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underground-secret · 2 months

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x F!reader

Description: After getting a call from John Winchester after no contact for months. The group gets led to a town in which a couple goes missing every year around the same time. But Sam doesn’t want to follow orders anymore, and the town still needs help.

Warnings: Cannon Violence, fight scene (tell me how i did, im still learning how to write it!), arguing, a little angst, talk of crimes, cursing (i think), talk about sacrifices and Pagan rituals (i fricken love learning about Paganism), Y/N gets a little snarky and cocky, use of magic and abilities

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn

Word Count: …14,005

Scarecrow

(Master List, Prev. Chapter, Next Chapter)

“So you’re with the Winchesters?” Adeline says, her voice just as husky and amused as I remembered. It had been months since we talked, I'm surprised she wasn’t mad at me, though maybe she was and she was just hiding it well. “Yes.” I answer simply, waiting for the impending lecture.

“I should be surprised, but I'm not,” She remarks, and I can hear the smirk on her face.

“You know B/N said nearly the same thing!” I laughed lightly, but it soon died down when she didn't join in instead going completely quiet.

“You should have told me.” She says, venom on her tongue, but I know it’s out of worry. “No text, no call, not even a letter! I show up at your house. Not only are you not there I have to find out from your co-workers that you quit and haven’t been in contact with anyone. Did you quit because of those Winchesters? ‘Cause I swear to God I wil-“

“No!, quitting had nothing to do with them.” I cut her rant off, “Look Addie I'm sorry. I got so caught up in it all I didn’t think of telling anyone.” I sigh, leaving out the part I forgot I had people who cared about me—which is so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. But that isn’t what I called for…”

Suddenly a sharp demanding knock sounds at my door. I don’t move for a second, watching it, “One sec, Addie” I place my phone down on the bed pulling back the heavy blankets. I tiptoe to the door, the rough carpet dragging on my feet. I take a deep breath preparing myself for the worst, I unlock the door, creaking it open just wide enough to see who is there.

Dean stands there, his eyes wide and his hair a little messy, still in his pajamas. A black shirt and some plaid pajama pants, though I figured he might have thrown those on before coming to my door- I knew he wasn’t foreign to sleeping with just a shirt and underwear on. I open the door further, “Are you okay? What happened?” I spew out.

“Get dressed. Dad called, ‘doesn't want us following him. He's going after the thing that killed Mom, says it’s a demon. He gave us a bunch of names and needs us to go investigate. Meet by the car.” He answers quickly. I stared at him, all of this was rushed, we barely got any sleep and we were already leaving rather quickly. He looks me over, nods, and then walks away back down the hall to his room, giving me no chance to ask if he was okay.

I closed the door a little shocked, making my way back to my phone and before it was even by my ear I heard the impatient click of her nails against some hard surface, “Now what” she huffed. Definitely mad at me. “I’ll have to call you back later” I sigh, “I need to go.”

“No you don’t get to just call me—“ She nearly yells but I cut her off again, “Addie I promise I’ll call you back.” The line goes silent for a beat and I wonder if she’s still there.

She sighs, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay” I smiled sadly, yet even as the words passed my lips my stomach twisted itself, “I will call you.”

“Fine.” She huffs but she doesn't sound so convinced.

“I love you, Addie.” I say, and I mean it.

“I love you too. Stay safe, and call me!”

“Alright, just to double check all those names are couples?” I ask from the back seat of the Impala, copying notes down on a little notepad. “Three different couples. All went missing.” Dean confirms from the passenger seat. The darkness of the night cloaks us in its cold embrace.

“You said they were from all different states, Washington, New York, Colorado, and all went missing at the same time each year trying to travel across the country. But is it possible that it’s just a serial killer? Not to undermine your fathers findings.” I explain motioning my pen around as I speak, “I mean it is possible the suspect lives in Indiana, knows the roads well, and which way people go when road-tripping. Then being able to intercept them therefore fulfilling his or her urge. Then that kill can satisfy them till next year.”

“I guess, but they always disappeared in the second week of April. One year after another after another. That’s pretty weird.” Dean points out.

“Not necessarily, serial killers can have a certain connection to a date like an anniversary of something. Feeling only the need to do such an act during said time.” I ramble.

“Well, we’re still checking it out” Dean answers plainly, practically shutting down my theory. I guess it’s safer to check but it’s nighttime. I didn’t get any sleep, they barely got any sleep, and rushing over to Indiana in a 3-hour long car ride doesn't sound so fun if it turns out not to be a supernatural thing. “And this is the second week of April.” Sam remarks.

“Yep.” Dean nods.

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer.

“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obituaries Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” Dean beams, flipping through the papers he had on the missing couples. He very clearly looked up to his Dad in some manner, even though he wasn’t deserving of such praise. I know Sam feels this way too, he never had an issue calling out John and he certainly can see all that’s wrong with how they grew up. The thing is I know Dean knew too, he was just trained to be loyal.

I watch Sam in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder until the knuckles turn white. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, sharply, my body jerking at the motion. “What are you doing?” Dean asks confused, straightening the way he sat.

“We’re not going to Indiana.” Sam says firmly.

“We’re not?” Dean replies, shock and amusement written on his features.

“No. We’re going to California.” Sam answers, “Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”

“Sam.” Dean warns.

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.” Sam reasons, and I don’t disagree.

“Dad doesn’t want our help.” Dean argues, his voice getting louder.

“I don’t care.” Sam answers rather calmly.

“He’s given us an order.” Dean bites, using one of his favorite excuses.

“I don’t care.” He repeats himself, this time more firmly, “We don’t always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain.

“Please stop fighting, why don’t we work this job, put all our energy into it. Work it quickly. Then immediately head to California, both of you win” I offer, always the person trying to cool the fight down and offer some sort of solution. But even as the words leave my mouth I know I’m wrong, this argument is more than working a case or chasing demons. This is years of grief built up. Sam half turns to view me, his eyes are pained and I almost think he might be close to tears, “It won’t be enough. You said it yourself. My Dad moves fast, if we don’t head there right now we’ll miss him entirely.” He looks between both of us now as he adds, “But I’m talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge.”

Dean sighs, “Alright, look, I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Sam spits, nearly yelling. “How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

Oh. This is old grief on top of new grief, he hasn’t coped with the loss of his girlfriend not that we could have expected him to. It’s too soon. These emotions are too raw, too new. Dean matches his brother yelling, “Dad said it wasn’t safe. For any of us. I mean, he knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”

“I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.” Sam argues, looking at his brother strangely.

“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!” Dean yells. The tension has exploded, the car falling quiet in its aftermath. My dislike for their father seemed to grow ten folds, to make your own child feel like that—

“Dean, that’s no—“ But before I can say anything more about it Sam exits the car. Slamming the door behind him. Dean and I get out of the car following him to the trunk where he unloads his things from. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.” Dean yells.

“Dean!” I snap, “This has gone far enough, you don’t get to say things like that, he’s your brother! Both of you calm down, please.” I didn’t want Sam to be treated like this, not from his brother who I know cares about him. “No. It’s okay, Y/N” Sam says calmly, his movements slowing as he stares his brother down, “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes, it is.” Dean gives a single sharp nod.

“Well.” Sam shuts the trunk, “then this selfish bastard is going to California.” he puts his backpack on and starts to walk away.

No. This can’t be happening. “Dean,” I say desperately, he has to apologize or stop him so they can talk it out. This isn’t my place but I can’t watch this happen. He looks out at his brother, “Sam, come on. You’re not serious”

“I am serious.” Sam responds, still walking away.

“It’s the middle of the night!” Dean yells out, “Hey, we’re taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”

Sam stops walking, turning around, “That’s what I want you to do.”

I let out a frustrated groan, “What the hell is wrong with you both?! Just talk it out, we can come to some sort of agreement or—or reason with each other.” I practically beg. Both their eyes fall to me but Dean just responds with, “He’s made up his mind” his eyes turn back towards his brother, “Goodbye Sam.”

I stand frozen, eyes wide, this is not happening.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist, his hand warm despite the cold night, practically dragging me to the passenger side of the car. He waits for me to sit and buckle myself before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. He gets in, putting the car in drive.

I watch Sam turn back around and walk away in the car's side mirror. Dean must have been watching too because he slams his fist on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and then does it again and again. I place my hand over his just as it connects with the steering wheel again. “Dean…” I say softly, but it comes out more like a plea. His hand goes still under mine, and when I turn my face to look at him, his eyes are glossy.

He does not turn to look at me though, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the dark road. “Dean” I say weakly, letting out a shaky breath feeling my own eyes welling up, “please, stop the car.” He listens, slamming on the brakes, my body jolting at the sharp stop. He snaps his head towards me, “Why so you could leave too?!”

I lean away from him retracting my hand, placing it on my lap, “No” I say quietly. But his reaction made me want to leave, the tears in my eyes finally fell over, spilling down my cheeks, “Do not take your anger out on me.” He sighs, turning his face away from me, cursing.

“I know you don’t want to hear this…but you must” I begin to say, having to pause to clear my voice of its shakiness, “I care for you both a lot but I’m so sick of you guys constantly fighting over something stupid when all you have to do is talk.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Dean snaps back, still looking away from me.

I huff, annoyed, “See! You get all standoffish instead of dealing with your emotions and I know that's what you’re used to but you don't have to be that way around me of all people.” He goes quiet, with no snappy comeback or even a grunt of annoyance. His jaw clenches and I wonder if that's from anger, trying to hold back tears, or both. “What if were destined to always hate each other,” he says quietly, and I know he means him and Sam. “He doesn't hate you, and I know you don't feel that way either,” I answer softly, even when I know what he truly means. He turns his head towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, “Then why does he keep leaving?!” he says through gritted teeth the last word coming out as if he spit venom.

In truth, I can't possibly know what he feels. He raised Sam and was there every moment of every day. He saw him take his first step and say his first word, brought him to school, fed him, put him to bed, and kept him safe. I was more like Sam in that aspect, I was the youngest with an older brother who took care of me and looked out for me. Honestly more than our own Dad, maybe that’s why he and Dean got along together so well- a shared understanding.

So, no, I could not understand exactly what he felt, not even a fraction of it. But even despite that I reached my hand out carefully, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek before pausing giving him time to pull away and hide if he wanted to. He didn't. I cup his cheek, whipping away another tear that fell. His green eyes seemed softer then like his anger had diminished enough but still lay beneath the tears. I don't have all the answers, “I know it may not seem like it, but he isn't leaving you. He went off to college ‘cause he wanted a chance away from this life. Even now he is going in hopes of stopping what started this all, he’s going to come back…your brothers you can't escape each other even if you wanted to.”

It's not a solution, and I don't expect it to help. But all I can do is hope it eases something in him. He leans his face into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath in.

In one quick motion, I unbuckle my seat belt with my free hand. He must have known what I was going to do because he removed his face from my hand only to put the car in park, release his seat belt, and turn his body so I could hug him properly. I close the distance between us so I can wrap my arms around his neck, his body immediately reacts to my movements. His head falls to the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls my body impossibly closer and tighter.

His breathing gives him away, his warm breath coming out uneven against my neck a wetness forming against where he resides. I don't say anything about him crying, or anything at all, I just move my hand up and down his back in soothing motions, hoping to ease him.

I do not know how I managed it but after he finished crying I got him to switch seats with me so he could rest while I drove. I've never driven the Impala before, maybe this was him showing me he trusted me even though I already knew he did, or maybe it was tiredness overtaking him. But the drive was pretty straightforward and it was dark so there wasn’t a worry about other cars.

He managed to drift off, which I was envious of but I was more proud of being able to drive Baby to notice my exhaustion. I even got to play music that wasn’t the usual rock songs he liked to play, which I don’t have any problem with but a change is nice sometimes (even if I played it very quietly so he could rest).

Just as we pulled into the small town he woke up, grumbling a “good morning” before staying silent the rest of the time. He went on his phone at one point, pulling up the contacts but ultimately he did not call anyone. “Ok, ready?” I ask, shutting off the car after pulling into a spot.

“Yeah” He nods, his voice still a little gravely from sleep. I hand him back his keys before exiting the car, the pure feeling of accomplishment pulling over me. I drove Baby accident-free and made it to the destination! I’m so good!!

We walked up to the only person in sight, an older man sitting on a wooden rocking chair in front of a café. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to be out, it certainly felt too early to be up though I guess I never really went to sleep.

“Let me guess,” Dean points to the store's sign that reads Scotty’s Café, “Scotty.” He looked proud of his stupid joke if you could even call it that, a dumb grin on his face. Scotty looks up at the sign and then back at us looking unamused, “Yep,”

“Hi, my name’s John Bonham and this is Pat Phillips” Dean introduces us both, and I want to glare at him for using a member from a popular band's name but if Scotty doesn't know then the glaring would give it away.

But of course, our luck has long run out, “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?” He looks at Dean pointedly then at me, “And his wife?” Now I really do glare at him, I didn’t know Pat Phillips was Bonham's wife! I barely knew Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin, only remembering because of Dean rambling about it. Dean looks at me, eyes raised as if to silently say he didn’t think he would know. He turns back to Scotty, shock clear on his face, “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Alright, he wasn’t even trying to deny it, great.

“What can I do for you, John?” Scotty asks anyway and I’m surprised he didn’t completely write us off. Dean takes out two pieces of paper from his pocket, unfolding the missing person's flyers. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d seen these people by chance.”

Scotty takes the flyers, barely studying them before answering, “Nope. Who are they?” Huh, that was a little weird, I would think he would want to think harder about it. I study the older man but his face reveals nothing, no fear in his eyes.

“They’re really close friends of ours, honestly we’re worried,” I explained while trying to test him, if he is responsible and he knows friends are looking for them and hasn’t given up he might crack a little. “They’ve been missing for a year now, passed somewhere through here. And we already asked around Salem and Scottsburg—“ But he doesn't let me finish my list, “Sorry.” He hands back the flyers to Dean, “We don’t get many strangers around here.”

Once more his eyes and face reveal nothing but still something about him is coming off weird.

“Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, ‘anybody ever tell you that?” Dean tells him, earning a glare from the man himself. Dean chuckles, amusing himself at this point, “Never mind. See you around.”

I wait until we’re back in the car to say something, Dean taking his rightful place in the driver's seat, “Is it me or was that guy acting weird about this all?”

“Nah, he just doesn't have expressions,” Dean responds. I laughed, “That is not what I meant!”, I turned in my seat to face him, “Okay if someone came to you and was all like ‘my friend went missing and she’s been gone a long time and I think she passed through here do you know anything.’ Wouldn’t you really study the photo and try and think back, especially cause it’s a year ago. Scotty barely looked at the photo!”

He seems to contemplate what I said, “ ‘Could also just be a jerk.” he responds. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Dean.”

“Alright, you could be onto something sweetheart. We’ll keep asking around.”

Our next stop is a sort of Gas Station, all road trip essentials lining the walls from maps to mixed nuts. Aka the perfect place someone would stop at on their trip. “You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean asks the older couple working.

“Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?” The man who introduced himself as Harley responded.

“Yes, dear friends,” I answered.

“Did the guy have a tattoo?” A sweet blonde girl probably around our age asks, coming down the nearby stairs with a large box in her hand, her face just barely visible. “Yes, he did,” Dean responds. She puts the boxes on the counter and looks at the picture of the dark haired Vince then back up at the couple, “You remember? They were just married.”

Harley’s eyes suddenly widened making a little ‘oh’ sound, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here’ more than ten minutes.” Dean and I shared a look, now this guy wanted to suddenly remember. “You remember anything else?” Dean pushes further.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Harley answers, finally sharing some truth. These townspeople were strange. “Would you be able to point us the same way?” I ask him, eyeing him carefully.

“Sure.”

Dean drives down the long road, slower than usual, both of us looking for anything unusual or suspicious. There was undoubtedly something going on whether it was supernatural or not. But there wasn’t much near us, just trees and endless roads.

We pass by what looks to be an orchard, apples hanging from the lush trees.

If I was kidnapping and possibly killing people I would choose somewhere along this Interstate, it was practically dead and no one would suspect anyone driving here even late at night. My thoughts are cut off by a violent buzzing noise coming from just behind me, most likely in the back seat. I turn to Dean, giving him a confused look, he turns his head to the back of the car looking instead of the road. “Dean. Road” I remind him, his eyes going back where they belong.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, shifting myself so that I was kneeling on the seat. I lean over the back seat, having to drop down low to reach his duffle bag, the top of the seat digging into my gut. My ass is definitely sticking up in the air and most likely close to Dean, but I ignore the embarrassment of that idea as I shuffle through his bag. I move one of his shirts around, finding the cause of the loud noise, “It’s your EMF” I call out hoping he can hear me even with my head still buried in the little space between the floor of the car and the backseat. I grab the box, the medal heavy in my hand.

I lift myself up and back to my seat half turned and sitting on my legs, it continues to buzz violently, the meter blaring to the red. “‘Think it’s the orchard” he announces, pulling the car off to the side of the road. We venture into the trees.

The ground was soft beneath my shoes, a light morning dew still clinging to the grass. If this was any other day or occasion I’d say it’s a rather nice orchard but the EMF has not stopped, and I think if it could go any further red it certainly would be there.

The trees were all lined up, apples scattered about the ground and a potent scent of rotten fruit following it. From where we pulled over it wasn’t hard to find the middle of the orchard, the trees cut down in almost a circle, except some paths that broke away in various directions.

A tall post stood in the middle, a creepy scarecrow on it. It looked rather human and full rather than stuffed with straw. Its face looked like a mask with stitches adorning it and hollow eyes, greasy long hair flowing from beneath his fedora. The only scarecrow-like thing about him was the fact he was tied to a wooden post and had a sort of jumper with patches on it, though the added black trench coat contradicted this. And in his hand was a sickle, what was meant to be used for agriculture only made him that much creepy.

Its head was leaned down, and looking up at it made it only seem like he was staring down at us with those empty eyes. “Dude, you're fugly.” Dean says out loud and I almost expect the thing to move or respond, but it doesn't. “Maybe you should say sorry to him.” I practically mumble to Dean. If it came to life I didn’t want a target on his back for insulting it, or mine if it thought I was guilty by association.

“Why would I say sorry?” he counters.

“So that he doesn't kill you if it comes to life!”

“I think it’d kill us either way”

Rationally I knew he was right, but the thought of something like a doll or in this case a scarecrow coming to life creeped me out a little too much, “Good point, but he is horrifying.”

“Yeah, horrifyingly ugly” He chuckles at his own joke, a stupid smile on his face. I try to hide my own laughing, not wanting to encourage him.

“I think I see something,” He murmurs. He moves back, turning to the closest tree with a ladder against it. He picks it up as if it weighs nothing, placing it right next to the scarecrow. He climbs it until he’s at eye level with the thing. I watch his eyes fall to the hand that held the sickle, his gaze at its wrist. Its sleeve ripped a bit revealing leathered “skin” and a sort of design.

I wrack my brain for any customs or cultures that decorate scarecrows beyond just its clothing and face, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Why would anyone put a design on a scarecrow's wrist?

Dean pulls out a paper from the inside of his jacket, unfolding it swiftly before placing it near the thing, comparing the two. “Look who has a nice tat.” he says, turning the paper down so I could see. He held Vince’s missing poster, the young man holding a mug in his hand the perfect pose to see his tattoo. Detailed ink with all sorts of shapes I could even begin to describe, I look back up at the scarecrows tattoo. The two are the exact same, far too alike to be any sort of coincidence.

“Nice tat indeed.”

We immediately got in the car and turned around back to the town. Something was going on and someone was causing it. Now Dean pulls the car into the local gas station. Turning it off and exiting, I nearly stay put in the passenger seat until I see the same blonde girl from before walking up to the car. We needed answers and she seemed to be the only one willing to help.

I exit the car, keeping the door open as I lean my arms on the roof of the car. “You’re back” she greeted, smiling. “Never left.” He replies smoothly.

“Still looking for your friends?” She asks, acknowledging us both. “Yup, call it stubbornness or what have you but we aren’t given up.” I respond, still pushing the same agenda as before. “I’d call that a good friend,” she smiles.

I don’t think she’s involved in all this, she’s willing to answer our questions when no one else was and she seemed to genuinely care. If she was involved then she was quite the actor. “You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?” Dean asks her, nodding his head towards the car. The nameplate necklace she wore came into view as she grabbed the pump and began to fill the tank. That’s how he knew her name.

“Did you grow up here?” I ask, starting back up conversation.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” She explains shortly.

“They’re nice people.” Dean replies plainly. She nods as she speaks, “Everybody’s nice here.”

“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” she pauses for a moment, “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean turns his head towards me, giving me a look. This definitely was weird, I mean how could every town around them be failing but not here?Were they making sacrifices to the scarecrow? It would make sense considering its tattoo. Dean turns back around to Emily, “Hey, you been out to the orchard? ‘You seen that scarecrow?” We were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She answers her nose scrunching. “You can say that again” I laugh, “Do you know who owns it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.” She shrugs.

He nods to something behind her, I turn my gaze to it, my eyes landing on a red van parked by a garage, “That your aunt and uncle’s?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “Customer. Had some car troubles.” That’s a little too convenient, “Is it a couple by any chance? A guy and a girl?” I ask, worried that they might be the town's next victims.

She nods even as her face twists with confusion, “Mmhmm.”

As soon as the Impala's tank was filled, and Emily gestured toward the couple's location, we wasted no time heading straight there. Dean opens the glass door for me, the little welcome bell ringing above us. I walk in first, immediately being hit with the sweet smell of baked goods, the culprit of it being a thick piece of apple pie that Scotty delivered to a couple sitting by the window.

“Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?” Dean greets, walking in behind me, adding “And a green tea…actually while you’re at it some of that pie too.” I have to hold back the smile that wants to escape onto my face, he was being slightly annoying on purpose which is proved further when Scotty gives him a nasty look before walking away. But beyond that I’m surprised Dean knew what I wanted, yes I drank tea quite often but how did he know I was feeling that flavor in particular?

He moves to sit at a table right next to the couple, I sit in the chair next to him trying to come up with a conversation starter for the people only a table away. I mean how do you say ‘hey you’re in danger! haha, please leave town’ to someone without them thinking you're actually insane? I am pulled out of my thoughts at the feeling of my chair moving, a soft scratching noise below it. Immediately I see Deans hand at the side of my chair, pulling me closer to him without saying or looking at me.

I try to ignore his strange antics and the butterflies that flutter in the depths of my stomach at his movement as he talks to the dark haired couple, “How ya doin’?” God for someone whose usually so smooth he was being so awkward. They share a weird look clearly looking uncomfortable before waving and smiling. But their uninterest in starting a conversation with strangers is very obvious as the girl leans closer to her boyfriend placing her arm up to lean her head on as if to block us out.

“Just passing through?” Dean continues, ignoring their reactions. “Road trip.” The girl answers plainly, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Hm.” Dean hums his hand suddenly finding my thigh. My heart lurches, my leg twitching slightly at the sudden movement but he just gives me a little squeeze before readjusting his hold. Splaying his warm hand against my thigh, his fingers hooking onto the inside of my leg as he pulls them apart slightly, the gap just big enough to hold my thigh comfortably. He gives me another squeeze as if he was testing the feel of me again…oh god.

My brain seemed to short circuit, any logical thoughts I had turning into a mass space of blankness and static. I swallowed roughly, my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flying frantically in warmth. This was just for a cover, if we acted as a couple too then they might feel more comfortable and inclined to talk with us, I try to reason with myself. But god when did my face get all warm? Stay focused Y/N, stay focused, I repeat to myself in my head. This wasn’t the time. Can’t be thinking of my feelings for him or the fact that this was only making me feel more desperate for him. Stay focused.

“Us too” He adds, and I have to think for a second what he’s talking about…Oh yes, we are also on a road trip, yeah.

Scotty walks over with a pitcher of something brownish orange, maybe it was apple cider considering this town clearly has a large supply of it. He moves right past us, refilling the couples cups, “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.” he scolds us.

“Just a little friendly conversation.” Dean smiles up at the grumpy man who begins to walk away, “Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks.” Scotty just stares at him, the scowl on his face deepening, but he doesn't say anything as he walks away fully. “So, what brings you to town?” I ask softly, a sweet smile on my face in hopes of erasing the awkwardness in the air.

The girl answers, “We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”

“Aw, really!” I respond trying to sound amused.

The guy answers this time, “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”

“That’s really sweet” I nod with a smile even as concern eats at me. They were definitely going to be the next victims. But I’m also terribly confused, I have no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing a broken brake line means you won’t be able to stop the car but I didn’t know it could leak…

“Yeah.” The man nods trying to go back to his food.

All at once it hits me, I nearly want to kick myself for not thinking about it right away. I want to blame it on Dean's hand placement but it was most likely my lack of sleep because I was in fact enjoying his hand on my thigh…

This small town in Indiana was practicing Pagan rituals, and as much as I hate to admit it learning about Pagans was one of my favorite things to do.

“So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?” Dean asks them.

“Sundown.”

It was common in Paganism to sacrifice something or someone to the gods. It was a time where they didn’t understand why certain things happened like crops dying, so they blamed this on not respecting the Gods enough. When the real cause could have been for a number of reasons from lack of water to not crop rotating…

“Really.” Dean pauses for a minute, “To fix a brake line?” He receives a nod. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything.” He offers.

…However in terms of supernatural beings when these sacrifices were made it did work, whether or not it was the Gods “cursing” them or just not understanding agriculture. Either way it did work, the gods answered, and the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the payout which is why they typically did human sacrifices, sometimes even on a mass scale.

“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” The girl replies, looking nervously at her boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” I chime in, “He really is good, I mean you should see the level of care he puts into his own car. ‘Keeping it all good even though it’s decades older than him, he even keeps my old car in check.” I knew with every word I was stroking his ego, but it was true. Beyond his own car I can count on two hands the amount of times he helped with my old Volkswagen Beetle, he’s probably the reason why it still works.

In the corner of my eye I can see his cocky sexy grin, he squeezes my thigh once more and my thoughts fizzle out again as a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in my gut. Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester will be the death of me without knowing.

“Yeah we’re sure” The girl insists.

“Sure.” Dean pauses, his smile dropping, “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.” I guess he figures they won’t listen any other way. The couple exchanged a look, “I’m sorry?”

Dean leans in closer, “I know it sounds strange, but, uh—you might be in danger.”

The man finally snaps, looking annoyed, “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean says disappointingly, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” The couple looks at him strangely.

The bell above the door rings and I figure we don’t have much time left, “Look we aren’t trying to bother you and ruin your day, okay, I’m sorry.” I start, looking back at the Sheriff who had walked in. I lean in, speaking just low enough for them to hear, “But you really are in danger, for the last couple of years couples have gone missing this time of year repeatedly withou—“

“I’d like a word with you both.” The sheriff practically booms. I go quiet giving the couple a warning look both to say to listen to what I said and to not bring anything up now, they look scared and hesitant.

“Come on. I’m having a bad day already, ‘m just tryna make it better with my girlfriend” Dean reasons, I know it’s a lie but the way the word slipped so easily from his lips made my heart flutter.

“You know what would make it worse?” The sheriff replies. Dean releases his hold on my thigh, a tingling feeling taking its place. We got up and followed the man outside then following his orders, he was going to follow us out of town and we weren’t allowed back.

We drive down the interstate, both knowing we would turn back once it was clear. But for now we trudge toward passing by a sign that says ‘Thanks for visiting Burkittsville.’ I check the side mirror, the sheriff making a U-turn, heading back to town. Great.

“Should we find a motel nearby and return at night?” I ask, knowing the couple wouldn’t have a car to leave with ‘till sundown.

“Yeah, you need sleep” He hums. I wonder if he’s saying that because he knows I haven't slept at all. “Unfortunately I will not be sleeping ‘cause I have a very good idea on what’s going on and I wanna research further” I answer, opening up the glovebox to pull out the map that resided there.

I unfold it, tracking down Indiana and then the small town we just left, following the colored lines. “I think if we stay straight we’ll be at a rest stop in about 15 mins” I mumble, hopefully reading it right.

“Anyways!” I place the map down in my lap, “I’m very sure this town is sacrificing the couples to a Pagan God.”

“‘Thinking the same,” He answers.

“Okay, good. Now I'm not 100% sure i’m right on which one it is ‘cause there’s a lot of agricultural Gods as well as Gods of the woods, but the second I can search it up I’ll confirm it.” I ramble, talking with my hands.

“To be honest, sweetheart, ‘don’t know much about Norse Gods except the basics.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I got this” I beam.

I grumble for the fifth time typing different wording into the search bar. I want to scream as the page turns blank, the only words on the screen being ‘No Results.’

“What is it?” Dean asks from where he lays in his bed his fathers journal open, looking for anything on Norse Gods.

“Somehow there is nothing on Vanir Gods and when I mean nothing I mean nothing!” I get up from my bed walking the short distance to his, I climb on it putting my legs beneath me. I turned my laptop towards him, showing him the screen, “See!”

His eyebrows scrunch up looking just as confused as I feel, “I know we aren’t in the town anymore but do you think it’s somehow related?” I ask.

“Maybe. We aren’t that far from Burkittsville” He answers, taking my laptop and searching up ‘Books about Vanir Gods’ but again the same message pops up ‘No Results.’

He types in ‘Books about Norse Gods’ a couple searches pop up the main one being a thick book only available in a college in Burkittsville. “That’s so strange.” I mumble, I mean how could they be interfering with the internet.

“If they can make sacrifices to a god I’m guessing they could mess with google of all things. We’ll go there later” Dean responds and I’m sure he means after making sure the couple is safe. He closes my laptop, “You should sleep, I’ll wake you”

I studied him for a moment, and he was right. I should sleep, it sounds wonderful actually. I nod getting up, I don’t even bother changing into comfortable clothes or even taking off my bra I just crawl underneath the covers of my bed. “Good night, Dean.” But it was hardly close to night time.

He smiles, “ ‘Night baby.”

Dean sped down the interstate, the sun was nearly down and we would have been there on time if not for all the semi trucks in the truck stop not knowing how to exit. You really think it wouldn’t be so hard.

Continuing by the vast orchard, we scanned for a red van parked on the side, hoping to beat them there.

After some more driving, we eventually stumbled upon the deserted car, devoid of anyone. He stopped the car short even as we still had multiple feet between us and the vacant van.

He turns the car off and I meet him by the trunk, he hands me a shotgun, “Go through here, cut ‘em off--get in front” he rattles off the plan as he cocks his own gun. I nod, cocking my gun before shutting the trunk as he takes the lead.

I catch up to him, running at his side, passing through each tree as my shoes crush the fallen apples with a satisfying crunch.

I squint my eyes, the dark haired couple too far away to get there before the dark figure of the scarecrow does. It was a clear distance away, I could bring us there in a moment's time. I’ve practiced this sort of distance before, it was doable, and nothing like the asylum. “Get ready to shoot 45 degrees to your left” I shouted, reaching a hand out to grasp Dean's shoulder. He meets my eyes with a look of determination hard in his irises. I focus back ahead on the target, forcing my energy there.

The air ripples around us even as we continue to run, in a blink of an eye we’re in front of the couple. A loud shot rings out, Dean shoots the thing square in the chest. But all it does is stumble back before it continues to walk forward.

Its head was tilted slightly, that greasy hair dangling on his shoulders, the sickle gripped tightly in its leathery hand. “Get back to your car!” I yell behind me, “Go!” I looked behind me for a split second, they were running and we weren’t too far from the orchards clearing.

Almost at the same time Dean and I start walking backward away from the horrifying thing. I raise my shotgun up, shooting it right in its chest as Dean cocks his gun again. But these salt bullets were doing nothing and was hardly buying us time, “Get ready to run!” Dean orders as he shoots the thing again.

Not needing to tell me twice I shift my footing, running towards the clearing right after the couple. Beyond Dean's own shoes hitting the ground hard next to me I could hear the subtle click of its boots walking the ground. Now I know how every character in Halloween felt as Myers went after them.

I do the thing that you should never do in a horror movie and turn my head to see how close the scarecrow was. It couldn’t be more than 10 feet away, “Screw this” I mumble, twisting my footing again so I could walk backwards as it came towards us. I uncomfortably hold the gun in the crook of my arm as I extend my hands forward, effortlessly calling upon my abilities as I shoot out pure energy from my hands.

The scarecrow goes flying what seems like 100 or more feet, landing harshly on its back. I want to celebrate and get all cocky but this was dealing with Norse Gods and I didn’t particularly feel like getting on their nerves at the moment.

I make it to the clearing, my chest heaving from the running and use of powers. Man, water would be good right now.

A familiar arm wraps around my shoulder, the crook of his arm touching my neck as he brings me into his side. His chest heaves too, “Good job.” The praise makes my heart swell but the sweet moment is cut off by the man in the couple panting, “What—what the hell was that?” He points between the orchard and me. Double yikes.

“Don’t ask.” Dean responds.

We sit in the Impala just outside of town so we wouldn’t technically get in trouble.

After helping the couple officially leave, thank god, we went back to the motel. It would be hours until the college opened so we really just had to wait. We ate at some all night diner before showering and sleeping for a couple more hours. We woke early, I threw on some low rise black jeans and a fitted black & gray long sleeve baseball tee, heading out to grab some coffee before heading back close to town to wait.

Dean had called Sam, placing his phone on speaker and positioning it in the middle of the dashboard so we could both hear and speak. He called his brother on his own accord to talk about the “hunt” and I didn’t dare say anything about it knowing he would just brush it off. The call was certainly more than just letting him know how the hunt was going. “The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” Dean muses, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?” Sam responded concerned.

“God no” I scuff.

“We can cope without you, you know.” Dean adds.

“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.” Sam theorizes.

“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway.” Dean answers.

“What makes you say that?”

I answer this time, “There’s a lot that points to it, from annual cycle killings to the choice of victims. And I’m sure you know human sacrifices were common in Paganism especially when it comes to fertility. There were even mass sacrifices to even protect them and or help them with wars.”

I begin to speak with my hands again, getting more animated as I get excited, “And according to a local all the towns around them are failing in multiple degrees especially in agriculture, while Burkittsville remains flourishing largely in their apple department. As seen not only through their extensive orchard but their numerous apple products, they practically gloat upon it.”

“And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean adds in.

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.” Sam acknowledges.

Dean answers, “Yeah, we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…” Sam starts, Dean adding in with their usual weird finishing each other's sentences, “And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”

“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?” Sam asks.

“Well, there’s hundreds of Gods.” I answer, “But it will most likely align with Norse Paganism which are broken up into two sections one of them being Vanir Gods. From what I remember they’re Gods of fertility, wealth, wisdom and two other things. I don’t remember too much and unfortunately there’s an issue with the internet so I can’t even confirm my theory.”

Sam laughs, “What do you mean issue?”

“Long story,” Dean responds, “But we’re on our way to a local community college, they have a book on Norse Gods there. You know, since we don’t have our geek boy to figure out the issue with the internet crap.”

Sam laughs again, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything.” Dean replies quickly with a fake annoyance to his voice, “Actually, uh—“ He looks at me as if he isn’t sure what to say, I nod my head encouragingly, “I want you to know….I mean, don’t think….”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam says seriously, seemingly knowing what his brother was struggling to say.

Dean looks to his hands cradling his coffee cup to straight ahead through the windshield, “Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.” I don’t try to bite back my smile, he wasn’t looking to begin with, either way I was proud of him.

“Are you serious?” Sam asks, probably never expecting to hear that.

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—“ He cuts himself off, sighing, “anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Sam says quietly.

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Ok.” Sam responds, though he sounds upset, "Bye, Dean.”

He collects his phone from the dashboard, hanging up. He catches me staring, “What?” I don’t answer, just smile at him, “No. Don’t give me that happy go lucky sweet look.”

“Oh come on!” I laugh, “That was really sweet of you Dean! So can’t a girl be proud of her boy.”

He rolls his eyes, placing his coffee in the cupholder before crossing his arms across his chest, but his face gives him away a light pink gracing his cheeks. “You are a sweetie pie” I declare, placing a hand on his shoulder. He removes one of his arms from their own hold, placing a warm hand on top of mine, grasping it gently to remove it, “I’m not.” he bites. His tough boy act was so cute.

“If you say so” I shrug, the smile on my face giving away the fact that this wasn’t me giving up on the fact he was a total softy. He turns his head away, facing his window, mumbling something incoherent.

I want to start skipping into the library, who knew a community college would have such a nice one. Though to be fair I would say any library was nice as long as it was in good shape. I make my way to the librarian's desk, “Hello!” I greet, my excitement getting the best of me, “Could you point us to the books on Paganism? Or even just Norse mythology?”

The old woman at the desk looks at me a little strangely, maybe I came off too strong. But her expression contorts into a small smile, “One of our dear old professors would have those sorts of books, lucky for you sweetie I think he’s free right now. I can just give him a little call.”

I look back at Dean, who stands a little bit behind me, he shrugs, I guess it wouldn’t hurt talking to a professor about this. Especially if it meant looking at that book.

I turn back to the old librarian, “Yes please.” But she already placed the phone back in its holder, “He’ll be right down.” Oh. Okay, this woman works fast. “You can take a seat there, it’ll be a moment” she points to just behind us at a mostly empty table. “Thank you!” I smile.

“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.” Professor Williams says, as he leads us to his classroom.

“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.” Dean responds, not sounding all that amused.

“Well what are you looking for in particular?” The older man asks.

“Uh, local lore, maybe” Dean answers, looking at me to jump in at any time but I don’t know if I want to put all my eggs in one basket. We had to choose who we could trust here, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with the nice librarian but doing so made getting to the book easier. I hope. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.” He answers.

I can already feel this being a painfully slow lead to the answer, “You know, actually,” I began, “I was interested in the Vanir Gods. It struck me the other day and when I can’t get an easy answer for something I go digging.” The professor stops in his tracts, turning to face me, “Very well. I was not expecting to hear such a clear topic.”

I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I just like to learn.”

We follow him down the rest of the long hallway into his classroom. A small room with desks and chairs lined in order while a large whiteboard rested on the long wall. He beckons us over to his desk, a thick and long brown leather bound book lying there, “Well, let’s see.” He leafs through a couple of pages seeking what seems to be the chapter he’s looking for, “Ah ha, there we are” he declares, turning the book towards us.

I read the first page quickly, breezing through information I already knew. I turn to the next page only to be met with a picture of a scarecrow-like thing on a post in a field with farmers surrounding it. I read out loud the text just below the image, “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.”

I looked up from the book catching Dean's eyes, this was definitely it. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean asks, gaze flipping to the man in question.

“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.” He answers not all that helpfully.

“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?” Dean questions further. He’s really just putting it all out there. The professor laughs, “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Yes of course” I fake laugh along with him, “My, uh, friend here just loves the hypotheticals, you know?”

“I do,” Dean nods seriously. The professor just looks at us strangely. God I really hope he just thinks we’re weird people. “Listen, thank you very much.” Dean says, holding out his hand. The professor takes it, giving what seems like a firm handshake before offering one to me, “Yes, thank you so much,” I say sincerely, taking his hand for a single awkward handshake.

I follow Dean to the door, an odd feeling settling itself in my gut as if something was about to happen. He opens the door and the feeling spikes, my heart jumping at the simple action. What the hell. I want to ignore it, push it to the back of mind and chalk it up to just random anxiety. But I can’t, genuine fear twists itself around within me, clawing at the walls of my stomach as if to warn me. Just as my foot breeches the hallway everything in me screams to turn around.

I listen to my body, turning around as I take a half step back, a large book only inches from my face. A small breathy squeak leaves my lips as I duck, a loud bang and tumble coming from beside me. This was a trap.

Using my bent knees as leverage as well as the attackers stumbling at missing me, I latch on to their forearms pushing up and out still holding on tightly as I lift my leg and kick. My foot connects with the soft expanse of the person's stomach, letting go of his arms at the same time. It was no doubt the professor as he was the only one in the room with us. I watch him stumble backwards, knocking into his desk roughly.

My brain works quickly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The bang and tumble I heard must have been someone attacking Dea—I twisted my upper body to the right, catching the sheriff's wrist before the blunt of his gun could hit me too. I didn’t need to look to know he already got Dean. God this town was crooked.

I bring his arm down closer to my level, twisting it in an attempt to put it behind him, but he uses his free hand to left hook me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. I let go of his arm at the action, my hand instinctively going to my cheek that stinged until something cold clinked onto my wrist. I knew it was handcuffs but my eyes went to my wrist anyways just as he clicked into place the other half of the cuff.

He looked smug, as if he had won. He must have been stupid. Not that it changed much but my hands were cuffed in front of me, magic aside it couldn’t have stopped me. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a ‘seriously?’ look before kicking him where the sun doesn't shine, immediately he doubles over holding onto his crotch with teary eyes. I guess you could add assaulting a police officer to my list of crimes, he may have been a sheriff but it probably still counted.

He would be down at least for a minute or more so I turned back to the professor who seemed to be stalking closer with the same book raised as if he was trying to kill a bug. The second my eyes landed on him he stopped moving, I foiled his plan. “Could you stop with the book?!” I exclaim. He seems to contemplate what I said, his eyes slipping from me to something behind me. He was not good at this fighting thing.

Thin but strong arms wrap around me, forcing my arms to my chest. I flailed around trying to shake the guy off, I didn’t want to use my magic yet. The less they knew the better. “Watch, she’s a kicker” the professor warns. “I know” the somewhat familiar voice of the sheriff huffed from behind me, his chest rumbling with each word. His chest was rising and falling fast, I wonder if he fully recovered from my crotch attack or if he was pushing through.

All at once I stop flailing, a smirk making its way on my face, and before anyone can do or say anything more I bite down hard on the sheriff's hand, my neck bending at a weird angle to reach him. He yells letting me go to hold his wounded limb.

I take a couple steps away from both of them, “I’m also a biter,” I muse. I look between both men, neither of them seeming to know what to do. They hadn’t expected this. “Which one of you wants to go next?” I point between either of them, the handcuffs rattling with my movement, “ ‘cause I can go all day, baby.”

They look at each other, worried in their eyes. The sheriff's throat bobbed with a hard auditable gulp. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared” I tease, smirking viciously, I was having too much fun with this.

The sheriff reaches slowly for his gun, the one he must have put back after I kicked him. I watch him do it, he’d pull it but wouldn’t shoot and ask me to stand down or come with him. He expects me to be afraid of the gun, at the prospect of being shot which is why he assumes it would work. He pulls it out, holding it firmly out in front of him aiming for my chest, “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head!” he yells. How predictable.

The smirk on my face only deepens, I lift an eyebrow at him, “If you wanted me on my knees so badly you could’ve just asked.” I was never usually so flirty or straightforward, but this was just so fun. I knew I was getting cocky. Maybe I was hanging around Dean too much. “Knees now!” He yells again. At this point he was just feeding me these easy openings. A laugh escapes my lips, I must look like a psychopath.

He readjusts the gun in his hand, his finger scooting back towards the trigger, but he couldn’t shoot, not when they wanted to use Dean and I as sacrifices. “Last chance!” He warns. Last chance indeed.

I catch my eyes flaring purple in his shiny revolver, a look of horror and confusion apparent on his face. A look I was used to, and as much as it normally would upset me I could use it now. The air fizzled around me, maybe I was getting better at this, in a blink of an eye I was right behind him. I kick the back of his knee, the man buckling under his own weight, his gun going off. The bullet hits the ceiling light right above where I stood only moments before.

Shards of glass fall, the light flickering for dominance before eventually going dark. I easily grasp the gun from his hand, turning the safety back on before sliding it across the floor out of the room. Without a plan to actually hurt the man, I used what he gave me, pressing the linked chains of the handcuffs to his neck as I brought the back of his head to my stomach.

He grunts against my hold his hands trying to pry the chain off as his eyes search the professors for help, but his partner backs away hands up in defense. I loosen up my hold, I wasn’t trying to severely hurt the guy or kill him for that matter. “‘Had enough?” I ask, mostly teasing.

Suddenly a soft plush material is pressed to my face, I move to fight or teleport away but my limbs suddenly feel too heavy and my eyes begin to droop. My body feels like it’s falling even as I stand in place, I think. My eyes begin to flutter close, my legs giving out on me. The world turns black.

My head feels fuzzy. My eyes are too heavy to open just yet. It smelt bad, a musty smell combined with a farm-like smell. The ground was comfortable.

I try to open my eyes but they flutter shut again. Someones calling my name, they’re too far away…need to come closer. My head was pounding.

Something suddenly brushes into my hair repeatedly. Even still half gone, fear spikes in me. My eyes shoot open, my upper body jolting up into a seated position. Familiar hands hold my shoulders as I sway, the room seeming to move back and forth, “It's okay, you’re okay” Dean says soothingly. I stare at him, his features becoming less and less blurry as I blink.

He cups my face gently, his fingers barely brushing against my skin. He seems to study me, most likely noting the bruise that is undoubtedly forming where I was hit. His thumb brushes over my wounded cheekbone gently, yet even so I wince sucking in a breath between my teeth. “Sorry” he mumbles, meeting my eyes. I hum, my tongue feeling too heavy to utter a word. “What happened to you?” he asks softly.

I swallow, trying to force my tongue to work enough to answer but my words still come out too quietly, “You went down first. I fought, but I think someone else came. They covered my mouth with a thingy, maybe they used, um, what is it called?” My thoughts felt all jumbled still, fog covering the expanse of my brain. My head was killing me too much to think straight. He practically scowls, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, “Chloroform” he answers. I smile weakly, “yeah that.”

I want to lay down. The room was still spinning, my head hurt. This was embarrassing, I had gotten all confident before– feeling invincible only to be drugged. I remove Dean's hands from my face, holding them instead as I place them on his lap. I looked around us, the room might be moving but it was obvious enough it was some sort of basement. No, a cellar. It was dark and empty, except for the straws of hay lying around. And just across from us was a small staircase up to what seemed like cellar doors. “It's locked,” Dean says, noticing my stare. Of course it is.

But if I could just right my mind, clear the fog, I could get us out easy peasy. Almost as if I willed it, the cellar doors creek open. The sunlight floods through, I try to block it with my hand, the sudden light worsening my headache if that was even possible. I need Advil. Dean lets go of my hand getting up quickly, just watching the quick movement makes me want to vomit. I blink slowly, following suit, with a lot of stumbling I make it to my feet even as it feels like the room is pulling me down.

Four jerks stand just outside the cellar, Harley and Stacy, Scotty, and the Sheriff. Harley moves close to the stairs as if he's about to descend them before getting abruptly stopped by the Sheriff, “I wouldn’t, she's feisty.” Dean laughs at that, my assault on the man very apparent by the various bruises he displayed. I would smirk or laugh too if it didn't feel like I was using all my energy to keep me standing. Harley knocks the Sheriff's hand off but makes no move to get closer, “She’s also still drugged” he bites. “Wrong,” I pointed a finger up, feeling more like a drunk as I spoke, “This would be the side effects or aftermath of Chloroform.” All four of them looked at me blankly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know.

“I hope you both know this is for the common good,” Stacy nods. I furrow my eyebrows, “Thanks for the preaching, lady. It really eases the brain into all this sacrificial nonsense.”

“That's enough” she replies rather calmly before nodding to the others. They begin to close the cellar doors, darkness enveloping us. I sat down rather quickly, landing on my butt harshly, “I'm surprised you didn't say anything snarky to them.”

“You were more entertaining” He answers with a half shrug. He tries the cellar door again but of course it's locked, he huffs moving to sit next to me.

I lean my head on his shoulder. He speaks softly now so as not to disturb my throbbing head, “Where do you think this important tree would be?” He was referring to the tree we would have to destroy in order to kill the scarecrow, and it was a good question. “Hm” I hum, “It would be the oldest tree here, probably the most protected. Maybe the first immigrants brought it over here, so it’s wherever they would plant it. I would say in the middle.” He nods and I swear I could hear the gears in his head turning.

The cellar doors open again, Stacy coming into view “It’s time.” I want to ask why they didn't just take us the first time they opened the doors but I guess waiting to die a little later was better than sooner. I remove my head from Dean's shoulder, do we fight? It would be 4 against 2 except I wasn't completely okay. But we could fight, right? I mean we always make it out, we always wind up fine.

Harley and the Sheriff come down the stairs, the Sheriff watches me carefully as he lifts Dean forcefully up. Harley doesn't show any remorse as he grips my forearm tightly, lifting me to my feet before grabbing my other arm roughly holding them behind my back. I struggle against him attempting to step hard on his foot as he forces me up the stairs behind Dean.

Real fear twirled itself around me, were we not going to fight?

They drag us forward deeper into the orchard, I dig my heels into the dirt trying to slow it down as much as I can. I’m scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to be sacrificed to some god. Please. Please. My headache needs to go away, let me use my powers without pain. I struggle against him more, trying to let my magic seep into anything around me but immediately my headache worsens by ten folds. I grunt in frustration, trying to shake the older man off further but he only tightens his grip. I hope bruises won't come from it, not that it would matter if I died today. I close my eyes tightly, digging my heels in further, please. Please. Anything, please.

Harley pushes me forward effortlessly. I don't want to die. Please. Please.

The ground begins to rumble, shaking violently. Apples tumble from the trees hitting the ground with a bunch of thumps. My heart beats wildly in my chest as if it's trying to jump out and run away. His grip loosens on me as he freezes in place, “It's angry at us!” Stacy yells covering her head. I wiggle out of Harleys hold, taking a couple steps away as my legs wobble like the ground. A familiar click locks into place, I come face to face with a gun, “It’s not causing this. It's her” the Sheriff accuses.

“Dont touch her” Dean yells, struggling against Scotty's hold. The Sheriff must have passed him on to hold me at gunpoint for the second time today. “I'm not doing anything” I spit, the shaking ground growing more intense.

“Your eyes are glowing again” he states. “What are you talking about?” I nearly yell, I think I would know if I was using my own abilities. Plus I've never done anything like this before so how would I be able to do so now?

Before I can react he has my hair wrapped in his fist, pulling my head back forcefully a hiss of pain escaping my lips. It felt like it was going to rip itself right from the roots. “Dont you fucking hurt her!” Dean roars. The ground seems to become more violent, the large trees themselves shaking where they stood while everyone nearly stumbles over. He pulls my hair hard, my neck snapping back as he moves his shiny gun in front of me, showing me its side.

My only slightly blurred reflection stares back at me. My cheekbone had a dark bruise painted there and my eyes were–

My irises were purple. No. It doesn't make sense, I wasn't controlling this. I wasn't making it happen, I've never done this before. The Sheriff pushes me forward letting go of my hair at the last minute, I fall to my knees only a foot away from him. The barrel of the gun is pressed into the back of my skull, “Make it stop or I'll make you stop” he threatens. I can hear Dean struggle against Scotty again, and in the corner of my eyes I see him finally pull away before turning around and punching the man right in the face. Scotty doubles over, but before Dean could do any more damage to anyone else Harvey grabs him.

“You can't kill her, we have to leave them both for it” Stacy argues. The ground seems to roar, the earth shaking so siverley I nearly fall to my hands. “I would stop if I could!” I admit, “I don't kno–” I cut myself off, a sudden deep memory making its way to the surface of my brain. A memory of a deceased corn field, a disaster I caused.

“Make it stop!” the sheriff spits. “I told you I don't know h–” Suddenly the gun is raised up and before I could do anything to stop it, the gun hits the side of my skull. My head feels like it explodes as I hit the ground, my eyes struggle to stay open. The last thing I see before it all goes dark again is Dean trying to lunge forward and the ground halting in its shaking.

My eyes flutter open, my horrible headache accompanied with an even worse head-ache. Both in my head and outside. At this point my brain should be a scrambled mess.

My wrists were zip tied to a thinner part of the tree trunk my back rested on. It was just beginning to be dark out. I move my gaze from above me to across me, Dean sitting against a different tree in the same position I was in. His eyes widen and he attempts to move closer before grunting in frustration at the restrictions of his wrists, “You're awake. Are you okay?” He licks his lips, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll kill ‘em.”

I don't say anything, my head is too heavy. He's staring at me with wide eyes, fear clear in his irises. “‘You okay?” he asks again. I nod, my head hurts and I’m confused and upset, but I’m alive so I’m okay. He shakes his head, “No.” I look at him confused, I don't understand. He continues to shake his head, wetting his lips again, “Say it. I need to hear you say it,” he sounded breathless, “I need to hear you say you're okay.”

“Im okay” I say weakly. He sighs, relief clear in the way his shoulders drop. But I had a feeling he knew I wasn't being totally truthful.

He swallows roughly, “Can you see the scarecrow?” Despite my heavy head I look in each direction for the thing, until I can slightly see the post. “Dean” I start and I can hear my own voice wobble with fear, “It's not there.” He fights against his restraints, and I would join him in that effort if my head hasn't already given up on me. “I hope their apple pie is frickin’ worth it” he grumbles.

A shadow catches just behind Dean, I squint hoping I'm just seeing things from potential brain damage then the actual scarecrow. “Dean, I think it's behind you.” Forget everything I said and thought, I begin fighting against my own restraints, the zip ties digging into my wrists harshly. “Dean?” a familiar voice called out.

Sam’s tall figure comes into view as he rounds the tree Dean is tied to. Dean twists his neck oddly to see his brother, “Oh!” he sighs in relief, “Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.” Sam takes that as his chance to assess his brother's binding before pulling out his pocket knife, “‘You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he works on sawing the bindings. “Dandy” I respond, truly done with this all.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks his brother.

“I, uh–I stole a car.”

Dean laughs at that, “That's my boy!” His bindings finally break with a snap. Sam doesn't wait for his brother to get up as he walks the short distance to me, beginning to remove my own restraints. His eyes gaze down at me every now and then, most likely assessing the damage.

Deans at my side a breath later, squatting down to be at my level. He brings his hand carefully to my face, gently moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. Something feels dried and stiff there and I wonder if it's blood from being hit or just dirt. I tilt and roll my head away from him, the pain overwhelming even with the delicate touch.

My restraints snap above me, bits of the plastic tangling itself into my hair. My wrists are raw and red, just one more thing to add to the list. I place my hands on the cold dirt, trying to pick myself up but my ears begin to ring and my vision spins. I sit back down again, huffing. Strong arms grab my arm and waist all but lifting me off the ground and onto my feet, “‘You got eyes on the scarecrow?” Dean asks, looking at his brother who shakes his head. “Alright, I can carry you, the clearing isn’t far off” Dean says looking down at me.

“That's ridiculous,” I shake my head, “I’ll slow you down. I’ll just push through, and we don't have time to argue this.” He grumbles, he doesn't like the idea. But again we don't know where the scarecrow is and we can't waste time bickering over stupid logistics.

I immediately regret not taking the offer. My brain feels like it's jumping around in my skull and swishing side to side as if on a boat. I feel like the orchard is spinning around me, tumbling over itself like one of those tunnels in a fun house.

“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about–” Sam pants lightly as we run, Dean having filled him in on the information we gathered. “It's the source of its power” I finish, my voice feeling far away even in my own ears. “So let’s find it and burn it.” Sam annonces.

“Nah, in the morning.” Dean counters, “Let’s just shag ass before Leather face catches up.”

We come to a skidding stop, just at a clearing of trees the four jerks from before as well as a couple others stand guard. Sam nudged us in a different direction just to be met with a wall of people, we were surrounded. “Did the whole fricking town come to watch us die?!” I exclaim, “Just let us leave!” I was so tired of this, I just want to go to a motel or something and shower off today's fears before falling into a deep sleep. “It’ll be over quickly” Harley says, and if it was meant to be comforting it was not working. “It's for the greater go–” suddenly a sickle is pushed through his stomach. His mouth opens in shock, blood dripping down the sides. Screams come from all around us, and I hardly know if I was screaming too.

He’s raised off the ground before the sickle is quickly pulled out. Stacy still stands there screaming, watching her dying husband on the floor. But soon her screams are cut off too, the sickle going through her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open too as blood not only spurts out of her neck but spills down like a waterfall onto her shirt. The air fills quickly with all the blood's metallic scent. The scarecrow does not retract its weapon, keeping the curved blade in her neck as it grabs onto Harley's collar dragging them both behind it.

Shock had frozen us in place, but apparently not the townspeople. “Come on let’s go,” Dean insists, leading us away.

Morning came by far too slowly but at least we passed the time by using the stolen car to drive back to the college to get the Impala before returning to the orchard. It all went by so weirdly, I knew I was moving but it felt like I never left that road outside the expanse of apple trees. I hardly remember the drive there or the drive back, everything still spun and the ringing only got louder. I think I might have lost my mind.

We stand in front of the sacred tree though I don't remember how we found it. The tree had Vince’s tattoo printed onto it, that was a tell tale sign it was the right one. Sam pours gasoline all over it, Dean picks up a long branch lighting it on fire before throwing it onto the tree. “‘Think the towns ‘gonna be okay?” Sam asks as the flaming tree roars with the crackling flames. “Don’t know” Dean shrugs, but I think the answer was apparent to all of us.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam adds.

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean answers.

We walk back to the car leaving the burning tree behind us, though I hope it won’t spread and cause a whole forest fire, “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asks.

“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Sam explains, “But, Jess and Mom—they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me, Y/N. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

I give Sam's arm a little squeeze, it was a really sweet speech.

“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Dean smiles, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder who hits it away. They fall into a fit of laughter, “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.” Sam says between laughs.

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten us out.” Dean scuffs.

“Right.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #john winchester #slow burn #witch reader #witchcraft #dean winchester x witch reader #dean winchester x f!reader #the hunter and the witch #the hunter and the witch update #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #angst #arguing

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ijwrsmff · 2 months

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My Dear Daughter-Yandere! Father-Figure Mihawk & Daughter-Figure Reader

A commission for anonymous! This is a longer one, and I'm grateful they gave me the chance to write for this prompt <3 Platonic Yanderes need love too!

Summary: Reader is a stowaway on a pirate ship, and after getting injured you find yourself a savior in the man who destroyed the ship with but a single blow. You're terrified to speak up, but he's done nothing but spoil you. It's not enough though. You want to go home. Mihawk however, now seeing you as a daughter, is doing anything to prevent it from happening.

Word Count: 5,127

Everything was going well…too well. You should have expected everything to go awry, but you had hoped it wouldn’t. The crew had found you. You were trying to hide in the storage room, escaping the dull life of your home island. But people had been reluctant to take a 17 year old to another island, claiming you’d only weigh them down. Even aside from that, the next island was a total of nine days away. So your solution? Hide on a ship when there weren’t many people tending to it.

Little did you know, it was a pirate ship. It was a lapse of judgment, and you regretted it only when they found you. Luck wasn’t on your side today, it seems. They had dragged you out, and tossed you down on the main deck. You could already feel the bruises forming, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear you felt being surrounded by all these pirates. They were looking at you in a way that you know meant you were in for a world of hurt.

One drunk was holding a sword, and made a “fake” jab towards you, but he clearly intended to slice your leg, which he did. But you refused to make a sound, even though it was severe. Your blood started to seep through to the wooden deck, and you glared at the pirates as they laughed. After that, there were several more little cuts and bruises.

Why did you have to try and leave? If you’d stayed at home, it wouldn’t have been exciting by any means…but you wouldn’t have been hurting, surrounded by who knows how many pirates. They were vile, spewing promises on the pain to come. You were probably only there a couple minutes, but it felt like years. You only hoped they reached the island soon. If they didn’t…you’d have another eight days of torture. You didn’t know if you could bear that.

Within minutes of this realization, you heard shouting coming from the crow’s nest above you. He sounded confused, but announced it to the crew and his captain. It made you curious, as his words…didn’t really make sense.

“Captain! There’s a man floating on a small raft in the water! What do you want me to do?” He leaned over and looked down at the group, his eyes lingering on you momentarily before returning to his place in the crow’s nest.

“Raft? What’s on it?” The captain called back to him, not sounding too concerned. If anything, he seemed to smirk in place and call back, “Someone shoot him down.” He turned back to you and grabbed your shirt collar, pulling you close to his face with a look that could only be described as sinister. “Hey little girl…you wanna see what happens to people who bother pirates? If you don’t listen, it’ll be you next.”

His breath reeked of alcohol, and it made you flinch back. When he mentioned shooting down the man, your eyes widened. Was he about to kill the man? If he was on a raft, he might even need help! “W-Wait! Don’t kill him! If he’s just on a raft he doesn’t have anything valuable, what could you possibly get from kill-” But the words were cut off when the captain yelled in your face.

“WHY? WHY am I doing this?” He cackled, and the crew joined in. “Because we’re pirates. Why SHOULDN’T we send a message? It’s a message for you, don’t you feel special?” He turned to a couple crew members and nodded to the cannons with his head. “Don’t miss. There’s no warning shots this time.” He grabbed you by the back of the neck and dragged you to the side of the ship, so you could see the spectacle about to happen.

As the crew loaded the cannons and got ready to fire, the captain tilted his head slightly. “Wait…” the gears in his head were turning, and as the small raft got closer he began to shake in fear. “WAIT! MEN DON’T SHOOT-” He sounded frantic, and continued, “WE HAVE TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” He let go of you, clearly not concerned with you right now. Whoever that man was, even this group of pirates were terrified of him.

You leaned towards the ledge, and considered jumping over and begging the man on the raft to get YOU out of here. Staying with these pirates was dangerous, maybe he was with the marines? Why else would these pirates be so terrified? It wasn’t a great option, but neither was staying with these pirates. But you didn’t have much time to debate.

The man stood on the small raft, and pulled up a sword bigger than any you’d ever seen. It was shaped like a cross, and it hit you. This was Dracule Mihawk. One of the seven warlords of the sea. Meaning he was a pirate, just like them. But what if he thought you were one of them, he surely wouldn’t kill someone innocent when working for the government…right?

You waved your arms at him, hoping he’d get the message. But he had already swung his sword. Within half a second, the boat was split in half. You stumbled, and tried to gain your bearings, but with your injuries it proved to be a more difficult task than you imagined. Falling several meters into the ocean as it churned was terrifying, and you struggled to swim back to the surface. But with all the debris falling…you knew. You were going to drown here.

You were near passing out, and you couldn’t hold your breath anymore…until a hand reached down and pulled you up. As you coughed, placed on a solid surface you looked up and saw the gaze of Mihawk. His eyes were piercing, and it was as if he was looking straight through you. It took everything in you to not cower under that look. He was much taller than you, and his sword was resting behind the makeshift seat.

“Are you alright?” He asked, though his eyes were glancing over your body, taking in the injuries you had. You had no idea what he was thinking, his face was completely blank, and his voice monotone. “Allow me.” He said and reached down to help you up.

You swayed, and all but fell into his arms. The raft didn’t rock much, but you could still feel the movement of the waves under your feet. He placed a firm hand on your upper arm and kept you steady. “What…are you doing? Why did you save me?” Was all you could get out. You tried to scour his face for any traces of emotion, but found none. Aside from a brief second of softness in his eyes, though it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You needed help. I’m providing that.” He carefully moved you to set you on the only seat on the small raft. He knelt down and looked at you. Even when you were sitting on the small chair, he was bigger than you as he rested on one knee. His tone was ‘matter-of-fact’ and you were reeling your mind trying to think of what he was thinking.

“Uh…okay…” You couldn’t find any other words. Help was needed, and if he was willing to provide that…it shouldn’t be too bad? You were bleeding more and more by the second, and the sea salt in those wounds were only aggravating them. It honestly made you feel as if you’d pass out. Your eyes continued to flutter shut, but the fear of being alone in the vast sea with a warlord kept you fighting.

“Don’t worry…you’ll be able to rest soon.” He tore off small strips of his clothing and wrapped it around the larger wounds, and opened the water bottle he had in an attempt to clean those wounds. He moved swiftly but carefully, as the raft floated further and further from the remains of the shipwreck.

Once he was finished, you were practically asleep. He took the moment to look you over in curiosity. There was a small tug at his heartstrings, it was small…but still there. He could bring you to the nearest island, but a large part of him wanted to continue to check on you. Make sure you’re recovering well. It was a brief moment of hesitation, before he started moving the raft to his island. Once you were healed completely, he would bring you back to your island or one of your choosing. That’s what he told himself at least.

Once you were asleep, he gently lifted you, and sat down on the seat. He cradled you to him, with one arm under your back and the other your knees. Your fears and worries of the events must have scared you terribly, he concluded. You softly cried in your sleep, as you unknowingly nuzzled your face into his neck. All Mihawk could do was hold you closer, as he whispered “You’re safe, now.” Over and over again until the tears stopped.

You ended up stirring awake not long later. Your eyes opened before you moved anything, and you instantly shot up, only to be held down with arms much stronger than yours. The first thing you wanted to see after passing out, traumatized for life, was…well not this. Mihawk’s practically glowing yellow eyes staring down at you. You were in his lap, being held like a damn princess. He had no shame, either. When you caught him staring he had the audacity to maintain that eye contact.

“Uh…I can get up now?” You wished you were shaking less, but you were being coddled by a warlord. “You can drop me off at the nearest island, so you should…do that.” It came out a lot less assertive than you meant for it to, but you didn’t want to walk on eggshells. If he wanted, he could throw you into the ocean never to be seen again. Or even worse, cut you down, himself. If he can slice an entire ship in half without even trying…you didn’t want to think about what he could do to you.

“No.” It was so matter-of-fact that it caught you completely off guard. He continued to look at you, analyzing everything on your face. “Your wounds need to heal, my island is closest.” It was a lie, but you had no way of knowing that. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he lied. He gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, but it came across as a warning.

“Okay…?” You were beyond confused at this point, and his short responses weren’t helping that. It just made it so much worse. But you were terrified, despite trying to appear as if you weren’t. So you settled as much as you could, and tried to put as much distance as possible while still being secured in his lap. Whatever his plan here was, he sure wasn’t going to talk about it. You tried to take the initiative, and said a small “Thank you for saving me.”

It was all he needed to hear, and he looked a bit surprised. It wasn’t much, just a slight twitch in his eyebrows at most, and his eyes got just slightly wider. But he did his best to try and give a small. He wasn’t used to it, but he could see how scared you were. The smile was forced, but his eyes continued to not reveal anything. Maybe a small trace of contentment? You didn’t know him enough to be able to tell.

Arriving at the island took at least another hour past that, but being out in the middle of the ocean made it hard to tell exactly what time it was. As the raft hit the shore line, you went to stand up and get off him, but he effortlessly kept you in place. “What? I can walk, you know!” Another attempt to get out of his grasp, was futile at best. You looked up at him with the best glare you could manage but it looked as shaky as you felt.

“Not safely.” He shifted you a bit, carrying you with a single arm as he poked your ankle. It made you hiss, and he lifted an eyebrow in a ‘see?’ display. “You’re injured, I’m simply helping you.” He then shifted you a bit more to try and get you comfortable but it jostled you enough you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck with a small noise of protest. Your face was buried in his neck as you tried not to fall.

If you could have seen his face, it would have been the biggest reaction you’d seen of him yet. His eyes were wide, and he paused for a moment, before giving a much more genuine smile. You reminded him of a child. He wasn’t sure exactly how old you were, but he would get to know. He cradled you with both arms, trying to return his facial expression to neutral. “Shh…it’s okay. I’d never drop you. You’re safe.” Even the tone had a twinge on sincerity.

You gulped, and did everything you could to not fight against his grasp. It was difficult, you weren’t used to this kind of treatment anymore. It had been a long time since someone carried you like this…maybe you could indulge just this once. Besides, he made a point. Your ankle wasn’t in the best condition. You shuddered thinking about how bad it could be. If it hurt that bad from just a poke, what if you needed a real doctor? What if it got infected?

Though Mihawk wasn’t great at empathizing, he could tell you were panicking. He shushed you softly, and carefully brought you to a spare room in his home. It was fully furnished, with anything you’d reasonably need. Even some things you didn’t NEED but could want. He spoke to you softly, and it was giving you whiplash. The warlord who can end a person’s life with just a glance was treating you with kindness and even being accommodating. It was confusing you beyond measure.

“Your house is huge…” Was the first thing you mumbled back at him as he eased the door closed with his foot. He walked over to the bed, and rested you on it. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of it, but when you were resting on the bed you couldn’t help it. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on in my life!” You let out a small giggle and got comfortable as you could with your injuries. “Is it…really okay if I stay here? I don’t wanna cause any trouble! The second I’m feeling better I promise I’ll get out of your hair!” You had realized you’d been a little too giddy, and didn’t want him to feel as if you were milking your injury.

But he did give a rather large smile. Large smile for him at least. In response to your giggling, he let out a low chuckle. Hearing it was somewhat soothing, and the look in his eyes was something close to adoration. You think. It was so hard to tell with him…but regardless, he replied. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. As for the bed, it’s yours if you’d like it. I can always get you a new and better one. Money is no issue.” He pulled the chair from the desk over to where you laid on the bed, and took a glance at the small amounts of blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d given.

He hummed, and walked to the bathroom, only to return with a first aid kit. “I’ll check them over, and then I can give you a better estimate on when you’ll be safe to walk again.” He slowly unwrapped each of the bandages, and worked slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you. He hummed a couple times, and you’d look between him and the injury.

“What? ‘Hm’ what?” You got anxious, he was staring so intently at the bleeding. “Is it bad? What does ‘hm’ mean!?” It was getting hard to stay still, and when you tried to pull your leg away, he grabbed an uninjured part of it and kept it secured in place.

“Be careful…a couple of these are going to need stitches. Which means no walking for around four weeks or so I’d say.” He looked at you a bit sympathetically, and pulled out the needle prepared to give you the stitches needed. “I apologize…it will hurt a bit, but I’ll make it as painless as possible. I promise.” The look in his eyes held some deeper meaning, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

“Four whole weeks…of not walking…? Shit…I’m not going to burden or bother you or anything, right? I mean, not even just you but also. Wait, how many people live here?” You shifted a bit, and winced at the movement from your ankle. “And I’m bleeding on your bed sheets! I’m sorry! Just a few stitches and then I can go to a different island, I can see a doctor, It’ll-” He cut you off promptly with a look and short phrase.

“You’re staying. I can help you, here. If you need to go anywhere in the mansion, I can carry you until you’re better enough to walk with me as a crutch.” His tone wasn’t quite harsh, but assertive. He addressed your question next, “As for how many live here. Just…two.” It seemed like he came to a conclusion of some kind, and smiled a bit to himself before smiling at you. “It’s safe here. No one should dare harm you under my care.”

Rather it be for better or for worse, he had decided. You’d be staying with him indefinitely. You would come to realize that in time, but for the moment you were clueless. Simply settled on bed rest for a few weeks, you fell back asleep immediately following getting stitches. It really was a comfy bed, it’d be easier to have bed rest in this kind of comfort. If Mihawk seemed sure no one would hurt you…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? He was a warlord afterall, so you doubted many would even do so much as attempt to harm you.

You thought it would be easy, you really did. But he hardly ever left you alone! It was somewhat expected the first day or two, but a three and a half weeks? Of just laying in bed without being able to even stand up and walk? It was suffocating! He had asked a million questions, about everything to do with you. He didn’t even ask about your family, your friends, did he not care? He seemed content to have you talk about yourself though. Your responses were getting shorter, and he definitely noticed, but didn’t say much of anything about it. Simply continued with the small talk and questions.

“Do you have a favorite restaurant back on your home island?” He’d ask.

“Not really.”

“Did you have any childhood pets?”

“A couple.”

“Is there a dream job you have?”

“Haven’t decided.”

“What island have you heard of that you want to visit?”

You reached your breaking point. So many questions, and even when you slept! He’d be in that chair in the corner most of the time. You didn’t know what his endgame here was, but you were sick of being grilled about anything and everything. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP WITH THE QUESTIONS?” A glare was sent his way from you, but it faltered significantly when it was met with a glare right back at you. It wasn’t much, but it was the most anger you’d seen from him.

“I’ll give you some space.” His expression was neutral once more, and he stood to leave, only to stop in the doorway. He seemed to hesitate there, and he turned back to partially face you. “I expect an apology for your tone. Screaming at me gets you nowhere.” He turned back but ended up deciding to say one more thing before fully leaving. It was a softer tone, as he said “I don’t wish for you to scream at me, I despise it so.” Before leaving the room entirely.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Did you…really just scream at a warlord? He took you into his home, cared for you, tended to you, and even carried you to the dining table for three meals a day! You watched him cook for you numerous times, but you still yelled at him? It’s not like he did anything wrong…he just wanted to get to know you. That’s all…right? You flopped over in the bed, and pulled the covers over your head. Beating yourself up won’t solve anything, but maybe some sleep would.

You woke up not long after, extremely confused. The injury on your ankle…it wasn’t hurting. A little bit maybe, but not bad at all. What made you notice it, was your other foot had found a spot on top of the injured one in your sleep. It made you giddy beyond reason, thinking maybe it was almost completely better, and you could finally walk around! Maybe then you could go back to your home island, you missed everyone…and you were sure they were worried. You had been talking about running off to another island, so it might not be surprising you disappeared for a while, but you hadn’t even been able to write to them.

Placing your good foot on the ground gently, you took a few deep breaths and placed the other one on the ground. You were bracing yourself, getting ready to stand up. It had been a whole week and a half, but if you bursted the stitches open it would be so much worse. Mihawk might get pissed at you…and you valued your life. He’s been kind for the most part, overly kind in fact, but he seemed focused on your progress in getting better. Putting a set back on that might make him explode and you didn’t want that. At all.

You swayed between all the options, before taking one more deep breath and putting weight slowly on your ankles, being sure to favor the good one the most first. When that was fine, you put a little more on the other foot. After a bit, you were able to stand evenly on them both. You wanted to jump in joy, but you weren’t about to push the boundaries. After the little snap at Mihawk, you decided the best course of action would be to leave and head back to your island while he was gone. You’d overstayed your welcome, and now that you could somewhat walk again, it was time to go.

It took a bit of practice to walk around the room, but you figured you’d rather start off with some small pacing, before making the long trek from the mansion to the shore. It wasn’t long into your pacing when you heard a knock at your door. Shit…so leaving without a trace wasn’t an option. But you were excited, you’d get to see everyone again. Maybe he’d show you where the rafts and boats were!

“Darling? Are you alright?” He called, his tone laced with worry. “May I come in? We need to have a discussion.” Those words made you hesitate a bit, it sounded serious. Maybe he knew you were feeling better, and decided to talk to you about returning home? It was all you could hope for. There were certainly much worse possibilities running through your mind.

“Sure…” You were curious, but ended up continuing to pace even as he entered the room. “Look! I’m feeling so much better!” You made a demonstration of walking around the room. When you looked back at him, he looked conflicted. Like he also had many possibilities running through his head. It stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to walk closer, but hesitated.

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’re recovering well.” He turned to the side and came in with a tray. It had a few different kinds of food on it. “You never specified your favorite restaurant, so I attempted a few different types of food.” He walked to your bedside table and set it down. “Come eat. We can discuss a few things.” He said as he sat on the foot of the bed, before patting your spot to signal you to sit again.

“I actually…wanted to ask you something.” You said hesitantly, and followed the instructions to sit by the bedside table. When you didn’t touch the food, he knew something was wrong. “Would I be able to have a small boat? Or a raft even! I could make my way back home, I’ve been here for so long now at this point…It’s time for me to go home. But thank you! For everything. You didn’t have to save me but you did and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You fidgeted with your hands, and avoided looking directly at him. While he’d been soft and kind to you, his power and authority still caused anxieties of what could happen.

“Darling…” He scooted a bit closer and urged you to look at him. “You ARE home. You’re to live here, with me. I’ve given you anything you’ve wanted, why would you want to leave?” The word ‘me’ hangs in the air at the end of the sentence as he hesitated before saying the next sentence. “Have I done something wrong? Whatever it may be, I can do my best to fix it.”

“No! There’s nothing you’ve done wrong, but I can’t just live here with you! I have friends I need to see, and my mom and dad-” That word shouldn’t have made him react that way…but it did. It made your sentence cut off on its own. His eyes were glowing more than usual, and his face was contorted with anger. He looked away and seemed to struggle with his own words as they came out.

“I’m your father. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t known you since your birth, I care for you greatly. All of our conversations, I know I can be a better father to you than whatever the ‘man’ before me ever was.” He was getting closer now, and you were trying to retreat but he wasn’t having it. He looked over your face, and still saw fear. “Don’t worry, I know it must be confusing for you.” He chuckled a bit, but it was far from comforting as it was the first you’d heard it.

“You don’t have to be ready to call me your father right now, but we’ll get there. As for your friends, I can find new ones for you. I will make sure they’re safe people.” He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I would give you anything, darling…so I do hope you’ll be able to forgive me for keeping you here. You mean too much to me for me to let you go. If I were to do so, you could get hurt. Emotionally, mentally…and even physically. Those pirates deserved a fate much worse than I gave them.”

“You’ll give me anything? THEN GIVE ME A BOAT TO GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T JUST ACT LIKE YOU CAN REPLACE EVERYTHING I HAD!” You were pissed, but this time you wouldn’t back down. Your anxieties and fears wanted you to, but Mihawk was saying you’d never get to see them again! As if people were replaceable! You leaned forward as you yelled and got closer to him, you flung the blankets off and tried to walk towards the door. “IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THAT THEN I’LL FIGURE OUT HOW TO LEAVE, MYSELF!”

You heard a sigh behind you, and as you went to open the door he was already next to it, shutting it and preventing you from leaving. His speed was much faster than yours, and you already knew well that his strength was too. You took a step back, and became fearful of his expression. It wasn’t angry, in fact it was back to the blank and neutral expression he had when you first met him. He’d put up the walls he’d slowly been taking down.

He reached forward, and you flinched but he also wasn’t giving in this time. He placed a finger under your chin and tilted it so you looked at him directly. “Look at me, please?” He held your head there until your eyes met his. “There she is…my dear daughter.” He sighed, and when you opened your mouth to yell at him again, he sighed once more. “Please stop screaming at me, love. You know I hate it.” He grabbed your arms and moved you carefully, but firmly back to the bed.

“YOU CAN’T-” But his neutral expression was scaring you more, and you found yourself unable to finish the sentence. There was so much you wanted to scream at him, the overflowing emotion was building up so much that tears started to fall down your face. “I’m not your daughter…” Was all you could spat at him angrily as he forced you further into the room. No matter how much you thrashed, you couldn’t hurt him. And he knew that. You both did. But you had to try…

“You are. I know you are. I knew the moment I saw you. Take your time, love. You can call for me when you need me, but for now I think you need to learn a lesson.” He spoke softly at first, before his tone became much more firm. You really…really didn’t want to know what he meant. But it became clear in the seconds following.

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, before the door seemed to open and close instantly. He was gone. You should have known it’d be locked, but what you didn’t expect was just how sturdy the door was. When you banged on it, screaming for him to let you out, it didn’t budge in the slightest. Not even a small tremor from the strengths of your blow. That bastard must have planned this…was this his plan all along?

Only time would tell, but no matter how many times you had to do it…you’d try to escape. He can’t keep you here forever. He can’t…and he won’t. You’re resolved, knowing you’d go to further and further lengths to get out of here. You would return home…to your real home…no matter the cost.

#reader insert #platonic! yandere! mihawk #yandere one piece & reader #& reader #fem reader #commission #writing commission #tw; injury #tw; switches

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wren-dy-flowergarden · 9 months

Note

Salutations!

So... um... I'm kind of sick and am in desperate need of Sebek Zigvolt fluff.

How about a Fem!Reader who takes care of Sebek when he's sick, please?

I've read your other works and I absolutely love them 🫶🫶

*ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴ A/N: HIHI! Im crying' over here Im so happy you read my other works too even though they aren't twst fandom. I just love writing. ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. Ya know I was just going to make it head cannons but here is a whole ass story cause it's super late and I could not stop on this one while writing it. I really hope that the characterization is right, I don't know that much about Sebek. BUT I hope you enjoy and thank you for being my very first request! ✧.*✦ *.✧.* *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴Sebek x f!Reader *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴Word Conunt: 2.3k <- yes 2k more so pls enjoy *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴ Tags: sickies in bed, indirect kissing, ungodly thoughts and confused feelings, slightly hidden fluff, in denial about feelings

───────────✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ ───────────────

The moment there is enough peace on campus to hear your inner thoughts you know something was out of place.

The first couple of periods rushed through with mild amusement. Grim snoring on your left and occasionally a new note would come from Ace across from you making comments about how 'boring' the lecture is.

The usual, but someone was missing in your day.

Next, lunch went with a suspicious calm. No major fights, a couple forkfuls of food splattered in glory across the table from missing its targets, casual conversation, and nothing more.

Usually, lunch is more...

Noisy?

You couldn't find the answers until you saw Lillia who taps your shoulder out of your daydreams. You let out a small gasp waking up to reality, "Lilia! Don't do that- you scared me half to death."

A small fang pokes out of his smile, "Why I'm only here to deliver a message." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, "The small one Sebek is out with a cold right now. Tucked right into bed."

It was like a lightbulb going off. The boisterous energy that would usually interject into your day leading to ridiculous jabs at each other, Sebek, was missing.

No wonder you felt so off.

"He wouldn't keep quiet when I told him to rest. Saying things quite out of place-" he leans closer to you whispering into your ear in a small voice, "' Where is she? Where is (Y/N)?'"

You can feel the tips of your ears burn but you hope your face doesn't give anything away as Lillia breaks away a little happy smile on his face, "Why it seems he is quite fond of you."

Before you could even retort he quips in, "He's up on the second floor at the dorm. Passed out after I cooked him my famous soup!" He waves walking down the hallway, "Keep well!"

He disappears around a corner and you take a deep breath. Sebek sounds delusional, and you can imagine it has to do with something he ate, especially since Lillia cooked it up.

You hear the warning bell and you scamper off to class.

Later today you give him a visit…

Just to make sure he was alright.

Wallet slightly lighter and a fresh chicken noodle soup you step into Diatom's lounge. You're thankful there is barely anyone here right after school, you are even more thankful Jade didn't even bat an eye when you asked for the rushed order before the kitchen was even open. In fact, he just smiled…calmly…

There was more to dissect on that another day.

Winding up the stairwell, you come to a hallway filled with similar wooden doors all facing one direction. The only difference was a small name plate etched into each forehead of the door. The back of your heel clicked down the cobblestone.

"Sebek, Sebek- ah there, Zigvolt."

A knock for life, you hear a groan like one of those zombies in the movies.

"Hey Sebek we uh-" you think about your words before they spill out how much today actually felt off without him, "I heard you were sick!"

You joke raising the bag of soup up as he could see through the door, "I brought you something a little 'better' than Lilia's cooking!" It was more to test how healthy Sebek was and you did not even hear a response.

Wow, he really must be dying.

You crack the door open peeking your head through. Clumps of tissues were littered on the floor along with some plastic bottles and a different assortment of cups and medicine on his nightstand. What you could assume is a mound of a person was huddled into a little ball underneath the sheets.

You walked through carefully avoiding the snot-filled tissues on the ground, "Sebek, hey. How are you feeling?" You tug the edge of the sheet just to let him know there is a healthy presence of life here, "I brought some soup. Really cost me an arm and a leg (yet),"

A shift of the blanked and another groan escapes him, full of snot he lets out a sneeze. He shifts his body to barely peeking out of the blankets, "You cough you're here?" He says it with no bite, but more of wonderment.

It makes your heart melt just a little.

The two of you have been playing this game recently… where he would make an effort to find you and "train mentally" against you. For what training, you still never understood, but it is a usual constant 'noisy' flow of Sebek. Sometimes he brings you extra lunch saying his enemy couldn't give him an easy win when you weren't having a good day. Other times, he might come to do his homework prideful when gets a question right before you and indignant when you need to teach it to him.

…It was obvious you were playing a game. The shy looks went as you both glance over each other, the constant quarrels that you two would get into and it would slowly fade to each other's company. It was even apparent to Silver, yes Silver that you two have been dancing around each other's toes! He said, 'You two are like the old couples in the valley.'

No, you weren't, this development was by Sebek only! It had nothing to do with you and you became a little closed off and a little more cold and you ignored what was hurt on Sebek's face because how could you recognize that emotion if you did not know him well.

A creak breaks you from your daydreams, "(Y/N)…how cough a human like you is going to get sick." You give a soft laugh sitting by the edge of the bed, "Well, it's pretty incredible you're this sick with your genetics, though maybe it's a blessing that I am human- got to have a better immune system than you."

A gaggle of annoyance, "Not- cough true. You're really cough weak."

You roll your eyes, "Obviously since I'm sick in bed right now. Here you should eat." You step near the nightstand to make some room for the bag gently cracking the tape around the lid of the soup. It smells fantastic.

"Here sit up so you can eat."

He doesn't move or at least maybe he tried to because you hear a grunt. What a baby. You place the soup on the nightstand and reach for the covers of his bed pulling it just to be met by resistance.

"Sebek, come on you have to eat."

"I- no hack la-later would be fine."

"But it's going to get cold!"

"Its! It's fine! I cough like it cold…?"

What a liar. He may be able to lift eight chairs but you have the power of surprise on your side. Your hold lessens on the sheets.

"Alright…then I'll come back later."

He relaxes underneath the sheets, "…really?"

Your grip tightens against the sheets again, "Pshhh NO!"

Sheets wave in the air with also a couple of tissues and oh no was that his phone? It's alright though because you won this one and you look down to hopefully see indignation on Sebek's face but…he's- oh completely naked from the top up.

Strongly lined abs with traces of sweat falling down the lines of etched muscles, the way his pecs were peaking due to the sudden rush of cold air, and his collars dipped nicely really painting the picture of a perfect man. Your eyes meet with Sebek's and he has red forming around the edge of his face from the fever! It's the fever…

The sheets slowly cascade down and messily cover his perfect body his shoulders and head now peeking through.

Was it hotter in here your throat feels more dry as you chide him in fake authority, "You- you should really sit up and eat." You glance at the soup the steam still leaking out, "I'll help you!"

It's only a ten-second break to calm your thumping heart as you balance the soup in your hands reaching for a spoon inside the remnant of the bag. You face back and Sebek is now sitting up slightly against the headboard, sheets tucked in like a modest princess above his chest, the face still red.

You make a place facing him, he won't meet your eyes and to be honest, you really can't meet his. But it's not like you haven't seen guys at the beach before, or even at home when it was too hot of a day. The soup swirls in its paper-like container as you lift the spoon up.

"Here say ah."

He doesn't, mouth still shut, ears tingling red. You knew this look it was when you got the question right first when you won.

But that really didn't matter right now.

You lower the spoon, "Alright. Fine. I'm sorry I took your sheets from you." You don't think about how hot he is and continue on, "It's really yummy soup though. I think that you should have some."

To prove your point you blow on a spoonful and dip it into your own mouth, you try not to think of why his eyes won't leave the spoon. It pops out of your mouth, "See better than Lilias."

His eyes furrowed, "You- you can't say anything about cough Lilia-sama." He nodded towards a half-empty bowl on the nightstand, "See! His food is hack delicious." He really must be delirious because the bowl is caked on black with thick goo hardening in it. You don't fight him though, because this is the first real response you got out of him.

You nod, "Yes yes, then you should be able to finish this too?" Another dip into the mixture, "Say ah."

He looks so reluctant like a cat being sprayed with water, but slowly he opens his mouth, "..ah"

You place the spoon in his mouth and you see the way his teeth are a little sharper than yours clink on the spoon, mouth closing around it before a little pop as you pull out.

Your ears start heating as well, you hope you're not getting sick also.

It's almost done when you can touch the bottom of the soup bowl and Sebek has been quite well-behaved the past couple minutes. After the last bite, you pack the trash and a couple of the tissues are littered around in the bad crinkling it shut.

The air was tight.

"I…I should get going." You try to find any excuse to get out, "Grim- he um- need to be fed! Yeah, so I should go back to Ramshackle."

Sebek knew you well enough to hear a shifty excuse so you believed that was the reason he grabs your hand before you can leave, "Wai- Wait!" he hacks into his other arms elbow, "I want- I-." He takes a deep breath his voice becoming less choppy, "They say I need to say "sincerities" when it's my loss…so cough for a small human like yourself coming here I- hack thank you…"

It's the first thank you he has ever given you and you feel this is more than just a 'thanks for taking care of me'. It felt more about the two of you. In truth and honesty, you were the ones who took the first step away from him, even though you may have something more akin to 'feelings' than the general source of friendship you have with your other friends.

You needed to take the first step.

You gave a small smile, "Oh, the great Sebek is thanking a 'small human' like me." You walk up to his bedside, him still sitting in the same position as before. You're close as you lean down only inches away, "Well then, you're welcome Sebek."

You give a small kiss, right on the side of his cheek, just a peck before Sebek has time to process in his foggy brain.

You are already out the door the time you hear a loud holler from his bedroom. Your face was burning red but it felt nice to finally start exploring these feelings.

A couple days later and Sebek was back in action.

Though, he was with you almost 24/7. Even in the evening, he stayed for extra study lessons, more than usual. It went on like that for a couple weeks.

Of course, you are a little slow to the advances of Sebek and it took Lilia (again) to really make the pieces fall in order. It was just a casual conversation

"I'm glad the dear is a little more open about you, why he was such in denial that he even made the excuse to see you as "mental training"!" Lilia laughs and you do your best to add on the conversation.

"Well he's getting better at math now so maybe he will be teaching me about potions soon."

Lillia laughs even harder now at your response and you tut, potions were difficult alright? He seems to read your face with the knowledge of a sage and wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye, "No you are mistaken dear. He said something across the lines, 'My heart keeps thumping around (Y/N) and I need to fix it!'." He grins, "Why he was such a cutie saying that, so in denial back then- you ask well."

Your face is flush, cheeks a rosy red. And comedic timing comes when you least expect it because Sebek is racing down the halls toward the two of you. He grips your face between gloved hands, your face squished together, "Your face is evenly red… ARE YOU SICK!?"

Your words are muffled together, "Nomhrooo mmmmh fhhine Sebrekkk!" You pull his hands away from you, "I'm fine!"

Lillia looks completely amused by this and just has to open his mouth, "Why Sebek, (Y/N) was just telling me how she felt a little under the weather today."

"What no! I'm fine Sebek, really."

He doesn't believe you of course and that day you're carried in his arms to the infirmary him muttering how a pitiful human like you should be more careful all through a crowded hallway.

God, what were you going to do with the both of you?

#.wwrenwrites #twst x reader #twst x you #twst wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #reader insert #requests are open #I probably won't write this long for a request again but it was nice to try and do character writing hehe.

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thebestofoneshots · 5 months

Note

My mate went off on me because I don’t know who Bucky Barnes (did I even spell that right?) is because I don’t like Marvel. The thing is I couldn’t really tell her “oh I do know who he is, I read smut/regular fics about him on Tumblr”…

Anyway, now I’m obsessed with a fictional character I know nothing cannonically about -🫎

Oh you’ve come to the right person. Allow me to educate you on canon.

His name is James Buchanan Barnes, nicknamed Bucky by his best friend in the whole wide world Steve Rogers (that’s Captain America). But we also call him Winter Soldier, Bucky Bear, babe, or one of Lily’s husbands in the Marvel Universe

What’s his story though? Easy peasy. It’s the 1940s he’s besties with Steve, back when he still looked like a twink, and gets drafted to fight in WWII (tho he pretends he enlisted)

That’s him back then. Yeah, we know. How could you not? Also, he’s played by Sebastian Stan, who is an absolute fluffball of a human being.

Anyway, Bucky gets drafted and then we see Steve’s story where he basically just becomes Captain America.

But then, and this is what the interesting stuff happens, Steve gets sent to a camp to cheer up the soldiers like he’s been cheering up the people, and then he finds out that the 107th Infantry Regiment (Bucky’s Unit) was captured by the German army, so he goes (against orders) to search for him.

After a lot of badass Captain America scenes we finally see our baby again. But oh no! He was tortured by Hydra and they clearly did something to him, we don’t know what.

So, Steve makes friends and they form a team Called the Howling Commandos, and they do a lot of badass things, helping the US army win WWII. In one of those missions, there’s a train.

Oh no the train.

Basically, cool fight scenes and all, Bucky falls off the fucking train on a heart wrenching moment.

And then… we don’t see him again until…

But, and this is a good question, HOW DID WE GET TO THAT?

Well, Bucky falls, hydra rescues him bc he’s alive (it’s the super soldier serum they injected on him while they tortured him), also, that’s when he loses his left arm.

They torture him for years:

Fry his brain so he doesn’t remember Steve and also add a little code so they can control his mind.

That’s how our beautiful and sweet Bucky Barnes becomes THE WINTER SOLDIER

Who is he tho? Basically, Hydra’s trained little weapon that does whatever they ask him to do. But it’s okay, eventually, he starts remembering who he is, and there’s a huge drama with this because Tony Stark (Iron Man) finds out Bucky killed his parents (it wasn’t Bucky it was The Winter Soldier) and gets all mad and pissy about it and wants to unalive poor Bucky.

But Steve thankfully defends Bucky and they escape together to Wakanda, with black panther. There Bucky gets frosted, also he looses his arm because of the fight.

Then he’s defrosted and the Wakanda people get him to get rid of the mind control codes put in by Hydra and this incredible scene happens

They also give him a new metal arm (this one’s black and gold)

And then my boy has to go to therapy (literally forced by the law)

Also he cut his hair too hehe.

I feel like I’ve summed up cannon Bucky pretty well so far. Of course, there’s a lot of emotional trauma and other plot points that I left out, but next time someone askes you about Bucky, you’ll know.

Also, I used to write almost exclusively for him, so the obsession is pretty heavy still, Bucky baby I still love you, I have not forgotten you my dear (my like 10 funko pops of you literally prove this)

Read Bucky Fanfics here

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky x oc #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky one shot #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes

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cheesemittens · 1 year

Note

Hai! I saw that you were taking fic requests and if it's ok with you I was hoping you could write one for Tangerine? Where reader is working w/ the twins for years now and is oblivious to all of Tangerines advances to her bcuz she doesn't really think he likes her. Come to the event where they're on the bullet train and they're trying to do their mission but everything went to shit. So Tan leaves Lem and Reader to wait while he tries to find Ladybug and there comes a chance where Lemon tells her himself about Tans feelings and advances and how oblivious she was and she becomes in denial

And that hopefully in the end, after she got shot in like the shoulder by saving Tan from almost being shot by Ladybug she sees how Tan reacts and she goes "oh shit Lemon was fr not bullshiting" and at the end they get out the train safely and no one dies and have a very real, and cannon happy ending 💕💕

OMG, YESS!!! Thank you so much for the request! I'm so sorry it took so long- BUT- I had a lot of fun writing this and I really hope I did your suggestion justice😭 Word Count: 1656 Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Violence (nothing that doesn't happen in the movie), Fluff, a bit of angst(?), Reader & Tan being obvious, pet names (love), Totally cannon ending where Tan is alive, happy, and healthy, Reader gets hurt :(, allusions to smut? Over all Lemon being fed up with Tan and you exchanging goo-goo eyes and not acting on it <3. I don't think I followed the events in order so- bear with me heh <3 NO USE OF Y/N!! NOT PROOF READ! MAY CONTAIN TYPOS! Send me a request!

You have been working with the two brothers, Lemon and Tangerine, for a while now. Picking up odd jobs. Whatever pays the most. And even though these two could get on your nerves, you enjoyed your time with them. They never once made you feel different. Never told you, you couldn't do something because it was 'too dangerous for a woman'.

Well, that was true until recently. You see, Tangerine has slowly become more aware of every mission's danger. Sure he knew you could handle yourself. He knew that you wouldn't get hurt. But he didn't want to risk it. So naturally when he took this job for the White Death, he was against you coming.

Yet here you are. Sitting by the window, next to a semi-pissed Tan.

It all started when you insisted to join. Saying how you've sat out the last 2 missions, and you weren't going to miss another. Then, Lemon lost the briefcase. After that, you three find the White Death's son dead. The Cherry on top was they (White Death) knew you lot didn't have the case.

"Alright, I'm gonna go find this prick and teach him a lesson. You two stay here, yeah?" You heard Tan speak up, making you look over at him. "But I wa-" "Ah ah- No buts. You're staying here." He said firmly before getting up and walking off

You sighed as you watched Tangerine walk off. Lemon watched him as well before fixating his gaze on you.

"You know he likes you, right?"

"What..?" Surely you didn't hear that right. Or you must be dreaming. Because you thought there was no way in hell that someone as hot as Tan could ever like you back.

"Did you go deaf or somethin'? I said my brother likes you. It's painfully obvious." Even when he repeated it, you looked at Lemon like he had two heads. "I-I think you're mistaken.. There's no way he likes me.." Lemon just rolled his eyes. "Look, I wouldn't lie to ya' about this. I see the way you look at my brother. You clearly fancy him a lot. And he feels the same. I mean, it's painfully obvious to everyone else. He's told you how many pickup lines since we got on this train? And how many through our whole time together? And don't even get me started on the looks you two give each other when the other is turned!"

"I-.. I thought he was just being friendly.." You mumbled, still in denial. You refused to think someone who seemed so out of your league liked you. "Yeah? Well, he wasn't. He's been trying to rack up the nerve to ask you out like a proper gentleman, but every time he asks, you're off in your own world."

You shook your head firmly, looking out of the window. "Would you stop being such a stubborn priss and just open your eyes? You two fancy each other! Just confess and move on. If I have to sit through another mission filled with romantic and sexual tension I might just quit."

You continued to talk to Lemon, arguing over if Tan likes you back or not before transitioning to a more tame conversation. Though your mind kept wandering back to what he said. You couldn't help but wonder if you were in the wrong about it.

It had been a while since you got separated from Lemon. You were worried, alone, and in all honesty? Scared. You didn't feel safe without being with one of the twins. Preferably Tan over Lem. But you wouldn't mind Lem.

You walked around the eerily empty train before finding an open bathroom, your eyes widening as you saw a bloodied Lemon. Quickly you knelt to his level and checked for a pulse, luckily finding one. You examined him more and saw Tan's necklace around him. Of course he'd jump the gun and think the worst.

You quickly got up, running through the train to find him. You bumped into another girl on your way down. You gave her a skeptical look. "Watch where you're going!" She yelled at you as she continued on.

You couldn't help but scrunch up your nose in disgust. You could barely notice a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker on her back. Diesel. So that's who drugged Lem.

You made a mental note to find her later, no doubt she thought Lem was dead so you didn't have to worry for now. Continuing down the train. Eventually, you saw him, saw your Tan fighting another guy. They didn't see you yet. So you tried to quietly sneak up on the other one. But when you saw him reach for the gun, it was game over.

You ran as fast as you could and pushed Tan out of the way right when the gun fired, not even feeling the pain in your shoulder when it was done with.

It was like time was going in slow motion for Tan. One minute he was fighting this Ladybug guy, then the next everything was going significantly slower, watching you run towards him and push him away. He had to blink a few times before landing on his ass with a groan, looking up at you and watching a bright red liquid start to stain your white shirt.

If his eyes could change colors, they would be bright red, staring at the man with the gun who was behind you, not even giving him a second to get out the words "I'm sorry" before he had him up against the wall.

"First, you come in here while I was about to kill the bloody Diesel, then you try to kill me, not believing me when I said that she's trying to make us all kill each other. And then! The fuckin' cherry on top, you try to kill me. But you shoot my partner instead. You hurt an innocent lady. A fuckin' goddess.."

He was growling at the other man, finally the pain of the bullet settling in. You winced in pain and fell to the floor, grabbing your shoulder to try and stop some of the bleeding.

Tan paused hearing you, looking over and quickly dropping the man to run to your side. "Are you okay love..?" He asked, his expression softened when he looked at you, taking off his shirt to wrap around your shoulder to help stop the bleeding.

You couldn't help but stare as he took it off, your eyes moving from his abs to his eyes as he wrapped up your shoulder. So Lem was telling the truth. Tan really did love you. It was as clear as day to you now. The way he looked at you, how you were the most beautiful person alive. The way he spoke, how he immediately softened when he saw you. Everything he did showed his love for you.

"Hello? I asked if you were okay?" He repeated, waving a hand in front of your face. That seemed to snap you out of your trance, blinking a few times before you looked at him, smiling softly.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, not caring how much the wound hurt from this. "Th-Thank you, Tan.. I mean it.." You spoke softly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Partly from the pain, partly because you were just so happy.

Tan was beyond confused, but hugged you back, smiling softly as he took in your sweet scent. "You don't need to thank me, love.. It's the least I can do.." He hummed, wanting this moment to last forever but, you eventually pulled away, looking into his eyes.

"Did.. Did you really mean what you said about me..? A-About me being a... a goddess..?" You asked, your voice shaking a bit. You hoped he'd say yes, hoping that he truly meant it so you could confess.

"Of course I did.. You're beautiful.. Stunning.. Fuck- Words can't des-"

You didn't let him finish, quickly pulling him into a kiss. He was surprised but quickly melted into it, kissing you back as his hands found their way into your hair, entangling with your soft locks.

By this point Ladybug had read the room and left while he still had his life, knowing that as soon as Tan could, he'd kill him.

The two of you never wanted to pull away, kissing for as long as your breaths would allow before having to pull away. "I-.. I really like you Tan.. Liked you for a while now.." You shyly admitted, panting softly as you tried to regain your breath. "I like you too.. So so much.." He hummed, smiling at you lovingly as he cupped your face.

"Fuckin' finally! I was worried I'd actually have to quit." Lemon's voice could be heard from the doorway making the both of you chuckle. "Jesus Lem.. You're alive?" Tan looked over at him, for the first time breaking eye contact with you. "Yeah. Someone drugged the water I drank. Did you not check my pulse?"

Tan looked away shyly, slightly embarrassed he jumped the gun. "To play devil's advocate, you do have a shit ton of blood on you Lem." You hummed, trying to defend Tan. Lemon just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just get off the train at the next stop, yeah?

All of you agreed and the train came to a stop not long after. All of you exited and no one was seriously harmed! Well, besides you. After a quick trip to the ER to get the bullet removed, and the wound sewn up, you all retreated back to your separate hotel rooms. Little would Lemon know (that's a like he totally knew), Tan would sneak out of their room to go into yours just to make sure you're okay. But what ended up happening instead was more than fine as well.

#bullet train tangerine #tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #lemon bullet train #lady bug bullet train #bullet train #bullet train lemon #bullet train x reader #bullet train x y/n #tangerine bullet train #fluff #bullet train fluff #fan fiction #arron taylor johnson #arron talor johnson fan fiction

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toulousewayne · 7 months

Text

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 3

Even though has vigilantes they Batfam drive several different vehicles, most of them don’t have a license or got it late. Steph,Cass,Duke, and Damian don’t have licenses. Dick,Tim, and Barbara have licensed, Jason has a fake license due to the fact he and Bruce were supposed to declare him not dead but both have forgotten and he just gets Barbara to update it if it expires.

Speaking of cars I feel like those that can drive have favorite or one specific vehicle that use.

Bruce drives an all grey Lamborghini or a red Porsche.

Dick has a older Porsche in green.

Barbara had a yellow buggy when she was younger but now she has a black SUV.

Tim usually takes one of Bruce’s Mercedes.

Jason has two motorcycles and a older impala he fixed up in his spare time.

Damian likes to paint his sisters nails, he finds it calming. Stephanie is his favorite, Cass only likes her nails painted sometimes not all the time and Babs picks at her nails when she’s stressed. Stephanie let’s him pick the color and the just sit in his room while he paints.

Bruce has a large collection of alcohol but he himself doesn’t drink.

Alfred has a notebook with a contact for each family member in case they won’t listen to him or needs help. Bruce has Clark, Dick has Wally, Jason has Roy, Tim has Conner, Damian has Jon, and Barbara has Dinah. If plan A fails he’ll call plan B for any of them. Diana.

Tim has Hypoglycemia.

Dick has the most tattoos. It’s only five and their all small.

Bruce can’t stand the smell of gasoline it reminds him of when he lost Jason.

Alfred will order pizza once a month. One to give him a break and two because no eats the same pizza so he has order everyone their own whole pizza. It goes as followed.

Bruce doesn’t really like pizza that much but he eat what kind Alfred orders him, Dick is a Hawaii pizza Guy pineapple and all, Jason likes Buffalo chicken pizza, Tim likes pepperoni, Damian of course gets vegetarian, Duke what pepperoni and nothing else, Stephanie like plain cheese, Cass likes Pepperoni and and black olives, Barbara likes Supreme,and Alfred doesn’t like pizza he likes the cheesy garlic bread or flatbread pizza.

Personally I think of Jason has either half Latino and Italian or Puerto Rican, Tim has Korean American.

In that same vein, I see the Batfamily in this height range: Jason is 6’2-6’3, Bruce is 6’2,Alfred is 6’1, Duke is 6’0, Dick is 5’11, Barbara is 5’10, Stephanie and Cassandra are 5’9,Tim is 5’8, Damian is 5’5.

Also, we all know Tim is Bi,Selina is Bi and Kate is a lesbian. I see the other Bats as different sexual orientation as well. Dick is Pan, Jason is Asexual, Stephanie is Pan, Cass and Damian are both Aromatic, Duke is straight, and Barbara is Bicurious but is comfortable to enough to appreciate beautiful women. Bruce is Bi and just doesn’t know it yet.

Cass is very good a tending to different hairstyles and textures. She braids Babs,Steph and Dick’s hair. She’s also helps Damian and Bruce with their hair due to over styling it putting to much product in their hair. She also cuts Dick’s hair when it gets to long and greasy.

Duke is very good baking and his sweets are high on everyone’s lists like Alfred.

Stephanie definitely is the Big Sister Damian always needed. She pranks him, teases him about his crushes, but she also leaves her apartment window unlocked for Damian to enter at anytime of the night when he feels overwhelmed and doesn’t want to go to Bludhaven. She takes him to his favorite art supply store in Gotham Heights, and even gifts him stuff for his next project.

Tim is definitely the lost child of Dick and Barbara. Even though the two aren’t together and have different relationships(another head cannon), Tim is pretty much their child of divorce. They both have check his location to make sure he’s not trying to burn down LexCorp, or if he hasn’t left is room for three days straight Tim might find it strange that all tech disabled except for his phone but it’s reprogrammed to only call Barbara and only then will she fix it devices. Dick will just randomly enter Tim’s office at Wayne Enterprises and will mess with his stuff while Tim’s on a zoom meeting. And once he’s done he will ask Tim what’s their plans for lunch.

Selina and Talia both will make random trips to Wayne Manor to check on their children. Selina has threatened Bruce’s life numerous times for shouting at Dick or Duke. Bruce has woken up in the middle of the night to a dagger drawn to his throat he knows it’s Talia and all she says is, “Don’t make me have to have this talk again beloved, I’d hate for poor Alfred to have to clean up your room.”

Tim and Damian both hate mint chocolate chip ice cream. Cass finds it enjoyable and will help eat their portions if she needs to.

Duke taught Damian how to play Spades, and in return Damian taught him to paint so he could paint his girlfriend a gift for their anniversary.

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president-alpine · 2 years

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The Autobots make the Decepticons mailmen and instantly regret it

This is the Autotbot’s next attempt in putting the Decepticons through parole. But there is a bit of hesitation on their part.

Prowl: “Every time we try to put these idiots through parole, they screw it up!”

Wheeljack: “Librarians didn’t work, park rangers was a bust, what else can we do with them?”

Ultra Magnus: “Look, we’ve won the war and it’s our job to fix up loose ends. Maybe we haven’t found the right thing for them.”

Prowl: “They put a cave under a library!”

Ultra Magnus: "We weren't being tough on them! We need something so basic that it is idiot-proof."

Prowl: "What can that be?! There is nothing that they can't screw up!"

Ultra Magnus: "I have an idea; we'll make them mailmen. It's just bringing packages and mail from point A to point B. Sorting out the mail to the right place and that's it."

Ironhide: "Are you sure that this will be good idea?"

Ultra Magnus: "Absolutely, this is something so basic that there is no way in primus they can screw it up!"

Of course, since you know it's me writing this, the Decepticons screw it up. XD

So, yes in the Autobots many attempts to try and put the Decepticons in some sort of parole, they're going to be mailmen.

(If you want, you can imagine them wearing cute little mailmen outfits. How does a robot wear clothes, IDK)

Since this is the Decepticons, they're going to mail things their own way.

They're going to mail things using their special abilities and weapons. Much to the dismay of everyone.

For example, Skywarp teleported inside Ironhide's house to deliver his package, and it went about as well as you think.

Skywarp: *Teleports* "Hey, your mail is-!"

Ironhide: SCREAMS

Skywarp: "Stop screaming, it's me! But here is your mail!" :D

Megatron gets a lot of use with his fusion cannon when delivering mail. Especially when it's time to deliver Optimus's mail.

Megatron: *Stuffing mail into his cannon* "Let's see if I can nail prime in the head."

Starscream: "I'll buy you energon treats if you get it through his wall."

Megatron fires, the package bulldozes the wall and smacks into Optimus Prime's face dead on. They look at the unconscious prime and now Starscream has to buy him Energon treats.

It is just hell for everyone, because these are some of the examples:

Starscream (and some of the other fliers) air bomb the packages and mail, sometimes nailing mechs or tearing down the walls.

Swindle tries to make people pay for their mail

Lugnut tries to tell everyone about THE GLORIOUS MAILMAN THAT IS MEGATRON at every opportunity

Knock out has to judge the mechs on their interior decorating.

Keep in mind, these are some of the examples of the Decepticons doing their creative spin on deliveries.

Next, mail sorting? No one wanted to do it, not even Soundwave. So, they made a drone with a sorting algorithm to do it for them.

Meaning more time to read people's mail and judge them.

Starscream: "Glad they signed up for that interior decorating magazine because his living room was awful to look at."

TC: "Prowl?"

Starscream: "No, Wheeljack."

Knock Out: "Agree."

Soundwave: *Holds up a letter* "Lovers: Are back to writing."

Starscream: "Oh my primus, finally! I need to know if they are going to be married!"

The Decepticons flock around Soundwave as he reads the letter.

Soundwave: "Lovers: Are inviting people to the wedding."

They cheer! Finally, the wedding is going to happen!

Though one thing is for sure, any attempts to steal the mail has gone down to nothing as many mechs come to realize that the cons do not hold back.

So many robbers landed in the hospital.

One thing for certain, the Decepticons are having a blast and it looks like they want to keep delivering mail for a long time.

Much to the dismay of the Autobots, who fear every moment when the mail comes in and whatever new stunt the Decepticons will pull off.

#transformers #maccadam #megatron #starscream #optimus prime #wheeljack #ultra magnus #prowl #swindle #lugnut #soundwave #thundercracker #skywarp #ironhide #autobots #decepticons #silly idea #shitpost

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daisyblinder · 1 year

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Oooohh so happy to see your requests open and congrats on 1k!! Could you do head cannons of the Peaky Boys with an SO who gets night terrors/really bad dreams? Currently dealing with this situation myself 🫠

I'm so sorry to hear that darling 🥺🧡 I hope this makes you feel at least a little better, though I know when sleeping is difficult it really bleeds into other aspects of your life as well 🤗 (big hug coming to you)

Peaky boys with an SO who has night terrors

🦋Arthur

🦋 Arthur knows a thing or two about night terrors. He used to have them every single night when he came back from France

🦋 When he notices you making sudden movements in your sleep, breath shallowing or tears running down your face, he will gently start stroking your hair and arm while saying your name

🦋 He doesn't want to wake you up with a start but he wants to pull you away from the terror as soon as possible

🦋 When you finally wake up, he will pull you against him tightly, and I mean so tightly that you feel like there is not even air separating you

🦋 He does it because he wishes he could take away your terror that way, but he knows he can't. So he cries with you but he cries of feeling helpless in not being able to help you

🦋 Arthur will try to gently get you to tell him about what's causing it or what they are about but if you react negatively he will shut his questions immediately

🦋 If you don't want to sleep for the rest of the night, he will stay awake with you. Playing cards, listening to you read, drawing...

🦋 He also makes sure you are able to nap. He sneaks you into his office and claims that he has a job for you but in truth he has made Finn and John carry in a sofa so you can try to catch some sleep while he is working next to you

🦋 Makes sure that you don't have to sleep without him when you are having a bad time with the night terrors, so he makes excuses to why he can't go run errands in a different city

🦋 "Can't go to London, me chicken is ill"

🦋 When you hear him say that on the phone, you feel bad but can't help giggling and once he hangs up, you hug him from behind, overwhelmed by affection

🦋 "I'm no bloody chicken"

🦚 Thomas

🦚 Tommy is also a certified expert on night terrors

🦚 But he won't let you try his methods to cure yours

🦚 Whereas Arthur is more gentle and stops prodding if you don't wish to speak, Tommy will prod till he sees you are truly at your limit

🦚 He doesn't do it to me be mean but Tommy is keen on having control, and not having control over something that is clearly hurting you, agitates him

🦚 When he notices the signs you are having a nightmare, he will gently shake you awake

🦚 Once you do, he will shush your cries softly while cupping your face, making you look him in the eyes

🦚 He will whisper the softest things to you

🦚 "Shh, sweetheart, look at me. Love, look at me. Nothing is coming to get you. There we go, my beautiful darling, all safe and sound here with me"

🦚 If you wish to open up to him right away, the two of you will lie facing each other, noses almost touching while he takes in every word

🦚 He will always give you a massage after your nightmares to relax you

🦚 After Thomas is done massaging you, he starts running his fingers along your back while talking to you about something that will take your mind somewhere else

🦚 If you don't feel like sleeping anymore, that is what you do for the rest of the night, but if you do sleep; Thomas will continue his ministrations to make sure you sleep well

💋John

💋John will want to pull you away from your terrors in a flash, that is why he can sometimes shake you awake or call out to you a little too roughly

💋 But once you awaken, he will become the gentlest of men

💋 He will pull your face to the crook of his neck, knowing that his scent and proximity will remind you of safety even in your frazzled state

💋 John is not the most tactful with words so he will keep gently stroking your back while whispering one thing he knows you love hearing

💋 "I'm here, love, Johnny's here"

💋 He will not prod you to talk to him, he knows that if you want to talk, you will. So he just continues his soothing ministrations till you give a cue you want something else

💋 One thing John is also set on, is making sure you are snuggled up in blankets. He knows how the softness and the warmth can feel like a fort against all evil, so he will bundle you up

💋 He will also manage to make you laugh, without actually trying. John is dead set on not leaving you alone even for a minute, so when you ask him for water, he makes you go with him to the kitchen to get it

💋 And if you don't want to, he kind of forgets the beginning of the situation and gets pissy

💋 That's what makes you laugh and forget the terror for a minute. Because it's those moments that you realize how much John truly loves you

💋 When you come back from your water drinking trip, he sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you to sit between his legs, against his chest

💋 In that position you can feel his breathing, his heartbeat and the soothing vibration of his voice when he speaks. After a while he always taps at his chest

💋 "Feel that, love? It beats to keep you safe and loved"

#peaky blinders #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #john shelby

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pink-princess-pussy-pop · 1 year

Text

Kiss Me: A Rafe Cameron Fic

OMFG I am in love with Drew Fucking Starkey. That man deserves a fucking Emmy. I had this idea about a Rafe fanfic. I wanted it to be a softer Rafe. But still cannon Rafe, just a bit nicer.

Summary: Rafe overhears you talking to Sarah about how you are going into your senior year and haven’t had your first kiss yet so he decides to rectify that.

Warnings: Language, some sexual tension, but nothing else, I think.

“Sarah, it’s so embarrassing.”

You and Sarah Cameron, your friend since second grade, were. sitting on her families boat, soaking up the last few days of summer. She was sipping her lemonade from across the boat deck.

“No it’s not. There are so many people who haven’t had their first kiss yet!”

You rolled your eyes.

Sarah was perfect. From everything from her hair to her clothing, Sarah Cameron was every teenage boy’s wet-dream. To her, you were uncomparable.

She was in her yellow bikini, her hair perfect, as always, and her flawless skin glowing from the day in the sun.

You, on the other hand, felt uncomfortable in a floral light blue suit you’d borrowed from her and just felt sweaty and gross from being outside.

“Y/N, it is completely normal. Lots of people are still virgins in college! I was still a virgin until...”

“John B.” You interrupted. Your friend grinned at you, her beautiful face glowing with excitement.

“See!” She plopped down on one of the chairs next to you. You rolled your eyes.

“Can we stop this conversation before Rafe gets here? I don’t need him knowing about my non-existent sex life.”

“Ew.” Sarah made a face at you. “Don’t bring Rafe into this. I don’t need him knowing I did it with John B.”

“Sarah I think everyone knows you did it with John B.” She stuck her tongue out at you.

Little did you know that Rafe had been listening to your entire conversation. He had been aboard the ship for a few minutes. His mind was racing.

How had a girl as amazing as you, though the words going through Rafe’s mind were more crude, never been kissed before? He raked his hand through his hair, causing it to fall in front of his face and then knocked on the side of the boat, alerting the two of you to his presence.

“Hey, ladies.” Your heart sped up at the mere sound of Rafe’s voice. You had to clear your throat before speaking.

“Hey Rafe!” You looked over your shoulder to find him looking directly at you.

Rafe’s eyes were zeroed in on you, watching your every movement. He noticed your pupils dilate when you locked eyes, how your teeth pulled at your bottom lip, your legs squeezing together before breaking his gaze and turning back around. Even when he was a little high, Rafe could notice the smallest details. Especially in his younger sister’s best friend.

Rafe had always felt a sense of protection over you. He would always keep a watchful eye over you at parties, made sure that you were well hydrated when drinking, and never let you go anywhere near Barry.

Ward, Rose, and Wheezie boarded My Druthers a few minutes later, and then you were off.

Your mind kept fluttering to Rafe, although you were trying to keep your focus on whatever Sarah and you were doing.

He had always interested you. He was Rafe Cameron... how could he not be interesting?? You’d always see him at the OBX parties, wearing his three-button t-shirts, or tight fitting polos, hanging around Top and Kelce, trying to conceal his red eyes.

Even though the two of you had never had a real conversation throughout the many years you were friends with Sarah, you were inadvertently attracted to him. Rafe always seemed so sure of himself, he knew what was going on, and was not afraid of doing whatever he needed to get what he wanted.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafe’s sights were set on giving you want you wanted. What you needed. He just had to wait for the right time.

So that’s exactly what Rafe was going to do.

Wait.

Rafe was getting antsy. He hadn’t been able to hold a conversation with his own father. You just looked so fucking good in the blue bikini. Of course, his mind was going further than just kissing you, but he was going to give you what you needed. So when you excused yourself to use the bathroom, Rafe took the opportunity.

He waited inside the small living room of the boat, his long arms spread out across the back of the couch. You rounded the corner, ready to head back outside when you heard Rafe clear his throat. You turned to him, suddenly feeling very exposed, crossing your arms over your stomach.

Rafe’s tongue ran over his bottom lip as he blatantly checked you out. He grinned after seeing the obvious reaction your body had to him before standing up from his place on the couch.

You were frozen in place, the cool AC of the small room causing you to shiver, though it also would have been from Rafe’s eyes lingering on your body.

Rafe stood in front of you, his height intimidating.

“Did,” You cleared your throat again, “Did you need anything?” The side of his mouth quirked up into a bit of a smile, sending a flurry of butterflies through your body.

“Y/N, I think the question is do you need anything?” Your eyes were cast down as Rafe’s fingers grazed your arm. You could barely focus on anything but the heat radiating off of his large torso or the veins that were prominent on his large hands. His fingers brushed along your collar bones, your neck, before lightly pulling your chin up to meet his gaze. Rafe’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Y/N, tell me what you need me to do.” Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your naked waist, his ring cold on your skin.

“Rafe...” You could barely think with him this close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hand settled on the side of your neck, bringing you ever so closer against him. “I heard you talking with Sarah. So all you need to do, is tell me what you need me to do.” He leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “I’m not gonna do it until you tell me,” He brought his gaze to your lips. “exactly what you’d like me to do.”

“Rafe.” His blue eyes locked on yours. “Rafe, can you...” He smiled that half smile, the one that made your heart flutter. Your cheeks were flushed.

“Just ask, baby.” Your heart pounded at his simple words, but never in your wildest dreams did you believe that Rafe Cameron would be calling you baby.

“Rafe can you-” He stopped you.

“No baby, what do you need me to do.” He was whispering now, and you were now sure that the goosebumps on your body were not effects from the AC, but from Rafe Cameron himself. “Say it, hon.” Rafe was smiling again. You, his little sister’s best friend, so close to him he could practically hear your heartbeat. You seemed so fragile beneath him. Rafe needed to protect you. To make sure you had everything you needed. And right now, you needed him to kiss you.

“Rafe, I-” You paused. “Rafe I need you to... I need you to...” You could barely breathe. “Rafe please kiss me.” You pleaded with him, arms uncrossing to touch his arms. Rafe caught your wrists and brought them back down to your sides.

“Baby, you need to use the words I need to hear.” His lips were dangerously close to yours. “I’m only gonna ask one more time. What do you need?”

You answered immediately.

“Rafe I need you to kiss me.” Rafe grinned.

“That’s all you had to say.”

Rafe kissed you. His hands that were keeping yours to your side slid up your body, pulling you flush against him.

You had heard in movies and read in books how when girls were kissed for the first time, like really kissed, that sparks would fly.

With Rafe, instead of sparks, there was a whole fucking fire that ignited inside of you.

Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him further into your body.

Rafe knew that if he didn’t stop himself that he would lose control, so he pulled away from you. He looked at you, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, hands still wrapped around his neck.

When you opened your eyes, Rafe Cameron was grinning at you.

“Thank you.” You whispered. He unwrapped himself from you and took a step back, taking his warmth with him. He walked towards the door to the deck of the boat, leaving you standing in the small boat living room.

“Hey Y/N.” You glanced over your shoulder at him, his blue eyes on yours again. “If you need anything else, just ask.” Rafe winked at you before opening the door and leaving you alone.

Sorry I’m just fucking in love with Drew Starkey rn.

Part 2? IDK.

#rafe cameron #rafecameron #outerbanks #obx #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey

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halfdeadfullgay · 2 months

Text

404 - Title Not Found (Pt 3) WIP

Part 2 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Jason learns just a bit more about the guy who feels familiar while doing laundry.

Danny sees Laundry Guy at the gala and wants to avoid him because it’s not everyday people from Crime Alley go to Wayne galas but amazing Fenton luck strikes.

AN PLEASE READ FIRST: As always this is crack, this is a whole crack fic; and I play fast and loose with DC&DP cannon. Ignore any out of character writing(mainly Vald and Bruce). Also this is a WIP, this is strictly a work in progress and not the final product. I just wanted to post something while working on this fic and other stuff and this won the vote.

Final things before the actual fic:

Kinda/slow Vald redemption aka still an asshole but one you can deal with

Danny - Quarter Guy

Jason - Laundry Guy

———————

Jason immediately knew that the other wasn’t from Gotham. No one just offered anything without an immediate confirmation that they would get something in return. At least that’s how it was in Crime Alley. He and the other held small talk while they were doing their laundry.

“You just offer quarters to people?” He said sarcastically only to have an actual answer in return. “Only the cute people.” The other said with a somewhat joking tone and wink.

“Uh huh. What’s ya name? I didn’t catch it.” Jason wouldn’t directly admit but this guy had peaked his interest even more.

“Well, I didn’t throw it.” The guy answered with a smile that felt sarcastic with just a bit of wanting chaos.

The topic changed to other things. He learned that Quarter Guy had moved to Crime Alley awhile back, he didn’t give a clear reason why; “Just thought it’d be a good change of pace.”

He also learned that Quarter Guy was going to some kind of event with his godfather; saying that even though he agreed to go, he could still complain. And god did he complain but nothing sounded too bad. “He’s just a fruitloop, I wouldn’t doubt him trying to use me to get secrets from the other people.”

Jason didn’t share any too personal information; besides it just being out of sceret identity and such but it would also feel weird to. Jason did complain about how he was more or less forced into agreeing to go to the Wayne gala, only not sharing that it was a gala or that it was a Wayne event.

“Maybe we end up at the same event.” Quarter Guy, who still didn’t tell Jason his name, joked. His laundry had been done before his own. Quarter Guy left with a smile that only made him want to figure out why he felt familiarly even more. Jason was more curious about this guy than before but decided to hold off on figuring out more about it.

—

It was just meant as a joke. Danny really did mean as a joke but just his fucking luck(or honestly he was expecting CW to be the cause in some way), he was now looking at the guy he gave quarters to a day or two pior. He was standing next to the snack table, avoiding Vald so he didn’t have to worry about talking to other rich people he didn’t trust. The snacks didn’t look good in any sense of the word, why did he expect rich people to know what good snacks look and taste like.

He was thinking about texting Sam to complain, knowing that she would say I told you so but he noticed the guy from his apartment building was there. It took a second to recgionze him since he seemed more put together and dressed nicer, but it was him. Danny wouldn’t have questioned it too much if the guy wasn’t standing next to Bruce Wayne but he was. Danny didn’t need to know any more rich people in his life but life(or probably CW) had other plans.

He noticed that the guy hadn’t seemed to see him yet. Danny moved away from the snack table, going opposite from Wayne and the Laundry Guy; mainly focusing on staying hidden but a voice called him. “Daniel!” It wasn’t loud, at least it wasn’t to humans. It had just enough of a hint of ghost speak to have Danny turn to look. Of course when he had his back turned, Vald had to go and speak to Bruce Wayne. The amazing Fenton luck stuck again.“Come over, I’ve hardly seen you since we’ve arrived.”

Danny held back a sigh and eye roll as he went over to Vald and Wayne; which also meant Laundry Guy. He had felt Wayne’s eyes on him as he went over, Laundry Guy hadn’t seemed to notice or frankly care enough to look. He looked at Bruce. He knew of “Brucie” Wayne and had wondered if it was just a persona like when Vald used to pretend to be niceish to his dad. He side eyed Laundry Guy, who didn’t look at him at all.

“You didn’t tell me you had a so-“ Bruce started with a hint of curiosity. Danny was quick to cut him off. “He didn’t because I’m not.” That’s what finally got Laundry Guy’s attention, he looked at Danny for a second and Danny already knew that he recognized him. “Daniel, that was rude.” Vald looked at him before going back to Bruce. “I apologize for him but he is right. He’s my godson.” Vald said, leaving it to Danny to introduce himself.

“Yes, I do apologize for cutting you off like that.” Danny started. He used the tone he would use with some of the ghost nobles. It was a bit forced but relatively kind. He’d hate to admit and never would out loud but he learned it from Vald. “It’s alright, I understand how words hold meaning.” He noticed how it sounded more real(?) than “Brucie” usually did.

He just nodded before continuing, “Okay. I’ll introduce myself before Vald tries to.” Danny made his tone sound just a bit joking. He felt Laundry Guy’s full attention on him. He smiled, a little fake and a little smug. “I’m Danny Fenton and as Vald said, I am his godson.”

#fanfic #crack fic #red hood #jason todd #ghost king danny #danny phantom #dead on main #dp x dc #dpxdc #hot mess fic #fanfic wip #current wip #as always i tried my best #404 - Title Not Found

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brightnote · 5 months

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The Marvels is a lot of fun even though it is low stakes & does not totally make sense. It' a quick movie and worth a watch for the comedic relief from Kamala Kahn.

Spoilers for the Marvels below

This film was 100000 times better than Quantum Mania and infinity times better than Secret Invasion, which I think we can all agree never needed to happen and did absolutely nothing to set up the Marvels---literally! Fury and Carol have still done nothing and failed the Skrulls.

Kamala Kahn (Iman Vellani) carried the humor in this ride and it was well worth the watch for her. I'm glad I saw it. There was lots of funny parts but for the most part the overall plot did not come through or make any sense--but you know what that's totally fine! I'm just in it for fun and it did make me remember that Nick Fury and superhero movies are supposed to be fun--or can be fun! Who cares if it's low stakes or doesn't totally come together--did it make you laugh? Did the actors do a good job? Did you leave excited for what comes next? For me yes to all three.

The most exciting and fun parts were really from the B-Story or from Kamala Kahn and her family. The dancing/singing planet story was silly but Kamala carried that scene for me too! And there def needed to be more reunion of Monica/Carol but I was happy to see more Maria Rambeau!!! Also did anyone else think Dar-benn meant a son and not the physical sun in the sky lmao.

It's also not clear how, or why, or if at all Secret Invasion folds into it. Even the skrulls themsleves are pretty irrelevant to the plot of the Marvels--in fact what happened to them is unclear/awful and largely un-adressed as well as what is happening to skrulls on earth! Also it was a good reminder that Nick Fury aside from Secret Invasion is actually quite fun? It was infuriating to see him care more unnamed crew members and returning them to earth than him caring about Maria or Talos his two besties? I DON'T KNOW. I am going to assume this show is not cannon based on how it wasn't referenced or acknowledged at all. Also no mention of Varra, and for someone who left a huge mess on earth, Fury seemed pretty good overall...

Also, so now there's also countless Flerken on earth? Are you telling me over 30 years Fury never investigated Flerken eggs? I DON'T KNOW. Was it funny? Yes and it was a good time but it just made me sad that Talos & Maria Hill got the shaft from this mostly feel good movie (minus the fact the skrulls are still without and once again ignored) It kind of makes me think they made a 212 million dollar show just off Talos and Maria because there was no other explanation for their absence in the film.

One thing I loved at the end was the Winter Soldier call back when Kamala showed up to surprise Kate! Kamala is just a delight. But you know who would have been the best person ever to lead a team of young (mostly female) Avengers.......... MARIA HILL!!! Imagine Maria Hill leading Yelana, Kate, and Kamala? Plus she & Kamala would be great. Kamala is the perfect person for Maria to work with too because she's cute and funny and Maria can be the serious one. UGH MARVEL. I HATE THE OPPORTUNITIES YOU MISS.

thoughts? agree/disagree? Was this my favorite marvel movie ever? no! was it the best one ever made? no, but it's definitely not worth the hate it's getting that's for sure!

Also do wish they used the intergalactic remix more.

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underground-secret · 3 months

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a haunting in an abandoned asylum rescuing two teenagers who ventured in, they become trapped with the spirits of those who had died in a riot decades ago, one of which was a doctor who causes extreme rage in his victims.

Warnings: Cannon violence, murder and mentions of suicide, arguing, banter, usage and mention of guns, ghosts, panicking/ anxiety, a little bit of angst

A/N: There will be a confusing part where your like who is she talking about and to that I say all in due time. Also i’m sorry it seems like i’m giving up on this (I didn’t realize I posted the last part a month ago) IM NOT i’m just super busy with school, if you’ve taken APUSH you get it—i’m fighting for my life.

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes, @star-yawnznn

Word Count: 11,033

Asylum

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch)

I let out a big sigh, slumping in my chair as I do so, my head falling onto my laptop's keyboard, “How is your dad moving from place to place so fast”, I grumble into the keys. “Literally how!” My head shoots up as I complain, looking at Dean who sat across from me with his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at his fathers journal.

His eyes meet mine even as his head faces the book, his stare tells me everything I need to know. He’s also very frustrated, certainly more than me and he too has no answers.

I contemplate slamming my head against my keyboard when Sam walks back into their hotel room. His phone clasped tightly in his hand after he just went outside to call several people. “Caleb hasn't heard from him?” Dean asks his approaching brother even though the answer is written on his disappointed face.

“Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Paster Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?” Sam shoots back, referencing people the Winchesters knew. I had heard of them too, most of them really good friends of the boys but I never actually met them.

Now it’s Dean's turn to answer and complain, “No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out.... I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like frickin’ Yoda.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s.” Sam sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“But isn’t he like, you know…wanted?” I ask, considering being a Hunter comes with breaking a lot of laws, like a lot. “That and Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail” Dean adds.

Sam’s face contorts into anger, “I don't care anymore.” Suddenly a cell phone rings from across the room, Dean's phone to be exact who immediately goes over to his bag. Sam huffs something between a sigh and a frustrated grunt, “After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing.”

“I know!” Dean yells loudly, snapping, the sound echoing off the ill painted walls. He rummages through his duffel rougher, “Where the hell is my cellphone?”

“You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

“Don't say that!” He snaps again, “He's not dead! He's – he's…”

“He’s not dead, your father is good at what he does. I'm sure he’s just caught up in something.” I tried to reason, turning in my chair so I could face both boys.

“Like that’s a good excuse” Sam spits back.

“Hey, I never said it was! But it certainly is a better and more optimistic view than death!” I lecture, my face scrunching up in offense.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles quietly getting our attention, “I don't believe it.” His words stopped Sam from saying anything further to me. His focus turned back on his brother, “What?” He asks.

“It's, uh....It's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean answers and it’s clear who the message is from. I want to turn to Sam and say ‘Ha! told you so!’ but I hold back on the childish, but totally correct, notion. Before Sam can say anything snarky about the message Dean cuts him off, “Can I steal that?” He asks me to point to my open laptop. I nod my head quickly, “Go ahead.”

He walks back over to the table turning my laptop until it’s facing him and where he sat. “You think Dad was texting us?” Sam asks as his brother types away.

“He's given us coordinates before.” Dean answers.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean.”

“To be fair, a toaster and coordinates are pretty different. All you need is a paper map” I cut in, earning a hard glance from Sam. I could not explain why he suddenly had a problem with me other than the fact I disagreed with him, which in that case makes him just as childish as I wanted to be.

“Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least.” Dean adds, arguing.

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?” Sam pushes, still somehow convinced it isn’t his Dad which when I think about it is pretty harsh. Would he rather his dad was dead? Probably not.

Dean answers, “Nah, it said 'unknown'.”

“Well, where do the coordinates point?” Sam follows up.

“That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois.”

“Ok, a little random, but what’s specifically so interesting about Illinois?” I ask this time.

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He turns my laptop around with a news article zoomed in on a black and white photo of a cop, “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?” Sam asks, again I want to say something about him asking a dumb question but I hold back not wanting any more sass from him or anyone.

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let’s see…” He scoots my laptop back, pulling open his Dads stuffed journal that sat on the table. “Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam snorts, “This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job.”

Dean shrugs, “Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?”

“Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.” Sam snaps back.

“Does it matter? I mean we know it’s a hunt and we get to help people. I don’t see a loss in going.” I say, half shrugging.

“This doesn't strike either of you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?” Sam argues, his head snapping from his brother to me. It’s a good point to be honest but what else is there to do? Though I do not make that question vocal.

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.” Dean yells, final word. Sam makes a nasty bitchface and sighs, saying nothing more.

I lean against the cold exterior of the Impala, my arms crossed against my chest to fend off any bit of the cold night even with my layers on. I could go inside the car but standing outside, right at the front of the car, felt more productive while waiting for the boys to finish their whole “skit” for information.

Dean would go in and antagonize the partner of the cop from the article which would inevitably fail. So Sam would be waiting there telling Dean, who he pretends to not know, to (in a lack of a better word) f- off so that Sam could weasel his way into questioning.

A very complicated plan for a bunch of dummies. I sigh again, my eyes closing in the progress, I try to force the tension out of my body, all the arguing infecting my usual good mood.

I open my eyes back up only to round the car and find it locked. My head falls forward, my chin touching my chest, of course Dean would lock his precious car. I glanced around me, barely anyone lingering outside except some people up against the bar smoking or leaving to go elsewhere, no one was looking so I gingerly tapped the handle, a swirl of purple mist leaving my fingertip until it slithered its way into the car and its mechanics. With a satisfying click the little lock pokes up, I grin as I pull open the door leaning in only to rustle through my bag and pull out my book.

Dean would have to forgive me, though my little trick did nothing to harm the car to begin with. I push down the lock, jabbing into my palm as I do so, closing the door behind me I make my way to the front of the car once more leaning against it as I open up my worn book of Little Women for the hundredth time. The pages had long begun to yellow though it only went as far as a light yellow, still the crisp smell of an old book wafted into my nose, serenity finding me.

Suddenly the bar door slams open, startling me for a moment after getting lost in the prospect of an escape. Dean quickly walks over to where I was waiting looking extra grumpy, his eyebrows scrunched together with his arms thrown out, “He pushed me so hard!” He nearly yells, his choice of words were childish at worst and yet it was very amusing. “Why are you reading that again?” He asks, suddenly pointing at my book.

“‘Cause I love it” I smile simply.

“Haven’t you read that a hundred times?” he asks, moving next to me, leaning against the car too.

“Give or take” I laugh lightly, “It’s one of my many comfort books.” I mark my spot before shutting the book. “I’m guessing your silly plan worked?” I ask him as he leans closer to me. He gives me that devilish smirk, “Not silly if it worked, sweetheart.”

Some time later Sam exits the bar, “Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy” Dean spits.

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam bites back, just tension building on more tension. But there’s only so much the atmosphere or people can take before it blows up.

“Huh?”

“It’s like immersing yourself emotionally and psychologically with your character” I whisper before closing my book shut. But instead of clarity crossing over Dean's face he looks just as confused if not a little more. Sam sighs, “Never mind.”

“Okay so what’d he tell you?” I ask.

“So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.” Sam explains. Basically nothing to suggest him suddenly committing a murder suicide.

“What about at home?” Dean shoots back.

“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.” Sam answers, I frown at the last part there was a whole life they could have lived.

“Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.” Dean acknowledges.

“Well did anything happen as of supper recently that would even hint to a psychotic break?” I ask even though based on what we have it didn’t seem likely.

“No” Sam shakes his head, “Not that he mentioned at least.” I nod my head making a small mental note of that possibility, although unlikely, just in case.

“What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?” Dean questions.

“A lot.”

A loud horn blares from a nearby truck as Sam makes his way over the tall fence. With Dean slightly ahead of me I begin to climb the chain linked fence, I get a small jumping start clutching on to the cold fence. I shove my shoes into the little groves as I make my way up swiftly, being able to lift my legs high enough that I could make it to the top in about four moves. I balance myself on top of it before swinging my leg over it, I reposition myself to dangle slightly as my feet find purchase in the fence when about half way down I just decide to jump the rest of the way, landing on my feet in an almost crouched position.

The asylum itself didn’t look like it was falling apart but the overgrown bushes on the plot, the moss covering the building and the boarded up windows were a tell-tale tell sign enough that it was abandoned. The only thing keeping it from being entirely creepy was the early morning sun.

The door had no lock on it most likely from all the trespassing. But just as the door fell open an immediate musty smell hit my nose from all the trash covering the floor from beer bottles and cans to random bits of paper. Every surface of the walls was covered by either graffiti or mold, only small hints of the old green wallpaper left behind. “So apparently the cops chased the kids here....into the south wing.” Sam points to the sign hung over the door. The letters were mostly peeling, just another sign of the aging building.

“South wing, huh?” Dean breathes out, “Wait a second.” He pulls out his Dada journal from the inside pocket of his coat, flipping the pages until he found whatever he was looking for, “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So the South Wing seems to be the route of this all” I remark.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” Dean points out, looking up from the journal. Sam notes the rusted, broken chains hanging from the handle of the door, “Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years.”

“Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in.” Dean comments.

I cringe, “Is it really necessary to say such ominous things?”

“What? It’s the truth” Dean shrugs and I roll my eyes.

“Are you guys done?” Sam asks looking at us impatiently

“Yeah yeah open the door” I say before quickly adding a mumble of, “I hope a rat jumps out at you”

Sam looks at me with a mix of being offended and being annoyed, “Why would you say that?”

“Sorry!” I say half meaning it, “It’s an abandoned building and all so you know…rats”

“Just” Dean starts, him being the annoyed one now, “Open the door.” Sam nods, carefully opening the rusted door with a creek revealing a long creepy hallway, but at last no rats scurry out. The long hall was somehow only slightly better than the entrance with the walls peeling of its paint, most of it replaced by mold which only increases as the hallway extends, if we get sick we’ll know why that’s for sure.

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel.” Dean jokes, lighting the mood as he pulls out his EMF reader, referencing the movie Six Sense. “Dude, enough.” Sam groans.

“I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.” Dean says. Without missing a beat, Sam bites back, “I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell.”

“Anything going on with your EMF?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home.” Dean answers.

“Well, spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, the freaks come out at night.” Dean comments.

The room falls quiet for a moment before Dean speaks up again, “Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?” Sam pushes his brother in response. “Oh definitely Jennifer Love Hewitt, I mean did you see her in Shortcut to Happiness ‘cause…wow” I answer before quickly adding, “No offense Sammy.” But Sam pushes me lightly too, a laugh bubbling up from my chest as I nearly knock into the moldy wall.

We enter a room that smells worse than the main entrance area, the culprit of the rotting flesh smell most likely being whatever pink goop is spilling out of a glass jar with liquid on a table in the far corner. This asylum was truly amazing at one-upping itself in terms of being horrible. The entire room is bad itself, all sorts of equipment they used on patients long ago when they had no clue what a mental illness really was or how to help people who struggled with it.

“God, they did such horrible things to these poor people” I remarked, stepping deeper into the room. The sight of a clearly used surgery table sending a shiver down my spine. Dean lets out a low whistle, “Electro-shock. Lobotomies…”

“Did you know JFK’s sister got a lobotomy done because she suffered from seizures and mood swings. But it only wound up leaving her permanently incapacitated and unable to properly speak, only goes to show how little they knew about all that stuff” I say, recalling a fact I remember reading about somewhere in an article.

“‘That one of your fun facts?” Dean inquires, clearly humoring me. I hum a “mhm” as I bend down slightly to look at a glass container filled with some sort of yellow liquid. I almost expect something equally as gross to be inside but there isn’t.

“So. Whaddaya think? Ghosts possessing people?” Dean asks out loud to no one in particular.

“Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting.” Sam answers, listing out examples of cases in which people claimed the devil had told them to do something bad and or possessed them. “Or Son of Sam, though that guy was just a basket case who admitted to lying about that demon bit” I add.

“Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean quips in, always with his references. I look up from the vials of I don’t know what to see him grinning, a smile forming on my own face at his charming expression.

“Dean.” Sam calls out, gaining his brother's attention, “When are we going to talk about it?” Uneasiness slips its way into the cracks of the building, finding us. “Talk about what?” Dean asks back, but I have a feeling he knows what he’s talking about, it was clear as day. “About the fact Dad's not here.” Sam answers, already clearly annoyed. I straightened up, moving an inch closer to where they stood in the middle of the room in case I had to break up another fight. It hadn’t been anywhere close to a week from the last time I had to do so back in Kansas. “Oh. I see.” Dean replies, “How ’bout...never.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “I'm being serious, man. He sent us here…” Dean cuts in immediately, “So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later.” They moved closer to each other with each word they spat, up until they got close enough that they would be able to throw a punch if they decided to. “It doesn't matter what he wants.” Sam argues.

“See. That attitude? Right there?” Dean points at him, “That is why I always get the extra cookie.”

“Guys come on, you can argue this later let’s just finish this hunt” I sigh, crossing my arms across my chest. Sam glares at me as if to say “stay out of this”, I get why they’re upset but all this arguing gets us nowhere and it’s beginning to get annoying. Sam turns back to his brother, “Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about.”

“I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order.” Dean replies rather calmly. I don’t necessarily like John, knowing everything he put my boys through made it hard to. But he was their Dad and Dean wanted my help and so I will help find their Dad, even if I mostly agree with Sam. “So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?” Sam spits, and I almost hate the fact that I do agree with him.

I try to ignore their arguing, knowing they wouldn’t let up, it wasn’t the sort of argument where someone won. I open a drawer near me, cobwebs and multiple clippings from old patient files filling it. “Of course we do.” I hear Dean answer.

I carefully take the clippings out, trying to avoid the cobwebs. I look through the handful quickly everything either ripped off or eradicated except bits of the Doctor's name. “If you're done over there it seems the main evil doctor was ‘Sanford Ellicott’. We should probably research him and the south wing, see what we can find” I say plainly, hoping this could all be over with soon so at least they would stop fighting.

I keep my legs up on the soft chair, my knees to my chest as I read my book. Dean is sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair, his legs spread widely. From my peripheral vision I see him stare up at the ceiling clearly bored as we wait for his brother to be done in therapy, or really done questioning the apparent son of Dr.Ellicott.

He groans, the noise coming from deep in his chest. I put my bookmark back in my book, shutting it and putting it next to me. I put my arms on my propped up knees lying the side of my face down on them, my cheek squishing against my arm as I peer at Dean. The immediate thought of how good he looks with his head thrown back, a very light stubble gracing his face, his eyes looking greener with the light shining from behind us and—

I shove the thought far into the back of my mind, it wasn’t the time for this not at all. Not even a little. “‘You okay?” I ask softly.

He rolls his head to the side, eyeing me “Sammy’s taking too damn long. He’s already pissed me off.”

“He wouldn’t be taking long unless it was necessary” I answer, smiling at his demeanor. He groans again, “Do you wanna go get coffee? I saw a place a block away, Sam can text when he’s done.” I offer, hoping it would distract him from being so pissed off. He leans his head up, squinting at me, “Is this your attempt at curing my boredom?”

“That depends, is it working?” I squint back at him as I lift my head from my arms, laughter threatening to bubble from my lips.

“Yes” He nods, throwing his hand on my knee, “Let’s go” but he keeps his hand there, a giddy nervousness settling itself in my stomach.

“See I told you couples therapy works!” a hushed voice says catching our attention. I look up to see a red headed girl and her tan boyfriend walking past us without trying to hide their stares, “Wer— we aren’t—“ I try to say loud enough for them to hear but my voice doesn't reach them, “Actually” I sigh, my face feeling warm, “it’s probably best if they just go to therapy.”

I turn my head back towards Dean, finding him already looking at me with scrunched eyebrows, studying me as if he was contemplating something. I place my hand over his, only realizing then my hands were cold when compared to his warm ones, “Ready?” I ask softly. He clears his throat abruptly, nodding his head as he removes his hand from my knee and gets up. I make sure to grab my book as I follow suit, but we only reach the door when a familiar tall figure walks right past us.

Dean's body language changes, he turns back to me confused and annoyed before pushing through the door. Tension clearly already has made its home in his back and shoulders. “Dude! You were in there forever, we were about to leave you. What the hell were you talking about?” He calls out towards his brother, easily matching his pace.

“Just the hospital, you know.” Sam answers plainly. I jog to catch up to them and their stupid long legs, “What’d you find?” I ask.

“The south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.” “Sounds cozy.” Dean remarks.

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.” Sam elaborates.

“Any deaths? Dean follows up.

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.”

“Did they…stuff him somewhere. I mean I feel like the place is only so big, right?” I hesitantly say.

Sam shrugs, “Cops scoured every inch of the place.”

“That's grim.” Dean murmurs just as we reach the Impala. “Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down” Sam says as he rounds the car.

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.” Dean lists out.

“And a bunch of angry spirits.” Sam adds

“Cute.” I remark, sarcastically.

“Let's check out the hospital tonight.” Dean finishes, opening the car door.

I shine my flashlight over the asylum, naturally in the darkness of the night it was far creepier than it was only hours before. I follow behind the boys as they enter the dingy entrance, making sure I don’t hit into the duffle bag hanging from Dean's shoulder. “‘You guys getting anything?” I ask since they hold the equipment. Dean holds his EMF reader out in front of him, “Yeah, big time.”

“This place is orbing like crazy.” Sam adds, looking at the screen of the camera he holds. “Eww, why would you say it like that?” I cringe before mimicking the way he said “orbing.” Sam turns around slowly, glaring at me “How mature of you, Y/n” he deadpans. “Hey i’m just calling it as it is” I respond in defense. He glares at me one last time, turning back around and I hear him mimic what I said. I’m about to hit him on the arm when Dean starts speaking, he looks between us, ultimately choosing to ignore our childish behavior, “There’s probably multiple spirits out and about.”

Sam added “And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting…”

“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em.” Dean finishes, “Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.” With that we keep walking until we hit the same room we were in the last time we were here, not having gone any further than that the first time around.

We walk a few feet further separating into three different rooms. I scanned my flashlight over the dark room, it had no windows though even if it did it would have been boarded up meaning no natural light to begin with had it been daytime. It was a relatively small room with more graffiti lining the originally white walls. I take a single step into the room, glass crunching underneath my shoe, I lift my foot immediately, kicking the broken glass bottle to the side.

I move further into the room, an overturned desk and a long gone broken lamp on the floor. Must have been a little office, I think to myself as I walk over to the desk finding a small knocked over filing cabinet. I nudged the metal cabinet with my foot, testing to see if anything wanted to make an appearance…like a rat.

When nothing comes from it I twirl my finger, an invisible force turning the cabinet right side up making it accessible. I pull each draw open, still cautious of any critters crawling out, hoping that there would be some hint as to where to look for the unfound bodies. “Y/n” I hear my name called out from behind me.

“Yeah?” I say turning around but there’s no one there. I shine my flashlight first on the doorway, only shadows dancing on the outskirts of my light. I purse my lips, a small pinch of fear forming itself in my heart. I move my flashlight slowly to shine in the corner, every hair on my body standing up. An old man with deep sunken eyes stands in the corner, his body permanently hunched over with his head tilted to the side. Countless needles stick out from his ghostly body, piercing through his hospital gown.

My mouth goes slack with an almost scream in warning to the boys. Still the man doesn't move, he just stares at me which is arguably worse than if he lunged at me, his mouth moves as if in an attempt to say something but his jaw is broken and the words come out in an extended noise. “b….b…b—“ The loud sound of a shotgun goes off just across from the man, my head snaps in the direction of the doorway, a breathless Dean standing there his gun still pointed at the man. “We thought something happened!” Sam half yells, standing right behind his brother.

“I literally haven’t moved from here” I respond, looking back at the corner where he stood. “You okay sweetheart?” Dean asks. I nod, “Yeah, I mean he didn’t do anything he was just—“

“Standing there” Sam finishes my sentence, “See I told you!”—he nudges his brother—“There’s something weird with the spirits here, they aren’t being aggressive-“ I cut him off this time, concern and confusion making my eyebrows scrunch together, “Wait you encountered a spirit?”

“You didn’t hear Sammy scream for us? Or the gun?” Dean asks. I look between them only being more confused, “No, what are you talking about?!” Except they don’t answer, only looking at each other and then back at me, eyes wide, “Alright something really is going on” Dean admits.

They begin to shuffle out of the room, and I follow, we walk aimlessly down the hall in thought when suddenly a noise like metal scraping against the floor comes from a room just steps away. Dean immediately raises his shotgun, carefully entering the room with Sam and I acting as the lightning. The room had a singular upturned bed facing the only window in the small room, a ragged sheet covering the bed barely concealing the top of a blonde head. We all share a look, bracing ourselves, Sam reaches out tipping over the bed causing it to come down with a loud crash. A young girl sits crouched on the floor, panting and grasping her chest.

“It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?” Dean asks the poor girl, moving his gun down and away from the girl. “Katherine. Kat.” She answers, peering up at us with her big brown eyes.

“What are you doing here!?” Sam half yells at her. I hit his arm, “You suck at comforting people” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, nearly missing the glare I received in return. I move past Dean leaning down towards the girl, offering my hand to help her up. You can comfort someone without making them seem incapable. She eyes me carefully for a beat before shakily reaching up and taking my hand, “Um. My boyfriend, Gavin” she answers as I lift her up. “Is he here?” Dean asks.

She lets go of my hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears, “Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts” she explains, "I thought it was all just...you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and... “

“Alright.” Dean responds, pausing for a beat as if to go over the plan he most definitely already made, “Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.”

“No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.” Kat declares, looking frantically between us all.

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous.” Dean lectures, his voice getting increasingly louder. “That's why I gotta find him” she answers, her voice stern and straight regardless of being clearly shaken up. Dean meets Sam and then my eyes, “Alright, I guess we gunna split up then. Y/N with Sam, Kat with me. Let’s go.”

I lead the way out this time, Sam right next to me as we go down hallway after hallway. Each one seemingly more intricate than the last, if that was even possible. I hope Sam is keeping track of where we are because I’m already lost.

“Gavin?” I call out, peeking around each hallway corner. Is it possible he left? No he wouldn’t leave his girlfriend, right? Though the asylum is huge and he could be anywhere—“Y/N! Over here!” Sam calls out from down the hallway to my left. I swirl around heading towards him, crouched down near a rouge hospital bed, I hear him speak as I approach “Hey, Gavin. It's okay, I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” He responds, fixing his brown hair as he pushes himself away from Sam knocking into the wall behind him in the process. “My name is Sam, that’s Y/N” he gestures towards me, “Uh, we found your girlfriend.”

“Kat?” He asks his brown eyes widening, he gets up revealing his height. He isn't as tall as Sam, probably closer to Dean's height then anything but he was certainly taller then me and his girlfriend. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?” Sam responds.

“I was running. I think I fell.” He lifts his hand to the side of his head, his corduroy jacket moving with him. “What were you running from?” I ask.

“There was...there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up.”

“Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?” Sam follows up, asking carefully. “What? No, she...uh…”

“She what?” Sam asks, impatience on the tip of his tongue.

“She...kissed me.”

…The hall falls silent, neither of us expecting that to be his answer. I’ve never heard of a case in which someone was kissed by a ghost. I mean that’s just disgusting and horrifying, no amount of mouthwash can fix that…or therapy. “Uh...um...but...but she didn't hurt you, physically?” Sam finally says.

“Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!” Gavin yells, his eyes widening again. “Well, trust me, it could have been worse.” Sam replies, again not much on the comforting side. Plus I feel like I’d rather be thrown ten feet then kissed by a ghost. “I’m sorry we have to pressure you like this now after you just experienced that but is there anything else you remember?” I ask softly.

“She uh...actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.” He answers shyly, almost embarrassed by all this. “What?” Sam shoots back.

“I don't know. I ran like hell.” He answers truthfully.

“That’s the third encounter without an attack” Sam thinks out loud. Gavin glares at him sharply, “Oh…Um…besides the…Uh…kissing” Sam adds.

“Can we really trust that the South Wing really did have violent patients? I mean the workers here aren’t exactly the most reliable considering everything they’ve done to these poor people” I mention.

“She’s got a point” Gavin intervenes. We both look at him, “Um yeah. But what if they were trying to tell us something?” Sam says.

“You mean like some hint as to where uh…” I look over at Gavin knowing I can’t exactly say a rotting body somewhere, “you know is” I mumble looking back at Sam. “Yeah” he answers just as a loud scream rings out from afar. We all share a look of confusion and worry, “That sounds like Kat!” Gavin says. Not waiting a second later we go off running in the direction of the screaming, just about everything you're not supposed to do.

Just down the hall Dean is banging on a huge metal door with a pipe. “What’s going on?” Sam asks just as we approach.

“She's inside with one of them.” He answers his breath a little labored. Kay screams again, “Help me!!”

“Kat!” Gavin yells back banging on the door.

“Get me outta here!” She shouts.

I hide my hand behind my hip making sure to look down, to avoid having to explain anything to Gavin later. With my concealed hand I reached it over to the metal door, my fingertips barely brushing the cold exterior before a hand wrapped around my wrist pulling it forth. “Wait” Sam said sternly, dropping my wrist. I turn my head to look at Dean with questioning eyes as if he would have a reason why his brother stopped me. But when I look at him he’s looking between my wrist and his brother, his eyes scrunched in offense and what may look like anger, upset he stopped me, because doing so might be risking an innocent girl's life.

“Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down.” Sam commands, talking to Kat through the door. He must be thinking back to what we said before. “She's gotta what?!” Dean yells, astonished.

“I have to what?!” Kat shouts back.

“These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate.” Sam explains, indeed referencing what we were discussing before I just hope he’s right, “You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it.”

“You face it!” Kat snaps back. A smile threatening to show on my lips. “No! It's the only way to get out of there” Sam insists.

“No!” Kat screams.

“Sam, come on let me get her out” I say quietly hoping only those who know about my abilities can hear me. “No” He says towards me before directing his voice towards the door, “Look at it, come on. You can do it.”

She seems to listen to him, no more screams against his plan. We all wait impatiently, the air thick with anxiety, if this doesn’t work then we caused a very avoidable death. “Kat?” Gavin calls out.

“Man, I hope you're right about this.” Dean grumbles.

“Yeah, me too” Sam nods.

“No offense Sammy, but you should have voiced your concern before” I bite, crossing my arms across my chest.

Suddenly the door creaks open slowly, Kat peeking out. Her eyes are wide and blank, clearly startled and traumatized. “Oh, Kat” Gavin murmurs, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend.

Sam maneuvers himself around them, opening the large door further to get past them into the room. He comes back out not even a minute later shaking his head, whatever spirit was in there isn’t anymore.

“One thirty-seven.” Kay says suddenly, wiping away her teary eyes.

“Sorry?” Dean looks at her, puzzled.

“It whispered in my ear. 137.” She clarified.

“Room number.” The boys and I said in sync, our eyes wide in clarity.

“Jinx” I say quickly pointing towards the boys. Dean groans, “You always win.”

I beam, looking up at him, “You just always forget.”

“Yeah cause he’s actually focused on the hunt” Sam quipped, annoyed. “Hey I am foc-“ I try to defend only getting cut off by Sam nudging Dean and I down the hall out of hearing reach throwing a “Excuse us” to the two teens.

“Alright. So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone…” Sam starts getting his sentence finished by his brother, “Then what are they trying to do?”

“Maybe they're helping us out” I shrug, “Giving us hints?”

“I guess we'll find out.” Dean huffs.

“Alright.” Sam confirms, nothing more to be said.

Dean separates from our little huddle calling out to the kids waiting on us, “So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?”

“That's an understatement.” Kat remarks.

“Okay.” He turns back to us, “Sam you get them outta here. Y/N were going to go find room 137.”

“Isn’t it best that I go with Sam?, make sure they can get out” I ask, not to say that I don’t want to go with Dean but still trying to be reasonable.

“If the spirits suddenly decide to get rowdy and gang up on me like they did Doc, I’d want you on my side” Dean answers, making a motion with his hands weirdly that I suppose is meant to represent my abilities. “Ok fair enough” I shrug, not needing any more convincing. Sam moves away towards Kat and Gavin. Dean and I waited until they were out of sight, getting led by Sam, before moving to find room 137.

We only move a few feet when I notice the lack of something in Dean's hand, “What happened to your flashlight?” I ask. He pulls back the side of his grayish-blue button down jacket exposing the thick flashlight tucked into his jeans, “Died jus’ before Kat got dragged into that room” he explains. I reluctantly drag my eyes back up to his face, a flashlight held in his jeans shouldn't have been hot, I give him a single awkward nod before forcing my eyes back in front of me.

“I think it’s down this way” He nudges my arm just as we get to the end of the long hallway, pointing left. I point my flashlight in that direction, the light illuminating the continuous mess of the asylum, “How do you know?” I ask. He shrugs, “Intuition.” I followed him down the hall even under the weak assumption, there were hardly any sign indicators and if there were they were unreadable due to destruction or graffiti.

I give him a look as we walk the hall, not finding the room. “I meant the next one over” he says with a stupid smile on his face. “Oh yeah of course” I nod, playing into whatever you want to call this.

He mumbles the room number underneath his breath, an excited-nervous energy surrounding him as we approach the supposed right hallway. It was adorable.

“Look who was right.” He says, his voice coming from behind me. I turn towards him an even bigger smile on his face, I lift my flashlight to shine where the number would be. “Let’s just hope the ghost wasn’t tricking us” I huff.

He goes to push the door open only to find it stuck on something, he grunts putting more of his body weight on the door until it’s open enough to let us through. The room is a mess (but what else is new for this place), filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained with something that I think I’d rather not know. I shine the flashlight around going over to one of the filing cabinets opening it to find manila folders, I flick through them. More patient files but nothing of use as of now.

I whirl around to find Dean crouched down in the back of the room, prying off a wooden panel. He finally gets it off with a loud cracking noise, “This is why I get paid the big bucks.” he murmurs, the only indication that he found something. “You don’t get paid any bucks” I responded.

He turns his head slowly to me in offense holding up a deteriorating satchel in one hand and a mess of papers in the other. He gets up handing me the stack of papers and with his foot drags up a nearby chair scooting it close for me before dragging up one for himself. I go through my stack, a bunch of drawn images of medical instruments like lobotomy pick, straight jackets and cuffs, and other drawings with no labels but incredibly detailed writing and drawings that were nothing more than torture. “This feels like a messed up book club” I comment.

“Yeah check this out. Dr. here believed that provoking extreme anger would be therapeutic.” He explains, “Seems like all he ever did was work on this theory.”

“I think I read a research paper from 2002 on a similar idea called catharsis” I explain, “It basically means venting out negative emotions, especially anger. However researchers found it did the opposite and more likely increased aggression. But I guess in this case he was forcing it rather than the patients venting out anger they had from past traumas or anything of the sort.”

I know he is listening to my rant, his eyes moving up from the book to look at me before going back to the journal, his eyes scrunched in concern at what he read, “All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy.”

I nearly laugh when a sudden creak comes from the hall, I look to Dean to find him with just as a confused face as mine. He had heard it too. He makes a “give me” motion so I hand over the papers, he puts them and the journal he read from back in the satchel. Without saying anything I knew he was moving us to check up on Sammy.

We manage our way back to the room Kat got locked into, but from there it winds up being a maze as to where Sammy could be. Lefts and rights and accidentally going in large circles. “Alright one more hallway and then we’re calling him” I plead, getting frustrated at this stupid musty asylum. “Deal” Dean nods.

The floor was particularly bad in this hall, each step followed by a creak each one louder then the next. Just as we reach the end of the hallway and turn right, for a split second, Kat stands there shotgun raised at us, her finger on the trigger. She shoots. Dean throws himself backwards, his arm going out right in front of me pushing me back against the corner wall out of the way from danger. Both of us were up against the wall next to each other, his arm just beneath my breasts holding me in place. A large puff of white smoke looking substance flies out from the wall, bits of the wall crumbling to the floor just by Dean's shoulder opposite to the one near me. Acting as the only signs of where the bullet had gone.

Our labored breaths nearly matched each other's, chests heaving. His arm remains where it is even when no more shots ring out, he yells, “Damn it, damn it, don’t shoot! It's us!!”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Kat meekly cries out.

“Jesus Chri-“ I peered around Dean's body at the shot, she would have killed us. Impressive. I bring a shaky hand up to the arm that still held me, he drops his arm allowing me to move past him and round the corner to the people who nearly ended us.

“What are you still doing here?! You're supposed to be gone! Also, why are you good with a gun?!” I exclaim. Dean immediately adding, “Where’s Sam?” Our rushed voices combining for a melody of pressured questions.

“He went to the basement. You called him.” Gavin answers, pointing to Dean. “I didn't call anybody.” Dean replies, looking at me confused I shrug not having any idea myself.

“His cell phone rang. He said it was you.” Kat elaborates.

“Basement, huh?” Dean hums before turning to me, “I’m gonna go to Sam, get them out of here.”

“Wait no I should come with you” I say.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart, just get them out of here” He orders, but his voice is soft where it should be commanding. He takes the gun from Kat and before I can say anything more he’s running off.

I turn towards the door, trying to think of the least suspicious way possible to open the door. A chain with a lock lies on the floor just in front of my feet. It must not just be a locked door, perhaps it is the spirits here keeping it closed. I pull on the door handle letting my powers seep into the large door willing it open. It opens with another pull, having to use a lot of strength to open the old door. “Alright let’s go” I say, turning to the two behind me. They look at me with a mix of shock and confusion, “How di-“ Gavin asks before I cut him off, “It was just jammed” I lie.

I follow them down the steps and watch them climb over the fence. I wait until I see them physically get into the car, both kids looking back almost hesitant to leave us behind. But I have no time to help with their guilty conscience, I turn back toward the building immediately running up the steps and back into the asylum. I curse not knowing which way Dean exactly went or where the hell the basement was let alone where a staircase was.

In the dim, haunting corridors of the abandoned asylum, panic pulses through me like a heartbeat. The suffocating air clings to my skin as I navigate the labyrinth that is this building. Every step feels like a hesitant dance with the unknown. I try to suppress the fear clawing at my throat, envisioning worst-case scenarios involving Sam and Dean. Could they be hurt, trapped, dead? My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, one that feels too overwhelming to control as pathetic as it sounds and feels.

Desperation fuels my movements as I sprint down seemingly endless hallways, each one a haunting replica of the last. It's a macabre maze, and my heart races with the urgency of finding the elusive staircase leading to the basement.

As I turn another corner, the harsh silence amplifies the echoes of my footsteps. "Sam! Dean!" I call out, my voice swallowed by the oppressive stillness. The only response is the distant moan of the decaying building. With determination fueling my every step, I press forward, driven by the desperate need to uncover the secrets hidden below. The dim light casts distorted shadows on peeling wallpaper, playing tricks on my eyes. Yet, I press on, the image of the elusive staircase driving me forward, my breath a rhythm of fear and determination.

As if the old building heard my pleas I spot a door just at the end of the hall, a medal bar for the handle and if it isn’t my eyes playing tricks on me then a small sign signifying a person walking up stairs lies on the small window on the door. I all but ran over, the thing I needed most lying right there. As I push open the door, anticipation and anxiety rests behind my rib cage, a reminder that finding the door wasn’t enough. I still needed to find them.

However, as the door creaks open, my heart sinks. Before me lies a staircase, but it ascends rather than descending. Everything that I do not need. I was being mocked. The staircase leading upward into the unknown when my every instinct demands a descent into the depths below.

I stand at the threshold, contemplating my next move. Panic threatens to resurface, but I force a deep breath, I know what I must do even when it is foreign to me. I had not trained in it, hadn’t studied it enough, so much of me was like that. So many abilities I could have and use but always dared to leave untouched, this being one of them. I knew only how to use it in such short distances, and only in spaces that I could see. Not like this.

But I’m afraid and desperate enough. I know the boys are very capable of taking care of themselves, yet an unmistakable fear lives behind my rib cage for those I love, a fear of losing them. I close my eyes. This staircase had to be close enough. My fear had to be enough. I force another deep breath, bracing my feet beneath me. I could picture the room around me even with my eyes sealed, focusing on how the walls stretched above me in my mind's eye.

I had not seen the basement, hadn’t a single idea what it even began to look like. Yet still I force my perception down, below the concrete laying underneath my shoes. But more than that I needed to find them, I try my best to picture them specifically even in an unknown location. The air seems to ripple around me, reality folding over itself.

I open my eyes, no longer in the stairwell but presumably in the basement. The only indication I’ve gone to the right place is the boy's only feet in front of me. What should be a triumphant moment is crushed under the scene in front of me.

Dean is on his back splayed across the floor, broken wall beneath him the concrete powder sticking to his clothes. Sam is standing over him, shotgun pointed down at his brother, I can not see his full face from here but I can see it is etched in anger. “Sam!” I yell, catching his attention. He turns to me, his face scrunched in disgust, he does not lower the gun.

“What the hell is hap-“ I try to ask but the gun goes off with a loud bang. Suddenly I’m in front of him, the bullets hitting the hall that laid behind me when I stood in the doorway. I teleported out of danger without a second's thought, I make a mental note for later as I punch Sammy square in the face, my knuckles hitting against his sharp jaw.

He stumbles back a few feet, my knuckles burn, he will have to forgive me later. I do not want to hurt him but I do need to stop him. I mumble a sorry, hooking my leg behind his, hitting into the back of his knee with my foot forcing his legs to collapse beneath him knocking him to his knees. I use his shock as leverage, easily pulling the gun from his hands, I point the gun at him even though I do not want to.

Dean groans still on the ground, only having leaned up from his position. Sam holds his hands up, “Shoot me” he spits. He was taunting me, testing me. “I have no need to” I answer calmly. He was possessed or influenced by the doctor here, this wasn’t really him, I knew that.

I hear Dean get up, panting and making small noises of pain. I look over at him from the corner of my eye, watching him hold just below his chest in pain, “You okay there?” I ask, earning a grumbled “yeah”. Dean drags himself to the front of the room where he must have dropped the duffle bag he was carrying.

In the corner of my eye I see Sam try to lunge towards me, I snap my attention back to him “Hey”,I warn, “Stop.” He looked even more pissed, his mouth twitching with words he wanted to say, “You think protecting him is gonna make him fall in love with you?” He says quietly. I check behind me but Dean makes no indication that he heard, I know it’s not really him speaking but the words still sting. “I’m not that diluted” I answered, turning back to him.

“You follow him around like a lost puppy, it’s pathetic” He laughs, “Really, you follow us around. But we don’t need you, we’d be better off without you. All you do is take up space.” The words bite into my skin, my heart suddenly feeling heavy. Losing my firm stance he grasps onto my ankle pulling it towards him sharply, knocking me on my ass hard. He punches me, his fist connecting with my nose, my eyes tearing up on its own accord with a harsh throbbing. He snatches the gun back when I hear movement towards us, without looking I shout back “I can take him, just find the body!”

Sam straddles my lap, his knees pinning my hands to the floor with an incredible amount of pain, and I can not pull my hands free. He grabs my chin roughly forcing my gaze on him, my neck leaning up at a weird angle, “You feel the need to be with us, it’s the only thing that fills the gap of being left behind your whole life.”

Hurt and anger burn my eyes. I move my face out of his hold and he lets me, I lean my head back before slamming it into his. The resounding clash of our heads echoed through the air, an abrupt collision that sent shockwaves of discomfort rippling through my skull. He loses slight balance, his knees leave my hands the feeling rushing back into them but I do not leave time for feelings of victory. I shove him back, using more force than I probably should have.

I stand up swiftly, stumbling over myself slightly, my head throbbing severely. “You” I point, breathing heavily, “Have a hard head.” He tries to reach for the gun but I kick it out of reach before he’s able to.

I knew Dean was close by even with the room being so large and divided, but I didn’t know how close he was to finishing up. There was a strong sense of dread in my stomach, I don’t want to fight anymore, maybe curl up into a ball and contemplate life but not fight. “Please, stay down” I beg, my eyes still teary from a mix of a reaction to the pain and just being upset.

He leans up, that horrible anger still etched on his face. I hold my hand up at him, extending my force outwards pinning him down with an invisible force. He struggles against it, his arms shaking. I grit my teeth, disgust tangling itself in my gut. Yes this was out of self defense and necessity but this wasn’t me. He was my friend, to restrain him in such a way…with my abilities…when I’m meant to help people.

I force my face away, a lump tight in my throat when I catch my reflection on a piece of broken glass in the far edge of the room. It was if I was being teased by the devil himself, staring at a reflection I wasn’t sure I even recognized. My eyes were fierce yet brimmed with tears, my pupils glowing purple. Where did this lie in morality? It felt wrong. So disgustingly wrong even if it was meant to be helpful.

Only a little longer, only until the remains were burnt and Sam was fine. “Y/N”

“Y/N!” He begs.

I turned my head back to him, the anger previously on his face melted away. I immediately release my hold on him, dropping my hand down swiftly. For a moment there it seemed fear had crossed his eyes, I took a step back lifting my hand to my forehead, a thin line of sweat wetting my face. My chest heaves, complete overwhelm filling my senses. I feel it in my bones this need to move, to get out. It had not taken anything out of me to hold him down, and that is what scared me the most.

Dean shuffles back into view, coming over and helping this brother up. When had he walked over here? I take another step back, their voices meshing together in a blob of incoherent sounds. A strong familiar hand grasps my upper arm, I look up at Dean, his eyes scrunched together in concern. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, but his voice seems so far away. I look over at Sam, a bruise already forming on his jaw a reminder of what I had done. I find no fear in his eyes any longer, not even as he rubs at the forming mark. I nod absent-mindedly at Dean's question, though it wasn’t true and he had known that too.

He gives my arm a firm squeeze before sliding it down slowly to my hand, intertwining our fingers together. I look up at him again, but his face is turned away already walking towards the duffel bag bringing me along with him. He doesn't say anything about holding my hand, not even as he leans down to the bag swinging it over the shoulder that is opposite to where I stand.

He leads the way out of the basement, Sam following behind us silently. I let him lead me, just staring down at our intertwined hands. His sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, ‘must have done that when he left us before. Holding hands wasn’t totally uncommon for us and we both happened to be touchy people, even so butterflies danced in my stomach.

When we finally reached the exit, the early morning sun had begun to shine through the clouds. Every one of our movements was done in silence, he let go of my hand only until we climbed back over the fence. The second both our feet had hit the ground he claimed it once more.

Just a short distance away Kat and Gavin lean against their car, my eyes scrunch in confusion. I thought they left. “What are you guys still doing here?” I call out from a few feet away. They analyze us, probably noticing the clear sign of a fight and who I’m holding hands with but I do not let go of his hand, and he makes no move to do so either. “We wanted to make sure you got out” Kat answers, crossing her arms across her chest, “And to say thank you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gavin adds in.

“No more haunted asylums, okay?” Dean replies. They nod and get in the car, this time starting it up.

“Hey, guys?” Sam says quietly as we begin to walk towards the Impala. He gets in front of us, walking backwards so we couldn’t ignore him, “I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there.”

I frown, not wanting to be reminded of something that happened only minutes ago. “You remember all that?” Dean scuffs.

“Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it.” He says making sure he directs it at both of us.

“You must believe it on some subconscious level…right?” I say. I do not mean to come off harsh or make him feel worse about himself, but he had to feel that way on some level. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and I suddenly feel bad for what I said, “No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?” He insists.

Reaching the Impala Dean unlocks the car, opening my door with his free hand but I make no moves of getting in just yet. He lets go of my hand, moving to the back of the car to throw in the duffel before rounding the rest of the car to the driver seat. Just before he gets in he answers his brother, venom clear on his tongue, “No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.” He slams the car door behind him.

I look over at Sam, total defeat written all over his face. I move past the car door moving right in front of Sam, he looked down at me expectantly. I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him. We will go to a motel and sleep the night off, and I don’t want to go to bed upset. His initial surprise wears off and he hugs me back, I pull away slightly. “You said mean things and I know you're sorry, but they still hurt… I’m not mad at you for thinking like that, I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt us.” I say softly, I don’t like being angry at someone or holding grudges.

His eyes are filled with desperate sorrow as he says, “I’m sorry.” He hugs me tightly adding a quiet, “thank you.” And I knew he had meant for just talking to him about it even if it was only a little and for not hating him. We pull away from each other, and he ruffles my hair like an annoying brother before getting in the Impala. I move past the open door again, this time getting in.

Even after a nice hot shower and being all cozied up in the motel bed, sleep still could not find me. I groan frustrated, switching positions for the upteenth time, glad that I had my own room so as to not wake anyone.

I shift again, moving onto my back, the memories of what happened earlier playing through my head on repeat. Whether Sam meant it or not he was right. They didn’t need me, they were more than capable by themselves. Maybe I should go back home.

I could call Adeline, ask her if she could pick me up from the airport and take me home. The plane ride wouldn’t be so bad, I just have to figure out how to get to the airport with no car of my own. But that thought upset me more. I’d go home and worry over the boys excessively, where they were, how they were doing, if they were safe or even alive, if they found their dad. Maybe I was a burden to them.

God. And what I did to Sam? To use my powers like that?! Though I guess before the whole fight the teleporting was quite impressive especially because I am not skilled in that.

I want to be the best, but I'm afraid of what that would mean. What I would become.

I shift again, my feet tangling under the heavy covers. I sit up letting the blankets fall to my waist, and without thinking I pick up my phone dialing in her number. I had no idea what time it was in New York City but I knew she didn’t care about that sort of thing, she would pick up regardless of time or what she was doing. The phone barely gets to ring for a third time when she answers, “Hey Addie…”

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