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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Prisoner's Game Pt. 3 (Rowaelin)

~Aelin~

There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.

It was the thrill, she supposed.

She'd always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.

Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn't give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she'd always been just a little bit vindictive.

Or maybe a lot.

The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.

It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.

While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.

Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.

It was also more exhausting.

It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.

It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.

She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.

The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.

It was no different tonight.

Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.

No one stopped her, no one questioned her.

When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.

Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.

The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.

Silent, efficient, traceless.

Just like she'd been taught.

Leaving was even easier than entering.

She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard's sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn't just committed a felony.

One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.

Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera's blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.

It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Plus, like she said: exciting.

~Rowan~

Doubt is a strange emotion.

It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it's there.

And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.

Rowan didn't believe in doubt.

His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it'd always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.

He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.

It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.

He convinced himself of the defendant's guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.

He hadn't always been that way, he didn't think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.

If he had to guess, he'd say it'd started two months after the day of Aelin's trial.

He hadn't been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He'd worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.

He'd given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn't find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn't one. Two months, and then he'd let it go.

He didn't regret stopping his hunt--he'd seen what an obsession could do to someone.

And when that day had come, he'd thought he was ready. He'd exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.

There'd been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner's reports... they'd all pointed to Aelin.

So eventually he'd forced himself to stop looking.

But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he'd never seen from her... he hadn't known how he could just forget something like that.

The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

So he'd hardened himself against it.

He'd repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.

Piece by piece, he'd swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.

And it had worked.

After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.

Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.

It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn't been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.

At first, he'd played it off as nerves from their conversation. She'd worked him up so much he'd admitted how much he'd once loved her and said things he shouldn't have.

His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he'd told her he'd fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.

At least that's what he told himself.

But four days later, he found himself on the couch--he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed--staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.

Because... well because what if she was telling the truth?

Why else would she have told him that story?

What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?

The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.

The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.

He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only he could find.

What did that mean?

And why couldn't he just let it go?

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.

Like a love-struck idiot, he'd kept a box full of the stuff she'd left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn't evidence, at least.

If it was something only he could find like she'd said, it was probably something only he had access to.

He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.

Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.

Especially when he'd barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.

Something about the way she'd looked at him after he'd told her he'd fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.

She'd seemed so... sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.

Hearing about her childhood and how she'd been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn't made it any better. Truthfully, it'd broken something inside of him.

She'd always been so positive around him--a ray of light he'd felt was put on this earth just for him.

And all the while, she'd been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.

He'd always known she hadn't had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn't even imagine the things she'd seen. Been forced to see, to do.

She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

But had she?

If what she'd told him was true, she'd killed those people because she'd been forced to.

It hadn't been her choice.

But there was something else about her, something he couldn't stop thinking about.

The secret she'd eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.

A secret she'd promised would explain everything.

He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.

Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.

You're such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It's been eight years.

Even if that part of their relationship was most definitely memorable.

"Jesus," he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He'd never forget the connection they'd had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.

But that was ridiculous, because he'd been connected to plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.

For some reason, he hadn't been able to date a blonde, but that didn't mean anything.

He was over her.

Obviously.

Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.

Her address book. Maybe she'd left a note in there?

He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin's address and phone number were there--both of which he confirmed with police records--but other than that, it was blank.

The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.

It was a travel brochure for Aruba.

The edges were frayed from how much she'd flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.

He remembered this, all right.

He'd woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.

"We're going to Aruba," she'd whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.

"Why?" he'd asked back between kisses.

"Because it's the perfect place to hide from your real life," had been her laughed response.

She'd planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.

Every time they saw each other, she'd shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.

In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he'd never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.

He'd hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he'd been excited, too.

He'd pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He'd imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.

He'd imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.

She'd been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.

He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.

The only thing left in the worn box was books.

Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she'd always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.

She'd given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the "real her," he had to read them.

A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.

He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.

When that didn't yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she'd written him.

March 1

Rowan,

I know you're not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you'll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth's character like I did.

Aelin

He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.

Why did he feel like something about this didn't add up? And why was this, of all things, what she'd left as a breadcrumb?

He didn't figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she'd written.

March 1st.

It was wrong; she'd given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he'd laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.

Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?

Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.

Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.

Breadcrumb.

He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.

Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.

April 13th was the day another victim died.

Rowan's heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.

What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she'd been talking about. It had to be.

He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?" he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he'd go blind, and tried to think like her.

Except her mind was a complex puzzle he'd never quite solved, so that didn't give him anything besides a headache.

He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.

But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.

It's the perfect place to hide from your real life.

The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.

Was that it?

Maybe the connection wasn't only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.

Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.

Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who'd help him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need a favor, Gavriel."

He heard a heavy sigh. "Like a we've been friends for twenty years favor or like an I'm the Chief of Police favor?"

"The latter," Rowan answered.

"Dammit, Rowan, you're going to get me fired one day." That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, "What do you need?"

"Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago."

Gavriel caught on quickly. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?"

"Of course not," he lied, knowing he was busted.

Another sigh. "You need to let this go, kid."

Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn't possible. Not when, for the first time since he'd been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you're chasing ends up to be yet another dead end."

Knowing he didn't have another choice, Rowan agreed.

Gavriel told him he'd send them over, then said softly, "I know you loved her, Rowan, but it's time to move on."

It's not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.

"Thanks for your help," he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.

A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.

Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.

There'd been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.

But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she'd flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.

Rowan's jaw damn near hit the floor.

His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim's name next to it to keep it straight in his head.

His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn't let himself think about anything except the next date.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.

And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.

He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he'd located every character, he was sure of what he'd found. What she'd left for him.

It wasn't a breadcrumb, it was the whole goddamn loaf.

Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.

He didn't have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.

Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues... it all made sense.

The doubt he'd been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.

She hadn't been lying.

She hadn't killed those ten people.

She couldn't have, because...

"They're still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dun dun duuuuun

part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I'm in summer school)

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @jorjy-jo @court-of-dreams-and-ashes @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @loudphantomdragon @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fandom

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Big Brother instinct, Dick and either Cass, Gar, Danny Chase, Steph, Kara, Rose, or anyone else u want

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dick grayson centric, Fire, Burns, hair styling, Ice Cream, Hurt/Comfort, Late Nights, Fluff and Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Missions Gone Wrong, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings Series: Part 11 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick talks with Cass after a mission doesn't go as planned.

Fic under cut

“Argh!” Dick snaps back to attention as Bruce’s angry grunt rattles through the cave. The few bats still in for the night stir, their wings rustling in the distance. An avalanche of papers fly off of Bruce’s desk, and his grizzled form slumps forward, hands firmly planted on the table. His shoulders sag under some unknown strain; as if he’s carrying the weight of the sky.

“Hmm.” Dick blinks back another wave of exhaustion, he’s not working on a case – but Bruce is – and company always makes working more fun. Besides, Bruce is on a time limit and Alfred can’t stop him from escaping his room. So. Here he is. He took an oath - it’s his job to help.

Dick’s eleven and Bruce’s a pillar of reassurance – a precariously stacked pile of rocks constantly on the verge of crumbling. He has no idea how to pick up the pieces. No idea how to seal the cracks. “Bruce?” He mumbles, swinging his legs off his spinny chair. Bruce doesn’t look up, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The ghost of tears well in his eyes. Not good.

Dick scoots off the chair, lightheaded for a moment. He shakes the stars out of his eyes, nodding back and forth, up and down, like Bruce does when he’s sleepy. It’s late. He has school tomorrow. Not that it matters. Bruce will let him skip if he asks the right way. He jogs in place for a few seconds, readying himself, warming up his muscles.

There’s not much he can do to help, but he can at least put on a little show. He runs forward launching into a cartwheel, picking up the papers as he goes – Bruce likes his tricks, sometimes they even make him laugh, sometimes –

Bruce snags his ankle out of the air, his quick reflexes saving Dick from crashing into the edge of a counter. He finds himself hanging, the world stuck upside down as his hands dangle inches from the floor. “Thanks.” He looks up at Bruce’s weary face.

A yawn escapes his lips, and the corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch. “I’m going to have to child-proof the cave at this rate.” He tries for humor but it falls flat, his hearts not in it all.

He stares up, sticking his tongue out. Bruce’s frown doesn’t fade. “Are you okay?” He asks. Bruce’s hands fumble, and Dick swings dangerously low to the floor before he’s recovered. Not willing to take the chance again, he curls up, grabbing Bruce’s forearms and pulls himself up through his arms, settling himself on sturdy shoulders.

Bruce drops his feet. “I’m fine. Why would ask that?” He sounds almost hurt and Dick’s too tired to figure out why.

He slides down easily, Bruce gently deposits him on the floor. “You looked sad.” A yawn leaves his mouth without permission, he stumbles slightly, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He reaches back up, and Bruce throws him up against his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

Dick yawns contently, his eyelids fluttering without his permission, as Bruce starts walking towards the stairs. “I’m sorry…” The arm around his back pulls him a bit tighter. “I’m just not enough.” A shaking hand combs through his hair and Dick squeezes back because he doesn’t know what to say.

Bruce grunts as he takes a step up the stairs. “Sleep on it?” Dick suggests, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Mmhmm. It’s bedtime.” Dick’s half asleep by the time they reach the top. He’s not sure he hears Bruce whisper, “You’re a great kid, chum.”

It took Dick years before he really understood the feeling. And even more years before he made the connection that that was how Bruce had felt on late nights spent scouring for clues that just didn’t seem to exist, having worked for days straight on three hours of sleep, and watching Gotham send all of it up in flames setting you back months on an investigation.

He’s learned there’s nights it’s impossible to save everyone – hell, he’s seen Clark get his ass kicked, and Clark’s damn near close to god. Dick would know – the Titans have fought their namesake. But the Titans have fought humans and lost despite half their members being godlike, and besides that most days now he’s alone. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, how much he plans, how prepared he is; sometimes things just go to hell and a handbasket and there’s nothing he can physically do to prevent it.

Most of the time, he’s fine with that. It’s fine he has limits. Logically, he knows he can’t be expected to everything. Logically, he knows it’s a waste of time to worry about it. Logically, he knows it’s okay to take a night off, watch a nature documentary, invite a friend over, stay in and spend the night simply existing.

But it feels like he could be doing more – should be doing more. He feels that restlessness overtake him, and springs to his feet “Bruce I-”

Bruce gives him his patented bat-glare from where he’s sitting, looking up from a familiar pile of papers. Once it would have intimidated him into sitting back down. Now he just returns it with a patented one of his own. “-I think I’ll suit up and head out for the night, Tim could probably use some back up with-”

“Dick.” There’s this exasperated tone that Bruce can only ever seem to muster when saying his name. He pauses for a just a second, his eyes flickering down to Bruce’s clenched fists and tight shoulders. “Let me handle it.” It comes out as an order, but reading between the lines, it’s a plea.

Bruce would never admit it out loud, worry practically bleeds out of the man. Guilt gnaws on the inside of his chest, though, he’s not sure what it’s even from; the guilt of making Bruce worry or the guilt of being a useless sack of broken and bruised ribs while people need Nightwing’s help. Being benched sucks, but he knows enough to compromise. “Let me run the comms? Babs could use a night off.” She sleeps less than him and Bruce knows it.

The gray streaks in Bruce’s hair stand out all the more as he lets out a bone deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes – he doesn’t get to do this right now. “You literally let me go out last night I don’t understand why-”

“Last night was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” His frown widens, his face etched in an eternal look of pain, mixed with disproval. “Two nights ago… you almost…” His mouth seals itself shut, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It’s Bruce that breaks the gaze first. “Run the comms, don’t overexert yourself. It should be a quiet night…” He stands, hesitates before walking off “And get to bed early.”

Dick bites back a laugh, Bruce hasn’t talked to him like that since he was thirteen. “Alright.” He resists the urge to poke fun, and follows Bruce through the passage behind the grandfather clock.

“So Ives was talking about the Pirates of the Caribbean movie with me the other day, and we might go see it this weekend if I have the time. Gee- I can’t remember the last time I saw movie in theaters or even really hung out with him.” Tim’s endless chatter helps him stay awake in the dimly lit cave. His throbbing ribs help too, maybe he shouldn’t have tried doing push-ups. “Dad and Dana want to drop me off, but Ives has a car now, though dad’s still worried cuz of the time some wacko tried to stop us at a traffic light.”

Dick hums, a smile creeping its way up his face. “I can drop you off if it’s an issue.”

“Really?! That’d be awesome, you could stay for the movie if you wanted to, but I don’t know if you’d like it, I mean are pirates really your thing? I always figured you’d be more into Vikings or probably aliens actually, or something like-” A red light flashes on the screen, and Dick snaps to attention.

“Hold that thought.” Tim’s chatter ceases immediately as Dick furiously types on the terminal. He punches into the main line. “Batgirl how fast can you get to the corner of 16th and Murphy’s Ave, there’s a building on fire and you’re the only one anywhere near the Upper East Side.” A 911 operator calms down a hysterical woman in his left ear, Cass asking direction in the right.

He pulls up a map. “I-I can’t find a way out!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know what happened, I was sleeping and-” she breaks off into raspy hacks.

“Go straight, turn right after three blocks down.” Dick winces, as the lady continues chocking on smoke. “C’mon Cass. Get there.” He mutters off the line. He eyes his cycle sitting idly in the bay – he’s twenty minutes out; Cass needs backup. He opens up another line. “Batman I need you to follow Batgirl, what’s your eta?”

Bruce grunts back, he hears thudding over the line. “Fifteen minutes.” The woman screams in his other ear, he yanks the earbud out as a massive bang nearly blows out his eardrum. Picking it back up, he can’t hear the woman anymore, only the roar of flames and falling debris.

“Shit.” He pulls up video from a street camera. “Shit.” The building’s collapsing in on itself. “Permission to call the league?” He clicks through to their line of communications, his finger hovering over the button.

“Here.” Cass scrambles into view, bursting through a window. Shit.

Bruce learned his limits long ago. Dick’s finally settling into his. Cass? They simply don’t register on her radar. The buildings coming down in mere minutes; she’s going to get killed.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce yells in his ear.

“Batgirl get out of there!” He screams at Cass. She’s going to die – the building’s not stable, and he’s the one that sent her there. “Make it five minutes – the building’s coming down.” He yells to Bruce. “Batgirl!” He watches a few windows blow out. A firetruck careens down the street.

“Permission granted.” Bruce huffs and Dick can’t click the button fast enough.

A couple more windows blow out, and the building seems to lean to the side. Finally he sees Cass climb back out a window, holding a couple kids in her arms as she leaps to the ground. “BATGIRL GET THEM CLEAR!” His heart pounds in his throat as she runs forwards, the building groaning behind her, crumbling to the side. Chaos erupts, chunks of flaming debris cascading from the top of the building, as the second floor merges with the first.

Dick blinks, his mouth dry. “There’s more people-” he can’t hear Cass over the ensuing cacophony as he watches the building topple to the ground. “NO!” He faintly hears her scream as the screen erupts in static.

Dick slams his fists on the desk. His chest constricts painfully. “Nightwing. Report.” Bruce’s steady voice reminds him to breathe. His chest spasms. Shit. “Nightwing!” Bruce demands as he tries to catch his breath.

“Building collapsed.” He manages to get out. “One sec.” He takes a few deep breaths, leaning back in the chair for support. “Batgirl report.” He’s greeted with silence. “Batgirl, please, if you’re there I need you to respond.”

“I…” Cass trials off. Dick sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.” The line cuts off. Well. Shit.

“Nightwing! I’m headed to the location.” Bruce squawks. Dick sighs.

“It’s going to be a long night. Search and rescue, I’ll call in backup.” Shit. So much for an early bedtime.

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder. He makes a grab for their wrist and misses, his mind processing where the hell he is. He blinks a few times.

“Cass?” Her hair’s plastered to the side of her head and she’s covered in soot. Nicks, rips, and tears decorate her costume. Dick wipes his eyes as the ashy smell of smoke overwhelms his senses. Cass takes a few steps back, heading towards the locker room. “Wait.” He had something to say to her, his mind racing to catch up.

She hops up onto a counter. His mind shuffles through the events earlier in the night. “Bruce sent you back?” Cass nods glumly. The rescue efforts weren’t going well when he dozed off. The JLA sent in everyone they could spare; there’s nothing they can do anymore. Not that Bruce won’t try.

Cass’s lips are sealed. There’s a haunting expression in her eyes, her shoulders slump forward, her hands firmly plant themselves on the counter for support.

And his friends think he’s too much like Bruce.

“Hey.” He starts. She gives him a weary look, tears welling in her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly like Bruce. “Look, I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Cass shakes her head. “Sometimes things like this happen. I should have-”

“Stop.” Cass pulls her feet up on the counter, getting dust everywhere. “I should have been faster.” She swallows, refusing to let the tears spill over. “My fault.”

Dick watches as she glides off the counter, yanking off her gloves and dropping them on the floor. Burn marks dot her hands and the edges of her hair are singed. “You did everything you could.” She hesitates, before taking a step towards the showers.

“Not enough.” She mutters before storming off, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

He stands up. “Cass.” The lock snaps shut with a click as she slips into the bathroom. Leaving Dick in an empty cave once more.

By the time he returns downstairs, Cass is already out of the shower, looking displeased. “You took my clothes.” She notes unhappily, a pale pink towel tucked tightly around her shoulders.

Dick watches water drip down from her hair, pattering on the floor. The trail leading back to the bathroom is now mixed with water and soot. Alfred’s going to be pissed. “I took your costume.” He clarifies. “And I brought you clothes.” He gestures towards the open door.

Cass scowls, planting her feet defiantly. “I’m going out.” She reaches out a hand. Dick shrugs – there’s no way she can find where he hid her filthy suit before they get a chance to wash it.

It’s all too familiar, reading the lines across her brow, watching her shoulders slump when she stills, and scanning red rimmed eyes. “What are you going to do like that?” He points out, Cass angrily storming towards him. “You’re tired, you’ll just end up being in the way.” He dodges left as a fist flies past his face. “You would have hit if I wasn’t right.” She’s faster than him on his best days.

She glares at him with pursed lips, staring before turning on her heel and storming off towards the bathroom. The door slams behind her, triggering the rustling of far away wings.

Dick sighs – he hopes he wasn’t this temperamental when he lived with Bruce. “Come up to the kitchen when you’re done, I need your help with something.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, though he feels a twinge of guilt as Cass groans behind closed doors.

Cass’s eyes widen as she enters the room. Dick offers a smile as she edges closer to the table. He tosses a spoon, she snags it out of the air. “Dig in.” There’s a carton of chocolate ice cream – double chocolate chunk brownie sundae with hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles to be precise – and tons of candy. It’s not stuff Bruce keeps around, but Dick’s has a stash at Tim’s house reserved for movie nights. He’ll restock later.

Cass vigorously stabs the ice cream with her spoon, a smile dancing across her face as she takes a few bites. She pauses, sticking the spoon back in the cartoon, looking up with a confused expression. “Why?” She’s wearing fluffy pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, and an old worn college sweatshirt that’s frayed at the hems. Dick can almost pretend he’s back, talking to Donna after she broke up with Roy their sophomore year of high school.

She’s watching Dick carefully. He hums casually. “You had a rough night.” This is what the Titans always did. She shrugs.

“Things happen.” She shovels a few more bites into her mouth. “I want to go out.” It’s hard for Dick to find her tough and grizzled when she’s guzzling gummi worms, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool.

“Consider this a reason to stay in.” She gives him a sideways glance. “You did as much as you can, that’s enough.” Cass looks pointedly at her ice cream, not hesitating before diving back into it.

“Spar with me?” She licks a skittle before sticking it in her mouth.

Dick snorts. “If I don’t have a heart attack, I think Bruce would.” She snaps up to attention, grabbing his wrist and quickly finding his pulse point. “I’m fine, Cass.” Her hands are freezing. He places one of his on top of hers. “If you weren’t there I wouldn’t have been.” He says quietly, catching her eye. “Thank you.” She pulls back as if burned, quickly busying herself with the candy. He waits a moment before adding, “I think those kids you saved are grateful too.”

Cass throws a bag of M&M’s at him, he’s a second too slow and it pelts him in the face. “Noted.” He grins. “Uh, also, I’m going to have to do something with your hair.”

“What.”

“Cass, hold still.” She immediately stops squirming under his hands. “Thanks.” She hums back, tucked under an old blanket that never seems to leave the back of the couch. Bruce still isn’t here, but Tim checked in after his stakeout, and headed home a half an hour ago. He snips away another lock of burnt hair, tossing it into a trash can next to him.

He rests his forearms on the back of the sofa, contemplating which section of her hair to start with next. “You find one you like yet?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder at the images of hairstyles.

“Uhh.” She scrolls a bit more. “I don’t care.” She tosses the phone up to the top of the couch.

“Mmm.” He didn’t expect much else. Donna texted him a picture earlier to copy – something easy to pull back but still stylish. He attacks the next section, carefully brushing out the tangles, starting bottom to the top. He’s oddly grateful for all those times he did Donna and Kory’s hair.

‘Practice for when Bruce finally adopts a girl.’ They used to tease. ‘You’ll have a real sister, and if his track record holds she’ll have black hair and blue eyes.’ He’s never lived the irony down. Though, Cass’s eyes are a beautiful warm brown, so Donna and Kory can take that.

“You know.” He keeps his tone light. “Most hairdressers and their clients talk.” Cass remains set in stony silence. “Though I guess most people go to a salon to get their hair cut.” He just visits Joey. “Some people say it’s like free therapy.”

“You talk a lot.” Cass notes. He pulls up doodle jump on his phone and passes it back to her. She plays a couple rounds before the phone’s placed back beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knows the answer, but still asks all the same.

“No.” Bruce never wanted to either. Barbara used to talk to him… before he left for the Titans and took years to look back. Though he likes to dream otherwise, he knows there’ll come a day when Tim won’t want to talk to him anymore either.

It doesn’t get any easier being shut out. “That’s alright. If you change your mind I’m here.” He grabs the shears, snipping away another dead end.

“Thanks.”

“Dick.” A hiss awakes him, light following soon after. He squints, turning away to bury his face in a cushion. “Where’s Cassandra?”

He turns, eyes snapping open as he quickly scans the sofa. The blanket hangs off the edge, Cass nowhere to be seen. One of her custom batarangs sticks out of his armchair’s armrest, a few inches from his hand. “She must have found her costume.” He notes, glancing towards the pajamas crumpled in the doorway. His eyes meet Bruce’s as he lets out a tired sigh.

His hair’s dripping, fresh from a shower, and it’s singed at the edges. Dick nods towards the sheers on the coffee table. “Tomorrow.” Bruce decides, crossing the room, picking up the blanket as he goes. Dick pushes down the footrest, slowly rising to his feet. His ribs twinge at every move, in hindsight, falling asleep hanging off the side of an armchair wasn’t his best idea. Bruce hovers closer than normal, watching carefully, worry lines set in concern. “Bed.”

Dick’s too tired to argue. “Bed.” He agrees. And though Bruce doesn’t carry him, he accompanies him up the stairs.

#bad things happen bingo #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #batfamily #nightwing #batgirl #my writing #sorry i've had this request for like 2 months but you know what we made it eventually 💀😅#thanks for the request anon!#i couldn't resist doing Cass but shout out to you remembering Danny Chase exists like dang iconic

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Arthur’s Angels Chapter 1: Meet the Angels

Pairings: Dean x Jayna Brandon (OFC), Sam x Maggie Parker (OFC). Other Characters: Gabriel, Arthur Ketch

Warnings: show-level violence

Word Count: 4900+

Authors Note: This started out as a birthday gift of sorts to my good friend, @MissyIsSassy1. Jayna is her character, so anything about her is Missy, while Maggie is my character, and anything about her is me. Don’t look at me, I just write stuff.

Summary: Jayna and Maggie are employed by the mysterious Arthur Ketch to hunt the supernatural. They have never met Mr. Ketch in person, and receive their assignments via speakerphone briefings. Still, they do their job, and they’re damn good at it. See what happens when their path crosses with the Winchesters.....

Author’s Note 2: I’m not sure how many parts this will have, I guess as many as people are willing to read. If you want to be tagged in this series or have any requests, please let me know. Thank you for reading, enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, weapons check?" Jayna said to her partner, Maggie. The two of them were on assignment, going up against a nest of vampires. No way that either of them wanted to be caught in a fight without adequate weapons support.

"Machete, freshly sharpened," Maggie said, patting her thigh holster. "Also have my .380, with a full clip of the ceramic rounds filled with dead man's blood," she confirmed. "You?" she asked.

Jayna gestured towards her back holster where she kept her always-sharpened machete. She tucked her 9mm pistol, also with the ceramic rounds, in the back waistband of her jeans. "So, how many did Gabriel say would be in this nest, anyway?" Jayna asked.

Maggie looked at the ramshackle house before them. "No more than ten, if I remember correctly. I figure we get in a few good swings and take out the first four or five vamps, which makes the rest of our job a bit more manageable," she explained.

Jayna shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me," she replied as they approached the front door of the run-down shack.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna Brandon and Maggie Parker were experts, recruited by the reclusive billionaire, Arthur Ketch, to hunt the supernatural. Each woman had her own reasons for becoming involved in hunting. Whether their motivation was a deep sense of duty or a desire to continue the family legacy, regardless, they trained relentlessly. For that reason alone, they were considered to be two of the best female hunters in the world.

Rumors had circulated that Mr. Ketch once had ties to the former British Men of Letters, a secret organization from the 1950's. Their purpose was to investigate and hunt the supernatural, like vampires, werewolves and shapeshifters.

About three years ago, the weapons locker was raided and cleared out, then the organization was mysteriously disbanded. All of their technically superior weaponry was said to now be under the control of an unknown entity. Some even suggested that Mr. Ketch himself may have been the one to take possession of this futuristic firepower.

Working alongside Jayna and Maggie was Gabriel. He mostly worked behind the scenes, researching cases and providing tech support and even transportation if necessary. Sometimes he went out in the field, if the case involved posing as a couple to complete the mission. Gabriel could be a bit mischievous at times, but he was always there for Jayna and Maggie when they needed him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna slowly and carefully eased the front door open. She didn't want any squeaks or whines from the aging hinges to ruin the element of surprise. As they approached the living room area, a vamp was entering the room from Jayna's left. She swung her machete and sliced the head clean off the body, both hitting the floor with a thump. Another one came in from Maggie's right, but she was ready. Her machete sliced through the vamp's neck like a hot knife through butter.

After they cleared the top floor of all five vampires, that only left the remaining five, most likely in the basement. The ladies knew they had to be careful, because there may also be potential victims to rescue. Jayna signaled to Maggie that the door in front of her led to the basement. Maggie nodded and drew open the door, which fortunately opened without a creak.

The women slowly descended the stairs, pausing every so often to make sure nothing had disturbed the vampires. They appeared to be sleeping in some sort of sling or hammock, with the ends secured around an exposed beam in the ceiling.

Jayna counted and signaled to Maggie that there were only four more to clear out the nest. Maggie nodded and motioned that she was going to go check for victims. Jayna nodded her assent as she continued to survey their environment, always keeping an eye out for an exit.

Maggie found six victims, only three of whom were still alive. She disconnected the IV that was drawing the blood out of the first two and tied a piece of her shirt over it like a bandage. The couple looked like they were high school sweethearts, a quarterback and his cheerleader. Must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, is all. They didn't look like they'd lost too much blood, so she told them to go and wait for her and Jayna under the stairs.

Something seemed to be a little off with the third captive, though. Maggie looked her over for injuries, but didn't find any. She started walking towards the stairs, thinking the other captive would follow her. Maggie caught the horrified look in the eyes of the cheerleader as she gestured to the last captive. Maggie turned around in time to see the last victim charging at her, knocking her over. She had been turned, and she had decided that Maggie was to be her first kill.

Jayna ran over and knocked the girl to the ground, only to have her quickly get back up. Jayna gripped her machete with both hands and made a clean slice, taking off her head. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Jay," she whispered.

"Anytime," Jayna said, then turned her attention to the remaining cluster of vamps, who were starting to stir in their bunks. "Uh-oh, looks like that was just the wake-up call," Jayna quipped. "Time to take care of business," she remarked.

Two vamps went after Maggie, while the other two went after Jayna. They each took the first one out easily, but the last two were starting to get the upper hand. The one attacking Jayna had her pinned to the ground and kept trying to take a bite at her neck.

The impact of hitting the floor caused her machete to drop from her hand. Jayna brought her leg up and shoved the vamp away from her, then drew her pistol. She shot a couple of ceramic rounds into its upper chest, and the vamp went down, paralyzed for the moment. Jayna completed the kill as she cleaved its head from the body.

Maggie's vamp seemed a lot more determined, most likely the leader of his nest. He had her pinned to the wall to where she couldn't raise her arms to swing the blade. "Do you think you two hunters can just waltz in here, kill my family and take what's mine?!?" he thundered. His forearm was pressed up against Maggie's neck. He pressed hard, holding her against the wall and threatening her air supply.

Just before Maggie nearly blacked out from lack of oxygen, she heard Jayna shout to get the vamp's attention. He turned his head towards Jayna, which was his last and fatal mistake. Her machete quickly and cleanly separated his head from his body and the fight was over.

"Thanks again, Jay. Really saved my ass this time," Maggie huffed, still trying to catch her breath.

"You can save my ass next time," Jayna chuckled. "Let's get these survivors topside and out of this house. You okay to lead us out of here?" she asked.

Maggie nodded, then paused as she heard footsteps approaching their position. Maggie pointed upward, and motioned to Jayna and the couple to keep quiet. When the intruders hit the last step, Jayna and Maggie stepped out of the shadows, weapons drawn, and yelled "Freeze!"

The newcomers also had weapons that they trained on Jayna and Maggie, at least until they saw the collection of headless bodies on the floor. The man closest to Jayna had piercing green eyes, spiky hair and slightly bowed legs. He re-engaged the safety on his weapon, but still felt the need to keep it pointed in Jayna's direction.

"One question. Who are you and what the hell are you doing on our hunt?" he demanded.

"Your hunt? Excuse me, but this is our case, bud," Jayna retorted. "We should be asking 'who are you and what the hell are you doing on our hunt'," she sassed.

"Name's Dean Winchester, sweetheart," he smirked. Gesturing to the tall, shaggy haired man to his right, "And this one here is my brother, Sam Winchester," he explained.

Jayna and Maggie looked at each other and realized that the newcomers were not a threat. They reengaged the safety on their weapons and tucked them in the back waistband of their jeans. Sam and Dean, having decided that Jayna and Maggie weren't a threat either, did the same.

"Well, boys, now that we've made our introductions, we must be going. Got to get the survivors some medical attention, so they can go back home to their families," Maggie said. She started to climb the stairs and motioned for the survivors to come out of hiding and follow her to the car.

Jayna turned to leave as well, but before she did, she caught Dean's eye. "You guys will clean up, right? Been a slice," she said as she winked and gave him a mock salute. She followed Maggie up the stairs, grinning to herself all the way.

Sam and Dean both looked at each other. "What the hell just happened?" Dean thundered. "How did we get stuck with the clean-up?" he growled.

Shaking his head, Sam chuckled. "Come on, Dean. Let's get to work," he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna and Maggie dropped off the survivors at a local hospital to receive medical attention, then provided Gabriel with their final report. Gabe was impressed that the girls had finished the job in record time and managed to save two civilians. He said they had earned some time off, so they decided to find a diner to get something to eat.

On the way to the diner, they talked about meeting the infamous Winchesters.

"So what did you think of them?" Maggie asked.

"Well, Dean is certainly the one in charge," Jayna observed. "Talks a lot, and if I'm being honest...." she trailed off.

"Yeah?" Maggie prompted, dying to hear how Jayna was going to finish her thought.

"It's not so much his words, Mags. I swear, though, his voice is just the right frequency to set off my internal tuning fork. And I mean in the best way," she remarked as they busted out laughing. "What about you?" she asked.

"I dunno. Sam seemed content to let Dean run the show, but I think that only means one thing. The man is a tiger that isn't going to want to be caged forever by his big brother. And when he gets loose, whoo boy! Someone's in for a wild night," Maggie finished.

When Jayna pulled into the parking lot, they couldn't help but notice the gorgeous, black 1967 Chevy Impala parked outside.

"Is that--" Maggie started.

"Couldn't be. Then again--" Jayna mused. "Let's just go in, we don't have to sit with them if they're in there," she replied.

Maggie shrugged and held the door open for Jayna, then followed her into the diner. They scanned the area for the Winchesters, knowing it had to be their car outside. Jayna spotted Sam and Dean sitting in a corner booth off to her right. She elbowed Maggie to get her attention and directed it towards where the Winchesters were sitting, bringing a smile to Maggie's face.

The girls looked at each other as if to ask, "Should we join them or ignore them?". One look between them had them thinking back to the conversation they had in the car. They nearly broke out into laughter again at the memory, but managed to hold it together.

Jayna and Maggie sauntered over to the boys' table, each swaying their hips a little in case Sam and Dean were watching. Maggie reached them first and cleared her throat a little to get their attention.

"Excuse us, gents, but are these seats taken?" Maggie asked, locking eyes with Sam.

Before his brother could answer, Sam jumped in and said, "No, not at all, please join us," he grinned. He scooted over to make room, while Dean rolled his eyes but made room for Jayna to slide in.

"You ladies hungry? Here, take a look, if you'd like to choose something," Dean remarked, handing over his menu.

The waitress came back to their table and noticed that two more guests had joined the table. Jayna and Maggie ordered their drinks, then everyone gave their food order. Dean ordered his classic bacon cheeseburger with fries, Sam requested a salad. Jayna went for the pot roast dinner, while Maggie ordered a Reuben sandwich with chips.

Jayna fidgeted with her napkin before speaking. "So, I think maybe we might have gotten off on the wrong foot with you guys," she started. "Comes from years of having to work twice as hard as female hunters to prove ourselves in a male-dominated profession," she explained.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Dean replied. "I'm rather impressed, just the two of you taking out a nest of ten vamps. That's not easy, even for a couple of guys like us," Dean said. "I just hope we didn't come across as macho jerks."

"Nope, nothing to fear there, Dean. And thanks for cleaning up, by the way," Jayna added. "I can tell, though, that you're used to being the one in charge, the leader. Hope it's not too intimidating that I'm a bit like that as well," Jayna said as she locked eyes with Dean.

Dean slowly shook his head. "Just so you know, though," he added, leaning towards Jayna's ear. "I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it," he added huskily as he ran his index finger along her jawline.

Jayna internally shivered, not only at the closeness of his lips to her ear, but at that damn sexy voice of his. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of his plump lips. She wondered if she'd ever find out if they were as soft as they appeared to be. Jayna looked over at Maggie, who was too deep in conversation with Sam to notice any distress her friend may be under.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Across the table....

"So, what kinds of things are you into, Sam? You know, what do you like to do when you're not hunting?" Maggie asked a little nervously.

"Mostly, I do the research for the two of us. Dean's the 'action guy', I'm the 'book nerd'," Sam replied. "I'm a big fan of sci-fi, especially Star Wars and I've read all of the 'Harry Potter' books. Also, I have what some people would call a weird obsession with reading about serial killers," he chuckled. "What about you?" he inquired.

"Well, first of all, nothing wrong with being into books. I, too, have read all of the 'Harry Potter' books, but I like a good spy thriller once in awhile. I don't mind Star Wars, but I'm more into Star Trek. It's kind of a requirement, since I'm from Iowa," she grinned. "My weird thing has to do with how easily I can learn a foreign language. Mostly reading, not necessarily speaking them, though," she finished.

Sam's hazel eyes locked on to Maggie's as he spoke. "Star Trek, hmm? I can just hear the kind of heated sci-fi debates we'd get into. And I can't stop wondering about the sexy things you might say in another language. 'Specially when you get all riled up," he gently teased.

Sam reached over and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind Maggie's ear and grinned when he heard the slight hitch in her breathing. Fortunately for Maggie, the waitress arrived with their meals, saving her from doing anything embarrassing about her growing attraction to Sam.

After dinner was finished, the four went out to their respective cars, but neither driver seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Conversations were had about what to do with the rest of the evening, and whether that would include any members of the opposite sex.

Dean broke the stalemate by inviting Jayna and Maggie back to their room for a drink and possibly a movie. He mentioned the name of the motel, which prompted the girls to invite Sam and Dean back to their room instead. When Jayna explained that their employer was able to provide a bit nicer and separate accommodations, the boys instantly agreed.

Jayna and Maggie followed the boys back to their motel so they could grab a change of clothes for the night. While they waited, Maggie took the opportunity to voice her doubts to Jayna.

"Are you sure we should be doing this, Jay? I mean, inviting them back to our hotel? We hardly know anything about them, other than what we've heard from other hunters," Maggie pointed out.

"That's the point, Mags," Jayna answered. "We spend time with them, get to know them better. Besides, I saw you and Sam 'sparking' over in your corner of the booth," she teased.

Maggie scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I saw plenty of 'sparks' going between you and Dean on your side of the booth, Jay," she retorted.

Jayna shrugged. "If you're waiting for me to deny everything, you're going to have a long wait, dearie. It's that voice of his, like it has a tractor beam and it's pulling me in! Not that I'm complaining, mind you," she laughed.

Maggie joined in on the laughter. "I think I was right about Sam, too. You know, about him being a tiger and to be careful if he ever gets unleashed from his cage," she remarked. "He mentioned how fun it would be to debate me on sci-fi topics. And, about riling me up so I say naughty things in other languages," Maggie giggled.

At that moment, Sam and Dean emerged from their motel room, each carrying a bag. They turned to look at Jayna and Maggie in their car, smiled, waved then got into the Impala. Around 15 minutes later, they had arrived at the RedStar Hotel, where the girls were staying.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Dean exited the Impala and examined their surroundings. This hotel was much nicer than anything they'd ever stayed in, except when on the werewolf case with Mick Davies. "Well, ladies, I have to say, these are some fancy digs," Dean remarked. "Not your usual hunters' accommodations," he added.

"Courtesy of our employer, whose name shall remain anonymous," Jayna quipped. "This is just the lobby. Shall we head up to my room first, then decide how best to spend the rest of the evening?" she asked.

Maggie and the boys nodded their assent as they made their way over to the bank of elevators. "Room 516 is mine, 519 is Maggie's room," Jayna explained. She pulled her key card out of her pocket and opened the door.

The room was equipped with a king sized bed, a recliner in the corner, a 55-inch flat screen TV and a desk where Jayna's laptop rested. "Come on in everyone," Jayna said as she threw her car keys on the desk. From her bag, she produced a bottle of whiskey and proceeded to pour two fingers for everyone.

When everyone had a drink in hand, Maggie raised hers a little. "I propose a toast: to a successful hunt and to new friends," she declared. Everyone repeated the toast and clinked their glasses together. Maggie made eye contact with Sam when their glasses connected, trying to determine what kind of mood he was in. She also wanted to see when may be a good time for them to make a break for her room to be alone.

Someone produced a deck of cards and from that, several rounds of Truth or Dare Go-Fish were played. The whiskey continued to flow, and as a consequence, the participants got a little sillier with each round. After about the seventh round, Jayna looked at Maggie. From all their years hunting together, Maggie knew from the look on Jayna's face that it was time for her and Sam to go.

"Hey, Sam, I heard there's a Star Wars marathon on TV. I know these two are probably not interested, so how about we head over to my room so we won't bother them?" Maggie suggested.

A knowing smirk crossed Sam's face. "Fine by me, as long as you don't mind that I quote the dialogue as the movie plays," he grinned.

"So much the better, I'll even play along," Maggie replied. She held out her hand, which Sam took in his and intertwined their fingers.

"Have fun, kids," Dean called after them. Upon hearing the door latch engage, a hungry look settled in Dean's eyes. He walked over to the table where Jayna was putting the deck of cards back in the box.

Dean approached Jayna while her back was to him. He reached for her hand to make her turn around and face him. He reached up with his right hand to cup her face. "So," he remarked softly, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"So," Jayna whispered. She placed her palms on his chest and slid them upwards until her hands were clasped behind his neck.

As her fingertips grazed the hairs at the base of his neck, Dean dove in and captured Jayna's lips with his own. His free hand roamed up and down Jayna's back, causing a small moan to escape from her mouth. When the need to breathe became too great, the kiss was broken, leaving Dean and Jayna panting.

"Whoa," Dean whispered. "That was amazing," he remarked.

"Agreed. I've been wanting to do that since the diner," Jayna gushed. "How's about we try that again?" she suggested.

"As you wish, sweetheart," Dean replied as his mouth slammed back to Jayna's with a need that he knew only she could satisfy. "So beautiful," Dean murmured against her lips.

Jayna brought her hands down so that they were inside his flannel shirt. Within seconds, she was pushing his outer shirt off of his shoulders and was reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. Dean gently pried it from her fingertips and eased it up and over his head. The sight of his bare chest caused a hitch in her breathing, which did not escape Dean's notice.

Dean toyed with the hem of Jayna's T-shirt, causing her to look down at his hands. He hooked one finger under her chin and tilted it upwards to meet her eyes. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

Jayna nodded. "I'm sure, Dean," she answered. That was all the permission Dean needed to relieve Jayna of her shirt, leaving her in a lacy pink bra. A look of admiration crossed Dean's Greek god-like features and Jayna had never felt more treasured.

One by one, pieces of clothing disappeared until there was nothing left between them. Dean and Jayna found themselves under the blankets of the expansive king-sized bed. They took turns giving and receiving pleasure in the form of hot kisses and exploratory touches. As the two of them moved together, layer upon layer of passion was built. Each one higher than the last, until they both found their release.

As Dean and Jayna's heart rates slowly returned to normal, Jayna scooted towards Dean. He snaked his right arm around her to hold her close to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and her right hand flat on his chest. "Mmm, Dean that was incredible," she murmured, her eyelids feeling heavy.

Dean leaned over and pressed his lips to Jayna's forehead. "It really was, sweetheart. Incredible," he mumbled against her skin. He felt his own eyelids fighting to stay open as well. "Sweet dreams, baby girl," Dean whispered before completely giving in to his need for sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, the couples met in the hotel's dining facility for the breakfast buffet. Jayna noticed that Maggie and Sam looked pretty cozy going through the line. Always finding a reason to touch each other, or for one to grab the other's hand. Hmm, her night must have gone as well as mine did, Jayna thought with a smile. We should have lots to talk about on the drive back to HQ, she silently added.

"Morning, beautiful," Dean rumbled huskily in Jayna's ear. His stubbled cheek tickled her ear, causing her to giggle, which also brought a smile to Dean's face.

"Morning, handsome," she replied as soon as she had regained her composure.

Back at the table, everyone exchanged phone numbers. If either team needed help or wanted to talk to someone, they now had a way of contacting each other.

All too soon, it was time for the hunter teams to go their separate ways. Dean and Jayna were standing by her car, exchanging good-bye hugs and slow, luxurious kisses.

Over by the Impala, Maggie and Sam were saying their good-byes. "I had a wonderful time with you, Sam. You're smart, caring and a bit of a romantic if I may say. But you also have a very sexy wild side to you that I love just as much," Maggie remarked.

"And you, ma chérie, are sweet, kind and maybe a bit too sassy for your own good," Sam grinned. He tapped the end of Maggie's nose as she pouted. "But I would love to see you again sometime, ma belle fleur," he said softly.

A shy smile returned to Maggie's face. "I would like that as well, mon chéri," Maggie replied. She slid her hands up the length of Sam's chest and rested them on his shoulders. Without much encouragement needed, she pulled him down until their lips met in a fiery, passionate kiss.

When they broke apart, Sam brushed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek. "See you soon, darlin'," he said softly.

"Bye, Sam. Call if you need anything, or want to talk," Maggie responded.

"I will," he promised as Maggie walked away to where Jayna was waiting. Maggie wished Dean a safe trip home as he passed her on the way to his car. She heard the Impala roar to life and just like that, Sam and Dean were gone.

Before Maggie opened the passenger door of the car, Jayna asked, "So, how did it go with you and Sam last night?"

Maggie paused before looking Jayna directly in the eye. "Rawr," she said, then both women burst into laughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at headquarters, Gabriel expressed how happy he was to see them. Although he didn't press for details, he could tell that both women had had an enjoyable past 24 hours. "Briefing in 15 minutes, ladies!" Gabriel called out.

They didn't have time to do much of anything before the meeting, except freshen up their hair and splash some water on their faces. Unpacking, laundry and a shower would have to wait until after the meeting.

About ten minutes later, Jayna and Maggie entered the conference room and took their usual places. A conference call-style phone with a large speaker was in the middle of the table. The meeting started precisely at 11:00 am, with a call from their employer, Arthur Ketch.

"Good morning, Angels. I understand the vampire hunt went as planned, even saved two of the victims," Ketch remarked.

"Yes, sir," Jayna and Maggie responded in unison.

"Well done. Your next assignment will be for the recovery of a cursed object. The setting is a high-society party to which only couples have been invited. This will therefore be an undercover assignment," Ketch explained.

Jayna and Maggie looked at each other in silent communication. Winchesters? they asked each other. Jayna pointed out that while Gabriel usually fills in on these "undercover couple" assignments, that leaves Maggie without a partner.

"Sir, we need both myself and Maggie for this mission. We met a pair of hunters on our last case that would be perfect for this assignment. That would enable us full use of the team, and Gabriel could still act in a support capacity," Jayna finished.

Silence reigned on the other end of the line while the idea was considered. "How easy would it be to contact this 'pair of hunters' you met?" Ketch asked.

"We exchanged contact information before we left them, sir. Only a matter of picking up the phone and calling them," Maggie answered.

"Very well, make contact and inform Gabriel of their decision. I have confidence in you, Angels," Ketch concluded before the call disconnected.

"I never get to do anything fun," Gabriel grumbled. "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride."

"Aw, come on, Gabriel. You know we wouldn't be anywhere without you," Jayna teased, tapping the end of Gabe's nose.

"You bet your sweet asses you wouldn't," he grumbled. "Go on, make your 'booty call' so I can let Arthur know whether this is a go or no-go situation," he muttered.

"It's not a 'booty call', Gabe," Jayna retorted as she scrolled through her contacts, then pressed the one she wanted.

"Hey, Dean? It's Jayna. Got a question for you: Can you and Sam get your hands on a couple of tuxedos? We have a little undercover mission, and it would really help us out if you could join Maggie and me," she finished.

A broad smile spread across her face. "Fabulous. I'll email you the details. And Dean? Can't wait to see you again. Over and out," Jayna concluded softly then disconnected the call. "Hey, Maggie? How would you like to see Sam again?" she called out as she walked down the hall to her room. She giggled as she heard a shriek of happiness from Maggie's room.

Tags: @swiftlymoniquesblog @miss-nerd95 @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @lyarr24 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jawritter @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride @wayward-mikaelson @yourelivingwrong @gabrielslittleangel @jessica-noel94

#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x ofc #sam x ofc #spn #ketch #arthur ketch #ArthursAngelsSeries #winchesters x ofc

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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I know this won't all fit in one ask so here goes! Haha! Okay so plus size reader x jaskier. With some jealous jaskier. And he's jealous because reader and geralt are pretty good friends, but thats not why he's jealous, he's jealous because he keeps walking in on them at the worst times and they keep finding themselves in like really odd situations that can be read as sexual when they are NOT EVEN CLOSE TO THAT AT ALL and jaskier just keeps walking in at THEE worst time. Reader has been in 1/?

Love with jaskier for years, they’re close, she’s shy so now he’s like how come Geralt gets to have all this closeness & not me. So he kind of pulls away & maybe starts mumbling to himself when they’re all together & so finally she asks him whats wrong & he’s like very short with her & meaner than he means to be about her & geralt. & she is accidentally like “i’m not in love with him. fucks sake Jaskier ive been in love YOU for years!” & storms off & then reconciliation? THANK YOU!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,470Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the prompt!

One of the greatest mysteries in Jaskier’s many-storied life was how Geralt consistently surrounded himself with gorgeous women.

Despite how frustrating and downright scary he found her, Jaskier would never deny Yennefer’s beauty. From the stories he’d heard Renfri was also lovely, as was the sorceress Triss Merigold. The warriors who had accompanied them up the mountain were gorgeous with their long necks and strong physiques. Yet all of them had eyes for Geralt and Geralt alone. This continued when it came to you. Geralt had introduced you to Jaskier as a long-time friend but Jaskier knew better. Geralt would be a fool to resist a woman of your charms and you were clearly smitten with him. Jaskier was ecstatic when you joined them on their travels but as his feelings for you deepened, so did his agony.

He would write songs about your beauty only to throw them away when he found you snuggled up on Geralt’s lap before the fire. One time he had walked in on you bent over a table, Geralt right behind you, and you’d tried to say that it ‘wasn’t what it looked like’ and Geralt was ‘just massaging a pulled muscle’ but Jaskier was the first to know those mistakes were all nonsense. He’d “massaged” plenty of “pulled muscles” in his day, thank you very much. There was one night where he thought, perhaps, he had a chance. It was bitterly cold and you’d suggested that you and him share a bedroll, cuddling together for warmth. He’d wrapped you up tight and he could’ve sworn he felt your heart skip a beat as he surreptitiously planted a kiss on your head. But when he woke up, Geralt had joined and you were draped across him. That was when he knew there was no point in trying anymore.

Sure, there were other things along the way that should have made this less devastating. You always gave Geralt long, tight hugs and with Jaskier you were brief and always seemed a bit reluctant or uncertain about touching. You’d casually make bawdy jokes with Geralt but whenever Jaskier made one you blushed or looked askance. Yes, it was clear what was going on here, it didn’t take a genius to see, but it still hurt Jaskier deeply and that hurt turned into outward dickishness.

You noticed that Jaskier grew colder. He didn’t sing songs to you anymore, not even to get your opinion as he wrote songs about the new muse he had, some woman whose beauty was as ample as her body and just as tempting. You envied this woman more than you could bear but you tried to appease yourself with his friendship. True, you were closer with Geralt, having met him long ago, but the real impediment between a close friendship with Jaskier was the feelings you held for him. You kept them tucked away in secret as you watched Jaskier flirt with everyone.

The mumbling was new, though. The coldness and the mumbling started one morning after you had gone to bed with him. Tragically not in a euphemistic way but genuinely curled up for warmth, nestled in his arms. You’d woken in the middle of the night with your teeth chattering, Jaskier even colder than you though fast asleep, and you had woken Geralt to come help you warm him and by the three of you combined you were able to provide enough warmth to sleep through the night. Sleeping next to Geralt was something you’d done a thousand times, you thought nothing of it. But the next morning Jaskier had begun to act strange. He hardly talked and he looked at you even less. When Geralt passed you a piece of bread you thought you heard Jaskier mumble something about ‘getting a piece’ but when you asked him he looked at you in confusion and you moved on. For a week now he’d been making little side comments, though, and you were just about at your limit. You hoped that staying at an inn may help his mood, that perhaps the hard travel was just weighing on him, and he did seem to perk up a bit at getting a warm meal but once Geralt excused himself to leave the mumbling started again.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Jaskier looked up and tried to give you an innocent expression but you were unimpressed.

“What are you talking about?” he countered.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every time Geralt talks to me you mutter something to yourself,” you insisted.

“Maybe I have to talk to myself because the only one you ever talk to is Geralt,” Jaskier grumbled.

“That’s just not true,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, sorry, my mistake,” Jaskier said, voice hard and sarcastic, “You don’t just talk to him. You also sleep on him and gods know what else when I’m not there. Hell, probably when I’m there too, not like you’d give a damn.”

Your eyes pricked with hot, angry tears and you rose from the table.

“Geralt is my friend. Unlike you. No friend would be so… mean,” you cried.

“I thought you liked mean guys after all, there’s Geralt and you can’t keep your hands off of him,” Jaskier snapped.

“Where the hell is this coming from? I’m not in love with Geralt. I haven’t been in love with anyone but you since we met but you’re so damned pigheaded and stuck in the clouds with your muse that you can’t see anything. Gods, Jaskier, I’ve always defended you when people said you were just some dumb bard but you’re not only daft, you’re cruel,” your voice cracked at the end of your words and you ran from the table towards the stables as swiftly as you could. Jaskier’s head spun as he took in everything that had just happened. He’d never intended to be so harsh, even if you were in love with Geralt it would give him no right to judge or hate you for it. But then you’d said that you loved him? Could such a miracle be true? And even if it was, had be cocked it all up beyond reason now?

Jaskier found you in the stables petting Roach and was grateful not to find you pouring your heart out to Geralt who would likely have murdered him on the spot for making his friend cry, as would be his right. When you saw him you glowered and turned your face back to the horse. Roach looked over at Jaskier and he would’ve sworn he saw disdain in her large, brown eyes.

“Y/N I’ve been an ass,” Jaskier said.

“Yes, you have,” you replied without turning around.

“Everything you said was right. I was mean and cruel and you didn’t deserve any of that,” he continued.

“Too right,” you said with a sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And I hope what I say now doesn’t make it worse,” he said. He saw you stiffen and then turn to face him. Your wet, red-rimmed eyes wrenched his heart. He’d fantasized about how he may confess his love to you countless times and in none of them had he made you cry. Not like this.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for years and I never told you because… not just because you seemed to close to Geralt – and I know! I know you’re friends!” he said quickly as you frowned and opened your mouth to protest, “But there was such a clear different between how you treated us. You didn’t joke with me as you did him and you seemed reluctant or uncomfortable touching me and I assumed it was because you… well that you didn’t like me. Much less love.”

Realization dawned on your face, as well as a little regret.

“Oh Jaskier… Of course I like you. That’s why I was so distant. I assumed you’d never feel for me the way I did for you and I think I was just trying to keep a safe distance to try and protect my heart. Which means I am also sort of stupid because obviously that ship had sailed,” you said with a rueful laugh.

“You’re not stupid,” Jaskier insisted, moving closer to you and daring to try and take your hand, encouraged when you let him, “Emotions are hard. Well, they’re not, but we make them hard. We humans are a ghastly species.”

“We are,” you agreed, nodding and moving a little closer.

“So,” Jaskier said, pale blue eyes gazing down into yours as you both crept ever so slowly closer, drawn like two magnets that have been held apart for too long, “What happens now?”

You answered him with a kiss.

#disasterjaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x plus size reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff #reader request

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drkcnry67 · 4 years

Text

Title: your demons are my darkness

Pairing: Dark!John x Demon blood!Sam x Reader/ eventual Dean x Reader

Kink: Gangbang

Dark: Dark!John

Heaven & Hell: Demon Blood!Sam

created for @spnkinkbingo @heavenandhellbingo @spndarkbingo

A/N: This will be a really tough thing for me to write again this is the territory that I seem to find my passion expanding more... Once more if you like this please give it a like and a reblog and if you have any questions or comments please feel free to send me a message.

Tags: forced vaginal penetration, forced anal penetration, screaming, crying, choking from gagging, magical mind melding sex, bad ass escape skills, forced oral sex, gagging, puking from gagging, impregnation, male dick in male ass

****THIS STORY IS 18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE... SERIOUSLY THIS WILL GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES... THIS IS PERHAPS THE DARKEST STORY I HAVE EVER WRITTEN!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED****

Kink masterlist. H&H masterlist. Dark masterlist.

You are a huntress, you had lived all over. While living in Greece several years ago you were walking in the countryside, you came across a temple.

Normally you weren't the religious type but today you felt drawn to the temple. You turned to the goddess Artemis for guidence.

Unbeknown to you at that moment that the actual goddess herself would come to speak with you in person.

Artemis: "child, you are blessed with a gift from the gods. I'm Artemis and I have heard your prayers my child. You have found favor under me by which I bestow to you the daggers of Olympus. These daggers grant you the powers of the 12 main Olympians. Use them in your quest to vanquish the demons that haunt this realm. Remember child yell when your holding the daggers & blessings will befall you. Now go home, your next quest is waiting for you. Remember this name: Winchester!"

YN: "Artemis thank you I go now under the guidence of the gods."

You left and boarded the next possible flight. You remembered what Artemis had said, the daggers became bracelets, you arrived home to discover your only hope of retrieving your weapons cache, was to somehow knock out the 2 guys that showed up just before you did.

You overheard their conversation it went something like this:

John: "look Sam I don't pretend to understand what your going through but you can't speak to your brother the way you did & you certainly as hell don't get to speak to me that way either."

At that moment it was unclear to John what was happening. He went to move but felt his darkness rise up once more.

This made your hunting senses go haywire, you tried to ninja your way passed them using the cover of darkness, but they spotted you..

Dark!John: "hey Sam look over here son!"

Demon Blood!Sam: "well well let's play with her shall we?"

Dark!John: "let's get away from here first then we shall have some fun with her."

Both guys were immediately by your sides they knocked you out. by the time you woke up again tied to a bed.

Dark!John: “oh good you’re awake, we were afraid you would sleep through all the fun!”

YN: “who are you?”

Demon Blood !Sam: “have you ever heard the name of Winchester?”

thats when Artemis’ words rang through your mind...

YN: “you’re what my mentor warned me about. let me go... what do you intend to do with me?”

Dark!John: “we intend to fuck you into the middle of next week unloading our dark semen into you, little girl. we will begin in just a few moments.”

John and Sam left the area, you struggled against your binds, your next move was to pray to Artemis.

YN: “Artemis Goddess of the Hunt, freeze time in my stay, come now to speak with me.”

in that moment, time stopped as Artemis appeared.

Artemis: “what has happened my child?”

YN: “those 2 goons over there go by the last name of Winchester. please o great & humble Artemis send me salvation for i know i cannot fight what is about to happen.”

Artemis: “not to worry child ill see what i can do...”

in that moment as fast as she had come, she was gone.. you sat in wait, fearing neigh dreading what was gonna happen to you, loosing the barrier of your innocence is something that has always kept you from falling too far in love...

you retreated to your safe haven, to your inner mind, now you werent paying any attention , you knew you would eventually come back to reality but for right then you were perfectly happy living in your magic.

the rumors surrounding the winchester name were true... but un-beknown to you, your salvation would soon involve another winchester. Meanwhile Artemis was having a discussion with her “brother” Ares.

Artemis: “its time bro, you need to share your powers with the other chosen by the Gods. it is the only way to save my prospect.”

Ares: “chill out sis, who is the lucky person to inherit my gifts?”

Artemis: “dean Winchester.”

Ares: “come with me sister. this will go alot smoother if your by my side..”

Artemis: “very well brother...”

both ares and artemis went on their way to see the better of the winchester line. they appeared scaring the living daylights out of Dean whose reaction was to pull out the handheld, aiming it at Ares and Artemis.

Ares takes a few steps forward now standing directly in front of Dean rolls his eyes.

Ares: “bro put that down... trust me boy your the only solution but your gonna have to act fast...”

Dean lowered his gun at the ringing of Ares’ words...

Dean: “what are you talking about? who are you?”

Artemis: “Dean, you’re one of those chosen by the Gods of Olympus... Ares beside me here is going to give you access to his power as well as that of the 12 main Olympians.”

Dean sat down on the edge of his bed, the expression of shock clear cross his face.

Dean: “well if the dude is Ares, who does that make you sweetheart?”

Artemis: “i am Artemis Goddess of the Hunt... Dean do you accept the charges that Ares will provide to you?”

Dean: “of course but why are you guys just approaching me now?”

Ares: “cause your time to awaken is now, your partner from the Gods is in serious trouble. Dean, you have found favor within me, i bestow to you now the dual swords of Olympus, they will turn into Gauntlets when you arent in battle. the swords will grant you the powers of the Gods. now your task is to go and find one called YN, she is a huntress & your chosen partner. your father & brother are the ones that have her.”

Dean’s eyes went wide with shock and a bit of anger...

Dean: “where is she? how do i reach her?”

Artemis: “we will show you where but once there you must hurry for if they impregnate her, the apocalypse will start. Both you & YN are the 2 people both set to start the apocalypse as well as start it. her getting filled with dark sperm is the first seal broken, this must not be allowed to happen. once you rescue her you have to call our names & we will get you away from there. they havent climaxed yet they havent even started fucking her yet, but they are about to start... i know this cause im connected to her. Dean are you prepared to fight your own family?”

Dean: “im prepared to do what is necessary to save my partner...”

back at what you assumed to be some sort of a motel or hotel room.

YN: “look okay you guys really dont want to do this.. ive got very very powerful friends.”

Dark!John: “shut up you stupid bitch... take what we are gonna give you and like it...”

John came up to your pussy first running his finger through your folds before replacing his finger with his cock. you struggled, you knew what was about to happen... but you felt powerless at that moment to stop it...

Sam came up to your mouth and started to slap your face with his cock... this went on for several moments before he tried to make you gag on his fingers, you ended up gagging but you bit him in the process...

Demon Blood!Sam: “why you little bitch... thats it... Dad you can take her virginity im gonna teach this bitch not to bite people...”

Dark!John: “if your not ready for me by now sweetheart your not gonna have a choice now...”

before you could come back with your remark, Sam shoved his Cock in your mouth, thrusting in and out holding position making your eyes water and causing you to gag. you were only given a 1 second breathing period between gagging sessions.

after the first 5 gagging sessions Sam was laughing so hard amused by your gagging that he didnt even realize that you threw up on his cock right away... he noticed it when John spoke out...

Dark!John: “okay bitch this is for throwing up on my sons cock...”

at that moment your eyes went wide, you let out an earth shattering scream as John thrust himself hard into your pussy breaking past the barrier of your innocence.

Demon Blood!Sam: “okay bitch, clean my cock...”

Sam then stuck his cock back in your mouth, puke and all... this made it even harder to take in... you threw up multiple times after that... John didnt care that you were bleeding a bit, that soon stopped when your pussy started to form to John...

you screamed between gags, you were crying and choking and barely breathing... you only hoped that your salvation would soon arrive and that your powers would not show, for the darkness must not contact the light... you retreated into your mental space only partially to keep up the gagging and noises...

Artemis was now in a similar but not state of shock over what she was feeling from you, she knew you had retreated to your safe space...

Artemis: “omg we dont have alot of time, YN is growing weak... if they impregnate her they will... wait a moment thats it... as soon as you have eyes on YN you need to mind meld with her, your powers are linked, it will allow you to meet her and to mentally fuck her.”

Dean: “im sorry what... mentally fuck her... what the fuck does that mean?”

Artemis: “ill explain before i send you in... lets go...”

Dean stood up in time to be transported with Ares and Artemis just outside of a warehouse district.

Dean: “explain please...”

Ares: “basically long story short you and YN can fuck in your shared mental space and what ever transpires in there climax wise will transpire in reality. meaning if you cum inside her in your shared mind, it will cancel any dark energy they would be putting into her in reality.”

Dean: “and all i have to do is connect to YN...”

Artemis: “yes she is in her mental space now... but the guys are close to releasing into her... you have about an hour at best before they release... once in the mental scape time will speed up... so make sure you stay out of sight till yours and YN’s roles are done in the mental space... Ares and I will wait here for you to call our names and we will pull you both out.”

Dean stared at the building behind him searching it with his powers trying to get a lock on you... finally after a few moments Dean was no longer in front of Ares and Artemis but instead was high in the rafters of one of the buildings in the district...

he looked down and saw you, his father and his brother. he got into a position where he was sure that he wasnt gonna fall or anything and while keeping you in sight. he channeled his inner powers and went deep into a state of mind where hopefully he would find you...

entering the joining point he saw something in the distance that he could only assume had to be you. Dean then figured he had better look the part of “not here to hurt you” or anything look peaceful while still hot and sexy...

indeed the form he had seen was you, sitting on the ground with your knees tight to your chest, knowing that you were at this point helpless to stop what was happening outside... thats when your powers sparked, making you turn around...

YN: “who are you?”

Dean: “im Dean Winchester... yes in unfortunate relation to the ones who are currently giving you your current predicament. but at the same time im the good one. i threw away my darkness a long time ago.. i never looked back. im the other chosen by the Gods of Olympus with Ares as my guide. our patrons wait outside this building for us... but we have to do something first to counteract whats happening outside.”

YN: “what do we have to do? what can we do we are in here they are out there defiling my body... they stole my innocence... they took the thing that kept me from loosing my sanity...”

Dean: “Artemis said that what we do in here in the form of sex, the only thing that will stay as a permenant to your outside form is the climax that i unload into you in here... that will stop them from releasing their darkness inside of you and breaking the first seal of the apocalypse.”

YN: “Dean i trust you to get us out of this mess safely and when we get back to our physical forms i shall like to explore more of what we can be together slowly.”

Dean helps you stand his clothes falling off of him, his arms lift you high softly and gently placing you on his cock. being thrust by Dean made you feel different, like it was meant to be, like this was destined.

Ares: “did they just.?.”

Artemis: “its happening... lets be ready to pull them out... there is only 10 minutes left out here but to them it will feel like mere hours.”

Ares: “lets hope the speed of the Gods makes their work alot faster.”

Artemis: “i hope your right brother.”

Dean was speeding up alot faster than normal, he then remembered about his powers. they were still kicking in, well he now had the speed of Hermes and man was he putting it to good use.

Dean (out of breath): “squirt for me baby! i can tell your almost there... by my time count so am i and so are they... squirt for me baby... Ares, Artemis be ready to pull us out with clothes on, we are almost there...”

you were now in a half mental and half physical state so John and Sam could hear the earth shattering orgasmic scream you let out the second you climaxed, Dean, John and Sam also climaxed... you spat out the seman right back at Sam and vomited immediately.

your magic was working to expell the darkness from your body... Dean was also back in his own body... for he then smiled lightly...

Dean: “Ares great God of War, Artemis Goddess of the Hunt pull our asses out. and someplace far way.”

within seconds you and dean were whisked away but Ares decided to teach John and Sam a lesson so he used his power to make them ready to cum again but placed them on the bed where John was about to unload into Sam’s ass and Sam all over John...

Ares stayed to leave a creepy voice over.

Ares (thundering voice from above): “if either of you morons ever think about contacting that girl or your other family member again i will personally deliever you both to the firey gates of tartarus myself for the dark tretchery you have caused.”

you and Dean suddenly found yourselves in a room, one unlike that of which either of you had ever seen. there was a knock on the wall making both of you look up.

Artemis: “welcome to Olympus... i’m sure you both have lots of questions. let me be the first to say congratulations. but that is news for after a few words from Zeus...”

both you and Dean got down and Bowed before the king of the Gods. looking up at Zeus who smiled and gestured for both you and Dean to rise.

Zeus: “YN & Dean, i am delighted to meet those chosen by Artemis and Ares. i hope you will find this quarters to your liking. dont worry Artemis and Ares will go in a while to collect your possessions from earth. when you both are up to it i would like to discuss a few terms and oaths with you both. but right now with what you both have been through you both need to rest. Artemis and Ares wont be far, the grounds are extensive but are free to roam. no boundaries or secrets. i also recommend the hot spring it has healing properties. for now rest. we are delighted to have you both up on Olympus with us. please dont hesitate to ask questions, welcome to the family.”

with those words Zeus was gone. Artemis stuck robes and towels and things like that in the wardrobe.

Artemis: “dont worry YN when your better we will go buy many of the necessities for you from the best shops this side of greece. but i agree with father as much as it pains me too, you both need to rest. everything else can be put on hold for as long as you need to feel normal again.”

you both bow slightly as she leaves and a tinted glass door closes behind her and a couple of curtains fall over the door and the windows. this left you and Dean completely alone.

Dean: “are you okay?”

YN: “no.”

Dean: “do you feel like talking about it?”

YN: “not really..”

Dean: “lay with me on the bed we dont have to do anything but at least let me hold you.”

you nod as you feel the tears return to your eyes. flowing freely, yours and deans once clothed forms now lay bare covered by one single silk sheet, now cuddled together to rest from the events that took place that one awful fated day.

#spnkinkbingo #spndarkbingo #heaven and hell bingo

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merrysithmas · 5 years

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some POPPER-centric hcs:

Boris and Theo celebrating Popper's birthday together for two years, waking up at two in the afternoon, blinds drawn tight - but not tight enough to banish the bright gleam of treasure chest gold that flares through the slits between them, 777 Vegas coin yellow, graffitiing malleable stripes of desert sun across the walls and crumpled sheets. Theo peeking a tired eye over the coverlet from under Boris' arm, little Popper’s big cookie-round ink eyes already awake and staring at him, tail wagging bashfully against the sheets in the silence.

Boris, who was snoring just a moment ago, starts up, suddenly, electrified, hollering a gasping realization that sounds something like, “Moy malchik!” The sound pops a breaker in Theo’s brain, letting loose a migraine from last night's bender, which is evidenced by the toppled pill bottles (Xandra's), the semi-collapsed beer cans and the vague memory of Boris' stoned over-confidence ("Potter! Look - against my head - watch - I bet I can - like the movies!"), and the ultimately ignorable ache of his hamstrings.

At Boris' startling exclamation Popper lets loose an exuberant tirade of ungodly shrieking, like set off by the crack of a gun at race he was raring for, immediately licking Boris' morning-slick skin, teenaged greasy and gross, and Boris is laughing so loud that the walls almost shake, as they are so regularly starved and thin of joy. And Theo sits up, wincing (that phantom ache again, inadmissible memories) and leans on his elbow, reaching out to pat the wild little thing who quickly turns on him, "Ok - Happy birthday! Happy birthday!"

II.

Boris and Theo washing Popper in the sink - he reeks. Sickly sweet rotten fruit-smell compounded with the wet mildewy stench of old laundry, distinctly intermixed with the odor of shit. Popper’s yelping echoes through the kitchen like an antique car horn, petrified, claws rigid on the edge of the sink, braced for continued frantic attempts to flee his sudsy prison and energized with bouts of fervor not entirely unlike a demonic possession. The one overhead light fixed accusatorily above the kitchen sink makes the whole set up look like an interrogation room - worlds away from the girly relaxing grooming videos they found on Youtube.

“Potter! Not this way!" Boris screeches - voice cracking like it has been lately - exacerbated in its rawness by the cheap, caustic brand of cigarettes he smokes. Lately they’ve been meeting the parched maw of his chapped lips like a consecutive line of ants, one after the other, his fingernails yellowing. Popper shakes violently, way before Theo is ready and can throw the ratty towel across his drenched body, whirling like a windmill, fur centripetal and spiralling, soaking their filthy t-shirts flat onto their bony bruised limbs.

“Oh, Popper," Boris outright coos, followed by a placating barrage of what is unmistakably a grandmotherly coddle of (likely) Polish. "You look just like Potter!" he declares, finally discarding his ciagrette, which dims in the puddle on the counter as it sucks up water. Theo grabs it as it does, revives it, takes a long, charring drag of nicotine and tar. His eyes narrow behind his glasses, observing the drowned-rat Maltese, frigid and shaking to its bones, and completely hates how Popper's forlorn appearance quite accurately recalls his own reflecton, just in from the pool, hair flat to his head, eyes big and, somehow always, helpless.

III.

Boris and Theo say goodbye to Popper when he is fifteen. Congestive heart failure - a diagnosis so deleterious and uncomfortably human Theo finds it hard to believe when the middle-aged vet ("Dr Janet", purple earrings, thick rectangular glasses - incense burning, loose leaf tea drinking, National Park lover) breaks it to him. She seems to understand the frozen bones in his shoulders and his unexpected quietness better than he does, leaving the room before he notices she’s gone.

Even in the darkest edges of his flayed existentialisms Theo never found room for dogs. Dogs, he supposes for the first time, in an achingly unfair realization, with their bright renewable resource of happiness (which they often give freely even to the undesevering, or unknowning, or unappreciative) are immune to such nihilistic musings. Popper stares at him from the table, ragged and old, too heavy in the middle and too thin on the edges, breathing all wrong. How did - all that time pass?

Boris, on video-chat in Kyyiv, up to no nefarious deed (he insists) is the one, for once, startled by Theo’s harsh red eyes, like he's been doping too much again, but there’s no dope - just a clinical setting and a hard shuddering breathing, from somewhere offscreen, quiet like it’s coming from a baby in crib.

Boris, like a knitted sweater, so often and inevitably pulled in many different directions until he disappears, seems to swat away half a dozen Non-English speaking acquaintances before the line goes quiet on his end and Theo can actually explain what is going on. The way he touches the screen on the video chat with his fingertips when Theo presents it to Popper (“Let me see him please,” Boris had asked, with no hidden heartbreak) makes Theo’s chest crush inward like the emotional equivalent of the impact of a car accident.

Boris says no at first, when Theo makes the suggestion, no let him go when he's supposed to, not yet, then: let me see him first, and makes it all the way to JFK before his phone rings. He doesn't answer, won't, but when he walks in the jingling door from the merciless city rain, the black tails of his coat dragging water, all sharp angles and dark shadows, he already knows.

“He couldn’t wait anymore,” Theo says. And when he meets Theo’s cherry red eyes, Boris doesn’t yell, or get angry - he cries. Right there in the lobby - he cries. Hands shielding his eyes, like a boy cowering beneath the shade of an umbrella.

IV.

Later they bump coke in the bathroom of Gramercy Tavern, shitfaced at the table, “Remember when he ate Xandra’s G-string?” Theo says so loudly it rings across the room like a papal blessing.

“Aha! Yes! So sneaky. Little pervert! Gets that from you! And the time he shit in the grocery store? Aisle 12?”

The memories pour out: “His fucking pink collar with the bell on it.” “How he howl like - ooo ooo oooo! So annoying! Always in the morning! Yes, Popchyk! I’m coming!” “Oh when we caught him fucking The Playa’s chihuahua?” “да, I told him he could do better! He was nice boy she was not so nice. Still, he got more ass than either one of us,” Boris says fondly, proudly, and clinks his shotglass to Theo for what seems like the hundreth time.

“Something deeply not right about catching a Maltese in the throes of passion,” Theo says, blinking long-disturbed eyes behind the dewy lenses of his glasses. Boris seems to agree, with a noncomittal grunt, and puts a heavy, vice-like grip onto Theo’s shoulder, shaking him until he looks up.

“Like a teddy bear getting a blowjob,” he says, and Theo laughs a half-choked laugh. They’re both crying. They’re both fucking crying.

“To Popchyk née Popper, G-string sniffer, pillow hat, accomplished singer,” Theo sniffs, sitting up straightly from his messy, hunched position over the table, head back against the booth. Boris meets his eyes, they’re both such a fucking mess. “And friend.”

“Vichnaya pamyat,” Boris says formally, in response. Theo smashes his glass, agreeing.

“Eternal memory.”

“Open any one! Any one you want!” Boris crows happily, the tip of his nose red like he’s been outside in the cold but he hasn’t, not for hours, and the sloshing bottle of Christmas cheer which is sitting (carelessly, without a coaster, Theo notices with disdain) on the mahogany side table is nearly empty at only half past noon. “Oh! My big mistake!” Boris makes a big show of putting his hand to his chest in guilt, elevating the bottle and placing it on top of a book instead. “блядь,” he scoffs.

“I know what ‘bitch’ in Russian is,” Theo answers, wrapped warmly in a woolen Burberry pullover, burgundy, with the festive forest green cuffs of his starched button up curling around the ends of his sleeves. Snow is falling outside like white wafting butterflies, the stone Antwerp architecture nestled under frost, Tchaikovsky on the speakers hooked up to Boris’ sentimental iPhone.

“I know!” Boris says cheerily, gesturing towards the presents beneath the tree with a sweeping, encouraging hand. “Any one!”

Theo rolls his eyes, but as they land on the smattering of gifts wrapped festively on the dark hardwood floor his mood lifts. Picking up a small one, dark matte navy blue with a silver ribbon Boris exclaims offendedly -

“No! Any one!” he repeats, taking the blue one out of Theo’s hands and replacing it with a rather less elegant medium-sized red box, bundled together with a haphazard green string. “This one!”

The oddly-weighted box quivers in his grip, a strange feeling which sends an unexpected thrill of fear through Theo, “What is this.”

“Open!” Boris goads. “Just look!” he seems pleased with himself, taking another long hit off the joint that is smoking in the ash tray and then rubbing his palms together and leaning forward over his knees, eagerly like a kid.

The box is easy to open, just a cover over a base, which Theo lifts to reveal the small fuzzy face of a tiny, tiny round dog, so extremely gay, circular in the face like a teddy bear, pawing at the side of the box.

“You like her?” Boris asks with the trepidation of new fallen snow, peering over Theo’s shoulder.

The puppy stares at him, unblinking and cherubic, and softly licks Theo’s nose. It happily lets out the shrillest bark from its tiny lungs, a sound so high-pitched it makes the bells on the tree tingle in the vaguest memory of tinnitus.

“Ah, бубенчик Popchykova!” Boris laughs.

Theo hoists the little thing up, blinking tree lights ensconsing the ball of its fuzz, an ornament-shape itself - the puppy wriggles disorganized limbs in midair, pawing innocently for warmth and closeness. Somehow smaller, more effeminate, and more annoying than his last dog. He loves her already. Round cookie-shaped eyes and a bark that splits his skull. And the name?

It fits.

#the goldfinch #boreo #popchyk borysovych decker pavlikovsky #i have a lot of feelings abt popper ok

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legion1993 · 5 years

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Your Demons Are My Darkness