she didn't even know what this was, to begin with. As far as she knew, they were barely even acquaintances. Lily had only met him a hand full of times and only knew what the textbooks told her.

So thinking this would be like Scott? And that she'd end up marrying Bucky? That was a preposterous thought. Once again, she had just met him. And sure, Lily had a history of getting her hopes up, but she tried to restrain herself this time. Remind herself that there may be nothing but friendship here.

But then again, what did she really know? She was a single mother being lead to the roof by an ex-HYDRA assassin that had the ability to kill her and make it look like an accident. Anything was possible when it came to the people around her. What Lily never expected though, was for Bucky Barnes to lead her to the roof of the Avengers compound where a few chairs sat around a fireplace(?), underneath the stars. He gestured for her to sit, and Lily complied without hesitation. Before she knew it, the fire was lit and he sat across from her, a comfortable sigh escaping his lips.

"Tell me everything about you, Lily Osborne."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female oc #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #original female character #female oc #OC #oc tag #oc x canon #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the winter soldier #the avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #tfatws #single mom #sebastian stan #fluffy #romance #comedy #james buchanan barnes

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Bad Decisions Are Always More Fun With Friends

Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730796

This is another OPM fic because im on a filthy binge :( 

It starts, as all things tend to, with Garou’s bad idea.

“I heard that there’s a poltergeist lurking in the Ato High gymnasium,” Garou proclaims, one hot summer’s afternoon, leaning across the messy scramble of tables between them.

“And? What’s that gotta do with us?” Badd asks, after a short silence that indicated Garou was not about to drop the topic, or sit back down on his side of the table. Garou’s grin stretches wider, seemingly nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm from the other two. “Of COURSE, we’re going to go check it out!”

After all, being young is about making bad choices, break-ins, and chasing ghosts, although not necessarily in that order.

It starts, as all things tend to, with Garou’s bad idea.

“I heard that there’s a poltergeist lurking in the Ato High gymnasium,” Garou proclaims, one hot summer’s afternoon, leaning across the messy scramble of tables between them. He’s grinning so wide; the afternoon sun reflects off his teeth.

Badd makes a non-committal noise in response, not even looking up from his phone. “And? What’s that gotta do with us?” he asks, after a short silence that indicated Garou was not about to drop the topic, or sit back down on his side of the table. Garou’s grin stretches wider, seemingly nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm from the other two. “Of COURSE, we’re going to go check it out!”

Badd looks up then, eyebrow raised incredulously. “Why?” he questions. Leaning back, Garou fixes him with his own incredulous stare, as if Badd was the crazy one. “Because I want to see it, obviously.” It wasn’t the first time Garou had come up with a completely random, hare-brained scheme to while away the boredom that boycotting most of the school clubs, and most of his schoolmates, tended to bring. Since it wasn’t the first time, both Badd and Genos had enough good sense combined to realise that following through with any of his plans would end badly.

Genos closes the thick mystery novel he’d picked up from the library earlier for some ‘light reading’ with an audible snap. “We are not going ghost hunting,” Genos says, voice as serious and grave as ever. “Ghost?” Badd asks, looking between Genos and Garou quickly. “That pollyte- thing, it’s a ghost? Damn.” Badd mutters, tapping his phone against his chin in thought. “I thought it was some sort of exercise equipment or some shit.”

Garou rolls his eyes, folding his arms. “It’s not ghost hunting,” he says, resolute. “It’s ghost watching.” Behind him, the last remaining stragglers in the classroom were already heading home at the sound of the last bell, filling the room with the cacophony of scraping chairs and echoing goodbyes. The three of them had been sitting there for hours, with the innocent intent to get their homework done before the weekend. A tumultuous ordeal that they had dragged Genos into with the idea of helping them out, which only Genos had managed to succeed in. The other two had instead gotten nearly nothing done, in between snacking, gossiping, Badd being immersed in some noisy phone game, and Garou being immersed in whatever it was that potentially led to this.

Reaching forward, Garou thrusts the phone he’d been cradling in his hand into Genos’s face. Taking it gingerly from him, Genos held it delicately as if worried it might explode, or that the Cheeto crumbs that littered its surface would stain his metal fingers. Badd leaned over in spite of himself to read the article as well, squinting to catch the words written in some tiny scratchy font that the writer probably picked for the best spooky effect.

“This gymnasium isn't even in our high school,” Genos pointed out. “How do you suppose we get in there?”

Garou cocked his head at him, still looking painfully confident. “We’ll just sneak in, duh.”

At that, Genos gives him a flat impassive stare, judgement rolling off of him in waves. “Ato High is an all-girls school. If we get caught, the consequences would be far worse than sneaking into just any old high school.”

Garou smiled, seemingly completely unaffected by the threat.

“Then, let’s not get caught.”

“No way,” groans Badd, leaning back in his chair. “I ain’t gonna get caught sneakin’ around a girls school. ‘Specially not to go look for some damned ghost.”

Garou frowns at that, leaning forward, bracing his hands against the scratched plastic of the table.

“Why? You scared?” he asks. His voice is pitched low and threatening, in that raspy tone he uses when he’s trying to goad someone into a fight, intimidate train station insurance agents from pestering him, or coerce Badd into joining him in his stupid plans. His breath fans hot and wet against Badd’s face, and he resists the urge to lean back.

“I ain’t-“

“You a coward Badd? Chickening out?”

“Who the fuck are you calling a cowa-“

“You a pussy? A little bitch bab-“

“FINE!” Badd yells, half to get him to shut up, half just to stop him from breathing all over his face. “I’ll go find your fucking ghost with you,” he says, softer now, defeated. He realises almost immediately after speaking that he’d been yet again, goaded into doing something stupid. “I ain’t scared of some fucking ghost,” he mutters as an add on, although more to himself than anything.

“Good,” smirks Garou, arms folding in smug glee, clearly pleased that his friend was as easy to rile up as ever. “C’mon Genos, don’t be such a baby, come along.” He reaches over to grab his friend’s shoulder, an action that was supposed to show camaraderie. Garou realises belatedly that most social cues usually go straight over Genos’ synthetic fibre enhanced head. So instead, he pats him on the back a few times, in hopes that it will jump start his motors into saying yes. Genos continues to watch him silently, gold eyes burning with the force of his disapproval. Garou, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch under the weight of Genos’ infamously heavy glare.

Badd, realising that his pride won’t allow him to back out at this point, reaches over to start smacking Genos on the back as well. “If you don’t come and we get caught, we’ll say that you told us to do it,” threatens Badd, with all the barely concealed desperation of someone who doesn’t want to be doing something stupid alone. Or alone with Garou, which was inestimably worse.

Genos lets out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing at his temples. Cyborgs don’t seem likely to get headaches, so Garou suspected he did this mostly for show. “Fine,” Genos says finally looking slowly from each of their faces, “I’ll go just to make sure the two of you don’t do anything too idiotic. But on one condition. We go in, and we go out as quick as possible, okay?”

“Yeah-“

“And we don’t get caught.”

...

They all decided to meet up at the station nearest to Ato High at nine o’clock. Nine, because if they went in any later, they might miss the last train by the time they leave, and if they went in earlier, they might end up meeting some straggling students. As Badd had so wisely put it, “who the fuck would be in school after nine?”.

Garou was easy to spot. Even in the dim of the night, his white hair stood out, catching the streetlights in its luminescent fibers. Genos was no better, with the station’s fluorescent lights glinting off his bare metal arms. And Badd…

“Why do you have a bat with you?” Garou asked, eyeing the glossy aluminium bat Badd was carrying as he hurried past the station gantry to join them.

“Ah? This?” Badd held the bat aloft. It seemed strangely at home in his hand. “It’s for self-defense.”

“Against?” prompted Garou.

“The ghost.”

“You intend on hitting a ghost… With a bat?” asks Genos, who possessed an uncanny talent of making even the mildest inquiries sound reproachful.

“I ain’t gonna hit it with my fists, am I?” challenged Badd, tone booking no further arguments.

The notion that a physical attack of any form will likely do no damage to a ghost, is a fact that Genos graciously decides not to mention.

The three of them set off towards the towering cluster of buildings that make up Ato High, guarded as it was, by the large wrought iron gate that snakes its way around the school’s perimeter. After a quick jog around, they decided on a spot to scale the gate, obscured safely from any prying eyes by a particularly dense crop of trees.

The silence of the deserted school grounds weighed heavily on their ears. Even on the soft grassy ground, wet with dew, their footsteps seemed loud. Genos gave the area a quick scan, sending the other two a furtive nod after determining that the grounds were truly, empty.

“Alright, let’s go Mystery Hunters!” Garou says, jumping up from the crouch he’d landed in.

“Dude,” groans Badd, “don’t call us that, that’s lame as fuck.”

Immediately, Garou’s face contorts into that particular scowl he wears whenever his creative brilliance is in question.

“It is not lame,” he hisses, and it’s only from sheer force of will and a natural predilection to uphold his pride that prevents him from outright whining.

“I agree,” says Genos, from behind Garou’s shoulder. Twisting around to him, Garou’s scowl turns smug.

“You see,” he says triumphantly, “Genos a-“

“I think its lame,” Genos agrees, voice flat and gravely serious as it ever is. “Why would we even need a team name? We already have our own names.”

Garou groans loudly, putting his face in his hands.

“I know we have names, Genos. It’s just cooler if we have a team name isn’t it? Plus, its like, useful in emergencies.”

“So, you pick Mystery Hunters?” questioned Badd incredulously.

“What exactly would be an emergency that requires a team name?” questioned Genos incredulously.

“I don’t know!” snapped Garou folding his arms in annoyance. “Maybe the ghost might attack us and one of us needs to tell everyone else to run or something.” Genos seemed to consider that situation seriously for a moment, metal hand coming to rest beneath his chin.

“Wouldn’t it be more prudent then,” he says, “if we call out the names individually to better direct-“

“Alright, alright fine, forget the names,” Garou says loudly over him, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’ve only just stepped in the school grounds and he’s already reached his limit. “Lets just go find the damn ghost and go home okay?”

Armed with a startling lack of direction sense, they trudged around the school grounds idly peering into dim windows, searching for the infamous gymnasium. The warm night air beaded sweat on the back of their necks as they ducked into the shadows of buildings and trees.

They soon found that every single building in the school was indiscernible from the last, especially in the dark. Ato High was an old school, and most of its architecture seemed to stand unchanged from its original build. Unmarked and paved in dreary red brick, the buildings were spaced far apart, linked by simple grey stone pavements. Its old and borderline dilapidated structure made it seem especially primed for hauntings.

After a while of aimless wandering, punctuated by the occasional offhanded comment and Genos’ complaint of the grass staining his shoes, Badd spoke up.

“Is that the gymnasium? ‘S fuckin big. Why ain’t our gymnasium that big?” Badd asks, pointing his bat in the general direction of one of the dimly lit, nondescript school buildings. There’s no indication of why he would claim that particular building to be the gymnasium, other than the fact that there is a door, which gymnasiums need, and a seemingly high ceiling, which gymnasiums ought to have.

“Our school doesn’t have the funds for it,” Genos supplies helpfully, “considering our school is a common neighborhood school in comparison with Ato High, which is considered an upper-class high school, it can be expected that their budget would far exceed ours.”

“Huh,” Badd supplies in response, having already stopped listening to Genos after the fourth word in. Beside them Garou rolled his eyes, squinting at the building.

“That’s the main building idiots. The gymnasium’s gotta be behind the school.”

“How do you know that?” questions Badd, voice dripping in an unnecessary amount of suspicion.

“Because no school has their gymnasiums at the front?”

“That,” interjects Genos, “is statistically unproven.”

Garou taps his foot on the ground, well and truly annoyed. “Well, do you have any suggestions Genos?”

Genos nods once, sharply. “We enter the main building and check the layout of the school through the signboards. They surely have them inside the buildings.”

As much as Garou hated to admit it, it was a sensible plan. The doors in the school were locked, as expected. Although they could easily have forced it open by hand, they were doing their best to remain undetected, and any broken locks could be incriminating evidence.

Trying to get into a school furtively held all the enchanting mystery that all high school students secretly desired, even overpowered teenagers like themselves. In the end there was just something infinitely exciting about clambering through a window, into somewhere they really shouldn’t be going, rather than just busting through a door.

The three of them tumbled into a hallway, where Garou immediately leapt forward like a cat in search of his new prey. Genos and Badd brought up the rear, Badd flicking on the light on his phone to use as a torch.

The hallways inside the school seemed just as creepy as the outside, walls painted a drab grey, lined with past accolades and framed newspaper clippings. The light from Badd’s phone reflected off the dark classroom windows, briefly illuminating rows of worn tables and chairs from inside the rooms.

“Do you hear anything? Huh Genos?” questions Badd, his raspy whisper ringing clear against the stark silence of the empty school. Genos pauses mid stride, eyes darting quickly about the empty hallways. With a soft whir, Genos expands his focus, concentrating his sensors.

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” he says after a conclusive scan of the school.

“Then maybe there ain’t no ghost at all,” Badd decides.

Garou turned from where he had gone to stalk (scout) ahead, frowning back at him, one hand propped on his hip.

“How do you figure that?” he asks, the hint of a challenge already leaking into his voice.

“In like, those ghost huntin’ shows don’t they hear the ghosts through like a radio or some shit? If Genos can’t hear anything then it means there ain’t no ghost, is there?” Badd reasons, waving his hand airily.

“Genos, isn’t a radio,” says Garou.

“Well yeah but, he’s like sorta… Right?” Genos certainly was not.

“I am a cyborg, Badd,” Genos says, with all the weary countenance of a man who has had this conversation far too many times for it to be healthy. “I cannot hear anything that a normal human or cyborg is unable to.”

“Huh,” Badd says, obviously stumped. “You can’t like, change the channel or-”

“No.”

“Not even-“

“No.”

Badd considers this for a long moment. Garou considers leaving them to it and going on ahead.

“That’s kind of lame,” Badd says finally. Genos says nothing in reply. His stony face betrays no clues, but his palpable annoyance hangs in the air between them. Garou wasn’t an expert, but he’s pretty sure that if they didn’t find the ghost soon, this entire outing would end up in a night time brawl. One that would surely result in a hefty amount of collateral damage.

And that would definitely ruin the whole ‘let’s not get caught’ part of the plan.

So instead, he changes the subject.

“I found a sign for the gymnasium. It’s down that hallway.”

Their steps echo down the empty corridors, impossibly loud in the silent air. Garou had already taken the lead, striding on ahead as if he had any clue where he was going. Genos walked slower, gold eyes scanning every imperceptible mote of dust that hung in the air, looking for clues, or any sort of sign of life.

Behind them Badd strolled leisurely, content on leaving the heavy thinking to the other two.

"This way," orders Garou, pointing out the sign above a door to their left. It led out to an open-air corridor, linking it to the gymnasium. To their mild surprise, and Garou's growing enthusiasm, it wasn't even locked.

"Suspicious!" Garou proclaimed, voice a cheery sing song that contrasted oddly with the mood of the room.

Bads could reason that someone had simply forgot to lock it, but decided that he'd rather not start that argument.

The infamous gymnasium was less impressive than Badd had hoped. It was smaller than some gymnasiums he'd seen, and the floors and benches looked scuffed and aged. It looked much more... Normal, than any of them had been expecting. Large high windows bleached the room grey with moonlight, making the room far brighter than the wandering hallways they were in before. Badd felt more like he was here for a training camp, rather than to catch ghosts.

Garou, evidently, did not feel the same. The minute he stepped in, he turned to sniff around the room, climbing up on benches, and scoping out every corner, as if sure the ghost was about to jump out from behind the trashcan.

After a second, Genos pulled out his phone, tapping furiously on it. Perhaps he had already lost interest in the situation, but Badd wasn’t going to call him out on it. Badd was getting pretty bored, pretty fast.

"Do you think its a female ghost?" questioned Badd aloud, mostly to start a conversation before he fell asleep standing up.

"It’s a girls school so, I would imagine so," deduced Genos. He had started dutifully reading the edgy occult post Garou had shown them earlier that day, the light of his phone casting ominous shadows on his face. Badd watched him, tapping his bat to his side mindlessly.

"Is she hot?"

"Is she hot?" spluttered Garou. He turned from where he was perched like an over-sized gargoyle on a crate of basketballs, trying to read the text over Genos' shoulder. "It’s a ghost Badd. Of course, its hot."

Never one to miss an opportunity to be judgmental, Genos paused his reading to give Garou his most withering stare. “Really?” he asked, voice dripping with derision.

"Should’ve known better than to ask," muttered Badd, rolling his eyes, although his twitching lips betrayed his amusement.

They milled around some more, before Garou probably reached the end of his patience, and demanded that all three of them split up. The post itself had no clues on how to summon the ghost, only that it regularly made a mess of the gymnasium in the night. Any passers by outside would hear the vicious clanging of overturned crates of sports supplies, and harshly rebounding balls, bouncing around the echoey chamber. Overall, not a lot to go on.

Garou reasoned that the ghost was probably just shy, and if either of the other two had any concern for their friend’s sanity, they decided not to voice it. Instead, Genos volunteered to check out the storage shed, Badd the perimeter, and Garou on stakeout in the gymnasium.

...

Badd milled around the front door, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. If the ghost wasn't going to turn up, he doubts any amount of 'searching' is going to make them turn up. So instead, he bided his time until he was sure enough time passed for him to return without raising suspicions of slacking off.

As Badd turned to the door, a soft voice spoke up from behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

Badd jolted, body freezing in shock. That, was definitely not a male voice.

"You obviously don't go to school here. What are you doing?"

Badd felt the sweat start to bead around his collar. He can't believe they've been caught already.

Turning slowly, he met the accusatory gaze of the young girl standing behind him. Clad in the grey Ato High school uniform, the dark-haired girl stared him down, arms crossed. Badd might have considered her to be pretty, if he wasn't so worried out of his mind.

"Um," he said, intelligently. "We're here to-" and here, Badd paused. He could, simply tell the truth, but aside from her finding him extremely creepy, there was the other more pressing issue that she simply wouldn't believe him. He was well aware that he looked intimidating enough for people to start making assumptions about him, and the other two didn't have any better. Trying to move as subtly as possible, Badd hid his bat behind his back.

Before Badd could bluster through some sort of cover up, the girl cut in sharply.

"You shouldn't be here, it’s dangerous," she says, crossing her arms. From where she was standing in the shade of the balcony, Badd could barely make out her features, but he just knew she was frowning.

"Dangerous?" Badd repeated, confused.

The girl nodded her head. "Didn't you hear about the monster that lurks here?"

Was she talking about the ghost? Badd wondered.

"You mean the haunting?" Badd questioned, eyebrow raising.

The girl nodded leaning forward a bit as if excited. It was still too dark to make out her features, and Badd could only hope she wouldn't be able to identify him either.

"I heard its even killed someone before! So, you have to go home!"

Badd blinked. He certainly didn't remember Garou or Genos mentioning that little tidbit of info. But it would make sense for the story to get even more blown out of proportion the closer to the source it is.

In any case, he wasn't going to argue with her. He didn't need any more reasons to get the fuck out of this place.

"Alright man, I’m gonna go tell my friends," Badd hesitated before turning back towards the gymnasium door. "Also, uh could you… not tell anyone you saw us here?"

The girl said nothing, continuing to watch him impassively. Eh, thought Badd, it was worth a try.

...

When Badd entered, he found that Garou and Genos had already convened down by the bleachers, Garou with his head in his hands, trying and failing not to look disappointed, and Genos not even attempting not to look bored.

"Guys," Badd called out as he swaggered in, "gig's up, its time to go."

Garou didn't even look up from where he had slumped over on the bench. "We're not leaving till we find something," he snapped.

Badd rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but someone caught us. Some girl saw me and told me to get the fuck outta here."

That caught attention. Both their heads swivelled up to stare incredulously at him.

"There's someone here? At this hour?" questioned Genos, his face twisting into a grimace.

"Yeah man," said Badd, folding his arms. "Don't think she was gonna report us though. She seemed pretty weird."

"Obviously," Genos said, tone sharp. "What kind of normal person would be in school at this time of the night?"

"Nah, like, she seemed pretty worried about us?"

"Like, worried about reporting us?" asked Garou, tone flat with dread.

"No, like she really thought the fucking ghost was gonna eat us or some shit."

For a second, the both of them stared at Badd, before the implications of his words truly sunk in.

Garou leapt to his feet, bringing himself up to his full height, a renewed fire in his eyes.

"That’s amazing," he hissed out, his infamously manic grin already back on his face.

He strode past Badd towards the door, renewed jump in his step. "Where is she? I'm gonna go talk to her. Maybe she knows how to summon it."

"What?!" snapped Genos, stomping after him to grab the back of his shirt. "She told us to leave. I suggest we do what she says so we don't end up in even more trouble."

"Why?" asked Garou, twisting in Genos’ iron grip, grinning so hard he looked nearly shark-like. “We found someone who knows about the ghost! We need to get more info.”

Badd missed the rest of what Genos fired back with, instead throwing open the door and walking out. Outside, the courtyard was empty, the girl nowhere to be seen. Did she already go home? wondered Badd. At least she’d be spared from whatever Garou was going to try to wheedle from her.

Behind him, he heard plenty of shuffling and the sound of scraping metal, before Garou’s head popped up beside his own, and after a second, Genos’ popped up above his own. All three peered out into the empty courtyard, searching.

“You’d think,” piped up Garou, after a moment of wordless staring, “that if a bunch of weird guys turned up at your school to hunt a ghost, you’d at least stick around to see how it went.”

“Not everyone is as free as you,” said Genos, a little too venomously to imply that he’d escaped the scuffle unscathed.

“I thought you said we weren’t doing any hunting,” asked Badd, warily.

“We’re not,” protested Garou, clearly ignoring Genos, “but… If the opportunity arises…”

Genos clicked his tongue impatiently while Badd groaned out loud. Badd rolled his shoulder, shoving Garou and Genos away from where they had chosen to crowd around him at the doorway.

“Luckily for us then, there’s no ghost to hunt.”

“Yeah, lucky,” muttered Garou under his breath.

“Too lucky,” another voice commented, sarcastically.

Garou turned to Genos, annoyance rolling off of him in waves. “Do you ever stop rubbing it in?”

Genos’ eyes widened a fraction, his permanent scowl only growing more pronounced. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Then who the fuck-“ But the group didn’t get to hear the end of Garou’s tirade, as they turned to notice a figure standing in the middle of the gymnasium floor.

Badd slapped Genos’ arm in alarm, and Genos slapped Garou, and Garou slapped Genos back quickly as if any of them had missed the newcomer’s sudden arrival.

Tall and lanky, the figure stood stock still illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the gymnasium’s high windows. Features completely indiscernible, it seemed nearly fuzzy around the edges as if they were peering at it through a frosted window. Although none of them made the identification out loud, all of them decided that the person was decidedly, not human.

They stood in awed, disbelieving silence for a full three seconds marveling at the apparition that, just minutes ago, was mere hearsay. Garou was trembling with either fear or excitement, Badd couldn’t tell, and approached the figure eagerly calling out as he went.

“HEY! Ghost, hey, just wanted to say, BIG fan here.”

The figure did not respond, instead, its form which seemed fuzzy at best, distorted even more the closer Garou got to it. It was starting to look like a badly rendered picture now.

Distantly Badd recalled the girl from before telling him how the ghost had caused at least one confirmed casualty, setting him with mild unease as his friend trawled ever closer to the thing.

“Dude, don’t go so close to it man,” he called out, stepping forward alongside Genos to reel Garou back.

“I doubt that that thing is safe to approach,” muttered Genos, hands clenching at his side. “I’m getting a high energy reading from it.”

As Garou turned to address his friends’ complaints, the figure behind him shuddered violently, and stopped all motion with a low beep, like a paused video.

At Badd’s frantic pointing, all of them watched as the ghost seemed to crack like an eggshell, expanding as if its previous form could contain it no longer.

“This is it? This is the ghost?” Badd asked, rather unnecessarily in Garou’s opinion, waving around his bat in the direction of the growling humanoid figure rapidly growing in size in front of them.

All three of them stood there, watching the monster swell and grow in front of them, its face ripping open to reveal rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Ever the one to fixate on a point completely irrelevant to the situation, Badd turns to Garou again.

“Garou… Do you really think this is hot?” questions Badd, a touch of concern in his voice.

Genos, never one to turn down the opportunity to be rude, says, “he’s always had questionable taste.”

Garou decided to grace neither of them with an answer. Truthfully, he had seen a monster on last week’s episode of Justice Man that looked pretty similar to this one. He had thought it looked pretty cool. He wisely decided upon keeping that tidbit of info to himself.

In front of them, the beast let out a terrible growl, the tremor from it sending pieces of plaster raining down from the ceiling.

“That, is definitely not a ghost,” concludes Genos decisively.

“Yeah?” asked Garou, sarcastically, “how’d you tell?”

“I am getting an analysis reading that determines it to be a ‘monster’,” informs Genos primly.

Both Garou and Badd were spared from answering as one of the monster’s hands shot out, causing them both to leap out the way to avoid it.

The monster was now large enough to block out the light from the windows, towering over the three teenagers. The monster’s cry was deafening, the very sound of its voice causing the window panes to tremble violently. “Little children!” it snarled, rearing itself up to its fullest height, head brushing the top of the gymnasium’s tall domed ceiling. “I will grind your bones and eat you whole!”

Garou nodded sagely at that. “Grinding bones is a very textbook level monster thing to do, I’m impressed.”

With dexterity uncommon to a thing of such size, it swung its arm down with surprising accuracy towards Badd, nearly flattening him, and obliterating the chaffed wooden floorboards beneath his feet. Narrowly avoiding the hit, Badd turned and smacked the offending massive hand with his bat. A dull thud rang out in the gymnasium, loud enough to still be discernible over the monster’s roars.

Behind the beast, they could hear Genos yelling something that could have been an inquiry as to their wellness, or just a plain insult. With Genos it could go either way, really. Badd’s hit seemed to cause some effect on the monster, as it snatched its hand back quickly, cradling it as if injured.

“Alright, just hitting it works!” called out Badd.

“Great,” answered Garou, sounding no less excited even as he flitted to the side to avoid another massive swing of the arm, “lets beat the shit out of it and take down this monster, Mystery Hunters!”

Even from different corners of the gymnasium, Garou could hear the other two groan.

“Fucking stop trying to call us that!”

“We are not calling ourselves that!”

The sound of the monster’s thrashings thankfully drowned out Garou’s bitter grumbles at their response. Ducking forward, he slid under an outstretched arm to deliver a few swift, powerful blows to the creature’s knee, causing it to roar loudly in pain and stumble back. All three of them converged on the creature, raining it with blows, confusing it with an onslaught of pain from all directions.

The moment of its lack of focus was all they needed. A low hissing hum filled the air before a blinding pillar of light shot out, blowing perfectly through the back of the monster’s head, and right through the ceiling. It took a while for Badd and Garou’s eyes to readjust to the dim light of the room after that incineration flash, but what awaited them made them wish halfheartedly that they never saw it.

Beyond the singed gaping hole in the now still monster’s head, was a clear view of the night sky, viewed through the giant, still smoking, gaping hole in the ceiling of the gymnasium.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to use that?!” called out Garou, over the din of hissing steam and crumbling debris.

Genos gave a non-committal grunt in response. “My mentor allowed the use of my incinerator cannons for dire occasions. This seemed like one of them.”

Badd gave an understanding grunt. Garou shook his head.

“We destroyed like, half this place!”

“Eh,” says Badd, shouldering his bat nonchalantly, “I don’t think its that bad.”

Just as those words were uttered, the winds outside picked up, causing the body of the huge, dead monster to sway, before it fell over with a ground shaking boom, taking out the entire back wall of the gymnasium.

The three of them could only stare in horrified awe at the shambled remains of what remained of the supposedly haunted room. Quietly, they turned to make their way back out of the school in total silence.

...

“So,” says Mr Saitama, rubbing his face for what had to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes, “you’re telling me that you destroyed an entire building, because you had to?”

“Yep,” says Badd taking care to pop the p.

“Yeah,” Garou agreed, shrugging.

Genos said nothing in response, instead staring down his knees with all the weary resolve of a samurai waiting for death.

Mr Saitama groaned loudly, leaning back in his chair. All three of them were sitting crowded around Mr Saitama‘s desk, after being called out of their classes. There were plenty of curious glances thrown their way from the other teachers bustling around their cubicles in the teacher’s office, the warming smell of freshly made coffee and early morning chatter contrasting oddly with the anguished expression on their homeroom teacher’s face. Unsurprisingly, the officials at Ato High had called the police after finding the carnage, who then checked the security tapes, and then somehow managed to identify them.

Perhaps the fact that this was not the first time they had been involved with the police for what Mr Saitama had coined as “various shenanigans”, had made them all the more easier to identify. Personally, Garou believed that the only reason the police found them so quickly was due to a biased belief that they were behind any and all teenager-based incidents. Of course, in this case they were right, but still.

Mr Saitama sighed dramatically, yet again. “Were you aware that the buildings in Ato High, including the one you destroyed, are all historical buildings?”

“No shit?” asked Badd.

“No shit,” repeated Mr Saitama, gravely.

“Aw c’mon man,” whined Garou, slouching in his hard-folding chair, “there was a monster there! You couldn’t just expect us to leave it there!”

“You aren’t supposed to be fighting monsters! That’s the Hero Association’s job! You’re just students! Also,” snapped Mr Saitama, hand slamming down on the table with a bang, “you’re supposed to call me Mr Saitama, not ‘man’!”

“It tried to eat us!” protested Garou.

“Then you should’ve run and called the authorities!”

Beside him Badd rolled his eyes. “As if they’d come in time,” he muttered darkly under his breath.

Saitama pressed his hand back to his face as if to calm himself. Badd wondered if he’d end up flattening his face by the end of this session.

“Why were you even in Ato High that night?”

“Ghost hunting,” answered Garou immediately.

“You,” started Mr Saitama slowly, “went to a girls school… At night… To look for ghosts?”

All three of them nodded.

Mr Saitama sighed, for the umpteenth time. “Should’ve known,” he mumbled softly.

Turning to the table, he shuffled his papers around nosily, seemingly deep in thought. As they fidgeted in their seats, Badd casting pointed glances to the clock, Mr Saitama finally paused in rearranging his table, setting out three identical forms.

Turning towards them, he leant forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands, looking the most serious he’d been since this meeting begun. Sandwiched uncomfortably between Badd and Genos, Garou squirmed uneasily under the intense stare.

“Anything else to say for yourselves?”

No answer.

Mr Saitama tried again, “Genos,” he said, singling out the only reputable student out of the three, “anything to say?”

“I,” blurted Genos, speaking for the first time since being called to the room, “was dragged into it by these two, Mr Saitama!”

Beside him, Garou scoffed. Badd narrowed his eyes, incredulous.

“You throwin’ us under the bus, Gen?”

Genos turned to him, gold eyes flashing. “I told you we shouldn’t have gone there!”

“Genos,” Mr Saitama cut in, voice weary, “it was your incinerator cannons that caused the blast wasn’t it? You’re the one on thinnest ice here, dude.”

Genos shut his mouth with an audible clack.

Under the stares of everyone at the table, he finally continued, “it was necessary to dispose of the monster, Mr Saitama. I was merely doing my job as a vigilant member of the community.”

Mr Saitama deadpanned him a look as if to say vigilant members of the community don’t break into schools at night but said nothing against it.

When Genos made no move to say anything more, Mr Saitama shook his head despairingly, handing out the forms.

“I want all three of you to fill out these. Its an apology letter, something I’m sure you three are already familiar with,” Mr Saitama said, eyeing them meaningfully, “five thousand words. No less.”

He went on, amid cries of protests from mostly Garou and Badd, “AND, one full month of detention.”

Garou choked on air. “One entire month of detention?!”

“You’re lucky they’re not suspending you.”

The three of them wilted, grumbling half hearted protests as they held tightly to their forms.

“Okay,” said Mr Saitama, waving them off, “get back to your classes you lot. I still need to call your guardians.”

The boys kicked off amidst groans and halfhearted apologies.

“I want those apologies on my desk tomorrow morning!” he called after them as the door to the office swung shut.

“Were you talking about Ato High? Ah, that brings back memories,” smiles Miss Fubuki, leaning over her desk divider to Mr Saitama’s desk.

“Hm, did you go to school there?” questions Mr Saitama, swatting her hand away as she reached to pluck the case files from the table.

“Oh yes,” replies Miss Fubuki, finally giving up and leaning back in her chair with a nostalgic smile. “I had a lot of fun there. Sadly though, we never had any camps because there used to be this terrible rumor that a monster lurked the halls at night.”

“Oh?” asked Mr Saitama, looking bored.

“Yes,” says Miss Fubuki, eyes unnaturally bright, “we all thought it was just nonsense, but one day, one of the girls in the year below me turned up missing. Everyone was so sure it was the monster that ate her.”

Mr Saitama gave a noncommittal grunt, fiddling with his fingers.

Miss Fubuki smiled knowingly. “You’re starting to feel really thankful that they came back safe, aren’t you?”

Mr Saitama sighed, sending her a rueful smile. “I’m starting to feel really thankful I never decided to teach there.”

...

“Do you know what the worst part is?” Garou asks, as they trudge back up the staircase back to their classroom, “we never did get to see the ghost.”

Genos shot him a withering glare. “That’s because there was no ghost. People just caught wind of the monster and started the rumor.”

Badd grunted in agreement, shoulders hunching as he thought about the scolding his mother was sure to dole out once he got home.

“By the way,” a familiar voice called out right as he reached the top step. “I wanted to thank you.”

Turning slowly, Badd met the smiling gaze of a girl standing a few steps behind him. Squinting, he recalled the girl’s black hair and grey uniform.

“Oh its you,” Badd said, sending her a lazy wave. After all that drama, he’d just about forgotten about the weird girl from the school. “What are you doin’ here?”

The girl’s smile widened, her brown eyes glittering with an emotion Badd couldn’t discern. “I came by to see you. I have to go really soon, but I wanted to let you know I’m thankful for what you did.”

Badd huffed. “You mean breaking one of your school’s buildings?”

“I meant killing that monster but…”

“Eh, was nothin’,” he muttered, strangely uncomfortable under her stare.

“Tell your friends I said thank you as well,” the girl said insistently, climbing another step up towards him.

Badd cocked an eyebrow. “Tell em yourself,” he said. Poking his head around the staircase landing, he was surprised to see Garou and Genos already standing still on the upper steps, staring down at him.

“Who are you talking to?” Genos asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“C’mere man,” Badd called, waving them over, “this kid wants to talk to you guys.”

Garou peeked his head over the side of the staircase railing, looking wholly confused.

“Who?” he asked, gold eyes flitting around.

Badd groaned, annoyed that they were choosing to be so blatantly rude. Turning around impatiently, he was met with a clear view of the empty stairwell, illuminated by the large windows. Confused, he ran down the steps, peering over the railings just like Garou to see where the girl had went.

Looking back up, he met the strangely concerned gazes of his two friends, peering at him with raised brows.

“Did Mr Saitama set you so much work that you already went crazy?” Garou asked, shaking his head.

“What,” Badd spluttered, face colouring in spite of himself. “Fuck off man, didn’t you hear me talking to her?”

“To who?” Genos questioned again, face pinching in exasperation. “We only heard you talking to yourself.”

Badd stared at him, mouth agape. His head whipped between his friends and down the stairwell, as if unsure who to believe.

“But I- But you-“ Badd stammered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

Climbing back down, Garou snatched him up by the arm, half dragging him up the stairs.

“There, there,” he said, patting Badd’s back in a manner that was supposed to be consoling, but came out mildly condescending. “Let’s get you to class, and you can take a nap at your desk as usual.”

Genos sighed, positioning himself on Badd’s other side and gripping his shoulder with a bit too much force to be comforting. “Maybe after your usual illegal naps you’d feel better.”

Despite his own irritable protests, Badd allowed himself to be dragged off bodily to his classroom, secretly agreeing that maybe a good nap was exactly what he needs.

#opm #opm fanfiction #metal bat #badd #garou #genos #one punch man #this is disgustingly long and im sorry #i saw everyone's requests im just soooo slow at writing im sorry pls hang in there i love u all #i hope u r all staying safe in this difficult times now too

[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x03

Book 1 :: 01 - 02 - 03 Not a lot to say about this one, except that, on watching this episode for the first time, I was severely disappointed that Sam and Dean went to all that trouble to make those Homeland Security badges, and didn’t even think to use them to, oh, I don’t know, stop a plane from taking off? (Also, ngl, so mad that the continuity didn’t remember that they’d had Dean dealing with poltergeists before when they got to the episode Home.) Also, Moonfiends are completely made up by me, based on this one little bit of folklore I found about young women who look at a blue moon getting pregnant from it and giving birth to monsters. SPN lore is surprisingly limited for a show with hundreds of episodes, so I’m going to be tossing in more of my own lore to fill in the gaps in this story. (This being mostly self-indulgent nonsense, there’s going to be a lot of lore, a lot of ethical debates, and at least some linguistics.) And this chapter is dedicated to everyone who’s liked the last two parts, I absolutely wouldn’t have had the courage to continue posting this without you. Especially @spideypoolalways, and @lyratalus​ and @millieccino for those lovely comments <3

Allentown, Pennsylvania – Saturday 3rd December 2005

Meira makes Dean tell her about the poltergeist on their way to Pennsylvania. It’s a good story, and it’s also a reminder that John Winchester is a real person, her grandfather by blood. She knew about him, of course, but he was long dead by the time she came into the world, and honestly, she’d never given him much thought. Now, she’s suddenly aware that if it was her in her dad’s place, she wouldn’t be half so composed.

They don’t even stop to find a motel before heading to the airport where Jerry works. He greets Dean with no small amount of relief, and then shakes hands all around. “And this must be Sam, right?” He asks when he gets to Sam.

“That’s right.” Sam confirms. “And this is Meira.”

“Pleasure.” Jerry says, sincere but perfunctory, before leading them inside. He reminisces a little on the way to his office, and Meira listens in fascination, but once they get there, it’s right down to business. “Okay, listen to this.” He says. “It sounded like it was up your alley. Normally I wouldn’t have access to this. It’s the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

At first, it’s just a crackly recording of a may day signal, and then it fuzzes out to be replaced by a sound that makes Meira reach for her blade on pure instinct. Pain lances through her, and she flinches hard.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jerry asks.

Meira nods. “Took me by surprise, is all.” She says dismissively.

“Alright, well, it took off from here.” Jerry explains. “Crashed about 200 miles south. Now, they’re saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurised somehow, nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board, only seven got out alive.”

“Seven people survived?” Meira echoes in surprise.

Jerry’s eyebrows furrow. “That surprises you?” He asks carefully.

Meira shrugs with a grimace. “That sounded demonic to me. Sometimes spirits can affect radios and such, but it’s usually just static, psychic residue. That was way too loud to be residue. And demons aren’t known for leaving survivors.” It isn’t like she can tell them that she understands Hellspeech well enough. It isn’t like human languages, which she’s always been able to understand, but Crowley was one of the few creatures in existence that hadn’t thought she was an abomination. Or, he had, it’s just he didn’t have a problem with abominations, so he’d taught her how to understand his, heh, ‘native’ language.

Yeah, she definitely isn’t telling these two hunters, who aren’t yet her dad and uncle, that the King of Hell, or King of the Crossroads as he is now, taught her how to understand demons. Or that this one is fucking gloating on the radio of a plane it had just caused to crash.

Jerry pales. Sam and Dean both turn to stare at her, eyebrows raised. “Demonic?” Jerry asks, quiet and strained.

“I can’t be sure.” Meira lies. “But that would be my guess, yeah.”

“Well,” Sam says slowly, “we’re going to need passenger manifests, a list of survivors, and-”

“And any way we could take a look at the wreckage?” Dean interjects.

Jerry takes a breath to marshal himself, and Meira is actually impressed by how well he  “The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage?” He shakes his head grimly. “The NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”

Dean nods slowly, and then shakes his head in dismissal. “No problem.”

Meira has to bite back a grin, and once they’ve gotten the lists of passengers and survivors from Jerry and they’re leaving, she nudges Dean with her elbow and asks, “No problem, huh?” Dean just grins back, smug and cocky, and, oh, yeah, this is going to be good.

A short drive and an endless wait later, which Meira fills with reading a paperback she picked up from a bookshop across the street, and Sam passes with pacing and frustration until Meira gives in and starts reading aloud in an over-dramatic fashion, Dean returns with brand new fake IDs for all of them. Sam, of course, immediately remembers his impatience, and huffs, “You’ve been in there forever!”

“You can’t rush perfection.” Dean retorts, flipping one of the cards over to Meira, who catches it between the pages of her book, then retrieves it eagerly.

“Homeland security?” Sam asks incredulously.

Meira whoops. “Oh, man. Yes.”

“See?” Dean says to Sam. “She knows an awesome idea when she hears one.”

“The doors this baby is going to open.” Meira agrees in delight. “The prank opportunities will be endless and glorious.”

Sam rounds on her, while Dean bursts out laughing. “Pranks?”

Meira blinks at him in feigned wide-eyed innocence. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to scare the shit out of someone by threatening them with charges of treason or something.” She points out. She wishes Pabbi were here, or Jace. They’ve always been better at coming up with the truly hilarious pranks. Sam just shakes his head and gets back in the car. Meira and Dean share a grin, and then follow to discuss the case and plan their next move.

Which turns out to be interrogating the passenger in the psychiatric hospital. Meira keeps quiet and lets Dean and Sam do most of the talking, wishing she could see the state of the man’s soul. She doesn’t really need to, to know he’s disturbed by what he saw, but it would be nice to know how disturbed. Whether he’d prefer the illusion of normality, or if doubting his own perception is doing more harm than good. In her own, limited, twenty-five years of experience with human souls, she’s never seen anything so damaging as doubting their own perception, but in some cases, she has to admit that the lie does seem to help people hold it together through otherwise traumatic incidents.

“It’s okay.” Sam says, as Meira considers everything she can read from Max Jaffrey’s body language and comes to a decision. She’s pretty sure Sam and Dean are going to hate it, but they can suck it up and deal. “Just tell us what you thought you saw. Please.” Sam entreats, and it works.

Max sighs, and starts, haltingly, to talk. “There was… this- man.” He begins, stops, licks his lips nervously. “And… uh, he had these… eyes.” He gestures vaguely towards his own face.

“Black eyes?” Meira asks.

Max’s head jerks up and he stares at her with wide eyes, while Sam and Dean both turn to stare at her. “Y-yeah. How did you…?”

Meira takes a step forward from where she was loitering, and claims the last open seat, opposite Max. “You weren’t seeing things.” She tells him simply.

“Meira.” Dean growls.

“Man deserves to know he’s not crazy.” Meira replies without looking away from Max, who’s shaking his head.

“That can’t have been real.” He protests. “I saw him-”

“Saw him what?” Sam prompts gently, although the look Meira sees him direct at her out of the corner of her eye is hard.

Max’s next breath shakes. “He- he opened the emergency exit. But that’s- that’s impossible. I mean, I looked it up, there’s something like two tonnes of pressure on that door.” He insists, looking between the three of them, pleading for an explanation, any explanation, that makes sense.

“Do you really believe you were seeing things?” Meira asks him.

He stares at her, then swallows hard. It’s several long, long minutes before he finally answers. “No.” He says, so quiet Meira almost can’t hear him. “Some-something made the plane crash, right? And if it wasn’t- wasn’t what I saw, then… what was it?”

Meira smiles at him, gentle but proud. “It was exactly what you saw.”

“But how?” Max demands.

“The black eyes are a fairly good indicator that the man you saw was possessed by a demon.” Meira informs him, and Max’s eyes widen in belated fear. “Demons do possess far greater strength than your average human, so one could absolutely open the emergency exit while the plane was still in the air.”

“Oh.” Max says thickly. “Demons actually exist.”

“I’m afraid so.” Meira agrees wryly. When it seems Max is too busy processing that to have any immediate questions, she nods. “Do you have your phone with you?” She asks. Max shakes his head wordlessly. “Do you know your number off by heart?” She asks, not hopeful.

But, it turns out, there are some benefits to being stuck in 2005. People aren’t quite so used to their phones doing their thinking for them, and some of them do, still, memorise their own phone numbers. Max rattles his off without a problem, and Meira whips her own phone out to save it. Then she sends him a text. “There. Now, when you get out of here, if you have any questions, you can call me.” She explains.

Max nods. Then he shakes his head. “You’re not Homeland Security, are you?” He asks.

Meira grins at him. “Special branch.” She tells him, then raps her knuckles on the table, and stands. “Don’t worry, Mr Jaffrey, we’ll get the thing that did this.” She assures him, and a little of the fear in him melts away as he nods.

It isn’t until they’re out of the hospital that Sam rounds on her. Meira honestly wasn’t expecting it. “What the hell was that?” He demands. Meira stares at him incredulously. “Why did you tell him that? You scared him half to death!”

“Um, no.” Meira snaps, indignant at this false accusation. “I didn’t. The demon did.”

“And he was perfectly fine thinking he’d imagined the whole thing, so why did you-?!”

“Checking yourself into a psychiatric hospital is the exact opposite of fine!”

“He would have gotten over it! And then he could go home and carry on his normal life, but instead, you had to go and drop demons on him!”

“You have no guarantee that he would have gotten over it!”

“You have no guarantee how well he’ll handle demons, but that didn’t stop you!”

“Oh, so we should have just joined in on gaslighting him, then?”

“Whoa! Okay, time out!” Dad barks, physically inserting himself between Meira and Rob- No, it’s Sam, Sam who is not yet her uncle and Rob hasn’t been born yet. Meira blinks rapidly as she backs up a step, and then another. She didn’t realise how in each other’s face they were getting until Dad intervened. Dean. Until Dean intervened. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying not to feel too much like her family’s been ripped away from her all over again. “Okay, let’s all just chill.” Dean instructs firmly. “What’s done is done, Sam.”

“It shouldn’t have been.” Sam insists through gritted teeth. “People shouldn’t have to deal with all this unless they don’t have any other choice.”

“Hey, man, I agree with you, but there’s no helping it now.” Dean repeats. Sam scowls.

“He already had to deal with it. It nearly killed him.” Meira points out. “I’m not going to go around shouting it from the rooftops, okay. Not least of all because people would think I’m nuts, but… Do you know how hard it is, to have the whole world telling you that you’re the problem? That there’s something wrong with you, not something wrong out there? No one deserves that!”

Sam sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, and it’s a gesture that’s going to carry through the rest of his life, all the way until he’s in his sixties and a father and an uncle exasperated with his oh so headstrong niece. But instead of patiently and logically ripping all of Meira’s dreams of chaos and glory to shreds, he just shakes his head and heads for the Impala without another word. It leaves Meira feeling strangely like she’s the one who just lost that argument. Or maybe lost something more important by winning it.

“You know, Sam ran away.” Dean says suddenly.

Meira startles, and is half an instant away from saying something really stupid, like ‘yeah, I know, Dad, you’ve told me this story about a dozen times’, but manages to stop herself just in time. “Oh?” She asks instead, her voice wobbling slightly.

Dean glances at her and grimaces faintly in apology. “Yeah. He wanted to get away from hunting, from the supernatural, be normal or whatever.” He shrugs as if to say the notion baffles him. It baffles Meira, too, but then, she never has been and never will be ‘normal’, and she’s never really felt like her life was missing anything. “Then the thing that killed our mom killed his girlfriend.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.” Meira says, trying desperately to remember that this is supposed to be news to her, not ancient family history.

“Yeah, well, it makes it pretty hard for him to argue that you should’ve let that guy live in ignorant bliss. He tried that, and it came back to bite him, it could come back to bite this guy, too. But I think he wishes the world worked that way. It ought to. People shouldn’t have to be afraid of the monsters in the dark.”

“People shouldn’t have to be afraid of robbers, either, but we still lock our doors at night.” Meira replies softly. “If people knew, if it was common knowledge what was out there, yeah, maybe they’d be afraid, but maybe they’d line their doors and windows in salt, and get anti-possession tattoos, and then go right on living their normal lives.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.” He doesn’t sound like he believes it, though. Meira can’t exactly blame him. There’s a reason the supernatural has stayed more or less hidden for the last several hundred years, and it’s because most people don’t want to believe it’s true, so they refuse to see it. “Still think it was kind of shitty to just drop demons on him and then leave.”

Meira pulls a face, hunching down against a lecture she knows probably isn’t coming. “I gave him my number. And once we’re done with this, I’ll probably call him if he doesn’t call me and give him the full lecture on demons and theology as it applies to reality.” Somewhere Dean and Sam can’t hear her to question her in depth knowledge of the workings of Hell.

“You hunted demons before?” Dean asks in surprise, finally starting towards the Impala as well.

The answer is yes. On a normal day, demons wouldn’t really be difficult for her. She is anathema to them, after all. “No.” Meira lies.

“Then how do you know enough to give the full lecture?” Dean asks, giving her a look as he opens the driver’s door. Meira doesn’t answer until they’re both in the car with a sulking Sam, and once they’re in, Dean doesn’t give her the opportunity. “You said you don’t really hunt, but you’re a freaking encyclopedia. Moonfiends?” He prompts.

Meira sighs, and resigns herself to cobbling bits and pieces of the truth into a coherent whole, because infinite angelic memory isn’t something she’s going to bring up. “Okay, that one is because my best friend is a moonfiend, so I got a first person account.” She defends. “But my aunt and uncle keep- kept a supernatural library, and I read a lot as a kid.”

“Huh.” Dean muses as they pull out onto the road. “Okay, I’m just gonna ask. You best friend is a moonfiend?” He sounds incredulous.

Meira pulls a face at him through the rear view mirror. “Azura.” She confirms defiantly.

“What exactly is a moonfiend?” Sam asks, turning to look at her, putting aside his irritation in favour of academic curiosity. Meira beams fondly at him, because this is why Sam has always been her favourite uncle. “I know you said they’re kind of like mothmen, but mothmen are a really specific type of vengeful nature spirit.”

“Well, no, they’re more like furies. They’re not spirits, they’re corporeal, but they’re born from… desecrated ground. Furies are born from human sins against humans, mothmen are born from human sins against nature.” Meira explains, leaning forward as she gets into explaining. “A moonfiend is actually more like a werewolf in metaphysical characteristics, but like mothmen in physical characteristics.”

“So, they’re subject to the phases of the moon?” Sam checks.

Meira nods. “A moonfiend is born when a virgin, and that’s not just a sexual virgin, but a magical and metaphysical virgin, too, stares too long at an unfiltered blue moon.”

Dean actually takes a moment away from watching the road to turn and stare at her. Sam gapes for several minutes, until he finally manages to ask. “Blue moons happen every three years. Why aren’t they everywhere?”

“Well, half the time the pregnancy kills the mother before the baby is viable. Or the mother kills the baby after she’s given birth because, well, it’s pretty obviously not human. All that on top of just how hard it is to count as a metaphysical virgin these days.” Meira points out. “Or what counts as unfiltered. I mean, glasses, smog, clouds, astral disturbances.”

“Astral disturbances?” Sam questions.

“Okay!” Dean says loudly, interrupting Meira before she can even start to explain. “I’m glad you two have made up, you nerds, but can we figure out our next step here? I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve never hunted demon before.” Meira has to sit back and let the weirdness of that statement wash over her. This is her Dad’s first ever demon hunt. Weird. “Are we even sure it is a demon?” He asks, glancing back at Meira and sounding like he wishes he could hope, but he doesn’t. “I mean, this doesn’t exactly seem like demon MO… does it?”

Meira grimaces. “It’s not tempting mortals to sin, sure, but… they like to spread pain and suffering, death and destruction. It’s like a hobby.” She chirps, all dark humour.

“And this one’s hobby is plane crashes?” Dean demands incredulously. “That seems a little… I don’t know, modern.” He mutters, and Meira snickers. “Jesus. Okay. Evolving with the times or not, it’s still gotta be possessing someone right?” Meira nods when Dean’s eyes flicker to her in the mirror. “Great, so it could be anyone right now. How the hell are we gonna find this thing?” He asks, and Meira’s heart leaps into her throat. It’s stupid, she knows that Dean’s never done this before, but he’s her dad and he sounds overwhelmed and that scares her.

“Dean?” Sam asks, obviously picking up on the same thing. “What…?”

Dean sighs. “I don’t know, man, this is kind of out of our league, don’t you think? Demon’s aren’t like the rest of the shit we hunt. Even wendigos, they still- there’s still rhyme and reason to what they do, you know? Demons, man…” He pauses and sighs, hands going white-knuckled on the wheel. “This is… this is big, Sam. I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah.” Sam agrees quietly, staring intently out of the wind-shield. “Me too.”

Meira swallows and doesn’t say ‘me three’, even though she really wants to. She wants all of her dads. She wants her grace free so that she’s not quite so helpless without them. “Hey.” She says, and ploughs on even though her voice shakes a little. “We can do this. Okay, it might be an entire order of magnitude bigger than a vengeful spirit, but it’s the same basics, right? So, how do we find our monster once we’ve figured out what it is?”

“We figure out what it wants.” Sam says practically. “Because that’s how we’ll know where it’s going to be.” Then he shakes his head. “But if all it wants is to cause plane crashes… I mean, do you have any idea how many flights take off from even just one state every day? There’s no way we could find it.”

That is a good point. Meira grimaces. She’s still trying to figure out how the hell they can do anything about this when Dean slams a flat palm against the wheel, making both her and Sam jump. “Son of a bitch.” He swears sharply, in a tone of revelation. “The survivors.”

Meira blinks. “Dean?” Sam asks, in equal bewilderment.

“The message, on the voice recorder. The demon, it said-”

“‘No survivors.’” Sam echoes. “But there were, there were seven.”

“Yeah, and if this were a vengeful spirit…” Dean trails off pointedly.

“It’d want to finish the job.” Sam realises, nodding along. Then he dives on the bag at his feet to pull out the list of passengers and survivors.

“It was gloating.” Meira interjects, a touch amused. “Prematurely. It’s gotta be so pissed it failed to kill everyone on that flight. I mean, talk about embarrassing.” Dean snorts. “So, now we know what it wants. Now we’ve just gotta figure out where it’s going to be.”

“Do you think…” Sam begins, tapping a finger rapidly on the side of the sheet with the survivors on it. “I mean, if it was a spirit, I’d say for sure, but… Do you think it’ll want to stick to killing them in plane crashes? Because that would be a way to narrow down who it’s going after next.” He points out.

“Sounds like a lead to me.” Dean agrees, and Sam immediately pulls out his phone and starts scanning over the list, before dialling a number.

“I mean, demons basically are vengeful spirits, just ramped up to a thousand on a scale of one to ten.” Meira muses to Dean while Sam hangs up and tries another. “So, yeah, some patterns of behaviour probably do carry over, at least a little.”

“That is so not comforting.” Dean mutters.

“Hey, Jerry, it’s Sam.” Sam greets. “I was just trying to get in touch with the pilot. You said he was a friend, so I thought you might-” He trails off, and then snaps “Dean.” so urgently that Dean automatically takes his eyes off the road to look over at him on high alert. “The pilot’s going up in less than an hour.”

“Shit.” Dean swears, and floors the gas.

“Look, Jerry,” Sam is saying into the phone, “is there any way you can get in touch with him, convince him not to go up?” A pause. “Please try. We’re on our way.” He hangs up, jaw tight. “How soon can we get to the airfield in Nazareth?”

“Forty-five minutes.” Dean announces, then somehow makes the Impala go even faster. “Forty minutes.”

“Okay, so we need to figure out how to get rid of a demon in forty minutes.” Sam states.

“Exorcisms?” Dean suggests.

“Do you know any by heart?” Sam retorts.

“I do.” Meira offers. It’s not exactly hard when one’s fluent in the language of angels and can invoke the name of god in it. Pretty much anything becomes an exorcism then. ‘Go away’ could count as an exorcism, as long as you followed up with ‘in the name of the lord’ or something similar.  “Do we have any holy water?” She asks, not daring to hope.

“Uh, no.” Dean replies.

Meira winces, and amends her request. “Do we have water and a rosary?”

“Rosary is in the boot.” Dean tells her, while Sam retrieves a bottle of water from his bag. After about five minutes of bickering, Meira convinces him to pull over so that she can hop out and grab the rosary. Dean’s peeling out of the layby before she’s even got the door closed again, and then she screws the top off the bottled water, dumps the rosary inside, and sets about blessing it. She really, really hopes this works, and isn’t contingent on her grace being able to affect the world beyond her skin. She’s never officially been ordained or anything, but active grace or not, she’s still a fucking archangel.

“That should be holy water now.” Meira says once she’s done, handing the water back to Sam.

“Should?” Dean barks.

“I’ve never done this before, okay?” Meira shoots back, unable to keep a hint of defensive panic from her tone. “I have the qualifications for it, but I never thought I needed to check that it would work!” Dean pulls a face, but lets it go. Meira swallows down her fear. “You should- you should check on the others while we have the time.” She says to Sam, and he nods. He spends the drive going through the list of survivors and pretending to be a United Britannia Airlines survey. While he’s doing that, Meira calls Max, which turns into an impromptu explanation of how to identify demons.

By the time Meira’s off the phone, Sam’s gone through the rest of the survivors. “I still can’t get in touch with the flight attendant.” Sam states, hanging up the phone again.

“Given her job, I’d say that’s a bad sign.” Dean says dryly.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. I’m going to call Jerry, see if he can tell me when she’s working next.” He explains, and then does just that. After a brief introduction, he gives Jerry the woman’s name, “Amanda Walker,” and waits a couple of minutes while Jerry does the research he can’t while he’s stuck on the highway. “Oh?” Sam says, an edge to his voice Meira really doesn’t like. “This evening? Look, Jerry-” A long pause. “No, I understand. Okay. Yeah, we’re on our way. Bye.”

“She’s working tonight?” Dean asks in dismay.

“Yeah. Flight leaves at eight. And there’s no way Jerry can ground the flight.” Sam adds in dismay.

Dean takes a bracing breath. “We’re just going to have to stop this son of a bitch before he can get that far.” He announces, and Meira tries to bolster her own confidence with his.

Nazareth, Pennsylvania – Saturday 3rd December 2005

By the time they get to the airfield, there are already two men walking across the tarmac to a small plane. “Shit.” Dean swears, and they all fling themselves out of the car.

“Mr Lambert!” Sam calls as they jog over. Security inevitably tries to stop them, but Dean flashes a badge at them, almost too fast for them to see more than that it looks sort of official, but it is enough to get them past. “Mr Lambert!” Sam calls again, and one of the two men nudges the other, and he turns.

“Yeah?” The second man says, so he must be Jerry’s friend, the pilot.

Meira looks at the other one, who’s watching them with a sort of sceptical hostility. She holds her hand out to him. “Agent Meira Geyad.” She greets, watching him closely, but there’s no reaction except a raised eyebrow as he takes her hand. Oh, hell. She starts to turn, but then a fist meets her face with enough force to send her sprawling.

“Shit!” Dean swears.

“Chuck!” The other man shouts in horror. “Wha-” He’s cut off by an awful crunching noise that makes Meira’s stomach turn over in guilt. It’s followed by a splash, and the hissing of corruption being melted away by a holy blessing. Holy water worked then, thank God, Meira thinks dizzily, finally healing enough to look up.

The demon grabs for Sam, getting him by the throat, and Dean yells his name in desperation. Meira starts to spit out the simplest exorcism she knows, but before she can get more than three words in, the demon has dropped Sam and kicked her in the ribs hard enough to wind her. Hard enough to break ribs, actually, but those heal quickly like her fractured cheekbone did. It takes a little longer to catch her breath, and by then, the demon has abandoned its meatsuit, streaming out of Chuck Lambert’s mouth and leaving him to collapse to the ground.

“Jesus.” Dean breathes. “Sam?”

“Fine.” Sam rasps.

“Meira?” Dean checks, dropping to his knees beside her. “You alright?” Meira groans, and takes the hand he offers her, letting him haul her up into a sitting position. “I’m guessing that wasn’t how an exorcism is supposed to go.”

“No, it realised what I was trying to do and left before I could send it back to hell.” Meira huffs, rubbing at her side just to check that her ribs are back where they’re supposed to be.

“Why’d it flinch at your name?” Dean asks curiously.

“Ge-Iad is one of the names of God.” Meira explains.

“Never heard that one before.” Dean says, eyebrows rising. “I thought you used Christ to test for demons.”

“The more often the name is used without faith, the less power it holds over the demonic.” Meira replies. “You can amp it up by using a language like Latin, which is both dead and stuffed full of religious ritual by now, but, you have any idea how many people say ‘Jesus Christ’ as an invective, without a thought as to why they swear that way?”

“And Ge-Iad, that’s, what? Never used?” Dean asks.

“Never without the proper reverence.” Meira corrects, and then tips her head. “Until today.” She adds with a pointed look, which earns her the best devil-may-care grin in her dad’s arsenal.

“Guys.” Sam calls, solemn. “Chuck’s dead.”

“Oh, that petty son of a bitch.” Meira grouses, flopping back down onto the tarmac.

“Uh-uh. Come on, up.” Dean instructs, getting to his feet and holding out his hand again. “We’ve still gotta stop this son of a bitch before he brings another plane down.” Meira whines, but takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

“And we’ve got company.” Sam adds, as the airfield security descend on them.

Sam and Dean both look like deer in the headlights of a semi, so Meira takes charge. She orders security to inform the police of the incident, flashes her fake ID about, and then leaves with Sam and Dean on ‘important business’ before the police actually arrive. “Back to Allentown?” Dean checks, and Sam nods, already on the phone.

“I still can’t get in touch with the flight attendant.” Sam tells them several minutes later.

“We can’t let her get on that plane.” Dean insists.

Meira thinks about the fake IDs they’ve been using and has a really, really bad idea. She’s pretty sure Pabbi would approve. “I have an idea?” She offers. Sam turns to look at her, and she grimaces as she holds up her fake ID. “But… we’re going to need to look the part.”

Sam blinks once, and then his eyes widen. “Oh, no.” He says quickly. “No, there’s no way we can pull that off!”

“Why not?” Meira challenges.

“What?” Dean asks, glancing in the rear view mirror. “What’s the plan?”

“What’s TSA going to do if Homeland Security shows up and tells them there’s a terrorist on that plane?” Meira asks rhetorically.

Dean stares out the windshield for a long moment. “Okay. Monkey suits it is.” He says in a tone of resignation.

“And then what?!” Sam demands, a little hysterically, in Meira’s opinion. “We ground the plane, that’s great, and then we’re in the middle of an airport, surrounded by TSA, and we’re going to have to produce a terrorist for them!”

Meira shrugs. “Not necessarily. We just say we got a tip, or a suspicion that there might be, and when there isn’t, well, can’t be too careful in the pursuit of terrorists, right?” She points out. “We won’t even be lying if we tell them we have a suspicion that someone on board is planning to sabotage the flight. It’s true.”

“And how are we going to do an exorcism in the middle of all of this?” Sam demands.

“I’m not sure.” Meira huffs. “If it was just a case of getting the exorcism out, that would be one thing, but we have to make sure the demon sticks around for me to use it. Easiest way would be a devil’s trap, but it’d probably be a bad idea to go around scrawling pagan voodoo on the walls in front of TSA, huh?” She muses.

Dean snorts. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He says briskly. “Once we’ve got the plane grounded and all the passengers and staff isolated for interviewing or whatever, we’re going to insist on talking to everyone separately, and then whatever room they offer us, you two are going to keep everyone busy while I put a devil’s trap… on the ceiling, probably. Somewhere that’s not glaringly obvious, anyway.” He pauses, glancing back to make sure both Sam and Meira are on board. Meira nods enthusiastically, and Sam sighs in surrender. “Okay, so, what’s a devil’s trap look like?”

“Pentacle.” Meira answers easily. “You can make them more complicated, if you need to hold a stronger demon or a specific demon or you need to limit specific things within it, but… basic devil’s trap is just a pentagram in a circle.”

“Right, easy enough.” Dean agrees.

They stop to get suits at the first place they see. Dean looks hilariously uncomfortable, and Meira really wishes there was something she could say to help, but given that it’s a feeling that persists all the way through his life, she figures there’s not much anyone could say to make him feel better. “Should’ve got one with a waistcoat.” She says instead.

“Why the hell would I want extra layers of this bullshit?” Dean demands.

“Waistcoats are sexy as hell.” Meira informs him, smoothing down the front of her own.

Dean pauses and looks back at the shop with pained consideration. “Nope, no time.” Sam informs him. Dean makes a face at him, but doesn’t protest.

Allentown, Pennsylvania – Saturday 3rd December 2005

The plan goes off without a hitch. Meira knows that the most important part of pulling a prank like this is confidence, so she turns hers up to the max, channelling her pabbi and every archangel instinct she has, and TSA goes along with it. In fact, Meira is honestly a little shocked by how quickly everyone responds, until she remembers that, of course, it’s been four, not forty, years since the whole 9/11 thing. The flight gets grounded, TSA agents scurry about searching people and, helpfully, dragging them to and from the room they let the three of them conduct ‘interviews’ from. Meira is honestly having a ridiculous amount of fun, playing the scary Homeland Security agent looking for terrorists.

“You’re having fun.” Sam accuses under his breath, once they’re done with the passengers and about to get started on the staff.

Meira flashes him a wild, reckless grin. “I told you the prank opportunities were going to be glorious.” She murmurs back. Sam gives her an incredulous look, but doesn’t say more because the door is opening. Meira gives it a minute before she turns around, because if this is their demon, she doesn’t want to spook him before he’s sitting right on top of Dean’s devil’s trap, which he drew in magic marker on the bottom of the chair.

“I don’t see why this is-” The co-pilot cuts himself off when Meira and Sam turn around, his eyes flashing black as the demon loses control of itself for a brief moment in its shock. Or rage. Either one. “You again.” It hisses.

“Us again.” Dean says leaning back against the door.

The demon tries to lunge upwards, but the chair, conveniently bolted to the floor, doesn’t move, and the demon can’t leave it. It looks down, then back up again in outrage. “Who are you?” It demands, looking directly at Meira.

She smiles. “Zirdo zizop ol Ge-Iad, od lis ip darb ziri.” She informs it, and watches it recoil in horror with no little satisfaction.

“That’s not Latin.” Sam comments, looking at her in surprise.

“Nope.” Meira agrees cheerfully enough.

“You, though, you I know.” The demon adds, looking at Sam. He and Dean both go very still, staring intently. “I know what happened to your girlfriend, and if you let her do this, you’ll never find out why.” It taunts, a nasty smirk curling the host’s lips.

Sam stiffens. “Wait.” He says, and the demon grins.

“Sam.” Dean warns.

“What do you know about Jessica?” Sam demands.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you everything.” The demon promises.

Sam splashes holy water in its face, and it recoils with a yell, steaming. “Tell me, or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what?” The demon spits, mocking. “What do you think you can do to me that’s worse than that?” It jerks its chin at Meira, who arches one eyebrow. “Let me go, or no deal.”

“Sam, we’re not letting this thing go.” Dean states. “It’s probably lying anyway.”

Sam’s free hand clenches into a fist. After a minute in which he doesn’t move, Meira gently pushes past him to stand in front of the demon. “Bols ma a’aiom, pa’aox il adohi ol Onsamir.” She instructs, and the demon hisses and thrashes, actually cracking the floor where the chair is bolted to it. Meira reaches out and puts a hand on the demon’s shoulder. It stills, tensing, staring at her with wide black eyes. “Niizo i etharzi, ammal, od yinay ma doal.” She says gently. “Oyi gohe Zire.”

Holy light suffuses the vessel, and the essence of the demon pours out of his mouth in the form black smoke even as it’s forced from this plane of existence, vanishing in midair.

Sam turns away and punches the wall. Dean watches him carefully, but when Sam just stands there, breathing hard, he goes to check the slumped co-pilot’s pulse. “He’s alive.” He reports. “So, do we need to carry on this farce, or can we just…?” He jerks his thumb at the door.

Meira takes a moment to hate the demon, because Sam’s mood is going to suck all the fun out of this. “I think we should finish. Let’s not give them a reason to get suspicious straight away, yeah?” She prompts, and Dean reluctantly nods, then shakes the co-pilot awake. He comes awake with a jolt, and immediately panics at the memory of the demon. “Calm down, you’re fine now.” Meira assures him.

“And if you want to stay fine, you’re going to act normal and not talk about this, or the nice TSA agents are going to arrest you for being a terrorist.” Dean adds, which doesn’t exactly help the guy’s fear, but it does redirect it nicely.

It’s a little tedious, going through the same rote questions with the rest of the staff, but there’s few enough left that Meira doesn’t mind. It’s worth it for the opportunity to bitch, in a restrained and professional manner, to the TSA agents about wild goose chases and bad information, and how she’s going to complain to her superiors about their lax fact-checking. The agents are so busy reminding her that ‘better safe than sorry’ and that it’s important work that they don’t even stop to wonder about a whole plane being delayed for what turned out to be nothing. Then the three of them are back in the Impala and driving away clean.

“We should have questioned the demon properly.” Sam says abruptly.

“Dude, Sam, seriously. It probably didn’t know jack shit.” Dean insists. “These things like to play with your mind, you can’t let it.”

“And even if it did know something, torturing information out of demons is hard, Sam. Not to mention ethically dubious given that the host suffers everything you do to the demon, too.” Meira points out, and Sam flinches, but his hard glare doesn’t waver. “Do you really think you can torture someone worse than Hell can, Sam? Someone innocent, just to find out what the demon riding their soul knows?”

Sam whips around to glare at her. “Yes.” He bites out, and then looks away, nausea twisting his expression. “No.” He capitulates. “I don’t-”

“Look, Sam. We will find this thing, alright? We will. And we don’t need to drag innocent people into it to do it. We’re better than that. Better than them.” Dean insists.

Meira smiles, bracing her elbows on the back of the front seats and lacing her fingers together to rest her chin on. “Damn straight.”

Marion, Indiana – Sunday 25th December 2005

It’s stupid, but it never occurred to Meira that Sam and Dean might not do Christmas. When she’d asked, a few days ago, Dean had just shrugged and said sure, they could do a present exchange this year, like that was optional. It’s only just sunk in, lying in the dark in a lonely motel room, that there just isn’t going to be Christmas this year.

No tree, no lights, no elaborate Santa traps, no cake for not-bro Jesus so entirely stuffed with candles that you could kill a wendigo with it, no trip to Scandinavia to have snowball fights in ancient pine forests, no stories of hunting pagan gods through the festivities. She’s alone, bound beneath her skin, with no possible way of finding out who did this to her, never mind what they did, or how to get home. She could pray to Pabbi, but he couldn’t answer, not without revealing himself to the Host, and she won’t do that to him, won’t force him to make that choice.

Midnight comes and goes, and the only way Meira knows is because she’s watching the shitty digital clock on the bedside table. She can’t feel the turn of the earth through the cosmos, can’t feel the ripples of time as billions and billions of humans make choices and change things. All she has is what’s trapped under her skin, and it’s nothing. Nothing compared to what she used to have. A family, and an entire universe to share with them.

Unable to bear it any longer, she rolls out of bed, gets dressed, and heads out. Once there, she goes to the vending machine and buys one of everything that looks like it has a cavity-inducing sugar-content, and carries it all over to the Impala. Then she hops up onto the hood, lies back, and starts in on her stash while watching the stars. “Hey, Granddad.” She says, out loud while opening up a pack of skittles, because who gives a fuck. “Looks like you’re the only family I’ve got for Christmas this year. Well, you and not-bro. How’s the garden, Josh? Sorry about no cake this year. It’d feel like… cheating, somehow, if I tried to get Sam and Dean to do it with me. Like I’m stealing something from their future, you know? Even if I bet Dean would get a kick out of it.”

She takes a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard not to cry. “You know, I always got why you fucked off, Granddad. Why you won’t interfere. I don’t think anyone else in my family really does. Except maybe Jace. He might’ve figured it out, but I bet he’s still stuck on the free will thing. That you won’t interfere because we’ve gotta do it ourselves, we’ve gotta make choices, and we can’t do that if the Father of all Father’s is looming over our shoulder. And that’s part of it, yeah, but it’s more than that, too, isn’t it?”

She has to sit up, because otherwise she’s going to choke on her own tears. Skittles spill across the hood of the Impala, and she doesn’t give a shit. “You won’t interfere because you love us. All of us, even the worst of us.” She says to the sky. “Even the actual devil. Even pond scum and slime mould and every last demon. Even me, even though I’m a blasphemy, an abomination, the devil reborn.” She pauses to gasp a few wet breaths. “I always knew, you know? You weren’t there, because you’re everywhere. But I don’t- Sorry, Granddad, but I don’t feel very loved, right now. I know you don’t like to- to interfere, but… but I could really use a miracle right about now, and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

She waits, but of course nothing happens. The stars don’t move, the world doesn’t shift. There isn’t even a change in the wind. Meira smiles bitterly, blinking tears onto her cheeks, and pulls her knees up to wrap an arm around them and bury her face in them. She gasps for air and lets it out in silent screams, with nothing left to pray for. Somewhere in the motel, a door opens and footsteps crunch across gravel.

“Meira?”

Meira’s head jerks up. Dean is standing there, looking sleep-rumpled and a little bleary, squinting at her in concern. Then his gaze drops to the mess of sweets scattered around her, and he snorts. He shoves them more towards the middle of the hood so that he can hop up to sit beside her, and snags a pack of M&Ms out of the pile for himself. “Can’t sleep?” He asks, and there’s a veneer of carelessness to it, like it’s an idle question and he didn’t just find her bawling her eyes out in the middle of the night, but he’s asking, and he’s there.

Thanks, Granddad. Meira thinks, as she tips over sideways to drop her head onto her dad’s shoulder. “I miss them.” She says quietly. “Never done Christmas without them before. Didn’t realise… how hard it’d hit me ‘til I got here, and suddenly it’s like I’m the last person on earth, it’s so lonely.”

There’s a long silence, but Meira doesn’t mind. She just watches the stars, and retrieves a skittle, and then starts in on the haribo. After a while, Dean shifts, but only enough to get his arm free so that he can put it around her shoulders. Meira shudders with another sob, and is so desperately glad when he doesn’t take that as a sign that he shouldn’t have done it.

“I felt the same, after Sam went to Stanford. Me and Dad were hunting separate, and Sam was gone. I knew I could just drive to Palo Alto, and he’d be there, but… That felt further than the moon, when he’d chosen to be there, instead of here.”

Meira nods a little against his shoulder, to let him know she’s listening, and she understands. “Pabbi used to dress up as Santa.” She says, sniffling and trying to put a little cheer into her voice. Pabbi didn’t so much as dress up as Santa as conjure one out of the ether for them, actually, but close enough. “And he’d have this huge sack of presents, right? But he’d only leave one. The rest, he’d say, we had to get for ourselves.”

Dean bursts out laughing. “He made you steal from Santa?” He asks, delighted.

“No, he made us hunt Santa.” Meira corrects, laughing a little herself. “Traps and tricks. A present would magically fall out of the sack every time we scored a ‘killing blow’.” Dean gasps out a startled curse, laughing too hard for anything else.

Once he’s calmed down a bit, he wipes at his eyes, still chuckling, and steals a few of her haribo. “Man, we never did anything that fun.” Dean bemoans, but not too seriously. “Most of the time Dad wasn’t even there for Christmas, tell you the truth, since monsters don’t stop just ‘cause it’s Christmas. One year Sammy gave me this, though.” He adds, lifting a hand to snag the cord around his neck and lift an amulet out from under his t-shirt. “Best Christmas present ever. Though, if you tell him that, I’ll put itching powder in your underwear.”

Meira catches it in the palm of her hand to draw it closer. It’s dark, but as she peers at it, she recognises it, despite never having seen the actual thing before in her life. Recognises it from her dad’s and qaada’s stories, and from some deeper well of knowledge that’s from the part of her that should have been nothing more than the Angel of Thursday, the remix, and instead ended up a little bit archangel.

And maybe it’s just lingering body-heat, but it feels warm in Meira’s palm. She grins, and lets it fall. “It’s pretty awesome.” She agrees. “And my lips are sealed, I swear.”

Love you too, Granddad.

#Supernatural #time travel #next generation #original character #Supernatural retelling #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #SPN 1x04 #Phantom Traveler #Meira Winchester #Trapped in the Amber #I'm so sad I didn't get to include Amanda in this #Enochian is THE WORST #seriously #on a scale of 0 to Tolkien #Dee is about -4 with how well constructed his conlang is #there's NO consistent grammar #there isn't even consistent spelling #'no i's in the angelic alphabet' Dee says #and promptly spells ever other word with an i #STILL I DID MY BEST #So have some translations #'I am a vessel of the lord and you will obey me' #'be not amongst us and return to your kingdom of hell' #'go in peace demon and do no harm' #'thus sayeth the lord' #Is Meira praying to Chuck when she prays to her granddad? #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #Idk I like Prophet!Chuck and God!Chuck about the same tbh #I'm leaning towards Prophet!Chuck for this

[a-jynx]

Who’s The Cutest?

Summary: Your 2-year-old daughter, Harley, has been having horrible fits lately, after exhausting all your options, you finally turn to Sam for some help. 

Pairing(s): Sam x reader, daughter Harley, mentions of Uncle Dean 

Warnings: None besides, tooth-rotting fluff, and some implied near the end ;) 

Small note: This is based off a cute ass video I saw on IG, and I could NOT get this idea out of my head! I hope you guys enjoy it! 

SPN Taglist:  @laceyn-1201, @waywardnewcomer, @supernatural-teamfreewillpage, @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name, @casiskween, @great-godpotato-akane, @closetspngirl, @specialagentlokitty, @dearsmileyman, @im–an–angel–you–assbutt, @destiel-trenchcoatangel, @msimpala67, @thetallassgirl @invisibledevour,@gabriels-trix, @gabby913, @xiumin-girl99, @stileslove, @fabinaforever11, @samwinchesterssexyface, @billiexmendes, @ilovemymoose, @hobby27, @moonlight-babeh, @moosekateer13, @exo-nova, @mlovesstories, @fabinaforever11, @shatteredabby, @keithseabrook27, @xostephanie

SPN Taglist is open! Just send a message/Ask w/ an 💜 attached & you’ll be added! Or, if you've added and want to be removed, just send an Ask! 

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated & encouraged! 💖

I could feel tears in my eyes as I stared at my daughter, her lungs projecting the loudest screams she could muster while large tears rolled down her reddened cheeks. “Pumpkin, please,” I whispered as her echoing choked sobs turned into hiccups, only to break back into chest rattling and head-throbbing cries. 

“Harley, baby, what’s wrong, please tell momma,” I moved closer, gently grabbing her wrist only to quickly release it as she yanked away and placing it in her lap as she continued to wail. Sam and Dean had been gone for little more than a week, and this was the longest Har hasn’t seen her daddy… “Har, come on, daddy and uncle Dean will be back any day now!” I sighed, scrubbing at my face as I grumbled small curses to Sam for making her a daddy’s girl. 

“Want dada! Want dada!” Har began to chant between cries, I slumped against the sofa, one of my hands resting on her leg as she suddenly went quiet, soft hiccups breaking through her sniffling. Craning my neck, I looked up at her with softening eyes, my short nails dragging across her calf in a soothing manner. She turned her head, flashing me those big doe eyes that resembled those of her father’s -- that gorgeous sunflower pattern hidden behind a layer of tears. “Baby, I promise, daddy’s going to be home so soon that you’ll forget all about these fits,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb down her leg as she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she continued to sniffle, shaking her head. 

“Oh, mighty God, smite me now!” I rolled my head onto the couch cushion, swallowing thickly as I cracked open one of my eyes, seeing Harley sitting with her little lips pursed into a pout while her little cheeks glowed red; I couldn’t fight back a small chuckle. 

She turned her head towards me, furrowing her small brows before crawling towards me, tilting her head like she’s seen her uncle Cas do more times than I could count. “What’s funny?” 

“You are, baby girl,” I smirked as she gasped, clambering to take the mountain climb down off of the couch as I reached over, placing a hand on her bottom to help her as her little feet hit the carpet. 

“I’s not funny!” She stomped as I smirked, cocking a brow and turning my body towards her, resting my elbow on the couch whilst resting my cheek against my palm. “I say you are,” she gently huffed, shaking her braids around with a pout. 

“Nuh-huh!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“No, momma!” She growled, making me chuckle again when the iron door above us creaked open, revealing two overly worked hunters trudging in. My lips tore into a smile as I stood, as Harley stood in front of me, staring up as she watched her uncle and father descend down the stairwell. 

“Momma!” She snapped her head towards me as I nodded, smiling as she broke into a little run towards her father. I walked behind her, leaning against the back of the couch as they stopped, Sam’s tired face quickly breaking into the largest grin, crouching down as Harley slammed into his chest. 

“Dada!” She squealed as he stood, holding her close against his chest as he peppered light kisses all over her rosy face. Her small squeals welcomed after the hours of crying she had just done. Dean grinned at the sight, stealing a kiss on the cheek from his niece as he moved away, allowing Sam to take the time with his daughter as she began to bombard him with questions about his “trip”. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you feelin’ alright? Lookin’ a little more beat than us.” Dean half-grinned as I scoffed, moving close and hugging him tightly as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “‘M fine… Harley, however,” I sighed as he nodded, frowning as I pulled away, rubbing at my eyes with my palms. I felt a squeeze from behind, turning my head, I caught Sam’s lips as they crashed into me, making me grin as he slowly pulled away yet he kept his forehead pressed to mine. 

“Hi,” he whispered as Dean slowly left, taking the duffel bags with him as I grinned, looking up through my eyelashes. 

“Hey,” I glanced towards our daughter, smirking as I noticed the slight pout tugging on her lips. “I don’t think someone likes momma getting all the attention.” Sam frowned before looking at Harley, a small smile on his lips as he used his free hand to tickle her stomach, causing her to squeal and grab at his hands. 

“What’s the matter with you, Har?” 

“Momma mean,” she pouted more, puckering her lips as I rolled my lips together, fighting back a smile as Sam shot me a look as I shrugged gently. “Ooh, is she now? Why was momma being mean?” 

“She says I funny!” She waved her arms around as Sam adjusted her, his lips still in a large smile as I moved towards the couch settling on it as he moved towards me, settling onto the couch as Har crossed her arms. 

“But, Har, you are!” 

“That’s mean,” she huffed as Sam frowned, glancing at me as I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing at them as his frowned deepened. I felt the couch shift, making me open my eyes to see Har settled on his lap. 

“Har, I want you to try something with me, okay?” Sam asked, sending her a gentle smile as she squinted her eyes, pursing her lips as she slowly nodded. “Good, alright, so after everything I say, I want you to say ‘me’ in the loudest voice you can!” Sam threw one arm over the edge of the couch, exaggerating his words as she giggled, nodding. 

“Alright, who’s the best helper?” 

“Me!” 

“Good! Okay, okay, who’s the funniest?” 

“Me!” 

“Awesome, Har! Who’s the most creative?” 

“Me!” Harley’s grin split across her face, almost reaching her ears as Sam nodded, himself grinning larger than the sun. I cozied up on the couch as I watched, seeing my baby girl finally laughing and smiling made all those days and hours of her crying or missing her daddy worth it. 

“Alright, Har, this last one is a big one, you ready?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Alright, out of all of the girls on this planet Earth, and there have been billions, who’s the cutest?” 

“Me! Me, me, me! I’m cutest!” Harley screeched as she jumped up, her little arms and legs kicking around as Sam held her up, allowing her to wiggle in mid-air as I watched in glee. I felt as if I were floating on cloud nine… 

“That’s right! You’re the cutest, my little Harley!” Sam grinned, tossing her up as she screamed, laughter arising from her mouth as I sighed, just allowing them to soak in their time together. I glanced up to see Dean leaning against the doorway, my lips tugging into a grin as I gently elbowed Sam, who snapped his head towards me as I nodded towards his older brother. “Har, baby girl, I think Uncle Dean needs some loving too.” I whisper-shouted as Harley snapped her head around, her braids flying as she wiggled in her father’s hands, him quickly setting her down as she took off towards her uncle, who scooped her up and tickled her sides, another squeak echoing around the bunker as Dean nodded to me, taking Harley back to his “man cave” which was made into her playroom. 

Groaning, I sunk further into the couch as I felt an arm wrap around me, making me peel open one of my eyes as I glanced up to see Sam smirking down at me. I moved closer, snuggling into his side as he leaned down, pressing his lips to my head as I grinned. 

“I’ve missed you so much, babe… I just- I’m sorry we were gone for so long.” Sam sighed, his voice low as I hummed, playing with his flannel as I looked up, feeling sleep slowly take over as I moved closer into my man’s arms. 

“It’s fine, Sammy… I’m just happy you and Dean are back safely, especially because that little girl needed her daddy.” I grinned as Sam scoffed, his arm squeezing me closer as a content sigh left my lips. 

“What about you…?” His voice grew low as I craned my neck, biting back the smirk as I moved to sit up some. I tugged on the ears of his flannel, making him sit up and away from the back of the sofa, his lips pulled into a smirk as I gently kissed at his jawline before moving up, pressing my lips against his warm, soft yet dry lips. Moving in sync as his hand came to rest on my hip, making me grin into the kiss, him moving and deepening it. 

“I definitely needed my Sammy back,” I murmured, leaning down and pressing a few feather-like kisses to his throat as he tilted his head, allowing me access while his hand moved up and down my side, the other resting on my ass. “Those two weeks were chaos without you, for me and for Harley,” I whispered against his Adam’s apple, causing it to bob as he gently squeezed, making me sit up. 

“Well, have no fear, your knight in flannel is here,” he grinned as I rolled my eyes, pressing my chest against his and slowly reaching up, wrapping the collar of his flannel around my hands as I tugged him forward, our noses pressed together as I smirked. 

“Thank the highest of heavens, I don’t believe I could’ve lasted another week,” I grinned as he pressed forward, his hips pistoned up as I broke our kiss to give him a breathy moan. He smirked, leaning forward and sloppily leaving open mouth kisses on my throat, sucking and biting at my special spot. 

Suddenly, Sam stood making me squeal as he pressed me tighter against him before quickly moving towards our bedroom, I couldn’t hold back the giggles as he quickly threw open our door, and lightly kicked it behind him. My back met the cushion of our bed with a bounce, I grinned up at my husband. 

“Who’s the cutest wife in the world?” Sam leaned down, nibbling at my jaw and throat as I sighed, allowing my eyes to flutter shut. 

“Me.”

---

Well, it’s not Part 11, but I hope it’s good! 

Hope you guys enjoyed this! 

---

#Sam x reader #Sam Winchester #Daddy!Sam #Dad!Sam #Uncle!Dean #Dean x reader #Sam x daughter #Sam Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester #Sam fluff #Sam smut #spn x reader #reader insert #spn related #spn fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural series #Supernatural boys #supernatural reference #supernatural #tags open #spn fluff #spn crack #spn smut

[courtorderedcake]

Roses : A CS retelling of ‘Tam Lin’

Hi, everyone! Thanks to @kmomof4​ and the extremely talented @eastwesthomeisbest​ for their patience on this. As usual, thanks to @ultraluckycatnd​ who I would be lost without, the woman is a monster editing machine, and super beta. I live for my updates from her.  Without further ado, here is my laaaaaaaaaaaate contribution to @cssns​. You get TWO chapters for the price of one! WHOA!

Read on Ao3 right here, darlings! Chapter 1/4 Chapter 2/4

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

If there was one trope in fairytales that Emma hated, it was the lonely orphan who found parents and lived happily ever after in a beautiful castle. Her first problem with it was that while she hadn’t met any royalty, she doubted that most of them lost track of their children that often. Or, if they were separated, that a prince or princess would be placed in a crowded Boston orphanage. Her second problem was that there were only so many countries in the world, and even less with a missing monarch. Even diplomats and billionaires were few and far between in that category. 

So, on a rainy April afternoon when she returned to her apartment, she did not expect to see a fresh faced courier waiting for her. Although she wasn’t old by any means at 28, the boy looked about 12 with his baby face as he asked her to sign for the letter. She gave a scribble, handed him a wadded bunch of bills from her bag, and stumbled inside to peel off her rain slicker. Throwing aside the envelope of what was probably more of her husband's accounts that she was now responsible for, Emma opted for a nap before work instead. It was until she landed a successful skip that night that she felt ready to tackle another batch of what remained from Neal's legacy. 

Kicking off her heels, which were most likely ruined from the rain, she collapsed on her couch. With a wiggle, the skin tight red number was off and she basked in the freedom of being nude as she searched her floor for a clean t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. Looking at the letter, she picked it up and placed it between her teeth, paused to put her hair in what she hoped would resemble a ponytail, and pulled to rip it open. Letting the envelope fall to the floor, she grabbed her thick rimmed glasses to read the small script. 

Her roommate, Mary Margaret, came out of her room. “Emma? It’s 4 am, did you just get back?”

“Mmmmyar.” Emma replied, scanning the text. Her late husband's family crest and name, long discarded after his death, was printed on top of the document. She shuddered at the golden medallions adorning a darkened shield, and the scaled, lizard like, dragon that curling around it. 

“Well… OK, but do you want some coffee? David's here and we're getting up early to -”

“Holy. Fucking. Grilled cheese and onion rings.” Emma breathed heavily, staring wide eyed in shock at the papers in front of her. 

“What are you swearing on such sacred foods for?” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow in amused concern.

“I've just inherited an estate valued at £800,000.” Emma flicked her eyes up, mouth a thin line. “Neal's family's fortune, home and grounds apparently. Things I never even knew about.”

“Well.” Mary Margaret sipped her coffee, looking completely nonplussed even if Emma knew on the insides she was bursting - it was how she had earned her nickname Snow Queen after all. “That would do it.”

 -·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

 The estate reading took place in Ireland through a crackling speaker box, Emma's eyes racing around the office the entire time. It was stunning, as were what seemed like all the buildings during her trip to gain the deed to her home. This office in particular was what Emma imagined when reading Peter Pan; a gentleman's study and den, complete with whiskey decanter and cigar box to her left as if she had gone back in time. The tall shelves were lined in books with gold leaf letters and rich leather bindings, the panels of dark wood mixed with verdant jade paint and damask almost making up for the unsettling stuffed deer heads.

Cringing, Emma turned back to the box. The voice on the other line was thickly accented with a rolling brogue which Graham assured her in his own was common, and had obviously been in a bad mood long enough for it to be a defining quality.

“Ye don't be wanting Carterhaugh, lass. T’place is cursed, hallow in the way tat echoes, not t’way of blessings.”

Her lawyer smirked, teeth white and extremely straight. Emma had liked Graham Grimm since she had met him, and this was insight into his character. Taste in wall decorations aside, he respected her agency enough to not let this man continue to try to stop the change in ownership. In her experience, lawyers were far too careless and rude. This man was funny, even when she teased him about his name and he had sighed, an eye roll so loud she could hear it through their original phone call. 

(Yes, my name is Graham Grimm. Yes, they do sound alike. No, I am not involved with fairytales, unless you consider me a fairy Godmother of estate and divorce settlements. No, I am usually very happy. No, I cannot change into a black shaggy dog, can you please just tell me what the approximate appraisal value is?) 

“My client will determine its worth.” His tone was calm and well practiced, even through his own clear lilt, but Emma could hear the edge there just under the surface. He had the heart of a forest hunter; not a threat until prey was too well ensnared in a carefully laid trap. This man on the phone, a Mr. Seáìnns’, had been fighting tooth and nail to keep her from her inheritance, throwing obstacle after obstacle in her way for months now. 

At first it was as simple as he refused to understand that Emma wanted to know the family that had abandoned her husband, wanted to feel the last connections she had with him or any family she could, but it quickly devolved into more. Emma was subject to constant harassment by calls and letters, envelopes filled with shredded paper or scribbled notes she could not read, all from this crazy older man in the village that Carterhaugh laid in. This didn't do much more than annoy her, as well as the post office, customs, and the garbage disposal crew. It escalated to him crossing a line when he tried to prove she was not the proper heir, insinuating Neal was a bastard, and further when he tried to declare the estate a historical landmark. 

Emma hadn't even seen the damn mansion or castle or whatever an estate was considered. It seemed to vary between every property she had compared what little information she had, the repeated ridiculous notion of having her own ballroom driving her and David giddy with excitement. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but David pulling her away to dance made a smile crack across her face. They'd discovered over beers that a ballroom didn't make a home a palace, a question neither David, her, or Mary Margaret had ever thought they'd be asking. 

The sound of sputtering rage brought her back to the present. 

“You bloody ridiculous ‘n hateful creatures! I know what you are doing, what you're playing at. You can try to find me, but I know your games, and I know this woman is either demon or worse! She'd kill ye before even looking, smile on ‘er face. Calling her client… Yer client doesn't know her ken folk have cursed me, an m’wife, and took -” The line crackled, an electronic whining mixed with metallic pops. A dial tone replaced the man's voice and Graham’s smile faded. 

“Well. It seems like your new residence has eccentric neighbors, doesn't it?” Graham laughed, and Emma felt his hand slip into her own. She flinched, pulling away from him and he gave her a sad smile. “Sorry, I -”

“It's alright. I… I'm just not looking for anyone.” Rubbing her palms together to do something with her hands, she pushed away the feeling of wrong that came over her at someone's touch. “I don't think I'll be ready for some time.”

Graham nodded, gathering papers together from his desk. He waited a few long, drawn out, silent minutes before asking, “How long has it been since Mr. Gold's -”

Emma's tone was short, frustration defined in every syllable. “It could have happened yesterday, but it was 2 years ago. We got married fast, it was a blur. It's a difficult topic for me.”

“I'm so sorry I -”

“Can we please see the estate?” Pinching her brow as a migraine set in, Emma heard Graham clear his throat and stand. 

“Absolutely. It's a few hours from here, if you'd like to get lunch and car pool -”

“I'll take my car. Lead the way.”

 -·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

 Driving through the small town of Carterhold, Emma could see why locals may be wary of change. The town was a sleepy and picturesque village, stone homes with thatched or moss covered rooftops that stood sparsely around a small town center. From there, through the foggy clouds that swirled through a dense forest, trees climbed up the slope of a massive hill, emerald fingers that reached for the plains leading up to Carterhaugh’s imposing presence, and its perch on the cliffs over the sea. The wind shifted, and it was gone, swallowed again by mist, but Graham was already making the slow ascent up a winding road. 

Emma heard a thud, jerking the steering wheel as someone barreled into her bug, broad shoulders and crazed eyes under matted hair barely visible through her wet windows. 

“What the -”

The words had barely left her mouth when an unmistakable voice was yelling at her, rambling incoherently as he pounded on her door. 

“Ye kinnit go to Carterhaugh! Ye kinnit have it ye bloody witch or fairy demoness! ‘Tis on Hallowed and protected ground, guarded, an ye haven't a clue what I will do to protect it from you, ye - ” The face of Mr. Seáìnns was lit by lightning, eyes blazing bright blue, thunder from his fists against the passenger door and the sky. Emma felt panic in her chest, heavy and leaden.

Slamming her foot on the accelerator, Emma let the bug lurch into its unused highest speeds as she flew up the road to Carterhaugh. 

The driveway was curved elegantly behind an imposing metal and stone gate, mossy spheres capping the tall towering structure. The manor itself, even in its disuse, was stunning. A fountain stood before large wooden doors, framed by windows that traveled in neat rows up walls choked in ivy. Two wings on either side curved off from there, both facing the sea and woods, a domed roof on one side for a solarium, another for a ballroom. It was both imposing and impossibly inviting, a mystery that was decayed beyond unraveling. 

And it was hers. 

Graham helped her inside, the lights crackling in refusal to turn on in the storm as they stood in the atrium, dripping on the stone parquet. 

“It's fine, I have a lighter,” Emma shrugged, pulling it out of her jacket pocket. “I always carry one. As a kid I was afraid of being alone in the dark. I somehow always seemed to end up there, either hiding or being forced somewhere, so it helped to make my own magic light to fight away shadows. Probably silly…”

“Not silly at all. It's a common fear based on instinct. Predators lurk in the dark, so your brain says that light is safe,” Graham said simply. “Smart to have it on you to start a fire too, or warm up in the wilderness.”

Emma's lips tightened as he continued on about the practicality of the lighter. She turned, expecting him to get the hint, but he followed her while continuing on about the merits of different wood to burn or oils to keep to sustain a good burn. Emma found herself wishing for a nice birch branch just to whack him with. As her annoyance peaked, the lights flickered on. 

“Well. No candles I guess, but let's get you a fire started in the hearth, and then I'll be on my way.” Graham paused, and looked down, shuffling his shiny leather shoes. “Unless… I can stay if you like, until you get used to the place or have someone to stay with you, you know, because it's a big older house and -”

“I think I'll manage.” The words crept out more icily than she wanted, but he nodded with a sheepish wave of his hand. 

“That's fine. Just call if you do find you need something. I'll get someone out here, and then be out myself in an hour or so. I don't want to see you get swallowed up by a house this big.” He smiled and Emma returned it genuinely, touched by his offer. If she didn't know how men dangled kindness in the face of women like her to get something in return, she would have taken him seriously. But Neal… Neal had ruined her. 

The fire in the hearth was easy enough to start, even without special wood. Taking off her boots and coat, she gazed into the flame and planned out her course of action. Her sparse belongings were in the bug, and furniture would be delivered as soon as she took stock of what remained and measured for new pieces. Sighing and rubbing her temples, Emma rolled out her sleeping bag. She was asleep as soon as her eyes closed. 

 -·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

 In the morning, light flitting through the windows and the chill of the fire's death woke her up far earlier than her usual time. Wandering out to the bug, she dragged her luggage inside, pulling on extra socks and layering her sweaters. The effect was comical, but warm. Her stomach growled, but the kitchen was a quick - and musty - find. Sticking to pop tarts instead of whatever the swamp like gloop in the sink was, Emma set to work making a written game plan. 

Calling contractors would wait until reasonable hours, but she mapped out who she would need while taking stock of furniture, books, tapestries, busts, and paintings. To her surprise, much of the home was in decent condition, and she easily found a bedroom suite that overlooked the sea cliffs from a secure balcony, a fireplace with stone carved boats in its inlay, an almost modern bathroom, and to her absolute delight, had a storybook fairytale four poster bed. The linens were almost new, the pillows fluffy , and it smelled of sea salt, leather, spice, and rum. If she didn't know how alone she was, the room would seem almost home to someone. 

As normal waking hours approached, Emma went outside to survey the gardens and landscape. Most of the plants were dead around the house itself, but the gardens and connected solarium were wild and overrun with blooms. Down the hill, wildflowers in rainbow spectrum danced in the wind, their colors like an eruption of the Crayola crayons Emma had to share in school. 

Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and a dark shape made its way around to the front of the manor. Emma grabbed a rusted shovel from a garden bed, and crept towards where the intruder had gone. She found the man looking curiously at her bug. He was tall, dark hair blowing in the wind, scratching his neck in confusion. In his hand was a hook. 

“Don't touch my car and I won't have to hurt you, buddy!” Emma yelled, wielding the shovel in her hands like a baseball bat. The man turned, surprised. 

Blue. The first thing that Emma noticed was how blue his eyes were; how clear and beautiful the blue she saw in those eyes reflected the color of the sky above. The eyes that currently were gazing at her in confusion. 

“Who are you?” he asked, raising his hands above his shoulders, as if she were police. In his left hand was not a hook, but a three pronged garden trowel. Some impression she made, thinking about urban legends this late in life. 

“Better question, Alex Trebek, is who the hell are you?” Emma snarled. 

<

“I’m the, er, gardener, madam.” He waved the garden trowel in the direction of a nearby wheelbarrow. There was something off in the way he spoke, the accent strange to her. “Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Gardener?” Emma would had refused staff had she known they existed, and had made sure that she was for the most part alone. He shouldn't be here, especially not with her. Anger boiled over to cover her fear. “You’ve done a great job of things.” Gesturing at the dead plant life around the dilapidated manor, she watched his eyes narrow. “You’re truly magic with landscaping.” This comment brought a dark smile to his face that left her feeling like he was in on the punch line of a joke she hadn’t heard. 

“Well, if you’d contact the ruddy owner and let him know to add to the budget for gardening...” The English accent was evident in his voice now, the clear definition between Irish and it what had been off to her ears as she watched his cheeks reddening. Emma gave him a wolfish grin.

“I think that can be arranged.” She gave him a curt nod, before pointing to herself, which he appraised with lips curled back. “Emma Swan. Official new ‘ruddy owner’ of Carterhaugh.” 

 -·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

 The Gold family estate had beautiful gardens. At one time they even had cultivated a rare buttercup and rose hybrid, so they had been very particular on who tended their gardens. A quick call to Graham that took several minutes of cell phone aligning to make confirmed that Killian Jones actually was listed on a small ledger, his family name written on yellowing paper, noted as “horticultural help”.

“I don't know how I missed this, it's like it just appeared here Miss Swan,” Graham had groaned, yawning into his end of the line. Static cracked through her cell phone speakers as fog rolled over the driveway. “But yes, he is explicitly listed as coming with the property.”

“Great. And you're sure I can't fire him without penalty?” 

“No, I'm sorry. This is written in a ridiculously old way, as if they're counting him as property. He can resign, but even then -” There were several moments of garbled reply that was incomprehensible. Emma huffed, kicking rocks and pacing until she caught a better signal, and Graham's voice snapped back on the line. “-Look into it more as I do some digging. You're out of luck. Do you want me to come stay? I'm happy to while you wait for another friend -”

“No, no, it’s fine. He’s not creepy, he just seems…” Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she struggled for words. “He seems, lonely. Just sort of desperate and excited for company, which I thought I could avoid by being out here. I just wanted to be alone, or at the very least I guess with someone I didn't worry about… Well. I just don't do yokels or men, and he seems a pinch of both.”

Dead air hung on the other line, followed by a faint, eerie whispering. 

“Graham?”

The sound of a low laugh, as quiet as blown leaves over cold pavement sounded over the line, and Emma dropped her phone with a start. 

“Are you alright?” came the sudden voice from behind her, and she whirled on her heel. 

"I'd be fine if you made noise when you walked, buddy, and if I could get some damn reception out here." Emma huffed, and the grounds keeper seemed to decide against saying anything, quickly snapping his mouth shut. "Do you know a better place to get service?" 

In the fog and chill breeze of the gravel drive, Emma suddenly felt a deep sense of foreboding and unease. The shadow of Carterhaugh loomed, as if reaching for her, Killian already swallowed by the scrawled shape in the morning sun. He seemed uneasy as well, even unnerved. Emma watched as his jaw muscles worked as if he quite literally chewed on her words before speaking. 

"I could set up a tea service, if you'd like, but I'm afraid you'll find neither a service or reception out here. Nothing but chill." He made a gesture for her to follow him, which she did with a wry smile. He thought he had a sense of humor. Wonderful. 

As he prepared tea from a silver set in one of the many kitchen cabinets, they made attempts at conversation. Killian was also a caretaker for the property, and he asked her how she came about ownership as they sat at the large oak dining table together. The furniture was remarkably well preserved in the majority of the main rooms, much to her delight.

The sunshine through moth eaten curtains had dust motes swirling in the air as her face fell, and she swallowed the bile that rose before she uttered her tight words. 

“My husband passed away.” Killian had winced at that. 

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he was -”

“I don't… I don't discuss Neal.” She closed her eyes tightly, taking deep breaths, feeling her skin flame. Even after what felt like an eternity, Neal's shadow still darkened her day. She sipped her tea, trying to cool herself, even with the scalding liquid. 

He hadn't asked any more on the subject, only asking about changes to what affected his work. Emma found it comforting; if he was to stay, at least he would leave well enough alone. 

“I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind. I have a master suite facing the sea on the third level of the east wing, and I know there'll be nothing in town for rent,” he stated. Emma chewed her lip in thought, mapping out his room in relation to her own. The answer struck her, and she groaned with a scrunched face of annoyance. 

“Do you get up early? Probably don't keep a fire lit?” she grumbled, and he looked at her with eyes narrowed. 

“Yes, I'm up as early as possible, and I find I enjoy the chilled sea air. Why?”

“And I bet you have a dove gray comforter.” Emma sighed, head falling into her palm with a wry laugh. “Because of course, just of course -”

“I do, aye -” He blinked and his brows shot up. “Were you..? Did you sleep in my room?” 

“Well, no, but I didn't know it was -”

“I mean, it's fine. I'll choose another, I guess -”

“No. No need to be ridiculous. I… You probably know where the next best preserved bed is?” she asked, and his eyes lit up. 

“Well yes, but you'd be in the same wing, is that alright?”

Emma hesitated, and then nodded. “With you up so early I doubt we'd see much of each other. And I'll be busy inside as you work outside.”

He made a non-committal noise, and stood with a stretch. Emma inhaled sharply; he was well toned and very good looking, but the thought of anyone’s hands on her after Neal had… 

Her stomach churned. 

“Follow me, then,” he said, offering his hand. Emma could feel her lungs tightening. Her expression must have frozen on her face too, because his eyes widened and he lowered his hand. “Or we could do this later, if you -”

Emma stood, and shook her head. “Just got a bit dizzy. Lead the way.”

They made no conversation as he led her up the staircase to the third level, the other suite he mentioned on the far end of the hall whereas his was at the beginning. The large door was imposing but carved with floral inlay, the stain perfectly applied to add to its richness. Both sides were flanked by stained glass in the same twisted vine and flower designs. 

“I almost chose this room. It was for the lady of this house at one time, and should serve you better than me.” Killian produced a key with the same designs swirled around the brass, unlocking it to reveal a sun warmed sitting area the color of blushing peonies. An ornate vanity sat in one corner, while a matching bureau and canopy bed sat before a balcony, from which the sea and his own room visible. Stained glass curved around the doors to what she assumed were the closet and bathroom, and more carved wood and glass made up a truly spectacular fireplace. If Killian’s room was big, this room was truly gigantic. 

Emma was at a loss, the furniture was all beautifully intact except for the bed’s canopy curtains and linens. Beyond that, the fabrics and rugs showed no large evidence of wear, the patterns still bright and soft underfoot. She poked her head in the closet and found it relatively large, possibly a maid's room or changing salon at one time, then turned the handle of the bathroom while Killian watched from the entrance. 

The huge claw foot soaking tub and gold veined marble under her feet could not prepare her for the large stained glass framed window that captured the sea, as if she was sailing away in the tub itself. A double sink, open shower, and large mirror completed the space in luxury. It was exquisite, and left Emma aching for a bubble bath. 

“I'll move your things, if you -”

“No,” she whispered, still in awe, before clearing her throat. “No, that's alright. I'll move everything. I… I don't like people touching my things.”

“At least allow me to give you my spare set of bedding, love, and -”

“I am not your love, alright?” she snapped, and his eyes widened. She took in a steadying breath, chewing her lip to rid herself of the sourness she wanted to throw at him. He seemed mollified, scratching behind his ear. 

“I'm sorry, I -”

“No. I'm sorry. It's been… I have… I don't do people very well.”

“Well, I'll get you the linens and be out of your way, then.” There was resignation in his tone, but Emma could only hug herself as she let her armor build back up around her. 

“Perfect. Thank you.” Her tone was clipped, but she didn't expect the annoyed response, huffed under his breath as he pulled blankets and pillows from a hall closet. 

“As you wish, Princess.”

Emma's tone was colder than ice, her words spoken in frigid staccato. “Excuse me? I must have misheard you.”

“I wasn't expecting the new owner to be all business, is what I said. These corridors are old. If you aren’t careful, these halls will try to trick you. You’ll get used to them, though.” Killian deposited the mountain of linen on her bed, and spread out the fitted sheet. 

“I don't think halls,” she snatched the pillows from the bed, pulling the sheet roughly on the other side, “are capable of trickery. Only people. People are difficult, they need to be watched. You have to keep your eyes on them or they'll do who knows what.” Pulling roughly on the sheet again, she glared with narrowing eyes at Killian, his own eyes glowering under dark lashes. “Especially people who say things under their breath like a petulant, scorned, self absorbed, preening -”

“Well, I would despair if ‘People’ took their eyes off of me. Some might say this attention is in the beholder’s benefit, and I'd say so as well. I'm quite dashing, or so I've heard.” Gripping the comforter tightly, he laid it out and smoothed it down while returning her glare. “So, I suppose we are well matched, since you are an icy, insufferable, stubborn, spoiled -” Reaching for a pillow, his hand grazed her own, and Emma yelped in surprise. 

Her breathing quickened as she stared at her skin, Killian’s insults and attempted arguments drowned out by an increasing electrical whine mixed with her heartbeat thumping. Stumbling away into the bathroom, she turned on the tap, desperately washing her skin where they had touched in the rust colored water, scouring the place their skin had met with her nails instead of the absent soap. 

Killian’s hand found her shoulder and Emma flew at him, pushing him away as she screamed profanities. He stumbled backwards into the tub, watching in fear at her transformation, her rubbed raw hand bleeding as she renewed her focus on the new area he'd touched. Without soap it was pointless, hot water her only real advantage, pouring the scalding water onto her skin. She mumbled to herself, trying to focus against the onset panic.

Emma's thoughts were burning away elsewhere, the fires she could not escape when Neal had locked her away; smoke, embers and ash acrid in both the air and her lungs. 

It took what felt like hours for her to come back to herself, her fingernails bloody and skin blistered from the heat. The gentle chime of the clock in the room indicated it had only been ten minutes to her relief. It was the worst attack she had in ages, the first time in so long she hadn't been able to control herself. The first time in so, so, long that she had fallen back into the flame of those memories, of that pain. 

A soft voice whispered gently to her, taking her off guard, and she looked up to see Killian slowly extricating himself from the bathtub. He raised his hands in supplication, kneeling several feet away from her. She choked out a strangled noise and he shook his head. 

“It's alright, it's OK, lo - er…” He gave a sheepish look, thinking for a moment. He smiled in a sad sort of way after a moment, before continuing, “It's alright. Just tell me how I can help. Maybe a glass of water?” Emma nodded slowly. “Alright, I'll fetch you a bottle.”

At his retreat, Emma let her herself take stock of what had happened, falling back into her times under clinical observation. Mary Margaret had been a stone faced angel, taking in her pain and working a life around it, going as far as releasing care notes when she felt Emma was ready. She had met David, Emma's adoptive brother that way, resulting in a very happy marriage.

“Patient refuses to accept human contact, even using high concentration chemical cleaning agents on skin.”

“Patient has no history of obsessive or compulsory behavior, but violence and destruction of property are noted in their state welfare file.”

“Attempts at getting patient to explain what happened on the night of the incident to victims causes patient to become increasingly distressed when her husband is mentioned. Questions regarding other victims or the causes of death are met with silence. Patient claims no memory of her actions.”

“Patient indicates possibility of further witnesses or victims at scene - hallucinations caused by trauma or psychosis?”

“Repeated attempts at questioning or explaining patient's obsessive actions or fear of touch are met with hostility, while questioning in regards to matrimonial life is indicative of abuse. Patient advocate (M. M.) recommends home based care, with patient's brother.”

“Patient continues to allow touch in sparing amounts among family, friends, and in situations where they are prepared. Therapy with preferred Doctor is continuing as part of a deferred sentence. Patient advocate (M. M.) states that large improvement has been made outside of care facilities. Recommending end of observational treatment.”

Killian placed the water next to her, as the feeling of oxygen in her lungs weighed her down. 

“Thanks.” Emma croaked, voice raspy. Killian sat down in front of her, legs crossed as he watched her drink with shaking hands. 

Scratching behind his ear, he looked sideways across the floor, picking at a chipped piece of tile. “It was nothing. I'm sorry that -”

“Don't be. I just have a thing about touch.” Emma stood briskly, ice back in her unsteady tone at glacial levels. “You couldn't have known, and since you are going to be scarcely around it won't be an issue, as we discussed earlier.”

Killian snorted, and stood as well, rocking on his heels. “I was going to say that I'm sorry it took so long, and I brought you some… other items.” His face changed, haughty to solemn, watching her hands tremble as she shoved them in her pockets. “You're right, we won't be seeing each other often. If you need help with something, or finding your way around the estate, leave me a note under my door. If I need garden supplies, I'll leave a note in the kitchen.” 

He turned, walking towards the bedroom door. After a moment Emma followed tentatively, walking towards the door behind him in silence. She shot a glance at the bed, noticing the bandages, a tube of some ointment, a key ring, and a few pink roses. She stopped in the small salon, watching Killian open her door and give her a strained smile. 

“I'm sorry for touching you, as well.” Emma made a sound of protest, ready to tell him again that he was blameless, but he persisted. “While I couldn't have known, my presence here has never been… convenient. I had hoped that had changed with the new owner. Good day, Miss Swan.”

“Wait -” He looked as surprised as she felt, the words racing past her lips, blurted at the last second. “What is your cell phone number? It'd be easier to get a hold of you that way, if I should need you. Not to say that I will…” Killian stared at her in abrupt confusion, his brows knitting. 

“I don't have a phone. The manor has one, should you need to use it.” There was something off in his tone, but her own cell phone had fought every attempt at service on the property, so this shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. The manor phone, she could work with that. 

“What's the number?” Emma pulled her phone from her pocket, the screen lighting up. Killian looked amazed in her peripheral, which didn't surprise her. The town was practically medieval, and this phone was the newest of its brand. Emma scarcely knew how to use it. 

“You have to set it up later, if you want communication by wire. Your device there -”

“It's an Android, I let the kid at the store set it up for me. If you want me to get you one, I can the next time I go to the city. They have a walkie talkie app that I think might work with a wifi connection once I have that set up.” Killian nodded, looking at her blankly. “Have you ever had Wi-Fi in the house before?”

Killian hesitated, his jaw ticking as he bit into his lip in thought. “I wouldn't know, love. I'm afraid that we’re a bit behind the rest of the world here, I don't believe we know what year it is most of the time.”

Emma laughed lightly, and relaxed a little bit more. “Most of us are trying to forget that it's 2019, so I suppose that's fair. I just enjoy Netflix and the occasional game of Words with Friends too much to go without internet.” Killian looked down at his feet, his face unreadable for a moment, fists balled. When he looked back at her and relaxed, Emma caught a glimpse of pure sadness, a mirror of her own pain, before it was carefully pushed behind walls of his own. 

Smiling softly, Killian laughed. “I have no idea what a Netflix is, but you are the Mistress of the estate. I encourage you to do as you wish. If you would like me to have a…” He hesitated again, as if searching for something. “A, er, shell phone, I will gladly oblige if you provide it and give me instruction.”

Emma snorted, and found herself genuinely laughing as Killian’s cheeks turned red. “You're actually funny. Alright. I'll try to get you a ‘shell phone’, old man.” Killian’s eyes darkened, his smile turning almost sour. “Between the two of us, we'll bring some life back into this place.”

He nodded, that same pensive look on his face, almost hidden by his smile. “Yes. Well, taming the estate is not going to be an easy task. I'll help you where I can, should you need me. Good day.” He closed the door slowly, and Emma listened as his footfalls fell away. 

Climbing into her bed, the mattress surprisingly plush under her, she bandaged her hand slowly. The roses he'd laid next to the first aid were beautiful, their strong aromatic scent filling the air already. Picking up one of the roses delicately, she sniffed, the full scent absolutely breathtaking. The throbbing of her skin faded, and all at once Emma felt herself relax. She felt invigorated, but her muscles were loose, and she happily moved her things into her room, making sure to place the roses in a porcelain vase. 

The rest of the day was spent taking pictures and taking full stock of every room in the large estate. It was exhausting and by the time darkness settled Emma had barely scratched the surface of the repairs needed. Neal had left a large sum of money for her, but this was a giant and expensive endeavor. Back in her room, she started a fire in the hearth and tugged on a robe over her pajamas. Opening the door to the balcony and stepping out onto the cold stone, she stared at the waves. 

Never, never in her wildest dreams did she believe that this could be her life. In the moment it was overwhelming, the only silver lining in the thunder cloud that was her marriage to Neal. A true story of a love turned into something poisoned, a once healthy plant that grew into twisted vines, strangling everything in its path. 

His hands tight around her neck, the air in her lungs not enough, she wasn't enough. The other women being led somewhere by the red haired woman with green nails, Ari's and Tam's bracelets heavy on her wrist even as she starts to feel herself go slack. The pressure is too much, black spots dotting the air, and somewhere close, another man hooting like some primate - Brown eyes meet hers, and for a moment he falters, fingers loosening. 

Emma kicks, kicks with all her strength, and when he crashes backwards she screams, screams like her chest is ripping apart just to resonate this noise, this wail of everything he lied about. It is a trick of light, a symptom of lack of oxygen, a freak occurrence spurred by the old home and poor insulation, bad wiring and mice chewed exposed cables. 

Neal looks at her and sighs as Emma can hear the red haired woman and her underling shriek. 

“Thank you,” Neal whispers, reaching for her, but Emma's banshee wail is not over and her mouth is a perfect ‘O’ as the rafters shake, tears stinging her eyes. A Swan song, she thinks, the end of her sanity and her life, the feeling of this cry flowing through her like breathing with every inch of her body. Her skin burns too, but not like theirs. 

He makes it to her on stumbling steps, a vision from a nightmare, her scream unending even as she stares at him in horror. His touch is like a branding iron, his embrace like raw flesh dipped in salt. Neal touches her face as he burns away, ashes to ashes, his hand becoming embers and dust. This is hell fire, and Emma can't stop her scream long enough to beg for this to end. His lips are against her ear and his last words echo as he falls away, falls to her feet, the building crumbling around them. Her scream ends when the ceiling piece hits her skull, and the world too, finally falls into blissful, silent, cool darkness. 

Far off there are sirens, and she can feel the burning when her body is lifted, but for now, Emma prefers the darkness even as Neal's last words occasionally echo through the stillness. 

“I'm so sorry, Ems." 

Emma came back to herself soaking wet, the rain that threatened from the horizon now in full force. It pelted her, cold, salt rain, pulled from the waves and forced from the sky. She was crying, sobbing in silence, but no one is here to see the rain wash away her tears. 

#Courtorderedcake #2019 #September 12th 2019 #Roses #captain swan fic #CSSNS #captain swan fanfiction #Captain Swan Au #cs ff #cs ff au #Tam lin #Fairy Tale retelling #Eastwesthomeisbest

[alienwerewolff]

Second Generation

A Supernatural Fan Fiction (Sam Winchester x OC)

Rated M: Mature adult content, smut, violence, alcohol, drugs, ect.

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Full Summery: Elliott and her brother Max are have been hunting all their lives, but shortly after Elliott's twenty second birthday they discover that she has a freaky ability. Max scared for his only family seeks help, finding it in the Winchesters. Unfortunately, her ability has some very similar traits to the demon Azazel's 'special children', but that can't be right. Azazel is dead. Dean killed the yellow eyed bastard himself, right? 

*New Chapter Summery* Chapter 13: Witches Be Bitches Elliott is still grieving so Sam and Dean find the perfect distraction a hunt. Exactly what she needs, but this hunt is much bigger than any she's been on before. When an actual angel shows up Elliott isn't sure how to react. Castiel an angel of the Lord shows up with a warning for the hunters. Let's just say he is not at all what Elliott or Sam had expected angels to be like.

~Links~

Ao3 

Wattpad

FF.Net

Chapter 13: Witches Be Bitches

By the time the Impala pulled up to the small town, another strange death had accrued. A high school student drowned in a boiling water while bobbing for apples. Deciding to split up Elliott and Sam went to interrogate the wife of the man that downed the razor blades while Dean went to investigate the high school kid's death.

Elliott was full of sympathy for the poor widow. Losing family and loved ones was very hard. Max's death was still fresh and although Bobby, Sam, and Dean told her that she was doing so much better she still didn't feel any better. Putting on a brave face and diving into the distraction Elliott did her job searching the grieving widow's kitchen while Sam continued to question the woman.

His voice was so calming and soft. Elliott was always in awe of how well he could empathize with people. Even if they didn't reciprocate.

"The candy was never in the oven." The widow's harsh tone snapped Elliott out of her thoughts in her search through the oven."

Elliott gave her a sheepish smile and closed the oven door. "Just being thorough." Sam distracted her again with another question giving Elliott time to continue her search. Almost instantly Elliott found something, and it wasn't good.

Holding up the little brown pouch she found under the refrigerator she gave Sam a nod before tucking the hex bag into her skirt pocket. They left after Sam had actually asked the grieving widow if her late husband could have been having an affair.

"Very subtle Sam." Elliott snorted as they waited for Dean to pick them up in the Impala. Taking a swig of her diet coke standing at a convince store a couple blocks away from the widow's house.

"What? Like you weren't thinking it?" Sam defended himself.

"Of course, I was. But you just don't out right ask a grieving widow if she was being cheated on." Elliott laughed shaking her head at the giant. Sam smile brightened he hadn't seen her laugh since before Max. It was so good to see her smile again. The rumble of the Impala stopped their banter, and Dean pulled up.

"Freaking hate witches, man." Dean complained stepping out of the Impala holding up a hex bag identical to the one they had found at the widow's house.

Sam huffed as Elliott showed Dean the hex bag they found as well. Dean told the couple he needed to grab supplies and ducked into the convenience store. Sam knowing his brother all too well shook his head and Elliott mimicked him when Dean came back out with a shit eating grin and a giant bag of candy. "Don't look at me like that. It's Halloween." Dean defended tossing a wrapper in the plastic bag.

"This ain't an ordinary witch we're dealing with." Sam explained to them as he looked through the hex bag back in the motel room. "-six hundred year old coin, two hundred years extinct herb and charred baby bones." Sam smirked at Dean and Elliott's shivers of disgust. His smirk faltered some realizing how similar his girlfriend and his brother were, causing him to shiver himself. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the thought.

After a little sitting around and research time Sam of course was the one to put it all together. He discovered that this was no ordinary witch. The stupid witch was trying to raise the Samhain a very big and nasty demon. This was way bigger than anything Elliott had ever been a part of.

Both Winchesters were hesitant to continue with the case. Neither of them comfortable with Elliott being around demons, not with Azazel still looking for her. After the boys made a few calls with no other hunters close enough to take on the case the hardly had a choice but to continue with her.

"Why don't you two keep up the nerd session? I'm gonna stake out the widower's house." Dean stood after twenty minutes of research.

"Dean," Sam started but was cut off.

"I got this Sammy. Take care of your girl. Dean patted Sam on the back and gave him a wink. Then snatched his keys making his way to the door. "Oh, and if I find out you two fucked on my bed, you're both dead."

Both Elliott and Sam's went beat red. Not having gotten a chance to be with each other in months. There was always too much going on, and with Elliott just losing her brother Sam didn't feel like there was a right time. As much as Sam was wanted to take the opportunity with his brother being gone, he thought it would be too weird. Like Dean had given him permission to bang his girl, he shivered internally.

So, the couple ignored the older Winchester's words and got back to their task, research. They needed to find out who this crazy witch was and how to stop her before she raises the super powerful demon. To be fair they really did start by researching but by the time Dean called they were half naked and sexually frustrated.

As they worked Sam was at the small table with his laptop, Elliott on the bed legs crossed and elbows propped on her knees with a book on Samhain in her lap. One minute Sam was admiring how cute she was studying with her brows knit in concentration and the next he was standing at the end of the bed.

"Sam?" Elliott looked up from her book at Sam's crooked smile and slide the book to the side.

"We haven't had a moment alone for a while now." Sam leaned down pushing her gently onto her back. She let him nibbling at her lower lip and staring up into hazel lust filled eyes.

"Then we better use out time wisely Jolly Green."

She closed the space between them planting her lips on his. He was practically on top of her but supporting his weight on his elbows. The kiss grew more intense. Running her fingertips through his shaggy locks to the nape of his neck she let out a soft moan, that Sam swallowed down at her lips. Leaning his weight onto one forearm his large hand traced her hip bone with feather light touches to her bare skin where her shirt was riding up. The same hand slid up under the tee and glided across her ribs, moving to take the tee shirt off completely. His sloppy kisses returned after throwing the shirt across the room. Lips moving down her jaw to the hallow of her throat.

As if it were clockwork the second Elliott's fingers started to fumble with the button on his jeans his phone went off. Groaning in frustration, Sam hung his head listening to the ringtone.

"Just get it, Sam. We're on a case you can't really just ignore him." She panted. They waited a moment as the ringing continued. He groaned again letting his head fall to rest on her bra covered chest. When the ringing ended, he nuzzled his head further between her breast playfully pulling her bra down with his teeth. He licked and nipped at her exposed breasts causing her to let out a soft mew.

The phone started ringing again, this time Sam growled before finally picking it up, not bothering to move away from her chest. "What?!" Sam snapped at his brother on the phone.

"Dude, answer your damn phone. I found the connection." Elliott overheard the older Winchester on the other side of the call. "The teen at the boiling apple bobbers death is the razor blade dude's babysitter."

"Great. We have a connection. I'll do more investigating." He sighed, then looked down to Elliott. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean's voice echoed out of the phone.

"Don't hurry back." Sam growled hanging up before getting an answer and attacking Elliott again.

Elliott felt so relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Sure, she still had demon blood in her, a yellow eyed demon was after her, and she still missed her brother, but Sam sure knew how to make a girl forget her worries. She was spacing out as they entered the high school art room to talk with the girl's teacher that connected the two victims.

"Bring back memories?" Sam huffed to Dean and Elliott looking at the creepy paper-mâché masks.

Dean blinked a few times before answering. "What do you mean?"

"Being a teenager all that angst." Sam scoffed, but Elliott could see Dean's hesitation and jumped in to save him.

"I don't know if I'd call that angst. More like stoned." She chuckled and gestured at the kid trying to fit a giant bong in the kiln. Sam again found himself smiling at her, amusement. "He's doing that all wrong..."

Dean grinned wickedly, at her wording, and was thankful for the change of subject. "Is that right? And how would you know the right way?"

"Well most teachers would smash such obvious paraphernalia. So, you gotta be smart about it. Disguise it as a vase at least." Elliott explained with a shrug. "But pipes are way easier because they're so small."

Sam's eyes went wide at her in shock, brows just about touching his hairline unable to speak.

"Elliott Anders, were you the stoner kid in school?" Dean teased his smirk growing wild.

"I made a turtle shaped pipe for Max's birthday one year..." Elliott sighed a mixture of sad and happy at the fond memories.

"And here I thought you were a geek like Sammy in school." Dean chuckled looking impressed.

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother.

"Oh no, I was a major geek!" Elliott grinned at Sam and gave him a nod in solidarity. She was proud of her geekiness. "Dungeons and Dragons, Lord of The Rings, Doctor Who, Marvel comics, you name it! Just smoking before playing a campaign, watching a scifi flick or reading can be super trippy..." Elliott trailed off going bright red as the art teacher smiled at them from the doorway.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." The art teacher huffed extremely amused by Elliott's red face, obviously overhearing their conversation.

The teacher Don, (just Don) thankfully said nothing else about their conversation. He actually was able to give them the name of the apartment complex the teen that connected the two victims lived alone in. Which was great considering he thought she was a stoner FBI agent. She didn't think he would believe their cover due to her little slip up. Unfortunately, the teen's apartment was a bust. When they came up with nothing at the apartment complex, they headed back to their cheap motel for the time being to regroup.

"She can't have gotten far. Witch bitch still needs to make the third sacrifice." Elliott summarized getting out of Baby.

"She's not at her apartment not at the school, none of her friends know where she is," Sam listed brainstorming and walking up to the motel.

"Like the witch has hopped the broom." Dean mumbled.

Elliott opened the door to their sleazy motel room. Then acting on hunter instincts her hand flew to her glock at her waist and took aim at the two strange men in their room. After being taken by demons Elliott had been hyper aware of her surroundings and she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus." She started shouting the exorcism as Sam came in next to her gun out and aimed as well.

"Who are you!" Sam demanded taking aim and stepping forward to block Elliott from their view.

Elliott stopped hesitantly when she saw the men weren't reacting to Sam let alone her exorcism. Dean bringing up the rear now barreled through the door ordering Sam and Elliott to stop.

"Sam! Ellie! Wait!" Dean shouted and stepped up between the guns and the strangers, forcing them to lower their weapons. "That's Castiel. The angel."

Elliott vaguely remembered the name of the angel. What she did remember clearly was that Dean had told her and Max this angel had pulled him out of Hell. Both Sam and Elliott did a double take eyes wide and jaw slack with awe.

"Him, I don't know." Dean gestured to the other figure. The angels were tall, though shorter than the Winchesters skyscraper heights. The one named Castiel had messy black hair a stern face and was wearing a trench coat. Castiel tilted his head to the side as his intense ice blue eyes focused on Sam and Elliott.

"Sam Winchester and Elliott Anders." Castiel greeted with a deep monotoned voice. Elliott instantly felt uneasy and swallowed hard. The young Winchester was nervous as well, but it seemed like he was more excited than wary.

"Oh, my God. -Er -uh -I didn't mean to uh- It's an honor." Sam stuttered nervously and held his hand out for the trenchcoated angel to shake. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah when Dean first mentioned angels-" Elliott was cut off by Castiel's deep monotoned voice.

"And I you. Then humans with the demon blood. Glad to see you have both ceased your extracurricular activities."

Castiel's ice blues drilled into each of them. Sam blinked back the hurt and shock, tensing protectively as Elliott flinched at the angel's words. She bit her lip looking away hating that title, but she was quick to mask how it affected her.

"Have you found the witch? Is she dead?" Castiel turned to question Dean.

"No, but we know who she is." Elliott rushed out not wanting to be cut off again. The trenchcoated angel fixed her with a pointed stare.

Castiel pulled out a hex bag and handed it to Dean. "Apparently the witch knows who you are as well. Do you know where the witch is now?"

"You're an angel why do you even care about a witch?" Dean defended.

"The rising of Samhain is one of the sixty six seals. Lucifer can not rise the breaking of the sixty six seals must be prevented at all costs."

Elliott's eyes widened. Sam and Dean had told her about the sixty six seals but only in passing like it wasn't a real worry. She was embarrassed to admit that through her grieving and the drama of being wanted by the yellow eyed demon she had forgotten about it almost completely.

"Enough of this." The other angel commanded finally speaking. Elliott jumped slightly forgetting he was even there. He was stocky with dark skin, and a harsh glare.

"Who are you and why should I care?" Dean sassed causing the angel to turn from the window. Elliott tugged on the sleeve of Dean's jacket. Something scared her about the two angels, and she didn't think it wise to taunt them.

"This is Uriel, he's what you might call a specialist." Castiel introduced.

Elliott dared to speak up again, quietly questioning his words. "Specialist? What are you going to do?"

"You need to leave this place." Castiel gazed at Dean ignoring her.

"Why?" Sam breathed.

"Because we are about to destroy it."

She thought angels were supposed to be the good guys. They didn't just kill innocents, right? Dean's voice broke through her thoughts threatening the angels. Refusing to leave the town, claiming that they would go down fighting.

All three hunters piled into Baby. Dean seething mad while both Elliott and Sam sulked. That seemed to make Dean even more annoyed.

"What?" Dean snapped at them glancing between the two. The couple glanced at each other before shrugging. Elliott leaned over the front bench seat from the back and took the hex bag form Sam. "You going to help us out Princess or you gonna keep fingering your bone?" Dean couldn't help himself still smiling when Sam gave him a strong bitch face. Elliott chuckled lightly coughing to clearing her throat.

"I know where we need to go."

Realizing the hex bag showed up after they talked to Don the hippie art teacher they broke into the school. When they found more charred baby bones and other ingredients in the hippie teachers desk Elliott was rewarded with an intense kiss from Sam and an 'atta girl' from Dean.

Rushing to the teachers house they made it just in time. The teen Tracy was tied up and Don the art teacher was at her throat with a knife. Sam stepped into the basement first firing a couple shots killing Don instantly. The Winchesters hurried to free the girl as Elliott checked Don's pulse confirming he was dead.

"Ugh-thank you! That sick son of a bitch was going to kill me!" Elliott heard the girl go off. "Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?"

Elliott's breath hitched all three of the hunters drew their guns too late. The teen spewed Latin throwing them back with an invisible force. Elliott yelped insides twisting and grinding in pain. Hunching over and curling in on herself she whimpered on the floor. The witch kept talking but the pain was all Elliott could focus on as she writhed. Sam and Dean's groans met her ears and she lifted her head to see them struggling against the witch's invisible torture as well.

Although she couldn't fully make out what the witch was saying across the room, Elliott was able to tell that she was now chanting in Latin. A whimper escaped her throat as Elliott twisted to look up at Sam as their time was running out. Sam grunted and held a finger to his lips telling her to keep quiet before she felt his large hand swipe something warm and wet along her face. When her eyes flicked to him and Dean, with red splotched on their face she realized what Sam had smeared on her. Blood, the dead teacher's blood. An image of blood flowing freely from Max's chest reared its way into her mind at the sight. She closed her eyes against the awful memory but the visual became more intense and detailed behind her closed eyelids.

Sam's blood coated hand was on her wrist snapping her out of it. His concerned eyes were wide and flicking from the witch finishing her Latin to Elliott, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze and whispering to her.

"Don't move."

The pain finally subsided when the witch finished her incantation, and the ground began to shake. A dark smoke filled the air before B-lining it to the teacher's corpse. Elliott did her best trying not to even breathe as the body that used to belong to the teacher stood up and walked around to the teen witch before snapping her neck. Elliott held completely still as she felt the demon's eyes linger on her before it kept walking past them and out of the house.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean hissed getting up off the floor.

"Halloween lore." Elliott breathed back, putting it together quickly, and receiving a proud smile from the younger Winchester.

"People use to wear masks to hide from him. So, I gave it a shot." Sam shrugged.

"You gave it a shot?!" Dean hissed outraged.

"You alright Ellie?" Sam questioned ignoring his brother. She refused to look him or Sam in the eye not wanting the images of Max to flash behind her eyelids again but responded quickly.

"Yea, let's get out of here." Sam hesitated, able to see she was dealing with something, but it was obvious that she didn't want to explain and they had a demon to go after. He led the way out of the basement. Elliott brought up the rear wiping her face of the blood as she did.

"Dean," Sam mumbled quietly trying to get only his attention. Failing completely because Elliott was looking at him as well. He was glad that once they had wiped up all the blood on their faces Elliott was looking at him again, but right now he didn't want her to hear this.

"Sam?" Dean raised a brow at his brother's quiet tone, not bothering to look away from the road as he drove.

"This demon is too powerful. It might take more than the usual weapons to take him down." Sam spoke slowly. Both men sent cautious glances to the hunter in the backseat then back to each other.

"No. Sam, Ruby's knife is enough." Dean stated coldly.

"Dean,"

"I said no Sam. The damn angels told you not to."

"Is someone going to fill me in here?" Elliott spoke over the bickering brothers.

"You wanna tell your girl Sammy?" Dean raised a brow threateningly and offering Sam their demon killing knife as an alternative. Sam gave a defeated sigh and took it from Dean.

"I'll explain later Ellie. Let's just save the town first?" The young Winchester offered with an apologetic look. Elliott sighed and gave in the moment he displayed his sad puppy eyes.

Elliott could hear the screaming as they pulled up to the cemetery. In a rush all three hunters were out of the Impala duffels and weapons packed and drawn. They ran down the stairs of the mausoleum to come up to an iron gate full of costumed screaming teens.

"Help them." Sam commanded.

"Dude, you're not going off alone!" Dean argued.

"Dean, go! I got this. You boys go!" Elliott shouted and turned back to the screaming teenagers. That made Sam hesitate obviously not liking the idea of leaving Elliott alone right now. "I said go!" she ordered making the Winchesters scurry off.

The brothers had disappeared around the corner when she shot open the gate, releasing the slutty costumed teens. She waved them out yelling at them to speed them along. When the first animated corpse fell out of the wall, she steeled herself ready for a fight. She spun and stabbed him with the silver stake before ducking from a second one. Quickly grabbing another silver stake from her duffel on the ground she impaled the second one.

"Ellie!"

"Dean?" She panted taking a third one out. "What the Hell are you doing? Why aren't you with Sam?"

"He sent me back. Didn't want you fighting these fuckers alone with a bum arm." Dean gestured his head to her left arm still entrapped in thick white plaster. The flower doodles still bright on the pale cast. Elliott threw him a silver stake. He caught it just in time to twist around and get one that had been coming up behind him.

"And you listened to him?? Dean! That is Samhain he is after! I can take out a few stupid zombi-" Elliott was cut off mid sentence and flung across the room into the granite wall. She let out a surprised yelp and groaned at the pain in her shoulder.

"Ellie!" Dean's called out. A ghost flickered holding her in place a foot off the ground. Dean growled before shooting a blast of rock salt at it. Landing on her ass Elliott winced panting she let her head fall back against the wall with a sigh.

"That's it, I'm torching everybody." Dean grumbled helping her to her feet.

She quickly followed Deans orders and soon they had a nice fire going. They hurried down the hallways to find Sam before they could get trapped by the fire. Dean saw his brother first. Breath hitching and feet halted in his tracks. When Elliott got a good look at her giant her hazel green eyes went wide, although it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.

Sam stood with an outstretched hand the demon Samhain was up against the wall struggling with an invisible force. Her giant's grunts could be heard as he used an unknown power to take on the demon. Sam's hazel eyes flicked up to see his two hunting Dean and Elliott standing in the archway staring at him. When his gaze landed on their wide eyes he winced, pained by their shock. Elliott just watched frozen to the spot as black smoke began to spew from the demon's mouth and eyes. She was unaware of how her jaw hung slightly at the sight of her giant exorcising a demon with his mind.

The demon let out an aggravated howl as Sam continued ignoring his audience. Pain scrunched Sam's features together and he grabbed his forehead without stopping his mind exorcism. Elliott's jaw shut, brows shot up and she took a step forward to go to Sam, but Dean's hand wrapped around her upper arm stopping her.

"Sam?" Elliott breathed not even looking at Dean holding her back. Worry increased tenfold when she spotted the blood dripping from his nose. Dean's grip on her arm was too strong and she couldn't get any closer. Sam's painful grunting got louder, as the demon struggled and spewed even more black smoke. Then with the last of the smoke appearing to sink into the earth, the body fell with a thunk.

Sam was panting heavily blood dribbled down from his nose over his lip and past his chin. Hesitantly he brought his gaze to meet Elliott's looking like a disobedient child. He chanced a look to his big brother's disapproving green eyes before going back to his girls.

"Ellie," Sam swallowed hard unable to read her reaction. Dean interrupted the moment unhappily barking at them. Something about the place being on fire and needing to scram before the cops showed up, promising that they would talk later.

After a silent and extremely awkward car ride they made it back to the motel. Dean was too upset to stay or even talk. The moment he pulled up the cheap motel he mumbled something about needing a drink, extending an invitation to Elliott. Sam was surprised when she declined, but wouldn't look up from his shoes when he felt Dean's worried gaze. It was obvious to the young Winchester that his brother was uncomfortable leaving Elliott alone with him, but he left anyway. Tires squealing as he pulled out of the lot.

Inside the motel Sam sat on the edge of their bed avoiding eye contact letting his knee bouncing anxiously. He was almost certain he scared the crap out of Elliott back there. He had hoped to explain it to her before she'd see him use his mind exorcism thing. Really, he didn't ever want her to see it. Of course, he was aware his big brother was mad and disappointed in him for using his mind exorcism thing. As much as it hurt him to know what his brother thought of him, he was utterly terrified of how Elliott was about to react. Terrified she'd be disgusted by him or worse so horrified she might leave him. The thought made his heart speed up with panic. He couldn't handle her leaving. She had been his best source of happiness since Jess he didn't want to lose that. Sam even thought she had been the cause of Dean's happiness lately as well. When Dean first came back from Hell, he wasn't the same man, though he tried to hide it Sam could see he was struggling. Dean's smiles had rarely met his eyes, his laughs had been hallow. Then after just a night of drinking with Elliott and Max, Sam could see a real smile on his brothers face again. Things were finally getting back to almost normal. Elliott Anders had somehow become a fixed point of happiness for both of the Winchesters, Sam couldn't lose her.

"Sam?" Elliott's soft voice broke through his thoughts bringing him back to reality. She placed her uncasted hand on his leg to stop its insecure bouncing. "Relax a bit Jolly Green? Starting to make me anxious." She chuckled humorlessly. He instantly stilled his nervous tick. His instinctual apologetic puppy eyes looked up to meet her hazel green ones.

"I'm really sorry Elliott." Sam sighed his large hand moved slowly to cover hers on his knee. He looked down surprised by how small and dainty her hand was in his, as his hand almost dwarfed hers. "I should have told you, I know. I just- I was terrified how you would-will- might react."

"That's it?"

Sam looked back to her brows knit together in confusion. "That's it, what? What do you mean that's it? You just saw me exorcise a demon with my mind. I'm a freak."

"Well, so am I." Elliott shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

"No-" Sam immediately began to deny, almost angry that she'd even consider herself a freak. He stopped his protests when she held her hand out for him to stop.

"Sam. I can heal- transfer injuries- uh, whatever you wanna call it. I have a weird freaky ability. So if you are a freak? Then so am I. We can be freaks together, Giant." She chuckled before sighing to give him a stern look. "That's not why I am upset."

It hurt Sam that she would ever think of herself that way. She was anything but a freak in his eyes. He wanted to continue to arguing with her about it but was distracted by the fact that she said that she wasn't scared of him. The burst of hope was crushed by confusion.

"Hhn? Then what are you upset about?"

"How can you tell me not to use my power and turn around and use your own?" She breathed.

Sam had to take a moment before answering, not expecting that. Straightening his posture, and tilting his head as he tried to respond mouth opening and closing a couple times before he was able to speak. "That's different, Ellie."

"How? The angels didn't seem to think so. They don't want either of us using are abilities. Remember? How is it okay for you and not for-"

"Because I'm not hurting myself, Elliott." Sam retorted quickly as if it were obvious.

"Really?" She asked quietly. "Don't you dare say it's not the same Winchester. I saw the pain on your face when you exorcised that demon."

Elliott huffed shaking her head before he had a chance to deny her again, she quickly reached out to his face. Instinctively he flinched back and grabbed her wrist, but let go almost as quickly. Moving slower she reached out touching his face with a feather light touch. Her eyes tightening narrowing in on his like she was focusing on something. Sam jumped away from her as if he had been electrocuted when he saw blood dribble down from her nose.

"Dammit Ellie, I said stop doing that!" Sam nearly shouted, shocked that he had once again let her take his own injury.

"That's not the point." Elliott rolled her eyes then swiped her fingers gently over the skin above her upper lip. Then held her fingers out for him to see the little smear of red. "We both get hurt Sam."

He sighed running a hand through his hair and shaking it out at the ends. Another drop of blood dripped down from her nose this time it fell over her lips almost to her chin. Grinding his teeth, Sam went back to her immediately forcing her to sit on the bed then reached for an unused fast food napkin from last night's diner and wiped up the blood.

"Alright. Alright. How about a compromise?" Sam offered while holding the napkin to her nose and tilting her head back to trying to stop the bleeding.

"I'm listening." Elliott responded with a stuffed nose.

"It's obvious that the angels don't want either of us to use our abilities, and that we don't want each other to, right?" Sam continued after she gave him a small nod. "We don't use our powers. Either of us. If giving up exorcising demons like this keeps you from getting hurt, -I can stop."

"Really?" She scrunched her brows. "You'd do that for me?"

Sam tilted her head back to normal removing the bloody napkin to give her a gentle kiss. "Of course." He pulled away and dabbed up the last of her bloody nose.

"Deal." She whispered, going in to meet his lips again.

They waited till the next morning when Dean was up and about to leave to get breakfast to tell him about their deal. Dean seemed much more at easy after they explained that neither one of them were going to use their powers now. That as long as one didn't use theirs the other wouldn't.

Elliott jumped into the shower when Dean went to snag breakfast, leaving Sam to pack up. When the angel Uriel appeared on the couch behind him Sam he sighed.

"What are you doing here?" Sam growled, now that he knew angels weren't as great as he once thought.

"Tomorrow's November second. The day Azazel killed your mother and twenty two years later Jessica More." Uriel stated. "I'm curious, are you worried about your new whore?"

Sam tensed up anger boiling under his skin. "Is that a threat?"

"No, not yet. I'm merely disappointed you blatantly use the power Azazel has given you when he has caused so much death around you."

"I did what I had to do. If Samhain had gotten loose on this town-"

"You have been warned twice now. You and your little whore."

"Don't call her that!" Sam barked now furious. The angel only chuckled with an all knowing smirk on his face. "You know, my brother was right. Angels are dicks."

Suddenly Uriel was standing in front of the hunter. "The only reason that bitch in there," Uriel gestured toward the bathroom where they could still hear the shower going. "is still alive Sam Winchester, is because you have been useful. The moment that ceases to be true, I will turn you both to dust."

Sam released a shaky breath, his jaw clenching at the threat.

"Or in her case I could be poetic and burn her to ash." Sam's couldn't hide his reaction from the angel. Hazel eyes widened breath audibly hitched at the threat. "As for your brother? Ask Dean what he remembers from Hell." With that Uriel smiled smugly at the hunter's petrified face before disappearing from the motel room.

Sam blinked a few times before looking at the bathroom door worried. Then booked it. "Ellie!" He shouted scared Uriel would follow through with his threats, that something could happen to her any moment. He burst open the door in a panic not even embarrassed when he saw her naked form stepping out of the shower.

Elliott squeaked at the bumbarsion jumping a foot and clutched the towel to her chest. She was just about to tell the giant off for bursting in and scaring her like that but stopped seeing his panic.

"Sam? Are you okay?" He didn't reply just took to large steps to embrace her in a bone crushing hug. "Sam? Sam stop you're getting your clothes all wet. Sam?"

"I don't care." He breathed shutting his eyes tight and kissing the top of her head. "I don't care."

No matter how much Elliott pestered him Sam never explained what caused him to react the way he did. His strange behavior proceeded to get even weirder for a few days. Sam had always been protective but never like this. November second the day after the bathroom incident had been severely worse. She had woken to him clinging to her much like he had in the bathroom. The young Winchester had followed Elliott around like a baby duck all day.

Even Dean noticed his brother's strange behavior. Teasing Sam when he insisted Elliott keep the bathroom door cracked while she got ready. That is until Sam mumbled the date to him. Dean had gone pale and stoic when he heard the date, asking Elliott to just hummer him. After that Dean wouldn't say a word about his little brother's clingy behavior. Suggesting that they just drive until they found a new case. They drove through the night making only two stops. One for gas and the other when Elliott couldn't hold her bladder any longer. Even then Sam stood outside the women's restroom at the gas station until Elliot was finished. Taking her by the hand to go straight back to the Impala.

The next few days were much better but she could still feel Sam's puppy eyes on her when she wasn't looking. If it weren't for how scared Sam looked Elliott would be far past annoyed. It had her worried, especially because no one would tell her what was happening. As the giant began to ease off so did her worry. Somethings she didn't have to know. Sam had his own past, and as long as things continued to get better, she could let the strange behavior go.

#fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x ofc #angst #spn fic #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #OC #new chapter #fandom #supernatural #SPN

[nny11writes]

My Padawan- Chapter 2

<-Previous

Ahsoka froze and pressed herself into a small alcove near the corner of the hallway listening to the conversation happening just around the turn. She had been planning on speaking with Petro today, to understand where the two of them stood. He had, after all, completed the Initiate Trials and she had promised him they would speak. She had been almost excited, six months after their first conversation she’d gotten the message from him. Ahsoka had sheepishly explained to Anakin and Master Obi-Wan why she needed to skip a few missions around that time and had, very begrudgingly, accepted the teasing that came immediately afterwards.

Ah Snips! May your Padawan be just like you!

Anakin, that is terrible to say. May your Padawan be just like your Master young one.

Good luck.

Rex was truly her only friend.

Still she’d gotten their blessing and here she was. Here she had gone only to hear the voice of Master Aayla Secura from around the corner, talking to Petro.

“So what do you think Petro, would you be willing to be my Padawan?”

Ahsoka had been the one to ask for time, she had even purposefully delayed asking him directly after the trials to make sure it wasn’t just her own adrenaline pumping from the excitement of seeing this particular group of younglings pass. Her gathering group, her first one. Each of them held a special place to her and not just for the timely rescue. Of course someone was going to ask him, Petro was nearly always at the top of his class, he had great potential and skill. She just wished it could have been someone like Knight Paabuqi who would be too wishy washy to make a decision. Master Aayla was practically a legend already, her skills and achievements well known, and her experience speaking where her humbleness could not. Ahsoka had held out a little hope of being Aayla’s Padawan herself when she’d been younger. After having completed a few missions with her, Ahsoka could also say that Aayla was twice the Jedi she was and more than ready for another Padawan.

It was ridiculous to feel so cheated, worried, and proud in the same breath. She had all but turned him down flat after all. Slowing her breathing Ahsoka reminded herself that eavesdropping was wrong moments before she stretched her hearing to its limits trying to hear every last word.

“Master Secura, I…” Petro paused before continuing, “Thank you, but I can’t accept your offer at this time.”

Can’t accept your offer? Ahsoka briefly wondered if a youngling had even turned down an offer to be someone’s Padawan. Especially someone as well known and liked as Aayla Secura. The implications left her feeling a bit like she’d been zapped by an electro staff.

“Oh, may I ask why? If you have concerns about me as your teacher, I would be happy to discuss them with you.” Aayla’s voice was musical and light.

“No! No Master Secura, it’s not that. I think anyone would be fortunate to have you as a teacher. I, there’s just someone else who I think is supposed to be my Master and I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

Oh. Oh.

Aayla’s laughter was subdued but honest. “Ah, that would be Knight Tano yes? I could see the way she watched your performances, and Master Kenobi told me she’s been keeping an eye on you.”

“Really?!” Petro’s voice was full of excitement.

Ahsoka echoed the sentiment, but also reminded herself to return the favor in kind to Master Obi-Wan. She wasn’t sure yet if that meant owing him a favor or conspiring with Anakin to prank him, she’d probably decide the next time she saw him. He had been gossiping about her to the other Masters after all.

“Yes, in fact I believe she was on her way here to speak to you.” There was a pregnant pause before Aayla continued, “Tell you what. If she doesn’t ask you or if you change your mind, my offer still stands. You have great potential Petro, no matter who you train with it will be an honor to serve with you.”

Ahsoka was sure her stripes had darkened significantly at the unsaid compliment, and wasn’t sure what to think about this. Her Padawan was being targeted by head hunters! It was crazy, and the better Jedi had managed to withdraw her request without invalidating anyone.

Then the first comment Master Secura made clicked, and Ahsoka tried to not die of sheer embarrassment from being caught listening. It was balanced out by her gratitude at being allowed to ask Petro if he would be her Padawan.

…to ask her Padawan. She could get used to the sound of that.

Stepping from around the corner Ahsoka looked at Petro’s back before clearing her throat. He whirled around, smiled, and then tried to suppress his smile. Probably trying to look like a ‘Mature Padawan’. She was pretty familiar with the maneuver after having used it for the last several years. Aayla smiled warmly at them both before turning and taking her leave.

“Congratulations on completing your trials Petro, you did very well.” Ahsoka spoke with as mild of a tone as she could muster. It was still awkward and stilted.

“Thank you Knight Tano, I’m glad you could make it back.” He bowed and Ahsoka managed to not laugh at the way his emotions had shot near through the roof in excitement.

“Walk with me?” She motioned down the hallway, no real destination in mind as he practically skipped a few steps to be in stride with her. “How have your classes been Petro?”

Petro glanced up at her before snapping his attention back down the hallway. “Good, I’ve been doing better in in dueling, and history has gone really well. I, uh, I could probably apply myself a bit more to politics.”

Ahsoka smiled as she imagined Padme’s sparkling eyes, another student to study and learn about politics. She might even be inspired to have him sit in on a few senate sessions. Of course, she’d drag Ahsoka in too but that was a bridge to cross later.

“Everyone has at least one subject that they struggle with in the classroom. Perhaps a different perspective on politics could help you.” Ahsoka turned a corner to avoid putting them too close to the other Initiates. “How about meditation? I know you have the forms down, but how has it been?”

Petro answered slowly this time, “Well enough, I’ve gotten better at controlling my breathing but sometimes my mind wanders too much. But—I am working to improve that!”

She wasn’t surprised in the least, most Initiates enjoyed meditation but struggled to maintain it for any significant length of time.

“I understand, I’m only able to meditate for certain stretches of time,” She opted to not mention their dismal length specifically, “but it’s good you’re working on it. One more question, I promise.”

Petro practically bounced on his next step, excitement and anxiety flaring before being spooled back up behind his shields.

Ahsoka gave him a small smile, “If you are still interested in being my Padawan that is.”

“Yes!” His voice cracked and Petro tried again to school himself into something approximating the ‘Mature Padawan’ look. “Yes, I am.”

“Why?” She asked.

His confusion flew out before he caught it, and for the first time Ahsoka felt him trying to hide his emotions from her in a more significant way. Out of respect, she didn’t pry.  Letting the silence sit for several minutes as they walked while he considered his answer, their pace still slow and leisurely. He quietly followed her lead around the temple even as he squinted mostly at the ground in thought.

“Because, well, because you’re kind.” Petro answered slowly but with certainty. “You always wait for us to figure out what you’re talking about, and you don’t talk down to people. And, you’re patient.”

Ahsoka spared his feelings by not snorting in amusement. She half wished Anakin was here to witness this. Patient!

“If someone doesn’t get it done the first time or is struggling to understand something, you give us time to figure it out and you try to help us without telling us the answer. Some people snap when we don’t know and others spoon feed you. I don’t want someone to hold my hand like a baby, but I do need help. Oh! You’re not afraid to ask for help from younglings!” This was said with special conviction. “You treat us like equals instead of like idiots or little kids! That’s ace! On top of all of that you are really brave, and strong, and you defend people, and, uh, you…”

Ahsoka waited for him to finish, already feeling equally proud and completely embarrassed that this had weirdly turned into fishing for compliments.

“You’re really good with lightsabers?” Petro cleared his throat. “I think that we would work well together. I think you would push and challenge me, and not treat me like a personal servant or like a little kid.”

Ahsoka nodded lightly as she led them down a path in the room of a thousand fountains. In silence they walked to a small spot surrounded by bushes and flowers, before she slowly sat cross legged on the ground. Petro only paused for a moment before sitting across from her. Holding out her hands Ahsoka waited until he placed his hands lightly on her palms before allowing her emotions to seep across the force to him. Excited, nervous, proud, sheepish, uncertain and certain in the same moment. His eyes became two green plates as he stared at her.

“I’m not sure I can be the perfect Master Petro, despite what you think I can be very impatient. I’m too aggressive and passionate, I attach too easily. My bad habits, and my bad traits, may get passed down to you and hinder you. You may feel that I am overbearing at times or that I’m asking too much of you. I can’t be the perfect Master you just described.” She gently squeezed his hands, which had gone from resting to nearly holding hers in a death grip. Focusing her gaze back to his, she smiled, “But, I would like to try to be a good Master, if I can’t be a perfect one.”

“YES!” His shout was swallowed by the leaves. “Yes, thank you, you won’t regret this!”

She laughed as he shot to his feet and pumped a fist into the air. No she didn’t think she’d regret this either.

#fanfiction #fanfic #star wars #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #Petro (star wars) #Petro #My Padawan #the one where they finally get this thing going #there is more to this but not as complete as these two chapters were #will post more as I feel like #not sure where tho #No Editing We Die Like Meh

[hannahindie]

Of the Sea

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,248 Warnings: A ridiculous amount of metaphors and barely there, brief smut-adjacent-esque descriptions. A/N: Heyo! I wrote this for my 800 follower, Han’s Sing It With Me! Challenge, in which you, lovely readers, prompted me with some fantastic songs. Though it’s taking me slightly longer than I had anticipated, I’d rather be slow and give you the good stuff rather than rush it. The lovely @there-must-be-a-lock requested a Sam x Reader using Ocean by John Butler (and although it’s beautiful regardless, I’m specifically linking the Live at Red Rocks version, because it is fantastic. You can listen to/watch it HERE. You can also find it on Spotify, but seriously, you should probably watch him play it if you get a chance. It’s mesmerizing, so if you’ve got the time...I highly suggest it.) This was a lot of fun to write, and I have to say, the aesthetic has been one of my favorites to make so far. I hope you enjoy!

As usual, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know. :)

Beta’d by my dear, sweet @trexrambling: “ I'm just happy sighing over all these metaphors. They make my soul happy. “ and @pinknerdpanda: “Don't mind me.....I'm just too busy picking my jaw up off the ground. *slow clap*”. May they rest in peace since I murdered them with that picture of Jared.

The first time Sam sees her, she reminds him of the ocean.

Her hair falls in wild, untamed waves, swirling and changing each time she shifts in her seat. She is chewing on her thumbnail, deep in concentration as she reads the book spread out in front of her. She looks up and it’s like staring into the most beautiful tide pools he has ever seen; deep and color changing and full of life. He feels himself getting lost as he watches her and she smiles; oh God, she smiles, and despite being inside a dark library, it’s like the sun is dancing on her lips. They’re full of fire and light, and he wonders what it would be like to kiss her. Would it be soft and warm and safe? Or would it be sharp edges and red hot curves designed to consume him with just the very thought of their skin touching? He isn’t meant to find out that day, but it doesn’t keep him from thinking about her as he and Dean work their newfound case. He may be physically present, but all Sam can think about is messy waves and ocean colored eyes.

The next time he sees her, she's a tempest; violent and dark, her eyes the color of an angry sea as she beats against the vampires trying to kill her. She's beautiful and fearless, a whirlpool of energy as she spins and whirls around them. Sam isn't sure how she's doing it, if she even realizes what she's fighting, but it's mesmerizing. She's like a riptide, strong and dangerous and unexpected. He wonders what it would feel like to be pulled under by her. If he's not careful it will be the end of him, which is almost proven when one of the vampires goes for his throat. Dean jumps in with a clean slice to its neck and looks at him like he's crazy. Maybe he is. But when Sam looks up, he catches her eye and she smiles. This time, though, the sun is replaced by the full moon, bright and distant and beckoning, and it pulls him in like the tide.

As it turns out, she does know what she's doing. She's brilliant and strong; she can dish it out like Dean, she researches like Sam, and she can fight like both. She's a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane of energy and passion and kindness. Sam is surprised when she accepts moving in with them, but thankful. She’s like a lighthouse, a beacon home after difficult hunts, warm and welcoming, and enough to keep him from crashing into himself when there's nowhere else to turn. He feels free with her, like a ship on calm water, and for the first time in his life he can see for miles. He isn't trapped in the moment, or in a musty bunker, or surrounded by dusty tomes looking for some answer that may or may not be there. No, he's free...free to sail from place to place without question, without limitations. It just...is. And she's there, her smile like a sunrise right after it rains; bright and colorful and a constant reminder that there is always a tomorrow.

Sam is driving down an empty road, the windows in the old truck they'd taken from the bunker rolled down, and he can't help but smile as he watches her. Her eyes are shut, and her barefeet are propped on the dash as the wind rushes through her messy hair. There's a ghost of a grin playing on her lips, and Sam wonders what she's thinking about. She's a perfect storm, unpredictable and dangerous, a phenomenon that could have only been made by the kind of life they lead. Sam believes that even without being a hunter, she would be a cyclone, an unstoppable force that would do whatever she wanted. He sighs happily, breathing in the salty, ocean air, and relishes the fact that for once...they are normal. No hunts, no research, no saving the world.

She opens her eyes when Sam parks the truck at an overlook, and she smiles when she realizes where they are. It’s just them, the perfect view, and the warm blanket that Sam pulls from behind the seat. Neither of them say a word, and it’s one of the things that Sam appreciates the most; they could spend hours in comfortable silence, and both of them would just know what the other was thinking. She moves across the worn bench seat and curls into Sam’s side, and he pulls the blanket around both of them.

Sam is sure that Dean didn't come on this trip because he knew what it meant, and he appreciates it as he looks down at her; it’s time that she knew exactly how much she means to him. She looks up at him, her eyes like the fiery ocean as the sun sets into it, and he does the one thing he should have done a long time ago. Slowly, carefully, he presses his lips to hers and it's like he's gripped by a current. She moves with him, her arms finding their way from under the blanket to around his neck and that's when he realizes how deep he has sunk.

She’s a siren, but instead of leading him to the rocks to be smashed to pieces, she's pulling him into her, saving him, keeping him whole. He runs his fingers across her soft skin, every movement like an electric shock, and he can't get enough of it. The way she moves as she slips quietly into his lap is mesmerizing, and the ease in which she slowly pulls off first his shirt then hers in such fluid motion…he can't take his eyes off of her. She's beautiful, a statue carved out of the finest marble to pay tribute to the mythical creature that lures so many to shore.

Their bodies are like the tide, moving in and rushing back out, pushing and pulling, giving and taking. It's fast and then slow, patient yet rushed. It has taken them far too long to get to this place, and now it's frantic but also somehow methodical. Searching hands and grazing teeth, seeking tongues and pleading cries...they're everywhere and nowhere, alone yet surrounded. The setting sun paints her in reds and oranges, and all Sam wants is to disappear in her, be consumed by her crashing waves, swept out to sea and lost if it meant he could stay with her forever.

It's as if the world stops for them both at the same time and she laughs; it’s like a ship's bell ringing across the miles separating them from land, soft and bright, a perfect song as she presses her forehead to his. He kisses her deeply again, can taste the salt on her lips, and he smiles against her. She places a shaking hand on his cheek and he leans into it, his eyes closed and chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, she's watching him. She's the sunset to a perfect day, the rising moon reflected on a black ocean, the sound of waves crashing into worn cliffs and echoing through hidden caverns.

She is wild, and untamed, and beautiful.

She is home.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? My Masterlist is here!

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda  @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes  @deanssweetheart23  @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @mrsbateshotel53 @easelweasel @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @thelittleredwhocould @jotink78 @amanda-teaches @ilsawasanacrobat @squirrel-moose-winchester @mjdoc90

#Han's Sing It With Me! Challenge #sam x reader #supernatural fanfiction #ocean #fluff

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

The Fool (Pt. 1)

Summary: Sam’s in the cage leaving his brother to try to find a normal life with Lisa, and his girlfriend (Y/N) to try and figure out how to cope with his loss. You never knew it, but Dean had been in love with you too... and now is when you find out. Characters: Dean Winchesters, Lisa Braeden, Samifer, and Reader. Mentioned: Sam Winchester, Ben Braeden. Word Count: 2,110 Warnings: Oh this mini-series is going to have so much angst. I’m so sorry everyone. This part is SFW though. Also...smallish cliffhanger? Author’s Note: This fic has been so long in the making, I’m sure most everyone will have forgotten that I originally teased in back in January of 2017, when I re-heard Lee Ann Womack’s “The Fool” and this fic idea plopped into my brain. Go listen. It’s beautiful, and I stole almost every line of the lyrics in this fic (they’re italicized). The one person I know for sure who has not forgotten this idea is my dear friend Jessie, @plaidstiel-wormstache, who has been enthusiastically persuading me to type it since the first tease. Yesterday was her birthday, and me finally putting out the first part of what will most likely be a 3 part (or more) series, is her belated birthday present. Love you, Jessie! I hope this lives up to your expectations. THE FOOL MASTERLIST

Bobby’s neck was snapped. Castiel—he was in fragments everywhere. Y/N had been thrown across the graveyard, her head colliding with a gravestone.

And all by the archangel wearing his baby brother.

The same archangel that had him pinned against the Impala, punching him again and again.

“Sammy, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

It was all Dean could think of to get through to Sammy. To distract him from the fact that everyone else that he loved was dead.

He could only focus on Sam, on trying to get him back. Just for a moment. Just long enough to save what was left of the world.

“I’m not gonna leave you!”

And then there was a moment. An impossibly long moment where Sam—Lucifer, stopped. Just stopped, staring behind Dean.

And he knew. Even before Sam started talking again, that his brother was back.

Dean knew before he put the ring on, before he said the incantation, before Michael showed up to challenge him.

Before he took one last look at the crumpled figure of his girlfriend, Y/N, and spread his arms, Dean knew and finally accepted that his brother was going to go into the Cage to save the world.

And then he was gone.

And Dean was left there, surrounded by the bodies. He was bloodied and broken in the worst way over the spot where Sam had disappeared, helpless and lost.

Cass came back. He saved Bobby and Y/N. They three of them helped him get up, clean up.

Cass went back to heaven. Bobby went home, said he had to call a lot of hunters and give them updates. Y/N stayed with him for a while, numb. Dean tried to comfort her, but she was… empty. Without Sam, without even a hope for Sam, Dean hardly recognized the woman for whom he’d carried a secret torch ever since his brother had introduced them. When he tried to reach out, she retreated.

So, he did the same. He left, went to lick his wounds by moving in with Lisa and Ben. Like Sam had asked him to.

He left hunting, tried for the apple-pie-life.

But he never forgot his brother. Or Y/N.

“Hello?”

“Dean? Is that you?”

“Y/N.” There was no question in Dean’s voice. He would know Y/N’s voice saying his name even if he lived to be a hundred. Certainly two months without hearing from her wasn’t enough to wipe away that memory.

But it was enough to make him miss her to the point that it felt like an extra ache in his chest. Not as vital as the one Sammy’s absence created, but sharper somehow.

“I—I know I avoided your calls, Dean. I needed time to…to try and adjust. And I’m sorry. I know you were going through…” she cut off, realizing that what she was about to say would be mentioning the place where Sam was. Which was exactly what they were both trying so hard not to think about.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you. It’s been two months almost since Lawrence, and I…. Are you okay?”

Her voice trailed off and Dean realized how awkward this must be for her. And as much as hearing her reminded him of what might have been, and what was when Sam was here, he was glad she had called.

“I’m… doing about as well as can be expected. You?”

There was a brief silence.

“It’s been rough, but I’m starting to manage it. I called Bobby, looking for you. He gave me this number, said you had gotten out of the life?”

Dean nodded, glancing towards the entrance to the house. He was in the garage, one of his favorite places to retreat to when the walls started closing in.

“Yeah….” He swallowed, “I made a promise. I’m with Lisa and Ben now. We’re in Cicero, Indiana.”

There was a silence again through the cell phone line, long enough that Dean took it away from his ear to check to see if the call had been disconnected. When he brought it back, she was talking.

“—about a day and half away. Would you mind if I came to visit?”

That familiar ache stabbed at Dean again before he shrugged it off.

“Yeah, Y/N, that’d be good. Our sitter is sick, so I have to be here to meet Ben’s bus after school and stay with him until Lisa gets home around six. If you get here before then, check into a hotel or something, and we’ll go grab a bite to eat around seven. Sound good?”

“Sound’s perfect. See you soon, Dean.”

And there it was again. Y/N saying his name.

She and Sam had never known about Dean’s feelings. They had already been smitten with each other, and such an obvious match, so when Dean had met her  he had hidden his fascination. She was beautiful and funny, kind and strong—everything he had ever wanted in a woman. He was happy for Sam, but he was also secretly jealous of him.

And every time Y/N and he were alone, or when she would say his name, a part of him felt a longing for something that he knew he could never have.

Because she was Sam’s girl.

Dean tried to block those thoughts as he headed into the house. It was supper time with Lisa and Ben, the amazing family who had taken him in, had patched him together. He’d need to tell them Y/N was coming and what plans he’d made, but he’d have to do it right.

They deserved better than him mooning over an old forbidden crush.

You looked up, startled when the door buzzer sounded. It was way too early for Dean to be here—you’d only just checked in to the hotel 20 minutes ago.

Dammit, you had been looking forward to taking a nice bath.

Instead, you grabbed your pistol and went up to the peep hole in the door, “who is it?”

When you looked through the door, you saw a beautiful brunette woman, standing back from the door with both her hands visible and a strained smile on her face.

“Not a monster, I swear, Y/N.”

She knew your name? And apparently that you were a hunter.

You had no idea who she was though.

“That’s not what I asked, lady.”

You clearly saw the woman roll her eyes, then bend down out of sight of the fish-eye lens. You tensed, ready to dive to the side if necessary, when she reappeared holding a six pack of beer.

“If you’ve got a minute, I’ll buy you a drink. I’ve got something to say.”

Well, whoever she was, you had to give her credit for courage. What the hell. You couldn’t shoot her, and sending her away would drive you nuts.

You unlocked the door and pulled it open, keeping your gun visible, but not pointing at her. “Hey, if you’re bringing drinks, I guess we can talk for a little bit.”

The stranger flashed that same strained smile at you, then brushed past you to set the beers on the little table. You shut the door and watched as she stood there awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

No way was this woman a danger to you. You tucked your gun in your waistband, hoping that would help her relax a bit.

“You don’t know me, but I know who you are… mind if I sit down?” You gestured for her to do so, then pulled the other chair out for yourself.

You helped yourself to a beer and tried to appear non-threatening. The lady’s body language was stressed and anxious, and you were curious enough to want her to keep talking at this point.

“I know you’ve probably heard my name, though we’ve not been introduced. I’m Lisa.”

You stopped drinking and put the beer down. Dean’s Lisa? His apple-pie-life match? Sam had told you about her, how Dean had always had a thing for her, and her kid—how Sam wanted him to try to have a life with the two of them after….

“I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you.”

What?

She took a long look at your blank expression then grabbed a beer of her own and popped the cap off of it. You tried to process what she was talking about.

Tried and failed.

“I don’t understand.”

Lisa took a swig, looked up for a minute like she was trying to find the words, or courage, to continue.

“It might sound crazy, but last night in his sleep,… I heard him call out your name.”

She looked so heartbroken at the idea that Dean was in love with you. An idea that was so strange and stupid you couldn’t even say it out loud.

“Lisa, it was probably just a nightmare. We hunted together for a long time—that tends to show up when we sleep….”

She was shaking her head now, “this ain’t the first time, he’s done it before. And I’ve seen him during and after his nightmares. The nights when he calls for you…it’s different. And it’s hard to face the truth….”

She took another swig of her beer, half emptying it before speaking again, this time more to herself than to you, “I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you.”

She seemed… sad, but there was more than that. She was resigned. Lisa looked like she had come to terms with this idea that Dean, the man she loved, was in love with you.

Which was just utterly and completely ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

A small whisper of doubt echoed in your subconscious… Dean had flirted with you when you and Sam were together, but he flirted with every girl. You had caught him staring at you a few times, but still….

You drained the rest of your beer.

Your movement seemed to wake Lisa out of her thoughts and she leaned forward, cradling her bottle.

“I know love is a fragile thing, and God, I love that man. He’s broken, and sometimes it’s hard, but there’s a goodness inside him… and the way he is with Ben?” She smiled, and you were jealous for a moment, remembering the dreams you had once nurtured for a life with Sam.

She sobered quickly though, “we’ve got a good thing going, and I’m trying hard to make it last. But it ain’t easy holding on to my dream, when he’s holding on to the past, to hunting, to Sam, and... to you.”

“Lisa, I swear—Dean and I never—”

She nodded, smiling. “I know.”

How was she not angry? If she really believed you were a threat to her relationship…. You would have been clawing the eyes out of anyone who threatened what you and Sam had had. You remembered how you used to be jealous of the idea of Jessica--and she had been dead long before you ever met Sam!

“It’s obvious on your face that you had no clue about how Dean felt, how he still feels. I thought you might not know from the way Dean talked. But I didn’t know how long you were planning to be in town, and I thought you should know.”

She finished her beer and placed it beside your empty bottle. “Just one more thing before I go; I’m not here to put you down. You don’t love him, and that’s a fact. I know how you felt about Sam, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you. But you hold Dean’s heart in the palm of your hand, and it’s breaking mine in two.”

She stood up and you tilted your head back to look at her eyes, which seemed to be tearing up for the first time in this conversation, Lisa having lost her composure at the last confession.

She licked her lips and tried to smile once again, but couldn’t quite manage it before shrugging. “Like I said, I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you. And now you know everything. Please--”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she closed her mouth instead and went to the door, opening it and going through, before pulling it shut behind her quietly.

You listened, numbly frozen in your chair, to the sound of her shoes walking across the wooden flooring until she was out of earshot.

Could it possibly be true?

Could Dean, who’d finally found a happy life, a normal life outside of hunting…could he really love you? Could he have been in love with you?

And if it was true—what were you going to do about it?

Part 2 will hopefully be coming soon!

Did you like this? Check out my MASTERLIST!  Feedback is life!

A special shout out to a few individuals who voted for this fic once upon a time:  @arryn-nyxx, @blackcatstiel-blog, @demondeansdomme, @noisilyyoungpuppy , @i-is-for-inspiring, @pinknerdpanda, @waywardjoy, @demonangelimpala, and @cfordwrites

To my Forevers, the ones who keep me writing:

@2wonderinsighlents, @adaliamalfoy, @alcpegasus22, @andrastesflamingtitties, @angelofwinchester17, @alexastacio, @anokhi07, @ariethegreat98, @atc74, @arryn-nyxx, @autopistaaningunaparte, @avasmommy224, @babypieandwhiskey, @bennyyh, @benjerry707, @boxywrites, @bringmesomepie56, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @but-deans-back-tho, @captainemwinchester, @carry-on-ms-believer, @casownsmyass, @cfordwrites, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @dancingalone21, @d-s-winchester, @deafgirlsarecooler, @deandoesthingstome, @deanfuckingwinchesterrr, @deansarms, @deanscherrypie, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester, @deliciouslyshadowymilkshake, @demonangelimpala, @demondeansdomme, @end-lessnights, @faith-in-dean, @fandommaniacx, @feelmyroarrrr, @fiveleaf, @gallxntdean, @graceforme86, @i-is-for-inspiring, @ilostmyshoe-79, @impala-dreamer, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes, @jencharlan, @jensen-gal, @jotink78, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms, @katnharper, @kittenofdoomage, @kristaparadowski, @lipstickandwhiskey, @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @love-kittykat21, @loreleilara, @lunarsaturn88, @luv4jensen, @lynnebla, @marilynnlew, @millaraysuyai, @mogaruke, @moonstonemystyk, @mrsbatesmotel53, @mrsjohnsmith, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mzpearlz, @nightmaredean, @notnatural-supernatural, @paintrider13-blog, @pinknerdpanda, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @rizlowwritessortof, @roxy-davenport, @salvachester, @seenashwrite, @septicxsoulxdarkxmind, @scorpiongirl1, @skathan-omaha, @spnrvt, @supernatural-jackles, @supernaturalyobsessed, @theafinnerup, @thedevilinthedetails, @thegreatficmaster, @vote-for-pedro, @waywardjoy, @wi-deangirl77, @wonderange, @wheresthekillswitch, @withoutaplease, @wonderless-screwup, @xtina2191, @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou, and @yume-deaimashou

If you want to be removed from or added to my forever tag list, send me a message/ask! Only 18+ please!!

#Angst #angst series #series start #the fool #angsty #dean x reader #dean x lisa #sam x reader #lisa braeden #reader insert #spnfanfic #sorry for the cliffhanger? #HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSIE #I hope you're happy #you fool of fabulousness

[rowdy-revenant]

The Beauty of a Beast - part 4

Characters: Y/N Singer, Bobby Singer, Gabriel, Balthazar, Chuck, Castiel, Crowley - (future pairing of Gabriel x reader)

Words: 1500+

Beta-reader: @nobodys-baby-now

Warnings: Gabriel is a dick

A/N: Some characters are ooc dicks, not gonna tag this in the future

Chapter summary: You find Bobby imprisoned by a beast at a castle and prepare to make a large sacrifice.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[General masterlist] [Gabriel masterlist]

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Part 4 - The Beast

You let Phillipe lead you where you needed to go. He raced down the snowy path with you on his back. He had to know where your father  was. You needed to find Bobby.

The midday sun slowly disappeared behind the foliage, casting many shadows and an unnatural darkness. Bobby had only left the evening before, he couldn’t have gone far.

Your journey ended at a castle in the middle of nowhere. Old, dark, and dangerous looking. This all went out the window. Red flags popping up in your mind were ignored. You needed to find your father, no matter where he was.

You rushed inside. “Hello? Pa? Can you hear me?” You cried.

It was silent until a cough echoed up from a staircase. Pausing only to grab a candelabra for lighting, you trekked down into the cellar.

Bobby sat shivering in a cell, coughing into his elbow. He looked tired, frightened, and sick. The cold weather of the area seemed to have taken a toll on him.

“Pa!” You cried, rushing to your father, placing the candelabra at your feet and kneeling at the cell bars in front of him.

Bobby’s head turned to face you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I came to find you!” You explained. “I’ve been so worried!”

“I understand, but you have to leave! Before he comes back!”

“I’m not leaving you here! I don’t care who he is!”

“Please, Y/N,” Bobby pleaded. “Go without me. The beast-”

“Is standing right here.” Another voice came. The speaker was shrouded in darkness.

Bobby’s eyes grew wide.

You stood and faced the stranger. “Who are you and why have you imprisoned my father.”

“He’s a thief.” It spoke, disregarding your first question. “He stole a rose from my garden.”

“A rose?!” You cried. “You’ve locked a sick man away because of a flower?!”

“It’s a light punishment compared to the eternal one I got for a rose.” The speaker replied.

You were infuriated. This person had the audacity to do this to your only living family member? And he wouldn’t even show his face.

“Come into the light.” You demanded.

“Y/N…” Bobby warned.

The figure moved into the faint light that shone from a small, dusty window in Bobby’s cell.

You gasped. The one who imprisoned your father was far from human.

It’s whole body was covered in thick fur, the colour of caramel, an almost golden shade of brown. The figure loomed over you, standing near seven feet tall.

Instead of feet there were paws, feline and tipped with claws. Its hands were almost the same, only slightly more human.

The feline aspect continued with a tail hanging between the creature’s legs. Long with a tuft of fur on the end, like a lion’s.

It wore a ripped pair of trousers, dark brown and ripped in many places. It wore no shoes or shirt, as it was clear it would be insanely difficult.

Out of the thing’s back jutted out wings, big enough to seem cramped in the hallway, tips of it touching the stone floor. The feathers ranged in colour from shades of yellow to gold to copper. Clumps were missing, and it appeared as if the word “preening” had never been uttered in the castle.

His hair was just as untidy, tangled locks reaching to his shoulders. Its ears were long and hug down, like a sheep or goats. Curled and intimidating horns extruded from its scalp, tips as sharp as his claws.

Its nose was flatter, more feline than a human’s. Fangs poked out from its top lip.

The only thing human about the Beast were his eyes. Amber, like honey from the market, or fine whiskey. But they were cold and cruel.

“Afraid of what you see?” He asked.

Slowly, you shook your head. “I’m not afraid of you.” You lied.

“Well then. Leave or you’ll die here too.” The beast said.

You shook your head again. “No. Let my father go.”

“Never-”

“Let him go and I’ll take his place!” You shouted.

“Y/N, are you crazy?!” Bobby yelled. “I ain’t leaving you!”

“I’m younger and healthier.” You continued. “Please, let him go, I’ll do anything! Eternal can spare a second!”

The Beast thought it over. “Fine.”

A clawed hand opened the door and the other snatched up the candelabra. You stepped in as Bobby hesitantly walked out.

“I’ll come back to get you.” Your father promised.

“Enough chit-chat.” The Beast growled. He grabbed Bobby by the collar and dragged him away and up the stairs.

You didn’t even bother to run after them. What would the point be? You couldn’t risk getting caught and both of you dying.

Tears streaming from your eyes, you closed the cell door. You sat in a corner and cried. Your father was gone and you wouldn’t see him again. You were trapped in this dark and cold castle with a beast. “I didn’t get to say goodbye…” You sobbed.

Gabriel sat at the long, empty dining room table. He picked at the meal in front of him with his claws.

“So…” Balthazar started. “We have a new guest.”

“Prisoner.” Gabriel muttered.

Balthazar rolled his metallic eyes. “Oh, give it a rest. They could be the one, if you give them a chance-”

“The child of a thief deserves no chances!” The Beast growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

“The child of a thief lost their father and their freedom in the same day!” Chuck added. “Balthazar is right for once.”

“They could be the one,” Castiel suggested. Gabriel looked over at the servant who had been cursed to have the white and blue ceramic form of a teapot. “But they most definitely will not be if you keep acting like this.”

“You’re acting like him.” A voice in the back of Gabriel’s mind spoke. “You sound like him. Is that what you’ve become? Your father?”

The look in Gabriel’s eyes softened for a moment. “Fine. Get a room ready for the pris- for the guest.”

You raised your head as the cell door creaked open. The Beast stood at the entrance.

“Balthazar and Chuck will show you to your room.” The Beast told you.

“My… my room?” You asked. “What happened to prisoner?”

“Prisoner?” Another voice chimed in. “Of course not. You’re a guest!”

“J-just um… a guest who won’t leave.” Said a fourth.

You looked down. The candelabra you had picked up earlier was there, standing next to a clock of the same height.

“You… you’re…” You stammered.

“Balthazar.” The candelabra bowed. “Enchanté. And this here is Charles, but we call him Chuck.”

The clock raised a wooden handle like an arm. “Hi.”

So this castle had living furniture. If you hadn’t been held captive by a beast on the same day, you would have freaked out. “Hello…” You responded. “I’m Y/N.”

“Good for you. Get out of my sight.” The Beast grumbled.

“Wh- what the master meant to say was… we’ll show you to your new room now!” Chuck said, his voice wavering nervously. “This way”

The Beast walked up the stairs, the two servants and yourself trailing behind. Balthazar and Chuck struggled a bit to make it up the stairs, but The Beast had no problem, his large strides leaving you behind.

You made it up to the main staircase and the Beast turned left. You started to follow when small metal and wood arms crossed in front of your ankles to stop you.

“That’s the west wing.” Balthazar told you. “It’s forbidden to anyone but the master.”

“What’s in the west wing?” You asked.

The servants shared a look. “Nothing!” Chuck laughed. “Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. No-”

“Charles, shut up.” Balthazar hissed. Chuck did as he was told, and shut up.

The two led you through a hall that must have been lavishly decorated at some point. They stopped at two doors.

“This one’s the cleanest.” Chuck explained.

You hesitantly started to open the door. “Is anything in here… y’know. Alive?”

“Just Crowley.” Balthazar hummed. “Crowley!”

A groan came from a tall, black wardrobe. “I was asleep, you bloody candlestick.” It said in a gruff male voice.

“You’re always asleep.” Balthazar added. “Anyways, this is our new guest: Y/N.”

You looked at Crowley in what you hoped were his eyes. “Ah.” He said.

You sat on the bed. “What do I do now?” You asked.

“We… don’t know.” Chuck sighed. “Gab- The master can be unpredictable.”

“Get some rest for now.” Balthazar told you.

You nodded and those two left the room, leaving you alone with Crowley.

“How did this happen?” You asked. “Surely you weren’t always like this.”

“It’s a long story.” Crowley replied.

“I’m stuck here. I have time.”

“Then it’s a story for later.”

He yawned, and so did you.

“Get some sleep, love.” Crowley murmured. “Take a nap before dinner. Castiel would want to meet you.”

“I won’t sleep.” You thought to yourself as you lay down. “As soon as he’s snoring I’ll escape.”

But your body had other plans. As soon as your eyes closed, you were drifting off.

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

All fics: @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr@baritonechick @blessedbebucky @crowleysprincess159 @cynda-kiwi@d4rzill4 @fayepummeluff @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel@hunters-hiraeth @impatient-witch @kristaparadowski @lenawiinchester @like-gabriel-and-castiel @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes @oldpaperfan @sdavid09 @shrimpdrake @sumara62 @tangle-of-ivy@team-barry @thehowling1234 @thewhiterabbit42@treitike @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian @tyrex15 @unsink-the-titanic

All Supernatural: @gabriels-trix​

Gabriel: @elven-leaf​ @hiddles-and-skittles​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @im-gabriels-bitch​ @jannalionheart​ @elenawrit​ @trollhunter94​

The Beauty of a Beast: @a-michellerae-things @a-vast-african-plain​ @clockworkmorningglory @red-bandana-girl @icharleecongrevemultifandomsblog @person-born-winchester @sumara62

#gabriel x reader #reader insert #beast!gabriel #supernatural x reader #beauty and the beast au #the beauty of a beast #chuck shurley #bobby singer #gabriel #crowley #castiel #balthazar

[unlikelyanthology-blog]

Pikes Tree

“The forest was our favorite place to go as kids, we would go at any hour of the day. It was our spot to wander, run and rant. We ripped off so many branches from the old trees in the forest. Jason and I did some crazy things, if we had told anyone the wild things we did, no one would believe the shy kid I was known as, could do that.” I told the crowd.

There were a lot of people here, all gathered here for Jason. I was surprised so many people showed up to his funeral. Jason was popular in high school for sure, but he was an ass. He was an ass to pretty much everyone except for me, his mom and Joe, his older brother. Jason had lots of problems growing up, his mom was cheated on by her boyfriend at the time. Jason and Joe’s dad was in and out of their lives a lot. Jason always blamed his dad and his mom’s ex-boyfriend for being the way he is, he said he was angry and he couldn’t help it. He could help it, he chose not to, he was just like them.

When I saw Tina in one of the church benches, I was incredibly surprised. Tina was a major subject of the destructive path Jason went on during high school, he played her more often than he played his guitar. Tina never gave up on him though, she was there on his drunkest nights, his most sober days and his biggest outbursts. Tina was literally the light to all his darkness, but he loved to hide in the darkness. To this day, I can see the hurt in her eyes from Jason. When I saw her walk up to the black, shiny coffin, I held my breath. I really believed she might beat his dead body, instead she stroked his lifeless, pale boney face and whispered in his ear. She could have whispered I hate you, but she probably reminded him that she loves him. Tina was special in that sense, never gave up anyone. I viewed it as sad in a way though, could she not just get over it at all? I mean it has been almost fifteen years ago, so much has happened in both of their lives.

When Jason and I were younger, we would go to the forest at the edge of our town, we would talk about everything and anything. One of the most vivid memories I have in that forest was one Jason wanted to pretend we were animal hunters. We spent the whole damn day and night out in that forest.

“Let’s do something wild and crazy, Peter, don’t be a baby,” said Jason while shoving my shoulder. The shove made me lose balance a bit.

I wanted to do something wild and crazy but our last adventure into the woods left me with a large cut on my forearm and Jason with a dislocated elbow. He never kept it safe, he tried to get as much thrill out of being in this forest as he could. One time he told me that he loved coming here because it felt like home to him. He didn’t feel like he was at home in his house, he was always afraid and worried when he was there. The forest allowed him to be free and feel safe.

“Like what Jason? My mom will be so mad at me if I come home with any more cuts or bruises,” I questioned him, see no matter what crazy thing he wanted to do, I wanted to do it too.

“Well, we could pretend we are flying a plane, and build something so big and then take off from Pikes tree, that would be- “

“So dangerous! We are not doing that Jason, I swear you’ve gone mad,” I laughed at him slightly, he couldn’t be serious.

“Peet, PLEASE! I really want to build something big, a plane would be sick!” He said.

I pondered for a moment and told him no. I could see he was getting frustrated with me. I never said no the crazy things he wanted to do, but this one, was simply too far.

He walked away from our spot, he was headed right to Pikes tree. Jason was a hot head and I know that, I followed him.

“Jay, I didn’t say we can’t build a plane, we just can’t fly it off Pikes tree. Come on man, come back.” I got nothing from him, not a sound, not a look back, nothing.

Something more was going on and he didn’t want to tell me what it was. I knew I shouldn’t push, but he was my best friend, since birth. I’ve been there with him through everything when we were kids, I mean we are kids but we’re twelve now, so we are basically teenagers.

“You don’t get it Peet, you never have,” whispered Jason. I think he thought I wouldn’t be able to hear him, but I could.

“Hey, what do you mean- wait up Jay. Hey, what’s going on? You can be honest with me,” I told him, tugging on the back of his shirt.

Jason pulled away from my reach, “My mom, she’s a mess. My dad keeps coming and going and Joe, I’m worried about him. He’s got this girl-friend, but I know he doesn’t like girls. I just don’t understand why people can’t be honest with themselves or others,” I could hear his voice crack, his blue eyes filled with tears.

“Jason, I, I don’t know what to tell you. You can come over to my house and- “

“You say that every time, it helps for the moment, but not overall. I still have to go back to that stupid house,” He said, as he started climbing Pikes tree.

I followed him all the way to the top of the tree. We sat on a large branch and he confessed everything that he was holding in. His dad was getting drunk when he was home and sometimes he would hit Jason’s mom. Joe was gay and didn’t know how to tell anyone, so he told Jason and it made him stressed keeping this big secret. Jason’s dad was conservative and was worried that his dad would find out about Joe. Everything just sucked in his life, and there was nothing I could do.

“Peter? Hello, Peter?” Joe shook my arm, causing me to come back into reality. I looked up at him, he was finally openly gay with his family.

His boy-friend, Shawn, was one of the nicest guys out there. Him and Joe were perfect together, so perfect that they planned to get married in the coming July. I don't think that is happening anymore, Joe is broken about Jason's death and I don't think he's ready for such a big milestone in his life to be without his brother by his side.

"Sorry, I just, you know..." I tell him with a tight-lipped smile. He nods his head, he understands.

I take one last look at Jason's lifeless body in the dark casket. His hand is cold as I touch it, fingers paler than normal. The bones of his body are protruding in ways they didn't before, my best friend, lifeless before me. Every time I think of Jason, I don't want to think of him in this way, I want to remember the good times we had as kids, teenagers and now young adults.

I make my way out of the funeral home, dodging questions from Jason's mom and my mom, I know they're asking where I'm going, I want to yell the forest, but they will be confused if I do, so I say nothing and just rush past them.

The last place Jason went was the forest, he wanted to go home. I had to understand why this happened, why he did this, it made no sense to me or anyone else around us. I climbed up Pikes tree, to the branch we sat down that one day when we were kids. I yelled, screamed at the top of my lungs. My echo lasted for so long, I thought someone else was yelling back at me.

I looked out around the forest, out into the small city below it. Such a peaceful place, became a place that scared me for the first two weeks after Jason's death. I am not scared anymore, I know he's okay, where ever he is. I feel him beside me as I climb back down the tree. It is peaceful once again.