#this is gonna be an iron on patch but i ran out of the paper lol

[loud-whistling-yes]

Hello crane wives nation

I spent an embarrassing amount of time on this ✌️ (bonus pic under cut for next project :))

[peachiimilquetea]

𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 boyfriend has never been too sexual of a guy... or so he thought

this authors note is gonna be a bit longer so bare with me pls. so this is the very first request im doing! woo! tysm to @m0chilattae ​ for this request it was so good and i had a lot fun fleshing it out! this is also my first scenario so its not gonna be in my usually bulleted format. I hope you guys like it and please let me know if you have any preferences for legibility or anything like that!

length: 2.6k

contains: sub!bf x dom!reader, afab/fem!reader, light b0ndage, edging, teasing, use of baby boy, use of miss/mistress, light degradation (m!receiving), face sitting/ oral (mostly r! receiving), light overstimulation (m! receiving), 69 technically?, vibe play

“wow you didn’t even flinch,” you murmured

you and your boyfriend sat on the couch cuddled up together, the dim light from the tv softly reflected on your faces. this movie almost was unbearably long, but he had insisted you had to see it and so here you were almost an hour later.

“what?”

you pulled your eyes away from the screen to look at your boyfriend.

“this woman is getting some of the best dick of her life on screen and you didn’t even miss a beat,” you giggled.

you weren’t even trying to be funny. the actress on screen let out an exaggerated moan as the man in front of her practically plowed into her, almost to prove your point. the scene wasn’t really your cup of tea but even you were a bit affected, feeling heat prick your skin as you watched the sex scene unfold.

your boyfriend, however, seemed extremely disinterested.

“hey can we skip this scene?” he asked and you grabbed the remote to fast forward.

the rest of the movie went pretty well. your boyfriend made a pretty good choice for this week’s movie night, but you were more focused on what he said earlier.

“babe?”

“hm?”

“so that scene really didn’t make you feel anything? not even a little stomach flutter?”

“nope,” he said popping the p for emphasis, “its just not my thing i guess.”

it wasn’t a secret in your relationship that your boyfriend had a significantly lower sex drive than you did. it was a running joke among his friends and he was almost notorious for not really being too interested in the cultural narrative of traditional sex.

you didn’t hold it against him of course, you loved him all the same and he even got you some toys for the times that he just wasn’t feeling it, but something was always off about his apathy towards getting down and dirty with you. there was, however, one thing you had not tried yet.

you were a switch, but you had never tried to turn the tables on your boyfriend. it could be the missing piece you thought, as you cleaned up the living room. as he took the dishes to the kitchen to wash them you made the executive decision to test your running theory

“you know, i think we should try something later this week,” you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

“yeah? something like what?” he turned off the water and sighed, leaning into your touch.

“hmmm its a surprise. but you do have to come up with a safeword for me.”

“ill think about it”

and thus your plan was set into motion.

on the days leading up to the finale of your master plan, you decided to start small with the teasing. you had never attempted to turn the tables on your boyfriend and you were extremely curious as to how things would go.

you had asked him to go out and pick up some things for dinner.

“im home!” he called and you directed him to the kitchen with his bags.

“i was just about to start cutting up veggies, so perfect timing babe. did you get the salmon i asked for?”

“yup! i got the last fillet.”

“good boy! you’re so helpful baby i was afraid there wouldn’t be any left”

your boyfriend paused mid-action as he processed what you had just said to him. he didn’t notice the way you were subtly taking note of how his face heated up slightly and how he began to fumble over his words just a little.

the pet name made his stomach do flips, but why was that? did he like that? he didn’t even know himself, but he pushed it down and continued to help you unpack the groceries and set up for your meal. 

the second time you teased him was when he was doing some work for school. he had managed to give himself a huge papercut and came out of his room to find you for help.

“what the hell happened?” you gasped as you saw the state of his finger. he would live but you had no idea how he managed to do this with one sheet of paper.

“s’just a papercut but it stings like crazy. do you have a bandaid?”

you hurried to get him fixed up so he could get right back to work,

“you have to be more careful, baby boy, you only get 10 fingers,” you smiled at him, knowing your words would have an effect on him again.

he sputtered, whatever he was going to say becoming a jumbled mess in his mouth at the casual way you called him baby boy. it was so natural for you, and it sounded so so good to his ears.

“what?” he croaked out, desperately hoping you would repeat yourself.

“are you feeling ok? you’re looking a bit flushed, babe. i just said you need to be more careful, how much blood did you lose?”

“n-not too much,” he ran a hand through his hair to subtly calm himself down, “it was just a paper cut.”

“well ok, if you need anything else you know where to find me.”

the smile in your voice was a new kind of torture to him. he didn’t even know he could feel so hot all the time, let alone from words alone.

you, on the other hand, were growing more and more excited as the days passed. the build-up would make the end of the week that much sweeter and you were determined to make it good for him.

the end of the week couldn’t come fast enough for the two of you. your boyfriend had never been this horny in your life and you had never been so ready to help him out.

as you gently adjusted the restraints around his wrists he felt all sorts of anticipation bubbling in his stomach. he didn’t know what you had planned but he was almost itching to find out. so much for not being too interested.

“do you remember the safe word?” you asked, tugging the chain to check its security to the bed.

“yes,” he breathed.

“good.”

you left the room to collect yourself and to give yourself the element of surprise. you had to make this a performance, and a damn good one at that.

giving yourself one last look over in the mirror, you stepped back into the room and put on your dominant demeanor. it felt good to be back after such a long time.

“you know,” you started, circling your boyfriend on the bed, “i almost feel silly for not picking up on this sooner.”

your boyfriend said nothing verbally, but his eyes followed you like a starved animal, mind holding onto every word you said for dear life. his mouth was so dry and he was so turned on.

“its funny really, i never did anything because i didn’t want to scare you. isn’t that ironic, baby?” you mused out loud, “the one thing you wanted all along has been here the whole time.”

he finally found his voice, asking, “and what’s that?”

you came closer to him, hooking your leg around his other side and sitting on top of him. you teasingly rubbed your hands all over his chest and stomach, reveling in how he squirmed for you made such small and cute sounds.

“you wanted someone to take control.”

he screwed his eyes shut and let out a low “fuck” at your words as you rubbed over his nipples lightly. he stared at your tits, desperately wanting to grope you back but being stopped by his restraints. 

he bucked in surprise when you pinched them, letting out a loud gasp and throwing his head to the side.

“awww, my baby boy is so sensitive,” you crooned and you swore you watched him die and go to heaven when you called him that.

“you like it when i call you a good boy?”

he groaned, nodding his head feverishly. you caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead, getting off his lap and getting out your box of toys from underneath the bed. it was time to really make him see stars

“as glad as i am that we’ve gotten to the root of your issue, you still need to be punished for not being truthful with me.”

“but _____ i didnt-”

“who?” you asked, voice turning icy in a split second, “you call me miss or mistress. do you understand?”

“yes miss,” he shivered.

“now, are you going to behave?” you asked, vibrator in hand.

he eyed the toy down but still nodded. you motioned for him to lift his hips up and got his pants off, leaving him in just his underwear strapped to your shared bed.

it was a sight you never thought you were going to see, so you savored it, drinking in his naked and flushed form, and really enjoying how antsy he got under your gaze. it was truly intoxicating.

“you always told me your sex drive was low, and yet here you are, practically keening at the thought of me using you like the toy you are. do you want me to touch you?”

he began to nod but you grabbed his jaw, making him look you in the eye, “use your words like a good boy.”

“yes mistress, i want you to touch me so bad”

“where do you want me to touch you?”

“o-on my c-chest and stomach. a-and on my… you know,” he mumbled shyly towards the end.

“you have to say it, baby boy,” you grinned pinching and twisting his nipples again. he cried out in surprise and pleasure.

“my cock! i want you to touch my cock! please miss!”

you smiled as he started to crack and looked down at where his dick strained in his underwear. his cock head was practically dripping, leaving him with a dark patch right on the front of his underwear. you hadn’t even properly touched him yet and he was almost cumming in his pants.

you pulled his briefs down, enjoying the view of his cock bouncing back up and hitting his lower stomach. grabbing it with some force, you started to stroke him, thumbing his slit to spread his precum around and use it like lube. 

“we’ll have you get you a cock ring soon because this won’t do,” you said, making a fist for him to buck up into.

he was moaning pretty loud now, the loudest you’d ever heard him outside of receiving head. there was a familiar but searing heat blooming in your stomach but you pushed it down. right now the focus was on him.

turning on the vibrator, you concentrated it to the underside of his head. he let out a yelp, then a hiss and a whine as he felt the waves of pleasure crash over him.

“t-this- its too much! s’too much!”

you let it continue for a few seconds before turning the vibrator off and moving away from him. 

you watched as your boyfriend fought against his restraints, bucking into the empty air for even a semblance of friction.

“i was on the edge! w-why did you stop?”

“you thought mistress was going to let you cum that easily? you’re working for this baby,” you stepped back up to him and grabbed his cock again, turning the vibrator to a higher setting than before.

back and forth you went edging the boy on the bed. as you teased him more and more, he became more restless, thrashing around more and really letting himself feel every stroke, change of pace, and new vibration. 

after a while, you couldn’t take the pangs of white-hot need shooting through your abdomen so you decided to put him to good use. you turned the vibe off, leaving the poor boy at the edge and climbed back on top of him, scooting yourself over to where his face was.

his eyes widened as he looked up at you, realizing what you had planned for him in real time. 

“do you think you can handle me sitting on your face?”

he audibly groaned, “yes mistress. i would love- mmmph!”

you cut him off by lowering yourself down on him, relishing in the relief of his tongue on your cunt. he moved in long and languid strokes at first, almost teasing, but then began to really eat as if his life depended on it, sucking on your cl!t and fucking you with his tongue.

you could feel your legs shaking as he went to town. you grabbed the headboard and unconsciously began to grind against his face, giving him little pockets of air now and then. you then got an amazing idea.

you completely dismounted off his face and turned around so you were facing his cock. he was still tied up very well, and he bucked his hips up at the view of your ass right in his face. 

he lifted his head to take a bite out of it and you slapped his thigh, chuckling at how eager he was. he had earned the right to be a little bit playful at least.

“do you want me to make you cum? you’ve been a good boy so i think you’ve earned it.”

“yes yes! i wan- i want it more than anything- i-”

“but,” you grabbed his cock, “ you have to make me cum first.”

“i-i can do that,” he moaned and you lowered yourself onto him and let him take over. it felt so good you almost forgot that his cock was right there.

you pressed a few light kisses to the head and almost immediately came his muffled moans from being deep in your pussy. you were so close you just needed a little but more.

he sucked on you with vigor, finally tipping you over the edge with a harsh suck to your clit. you cried out and braced yourself on his thighs, riding out your orgasm all over his face. he groaned as he tried to keep up with you, licking up everything that gushed out with vigor and you spasmed in slight overstimulation as he cleaned you up.

“you’re such a good boy,” you sighed.

you flipped around once again, catching him in a searing kiss before sinking down on his cock without warning. you swallowed a garbled moan of his as you continued to kiss him and leave marks on his neck and chest, riding him slowly.

“miss, im not gonna last long at all,” he whimpered and you ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face as you looked at him.  

“that’s ok, baby boy. just let go”

two more strokes and he was cumming in you with a loud groan. his heavy breathing fanned your face as you continued past the threshold of pleasure he was prepared for.

“m-miss- i-ah! i finished- finished!” he babbled as you rode him into an overstimulated frenzy

“hurts-it hurts! please mistress no more!”

you finally slowed to a stop and let him just calm down inside you. after unsheathing him and taking off his restraints, you laid in your bed together in comfortable silence.

“what was that?” he asked and the both of you dissolved into post-coitus giggling. 

“well i’ve always been a domme, but i never thought you would be into that kinda thing. you never seemed like you were into any kind of thing.”

“that is true. i just didn’t know i was into… that”

he sighed as you played with his hair, “well now that we know, we can do more. a lot more.”

he looked up at you with a lazy smile, “most definitely”

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @kixa​

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-one: the spine of california

Ruben's house in Marin Heights overlooked the city of San Francisco, such that by the time Sam had spent her second night there, she woke up to an above view of the thick bank of the fog: it almost resembled to a literal sea, courtesy of the sea itself. Even though her father had already helped in the selection of Testament’s temporarily new guitarist—whom he had only referred to as merely “Glen”—she couldn’t feel happier to be there in the Bay Area, especially after the funeral and the quick flight back from New Orleans to San Diego with Scott and Aurora. She just sat there on the plane, all by herself and without any sort of desire to speak to either Sam or Scott: at least the two of them sat next to each other all the way back from Louisiana.

Scott had become a completely different person in the past few years, as if the completely bald head wasn’t indicative enough. But gone were the days in which he had a big joking smile on his face: he had gotten so serious in the wake of Joey’s dismissal and his move out to California.

The only thing that hadn’t gone away was his sense of humor, however.

A ninety-minute flight and Sam treated him to a bunch of little doodles on the free pad of paper in the back pocket of the seat behind them.

“You ever think of making a comic?” Scott asked her at one point.

“Every now and again, but not really,” she confessed, “I’d have to write up a story and whatnot.”

“I can see you making a comic in the future,” he said with a little nod and a knowing gesture to her. “Even though Charlie and I are kind of burnt out of the whole ‘book report’ song style, we still like comic books, though. If it happens, could you tell us about it?”

“Of course!” she declared.

It was just another possible iron in the fire as she took the next flight from San Diego and up to San Francisco. Alex had already gone back home to his parents’ house in Berkeley but he picked her up from the airport and then drove her up to Marin Heights; and thus, once she landed in the Bay Area, she ran their road trip idea by him and he was eager to do that. They planned on driving all the way up the rest of the Valley and into southern Oregon and up to Crater Lake. If they were willing, Sam promised to take him to the Willamette Valley. Given they had timed it right there in the middle of spring, she knew that everything there in the valley carried with it rich shades of green.

On that day, she closed the back door of Alex’s car and she gave her dark hair a tuck back behind her ear. She then set her hat upon her head and she turned to Ruben there at the front step: the fog had burned away down below and in its wake was a slight breeze from the ocean next to them. He showed her a smile and he opened his arms to her.

“Drive safe, you two,” he told her, and he held her close to him.

“We will—and I'll call you once we find a phone up there, too,” she vowed.

“And you behave,” he said with a wag of his finger to Alex there in the passenger seat, even though Sam had explained to him twice over that there was nothing between them when Ruben caught Alex in his underwear back at her apartment.

“Of course, of course, Mr. Shelley,” he assured him with a quick nod of his head.

Sam put on her sunglasses and she climbed into the driver’s seat. Alex adjusted the arm piece of his mirrored sunglasses and ran his fingers through his black hair. The dye was wearing away a great deal and Sam could tell that that light patch over his forehead was about to become a straight streak given the rest of his head was solid jet-black. His roots were starting to show their heads at her, a straight clear-cut cluster over his brow just like Marla’s dyed black streak. It helped that he was letting his bangs grow out around the sides of his head.

They gave Ruben one more honk before they rounded the corner up ahead; they then headed down the street and towards the main artery which meandered down the hill.

“How long do you think this is gonna be?” Sam asked him. “Just because you’re more familiar with NorCal than me.”

“Well, I just think of the times you and I have gone through Sacramento—that's like a couple of hours and then up to the state line, I'd say that’s a couple more hours.”

“So, it’d be like from my mom’s house on Catalina to Reno.”

“Nah, it’d be more like from your mom’s house to Bishop. There’s more to it, though. A lot more to it. And then we have Oregon in there, too.”

“We’ll find some ginger snaps along the way, too,” she cracked as they turned the next corner down the hill, and he laughed out loud at that.

Within time the road flattened and they caught the first light green, followed by the next one. A few cars loomed up ahead of them, but they were about to make good time once again to the highway up ahead. Sam put extra pressure on the pedal when they reached the next one up but it wasn’t enough.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

“By that much,” Alex said with a pinch of his fingers. They hung there for a few seconds and then Sam peered out the windshield to the little market on the other side of the block, right across the intersection from them. She recognized that long kinky dark hair with that long blonde hair: they looked so similar to Joey and Krista, but he stood a little bit taller than Joey, however. But they did have that Native American blood that ran through both of them, and it wasn’t until he turned to the side when Sam recognized the curvature of his nose as well as those bright eyes, even from across the intersection. He held hands with her as they checked out the display of flowers out front there.

“Hey, there’s Chuck and Tiffany,” she remarked. Alex peered over his sunglasses at the couple there on the sidewalk and he raised an eyebrow at them.

“Looks like Tiff is—kind of expecting?”

Sam peered over her sunglasses for a look herself: indeed, when she turned to the side herself, Tiffany had a slight curvature on her waist. It helped that the cool crisp sunlight over them made more of a glare all around her so the lower part of her waist stood out against the bright concrete behind them.

“She’s just kind of expecting,” Sam chuckled, and Alex shrugged his shoulders at that. “She’s just a little bit pregnant.”

The light turned green and they rolled forward to the next round of blocks up ahead. Sam kept on laughing at that, and Alex laughed along with her as well. He then tilted his head back against the top of the seat: she took a glimpse over at him and the prominent Adam’s apple right in the middle of his throat.

“You don’t want kids, do you?” he groaned.

“No way I'm having kids,” she said with a gesture of her hand towards him. “As if I need more things to take care of.”

“As if you need more things to worry about, too,” he pointed out.

“That, too,” she added.

“I don’t think I will, either,” he continued, “like I'd rather have string babies. Easier to take care of and I know them better, too. I would like to get married someday, though. I think that’d be pretty hot, to be honest. You know, spend the rest of your life with the one you love.”

“With the right person, too,” Sam added with a wag of her finger.

“Of course! Then again, that’s what I get for being a Libra.”

“You Libras and your love of love,” Sam teased him. “I’m on the cusp of Capricorn and Aquarius. We like the idea of eternity with the right person, too.”

“You guys are a little bit harder with it, though,” Alex pointed out, “especially if your wedding with Joey was anything to go by.”

She took a glimpse over at him and his slightly raised eyebrows: he had lowered his mirrored sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so all she could see was the tops of his eyes. She returned to the road for a few moments just to see where she drove them to: the next stoplight up and they were about a block from the freeway. Alex remained in silence as they headed towards the ramp for the northbound lane: all the while, Sam wondered what was going through his mind right then.

Not even a full lifelike drawing of him could give her a glimpse into that wandering, questioning mind of his. She still itched to feel him and to hear him all the way through. Her best guy friend and she still had yet to figure him out all the way. They headed out of the Bay Area and into the low rolling hills: she still had yet to visit that patch of land where Lars and James had scattered Cliff’s ashes again. When they came back from Oregon, she could perhaps do it herself and also if Alex was feeling up to par himself.

“By the way...” he started again, “seeing as you have a lot of time on your hands for the time being, is there anything else that interests you at all? Besides artistry and whatnot?”

“Well, I’m glad you ask, Alexander. Given all of the road trips that you and I take—and the ones I’ve taken with Eric, Chuck, Tiffany, Greg, and also Louie—throughout all of the windswept landscapes and everything, I'm taking a little fancy for geology. Well, earth science in general.”

“Cool! Oh, yeah, ‘cause of all the volcanoes and the mountains and everything that surrounds us. It's like, ‘why not try it out for yourself?’”

“Exactly, yeah! I've also been thinking about—and you’re going to have to forgive me on this, too—but this is what I get for looking at boys such as yourself and then drawing them. I've also been thinking about designing clothes.”

“Like, fashion?”

“Yeah. What kind of fashion is the big question, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the answer,” he assured her with a little nod of his head; he reclined the seat back a bit. She took a glimpse over at him and his body as if he lay on display for her.

“What you get for looking at me is what you said,” he echoed her in a low mutter.

“Yeah. It's a, uh—yeah. You and the boys from Testament and Anthrax.”

“All the black leather and dark denim... we’re totally fashionable, baby!”

She giggled at him.

“The other thing is that’s a vast range of interest, too,” he said. “If there’s one other thing that I’ve been noticing with this whole alternative thing it’s a lot of osmosis. A lot of metal guys turning to that lighter, more experimental music and vice versa. I've been hearing the words ‘college kid music’ thrown around a lot, too. It's all pertaining to that music, no less.”

“College kid music,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s just wild to me. Just from hanging out with you and Marla and Belinda. The college kid music I know about is absolutely nothing like that! Anyways, I mention that because that tells me that we’re now in an era where we all can transcend labels. I can be the metal guy who does other things and you can be the artist who does other things as well and no one will question it.”

“I can see us stagnating a bit with it, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, yeah. That’s just the one problem. We're almost expected to pick one thing and that includes you and me both. It doesn’t feel fair to me and I know it wouldn’t fair to you, either.” He then shook his head. “You know, I just thought about Louie’s whole idea of a commune where we can all be artists together. I kind of wish he could go through with that because everything I just said.”

Sam thought about the conversation she had had with John the week before, where Anthrax was in it to make money and that meant ridding of their heart and soul that was Joey. She hoped that she and Alex would keep their heads and hearts intact, wherever they both chose to run off together as they rolled further into those low hills and towards the northern side of the Central Valley.

He had dozed off right at the end of the canyon there, about thirty minutes outside of Vacaville. Joey burst into her mind right then. Even though she could not marry him, he often came to her in quick flashes of memory. It was also right then she realized that she hadn’t seen the mysterious man in her dreams for a time at that point. She began to wonder if it was in fact Alex who kept coming to her in her sleep, especially since he vanished into thin air whenever he entered the picture for anything.

Alex let out a soft groan from within his throat and shifted his weight in the passenger seat. He shuffled his feet and brought his knees closer to his body. He leaned his head back towards the top of the seat once again and then he groaned again, that time from discomfort.

“You alright?” she asked him.

“Stomach’s kind of upset,” he replied with a gentle massage from his hand. “And it’s making me uncomfortable. I thought I’d take a nap until we reached the valley because I didn’t sleep very good last night—I was just excited for our little trip is all. So, I woke up this morning with the sore belly.”

“Aw, okay, we’ll stop in Vacaville,” she told him. “We’ve got to stop there anyway—I have to use the bathroom. We'll grab a cup of coffee while we’re there, too.”

“Sounds good by me,” he declared as he took off his sunglasses and then brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. He put them back on and he nestled down in the seat next to her.

They rounded the next bend in the road and they reached the outside of Vacaville: despite it being the middle of spring, the grasses all around had already turned to sickly shades of pale yellow and brown.

“We did not do well with rain,” Alex said aloud.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Sam added as she let go of the wheel for a second in order to shake her hands about.

“Your hands are already tired?” he asked her, slightly concerned.

“Nah, I was just holding onto the wheel a little bit too hard,” she assured him. “That’s been happening to me a little bit lately.”

The highway widened out a lane further once they reached the outskirts of town. Another thirty or so minutes and they would be over in Sacramento, and then they would make that long, tedious straight shot into the northern half of the state, all the way to Red Bluff and then Redding. Sam took the next exit to the nearest gas station right off of the side of the road: she flashed back on when he picked her up from the side of the road, a hundred miles down the valley, especially with all of the dried out grass that surrounded them.

Alex was quick to climb out of the car: no sooner had she switched it off when he ducked out of there and into the back side of the minimart. Sam shook her head and she climbed out herself. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she strolled inside for a couple of cups of coffee. By the time she stepped back outside with a paper cup in either hand, he stood right outside of the passenger door with his mirrored sunglasses in one hand and the hem of his shirt in the other. He breathed on one of the lenses and wiped it off with his shirt once she approached him.

“Tell you what,” Alex started, and he put on his sunglasses once again and took the cup in Sam’s left hand; the late morning sun washed over the crown of his head and made his incoming gray hairs all the more prominent. “If in five years' time—five years from today, April 27, 1997—and you and I aren’t going anywhere career-wise, we both go back to school together. I major in music and you go into earth science.”

“How ‘bout a double major?” she suggested to him. “Earth science and fashion and have the best of both worlds? I don’t really want to do a general fine art major again.”

“Ooh, hot!” he joked. “But—” And he stopped himself in his tracks and showed her a little lopsided smile. “You know what? I agree with you on that. You've got your own style and so that’d be a little bit silly to go through with the art major again. But yeah, how ‘bout that, though? How does that sound?”

“Deal.” She extended her pinky finger to him to which they looped them together. They then took sips from their coffee in unison.

“The twenty-seventh, too,” she echoed him. “It’s Greg’s birthday, isn’t it?”

“The twenty-ninth,” he corrected.

“We ought to get him something while we’re in Oregon,” she noted. Without another word, they climbed back into the car and they returned to the road for the short drive to the heart of Sacramento.

“You remember Chuck’s cousin?” Alex asked aloud as they spotted signs for the Interstate to take them north up to Redding.

“Yeah... what was his name again?”

“Stephen.”

“Stephen, that was it! What about him? What's going with him?”

“I guess his band’s trying to do things,” he told her. “That’s just what I’ve heard all from looking around for people who need a lead guitarist. They actually compiled a demo tape and circulated it around, kind of like what we did and what Metallica did, too. Last I heard they're actually talking to labels now.”

“I hope they can do it,” she declared.

“I know right? That'd be fantastic if they were able to make some serious headway like Metallica are doing right now.”

They took the next exit onto the Interstate, and within mere seconds, they were on their way up the other side of the spine of California. Alex downed the rest of his coffee and gave his stomach another gentle massage with his free hand.

“How’s your tummy?” she asked him.

“Feels a little better. Kind of want something to eat now.”

“Well, can it wait? There's not really any place to get off here. We're also making good time to boot.”

“I think I can wait.”

Sam soon realized that Alex had spoken too soon as they left Sacramento and they were met with miles upon miles of desolate farm land. To the right stood the Sierra Nevada Mountains while the Coastal Range loomed off to the left side of the valley.

“Aw, man,” he groaned.

“Yeah, and it’s forty miles to Red Bluff, too!” she declared with a gesture out the windshield to the sign on the side of the road. “Hang on, Alex.”

Indeed, he gripped onto the handle over his head and he bowed his chin down towards his chest.

“Did you eat breakfast this morning?” Sam asked him.

“Not really. Just a piece of toast with some butter on it. My parents weren’t up yet, believe it or not, so I had to make do with what I had available at my disposal. A little piece of sourdough toast with a little spread of butter on top.”

“You didn’t have anything else? Just the piece of toast?”

“Just the piece of toast, yeah.” He chuckled right then.

“What?”

“Surprised you didn’t ask me if I had anything fried with it.”

“I wish you did,” she scoffed, and he chuckled again.

Forty miles up to Red Bluff and then another thirty up to Redding. Miles upon miles of nothing all around them: but as they neared Red Bluff and the northern end of the valley, the trees began to spring up against the grassland. The tops reached up to the sky in a rich shade of dark green, a mere taste of what awaited them off to the north. At the north, right behind the hills at the north end of the valley, stood a small snowy point, to which Alex himself noticed.

“Samantha, do you know the volcanoes up here?”

“I know we’re near Mount Lassen,” she told him. “Like it’s over there in that direction.” She pointed out his side of the windshield.

“We’ll have to come closer to Redding but I think I see Mount Shasta right in front of us here.” He nudged his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and then he set his hand back down on his stomach.

“Poor boy has a sensitive tummy,” she noted.

“I really do!” he declared. “And I didn’t tell you this because it’s gross, but on this last tour with Testament, I had the literal worst pains you can possibly imagine. I wasn’t sick or anything but it was like no matter what I ate up, it didn’t sit too well with me and the guys were like, ‘dude, Alex, take something for that’ because it was getting bad right before we came home.” He paused for a second. “Maybe that’s why Aurora went out of her way to get rid of me...”

Sam took a concerned glimpse over at him, especially once his voice trailed off after that.

“You think that’s what Aurora meant when she said you were holding them back?” she asked him. “All because of the way your body was reacting to the food you were being served?”

“That’s just a guess but—not a bad one if I do say so myself,” he confessed. “Well, and I've also brought up to her that I wanted to do something else than heavy metal, hence why we went in the direction we did with this last record.”

“Wow,” Sam proclaimed in a hushed voice. He shifted his weight in the seat again and that time the trees were collecting closer and closer together; she knew that they were coming close to the outside of Red Bluff.

A sign emerged out of the trees, followed by a series of low buildings and small houses. They saw nothing more than a gas station.

“What the hell,” Alex blurted out.

“I know, right?”

“I also forgot to add—on the aforementioned last tour with Testament, and we were with Megadeth, believe it or not, their guitarist Marty—Marty Friedman, another Jew boy guitarist and with hair a lot like mine, and when I had just dyed my hair, too, so people were constantly confusing us with each other—we were driving through a bunch of small towns in the south and I really had to use the bathroom. Dave was driving the van believe it or not, and I was riding with them just because their van had air conditioning, and he was looking around for a bathroom for me. At one point, Marty said something and Dave turns his head a bit—like he’s the dad of the group, you know—and he goes, ‘Alex, you better not gripe to me about taking a shit again or you’ll be going out there in the woods!’ And without missing a beat, Marty who’s right next to me goes, ‘what, you want me to do that in the woods? Do I look like a bear to you at all, Dave?’ And Dave goes, ‘you better bear the bears for us all, Alex, you little scoundrel.’ And Marty said, ‘I’m the bearer of bears, Dave?’ And he goes, ‘you are a bear, Alex! A dirty rotten bear!’ And Marty goes, ‘you do realize who you’re talking to, right?’ Dave finally turns around and he’s face to face with Marty and he goes, ‘oh, shit’ and I finally chimed in with ‘you’re telling me!’”

Sam burst out laughing at that.

“One of the few times where I actually got a laugh out of that sort of thing, too,” he chuckled and he gently massaged his stomach some more. “Because it was more about playing around with words and me and Marty looking similar to each other. Marty—and Nick, drummer Nick Menza, was with us, too—the two of them were in tears; they were laughing so hard. Dave turned about as red as his hair, but he got a pretty good laugh out of it, too.”

“Come to think of it, that’s actually one of the reasons why I like hanging out with you, Alex,” she confessed. “Your sense of humor is vulgar but it’s nothing like that, though. It's quite refreshing actually.”

“Vulgar and dry as a bone,” he added with a slight raise of his eyebrow. He then turned to the road before them. “How long ‘til Redding?”

“Thirty miles and—I see Mount Shasta!” Indeed, once they reached the northern side of Red Bluff, the cold stony top point of the volcano rose up from behind the pale-yellow hills. “Yeah, I'm definitely going into earth science as a second major.”

“And fashion designing as the first,” Alex recalled; he then leaned forward in the seat next to her and he set his hands on his knees. Even in a single seat, he had a nice straight shape to his spine. Every so often, Sam took a glimpse over at him and his nice posture. His slender shoulders held back from his chest as if they warranted a brand-new jacket of some sort. Something designed by her and for him and only him. His chest stuck out a bit and his waist still carried that slender shape to it. She had seen him in the buff, and he needed something new to run with that beautiful body of his.

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to do that,” she told him in a low voice. He kept that pose all the way up to Redding and the next stop for a bite to eat. At that point, it was in fact getting close to lunch time, and a quick stop in Redding led to a full lunch break and a fill up of the gas tank before they headed back on the road.

“Feel better?” she asked him, and he leaned back in the seat once more, that time with his hands folded over his slender little stomach.

“Oh, yeah. That definitely hit the spot.” He was so delicate and so strong at the same time: Sam knew that there was no way she couldn’t go into fashion design at some point in the future.

North of Redding turned into even more hills and dense forest: Mount Shasta loomed larger and larger all the way up to the turn off for Highway 97 and the town of Weed, the name of which made Alex shake his head.

“Where the hell is Greg and Eric,” he muttered to himself.

“Why is that?” she asked him.

“They’d get a total kick out of this town name,” he replied, and he brought his pinched fingers to his lips as if to imitate a blow from a joint. Sam giggled at that as well; she flicked on the turn signal and they merged onto that narrow two-lane highway up to the state line and southern Oregon.

It would be another hour through the vast, desolate landscape, and one where they both pictured dinosaurs roaming about from the stray clusters of forest and the cold mountains off in the distance. Sam turned to him with a beaming smile on her face.

“Thank you for hailing from NorCal, Alex,” she told him, to which he shrugged.

“I do what I can,” he assured her. The road dipped down into a bowl-shaped valley at one point and they wound their way around the side of it: Sam then spotted a small cluster of houses nestled in the rise up ahead of them.

“Wonder what this place is next,” she wondered aloud.

“No idea,” he confessed. Once the words left his lips and they had passed an abandoned, rusted building on the side of the road that looked like an old factory, she spotted a sign that told them they had entered Oregon.

“Welcome to the Pacific Northwest, Alejandro,” she told him.

“The majestic Pacific Northwest!” he declared, and he held out his arms as if he beheld a masterpiece. “Something else I've heard about this place in particular?”

“What’s that?”

He turned his attention to her.

“The coast especially is a mecca for glass artists.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, yeah. Again, I was looking around for auditions from people back down south in the Bay Area and I was having drinks with a drummer and a bass player, and the former hailed from Portland. And he was telling us about the utter microcosm of music and art that way, and he added that the coast is filled with these little towns comprised of people from all manner of artistry, but glass in particular. So—a little something to run by Marla and Belinda when you see them again.”

“I don’t know how they would react up here, though,” Sam confessed. “It’s awful desolate. You know, we think upstate is remote. Upstate is like hustling and bustling compared to Oregon.”

She then took another glimpse at Alex, and then she returned to the road before them as it made a gentle curve around the base of the hills. The town up ahead came into view and it was only a matter of minutes before they had a name.

“I can see Louie’s artist commune coming to life up here, though,” she told him. “You know, where everybody is fixated on Seattle at the moment, he can undertake it here. In the state below.”

“Yeah, I can see that happening, too,” Alex said with a nod. “As long as he stays away from the Dalles, that’s fine. The guy also mentioned the Dalles, up by Mount Hood, it’s near the river up there. It's not very good.”

“I would think with a name like ‘the Dalles’, it’s not going to be the best place in the world.”

“Right? It'd be like The Hague, over in the Netherlands. Not much to do but go to High Court.”

Sam then took a glimpse at the clock on the dashboard as it read a quarter to three in the afternoon.

“Are you sure you want to keep going to Crater Lake today or do we wanna stop for the night? I've got plenty of money so we can have dinner and chill until the morning. I did promise my dad I was going to call him, too.”

“Yeah. As long as you don’t draw me while I’m sleeping.”

“Nah. Although I have thought about it.”

“You’ve thought about drawing me while I’m sleeping?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“I have, yes.”

“What else have you thought about doing with me?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” she admitted, especially since she knew that some of it, she couldn’t say to him yet.

“Taking a page out of your book—I won’t force you to do it if you don’t want to.”

“You know who else would’ve loved it up here?”

“Who?”

“Cliff. He would’ve just relished in every part of this, from the volcanoes to the vast stretches of land as far as the eye can see. He would’ve been all over this place.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he was kind of a cowboy,” Alex recalled in a soft voice. “Cowboy paired with a classical musician.”

The mere mention of Cliff brought on a wave of tears to Sam’s eyes, and at that point, she was glad they decided to stop for the night because there was no way she could continue on up the road like that.

[libsterslobsters]

Bring It On Home..

Summary: The battle against Thanos is over, and the Avengers are the winners. Those gone for the past five years have returned home, including Bucky. But what changes have taken place in the reader's life since she lost him, and can things go back to the way they were? Or do they have to find a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader is able to see bits and pieces of the future, can understand all languages, and process information at an abnormal pace, as well as being a super soldier)

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, maybe a hint of smut (blink and you'll miss it) mentions of the events of Avengers: Endgame, strong language

*************************************************

She knew it would happen before it did. Her damnable knack for seeing shards of the future let her know that Tony Stark would get the stones, and what’s more, sacrifice his life for both friends and people he had never met, but there were so many screams on the battlefield that day, when her agonized cry escaped her as she rammed her knee into the groin and her knife into the jugular of one of Thanos’s goons (the same one who nearly killed her five years ago, actually) no one heard.

She’ll carry that secret to her grave. Goodness knows Pepper doesn’t need the worry of wondering if it somehow could’ve been avoided (it couldn’t have), if she somehow could have saved him (it wasn’t possible). She briefly thinks about telling Steve once the dust settles, but then she catches sight of a familiar flash of silver, and what’s more, the man in black attached to it.

She’s not sure if he’s seen her before she takes off, running the fastest she ever has, but there’s no way he could miss the sound of her footfalls once she’s nearly on top of him, and he manages to catch her when she nearly topples over from stopping so abruptly in front of him. He looks the same as last time she saw him, her Bucky, but she’s sure she looks much different. Her mind rapidly runs through everything she could say to him, everything she should let him know, but what comes out is five simple words:

“You came back to me.”

He doesn’t get the chance to reply before heart-wrenching sobs echo from the woman in the Iron Man suit, who nearly keels over next to her dead husband. She’s not sure who reaches Pepper first, her, Steve, or Rhodey, but as Rhodes pulls her up to lean against him and Steve shields them from prying eyes, she’s the one to remove the helmet from Pepper’s head and dab at the tears.

She doesn’t see him again except for briefly passing in coridors for several days after that. Steve’s patching up holes in what’s left of their forces, explaining that they’ve been gone for five years, and here’s how they were brought back. Rhodey’s putting out publicity fires. Pepper doesn’t have the huge circle of friends she enjoyed in the days before she and Tony ran off together to start a family, and although they don’t know each other well, she stays with the grieving widow and along with Happy and Peter, entertains Morgan.

Since she hates to leave Pepper for more than an hour at a time, remembering her own grief years earlier, Steve has taken to dropping off fresh clothes for her every day and taking what needs to be washed home with him. That’s who she’s expecting when there’s a knock on the door of the room she’s been staying in for the past week and a half.

That is, until the door opens and her heart skips a beat. It’s him.

He offers her a smile, but it’s nervous.

“Hey. Steve said he was gonna stop by and drop these off for you, but I was in the neighborhood, so I thought-” Stopping short, he holds out the brown paper bag she assumes has the sweater she asked for and the workout wear.

There’s so many things she wants to say to him. So many things he needs to know. That she missed him so much she thought cutting out her heart would be less painful. That not a day has gone by when she hasn’t woken up, expecting to see a good morning text from “Barnes” as he’s still listed in her phone. That she hasn’t deleted any of the voicemails he sent her. That she’s kept moving forward because she had to, but it felt like she was hollow, just a shell of herself.

Instead, she ignores all logic and reserve, and goes with her gut instinct; wrapping one arm around his neck, grabbing a handful of hair to bring him down to her level, and kissing him the way she used to, like no time has passed and no changes have occurred. It’s only when a “thunk” from the bag hitting the floor reaches her ears that she realizes what she’s done or has a moment of doubt. But then, he’s pulled her closer, and she’s not the only one going for broke.

She manages to break away long enough to gasp out,

“Sorry. Is this-”

“This is okay. Yeah. This is good.”

That’s all she needs to hear before dragging him into the room with her and kicking the door closed.

___________________________________________________________________________________

This is stupid. It’s the thought at the forefront of Bucky’s mind. They dated for three years, and he even worked up the courage to ask her if she’d marry him before Thanos attacked. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous over a simple dinner date. It’s stupid. But he is nervous. Sure, for him, it’s been a grand total of two weeks since the battle where he turned to dust, but for her, it’s been a long five years. Who knows what’s happened in that time?

All of those concerns are put on pause as he catches sigh of her stepping through the diner doors. At the time, when he changed into one of Steve’s nicer button downs, blazers, and a pair of slacks (he’s pretty sure all of his clothes are still in Wakanda… or possibly thrown out by now, since it is five years later), he felt stupid, but now… yeah, he’s still underdressed. Of course, that would be true if she turned up wearing a potato sack, because it’s her, and to his mind (which he can’t guarantee is objective, but dammit, he can’t be far off) she’s the most beautiful creature to ever walk the face of this earth.

He’s barely stood up from the booth (no nicer places were available since literally everyone is trying to catch up with long-missing loved ones, and besides, he’s fairly certain they don’t take Wakandan currency in New York) before she catches sight of him, and that smile that could rival the sun peeks out again as she makes her way over. Does he hug her? Does he shake her hand? What’s the protocol when you’re meeting up with the woman who may or may not still be your fiancee for the first time in five years for her, and a few weeks for you? Who you’re sure as hell, absolutely, head over heels in love with, but who knows if she still feels the same way?

He doesn’t get to do either because she pecks his cheek, and before he can recover, slides into her side of the booth.

“You clean up just as nice as I remember.” He needs to say something in response. Words. He knows plenty of them. It’s just the using them that’s the problem.

“You too.” Did part of his brain disappear in the dusting and not come back properly? Is that why he’s completely tongue tied around her?

The situation definitely doesn’t improve when a waitress comes over to take their order and, as they fold up their menus and hand them over, he gets a good look at her left hand. Oh.

“Hey-” He doesn’t realize he’s been just staring until she reaches across the table and lightly grasps his arm. “-you alright there, Buck? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Maybe he has. Maybe he’s hallucinating. Or maybe-

“You kept it on.” She looks confused for a moment, and then a flush rises to her cheeks.

“Of course I did.” Her eyes lower to study the table, and her hand drops away. “Of course.”

“For five years.” Why is he saying this? Can’t he just accept anything at face value?

“Yes, um-” She clears her throat nervously. “-it wasn’t on my finger the entire time. I had a scare around four months in where I thought I’d lost it, and after that, I wore it on a chain around my neck, but yes. I kept it on.”

He wants to tell her how amazing that is, how he’s floored that it meant that much to her, he meant that much to her. But again, she’s the one to speak before he can.

“You can have it back. That is, if you’d rather…” She stumbles over her words, then sighs. “If you’d rather it not mean what it used to mean anymore.” Wait- “I know it’s only been a little while for you, but it’s been five years for me. I’ve gotten older, and I’m rough around the edges in places I didn’t used to be. Plus, I’ve changed a lot, and you might not to be tied down to who I am now-

“Keep it.” Her mouth falls open at the interruption, but she quickly snaps it shut. “That is, if you still want it to mean what it used to mean.”

She frowns slightly.

“I do. You wouldn’t believe how much… it’s only… are you sure?” Of course he’s sure. “If you wanted to take some time to think about it, or if you didn’t want to try at all, I’d understand. No hard feelings.” She laughs sadly. “I mean, who knows? You may not even like me anymore.”

That’s what finally pushes him past embarassment, past any worry about making her uncomfortable. Damn being eloquent. He just needs to say it.

“I don’t need time. I’d already thought about it when I gave the ring to you in the first place.” This time, he’s the one reaching across the table, taking her hand in his. “Doll, I knew we were both gonna change eventually. That’s just what happens as time passes. And my mind’s still made up that I’m gonna love each person you change into. I just wish…” Should he say this? Now or never. “… I wish I’d been there so we could’ve changed together.” She doesn’t look convinced. Alright, time to make things a little ridiculous.

“Are you still the girl who uses the humane mouse traps, has terrible taste in music, and drinks tea because coffee gives her the jitters?”

“Yes and no.” That’s not the answer he was expecting, but at least she’s smiling now. “I still use the no-kill traps, my taste in music was never terrible, excuse you, but coffee doesn’t give me the jitters since the super serum.”

“The what?!”

“Oh, right. You missed that part.”

It’s a long explanation, during which he has to almost completely shut down so he won’t show how much it’s affecting him, hearing how close she came to death that day, but by the end he’s even more certain of his decision.

“Then it’s just as I thought. You may have changed here and there, but at the core, you’re the same girl I fell for in Romania. And I’m still sure I want to marry her.”

Before she can stop it, a tear runs down her cheek. As she wipes it away, she asks,

“Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “But hey, from the sound of it, you’re a bad-ass now. You sure you want to marry an old man?” It works, and she laughs.

“Well, every bad-ass needs a sidekick, and you’ve got the credentials.”

He’s not sure why he asks, because it doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t blame her if there was someone else, but he needs to know just to put it to rest in his own mind.

“What, there weren’t any other applicants?”

“Nope. I held the position open for you.” He’s never been more excited to start a job in his entire life.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Did you know it was going to happen?” They’re in the back of one of Stark’s (or rather, Pepper’s) SUVs on the way home from Tony’s memorial service. The only major difference from the trip down is that Steve’s gone. He’s gone. Traveled back in time. She doesn’t know for certain, but she’s pretty sure he went back to live his life with Peggy. And now Bucky’s asking her if she had a vision, saw it coming.

“No.” That’s not entirely true. “I saw…” She sighs. “Something confusing, and I still don’t think it’s happened.”

He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he’s waiting for her to explain. Still, she takes a few moments to arrange her thoughts in a way that’ll make sense to someone on the outside. Finally, she thinks she has it figured out.

“I saw you sitting on Steve’s bed, and you were upset. I saw myself sit down next to you to try and comfort you. I didn’t know it would be because of this, but-” she starts to take his hand, but stops herself. What if he’s angry? “-I knew it would be sometime today, because of what we’re wearing.”

It’s quiet, deadly quiet, then-

“When?” It’s one word, but she knows what he means.

“Right after Bruce pushed the button.” Maybe she should’ve mentioned it, but she was hoping she was wrong, that Steve wasn’t going to die going back to return the stones to their proper timelines. Turns out she was indeed wrong. He’s not dead. In fact, he got a life.

“Okay.” She frowns. Surely that can’t be it.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s not like we could’ve stopped him, and I can’t blame him, ‘cause if it were me, that’s what I’d do. But-” He sniffs hard, and that’s when she realizes she’s not the only one trying not to cry. “-I’m gonna miss the punk.”

This time, she gives into her instincts and entwines their fingers, metal against flesh.

“I know you will. I know.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Even if they’ve lost their leaders, the world doesn’t stop spinning, and work doesn’t stop for the Avengers. Sooner or later, they have to regroup, take up the mantle of protecting Earth again. Bucky is surprised when not just Sam, but Rhodey as well asks him to be part of the team. Not just him, he mentally adds. No, they want her too.

“Is this gonna be an issue? You two working together?” She turns in his direction, an eyebrow raised in response to Rhodey’s question. He thinks he knows the answer.

“No. The plan already was to work together until one or the other of us drops.”

Sam cackles.

“Thought that thing on her finger looked familiar. Man, you couldn’t come up with a diamond? Not even a little one?” He catches her rolling her eyes, and fights back a laugh.

“How dangerous do you want her left hook to be, Sam?”

“Good point.”

It’s easily decided that he’ll be part of the main force, and she’ll be in the reserves. That means she’ll keep her job at an upstate community college, teaching English to adults, and he’ll… be doing a lot of paperwork.

What’s not so easily decided is when and how they’re going to make things official. His suggestion is they wait a year for the dust to settle and then do things the old fashioned way, white dress, church, and tux included. Hers is that they walk down to city hall and sign papers. In the end, it’s Pepper who makes the decision.

“Of course you’re having a real wedding. Don’t be silly. And you’ve already waited five years. Why would you want to wait one more?”

She makes polite protests on both their behalves that courthouse weddings are quick and easy, or if they waited a year, they could save up, sort more things out, but Pepper’s not having it, and in the end, they’ve set a date six months in the future, and the widowed Ms. Potts as elected herself the wedding planner. Bucky’s not at all sure about this (Pepper’s a multi-billionare after all, her tastes are probably a little on the extravagant side, and their idea of a “fancy” date has for the most part consisted of “not wearing sweats or pajamas and going somewhere that’s not the sofa in your appartment or mine” y’know, since they’re broke and have been in hiding), but then she pulls out the,

“Please. I need a project to concentrate on that doesn’t have anything to do with… you know. And, I’m paying.”

So of course, neither of them can say no. And really, if the options are wait a year or wait six months, he’ll take the shorter option any day.

He’s been staying in Steve’s apartment (knowing that he’s the one who killed Stark’s parents, he couldn’t bring himself to stay in Avengers H.Q.) since his best friend payed through the next month, but eventually, he has to figure out something else. He may be working for the good guys now, but the price on Brooklyn apartments has just gone through the roof since most people want their old places back, and it’s more than he makes.

He tries not to let on that he’s starting to get a little worried about things (is there anywhere even remotely nearby available at a price he can afford), but eventually it does come up that he’s apartment searching. She has an immediate, rational response:

“Then just move in with me.”

His poker face really must’ve gone to shit (at least around her), because she laughs and, catching a piece of popcorn on the edge of her tongue, asks,

“Come on, Buck. You’ve signed up for the rest of your life. Do you really think we’ll be sick of each other in five months?”

That’s not it, not by a long shot. It’s just that back in his day, moving in together without a trip to church and the exchange of both vows and rings was a way to guarantee whoever the unlucky girl was would be painted as a scarlet woman. It’s archaic, and logically he knows no one bats and eye now, but he still has to ask,

“You sure, Doll?”

She nods.

“Yeah, I have a couch that pulls out into a mattress. Or, if you promise to be a gentleman and keep your hands to yourself, you can have the empty side of my bed.” It’s a joke, and he knows it.

“Sorry. Can’t promise that.” His own smirk matches hers.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just be charitable and offer it to you anyway.”

[mellowrat21]

Rough Changes.

AU where the bullying Sal recieves from Travis, his school crush, gets so hard to him, it almost kills him, so he decides to close some cycles and get the hell out of the situation. Cw: mention of self harm, bullying, graphic violence, strong vocabulary, polyamorous relationships, mild (really really mild) implied sex scene(?, heavily loaded with angst. Fandom: Sally Face Words: 4800 Hope you enjoy it!

The first time Sally went out around Nockfell he used to wear a beanie to hide his bright, long, electric blue hair and wore discrete clothes, but as the time went by and he started hanging out with Larry, Ash and Todd, his confidence slowly started going higher and higher until he started going to school with his signature hairstyle, some hairpins and his favorite clothes, he was a cis guy, and he was bisexual, but who cared, everyone who saw him thought he was a girl and probably a lesbian since he hung out with Ashley so much. And he didn’t give a flying fuck about it, he wouldn’t make an effort to change his voice to make it sound “more feminine” or go to the women’s restroom because he didn’t feel the need to, he was a guy, period. Some people didn’t seem to agree and thought he was a trans guy or something, which was terribly stupid and Sal and his friends would always mock the people that harassed him on the streets “you will never be a real woman, you tranny!” or “no matter how many chemicals are in your body, you will always be a girl!”, people never knew if he was a girl or a boy, and that amused him a lot. But then, when they got to the middle of 8th grade, a new kid was introduced to his class, he was a tall, brown boy with shiny blonde hair, he had what appeared to be a bruise on his left eye but Sal thought it was rude to stare, so he lowered his head, wondering if it was a bruise or a birthmark. The kid got to sit beside him, they didn’t talk at all, if not just the common “hi” from when a new kid gets introduced to the class and you’re the one sitting next to them. Dear diary: Today in class there was a new kid, he is cute, I wanna be his friend and maybe share drawings or stickers or even Pokémon cards, what if he collects them too? I could find the ones I don’t have and he could benefit from mine too. He’s my age, his name is Travis. I think he’s religious, so not cool, religion is boring, I always sleep in religion class. I’m gonna ask him if he wants to sit with me at lunch, he might be lonely since he’s a new boy at school, I wanna be his first friend, I could even introduce him to the group!

Alright, gotta sleep, Sal out.

**

The alarm clock was buzzing, letting Sal know it was time to get out of bed and ready for a heavy Tuesday of school, he hated Tuesdays, no band club, no art classes, nothing, just geometry, math and a lot of history, Spanish and English, oh, and religion too. He got up and went to take a quick shower, it was cold and he didn’t really like turning the heater on, it was too noisy for being 6:40 in the morning the time he showered for school. When he got out of the shower, he put on his underwear and with a towel around his hair he sat on the sink to take care of his reddish scars, that day they were way more tender than usual, it stung and even hurt in some places the q-tip touched with the lotion. He sighed, getting back down from the sink and finding a meowing Gizmo on his bed, who stretched as soon as he saw his owner, asking him to pet him and rub his belly. “Aw hi little guy! Did you get some good sleep?” Sally asked in a tiny voice, thoroughly shaking Gizmo’s big belly, he earned a purry meow from him, who got up and walked out of the room to get food. Sal let out a breathy giggle and started going through his closet, thinking what he should wear; he found a white skirt he thought was really cute, tried it on but found out it was way too short and it showed the scars on his thighs, he didn’t want any more visits to the school counselor for self-harm even though his scars were a combination of cuts made by him and scratches made by Gizmo. He decided to stop thinking so much and just grabbed a pair or ripped black skinny jeans with patches and chains Larry had gifted him for his 15th birthday and a pastel blue gloomy bear t-shirt to go with it, by the time he tied his usual blue converse he thought of grabbing a hoodie, so he grabbed a red zip-up hoodie and threw it on before he went to get some breakfast, some peach slices and Greek yogurt did the job and after a little bit of him styling his hair with his dryer and iron, he went to brush his teeth, he grabbed his bag after putting his prosthetic on and headed out. On the way he found Larry, with whom he went to the bus stop while chatting a little bit. “hey Lar, did you see the new kid?” Sal asked, eager to hear the answer, he was so interested in him, he was excited to know him. “uh yeah, that Travis boy? He’s chill, why? Larry said, munching on a chocolate chip cookie that might be his breakfast, he had his hair tied back in a messy bun which showed he didn’t shower, and those bruise-like bags under his eyes made clear he didn’t sleep either. “huh? What do you mean chill, did you talk to him?” Sal’s eyelids perked up, surprised by his friend talking about his interesting future new friend. “oh hell no, he’s religious, I would never get near a religious guy, they’re scary with all their crazy ‘god loves you’ shit” Larry shivered jokingly, earning an annoyed sigh from Sal, who playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “he can’t be that bad bro, he’s 14, he probably just uses the cross necklace because his dad makes him.” Sal tried to shrug it off, then the bus came and they got on. While looking for a seat, Sal spotted a blonde head, and when he got closer, low and behold, it was Travis. He was talking to another blue haired kid that attended their school, but they suddenly locked eye contact and Sal smiled to him, only to remember he couldn’t see it, so he shakingly waved until Larry softly pushed him to sit behind Travis and the other boy that was there. “come on dude, you’re gonna fall if you stay there!” Larry tugged on his hoodie, which made him sigh and sit next to his friend, his face red as a cherry and the blush spreading to his ears. That was so embarrassing… “woah woah dude are you okay? Do you have like a fever or something? Your face is hot as fuck and your so re- AH DUDE NOT COOL!!” Larry said worried, getting elbowed on the stomach by his flustered friend who was literally shaking on his seat. “i-I am- I’m okay it’s j-ju-just I-… fuuuuck” Sal stammered out, not being able to form a sentence from how hard he was shaking, then he hear a gasp from the

seat in front of him. “what? Are you- are you a boy?” a flustered, weirded out Travis was looking at him, he looked disgusted and scared. “uh m-me? I- I… yes, I’m a boy…” Sal stuttered again, scared, the first words they exchanged and they were not at all the ones he expected. “what the- ugh, boys don’t wear skirts, you shouldn’t wear that kind of attires, it’s ungodly.” The disgust in Travis’ face was growing with every word and Sal was literally at the verge of tears from how scared he was, even though he had picked a gender neutral looking outfit he got a bad comment, from the boy he wanted to be friends with. Sal tried to talk but the words were stuck in his mouth, when a sudden movement startled him to the point he yelped. “yo, clothes don’t have gender. Go fuck with someone else smartass.” Larry had jerked up from his sit, completely angered and with a threatening stand. Travis got scared himself and he just turned around mumbling something under his breath. Sal was silently crying, little sobs slipped from under the mask his day didn’t start well at all and he had heard what the boy in front of him had mumbled.

He called him a faggot.

His day went on horribly, boring classes, all of them where he sat next to the boy who he had a little crush on, it was all wrong, all he wanted to do was go home and curl up in a ball to cry, and cry and cry. Before lunch started, he got up rather quickly, Travis used the opportunity to trip him and he fell over, he scratched both his knees and it wanted to make him cry again, and it did, he just ran to the restrooms and locked himself in a stall, hugging his legs and silently crying again, what a shit day, he just wanted it to end already. The urge was suddenly unbearable, he needed to get himself off of that situation, he reached to his hoodie pockets and pulled out a little envelope that contained a stainless steel blade he hadn’t used in a while. He then pulled his sleeves up and angrily started making multiple deep cuts in every dimension, that made him sob and gasp, and when he was done, he was just a mess of blood and tears, he reached for the toilet paper and luckily for him, there was, so he quickly put it on the wounds and made some pressure until the blood was almost gone, he pulled the sleeves back down and sighed, he wasn’t relieved, but he wasn’t around Travis so he was good for a while. Then he remembered his next class was religion, fuck no, he was going to the principle to ask him to call his dad, he needed to go home, he couldn’t resist any more time with Travis let alone it being in religion class, fucking religion class, that was the last thing he wanted to happen to him. After he decided he was calling his dad to go home, he got off the toilet and opened up the stall door slowly as to not find any “unwanted guests”. Once he double-checked and triple-checked he was able to get out of there an run to the principal’s office, only to blink and open his eyes back up at a hospital room, surrounded by Larry, Ashley, Todd, Todd’s boyfriend (he didn’t remember his name) and his dad, all looking both worried and relieved. “oh my god, he’s awake!” Ashley almost yelled, rushing to hold his friends hand. “huh…? Wha- what am I doing here?” Sal asked, looking around, noticing his arms were uncovered, showing his fresh cuts and the catheter where the liquids where flowing. “uh, you passed out and Larry found you completely splattered on the ground, your hoodie was soaked in blood so he told us and we rushed you to the hospital. It seemed like you lost a lot of blood, Sally, what’s wrong?” Todd talked, looking concerned. “Salvatore, please tell me you’re not going to start cutting yourself again, I already signed a document to refuse your admission to the mental hospital, I know you don’t wanna go back there and I don’t want you to go either, that place only drugs you and prevents you from everything…” Henry spoke, worry and sadness gushing out of his mouth while he talked. Tears started falling down Sal’s eyes, he was mortified, and now he was in the fucking hospital, he was sure this was a nightmare, he needed to wake up, he needed to fucking- “SAL, WAKE UP!!” Larry said, worried and scared, it had been a day since Sal got out of the hospital and he stopped going to school for a while, Larry was taking care of him every day after school to make sure he was eating and cleaning himself, he was worried his best friend would kill himself if he spent too many time alone and he wasn’t risking losing another loved one. Never again. Sal jerked awake, all startled by his friend’s yelling. “what do you want Larry…” annoyed by his sudden awakening, Sal rolls over on the bed and starts falling back asleep. “I brought you some pancakes and chocolate milk… I know you like them…” Larry sighed out, he was sad to see his best friend like that, he hated it, he fucking hated whatever was going on with him to make him that depressed. Sal sat up and started eating bit by bit, the bandages on his arms were getting loose and a bit gooey, so after Sal finished eating, Larry carried him piggyback to the bathroom to clean him up.

That was only the beginning of the worst four years of his life, days of never ending bullying, depressive episodes, fights, detentions, panic attacks and breakdowns.

**

Last break of their last year of school was nearing in, that was the last day of school before break and they’d be back for a month and a half more of school and everything would be over. Sal was excited because he was going on a field trip with the squad, not knowing those plans were going to be completely crushed by goody two-shoes blonde fuck Travis, who had woke up that last day of school and chose complete violence. That day was living hell for Sal, he never stopped mocking him and calling him names, but Sal just pretended to ignore him, until… “Hey freak, you faceless faggot motherfucker, did your mommy do your hair for you? It looks shitty! Oh wait, no she didn’t. why, you ask? OH YEAH, BECAUSE SHE’S DEAD, SHE MUST BE CRINGING AND CRYING IN HER GRAVE BECAUSE SHE’S ASHAMED OF YOU, ABOMINATION, UNGODLY MONSTER” Travis was following him around, tugging at his hair and pushing his head around, until Sal snapped. He didn’t say anything, just a hit, square in the nose, a loud crack and a scream followed, Sal just kept hitting and hitting until Larry had to physically drag him away, he was frozen, scared, absolutely terrified of himself, of what he did. Luckily it was finally break time and he got to dip out of there, he locked himself at home and ravaged the tree on his backyard, then when he was tired of it, he decided to go back inside and look at himself in the mirror, he then found himself staring down to a pair of scissors on his nightstand. His breath became shaky and anxious, he didn’t want to do it, he made him do it, it was all his fault, all his fault, he fucking did it. “LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID, TRAVIS FUCKING PHELPS!” he cried out, yelling and shaking after he looked at himself back in the mirror, his pretty blue long locks were completely gone, leaving him with a mess of hair, he didn’t want it anymore, he didn’t want to look like a girl, he didn’t want to be bullied anymore, he didn’t deserve it. “I am a man, I was born a man, I will die a man, and if I am a man I will fucking behave like one. Did you fucking hear me, Phelps!? IM GONNA BE WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE, A FUCKING GUY, NOT THE UNGODLY FAGGOT YOU ALWAYS SAW ON ME!! ARE YOU HAPPY? ARE YOU GLAD?! FUCK YOU! YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS! ME! THE ONE WHO ALWAYS THOUGHT FONDLY OF YOU, THE ONE THAT THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST SCARED OF ME! The one who… the one… the one who fucking liked you…” Sally couldn’t speak anymore, he was shaking, sobbing and crying out loud on the bathroom floor, just to stare back up and find Larry and Ashley looking down at him, both crying, completely worried and scared of what they were looking at. Larry picked him up as he drifted away, passing out from all the crying. They let him sleep, he was sleeping soundly as the other two were slowly falling asleep by his sides. When he woke up he found them sleeping there, he woke them up too since he had an enormous headache and needed some assistance. “Lar… b-bring me some medicine please my head hurts like hell…” He went to grab onto his locks and all he found was a nest of tangled up short hair, he found himself scared but then remembered what happened before he went out and tears started gushing out of his eyes. “fuck, I really did it, I cut my fucking hair.” Sal unbelievably laughed, a melancholic laugh. Larry got up and Ash stayed there, hugging him softly. “don’t worry, blue, I’ll take you to a salon after you take your medicine and we’ll get that mess fixed, alright?” Ash held his hand, reassuringly squishing it softly. Sal nodded then looked up when he saw Larry pop out of the doorframe holding a pill and a glass of water which he gave him to drink. “So dude… after you get the haircut… do you wanna go get some food and maybe get high at the abandoned house down the hill? I know Ash is out of this because she has to babysit her brother but we can go if you want.” Larry asks rather shyly, trying not to give Sal any strong emotions. “I’ll take the food offer, but no weed for me today, this headache will get fucking worse if I even get near the stuff” Larry nodded, joining the hug

after Sal had swallowed the pill, closing his eyes at the pleasuring hug. After the pill kicked in and Sal was no longer in pain, the three young adults went to the hair salon to get Sal a haircut, then the other two sat back reading awfully boring magazines. Mid haircut, Sal asked the stylist to dye his hair black, he wanted to change himself completely, never look back at himself how he used to be. They finished washing his hair and he went to show his friends who looked completely dumbfounded by the new look, so dumbfounded Sal started to worry. “guys? What is it? Do-does it look bad? Do I change it or-“ he was cut off by a wave of NO’s from both of them, they were both in love with what they saw before them, they rushed to hug him and cradle him, Larry cried, because he loved him, he loved every single piece of his existence and now he looked so different, not happier, but completely different, he was proud of him, of his baby, not blue anymore.

**

The road trip never happened, but they stayed together at Sal’s house the whole break since Henry was away for a business trip that meant a lot of money coming to them afterwards. The three spent the break like a little family, they tried doing all sorts of things, like cooking, hiking, stargazing, burning all Sal’s “feminine” stuff as a symbolic sacrifice (even if Ashley wanted to keep the makeup and some stockings he had) and well, other kind of stuff between the three of them. The day they had go back to school went… not so badly. The squad had agreed not to talk to Sal a lot at school so people thought he was just absent or something, and it worked out until some person started to suspect. “hey, you, uh… Salvatore?” Travis approached the guy shyly, tapping his shoulder. “yeah?” Sal tried to lower his voice to confuse the oblivious blonde even more. “well I wanted to talk to you about something, in private, so… do you mind going with me to the school’s auditorium? I promise it’ll not take long.” Travis stepped a little further from him as to not scare him. “uh yeah sure, why not.” He nodded and followed behind, not too closely, while he texted his partners about it, he was shaking, scared and stressed about what might happen there. Porcelain doll: school auditorium, quick, heading there with Travis, apparently he wants to talk about something.

Ashey<3: oooo someone is getting confessed to!!!

Lar-Bear: be there in 3 minutes, dragging Ash with me if something happens.

Porcelain doll: nice, thanks babe.

Ashey<3: no worries boo ~

Lar-Bear: we love you, Torey.

Sal sighed in relief knowing his boyfriend and girlfriend were going to be around if something bad happened, so he ruffled his hair and jogged a bit, trying to keep up the pace. When they got there, Travis pushed the big doors to the entrance, the dim lighted room was scary enough with the theatre people in it, let alone it being completely empty, except for Ash and Larry who were hiding in the console room.

Travis cleared his throat, he was… nervous? Maybe Sal was imagining it, there’s no way that motherfucker was nervous.

“so… what did you wanna talk about?” Sal spit out rather venomously, stressed and annoyed by Travis’ presence.

“I promise it wouldn’t take long so it won’t. Salvatore Fisher, Sally Face, I wanted to tell you I’m absolutely sorry for what I did to you, all those years of suffering because of my fear of… of… uh… of…” Travis was struggling to take it out, he was disgusted by his own words though he knew he had to say it somehow. “of liking another man, of liking you, Sal… I was taking it all out on you and you didn’t deserve it, I’m working on myself, on becoming a better person for you, because I know how much damage I caused you on the outside, but on the inside, I know I left you a wound that is rotting and I will never know how deep it is.”

“Bro. You waited four years. Four fucking whole years to apologize for something you did to me every day nonstop, the words, the names, the hits, the hair pulling, all of that, and now you’re just telling me that you’re sorry? What do you expect? That I fall on your arms, begging you to hold me and forgiving you right away? Fuck no. Totally not. I will never forget what you did to me, and you know what? Fuck you. You’re the fucking faggot, you’re the one that deserves to get your shit rocked every single day of the rest of your fucking existence. You’re the sissy, little blondie piss baby, what’re you gonna do, huh? Cry out to daddy for him to save you? Only sissies cry, Travis, man the fuck up and piss your pants anywhere else but near me.” Sal gushed every word that came out of his mouth so naturally it was like he had rehearsed that speech a thousand times. He pushed him, making him trip over his feet and fall to the ground before he left, fuming, at the verge of tears, and before he closed the doors of the auditorium he yelled “FUCK YOU TRAVIS PHELPS, EVEN IF I STILL LOVED YOU, I WOULD NEVER TOUCH YOUR FILTHY FLESH IN MY MISERABLE LIFE, Y’KNOW!?” and with that said, he slammed the door behind him, actually hearing rushed footsteps from the other side. Todd and Larry were waiting for him outside but Sal ignored them, he was too busy wiping the tears off of his face as his legs gave in and let him sit on the floor, resting his back against a stack of lockers nearby. Travis barged out of the auditorium, tears desperately streaming down his face, yelling out for Sal. “SAL PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I LOVE YOU WITH MY LIFE AND IM SORRY I HURT YOU SO MUCH PLEASE JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER!!” Travis was full on begging, he needed him so bad but Todd and Larry stopped him, Larry had hit him square in the face while on the floor Todd kicked him on the side, completely angered to see how poor Sally was crying too, with Ashley by his side hugging him and comforting him, they would never let Travis get near Sal, ever again. Since the principal actually knew Sal and Travis situation, he didn’t end up expelling anyone and didn’t give them detention, Travis, Todd and Larry were given a warning and Ash was congratulated because of how good of a job she did comforting Sally while he was having his panic attack. Finally they got to go home and do their homework and onto the next day.

**

Finally, the school year, graduation and prom had been completely over, and Ash, Sal and Larry were moving out of Nockfell to live together in the city since Larry had gotten a job and Sal was planning to start university with Ash, they were both planning on enrolling in art school even though Sal wasn’t too excited about it since he wasn’t as good at art as Larry and Ashley were, but they both always reminded him that he doesn’t need to be good, he needs to be passionate. That way he would finally get better.

The news of the moving got to Travis, so, as a goodbye present, he left a letter and some candy for Sal in his letterbox, promising him and himself that they would never cross each other ever again. Sal thought it was a cute gesture, maybe in another life they would’ve been together, but in this one, they just peacefully drifted away after all the suffering they felt throughout the years. He went in to smoke some weed, he took the letter with him and read it out loud, he cried a little while, and after that he just burned the letter and went back into the empty house. Ash greeted him with a soft kiss on the lips and smiled. “The moving crew called, they’ll be here in ten minutes. Lar is upstairs saying his last goodbyes to the house.” Ash kissed his forehead and let him go with a playful spank on his butt, making both of them giggle. When Sal went up he found Larry crying, he softly approached him and sat beside him, hugging him tightly.

“hi doll, sorry you get to see me like this, I got nostalgic and I was thinking of how glad my mom would be to know that I found a job, that I have a beautiful loving relationship and that I’m moving out with them, with the beautiful people I love.” Larry sobbed onto Sally’s chest and he howled as soon as the words left Larry’s mouth.

“I’m sure little old Lisa is really fucking proud of you, of me and of Ashey, like, we’re both successful young adults and we’re taking off, we’re living our lives just like Lisa, my dad and Ashley’s wanted, so never doubt it, they’re all pretty proud of you, bear.” Sally reassured him with a big smile, Larry kissed him softly then pulled out with a huge smile.

“good god Torey, I love you so fucking much.” They ended up cuddling on the beanbag they didn’t pack, it was big enough to fit three people there, so they were comfortable, kissing and cuddling there. They started getting heated up and kissing more aggressively. Rough kissing and hickeys, until Ashley interrupted them.

“I knew I was hearing my little porcelain doll moaning, why am I not invited again?” They all laughed and pulled her onto the beanbag, but then again there was another interruption, the doorbell rang, the moving crew was there, they started loading the stuff to the moving truck and the other stuff inside Larry’s truck, then took off, they were leaving, finally leaving that damn town, the memories, the suffering, off to a new life, a better life where they had love to give and receive, wealth and success, so they weren’t sad. Obviously they were nostalgic, but never sad.

They finally got to the new house, it was big and pretty, the furniture looked perfect and the bedroom was cozy and welcoming. They were so tired that day, they just slept through the whole night and the next half of the day.

There their life started, their new life, where the worries were different and the old problems were nowhere to be seen, and they were happy, they were completely free. Free, loved and happy, just how they deserved.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,190 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! A/N: This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6 :: Part 7.

Your name: submit What is this?

Some years ago

“Fuck!” you slammed a hand against the steel door, but it was useless. You had heard the heavy bolt click into place clearly and with a resonate echo heavy with foreboding. You were trapped. “Goddammit!” You suppressed the urge to kick the door, knowing that at best you’d end up with a broken toe and no closer to freedom. “Now what? We honestly should have expected something like this from Bobby...”

Dean was moving around behind you, searching every square inch of the room for some hint of how to deactivate whatever panic button you and he had unknowingly switched on. “Yeaaaah. Should have predicted that we wouldn’t be able to swing by and a have a quick, flawless search.”

You leaned your back against the door and rested your head against it. “I figured it wouldn’t be flawless considering the sheer amount of papers and books in the house—it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack—but I did not expect to be locked in a windowless panic room.” You shut your eyes. “Fuck.”

Dean straightened up, disheartened. He scratched the back of his head and peered down at the panel he had just discovered. “Well… here’s something…” he said, but you noted that he didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

Dean blew out a long exhale and straightened up. Your hand dropped from his shoulder. “Yep. We are pretty fucked,” he agreed.

You stared up at the ceiling. “This has got to be solid iron. An underground panic room—no cell service. Complicated electrical panel. Probably requires a numeric password or something, which was known by one person who is now deceased. Guessing he probably also programmed it so we only are allowed a limited amount of wrong guesses before something horrible happens to us in here. Locked in,” you summarized, finally catching Dean’s eyes. “Great.”

Dean sighed again, at a loss for what to do next. “The downside is that this place was set up by Bobby. But… on the other hand, the upside is that this place was set up by Bobby,” Dean said, gesturing to the shelves stacked to the ceiling with supplies—jugs of drinking water, MREs, emergency blankets, flashlights and headlamps, sleeping pads, medical supplies, everything one could want while trying to surf out a zombie invasion or the apocalypse. There was even an actual bathroom, which you had both first mistook for being a closet.

“Wait—wait! What is that? What IS that?!” You said, pointing vehemently at a shape behind Dean so shrouded in dust it was almost camouflaged into the wall. “Is that a fucking landline?”

Dean followed your gaze. “It looks like it,” he said guardedly.

Then reality crashed down on you. The likelihood that that old line was still functional was probably in the 0.000 – 0.001% range. “Please tell me there is a dial tone,” you said, looking desperately at Dean.

He laughed gruffly. “I will bet you $500 that there isn’t.”

“Do you even have $500?” you countered.

“Thanks to Mr. Chip Killway and his checking account I have more than that,” he said with a smirk.

You laughed. “Chip Killway? What the hell kind of name is that?”

“I know, right?” Dean said. “I thought he sounded douchey. Makes me feel less guilty about stealing his money.” Dean stepped around some boxes and hovered a hand over the phone. “So, are you in? $500?” he joked.

“It’s somehow less enticing now that I know it isn’t your money,” you replied with a smirk.

“Alright—fine. If there IS a dial tone when I pick up this phone, I will take off all my clothes. If there isn’t, you take off all YOUR clothes.” He finished with a boyish smirk and wiggled his eyebrows at you. You crossed your arms and gave him an appraising look, trying to ignore the rush of heat you felt in your cheeks.

“How is that fair? I lose either way.”

“Oh! Ow! Ouch!” Dean dramatically clutched a hand to his chest, eliciting a light laugh from you.

“Would you just pick up the phone, you idiot?”

Dean lifted the mustard-colored, plastic receiver and held it up to his ear. “Nothing,” he said. “Sorry, Y/N. Time to get naked.”

“Dean!”

“I don’t make the rules—”

“You literally made up those rules—”

“Don’t hate the player—hate the game,” he said.

You rolled your eyes at him and sat down on a nearby crate. “Okay, Casanova. In all seriousness, what are we going to do here?”

“I think we only have one option.”

“Dean, if you say ‘get naked’ one more time I will shoot you with this flare gun—”

“God, get your mind out of the gutter, you perv. Jesus…” You chucked a package of dehydrated food at him and he laughed. “I was going to say ‘wait.’”

You groaned. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Sam won’t be here for another day or two and then who knows how long it’s going to take him to figure out a way to get us out of here.”

“Well… if he tries to call us and gets no answer he will probably get worried, and he’ll probably hurry…” Dean ran a hand through his hair and set aside his jesting at the worried expression on your face, your characteristic knit brow, with the little worry line appearing by your left eyebrow. “Hey. We’re fine. We’ve got everything we need in here—it’ll be okay.”

You chewed your bottom lip. That wasn’t exactly what had you so agitated. “I know. I know. We’re—we’ll be fine…”

Suddenly, the air was as thick as molasses as Dean and you both realized that you were trapped together in a confined space. Alone. Unlikely to be interrupted. For an extended period of time. The hair on the back of your neck stood up like a chill breeze had just rushed over your skin.

You’d spent time alone together before. Of course, you had… but there was always some life or death crisis to draw your attention or the chance that Cas or Sam would walk in at any moment. Or as soon as you started to feel—something—one or the other made some excuse to leave or break the tension or back away from it...

Even now just at the thought of it your heart was racing and you suddenly couldn’t think of a damn thing to talk about—to say to him.

You watched him looking over the contents of the shelves, the muscles in his back easily visible through his thin t-shirt as he moved boxes and bins around. You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Guess we have some time to kill,” he said, grabbing something from the top shelf and turning around, immediately catching your gaze. You both looked at each other for a moment and then down at the sleeping pad in his hands and back up at each other. You felt yourself blushing more fervently and quickly averted your eyes while Dean laughed nervously.

“Heh—for—for the floor. For sitting on! Um,” he scruffed a hand through his hair awkwardly, feeling heat rising in his chest. Smooth, Dean. Smooth. God, what was wrong with him? Suddenly he felt like a giddy school boy. Why did that always happen around you? He’d be fine one minute and then the next—BAM! His heart would start racing and he would suddenly be very aware of the color of your eyes and the sparks of light they threw and the shade of pink of your lips and their perfect Cupid’s bow and the way you would chew on the bottom one when you were thinking and— “Do you want one? To sit on?” he offered. You waved him off.

“Maybe later,” you said. There was a long silence and the air was still heavy as you avoided each other’s eyes, trying to think of something to say. You swallowed at the lump in your throat, willing it to disappear to no avail. What the fuck?! This was Dean! You’d lived in the bunker together for years! You’d seen each other on your worst and best days. You’d tolerated early morning and late-night bad moods. You’d patched each other up after hunts—though you admitted that the intimacy of that sometimes got to you. Christ, why did this always happen?? What was wrong with you?!

“Hey,” Dean said suddenly.

“Yeah?” You seized on it, hoping he had some topic of conversation in mind which would distract you from how goddamn green his eyes were.

“Wanna play a game?”

“…like?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “20 questions?”

You laughed. “What, are we eight?”

Dean laughed gruffly. “Alright. Fair… Umm… Never Have I Ever?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a drinking game?”

He gave you a knowing smirk, and pulled a bottle of whiskey off a nearby shelf. “You’re goddamn right it is.”

You looked at him hesitantly, one eyebrow raised, studying him. “I don’t know…”

The green in Dean’s eyes seemed to spark. “Come on! It’ll be fun! I promise I will keep my hands to myself when you are inevitably waaay more intoxicated than me,” he grinned.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him for a long moment. “Well… there’s nothing else to do. I guess this could be interesting,” you said.

Dean settled more comfortably on the sleeping pad he was sitting on. “Oh, yeah. I plan on finding out all kinds of new things about you,” he joked.

You laughed, but you did suddenly feel a little warm and you were quite sure your face was tinged pink. “Be careful. You might.” You wondered just what you were getting yourself into.

Dean gave you an unsure look, but smiled. “Okay. I’ll go first.” He thought for a moment and then cleared his throat. A wide smile grew on his face. “Never have I ever crashed my car into a fire hydrant.”

Your mouth dropped open. His expression was smug. “Hey, that was—I had a head injury!”

“So? You still did it. Drink!”

You bit your bottom lip and looked at him with a tight smile. “So, that is how you’re gonna play it, hmm?”

Dean laughed. The gruffness of his laugh with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners killed you every time. “That’s how I’m gonna play it.” He shrugged.

“Fine. Give me that,” you said, snatching the whiskey bottle from him with a sassy look and taking a sip. “My turn.” You seized him up with your eyes.

“Never have I ever… had a one night stand.” You punctuated the end of the sentence by shoving the whiskey bottle back at Dean and giving him a satisfied smile.

He took it begrudgingly but there was a curious expression on his face. “Wait… seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” you said. You felt your cheeks growing a little pink again. “What?”

Dean shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. “I don’t know. I’m just surprised I guess. I mean, you’re—” he cut himself off, and suddenly looked down at his feet. “Uhh…”

“I’m what?” you pressed him.

He shrugged. “I guess it’s just not your style,” he said. It wasn’t really a question. “Can’t imagine you never had the opportunity,” he said a little sheepishly, avoiding your eyes. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously.

You nodded, catching his eyes again. The warmth in your face was growing and you were quite positive it was bright red. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Yeah… Not my style. I’ve never been good at—at just sex.”

“You’re not good at sex?” he joked. “Damn, what a disappointment. Well, I could give you some pointers… Maybe help you practice—”

“Dean! You know what I said!” Dean laughed heartily and caught your eyes again. “Your turn, Winchester. What have you got?”

Dean decided to go a little more serious after that last one. “Right. Umm… Never have I ever—been to Prom?” He looked at you questioningly for a few seconds but you showed no sign of reaching for the bottle to take a drink.

You only gave him a small smile.

“Wow, I thought for sure I would get you on that one. You didn’t go to Prom?”

You shook your head. “Nope. No Prom.”

“Why not?” Dean asked, studying your expression.

Your eyes turned downward and for a moment Dean thought you were blinking back some emotion. In another second, you were back to your old self, giving him a sarcastic smile. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever,’ not ‘20 Questions’.”

Dean let you get away with the deflection, but he could sense that there was something there you were holding back… “Alright, alright. Um. Never Have I ever…” Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at you, “flirted with a bald valet for information!”

“What?! That is WAY too specific!”

“Hey, we didn’t lay out any ground rules! That is totally valid!” he argued back.

“That was for a case! You’re such an ass!” You grabbed another dried food packet and whipped it at him, catching him in the chest. Dean tossed his head back and laughed before shoving the whiskey bottle at you.

You snatched it and took a sip. “Oof,” you said, swallowing the burn in your throat. “Should have known Bobby would have booze in his end-of-days bunker.” You were definitely starting to feel that familiar giddiness, a warm buzz from the liquor.

“The man kept a well-stocked pantry, that’s for damn sure,” Dean said, admiration clear on his face.

“Never have I ever been arrested,” you said with a wide, satisfied smile. “I feel like you should drink like ten times for this one,” you said, handing the bottle back to Dean. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, rolling his eyes at you, and you startled a little at the contact. It was like a hot spark had jumped up your arm.

“In our line of work, if you haven’t been arrested, you’re doing something wrong,” he argued, pointing vehemently in your direction. He took a big swig and smacked his lips afterwards.

“Nah, I’m just a waaaay smoother talker than you. I should have been arrested,” you counted on your fingers, “six times.”

“Six?”

“Six. Also, it helps that I’m much, much cuter than you,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him.

A small smile accompanied by a peculiar expression came over Dean’s face. “I can’t argue with that…” he said.

You felt yourself blush and stood up. “Umm, bathroom break,” you said. Ugh. Chicken! you mentally scolded yourself. There you went again… as soon as you started to feel something you tucked your tail and ran the other way. What were you so afraid of?

“I’ll be here,” Dean replied, leaning back so he was laying flat on his back on the sleeping pad he had spread out.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re drunk,” Dean accused you, laughing at how you had just slurred your words.

“You’re drunk!” you argued back, indignant.

“Not as drunk as you,” Dean said, shaking his head, a wide smile still on his lips. “Here. C’mere. Give me that,” he said, taking the whiskey bottle from you. Dean stood up and capped it, replacing it on a nearby shelf. “We need to get some food and some water in you,” he said. “Or you’re gonna have a wicked hangover tomorrow and I don’t want to be trapped in here with you in that state.”

“Whatever. I’m a delight,” you said.

Dean was digging through some of the dehydrated food packs on the shelves. “Do you want beef stew orrrr… hmm--beef stew?”

“I guess I’ll take beef stew.”

“Beef stew it is!”

You crossed the room to another set of shelves and stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach the sleeping pads and the sleeping bags, tired of sitting on a crate. Your balance, however, was somewhat compromised due the imbibed whiskey and you knocked a plastic water jug off a high shelf when you mis-stepped while reaching for what you wanted. “Shit!”

You ducked the water jug, but if Dean hadn’t quickly turned and steadied you, you would have been splayed out on the floor, possibly with a new bump on the back of your head. The cookware that had been in Dean’s hands was clattering and ringing on the floor harshly but the two of you were frozen. Dean’s hands were on your hips. He watched your lips part slightly and his heart was hammering in his chest. The way you were looking up at him, your eyes a little wide with surprise but fixated on his—he gulped at the sudden tightness in his throat. But he suddenly realized that the moment he should have let go of you was long past and he quickly withdrew. “You okay?” he asked.

You couldn’t get any words out as you stepped back from him and you only nodded.

He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, still taking in your expression. “Heh—I told you you’re drunk.” He turned and grabbed a sleeping pad and sleeping bag for you from the shelf.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said, still a little stunned. “Umm, you always did have good reflexes.” Dean clenched and unclenched his hands a couple times, trying to shake the tingly feeling in his fingers.

He nodded. “No problem.”

Dean picked up the cookware and you set up the sleeping pad and sleeping bag on the floor, trying to get as comfortable as you could. You felt suddenly sober and you couldn’t figure out if it was almost cracking your head open or Dean’s hands on your hips that had done it… but you suspected the latter. You could still almost feel the weight of them on you and god, your heart was absolutely pounding.

A half hour later you and Dean had both eaten and he had insisted on continuously refilling your cup with water. You did the clean up after your camp-style dinner and when you finished you noticed Dean flopped down on his sleeping pad, paging through a book.

You sank down next to him. “What’s that?”

He flipped another page, a vague crooked smile growing on his face. “I haven’t seen this in… probably ten, maybe fifteen years,” he said. He partially closed it so you could see the cover.

“Monsters and Myths,” you read aloud.

“When Sammy and I were little, my Dad would drop us off here at Bobby’s if he had a hunt he didn’t want us anywhere near, or if there was a job in the area. I would sneak this book off the shelves and we’d stay up late looking through it, reading about all the monsters and talking about how Dad would take them down—whether he had ever fought any of them for real. It used to scare the crap out of us,” he laughed gruffly.

“It’s kind of still scary now,” you said. “Knowing a lot of these probably do actually exist.” You leaned toward him to read the entry he was on about Kludde, a Flemish beast from Belgian folklore that wandered the countryside in the form of a massive, winged, black wolf.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “It’s weird though. I wonder why Bobby chose this out of all his books as one to bring into the panic room,” he said.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he had memories about it just like you do. Nothing got past Bobby. I’m sure he knew you used to sneak it off the shelves.” Dean looked over at you and met your eyes. You were side by side, both laying spread out on the floor. You were close. Your faces were only a few inches apart, both propped up on your elbows. “Probably some of his fondest memories of Little Dean and Little Sammy,” you said with a small smile. “They would be good company if the world outside was burning.”

Dean felt like he melted. He loved that little smile—it filled your whole face with light and warmth. It felt like all the air in the room had stopped moving and the stillness was electric. You held his eyes as long as you dared before you shyly blinked away and looked down at your hands. But Dean was still studying your face, and he turned more toward you.

“Will you tell me?”

You gave him a questioning look.

“About Prom. Why you didn’t go.”

Your brow automatically drew down over your eyes and your lips pouted in a soft frown. You considered his question for a long moment, and then spoke with some effort. “My dad was sick,” you said with a sad smile, your eyes a little misty. You shrugged. “Prom wasn’t important.”

Dean easily recognized the grief in your eyes. “I’m sorry. What was it?”

You cleared your throat to ease the tightness from emotion there. “Pancreatic cancer. He passed away the summer before my senior year in high school.”

“God, I’m sorry.” Dean watched you fighting emotion.

You nodded and forced yourself to heave in a shaky breath. “Yeah. It was hard.”

“You never said anything to me or Sammy before.”

You shrugged. “It’s still hard to talk about. And—everyone has lost someone one way or another.” Your eyes found Dean’s again and you felt a chill, or electricity run up your back.

Suddenly, Dean reached up and gently moved a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gentle on your skin. His eyes seemed to be flitting between yours and your lips and you felt like there was something pulling you toward him—something magnetic, and you wanted to give into it so badly. You were teetering on the edge. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and that’s when Dean couldn’t stand it anymore. He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips meeting yours, and you leaned into him desperately, feeling his hand gently cupping your face, his fingers trailing softly down your neck. That kiss stoked a wave of warmth in your chest and you relished his lips on yours, soft at first, but growing more pleading, more passionate, almost desperate, like a dam had broken.

But all of a sudden, Dean pulled back and his eyes were searching your face, his lips still just inches from yours. “Wait—” he said, his voice a little raspy, “—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—you’re drunk.” It took every ounce of his willpower to break contact with you.

You couldn’t have looked away from his green eyes if you had wanted to, the fire in them was all consuming. “No,” you said vaguely, breathlessly, one corner of your mouth curving up in a smile. “I’m not anymore.”

That was all Dean needed to hear. “Oh, thank God.” He crashed into you again, even more hungrily now and you gave in, eagerly wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his hands in your hair and tracing your curves. Soon you were both pressed together completely, your legs tangled with his. Dean’s tongue flitted over your bottom lip. You parted yours and he kissed you more deeply, with more fire. And then he was over you and you were flat on your back. You slipped one hand barely underneath the hem of his shirt and your fingers floated over his skin, across his back, tickling at his hip, sending tingles up his spine, making him smile into the kiss. Dean slid a hand over the silky skin on your arm, pressing it up over your head, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing you more insistently, his hips pressing into you.

You slid your fingers into his hair and were lost. Both of you were lost in that kiss—it was fireworks, it was heat, it was—it was so much better than either of you could have guessed. It was effortless, kissing him. Your lips and bodies moved in sync without thought.

Finally, Dean’s kiss grew softer again and he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. Both of you were out of breath, and smiles grew on your faces. You felt your cheeks coloring bright red, and you bit your bottom lip. Dean rested his forehead against yours and he shut his eyes, still riding the wave of that high.

“That was…” but he didn’t even have a word for it.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“I—I better just try to be a gentleman and stop here or I will not be responsible for my actions,” he said with a gruff laugh, repositioning from where he was over you to lay down next to you again.

You were still trying to catch your breath, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off you and he studied your profile, the gentle slope of your nose, the way your eyelashes whisked upwards away from your cheeks. “I wish I had done that a long time ago,” he said quietly.

You turned to look at him with a small, shy smile. “Me too,” you laughed, feeling a wave of heat in your chest. Dean could see you flush and he leaned in again to give you one last soft kiss—this one sweet and slow.

Neither of you wanted to say anything more. You just wanted to drink each other in. It was perfect—it was vulnerable and intimate and honest. After a little while, Dean grabbed the book again and with a tilt of his head and an outstretched arm as an invitation, you cuddled close and watched as he paged through the old volume.

Some time later, you were both asleep--Dean’s arm under and wrapped around you and your head on his shoulder and a hand gentle on his chest.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You startled awake the next morning to a banging sound followed by a familiar voice.

“DEAN!”

It was, unmistakably, Sam.

You and Dean both sat up stock straight. “Sam?”

“DEAN! Can you hear me?!”

You looked up toward the source the sound. “It’s coming through that vent,” you said, climbing to your feet. “SAM! WE’RE DOWN HERE!”

“Y/N? IS DEAN WITH YOU? WHAT’S GOING ON?”

“I’M HERE, SAM! WE’RE STUCK IN BOBBY’S FUCKING PANIC ROOM!”

“WHAT?”

“BOBBY’S. FUCKING. PANIC ROOM!”

This was followed by more loud banging sounds and some sort of metallic clanking and squealing.

“Can you hear me better?” Sam’s voice was clearer.

“Yes! Sam, thank God,” you yelled back. “We were worried you wouldn’t be here for another day or more!”

“I tried calling both of you like ten times with no answer! I got worried.”

“Awesome. Now, figure out how to get us out of here,” Dean chimed in.

“Uhh…How?”

“We tripped the system somehow. There’s some kind of computer panel in here. Maybe there’s another one outside or in the house somewhere. Maybe you can hack it somehow and override the lockdown?” you offered.

“Alright… I’ll see what I can do. Just sit tight.”

Dean caught your eyes and laughed wryly. “Not like we have any other choice, right?” he said. That was the first time since you had woken up to the chaos from Sam that the two of you had really looked at each other. You immediately felt your cheeks flush. Dean’s lips curved in a gentle smile as he took in your bashfulness. “How’s your head?”

You nodded. “Fine. How’s yours?”

“Just fine,” he said, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. He nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So… that really happened, right?”

“What?”

He cleared his throat at averted his eyes back up toward the vent Sam had been talking to you through. “I mean—last night—we totally made out. I didn’t… dream that?”

You bit your bottom lip and smiled nervously. “We… definitely made out…”

Dean gave you one of his classic boyish grins. “Awesome.”

Sam was surprisingly fast at cracking the system, with a little help from Charlie over the phone. He had you and Dean out within an hour. You grinned at him as he finally pulled the door open from the outside.

“Hey,” he said. “You two interested in rejoining the world?”

You laughed and gave him a quick hug. “Our hero,” you said.

Dean patted Sam’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “Way to go, Sammy.”

Sam stepped forward to peer inside the panic room. “Geez. Well, it looks like you had everything you needed. Bobby was always prepared for anything. How long were you stuck in there?”

You checked the time on your phone. “About 18 hours.”

Sam laughed. “Yikes. What the hell did you do to pass the time?” He turned toward you and Dean again, shutting the door behind him. You were willing your cheeks not to turn red. Based on Sam’s curious expression and Dean’s unwillingness to meet his eyes, you were pretty sure Sam knew something was up. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s with you two?”

“What? Nothing,” Dean said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dean turned away to head back up the root cellar stairs into the streaming sunlight and Sam gave you an inquisitive look. You awkwardly cleared your throat and avoided his questioning eyes. “Ready?”

“…Sure,” he agreed. He followed behind you, but he could sense that something had changed between you and Dean.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Current day

You sat sideways in what once was Crowley’s throne, legs draped over one arm of the seat. The heavy door to the room was shut to drown out the sounds of Hell. There was a laptop in your lap and you opened a web browser. “Huh. Hell has surprisingly good Wifi,” you wondered aloud to yourself. “Now, to find who is next… You searched through recent court case acquittals until the squeaking of metal hinges interrupted your attention. You sighed heavily but didn’t look at the demon who had just entered. “What?” Your tone was bored, cold.

“We--we think we’ve found it,” the demon stuttered out.

You sat up straight, swinging your feet to the floor. “Well?” you prodded.

“We can take you there.”

You rose from the throne completely and locked your eyes on the demon. “And he’s there?”

Something which looked an awful lot like terror was on the demon’s face, but he nodded.

”Take me there,” you demanded. “It’s time I meet Lucifer for myself.”

[junkyardlynx]

ch. 1

“Don’t you remember? You were the one that came up with the idea years ago -- if things ever got too fucking weird, we’d bail into the forest for a week or two. Reset our heads, unplug from the Matrix or whatever. C’mon, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna bail on US instead. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

---

Pale sunlight filtered down through the misty branches, bathing the small clearing in an almost ethereal light. Morning dew glistened. Birds sung sweetly. The leaves and the eaves swayed and twisted to unheard music. This ritual carried on for thousands of years uninterrupted, a fresh and timeless dawn. The mountain air breathed sweet, as if inhaling it could remove all of one’s fears and anxieties, carried out on the carbon dioxide of hot, hot breath. The light of the morning disappeared further north as the canopy thickened considerably, devouring any remnant of the outside world. It was a perfect sort of darkness; welcoming and tender to the uninformed. In that isolated little haven, the sun and moon were equal, both providing just enough light to get lost by. Common sense would say to avoid it, but the allure of the unknown is often too inviting. 

Silas found himself at a crossroads, as it wasn’t only the allure of the unknown that beckoned him north -- it was the actual, real, written invitation he’d received in the mail some four days ago after a particularly long phone call. The postcard contained only two lines: a set of coordinates and the words “bring party favors. C.” Party favors. Right. Coy fucker. Just write alcohol, he thought.

This was the right choice. His boss would figure things out somehow. Prick could barely differentiate his left foot from his right, but that was someone else’s problem. For a bit, anyway. Silas was always the quiet problem solver, the one who fixed all the gunked-up shit in the background so the company could trundle onwards with undeserved confidence like there was never an issue at all. Thankless work, but it paid well and let him use his brain while staying out of social situations. 

Using that industrious little noggin of his, he managed to discern where to go once he reached the coordinates by making sense of the clues left by Charles. Thankfully, Big C had the good sense not to carve anything into trees like the destructive little knob he usually was. Instead, Charles left little crumpled up notes inside of brown paper bags. Things like childhood anecdotes, vague reminders of promises, shopping lists, all capped off with the next direction Silas should head in. While outwardly professing his frustration, Silas did have to admit the little game they were engaged in was fun. Part of him wondered if Charles did this for the other five people coming out to the Hundred-Mile Wilderness. Probably. 

Maybe it was all part of that unwinding, that unplugging, that escape they all craved in this crazy, pandemic-riddled year. The kind of escape that only truly fortunate people could afford anymore - the ability to leave your life behind for a bit without major financial or social repercussion. Acutely aware of his luck and feeling a bit of shame for needing an escape from such a cushy life, Silas picked up the pace, heading north, into the deeper darkness as if to assuage his guilt. 

The thing they don’t tell you about forests is just how fucking dense they are, Silas complained internally, wiping the sweat from his brow a his monstrous backpack’s straps dug into his shoulders. Though he was familiar with the forests and woods of Maine, the Hundred-Mile Wilderness was an altogether different beast. Perhaps some sort of Questing one. The waist-high brush and bushes popped up without sense or logic, gnarled roots erupting through the understory of the forest as if to trip up any unsuspecting hiker on purpose. Seeing any appreciable distance ahead was out of the question, so a careful trek through the trees usually meant one would keep their head pointed firmly at the forest floor.

That made the unfamiliar noises of the wilderness all the more alien. 

Squeaks, cracks, crunching, twittering, skittering, and most concerning - stillness. While everything might unnerve the invasive species known as human beings by virtue of sheer unfamiliarity, it also indicated a relatively peaceful time. True stillness was something to be rightfully feared. 

That quiet, that stillness was the forest holding its breath. Like a hero in a horror movie, stifling their noisy lungs so the craven killer, the creature wouldn’t catch them. The wilderness operated on the same logic, really. Something big and dangerous was skulking around, and it was best to make yourself scarce before you became a hungry bear’s lunch. 

It was nothing Silas hadn’t experienced before when hiking with his father, or camping with Charles and Samir. They’d usually just pack up any particularly smelly rations and give that patch of the wild a large berth, but the thing is? Those true moments of stillness were particularly rare. Maybe one in ten trips. 

A stillness had been following him for the last two days, coming on strong and sudden for a few minutes at a time. Birds would shiver out of a song, insects would find an excuse to stop biting for five seconds, treetop rodents froze in terror, and even the waving of the high, high branches seemed to stop. In those moments, it felt like something of singular intelligence and intent was drilling its eyes into him. 

For lack of a better word, Silas felt hunted. 

He did his best to shake that feeling, knowing it invited nothing but paranoia. Nothing bad had happened, anyway.  Best not to let it ruin his oddly good mood.

However, as he stumbled and  and navigated around a large, flowering bush of honeysuckle, all sound in the forest was simply...swallowed up. Even the telling clod of his own hiking boots striking the earth produced a startling amount of nothing. Confusion turned to fear, turned to agitation, turned to...laughter. That kind of manic, annoyed laughter that twined itself to the urge to cry. 

“Charlie! Charles! Big C! I fuuuuuuuuucking get it! You can stop bro! It’s supremely hilarious that you’ve been pranking me, but just come out here and give me a hug or something.”

A beat.

The empty forest produced nothing. No answer, no friend, no friendship. No sound. An ever-dying amount of daylight. 

A beat turned to two, turned to ten. Nothing. Nothing but an immense feeling of being observed, scrutinized, investigated, seen down to his very core as if there was nothing he could hide no sin no saintliness nothing secret from the watchful eyes of the world as it bore down on him with distinctly inhuman intelligence and intention deeper and deeper into-

Then, as if someone had turned the forest back on, birdsong filled the trees once more. Particularly fat and greedy mosquitoes honed in on Silas’ hot skin and with comedic precision, a squirrel tumbled harmlessly from one branch and down to another. Giving itself a momentary grooming to remove the debris it had acquired on its trip, it scampered off like it had a hot date it couldn’t be late for. 

“Hooooooooh boy. Maybe I’m going crazy not being able to say dumb shit on Twitter or something,” Silas breathed in relief. Shaking his head, he continued forward for twenty, maybe thirty minutes cresting over the small hill he had been steadily surmounting. As he did, an all-too-familiar navy blue tent came into view. Then a garishly purple one, a muted sort of beige, and an awful neon affair. If one had to take a local’s view on it, it’d be something along the lines of “goddamn city-slickers who mock camo even when used in an appropriate setting.”

Maybe. But they were his city-slickers. 

Abandoning common sense, Silas broke into a light jog. Slinging his massive backpack off his shoulder and holding it forward to act as a sort of counterbalance, Silas hurtled towards the camp. His speed proved too much to handle, though and eventually he outran himself, tripping over his own legs to  end his descent in a most majestic tumble-and-dive maneuver. Laying on his back, Silas’ mud-streaked mop of blonde hair partially covered his face, and it was all he could do to suppress a giggle as everyone in the camp ran to see just what the hell had happened. Six faces crowded around him, and they all seemed deeply concerned before Silas’ laughter proved infectious, and all seven began to laugh together. Just like old times. 

“Haha, ah, hey guys.”

“Hey, Sly-ass. Catching some Z’s already?”

“S-somethin’ like that, Captain Crunch.” 

Charles smiled down at him, a cast-iron pan in his left hand and a serving fork in the right. Without missing a beat, Charles speared a freshly-roasted sausage link and held it above Silas’ mouth. Leaning up just enough to snatch a bite, Silas rest his head on the damp forest floor, seemingly at peace as he chewed the fatty meat.

Yeah, this is what he needed. This kind of trip was the one that changed your life. 

[avengerscompound]

What Makes Him Happy

What Makes Him Happy: An Iron Man Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Rating:  M

Warning:  Drug use (pot), smut (MF, playful sex, sex on drugs, oral sex, vaginal sex)

Word Count:  2613

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Summary:  Tony comes home late and uncommunicative.  The next day he confesses that he isn’t happy where he is in his life.  While you don’t have the answers for him, there is one thing that makes him happy.

What Makes Him Happy

Tony had come home late.  It wasn’t unusual.  Between Avenging, public events, and his addiction to his lab, you were often asleep before he had even arrived home at the end of his day.

The difference was last night he had appeared a little beat up and bruised and generally exhausted.  Normally he had his injuries taken care of before he got home.  Last night he was still in his torn clothes with open wounds.  When you’d tried to help patch him up he’d brushed you off, telling you it was nothing.

Then he’d crawled into bed naked and just crashed, which was the weirdest part of all.

It was late when you woke.  The sun was already up and FRIDAY had drawn the curtains so that the light streamed in, directly on your face.  You rolled over, covering your eyes with your arm.  “FRIDAY, you jerk.”  You grumbled.

There was soft laughter beside you and Tony rolled over and draped his arm over you.  “Don’t call her a jerk,” he teased.  “She’s really petty.”

You opened your eyes and blinked at him.  “Hey, Tony.  You okay?”

He wrinkled his nose.  “Yeah.  Sorry if I worried you.  Just exhausted.”  He said.  “I think I’m getting too old for the whole Iron Man thing.  It takes it out of me too much.  I just don’t know what I’d do with myself if I stop.”

“What do you want to do?”  You asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a grimace.  “I don’t know.  I always had this thing in my head that I’d have kids by now and we’d have a farm.  We don’t have any kids and I don’t know anything about farming.”

“Since when has not knowing something held you back?”  You asked, trailing your fingers down his side.

“Yeah.  I could learn.  I guess learning is one thing you can do with my retirement.

You placed a gentle kiss on the dip of his clavicle and began to kiss along his collarbone.  “You gotta do what makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,”  Tony teased, poking your stomach,  “Do I get to do you?”

You smirked at him.  “What did I just say?”

Tony wrapped his arms around your waist and rolled, pulling you so you were lying directly on top of him.  You propped yourself up using your elbows on his chest and looked down at him, as he kneaded your ass.  “You know what, honey?”  He said looking up into your eyes.  “I think maybe you should ride me.”

“Oh, really?  Telling me what to do are you?”

He smirked and gave your ass a tap.  “Oh, also.  I think we should smoke a joint.”

“During?”

He nodded and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“So what you’re saying is, you want to get high while I do all the work?”  You said, running your finger down his chest.  “That me riding your dick while you smoke weed will make you happy?”

Tony grinned up at you and patted your thighs.  “Yes.  Yes, I do want to do that thing you just said.”

You reached over to the bedside table and pulled out your small selection of paraphernalia and spread them out over Tony’s chest.  As you carefully lay out the papers and spread the shredded weed over them he looked up at you and grazed his fingers up and down your thighs.  You rolled it and carefully lifted the not quite joint to your mouth, and as you ran your tongue along the edge of the paper you started to roll your hips against Tony.

You held out your handy work to show him and he chuckled and gripped your ass.  “Very nice.”

You placed the joint between his lips and picked up the lighter, sparking it to life and holding it out.  He took a large draw, making sure it was properly lit and you tossed the lighter onto the bedside table with the rest of the paraphernalia.

You leaned forward hovering over Tony and watching as he held the smoke in his lungs and that soft, far off look reached his eyes.  As you watched the high settle in, you reached behind you and stroked the length of his cock, letting it harden under your hand.  Tony smiled and blew the smoke up towards you, letting you inhale what he had released.  You breathed in deeply and held it, letting the soft buzz from his second-hand smoke settle in, making you feel pleasantly light.

You released the smoke from your lungs and leaned down and kissed him.  You took your time, slowing moving your lips with his.  He sucked your bottom lip and when you went to pull back he dragged his teeth over it.

Tony hummed and took another draw as you moved down his body so that his cock was pressed against your pussy.  You slid up and down his length, the head of his cock appearing and disappearing between your folds with each roll of your hips.  Tony ran the hand that held the joint up and down your arm, letting the fragrant smoke swirl around you before he offered it to you.  You took the end between your lips, pulling the smoke into your lungs before leaning down and sucking on his throat as you continued to hold it.  A soft light feeling took you over, making you feel fuzzy and your head swim.  When you released the smoke it formed a small cloud around you both before dissipating.

Tony’s Adam’s apple bobbed against your mouth as you sucked and bit at his skin.  When you reached down and began to tease your thumb over the head of his cock, the groan that reverberated from deep within him vibrated against your lips.

“Are you trying to give me a hickey?”  Tony asked, gripping the back of your neck.

You started giggling but didn’t actually answer him.  He slapped your ass, cupping his hand so the sound of the crack was comically loud and made you both break down into giggles.

“Come here, you.”  He said, taking your chin.  He guided you back up to his mouth and kissed you ferociously, claiming your mouth as his.  He pulled away and you looked down at him feeling lightheaded and a little unfulfilled.  “Now, go suck my dick.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.  “Excuse me?  How dare you, sir?  I am a lady!  Ask nicely!”

“No.  Just do it.”  He said picking up the joint and taking another draw.

“I shan’t.”

“Yes, you will.  Go on.”  He said, still holding the smoke in, so his voice was strained.  He offered you the joint and you shook your head and dived down capturing his lips.  He breathed the smoke into the kiss.  Your whole body became light and tingly.  You were both extremely turned on but also not quite present.  Like your mind and body were working slightly out of synch with each other.

He pushed you away from him, playfully.  “Go on.”

You started laughing and crawling down his body.  “Okay, but I’m gonna use my teeth.”

“No!” Tony giggled as you pulled his boxers down and positioned yourself over his cock and snapped your teeth together, so they made a loud clacking noise.  “Don’t you dare!”

You ran your tongue up his shaft and grazed your teeth along the sides of it.

“Honey!  No!”  He laughed, squirming under you.  “Do it properly!”

“You’re so high right now.”  You giggled, taking his cock in your hands and pumping his shaft.

He groaned and relaxed back.  “I know I am. Fuck… I wanted to be.  Please, use your mouth, you’re so good at it.”

“There’s the magic word.”  You teased and took him into your mouth.  You rolled your tongue down his length as you looked up at him.  His muscles visibly relaxed with each bob of your head up and down his shaft.  He patted your head and then just rested his hand there, closing his eyes and enjoying the pleasure swirling through him.  You made a conscious effort to go slow for him and let him feel everything.  Allowing him to be brought to climax over time.

You languidly sucked his cock, taking him deep down your throat so your lips pressed flush against his groin.  You’d hold it as long as you could and then pull right back, sucking hard as you did.  He started to moan and his breathing picked up a little as he rubbed the back of your neck.

“Hon… honey…”  He gasped.  “Babe… come around.  I want to do you.”

You sat up and looked at him.  The words he said didn’t quite make sense to you and looking at the soft look of pleasure on his face made you burst out laughing.  “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

He giggled and patted his chest.  “69, baby.”  He snuffed out the joint and moved everything away from both of us.  You stood up on the bed and stepped over his head.  When you looked down he stared back up at you and licked his lips.

“That is the best fucking view I’ve ever had,” he growled.  His hands traveled up between your legs, letting his fingers tease over your pussy.  When he slid them back down he pushed the back of your knees, forcing you to bend them.  You carefully dropped down, positioning your cunt over his mouth.  He roughly grabbed your ass cheeks, pulled them apart and plunged his face into your wetness.  He worked his mouth like he was attempting to take the term ‘eating out’ literally.  His teeth raked down your folds and his tongue lapped over them before pushing inside you.

You fell forward with a loud moan, pressing your face into his abs, muffling a cry.  It felt like there was a ball of hot, unspent energy forming in your gut as your cunt tingled and your skin prickled.  “Oh, fuck,”  You groaned.

You lay panting against his stomach, clawing your fingers down his thighs and along his hips.  He spanked your ass, making you jump forward a little.  He pulled you back in place and clicked his fingers.  You turned back to look at him and without removing his mouth from your cunt he pointed at his crotch.

You giggled and started to kiss along his stomach.  You pushed your nose into his belly button and he squirmed and spanked you again making you giggle harder.  You kissed down to his cock and swirled your tongue over its head.  The salty tang of precome coated your taste buds and his cock twitched and jumped a little, making Tony hum into your cunt.  The soft vibration of his lips on your clit made you shiver just a little.  Taking his length back into his mouth you sucked up and down his shaft and palmed his perineum.  He made a deep, guttural growl and his cock throbbed in your mouth. 

He picked up the pace and ferocity of his actions.  Plunging two fingers into your cunt, he began to fuck you with them.  At the angle he was working, they kept pressing directly on your g-spot.  You squirmed above him whimpering into his cock as an orgasm began to build.

You seemed to start competing with each other.  Your attention became focused directly on the things you each knew would get the other off as quickly as possible.  You were moaning and panting as your orgasm built and threatened to break.  It took all your effort to keep your attention on what you were doing.  Sweat beaded on your bod but you never pulled away from him.  You cupped his balls and tugged them as you deepthroated him.  You groaned around his cock and he pushed you off him.

“Fuck, honey.” He gasped, rolling over and pushing you onto your back so your head hung over the end of the bed.

“I am going to make you come so hard.”  He growled, as he hooked his elbow around your leg and thrust hard into you, pushing you further off the bed.

You gasped as he entered you and clenched around his cock.  As you adjusted to him you started to giggle.  “Okay.  Sounds fun.”

He started pounding into you.  Each thrust pushed you just that little bit further off the bed.  You had to make a choice, hang off the end of the bed and brace your hands on the floor, or hold yourself up by clinging to Tony.  You chose the latter, wrapping one arm around his neck and digging your fingers into his shoulder.  With your free hand, you began to rub your clit in tight circles to bring on your orgasm.

Tony started kissing you again, hungrily and passionately.  It brought you that much closer to your climax.

“Fuck.  Oh, fuck, Tony.  Tell me how much you love fucking me.”  You groaned.

“I do love it.  I love having my cock deep inside you, emptying in you.  Fuck you feel amazing.”  He growled.  His words affected both of you.  His thrusts picked up speed and you clenched, bearing down on him, so close it hurt.

You pinched your clit and it sent you over.  You let go of him, falling back over the edge of the bed, your back arched in a perfect curve, your muscles clenched tight as they stretched and your head touched the ground.  You cried out as you came, cursing his name.

Tony dug his fingers into your hips and slammed into you. “Fuck, yes.  Take it.”  He groaned and came.  You could feel every pulse and twitch of his cock as it emptied in you.

He fell onto all fours and slipped out of you letting you slither down onto the floor.  He looked over the edge of the bed and you both broke down into giggles.

“Hey, down there,”  He chirped.

“Hey!”  You chirped back.

You got up and went to the dresser grabbing an oversized shirt and slipping it on.  When you turned, Tony was directly behind you and he pulled you into his arms.  “I love you.”  He hummed.

“Gross, don’t say it after sex.”  You giggled and pecked his lips.  “Gonna go eat.  Got the munchies.”

You went upstairs and started digging around in the fridge.  Tony came up behind you and pressed himself against your butt, pushing the fabric of the shirt up and gently stroking your skin.

“You don’t want any of that.”  He said.

You stood and turned to face him and he stepped away from you going to the pantry and returning with a pack of blueberry pancake mix and slamming it on the counter.

“Yes!  Tony, you’re the best!”  You squealed going to get a bowl.

He grabbed you and pulled you against him, one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other holding your hand against his heart.

He started swaying to unheard music.  “Honey, has it been long enough after sex to tell you I love you yet?”

You made a pointed glance over at the clock on the microwave and gave a short nod making Tony laugh.

“I guess it’s been long enough.”

He kissed you slowly and languidly.  His tongue coaxing your lips apart and dipping into your mouth.  He pulled back slowly and rested his forehead against yours.  “I love you.”

You were light-headed and a little dazed.  “I love you too.”  You hummed.  “Are you happy?”

“Mm… yeah.  Really happy.”  You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tightly around him.  He felt warm.  Like home.  You danced.

[autisticfangpyreclub]

Gold stained hands, red stained teeth - chapter 1

I finally managed to start writing the vampire au i posted literally a year ago, quarantine does that to ya. Enjoy!

(@kyra-plays sorry it took so long for me to start writing this fic!)

-

“We’re here!”

Kai grunted as he was shaken awake by the car jostling to a halt. He sluggishly sat up in his seat and looked out the window. They were parked in front of a huge iron gate, overgrown with vines and moss. “This is the place?” he slurred, shaking his head to try and wake himself up.

“Yup,” Nya replied. She tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto his lap. “Check it out, I’m gonna go get our tickets.”

She hopped out of the car, and ran over to the ticket booth. Kai yawned, and clicked the light on in the car. The piece of paper had every spot on their haunted building tour written on it, along with a small blurb about each location. He skimmed through the names until he found where they were.

“Castle Garmadon…”

It had been built in the 14th century, allegedly by only two people. A woman and her husband, rumoured by the local townsfolk to both be vampires.

He could believe it when he saw what the castle looked like. It was ginormous, towering over the iron gates surrounding it. The castle sat atop a cliff that overlooked the town below, and it gave the entire countryside a dark and gothic vibe. It looked like something straight out of dracula.

“There you are!”

Kai jumped at the sudden hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he saw it was only Jay. “Hey, when’d you get here?” Kai asked.

“Just now,” Jay said, gesturing at the blue van that was parked beside Nya’s car. “Zane’s trying to drag Cole out right now, he’s having a bit of a freak out.”

They both turned their heads to see Zane tugging Cole by the arm, trying to pull him off the car door. Cole lost his grip just as Zane gave a hard yank. Kai winced as they both fell backwards onto the concrete ground, that was still wet from the recent shower of rain. “What’s going on with them?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jay crossed his arms and leaned back against the iron gate. “I hear Cole’s got like, a really bad fear of vampires.”

Kai couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Seriously? Why?”

Jay shrugged. “No clue, think he just watched too many horror movies as a little kid,” he raised an eyebrow and scanned the parking lot, “hey, where’s Nya?”

“Hey Jay!” Nya grinned as she ran over to them. “I got our tickets,” she handed a ticket to Jay, and then one to Kai, “apparently we’re the only visitors they’ve had in months, so we’ve got the whole place to ourselves to explore!”

“Awesome!” Jay pumped his fist in the air. “Free reign to touch anything we feel like!”

“I told you in the van Jay, we must respect this castle,” Zane chided, approaching them with a mopey looking Cole in tow. “Look with your eyes, not your hands.”

“Ugh, fine. You brought the go pro right?”

Zane sighed, then reached into his shoulder bag. He pulled out an awkwardly large camera, and strapped it over his forehead. “I don’t know why you insisted on this head mount.”

“Panoramic shots Zane, panoramic shots!” Jay shot back, “now lean down so I can adjust it.”

Kai chuckled to himself watching Jay attempt to jump to Zane’s level. His focus drifted towards Cole, who’s eyes were darting back and forth between the gate and the castle, while his hands clenched the sleeves of his jacket. He was rocking back and forth on the spot and muttering something ineligible to himself.

“You good Cole?” Kai asked him, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder.

Cole flinched and snapped out of his nervous rambling. “What? Oh, I’m fine,” he waved his hand nonchalantly, “just… the castle is so big, it was making me a little, uh… unsettled, yeah, that’s all it is…”

Kai didn’t really believe that, but he didn’t want to hassle him. He just gave Cole a pat on the shoulder and left it at that. The five of them showed their tickets to the guard at the gate, and walked into the courtyard.

-

Those piercing red eyes had to be the creepiest thing about the paintings Cole was surrounded by. It was bad enough that the old castle looked like it was going to collapse any moment, or that it reeked of death and mold. Of course, of course it also had to be infested by vampires. Vampires who loved having their portraits painted, apparently.

“I think these ropes kinda ruin it for me,” Kai said while prodding at one of the velvet ropes that formed a barrier around the paintings. “The illusion of walking through a historical castle thing I mean.”

Cole turned around to glare at him. “Are you seriously not creeped out by all… this?”

Kai gave him a quizzical look. “I can’t really see anything creepy about it.” He walked over and slung his arm over Cole's shoulder. “It’s just an old building dude, nothing to be afraid of except like… maybe asbestos.”

“There is no asbestos in this castle Kai, the maintenance staff thoroughly check and upkeep the entire building twice a year,” Zane said. He was taking pictures of everything using the go pro Jay had thoroughly adjusted several times now. Jay himself was admiring the two giant swords affixed to the wall, along with Nya who was taking pictures with her phone.

Cole pushed Kai off him. “I’m not scared, I’m just saying it’s creepy. I mean, why do all these paintings have red eyes?”

“Because their vampires, duh!” Jay yelled over to them. Kai shot him a glare, and he looked away sheepishly. “I mean, that’s the most popular theory…”

Jay yelped as Nya shoved him in the shoulder. “There’s no such thing as vampires, stop trying to scare him Jay,” she said.

Jay winced and shuffled away from her while rubbing his shoulder. “I wasn’t! Just stating the facts!”

“I agree with Nya, there is simply no scientific evidence at all that backs up the existence of vampires, or any supernatural phenomena at all for that matter,” Zane said flatly. “No matter what conspiracy theorists say to try to defend their opinion, nothing can rationalize it,” he looked pointedly at Jay while speaking, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, we get it science man,” Jay said, “in other words, Cole needs to stop being a baby.”

Cole sputtered. “Shut up! Can we just get this whole haunted building tour over with?” Cole sighed while shaking his head. “I can’t believe you guys forced me into this…”

“Excuse me? We all agreed to do this together!” Jay scoffed at him. He absentmindedly scratched at the peeling wallpaper, then frantically tried to hide a chunk he pulled off in his pocket before Zane could yell at him.

“That was before I found out one of the spots on the list was a vampire infested hellhole!” Cole spat at him.

Kai gave Cole a gentle pat on the back. “It’ll be alright man, if you get scared I’ll just let you hold my hand okay?”

Cole scowled. “I don’t need to…”

A loud creaking sound suddenly echoed through the building. Cole screamed and grasped onto Kai’s hoodie for dear life.

“Uhh…” Kai glanced over at Cole, who was cowering and hiding his face in Kai’s shoulder. “You good man?”

In a realization that nothing was coming to kill him, Cole pulled away from Kai like he’d been burned. Jay was laughing like a maniac in the background, and he even heard Zane chuckle softly. Nya just shook her head and walked past them.

“C'mon guys, we’ve only got about another hour and there’s still way more castle to see,” she said, pulling Jay by the arm who was still laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

Cole felt his face heating up. He pulled his shirt over his face so that no one could see how red he was. Or how much he was still sweating. “Uh… Kai, I think I might just take you up on that offer…”

-

“Y’know, I hear the electric lights in this place have always been here, because the people who lived here were so old they had knowledge from the golden age about electricity that was lost to time,” Jay remarked, as they passed by a marble bust lit up by a light on the ceiling.

“That’s impossible, electric lighting was unheard of during the 15th century, and people barely lived past their thirties, much less thousands of years,” Zane replied.

“Unless they were vampires…” Jay hummed.

Cole shuddered, and squeezed Kai’s hand. As embarrassing as it was to be holding Kai’s hand like he was a little kid going through a haunted house, it was… comforting. Jay was being the absolute opposite of comforting, he was being a pain in the ass.

“Hey Cole, you cold?” Jay asked with a taunting grin. “You're shivering so much, it’s like you just saw a ghost!” He poked Cole on the cheek, and snickered when he let out a frightened squeak.

Cole grit his teeth, and grasped Kai’s hand tighter. Kai took notice of this, and pulled him in closer. “Shut it Jay, give it up already,” he snapped.

Jay stuck his tongue out and ran ahead of them. The castle was like a maze of hallways, staircases, and small rooms filled with nothing but aged looking statues and paintings. They hadn’t found anything like a kitchen or a bedroom yet, but they had walked through a faintly coppery smelling wine cellar.

“This place is less a house, and more an art museum,” Nya mused, gazing up at the idyllic painting of the night sky above her. “Oh hey, there’s a hole in the wall...”

She pulled out a book that was tucked inside the small crevice in the wall, and flipped it open to a random page. “How to grow the finest lavender… the most efficient way to cultivate your vegetables… slugs, snails, and other wretched fiends found in the garden,” she read aloud, being reminded of the decently kept flower patch they passed in the courtyard. “They must’ve really loved gardening…”

The hallway they were in now was long and narrow, with red carpeted floors and black stone walls covered in scratch marks. The carpet was stained and tattered, and the floorboards sounded like they were screaming when they were stepped on. The hole Nya had discovered wasn’t alone, many more littered the wall and even the floor, Jay having discovered one when he tripped and fell on his face.

“Odd…” Zane hummed, “this hallway seems much less cared for than the rest of the castle…”

“No kidding, this floor is gross…” Nya groaned, stepping over a particularly large dark stain. “And where are the windows? I actually haven’t seen a single one anywhere.”

Jay stopped in front of a painting of a raging ocean, and put a finger to his lips as if in thought. “Maybe… the ones who lived here didn’t want any sunlight getting in,” he said.

“Jay!” Nya yelled at him.

Cole shuddered, and hid his face in his hands. “Oh god, it all makes sense… red eyes, no windows, creepy castle… look, there’s even a glass full of blood in that painting!” he said and pointed towards the painting in question.

Most of the paintings of people in the castle were of the same person, and this one was no exception. He was young looking, and had blonde curls that hung over his eyes and just barely touched his shoulders. He had dark brown skin, and freckles that covered his entire face. He wore a black high collared cape that was fastened by a golden flower-shaped brooch. A green ribbon was tied around his neck. The most striking thing about the boy was his bright red eyes, but despite the unnerving colour they had a gentle look to them. He also did indeed have a glass filled with… something red in his grasp.

“It’s likely wine,” Zane said.

“Or blood!” Cole yelled back at him.

“Or… maybe it’s tomato juice?”

Zane and Cole both gave Kai a blank look. “Seriously? Tomato juice? This isn’t bunnicula we’re talking about Kai,” Cole said, “he’s a REAL vampire, not some kids cartoon.”

“Kai, tomato juice had not yet been invented at the time this painting was done, and Cole, I’m telling you vampires are most certainly not real, please calm yourself,” Zane said, irritation seeping into his tone.

“But why the red eyes then huh? Explain that!” Cole slapped a hand onto the painting, eliciting a gasp from Zane.

“Cole!” he yelled, “that painting is centuries old, it’s a priceless piece of history-“

“In my personal opinion,” Jay cut in, stepping in between them and leaning on the rope, “I think the whole legend is legit.”

Zane glared at him. “Jay, don’t start this again-“

“Seriously, this family lives in this huge mysterious spooky castle, no one ever sees them go out during the day, they barely interact with anyone, and then some guy with a silver sword-“

“Wait, why is the fact that it’s silver important?” Kai asked.

“Because vampires are weak to silver Kai, keep up!”

“I thought that was werewolves?”

“Well uh… uh… they're both weak to it alright?!” Jay stuttered, “anyways… he has a silver sword, and he kills the whole family, AND he cuts their heads off and sticks a wooden stake in all their hearts… why?”

“Because he was an asshole?” Nya helpfully supplied.

“Because they were vampires!” Cole yelled, “and they got what was coming to them, thank god…”

“Exactly,” Jay said.

Zane rubbed his temples, and let out a pained sigh. “You two make my brain hurt sometimes.”

“Hey, if you guys are done can we please just keep going?” Kai groaned. They ignored him, and only started arguing louder. He clapped his hands over his ears to block them out, and turned to Nya and nudged her. “Hey, you wanna just go on ahead?” he asked.

Her face scrunched up as she mulled it over. “I’m tempted but…” she glanced over at Zane who was physically restraining Jay from touching the painting, and shook her head. “Someone needs to keep them in check.”

“Fair enough… you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

Kai quietly snuck away from the scene of Jay loudly pointing out all the obvious vampire clues in the painting while in the clutches of Zane’s arms, and walked deeper into the mysterious darkness of the castle.

-

The many twisting and turning narrow hallways eventually led Kai to a small, dusty room. It was completely empty. “Aw man, dead end…”

He walked into the room anyways, his eyes drawn to the swirling flower patterns on the green walls, a contrast to the pure black walls of the hallway he came in from. The ceiling was also unusually low, not low enough that he had to duck, but low enough that he could feel his hair brush against it.

“Kai!”

Kai turned around to see Cole running towards him, Jay, Zane and Nya tailing behind him. He came to a screeching halt in front of the door, gasping for breath. “Kai, why the hell did you wander off?!”

“Because you were all held up arguing, I got bored. Wait, were you worried I got like, murdered or something?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cole’s cheeks flushed. “No, you just get lost really easily, so I thought-“

“He was totally scared you got murdered, that’s why he was running,” Jay said, “hey, what’s going on in here?”

Jay pushed past a fuming Cole, and walked over to the back wall. “Huh, this is weird… ooh! I bet there’s a switch in here for a secret passage!”

He started pressing his hands into random spots on the wall, musing aloud to himself as he did it. “Not here… not there… guys, come in here and help me look for it!”

“Jay, that sounds dum- ow!” Cole banged his head against the low ceiling. He dropped to the floor, and tried to rub the swelling pain away. “Why is this entire castle built so bad?!” he groaned.

“Ah, the tough life of a mountain sized man,” Kai laughed.

Cole brushed the dust off his pants as he stood back up. “Well, better than being as short as Jay I guess.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

“Let’s just not spend too much time here alright? I’m starting to feel claustrophobic…” Cole said, trying to avoid touching the rotting wood on the doorframe as he shuffled out of the room.

Zane ducked his head as he entered. He gazed around curiously before joining Jay by the back wall. “I doubt there’s a secret passage, but there is something fascinating about this wall.”

“What is it?” Nya asked as she walked in, closing the door behind her. She laid a hand against the wall, but pulled away at the icy cold feeling against her palm. “Yeesh, must have been fun to live here during the winter. Not.”

“Yes, I noticed the temperature as well, but that’s not what I mean,” Zane pointed to a tiny spot on the wall. “Look at this.”

She leaned in to see what he was looking at, but all she could see were squiggly golden lines. “Uh… what exactly I am supposed to be looking at?”

“What’re we looking at?” Kai said as he leaned in over Nya’s shoulder.

“We’re looking at a line of writing in an ancient language, native to Ninjago, spoken by only a handful of people in modern times,” Zane replied, zooming the go pro in to get a better shot. “And lucky for us, I know this language… don’t take that ancient languages class Zane, they said, you’ll never have any use for it, they said-“

“So uh, what does it say?” Jay asked, having given up on searching for a secret passageway.

“Huh? Oh, right…” Zane wiped the dust away from the lettering, and cleared his throat. “It says, ‘reveal my sanctuary’, but then again, I could be-“

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, a bright green light began emitting from the wall. All four of them drew back in alarm, Kai tripping over himself and landing on the floor.

“Wha- Zane?! What’d you do?!” Jay yelled, backing up until he bumped against the doorframe.

Zane didn’t answer, his mouth agape as he stumbled back from the light. The door creaked open, and Cole popped his head in. “Hey, what’re you guys yelling about- WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The light suddenly vanished, and in its place was a golden door. The room was silent as they all stared at it. Jay coughed.

“So… who’s gonna go open it?” he asked, still keeping himself as far away from the door as possible.

“None of us!” Cole shouted. “Who knows what’s behind there?” He shakily crept back into the room, and hid behind Zane. “I mean, what if there’s dead bodies that have been rotting in there forever… or worse?”

Zane nodded, and gave Cole a gentle pat on the head. “I agree with Cole, I think it’d be best to ask a facility member about this.”

“And miss the chance to go somewhere we’re not supposed to be without anyone knowing?” said Kai, who without anyone noticing already had his hand on the doorknob.

“NO KAI DON’T-“

He ignored Cole, and slammed open the door. He flipped on the light switch, and was greeted with a colourful sight. This new room was very spacious, and anything but empty.

Shelves covered in glass figurines and ornate jewelry boxes lined the walls, and a giant display case bursting with dolls and plush toys stood against the far wall beside a cabinet filled with wine glasses and bottles. There was a half open wooden wardrobe with gold flowers painted on it, with many lacy and sparkling dresses and capes hanging inside. Green flowing drapes hung from the ceiling, framing a large portrait of the blonde haired boy with two others, a dark-haired solemn looking man, and a woman with red hair and a soft smile.

Kai’s mouth dropped as he stared at the beautiful decor in wonder. It was like being in the room of a disney princess. Well, aside from the coffin that was laying in the center of the room.

“Wait, what?” Kai did a double take. A… coffin. It honestly looked more like a bed with the drapes hanging over it, but it was undeniably a coffin the more he stared at it. “Woah…”

“What’s woah?” Jay peeked over his shoulder, then gasped sharply. “I can’t believe it! I was right! Hey Zane, come in here!”

All of them huddled around the coffin, except for Cole who stayed in the doorway. “Oh my god… is… that a-“

“Coffin? Yup,” Nya said, running a hand along the golden patterns on the coffin's lid. “This is so creepy…”

Cole felt like he was going to throw up. “This is so bad… this is so bad you guys- KAI!!”

Kai flinched and dropped the lid of the coffin. “What? I just wanted a peek.”

Zane’s eyes were wide with amazement. “This is incredible… we may be the first ones to discover this historical treasure… although I do agree that we shouldn’t open it,” he added, “not because of vampires, but because there is likely a decomposing body inside.”

“Gross…” Nya gagged, and stepped back to take a photo from a safer distance from the dead body.

“You seriously still don’t believe me?!” Jay shouted, while violently gesturing to the coffin. “This is all the proof you need!”

Zane narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Hardly. This doesn’t indicate anything other than the fact that this room served as a crypt of some sort, probably for a beloved family member.”

“It’s obviously a vampires bedroom!” Jay retorted. “Probably the blonde guys, since the other two were a married couple so they’d have a two person coffin-“

Nya snorted. “A two person coffin? Those don’t exist.”

“Well I for one think it’s a great product pitch!”

Kai wandered behind the coffin and gazed up at the portrait. The family seemed to really love getting their picture painted. They’d probably lose their minds if they were around when cameras were invented.

He really couldn’t see anything scary about the family though. The blonde kid especially, he just looked like a normal teenager, who just happened to have red eyes. There were plenty of normal human beings who had red eyes.

“I’m just saying there’s no way you can prove that vampires aren’t real.”

“False, I can prove it quite easily with-“

“Guys, give it a rest!” Nya groaned in exasperation. “Look, why don’t we just open the coffin for a minute so we can find out once and for all which one of you is right.”

Zane and Jay looked at each other, then both nodded in agreement. “Sure, why not?” Jay shrugged.

“While I hate disturbing such a beautiful artifact, or any possible remains inside, if it can end this tiresome discussion I agree it is the best course of action,” Zane said.

“Great!” Kai cheered, throwing his arms up, “I’ll open it-“

“NO! NO NO NO ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Cole shrieked as he barreled into the room and blocked Kai’s path. “Do you all wanna have a vampire suck the blood from you like a human juice box? BECAUSE THIS IS HOW THAT HAPPENS!”

“Cole, chill! It’ll be fine! If there was a vampire inside there, don’t you think they would have tried to kill us by now?” Kai asked, gripping onto Cole’s shoulders to try and keep him steady.

Cole glanced down and bit his lip. “Well… it’s daytime, so they might be sleeping-“

“No offense Cole, but you just did a whole lot of screaming,” Nya pointed out. “I think they’d be awake by now.”

“That’s… true… okay, fine,” Cole relented, “you can open it, but before you do…”

He walked over to a small wooden footstool that was laying on its side, and broke a leg off it. Zane let out a strangled cry. “How many times do I have to tell you people, this castle is a piece of history that IS NOT TO BE DISTURBED!”

“This thing is going to protect us,” Cole said while swinging the wooden piece around like it was a sword, “from something far more dangerous if disturbed.”

Zane rolled his eyes and backed away to give Kai room to pry open the coffin. He slid the lid off, and shoved it onto the floor. A choked gasp came from his lips when he saw what lay inside. He stumbled backwards, and was just narrowly caught by Cole before he fell over.

Cole felt his entire body shaking as he looked from the coffin to the also shaking Kai in his arms. “What?! What is it?!”

“It’s… it’s a…”

Jay finished his sentence for him. “HOLY SHIT, it’s a guy!”

Cole dropped Kai ungracefully onto the floor. “WHAT?!” He gripped his makeshift wooden stake tighter as he peered into the coffin.

The boy from the paintings was lying inside the coffin. His hair was a tangled mess, and he had a wooden stake lodged in his chest, but it was definitely him.

The room was dead silent, until Jay loudly cleared his throat. “Well Cole, somebody beat you to it…”

Cole fell to his knees, his stake clattering onto the floor. “Oh god… oh my god… thank god he’s already dead-“ Cole was hyperventilating, “thank god, oh god-“

“Hey, you wanna say sorry for dropping me anytime soon?” Kai asked dryly from where he was still lying on the floor. “No? We too focused on the dead guy?”

“Kai, this is serious!” Nya snapped at him.

Zane also fell to his knees, but for a much different reason. His quivering hands carefully pulled the boy’s shirt up to check his injuries.

“This poor boy died recently…”, he whispered, “several fresh cuts and stab wounds… he’s so cold…”

“Don’t touch him!” Cole yelped.

Zane gave him an icy glare. “Cole, please, put aside your superstition for one moment and grasp the reality of this situation!”

“What’re those stains on his shirt?” Nya asked, pointing to the red and gold splotches on the white blouse he was wearing.

“The red I’m assuming is blood,” Zane replied, “but those gold spots… paint maybe? I’m not sure…” he gently brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes, his heart aching when he saw the bruises covering his face. “Who could do something like this…”

Cole was about to say something before he received a nasty look from Nya, so he shut his mouth and clenched his fists instead.

Kai cautiously prodded at the stake lodged into the boy's chest. “Yikes, that looks like it hurt… hmm,” without thinking about it very much, Kai grabbed onto the stake and yanked it out of the body. Immediately a river of sparkling golden liquid poured out of the wound.

Cole fainted. Kai dropped the stake and grabbed onto him before he hit the floor. “Dude, snap out of it! Don’t bail on us yet!”

Cole’s eyes fluttered. “Vampire… stake… really bad…” he mumbled, drifting between being awake and being unconscious.

“He’s lost it,” Jay said flatly.

Kai lifted Cole down and laid him onto the floor, then looked down at him with a smirk. “By the way, that’s how you put someone gently onto the floor.”

“Shut up… I’m sorry…” was the last thing Cole said before completely passing out.

“Great, Cole’s blacked out, we just found a dead guy and Kai got his fingerprints on the murder weapon which means he’s totally going to be implicated…” Jay stopped mid rant and hummed thoughtfully to himself, “unless we don’t report this to the police-“

“Jay! How could you even suggest that?!” Zane yelled in shock, “he has a family!”

Jay sputtered, but then bowed his head in shame. “Your right, that was shitty thing to say… but… if he is a-“

“If the word vampire leaves your mouth at any time during the foreseeable future, I’m going to stab YOU with a wooden stake,” Nya said coldly, glaring daggers at Jay whilst already dialing 911 on her phone.

“Wait, just, hold it one minute,” Jay stuttered, “how are we supposed to explain this to the police? Hey we found a body in this old tourist attraction that barely gets any visitors anymore, actually according to the lady at the ticket booth we’re the only ones who have gone in here in like months! But there’s totally nothing suspicious about that guys, no way, haha, we’re just a bunch of innocent college students amiright? Oh god we are fu-“

“OW!”

“What is it now Kai?!”

Kai clutched his hand and hissed in pain. “I tried picking up the stake again, but I got a giant ass splinter! Look!”

He waved his hand in Jay’s face. “See? It’s huge! It’s like a whole twig is stuck in there!”

Jay batted his hand away. “Then pull it out, genius.”

Kai grimaced. “Uhhh… I’d rather not…”

Zane grabbed Kai’s uninjured hand and pulled him over to him. He sat Kai down on the rim of the coffin. “Sit still, I’ll pull it out.”

Sitting still was unfortunately not one of Kai’s strengths. He squirmed as Zane tried to pull the sliver of wood from his palm, accidentally kicking him in the knee when the pain flared up. “Ack! Sorry, it just… stings a lot- OW!”

“It hurts because you're moving around, please try not to kick me again… almost got it… got it!”

“AGGH!”

Kai quickly pulled his hand away as a drop of blood trickled down his palm. It dripped from his hand onto the boy's lips, slipping through the tiny part in his mouth.

And then the boy’s eyes opened.

-

Blood. Need blood. Thirsty. Thirsty, I’m so thirsty… need blood, blood, blood…

Lloyd gasped as air flooded back into his lungs, and his cheeks were filled with intense warmth. He breathed in slowly, and almost started crying at how good it felt to finally breathe again. He was alive. He was alive… but he was so thirsty.

Blood. Blood, I need blood now.

His stomach was aching with hunger. He felt like he was about to die again.

No, can’t die again. Blood, blood… I smell blood…

His vision was blurry from his burning hunger. Shadowy figures were leaning over him. He could hear them yelling at each other, he had no idea what they were saying. Their blood smelled delicious. He felt an urge to bite tingling in his jaw, in his fangs.

Blood, delicious blood…

His fangs… they were back. He remembered something from before dying. He could remember them pulling out his fangs… ripping out his treasured fangs, stealing them… as a prize from the hunt. They stuck silver blades into him when he struggled, blades that burned through his flesh and scraped against his bones. And then… and then they…

“Kid, can you hear us-“

He managed to use the little strength he had left to focus his vision, and was met with the sight of four humans looming over him. Lloyd screamed, and frantically tried to push himself away from them. “Leave me alone! Please!”

He tumbled out of his coffin, landing on the floor with a thud. His sharp nails scraped against the floorboards as he tried to get up and run away. It was no use. He fell back onto the floor in exhaustion, and curled up into a tight ball.

“Please, I’ll give you anything you want,” he sobbed, “just please stop hurting me!”

“None of us are going to hurt you kid, we promise,” he heard one of them say.

Lloyd nervously moved his arm aside to see who was speaking to him. The man who had spoken had tall pointed hair, and was dressed in a red… robe of some kind. He didn’t look like a hunter, but he also didn’t look like anyone Lloyd had ever seen. He took a shaky breath. “Who… who are you?”

The man kneeled down in front of him. “I’m Kai. You?”

Lloyd sniffled, and wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “Ll… Lloyd…”

“Hey Lloyd, nice to meet you. Here,” the man reached into his robe, and pulled out a small cloth. He handed it to Lloyd, who cautiously accepted it. Holding it in his hand, he realized it was a handkerchief. For him…

At that moment the dam behind his eyes burst, and the tears seemed to endlessly flow out of him. To be treated with such a simple kindness broke him after what he had endured. The overwhelming situation and the aching thirst still inside him was clouding his senses and leaving him vulnerable. Much too vulnerable.

Bite him… drink his blood…

“You poor thing,” another one of the humans, this one taller than all the others, crouched down beside Kai. “My name is Zane, what happened?”

“I… I… It was… they…” Lloyd could barely remember what happened. He didn’t want to remember what happened. All that he could recall was running, and feeling the agonizing sensation in his chest, and then darkness…

“Endless darkness…” he mumbled. It was still inside him. Gnawing away at him.

Blood, blood I need blood I need it NOW-

He hissed, startling the humans who lunged away from him. Lloyd slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Did you see that?!” the short human in the blue shirt cried out, “he has fangs!”

Oh god, now they knew. They must’ve thought he was human like them, but now they knew he wasn’t. They were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him, no… no, god please…

“Hey, hey hey it’s okay…”

Kai softly shushed him and wiped away a tear that had fallen down his cheek with the handkerchief. “Your safe now Lloyd, no one is going to hurt you anymore,” he soothed.

“You… you mean… you don’t hate me?” Lloyd asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even though I’m… a vampire?”

“Dude, I fucking knew it!” the short human shouted. “Take that Zane-“

“Jay, so not the time,” the only human who hadn’t spoken yet said. She had long black hair, and her sleeveless shirt showed off her built arm muscles. She out of all the humans was the most intimidating.

“Of course we don’t hate you dear,” Zane said, “but when you say vampire… do you really mean…?”

Bite someone now, drink their blood. Do it. Do it NOW.

“Stay with us kid, it’s going to be okay,” Kai placed a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, but jerked away when Lloyd shuddered. “Sorry, I should’ve-“

He could barely even force himself to speak at this point. Kai’s hand was so warm, and his neck was so close…

BITE HIM DRINK HIS BLOOD DO IT NOW-

His thirst was only getting worse with each passing moment. Pushing away his intrusive thoughts was becoming excruciating, and it was showing on his face as sweat dripped down his temples.

“Please don’t come any closer,” Lloyd begged, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not safe to be around right now…”

Kai backed away, but his gentle expression didn’t waver. “We’re not going to leave you like this, your obviously hurt really bad.”

Bad was an understatement. The gouge in Lloyd’s chest had only partially healed, and blood was still oozing out of the wounds left by the silver knife. If he could get even the tiniest bit of blood…

Jay coughed. “Uh, Kai, if the six hundred year old vampire says he’s going to go crazy, then maybe we should-“

“SIX HUNDRED?!” Lloyd gasped, clutching his chest in shock. There was no way he had seriously been dead for that long. “Oh god… I’ve missed so many… oh god…”

“Uh, well… I mean I might’ve miscalculated the exact amo-“ Jay clamped his mouth shut as he shrunk under the glares from every other human in the room.

Six hundred years… but then that meant… that meant… they were dead. The ones who had done this to him were dead. It felt horrible, celebrating that someone was dead. But…

Kai seemed to catch onto what he was thinking. “The people who did this to you are long gone, lucky for them,” Kai clenched his fist into a tight ball, “because I would’ve made them feel ten times more pain…” he growled.

“And then I would’ve made them feel twenty times that, and ground their asses into the dirt,” the black-haired woman added, her eyes lit up with intensity.

“And I would’ve… uh,” Zane stumbled, “defended you the best I could, because no one should ever have to suffer such horrible abuse.”

Despite the pain, Lloyd could feel a warm sensation filling his chest. These people, whom he had only just met, were treating him with kindness he wasn’t accustomed to from those outside of his family. Perhaps… vampires weren’t as hated now, in this new time period. What a lovely time it must be.

Jay, who was still trying to avoid anyone else’s eyes, found himself staring at the glass cabinet behind the coffin. It was filled with bottles of ‘red wine’, a.k.a, probably blood. He pried it open, and took a bottle out. It was cold, and caked in layers of dust. “Hey uh, this isn’t… human blood, right Lloyd?”

Lloyd’s eyes locked onto the bottle in Jay’s hands. His pupils dilated. “Give me that… please.”

Jay gulped. “Uh, sure…” not wanting to get too close, he tentatively rolled the bottle over to Lloyd, who snatched it up faster than he could blink.

The cork was thrown heedlessly aside. The blood inside the bottle was ancient and spoiled, but Lloyd savoured every last drop. He only stopped once to take a gasp of air, chugging the sweet red elixir until the bottle was completely dry.

He sighed with relief as the ravenous voices in his head quieted. Almost immediately, his wounds began healing. The bruises on his skin disappeared, and the gouges and cuts in his flesh vanished without a trace. His full senses returned to him, his eyes grew sharper and his ears twitched as he took in every bit of sound around him.

Kai helped him to his feet. “I’m guessing you're feeling a bit better now?” he asked, taking in Lloyd’s now completely healthy looking appearance.

Lloyd grinned, fangs on full display. “I’m feeling wonderful now, thank you.”

“Woah!” Jay ran over and leaned in close to Lloyd’s face. “Those are so cool!”

“My… fangs? Really?”

Jay bounced up and down on the spot, barely able to contain his excitement. “Totally! Sorry about how I acted earlier, I was just surprised, but this is so awesome! You're a real vampire!”

“O-Oh…” Lloyd blushed, and looked down at his feet. “Thank you-“

“I have so many questions! Okay, one, do you burn in the sun, or is it just like irritating? Oh, and is the garlic thing real? No wait, when you turn into a bat where do your clothes go- hey!” Jay grunted as the dark-haired woman pushed him aside.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like this about everything,” she said, “I’m Nya by the way, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jay ran over to Zane, and pulled a notebook and pencil out from his shoulder bag. He ducked under Nya’s arm and sat down on the rim of the coffin. “Okay, as I was saying-“

“Sunlight burns us, but we don’t burst into flames or anything, garlic makes my tongue swell up, and…” Lloyd pondered the last question for a moment, “y’know, I’ve never actually thought about that… I assumed they just disappeared… then reappeared.”

Jay paused his furious scribbling of notes. “What? But how does that work?”

Lloyd shrugged. “Don’t ask me! Wait, let me show you something…”

He stretched out his arm, and smiled as a green flicker of light danced across the palm of his hand. For a moment he had feared his powers hadn’t returned yet, but the sparkling flicker growing into an orb of bright light in his hand assured him otherwise.

Jay, as well as Nya, Zane and Kai watched, mesmerized. Lloyd shaped the orb into a diamond, then into a flower, and then in a burst of light dissolved it into a shower of tiny sparkles that floated through the air.

“This… doesn’t make any sense,” Zane said, gazing up at the ceiling that was now lit up with hundreds of star-like lights.

“Does it have to?” Nya replied, smiling as a light landed on her nose. She sneezed, and it drifted until it landed on her finger. “This is so beautiful…”

Lloyd spun around the room, letting out more bursts of sparkles each time the lights dimmed out. He abruptly came to a stop behind the coffin. “Why… is there a sleeping man here?”

They all looked at each other. “Shit, I forgot Cole was still passed out,” Kai said, rushing over to go shake Cole awake. “Cole! Wake up buddy!”

“Hnnngh… huh?” Cole blinked wearily. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Whuhhappened?”

Kai swallowed stiffly. “Don’t freak out, but-“

Lloyd blew a tiny sparkle to Cole. “Greetings sleepy human!” he giggled.

Cole’s face turned pale as he caught sight of Lloyd’s fangs. ”Y… You… your a… vamp-“

“Yes, I am a vampire!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!”

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat

Pairing: none of the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt:  You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: The plan the three of you created was solid, and you all thought you were prepared to kill whatever took Will and finally bring him home. Things never go how they’re planned, though, do they?

Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff, language, violence (finally!!!), horror elements, gore

Word Count: 3720

A/N: New part! I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the tag list for this series is open!

Catch up: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

As soon as you had settled down onto your bed, a knock at the front door made you get back up.

You yanked the door open after shooing Mews away, letting out a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, however, when you saw who was at your door. “Jonathan. What’s going on?”

Jonathan let out a sigh. “Lonnie is at the house,” he explained gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“What?” You shook your head slightly. W-Why? Did he do something to you?”

He shook his head. “He’s just... There. I’m guessing for the funeral, but...”

“That’s bullshit.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, pursing his lips. 

“Well, do you want to stay the night here? Or do you want me to go over there?”

“No, no. It’s okay. I just... Needed to get out for a second.”

You nodded slowly, stepping to the side to let him in. “Did he say anything to you?” you questioned as you both walked back to your room.

“Said that mom is sick. That I’m pushing her over the edge. Told me to behave at the funeral tomorrow.” He huffed, sitting down on your bed. “Said that I should take down my Evil Dead poster because it was ‘inappropriate.’”

“God, what a fucking douche bag,” you grumbled, flopping down onto your bean bag chair. “He’s telling you to behave? And that you’re pushing your mom over the edge?” Your face felt hot, hands beginning to shake. “Fuck him!”

He sighed, tugging on the loose strings of your comforter. “It’s like he wasn’t the one who came home drunk every night and then left us to fend for ourselves.”

“He’ll be gone soon, trust me. Either your mom is gonna kick him out or...”

“Or?”

“Or I’m gonna kill him.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t kill him. He’s not worth the effort or the prison time.”

You laughed along with him, standing up and walking over to him. “Yeah I guess you’re right.” You sat down next to him on the bed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “... I’m scared, Jonathan.”

He took your hand in his and traced his fingers along the lines on your palm. “Why are you nervous?”

You shrugged slightly. “What if...” You shook your head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

He sighed and pulled away slightly, touching your chin to tilt your head up so you could look him in the eye. “Don’t say that. Your fears aren’t stupid.”

You offered him a small smile before taking a deep breath, gathering your emotions. “What if... Whatever took Will and Barb... What if it takes one of us? Takes me? I mean, I’m no different from them, and we’re actively hunting the thing that took them. It can take me just as easily.”

Jonathan’s hand left your chin, grabbing onto your other hand and holding them tightly. “I’m not gonna let that happen. I’m gonna be right behind you the whole time. Nothing bad is gonna happen, I promise.” 

***

You had dreaded getting ready that morning, both because you had to get up early on a Saturday and you had to actually put effort into your look.

You woke up at 8 and trudged to the bathroom, pulling out your mom’s curling iron and getting to work.

It had taken about an hour to get your hair perfect, not too curly but just curly enough that it looked like you made an effort. You sprayed a tiny bit of hairspray and applied some light eye shadow, mascara, blush, and chapstick in the mirror.

Afterwards, you slipped on the black button-down dress that sat in the back of your closet, unworn until that moment, along with your pair of combat boots.

Once you were finished, you stepped out into the living room where your mother and Dustin were waiting. 

“You own a dress?” Dustin remarked, half shocked and half teasing.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “God, shut up,” you grumbled.

“You are not wearing those combat boots. There’s a pair of flats in my closet, go put them on,” your mom complained.

You sighed and grabbed your keys. “It’s fine. We’re gonna be late!”

***

The ceremony extremely long, and your feet were aching the entire time (thank god you wore your combat boots). The pastor droned on and on about faith and God and whatnot, placing bible passages between every other sentence.

You stood behind Jonathan, your hands resting on his shoulders and habitually smoothing down his hair, anything to make sure that the both of you didn’t drift off. You kept your eyes on the patch of grass under your feet, unable to look at the small coffin just feet from you. Even if Will’s real body wasn’t in there, the thought of him being dead and stuffed into the ground for the bugs to eat made you nauseous.

As soon as the last flower was tossed on top of the coffin, you and Jonathan hurried out of the crowd after accepting a few weak condolences. Nancy lingered behind for a moment to avoid drawing suspicion. 

“I never knew you wore dresses,” Jonathan voiced as you two walked towards the chapel. 

You scoffed. “God, that’s the third time today-” you began.

“You look nice. Pretty.”

A blush rose to your cheeks and a small smile crept onto your lips. “Thanks.”

As soon as you felt that you were far enough away, the three of you cowered behind a fenced-off gathering of headstones. Jonathan tugged out a folded up paper from his coat pocket, unfolding it as you all sat down on the dead grass. on the paper was a map of the area where Barb and Will disappeared. “This is where we know for sure it’s been, right,” Jonathan explained, showing you and Nancy the map.

“So that’s-” Nancy started, pointing at one of the areas marked with an x.

“Steve’s house.” Jonathan pointed to another x. “And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike.” He pointed to the last x. “And that’s my house.”

“It’s all so close.”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is... It’s not traveling far.”

Nancy looked at him. “..You want to go out there.”

He nodded. “We might not find anything.”

“I found something.”

“But if we do see it,” you spoke up, “then what?”

Jonathan sighed, looking off into the distance for a moment before looking back at you and Nancy. “We kill it.”

He shot up all of a sudden, not even waiting for you and Nancy before hurrying over to the parking lot. You and Nancy shared a look before chasing after him, worry immediately settling in your chest when you saw him start to pick the lock for Lonnie’s car. “Jonathan, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you voiced when he was in earshot, not wanting to shout and draw attention. “What are you even doing?”

He yanked the passenger door open and sat down in the seat, getting to work on the glove compartment. “Just give me a second,” he huffed. After jiggling his blade in the lock, it came undone and he pulled the compartment open. He sifted through the contents before pulling out a pistol and a box of bullets, quickly examining them before stuffing them in his pockets.

“Are you serious?” Nancy ridiculed, jaw dropping.

“What? You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?”

“Jonathan, we’ve just crossed into illegal territory. If Lonnie finds out, he’s gonna sue you for everything you have!” you whisper-yelled, glancing around to make sure no one was looking.

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” He hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nancy argued.

“Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to stay calm. “What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.”

“Your mom would.”

“She’s been through enough-”

“She deserves to know!”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her. When this thing is dead.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, nodding once. “Fine,” you grumbled.

***

You met Jonathan at the small makeshift shooting range that Lonnie had set up years ago. The cans were rusted and the logs were rotted, but that didn’t seem to bother Jonathan, who was trying his hardest to shoot anything other than the dirt.

“Don’t waste all the bullets, Johnny Boy. We’re gonna need them eventually,” you teased. flashing him a smile.

He let out a chuckle and dropped his arm to his side, turning to face you. His eyes immediately glanced down to the machete you decided to bring with you. “Where did you even find that?” he asked incredulously.

“I stole it from Dustin’s room. Pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re gonna stab one of us from swinging it.” 

You rolled your eyes and hummed. “But at least I’ll hit something, Byers.”

“Well played.” He reached his hand out and you handed him the blade. He examined it closely, poking the tip in the ground a few times before handing it back to you.

You took it from his hands and sat down in the dirt, watching as he sat down across from you. “Can I share a theory I have?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“What if the area that this creature is appearing in... What if it’s a ley line?”

“What’s a ley line?”

“It’s these lines that supposedly align prehistoric monuments and things like that. But it’s supposed to bring along energy. Maybe this area is on a ley line, and it’s bringing along this extra energy that led to all this weird stuff happening and this... thing.”

“I mean, it’s possible.”

You let out a sigh, tracing the tip of the machete in the dirt and creating random doodles. “The problem is, if it was on a ley line, these weird things would’ve been happening for a long time. It doesn’t make sense for it to randomly start happening now.”

You two sat in silence for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard footsteps approaching. You jumped up from the ground and pointed your blade at the source.

“Jesus!” Nancy exclaimed, holding her hands up in the air, her bat dropping to the ground.

“Sorry, just a little... Jumpy,” you sighed, lowering the machete back down to your side. “Hopefully you don’t drop your bat when there’s an actual threat,” you teased, picking it up and handing it back to her.

Meanwhile, Jonathan had returned to the metallic targets, firing at them but never hitting them.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” Nancy hummed, stepping closer to him.

He chuckled. “No, actually, you see the spaces between the cans? I’m aiming for those,” he joked, a small smile on his face.

“Ah.” She shrugged off her shoulder bag, tossing that and her bat alongside your things. 

“You ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffed. “Have you met my parents?”

“I’m surprised your dad doesn’t have one hidden away in his bedside drawer, just in case the commies come for him,” you teased, nudging her shoulder with yours.

Jonathan chuckled, emptying out the shells into his hand. “I haven’t shot a gun since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy voiced, concerned.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me more of a man or something. I cried for a week.”

“Jesus.”

“What? I’m a fan of Thumper.”

“I mean your dad.”

“Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point. but... I wasn’t around for that part.” He quickly loaded six bullets into the chamber and cocked the gun. Nancy reached her hand out, offering to try, and he handed it to her with no hesitance. “Uh, yeah. Just point and shoot.”

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

“They must have married for some reason.”

“My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family...”

You began to zone out at that moment, your own thoughts that you were too scared to voice swarming in your mind. Your tongue was literally in-between your teeth, trying your hardest to speak your mind.

You nearly bit through your tongue when Nancy shot the gun, the bullet connecting with the can and making it fly to the ground. Your thoughts scattered like startled birds, and you blinked your eyes a few times to get yourself focused back into the present.

“Y/N?” Jonathan voiced, his hand touching your shoulder, making you jump. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m good.”

***

The tip of your nose and your fingers felt numb as you walked, the cold effectively chilling them to the point where they were bright red. Thoughts of regret continuously popped in your head, telling yourself that you should have stayed home instead of freezing your ass off in the Indiana woods.

“You never said what I was saying,” Nancy voiced, tearing the blanket of silence.

“What?” Jonathan responded, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yesterday. You said I was saying something and that was why you took my picture.”

“Oh, uh... I don’t know.” he was silent for a moment, pondering. “My guess... I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment, it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself.”

Nancy was silent for a moment. “... That is such bullshit.”

Jonathan stopped in his tracks for a moment, nearly making you run into him, before he began walking again. “What?”

Nancy stopped, prompting everyone to stop, as well. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him-”

Jonathan sighed and stomped forward. “You know what, just forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.”

Nancy followed behind him, forcing you to keep up with them. “He’s actually a good guy.”

“Okay.”

“Yesterday, with the camera...” She rushed to catch up with him. “He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” He huffed and attempted to storm off. 

“Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?”

“No, I-I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed-”

“Okay, alright. Does that mean I have to like him?” Jonathan stopped and turned to face her, which gave you some time to catch up to them.

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people, he’s in the fast majority.” He huffed and turned on his heel to walk away once more.

“You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’“

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay.”

“Oh-”

“I was thinking ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales and they live out a boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac., exactly like their parents who they thought were so depressing but now, hey, they get it.’“

“God, can you guys grow up for once in your goddamn lives!” you finally screamed, making them both jump and turn to you. “If you guys had forgotten what the point of this whole fucking thing is, it’s to find Will and whatever that thing is that took him. Can you guys just deal with each other for one fucking night!”

“Y/N-” Nancy began.

“And at least you guys know who your dad is, because I sure as fucking hell don’t!” Tears welled in your eyes and you looked up at the sky to keep them from falling.

They were both silent, eyes glued on you as you fell apart. “Y/N,” Jonathan voiced this time.

You cast your gaze back down to the ground, shaking your head slightly before stomping away, tears slipping down your cheeks.  

***

The sun had already set, leaving the woods completely barren of light, save for your tiny handheld flashlights you all carried.

None of you had spoken a word since the blow up, which happened about 2 hours ago. You could feel the dried tear tracks lingering on your cheeks, but you didn’t dare wipe them away to show Nancy and Jonathan that you had been crying.

You nearly collided with Nancy when she suddenly stopped, almost unnoticed by you due to your lingering stare towards the ground. 

“What, are you tired?” Jonathan sighed, turning to you two.

“Shut up,” Nancy commanded, glancing around nervously.

“What?”

“I heard something.”

Suddenly, a sharp whimper pierced through the air, sounding as though it was coming from only yards away.

Your brows furrowed in thought for a moment before turning towards the sound and walking that way, not waiting for Nancy and Jonathan. The whimpering grew louder and more persistent with each step, causing fear to brew in the pit of your stomach.

As you shone your flashlight around, something reflective sparkled under the light, in the same area that the whimpering was coming from. Gripping the handle of your machete tightly, you made your way over to the source, your jaw dropping in horror when you finally came across the sight of a wounded deer laying in the brush.

“Oh, god,” Nancy choked out, all of you focusing your light on the wounded animal.

Slowly, you all knelt down in front of it, trying to avoid scaring it.

“It’s been hit by a car,” Nancy voiced.

You shook your head, gently reaching out and pointing at the deep cuts along its side. “A car doesn’t leave bite marks like this. Something attacked it,” you explained, gingerly gliding your fingertips along its un-wounded leg.

“We can’t just leave it.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat as you pushed yourself to your feet. “It hasn’t lost enough blood for it to bleed out quickly.”

Nancy stared down at the pistol in her hand, then looked back at the deer.

“I’ll do it,” Jonathan voiced, holding his hand out.

“Jonathan,” you sighed, reaching out and touching his shoulder for a moment.

Nancy hesitated. “I thought you said-” she began.

“I’m not nine anymore.” He took the gun from her hand and they both rose to their feet, stepping back next to you.

You held back a sob and slowly turned around, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the gunshot.

Suddenly, Nancy and Jonathan jumped back in horror, Jonathan tightly grabbing onto your arm.

“What happened?” you asked, spinning around to look at the deer, only to see a bloodied patch of grass where it once laid.

“Something took it, something grabbed it,” Jonathan rushed out, letting his hand fall from your arm, fingers grazing against yours for a split second.

“Could it have been a bobcat? Or a wolf?” 

He shook his head. “It was too quick. There’s no way.”

You let out a sigh and gulped, tightening your grip on your machete before walking forward, following the bloody trail left behind.

“Where’d it go?” Nancy voiced, glancing around quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan sighed. “Do you see any more blood?”

“No,” you huffed, shining your flashlight around. “It just... Stopped.”

Jonathan nodded and turned around, going the way you just came from. You and Nancy searched for more blood, slowly walking along the line and glancing forward at the large tree in front of you.

“Nancy,” you whispered, nudging her and gesturing at the base of the tree, which appeared to be dripping with something blood-like.

“What the hell is that?” she questioned, both of you crouching down and examining the cavernous and bloodied hole. 

“Sometimes animals store their food in tree trunks, but the animal doesn’t just... Disappear after.” You sighed and got down on your hands and knees, slowly inching into the tree.

It looked as if the hole in the tree continued forever, with no clear end in sight. With a sigh, you scooted forward, trying to keep the contents of your stomach from coming up at the awful smell of the odd substance that coated the insides of the tree, reeking of spit and gore and rot. Nancy followed close behind you, her gags and gulps audible.

You had finally reached what appeared to be an exit, covered by an odd membrane-like barrier. You poked the tip of your blade through it and tore it open, slipping through the new opening and coming out on the other side, feeling as if you were just born again.

Nancy came out right behind you, both of you immediately rising to your feet and glancing around, your view slightly impaired due to your flashlight which now began to flicker.

The air seemed thicker, somehow, and odd ashy particles floated around the air. Everything appeared grayer and dingier, and odd purple vines covered the forest floor and the trees.

“Where are we?” Nancy whispered, to which you could only respond with a shake of your head. You stepped forward, holding your machete out in front of you.

A loud snarl sounded to the right of you, both of you turning to view the source.

An odd, gangling and pale creature stood hunched over, feasting on the remains of the deer that you had found earlier. You covered your mouth, feeling Nancy slowly step back.

A twig snapped underneath her feet.

The creature turned to you two, letting out a horrifying roar. He had no eyes, no face, just five petals of skin flared out, covered in rows of sharp teeth. You both let out screams and turned the other way, sprinting as fast as your bodies would allow to get as far away from the creature as possible.

As your heart pounded in your ears, you could hear the faint echo of Jonathan’s voice screaming for Nancy.

[spnwriter]

not good enough

I didn't think this all the way through.  It was normal for me to hunting alone because as soon as I hit my teen years my dad and I parted ways. He was always ashamed of me. He started me hunting when I was big enough to hold a gun. Hotel after hotel, case after case for years and I was fine until this one case. I should have known that I couldn't take on a whole coven no matter how strong I am. I sigh loudly trying to pull the cuffs off. Fucking witches. Just as the coven is almost done with the spell the doors fly open. Two large men come in guns blazing. The witches notice quickly but, these two rather attractive men are really good shots. It isn't long before every witch is dead. The tallest of the two crotches down to my level eyes scanning my face.

“Are you hurt?” He asks before noticing the large gash on my side. The flannel I'm wearing drenched in blood sticking to my skin.  The bitches needed my blood for a spell, I didn't want to explain it. Typically hunters don't take well to my being half-demon and not just any demon, half knight of hell. I so didn't need another person trying to kill me in the same day.

“Dean!” the tall hunter calls as he slowly reaches for my side. He looks me in the eyes  before warning me “I'm going to  pull up your shirt to look at your wound...okay?”

He waits for me to nod before he even moves to touch me. The other guy named Dean appears in front of me. His green eyes observing me as he asks “How bad is it?”  He bends to eye level as the first guy gently lifts my shirt.

“She's going to need stitches but she'll live.” the first guy answers as he lowers my shirt. “I'm Sam that's my brother Dean.”

I raise my eyebrows “Winchester?”

Sam nods as he reaches to pick the lock on my cuffs.

“Sam wait,” Dean announces suddenly “Look at the cuffs.”

Sam's eyes trail back up to mine. “Demon cuffs? You're a demon?”

“Only part.” I utter closing my eyes knowing my fate. No one says anything, nothing happens. I open my eyes when I feel warms hands slide under my legs lifting me. I come face to chest with Sam Winchester. He doesn't say anything, neither of them do. He gently sets me in the back of a classic impala before sitting beside me. Dean climbs into the front seat. The sounds of classic rock and the wheels on the road lull me to sleep.

When I awake I'm laying still cuffed but in my bra a bandage wrapped around my ribs. The ceiling an indication that I'm in a motel somewhere. I slowly sit up wincing as my stitches pull slightly. The door opens, the brothers walk in carrying brown paper bags. They both pause talking when they notice I'm awake.

“Oh you're awake.” Sam smiles sitting at the dinette table.

“You hungry?” Dean asks before setting a brown paper bag next to me. He walks to the table to sit in front of Sam.

What the hell is going on? First, these guys find out I'm half-demon and the don't kill me.  Then they take me back to their motel, bandage me up, get me food. I mean yeah I'm pretty harmless with these cuffs on but, still. So many hunters after they find out I'm half demon want to kill me. I have to dodge hunters on the daily that want me dead yet here are two that are treating me like a human being.  I don't understand it. I glance at the brothers who were silently eating beside me. What do they want? Surely they want something right? The only reason for them keeping my alive is because they need something right? The last time I got myself into this situation the hunter who captured me wanted something. I was reluctant to agree but, I wasn't given much of a choice. I had to kill an innocent. It still haunts me to this day, plagues my sleep.  

I didn't realize that I was staring at the pair until I feel a warm hand on my knee. I meet worry-filled hazel eyes. Before Sam could even say anything I blurt out “Why are you doing this?”

Sam's face shows confusion as Dean speaks up “Doing what?”

I look over at Dean sat at the table, beer bottle in his hands. Facial expression matching his younger brother. I drop my eyes pretending a patch of stained carpet is more interesting than this conversation. Sam squeezes my knee slightly drawing my attention back to his eyes.

“Doing what?” Sam asks quietly.

Something about the way, he's looking at me, with actual concern like he genuinely cares. He waits patiently for me to answer, doesn't press me to speak just waits on my answer. I cast my eyes on the shinny cuffs attached to my wrists whispering “Treating me like a person.”

“Because you are one.” Sam smiles gently.

“We do need to talk.” Dean speaks softly as if his voice would break me.

“I'm sure you have questions and I will answer them but I won't kill any innocents.” I look up at Sam who's already scanning my face.

“Have you been asked that before?” Sam inquires.

“Last time a hunter didn't try to kill me is because he wanted something from me...” I trail off still not making eye contact with the men before me.

“The hunter made you kill someone?” Sam sighs lightly

I nod not wanting to talk about it.

“Why were you at that coven?” Dean's voice causes me to look up at him. His green eyes holding sadness, the weight of worlds held in those beautiful gemstone colored eyes.  He's observing me, trying to see if I'm a threat or not. I don't blame him.

“I um...I was raised to be a hunter, grew up in the life.” I explain keeping eye contact with Dean. I want him to know that I am of no threat to him or his brother. “I was working a job when they cornered me...from what I understand they baited me to come because they needed my blood for a spell and I fell for it.”

“That's why you were bleeding when we found you.” Sam says to himself more than me.

“Apparently using my blood you can have a direct line to Lucifer himself. They said something about a sacrifice. It's all a bit hazy.” I confess.

Sam and Dean exchange a look, seemingly having a conversation. The younger Winchester turns to me a gentle smile on his face as he starts to pick the lock on the iron chains on my wrists. After he takes the cuffs off he gently brushes his thumb over the red marks on my wrist. He's so careful of his touch, making sure it's soft and nonthreatening. I ate while the brothers made small talk, asked me all about myself. My name, where I grew up, how long I'd been hunting for, if I had anywhere to go while I healed.  They told me all about how they were raised in the life, the yellowed eyed demon that started it all, their angle friend. It was nice to talk to someone that wasn't a witness, a cop or cornier. After a while, Dean announced that he was headed to the bar. I declined in favor of staying in bed and Sam said no (I assume to keep me company).

Sam and I were sat side by side against the headboard.  Sam and I had made a snack run to the vending machine grabbing a ton of junk food. He's so easy to get along with, doesn't force convention and silence with him isn't uncomfortable. I don't know how long we just sit side by side not a word spoken, some movie playing on the TV. Just being near someone is a comfort I feel like Sam knows that. I'm not sure when exactly I had fallen asleep but, I wake up to Dean's gentle voice.

“Hey sweetheart...it's time to wake up.” Dean whispers gently squeezing my shoulder. My eyes flutter open.

“We're going to get breakfast, want to join us after Sammy changes your bandages?” Dean asks voice still soft.

And just like that, I ended up in the bunker with the brothers. It was an adjustment having people around. More often than not I was awake at night, paddling around the bunker trying to find sleep. Sam made the transition smooth. I spent a lot of time with him. I helped with research, we ran together (I started running for him), we watched his french movies. Soon I had fallen for the taller Winchester and I panicked.  I can't have feelings for someone who is totally out of my league. I began pushing him away, knowing he wouldn't understand why. It was week four into pushing Sam away trying to get over this crush when Dean called me out. It was late, I was in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when Dean sat in front of me hard look on his face.

“Why are you pushing Sam away?” Dean asks, not beating around the bush

“I'm not.” I lie

“I lie for a living Y/N, try that again.”

“I...I....” I stutter not wanting to tell him anything about my feelings for his brother. I can't like Sam, he's far too good for me. I don't deserve such an amazing wold saving man. He wouldn't even like me back. I know he doesn't.

“That's what this is about? You like Sammy?” Dean exclaims slamming his hands on the table.

“What?” Did I really say that out loud? Shit!

“You said that out loud  sweetheart. Listen just tell him. He think you're mad at him for something. He's been trying to figure it out for weeks...talk to him he's going crazy without you.” Dean sighs “He misses you.”

“I miss him too.” I frown standing to dump the cereal down the drain

“Then talk to him about it. He's awake.” Dean pushes before leaving the kitchen.

I groan, if what Dean said was true then I really do need to talk to him. I didn't mean to make him think he did anything wrong. It was all me, I'm the problem. But it wouldn't be Sam without him blaming himself.  I slowly make my way to his room. I pause at his door. I so don't want to have this convention, I know he's gonna reject me but at the same time I don't want him blaming himself for something that isn't his fault. I frown knocking on his door lightly part of my hopes he doesn't answer. My hopes are not true when he calls “Come in.”

I open the door seeing him in sweats, a solid t-shirt and a book in hand. His eyes meet mine and widen with surprise. He places a bookmark placing the book on his nightstand.

“Can we talk?” I ask playing with my fingers.

“Yeah, Yeah of course.” Comes Sam's reply.

I move to sit on his side of the bed making sure to leave space between us. I feel a little safer when I'm outside his reach.

“Dean talked to me tonight...”

“What did he say?” Sam cuts me off.

“We just talked about why I had been pushing you away and told me that you think it's your fault.” I explain keeping my eyes on the wall before me.

“It is isn't it?”

I turn to him, seeing the sadness on his expression.

“No, Sammy, it's not your fault, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you did too much right.”

“What does that mean?”

I cast my gaze on his bedspread “I um...I developed feelings for you and you don't have to say anything I know you don't feel the same and it's okay I get it. I know I'm not good.”

“No.” Sam cuts me off once more.  “Don't finish that sentence. You've been pushing me away...because you don't think you're good enough for me?”

I nod still not making eye contact scared of what his eyes are saying. He gently reaches across and lifts my face to look him in the eyes.

“Y/N...I have feelings for you too. I thought you saw that and didn't feel the same. You are beautiful but beyond that, you are an amazing hunter, person and damn my brother loves you. If anything I'm not enough because of all the mistakes I've made.”

“Our mistakes don't define us, it's what we do after that does.” I smile as he slowly leans in. His lips press against mine. I don't know what the future holds but as long as I have my sweet Sam by my side I know I can handle whatever the universe throws at us.

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Heaven Is a City We’ve Been Priced Out Of (Ch 2)

AO3 Link 

Warnings: Possible triggers revolving around the idea of death and dying.

The knife in his lap was heavy but the man next to him was sweet. 

Bucky passed him a burger and fries, adjusted as he drove one handed out of the drive thru. The heat radiated through the wrapper, piping hot in a way only mom and pop burger joints ever seemed to achieve. Drool was pooling in his mouth as he carefully unwrapped the palm sized gift. Bucky stopped the car in the parking lot briefly to situated his own burger, foot still on the break, suggesting that he planned to eat while they drove. 

Peter was nervous but hid it as his teeth sunk into the burger. The paper crinkled and the bun greased his lips shiny. Juice squeezed out the sides, bubbling but contained as the bread soaked it up. The beef was tender but still maintained enough body to pull its own weight. The sour spiked note of the pickle and the slightly sweet harmony of the ketchup had a sigh slipping past his lips. As he pulled away, strands of cheese followed, keeping him connected. Licking his lips, he wiped away the mess but immediately dove in for more. Eyes slipping shut, he hummed as his first warm meal in months settled like a soft ember in his stomach, warmed up from the inside out. In his blissed out state, the eyes watching him went unnoticed, their normal daggers softened by the scene, allowing them to slip by. 

The burger disappeared quickly, the rest of the meal quick to follow suit. As Peter leaned back he took a deep breath. Food had been too scarce for too long, his stomach pushed at his lungs from the volume of the meal. It ached but he’d take it over the familiar knaw of hunger. The car had started moving once more at some point in his meal. He watched as the city bled to suburbs then farmland. Didn’t take more than a half an hour on the freeway to reach rural stretches. Was strange to think about all those bodies jammed into the tent city when so much land lay just outside. 

The drive was quiet, the hum of the radio tuned to a 40s channel filled the cab. Peter rolled the closed knife between his palms, mindless and simply needing to fidget. Nearly jumped out of his skin when Bucky spoke.

“Almost home.”

“Oh,” The sound quiet and just before he turned to look at Bucky. 

Bucky was handsome, it was hard not to stare and Peter was certainly doing so. The short beard, the long hair peeking out from under his cap. Strong jaw and a frame so large he made Peter look like a child in comparison. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch him, assure himself that Bucky was real, that this wasn’t a cruel dream. 

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the road. 

Peter wished he could sink into the seat, snapped his head forward and pretended he hadn’t been blatantly looking up the man next to him. “Yeah… just making sure you aren’t gonna vanish into thin air.” Bit his tongue, hard. 

Bucky was silent. Peter jumped when a hand gently touched his elbow. “I’m not going anywhere, darling.”

Peter ignored the safety of that phrase, the way it pulled at his ribs. It was too intimate, too much of a promise from someone he’d just met. He wanted to trust Bucky so badly. Knew that this drive could well be his last. At some point though… why not just let it happen? He was dying. He could feel it. His body moments away from vanishing into dust. At least here, if Bucky killed him he would have a full belly. He would have lived the last hours of his life with some shreds of tenderness. Easier to die fighting than to roll over and let his body waste away.

Even with the knife, Bucky could still hurt him. The man was a mountain and Peter a finch. Still, the knife was a promise. An oath. Maybe Peter was naïve for buying into it but he’d lived his life on faith too long to jump ship now. 

They pulled up to a farmhouse. Startlingly rustic and was hard to put with Bucky’s city attire and accent. It was dark, but he could make out soft russet siding, a roof traditional of the housing style in brown. It was charming, didn’t read as a murder den but then he doubted most of them did. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as Bucky stepped out of the car. 

“Need help gettin’ out?” Bucky leaned in through the open door way of the driver’s side. 

“I think I can manage.” It was harder for him to lower himself with the way his hip had been injured, it locked at a fairly shallow angle and sitting was more often a semi controlled fall unless he was on his knees first and then turned. Standing on the other hand was easier. There were still hiccups, his joints would creak and pop in protest but he would make it. Did make it as he braced himself on the door frame once he’d swung it open. The sound of Bucky’s door closing behind him and the crunch of gravel suggested Bucky was coming around. 

It was a moment he was left completely open. The knife was resting in his pocket so he could stand and his slowed rise left him vulnerable. Yet, Bucky came around and leaned on the door frame next to him, letting him take the time he needed. Didn’t touch him or pressure him in any form, and fuck, if it wasn’t just another point in Bucky’s favor. Too many times others would ignore his need for some level of independence. The things he could do, no matter how hard, were important to him. He may have needed Bucky’s help sitting but Bucky refraining from forcing his assistance on Peter was more than most would give him. 

Bucky walked behind Peter as they started towards the house, a nearby field of mint spicing the air. The house loomed, tall and dark. It promised something, whether it was good or something which would spell his end was uncertain. He stuck his hands in his pockets, ran his left one over the handle of the folded blade, had to take the right side railing in order to keep holding on to the knife. Bucky rounded in front of him once they were on the porch, unlocked the door and flipped on the lights as he went in. The honey toned lights made the door just welcoming enough to encourage Peter through. 

The interior of Bucky’s home gave off an energy that could only be described as sturdy. Everything from the armchair to the coffee table was made of solid oak and dark twisted iron. It made each piece look capable, like the mountain that used them was no more a burden than a feather. The walls were covered in a cream colored wallpaper, their edges not quite laid correctly and overlapping. It was endearing, suggested that it had been done by an occupant rather than a professional, a personal touch. 

“The shower is down that hallway, second door on the left. I’ll bring you some fresh clothes just leave yours outside the door.” Bucky pointed to a hallway that ran off to the right towards the middle of the room, separated the living room and what appeared to be a small dining room. 

“Okay,” A hint of uncertainty leaking into his tone as he turned down the dark hall, almost jumped when the light turned on. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Bucky’s arm disappearing behind the wall, presumably having turned on the light for him. Peter caught himself smiling at the detail. 

The bathroom was painted a rich chocolate brown, it felt homely and warm and Peter honestly loved it. The clawfoot tub called his name, he could see himself spending a lazy fall night in it. Was quick to shunt that idea out of his head, reminded himself that this was temporary and only for the night. He was only supposed to shower, not dirty the white porcelain. He ignored the tub and went about figuring out the shower. The two knobs were unlabeled, worn away by time and use. It took nearly burning himself to figure out which was which. 

 Peter stripped himself bare, stared at the ratty jeans and the band t-shirt so faded that the design was nothing more than a shadow. Most embarrassing was his underwear. Plain blue boxer briefs with holes ripped below the elastic, so stretched out that it barely stayed on his hips. There was a large stain on the front, an old blood patch from when a man had been beaten and Peter’s desperate attempts to help ended with him covered in blood and most of his clothes taken as evidence by the police. His outfit was pitiful, no wonder Bucky had suggested a shower. Between the clothes and the layer of grime he must have looked like an orphan child from a Charles Dickens novel.

Being naked in a stranger’s house was nothing short of strange, even for something as innocent as a shower. That was until the shower washed away everything but positive, floaty thoughts and feelings. The stall had glass that had been fogged in such a way that it almost looked like a wall of opalescent stones, all carefully pieces together until no gaps remained. The tile was a shade of pink so light that Peter wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t merely a trick of the light. He felt near boneless under the spray and started to wonder if this is what a shower in heaven would look like. The hot water seemed to pull all the impurities, physical or not, from his body. Ushered them down the drain as black, torrid ink. 

The knock on the door was unwelcome but expected. Bucky let himself in. Peter watched as a black shadow moved just behind the door. Like an evil spirit, a demon, just beyond the gates of heaven. Or an angel arriving home. 

“I got you a pair of shorts and a tshirt. The shorts are too small for me. They’ll still probably be a bit big for you but at least you won’t drown in these. Plus the shirt will cover anything the shorts don’t catch,” Bucky broke the silence, shuffling around. “I’ll-“ Bucky fell quiet, something in the air… shifted. 

“What were you saying?” Peter pulled himself under the spray, trying to ward off the chilling aura.

“Peter,” The way Bucky said his name, it was painfully gentle. “Why is there blood on your clothes?” A barely contained bite to the edge of the comment, still sharp but not cutting. 

Peter feared Bucky believed him to be harming others, didn’t know how to explain that body fluids, blood and urine especially, were common on the streets. “The big one on my underwear is from trying to help someone who was injured. It happened about a year ago.” Hoped that was enough, didn’t want to relive that moment.

It was as if the very house itself sighed. As quickly as the tension came it fled. Ran to opposite corners of the house and out windows, through walls. Peter didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

“That's fine then. I was worried you’d gotten hurt. I’ll get you some boxers.” 

“Oh you don’t have to-“ Bucky was already gone. Left Peter to shower a minute more before he returned and left the boxers without much fanfare. Once again Peter was left to his own devices. He finished off by scrubbing out his hair, used a small amount no bigger than a quarter of the shampoo and conditioner. Wondered if his curls would come in full force now that they weren’t weighed down by dirt and oil. 

He turned the water off and toweled down as best he could. He picked up the boxers, just a simple black pair that was certainly too big for him but the elastic had a shot of at least holding onto his bony hips. He’d worn other people’s clothes before but not their underwear. It was clearly clean, but some part of his brain kept pinging that detail. It was either this or going commando though and Peter was far more opposed to the latter. He put them on along with the shorts and shirt. The shorts reached down to his calves and needed to be tied up snug to stay on but they worked. The shirt was a plain black and fell just above his knees. It forced Peter once again to acknowledge the vast size difference between them. Peter was having a hard time believing just how big Bucky was. He could see it clearly with his own two eyes and it still didn’t seem like it was possible for someone to be as tall and densely muscled as Bucky. Bucky’s body wasn’t for show, it was built for strength. His muscles weren’t disproportionate and veiny like a body builder’s. Instead, he came off more as a wall, sturdy and capable.

His old clothes were gone, swept away and likely beyond salvaging. He hoped Bucky sent him off with something to cover up with tomorrow before taking him back to the city. He was about to leave the bathroom when he noticed the obsidian knife resting on the counter. Bucky had removed it from his pants and set it back out for him. Peter picked it up, amazed by the dedication to trying to make Peter feel safe. His only defense could have easily been swept away without him noticing or thinking about it until it was too late. He almost wanted to leave it behind, show Bucky he trusted hi-

A knock at the door. “Peter, I’m making hot cocoa, want some?” Slightly muffled by the slab of wood between them. 

Peter opened the door wide. Taken aback by the tender look Bucky gives him. Watched it fall back to something more neutral, friendly. Stuttered as he spoke. “I-uh yea-, sure.” God, he hoped he could sink into the floor. 

Bucky smiled, affection already having found a home in the looks he gave Peter. “Alright sweetheart, follow me and we’ll whip something up.”

Peter obeyed, the knife forgotten as he was drawn away by Bucky’s gentle demeanor. The kitchen Bucky took him to was new. All the appliances were up to date, cabinets still holding the sheen of new paint, new tile and countertops. It was modern compared to the usual set up for the style of house. A rack hung above an island that copper pots and pans hung from, chained to the ceiling by black iron hooks. The kitchen island was topped with wood, making it into a giant cutting board if one wished to use it that way. Two wooden stools were tucked under it. Bucky pulled one of them out for Peter to sit on as he went to the stove, a pot of steaming milk already resting there. There were two mugs set out filled with mix. One cup was bigger than the other, meant for hands much larger than Peter’s. Bucky poured the steaming milk into each, stuck a spoon in both and stirred. Just as Peter thought, Bucky took the larger mug. It looked normal in his hands, just another coffee mug. 

“Here you go, doll.” Bucky set the other one in front of him. 

“Thank you,” Peter took a sip, was surprised by how rich it was. Drank more, doing his best not to burn his mouth in the process. The whole cup gone in under a minute. 

Bucky chuckled, still nursing his own cup and pulling up the stool next to Peter. “Good?”

Peter let out a small gasp as he came up for air. Set the now empty cup on the island. “Really good. What brand was that?” 

Bucky hummed, sipped from his cup before answering. “I made the blend myself. Found most places didn’t make it the way I wanted it so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Wow, well you did a really good job. It was delicious.” 

He practically beamed. “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter nearly choked on his own spit, gave a few hardy coughs as Bucky reached over and thumped on his back. Felt dumb for it. Choked just because Bucky had said his name. 

“Don’t die on me now,” Teasing but concerned. “Like you alive a little too much for that.”

“I’m-” A round of coughs. “-okay.” He croaked out. 

“Mhm.” Bucky set his cup down and stood up. He took Peter’s mug to the sink, rinsed it, and filled it with water before handing it back to Peter. “Here.”

Peter took the water, sipped until the tingling passed and powered through the coughs that came in between. He was tired, didn’t know if it was the coughing or something else but he felt it now. Maybe it had been there for awhile, something he was just now noticing. 

“You look a bit tired.” 

He nodded, rubbed one eye and shook his head out like a dog, trying to ward off the sensation. 

“Why don’t we get you set up in the guest bedroom.” Bucky stood up. “Follow me.” Bucky abandoned his cup as he started walking. Peter slipped off the stool and followed behind. 

The rest of the house felt… cool. Like a house with it’s blinds closed on a hot summer day. It was an opposite comfort to the way a warm house felt. The crisp chill made him feel comfortable in his skin, like it wasn’t drawn tight by heat and anxiety. 

Bucky led him up the stairs, was patient as Peter took his time getting up. It didn’t hurt but it was something he needed to take his time on. Once at the top he was guided down the stretch of hall. It was only four doors. All were closed except the bathroom, which Bucky pointed out as they went. At the end of the hallway were two doors next to each other, the small line of wall between them indented and creating a sort of ‘Y’ look. Bucky pointed to the door on the left. 

“That one is my room,” He switched to the door on the right. “That one is yours.” Reached out and opened the door to reveal a room painted a mid-toned blue. Deep blue curtains covered the windows and that same coolness was present in this room. The bed was a full size, had a cozy looking quilt all laid out across it. The quilt was a deep maroon, contrasting the color theme of the room. There was a nightstand with a lamp and a dresser off next to the window. The walls had pictures of the ocean on them. Peter was sensing a theme. 

“If you need anything just come get me. If you can’t get out of bed for some reason knock on the wall. I’ll be able to hear you since the rooms share the one the bed is against.”

“Okay, thank you Bucky.” Peter looked at him, tried to convey just how important, how meaningful this was through his gaze and simple words. 

“Of course, Peter.” One of those massive hands reached out towards him and cupped his cheek gently. Peter nearly crumbled into pieces. “Anything you need, anytime. Just say the word.”

Peter refused to tear up, gave one firm nod before Bucky pulled away to let him lay down. He wanted to follow, didn’t want Bucky to go but stayed where he was. Watched as Bucky disappeared, closing the door with a click!

He crawled into bed without much fanfare. Curled up under the covers and sighed as the long forgotten feeling of clean sheets slid across his skin, drawing him down into the lazy waves of sleep. Dreamed of grey eyes and trust and warm chocolate and longing. Got to experience more of those precious human comforts. 

In the end, it was nothing more than a precursory apology for what was to come as Peter woke up in a sea of his own unending vomit.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 13: Hurt

Chapter Summary: Steve gets hurt and everybody else has to deal with the fallout. Jerk.

Chapter Word Count: 5197

A/N: I know what the next chapter is going to be and we are continuing our trajectory for ~softness~

    I was sitting in bed on a beautifully lazy Saturday morning when my phone rang. I glanced over, expecting to have to tell Steve that I wouldn’t be putting on real pants for anything short of the end of the world and he had to come over or nothing, but it was Sam’s name that showed up on the screen.

“Hi Sam,” I answered and paused my game.

“Hey. I’m sorry to call you like this, but I need to tell you– Steve’s fine now, but he got hurt pretty bad.”

I put down the controller and felt a cold something creep through my body. “How bad?”

“He’ll recover just fine,” Sam said. “But some of his injuries–” He inhaled sharply and I gripped my comforter so hard my hand hurt. “Last I heard, he was still in a medically induced coma, but they were planning to take him out of it soon. It’s actually kind of a good thing though; he was hurting really bad and nothing they did was helping.”

“Because pain meds don’t do shit for him,” I said and held my face. How bad was that bad?

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding regretful. “I had to get back to DC so I couldn’t stay, but he was doing a lot better when I left. Stable, and on his way to healing up. He’s going to be okay.”

Sure, right, yeah; aside from maybe almost dying before I knew anything about it. Not that I was important enough to know– I was just a friend– but… “Do you think they’d let me visit?”

“I think so. There are SHIELD agents keeping watch but…have you met Natasha yet?”

“No. I’ve met Pepper?”

“She might be able to help if you need it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

Me too, but that was selfish. “Don’t worry Sam, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for letting me know.” I looked at my closet. “Fair warning though– when he’s out of the woods and I stop being freaked out, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Nat has dibs I think. He was covering her from an explosion.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if she doesn’t do a good enough job, I’ve got second dibs.”

“I’m not contesting that,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. I’m sleeping on my feet.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take a nap.”

“Sam.”

“I’ll be fine when I get a chance to sleep for three days. And I’m going to, I promise you that.”

I didn’t have time to nag. “You better. Bye Sam.” As soon as I hung up I jumped out of bed, put on real pants, grabbed some essentials, and bolted out the door so fast I got halfway down the hall before I realized I had to go back and lock it.

I spent the whole trip there panicking and trying not to panic. Sam said he was going to be fine, so Steve was fine, right? But he was in a hospital, and what kinds of injuries could keep Steve in a medically induced coma? The guy fought aliens and broke bones that healed in half the time and once stubbed his toe on the doorframe and didn’t even flinch.

I tried really hard to think about stubbed toes and slammed elbows rather than the myriad reasons one would be admitted to a hospital. Those thoughts carried me into the building, to the map where I could find his wing, and over and into said wing, up until I almost ran into someone. I pulled back to get around them. “I’m so sorry; I–”

They put themself right back in my path and I jerked back to see not just one but two very imposing, militarily inclined men. “Uhhhh….”

“This area is off-limits to unauthorized visitors,” one of them said.

Right; the SHIELD guys keeping watch. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers,” I said and told them my name in vain hopes I might be on a list or something.

The first guy, a sandy blond who looked like he wanted to drop-kick me out the window, shook his head. “Authorized personnel only. The Avengers probably have an address for fans to send well-wishes.”

Even though they had no reason to know who I was, I bristled at his snide tone. “I’m not a fan; I’m his friend.”

The other guy– dark hair, looked like a washed-up TV action star– snorted and he shared a look with the other guy that very clearly said what they thought of me.

“Ma’am,” Blond said. “Please leave or you will be escorted out.”

I felt sick. Steve was hurt and I couldn’t see him and the embarrassment of being seen as some sort of gross hanger-on was almost too much. Almost. I was too worried to be completely mortified, but I still had no recourse. They were dicks, but they were doing their jobs, and for the moment Steve was…safe. I turned, intending to text Pepper and wait in the cafeteria until she could help me (and maybe get a dusty bagel to help soak up the misery), when I almost smacked right into Tony Stark.

What a day.

“I’m– sorry,” I said lamely and moved aside to get around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I sighed and told him my name. “I’m a fr–”

“You’re Cap’s little lunch friend,” he said. He knew who I was? Stark waved a hand. “Pepper and Rogers have mentioned you. Well, Pepper mentioned; it feels like Cap brings you up all the time. You going in to visit?”

“I was going to, but–”

“Chickened out?”

“Not allowed, apparently,” I said and jabbed my thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. At least the assholes pretended to be more professional then and stopped snickering, but even Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) peering expectantly at them from the top of designer sunglasses just made knockoff-Stallone shake his head.

“No unauthorized visitors allowed,” he repeated.

“Oh come on; what’s Cap going to say when he finds out you chased off his BFF?”

They looked at me like they still didn’t believe it for a second. Blond said, “I’m sure Captain Rogers will understand we’re just doing our jobs.”

The worst part was that they were right, damn it.

“What does she need? A note from home?” Stark waved his hand. “I can write one; who has paper. We still do paper sometimes, right?”

“She needs proper authorization,” the guy on the right sneered.

“Consider this authorization.”

We all jumped at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit, whose calm smile made him look like the dictionary definition of ‘mild mannered.’ The two guards, however, stood very rigidly at attention. “Sir.”

The new man said my name and extended his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself properly. “I’m sorry but– am I allowed to–”

“You can visit Captain Rogers whenever you like,” Phil Coulson said and looked right at the guards. “Understood?”

“Yes sir,” they said, much less enthusiastically than their initial acknowledgement to him.

“Not that Captain Unblemished is going to be here that long, but hey.” I suddenly had a small bouquet of flowers in my hands, thanks to Tony Stark. “Since you’re allowed all-access now, can you give these to Cap? I’ve got things to do.”

“Uhh, sur–”

“Thanks, nice meeting you, etcetera et al,” Stark said and left with a dramatic turn.

Somehow I had imagined a little more mocking, maybe a few accusatory points about me ruining some of his fun in poking at Steve, but the guy seemed…annoyed. And not necessarily with me. I turned my head to Coulson, who only shook his. “This last assignment got…complicated,” he said and opened his arm towards the hall. Understatement, but at least I was finally going to get to see Steve. The two…gentlemen…parted, and my second savior (wait until I told Steve who the first was) walked with me.

“He’s right in here,” Phil– Coulson– Phil Coulson said, standing next to an open door with no room number. The inside was very dimly lit, and the curtain drawn halfway over the door blocked the bed from sight, but I felt less like a tension rod.

“Thank you, Mr. Coulson,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused problems.”

“It was no problem for me, and there won’t be more for you,” he said like it was a promise. “And please, Phil is fine. I was on my way out earlier and I’m afraid I still have to go, but it was nice to finally meet you. Hopefully next time we’ll see each other under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, next time. Thank you,” I said and stepped in.

It was so quiet, and mostly dark, aside from a single light off in the corner. Steve was very still in the bed, bruised and bandaged, but I could see his chest moving. He looked roughed up, but he didn’t look comatose. He didn’t even look like he had come close to death. He just looked like he was sleeping.

I set the flowers down on the nearest flat surface and walked slowly, quietly, to the chair next to his bedside, and perched on the edge of it. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I should stay– he was sleeping; was this creepy?– but the more I looked at him the more I settled in. One of his arms was completely wrapped up; there was a bruise on his jaw, closer to his neck than his chin; a strip of stitches on his neck; one, two, three, four, five scratches that I could see, plus a patch of skin that was raw, like it had rubbed against concrete. He didn’t look as bad as I’d expected him to, which I assumed meant all the terrible things had happened on the inside.

But he was breathing. He wasn’t even on oxygen; nothing about the machines around him said he was in dire straits. With a little bit of makeup he could have looked like a hospital patient in a Hallmark movie, ready to wake up and be released at any moment.

But he had been hurt. He had been hurt badly enough that it was a blessing he had been out for the healing process. I didn’t know why I hated that idea so viscerally, but it made me want to punch something.

I sighed. A small tuft of hair hung at a weird angle over his forehead and I brushed it back into place. Then, just to reassure myself, I let my hand hover over his mouth and felt a warm, steady pulse of air.

“They took him out of it earlier.”

I jumped so hard I hit my feet and had to windmill so as not to crash into one of the monitors. Miraculously, I didn’t knock anything over or otherwise make a lot of noise, and Steve didn’t show any signs of waking. Once I was done with my quiet heart attack, I turned to face the woman standing at the end of the bed. She had red hair and eyes sharp enough to cut. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was.

“Uh…hi,” I said and forced my hand down, away from my heart and to my side. I told her my name and waited for her to finish looking me over.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she said.

Yup. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Steve says a lot of good things.”

She barked a laugh. “Did Rogers pay you to say that?”

That was surprisingly harsh, so I kept quiet. I was batting a thousand today. But she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.” She straightened out and looked completely composed. Neat trick. “It’s been a long week.”

“I bet,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She moved her eyes to Steve and frowned. “Annoyed, but that’s not fatal.”

“Yeah, I’d have been dead a long time ago if it was,” I said and shrugged. “But I also would have taken a few jerks out with me, so…win some, lose some, I guess.”

She made a small noise that was neither this way nor that and I shut my mouth before I could embarrass myself further. She walked around to his other side. “Who called you?”

“Sam.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not…exactly,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her because I wasn’t sure her current sense of humor would allow for me to fake-threaten our mutual friend, but she looked at me so hard I got my bank information and social security number ready to go just in case she wanted them. “I got upset and made a joke about having dibs on kicking Steve’s ass when he’s better. Sam said actually you had it first since Steve was covering you in some explosion?”

Her lips pressed tight for a moment as she stared at Steve. “He didn’t have to.”

“But he’ll probably argue it when he gets up.” I looked at him. “He’s a jerk like that.”

“Yes. He really is,” Natasha said. She started to reach for him, but then abruptly stepped back. “I’m– I can’t deal with him yet.” She started to leave, but stopped at the edge of the curtain. “Are you staying for a while?”

“I think so.” I pulled out my book to show her and set it on my lap. “I don’t really have much else to do today.”

She nodded curtly. “Good. The rest of us do, but Steve…he doesn’t have the best reaction to waking up in medical. It’ll be better if he has a friend.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone having a great reaction to waking up alone, in a hospital, after almost dyi– “I’m on it,” I said before I could delve too deep into those thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said with a brief burst of warmth that almost made her seem like someone else. Then she was back to being aloof. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t even have time to say “Bye” before the curtain swooshed behind her and settled into place like she was never there.

~

It was a couple of hours before Steve began to stir, and I had only left my seat to stand up and stretch a few times. I didn’t know he was awake at first, until I saw part of the pillow shift, and I put my book on my lap to find him staring at me. Drowsily, but definitely staring.

“Hi.” He squinted and frowned. “Am I dreaming?”

I snorted and put my bookmark in before I set the book on the table. “No. I’m pretty sure your subconscious isn’t that mean to make my face the first one you see.”

He frowned deeper. “My subconscious definitely isn’t that mean to you.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” I leaned in closer. We were both quiet, and I was content to stay that way. “I’ve been looking up photos and your teammates are pretty. I mean, Sam alone would be a good sight.”

“Sam is very handsome,” he agreed so easily it made me smile. “But it’s not so bad to wake up to you. Not bad at all.”

“Do they have you on pain meds?” I asked.

He shrugged, and winced as he did so. “Doubt I could tell if they did. I don’t hurt as much anymore, though.”

“Good. That’s good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you're okay.”

He got a small smile. “Soft.”

“Only right now. You scared the shit out of me.”

Steve lost his smile and opened his eyes wider. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just…” It felt like my throat swelled, so I took a second to try and compose myself.

But Steve was alert now and sat up. “Hey, no; come here.”

I didn’t quite know what he meant, until I saw his arms open and, well, why not. I couldn’t help but glance at the door but there was no new noise and nobody I could see, and I leaned in to hug him as gently as I could. He wrapped his arms around me, warm and breathing and feeling like normal. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You scared a lot of people,” I said and stayed there until his grip loosened and I could pull back. “But since I’m selfish, yeah; mostly me.”

He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m glad; I…I guess maybe it’s weird for you that I’m here–”

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s definitely not. I’m just sorry I upset you.”

“It’s an upsetting thing.” I shrugged. “Emotions. They kind of suck.”

“Sometimes,” he said. Someone knocked on the door and we both looked when someone came in. I winced as the lights were turned on, but I suddenly realized Steve had still been holding my hand up until that point, when he released it to rub his eyes.

“Oh, sorry Captain,” the doctor said and she smiled at me. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

“Oh, hi Dr. Sherazi,” Steve said, sounding a little brighter. He introduced me to her and we shook hands. I was getting a little tired by all the new people, but I tried not to let it show too much. Steve was worse off; I could be okay for him.

“When I said don’t be a stranger this isn’t quite what I meant,” she said and started checking monitors. When she turned to me, face already expressing apologies, I knew what was coming and I looked at Steve.

“Go home.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be okay.”

And I didn’t hide myself that well, apparently, because he gave me a Look that said he knew I’d rather be gone. I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to call Sam and after that I’ll probably be besieged by people wanting to yell at me.” He cringed. “I…don’t want anyone to see that, really.”

I nodded because I didn’t want to be obnoxious, but after I packed up I asked him, “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow? I don’t– I don’t have any plans, really; but it’s okay if you don’t…”

“I’d like that,” he said and opened one arm. I hugged him one more time and took a real breath for the first time since that phone call.

~

The next day I pre-planned my morning and set off with a few extra supplies. I stopped by a pastry shop on the way and stood in a long line to get a drink for me, fill a thermos for Steve, and buy a few treats which I shoved in my bag with his tightly-lidded coffee. When I got to the hallway and saw the same two guards I braced myself, but they looked resigned when they saw me.

“We apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday,” the dark-hair one said and his partner muttered something similar. “And for our reactions; it was uncalled for.”

I tried to smile as brightly as I could. “It’s okay; I can be a bitch sometimes too so, hey, kindred spirits,” I joked.

He frowned. Deeply. My smile fell. “It was a– I was just kidding; I meant–” I sighed and gave up when his face didn’t change. “I’m sorry,” I said and left.

Steve looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I came in and threw the curtain back into place behind me. “Even when I try to be nice I fucking suck at it,” I said and dumped my bag on the chair.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve chuckled and put his fork down. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth and stopped. He looked normal, healthy, but he was still in a hospital bed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and put my drink on the side table so I could rifle through my bag. “Here,” I said and handed him the thermos.

“You're my favorite,” he said fervently and took it.

That made me smile again. Pretty big, too. “Also here,” I said and put the two white bags on his tray. “This place didn’t have strawberry so I got you a chocolate and a plain croissant.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he said and pushed the hospital’s plates aside so he could dig in.

“Yeah, yeah; eat it before someone else walks in. I didn’t bring enough to share.” I was the best. My smile was almost painful, but luckily Steve was too distracted to notice while I wrestled it under control. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The burns are gone.” He held up his arm to show me skin instead of gauze.

“I guess you’re not going to be the mummy for Halloween.”

“No, but I could be Frankenstein’s monster maybe.” He extended his neck to show me the scar where his stitches had been.

“Tch.” I sat back. “It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Like nothing ever happened,” he quipped, too lightly, but that was an issue I didn’t know how to tackle.

“Except for my new blood pressure medication from the heart attack you gave me.”

“Were you that worried?” he asked jokingly.

“Yes,” I said. He went silent and stopped eating. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with actual concern.”

“I could learn,” Steve said with a softer smile.

“You’ll need to with friends like yours,” I said. “They were all pretty worried.”

He shrugged. “Most.”

Maybe– I hadn’t met all of them– but I was pretty sure I knew who he meant. “I don’t think I would have been allowed in without Tony Stark’s help when he came to visit,” I said. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are some SHIELD guys making sure not just anybody can come in and some random chick claiming to be your friend naturally didn’t make the cut. But when I was about to leave, Tony Stark came up on his way in and made it a thing until Phil Coulson came by and said I could be here.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I’ll have to thank Tony.”

“Me too, but I’m trying to figure out how,” I said. “I’m thinking the cheesiest fucking card I can find but I don’t think he’d get that I’m joking. That would be awkward.”

Steve smiled. He was about to say something but I caught sight of the book in his lap and I jerked to attention as I suddenly remembered. “I brought you books!” I said and got them out to hand to him. “Just in case you get bored. I almost forgot.”

“Thank you,” he said, laughing, and set them aside. “Did you ‘just remember’ because you know I was going to say something sincere?”

Huh. “No, but wow, I got lucky.”

“Steve, you’ve got to get some friends that aren’t emotionally constipated.”

We both looked to the doorway to see a man with two butterfly bandages on his cheek, a smudge of dirt on his throat (in blatant contrast to his obviously recently washed hair), and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The price sticker was still on the cellophane wrapping and I snorted at the sight. Perfectly coifed spies and billionaires were something else. This guy was an unmistakable disaster. I could handle that.

“But then how would he relate?” I asked as the man came over to give Steve a hug and place his flowers next to the set from Tony Stark.

“I’m way better with my emotions than you are,” Steve said, looking at me as his friend stood up.

“That’s like saying you’re taller than the ground,” I said. His friend laughed and I…took a little pride in that; sue me. Steve then introduced me to Clint Barton.

“Hawkeye,” Clint said and grinned wolfishly. “But if you don’t know who Captain America is then I’ve got no chance.”

I glared at Steve. “You told people about that?”

“It’s funny,” he said, his smirk nearly matching Clint’s grin for deviousness alone.

But Clint’s face fell when he sniffed the air. “Hey,” he said. “It smells like chocolate in here.”

“She brought me a chocolate croissant,” Steve said.

“Aw.” Clint deflated.

“Yeah, it’s all gone. Sorry,” Steve said.

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully.

Clint looked at me and jerked his thumb in Steve’s direction. “This guy.”

“Yup, he’s an asshole,” I agreed. I looked at Steve. “But for some reason we like him anyway.”

“For some reason.”

Natasha was apparently the queen of sneaky entrances, but I didn’t jump this time. She was a little steely, until she saw me looking, and then she gave me a real smile and greeted me with a hello.

Maybe she was like a shark waiting to bite, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I smiled back. “Hello Natasha.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m all right. You?”

“I’m much better, thank you.”

“I don’t like this,” Clint said, creeping towards the door.

“You two have…met?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. Smart.

“Briefly,” Natasha said.

She and Steve stared each other down and I looked around but Clint was gone. Oh. I looked at them. “Should I leave?”

Steve opened his mouth. “Please,” Natasha said politely, without looking at me. “We won’t be long.”

“Okay.” I stood up and left my bag at the chair, but I hesitated. However the way they looked at each other– Natasha ready to strike and Steve ready to defend– made this completely out of my league. I slipped out the door and shut it behind me.

“Oh geeze,” Clint said.

I sighed and stared at the door. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t necessarily good. “I can’t believe I was so worried about him almost dying only to lose him like this. Unfair.”

Clint patted my shoulder consolingly.

But only a couple of minutes passed before Natasha opened the door, and she wasn’t covered in blood. That seemed like a good sign. Then again, strangling someone wouldn’t cause a whole lot of blood loss. I couldn’t help but peek in first and Clint did the same, but while Steve looked a little stunned, he was still alive.

“Wow,” I said and went back to my seat.

“I have excellent self-restraint,” she said and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “At least we finally got to meet you.” Her tone dipped into teasing. “Steve has been so sly, stealing away all the time for his lunch dates.”

Steve turned red and ducked down. “Come on, Nat.”

“Not very sneaky are you?” I said, even though it was true.

“No, he really isn’t.” Natasha’s lips were tinged with amusement. “But I hear you’re pretty direct yourself.”

I shrugged. “Guilty.” I looked elsewhere. “I don’t have the best filter.”

“You’re fine,” Steve said.

Maybe, but most likely not really. He was probably just being nice to me because I had fallen to pieces the day before. I cleared my throat and sat back when I realized I was leaning close to Steve. I could do this; I could make nice with his friends. I hoped. “By the way Natasha, thanks for that photo of Steve chucking Sam into the water. It’s my desktop background.”

“It’s what?!”

I ignored Steve and so did Natasha, but Clint laughed. Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you appreciated it. It is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.”

I realized something then and dared to get my hopes up. “Steve. Surfing. Is there video?”

“Of course” and “Of course not” came in unison from Natasha and Steve respectively, and he whipped his head in her direction so fast I heard his neck crack.

“Natasha,” he pleaded.

“That’s very valuable blackmail though,” she told me. “I have stories that would unseat politicians I’d charge less for.”

“How much to peek at stills?”

“I’m sure your job is lovely, but it’s still probably more than you make.”

“A recounting of the experience?”

“Hmm…how detailed?”

“I’ll take subject-verb-object at this point.”

“Steve surfed wave.” Her lips curled devilishly. “Wave surfed Steve.”

“Two sentences?” I gasped.

“Well, I like you,” she said.

“Hey Clint,” Steve said. “Do me a favor and tell the doc I want those experimental pain meds she was trying to talk me out of. Or just, anything that makes me unconscious so I don’t have to hear Nat get sweet-talked into giving up that video.”

“Wow, you really do believe in me,” I said. “It’s okay though, my imagination can take it from here.”

Steve’s mouth screwed downwards. “I have no friends. Everyone I love is dead to me.” He looked thoughtful. “Or dead.”

That was so delightfully dark it shocked me into laughter, and Clint too by the sound of it. Natasha, however, punched him so hard he actually said “Ow!” and rubbed his arm.

I stayed with them for a couple of hours, until my patience began to fray and I started checking the clock. Not that Natasha and Clint weren't great (I might have fallen a little in love with her when she made a “Die Hard” joke so wonderfully dumb that Clint got caught up in a groan while he laughed) but I was just…getting tired. Before I could attempt some pathetic excuse, though, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

Pepper: You might want to warn Steve that Tony is on his way.

“Oh boy,” I said and fired off a quick ‘thanks.’ When I looked up they were all staring at me, and I looked at Steve to get my grounding. “Pepper just said Tony Stark’s on his way.”

“‘Oh boy’ is right.” Steve grimaced. “You should probably go before he gets here.”

I hesitated, because that seemed a little crappy, however…I knew my limits. “Yeah, I– I don’t think I have the energy for him.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha took a seat. “We’ll supervise.”

“Aww,” Clint said, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. How someone could lean almost 180 degrees in a chair that was very solidly 90 degrees (if not less) and even pretend to look comfortable I had no idea, but more power to him.

I packed up and stopped to hug Steve. He held me a little longer than I expected. “Don’t worry; I’ll be out by tonight,” he said and let go. “And as soon as I’m done with debriefs, I’ll let you know. I still owe you lunch.”

“So you better stick around.” I stood. “I’ll collect. Someday.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that one,” he said.

I held my heart and looked in Clint and Natasha’s direction. “He’s learning.”

I got a pillow to the face, but Natasha got a new cushion. And while Steve may have been annoyed…he was okay. And he was going to continue to be okay.

Win-win.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Devil in Disguise, Pt. 2

Dean Winchester x Reader

Part 1

Summary: Dean’s on the run from escaping a prison where a job went south. Sam is in the wind. With nowhere to go and an injured leg, Dean takes refuge in the only place he could find—an old remote cabin. Normally empty for long stretches, Dean happens to stumble in the same day that the cabin’s owner returns. After a rocky first encounter, Dean comes to believe that a distant connection they share could be the thing that saves his life and gets him back to Sam. But will it happen before Y/N’s finance, a prison guard at Green River, finds the secret she’s hiding in the woods?

A/N: The fic was inspired by the song “The Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. This is part 2 of ?? written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Set around S2 (Folson Prison Blues). New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

Warnings: (Part One): Language, Mild angst, Hints of abuse 

WC: 4.9K

*Banner created by me. I do not own any of these pictures.

[Y/N] stood at the foot of the bed and examined her handiwork of cleaning and properly bandaging Dean’s wound. All the while thinking about the “BOLO” that came over the CB. Sure this stranger said he knew Deacon, but did he? Was he really who he said he was? Her eyes flickered from the fevered man in the bed to the task she was currently taking on, trying to figure out what her instincts were telling her. When she was satisfied, she moved around the room, cleaning up the leftovers from the bandages, along with the jumpsuit and discarded them in a big black trash bag. Leaving it in the corner of the room, she returned to the foot post, and leaned on it, wrapping both hands tightly around the frame. 

“Ok, you're patched up, you’ve got penicillin and soup is on the stove. Time to tell me a story, Dean. What was the job at the prison?” 

Dean used the strength in his upper arms to sit up straighter on the bed and watched her curiously for a beat before speaking. She wished she could read his thoughts and know exactly what he was considering, but all she could hope for would be his full cooperation and the complete truth.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked simply, and leaned back against the old, wrought iron bedpost. 

Her eyes snapped up quickly. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean Casper the friendly, either. I’m talking about vengeful ones. Ones that use their anger to kill people.”

[Y/N] felt her throat run dry and was grateful she was already holding onto the iron arch of the frame. “Yeah,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I believe in ‘em.”

“That makes this easier…” he mumbled to himself before continuing, “but the truth is, doesn’t matter if you believe. Because they’re real. So are vampires, werewolves, demons… all the nasty, vile monsters you can think of… all real and the prison had one that was killing inmates. Deacon called on us to help get rid of it.”

“Deacon… of course,” she whispered almost incoherently and expelled a long, slow breath. 

“You never did say how you knew him,” Dean said, and shrugged defensively when her gaze snapped back at him, flashing a warning not press his luck. “Just sayin’...”

“I’ve known Deacon since I was a kid. He used to come to my dad’s church.” There was so much more to it, but she wasn’t ready to share all her intel. “So, continue… ghost in the prison…”

“Right, so, Deacon called us in to figure out who it was. He thought we could get more info as prisoners then he ever would as the warden. The spook was going after his guys, he had to do something.”

“But you must have done something to get yourselves locked up. Deacon couldn’t just smuggle two people into Green River and pass them off as prisoners, warden or not. So, just breaking in somewhere was enough to get you thrown in prison? You were a little vague on the charges.”

“That’s… complicated and not relevant here. What is, is that we figured out who the ghost was, and Deacon was breaking us out to go--”

“Salt and burn…” she said, not meaning to interrupt but her blank expression and clouded eyes told Dean that she was suddenly lost a memory.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “How did you--are you a hunter?”

“Huh? What? No,” she stammered and pushed off the iron frame. “No, not a hunter, but I know what hunters are.”

“How?”

“Story for another time,” she said, waving him off. “Please. continue… how did you go from Deacon breaking you out, to bleeding in my cabin while pointing my own gun at me?”

“He opened a panel for us to escape through, was going to bring us out the rear exit. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and went out the wrong doors. Shit went sideways fast, had to improvise and we got separated. Sam took off in the direction of the cemetery where the body was buried and my only way out was the other direction. Spotlights caught me as I hit the tree line and got shot. Ran as far as I could… damn near through the night. Now here I am.”

[Y/N] just nodded slowly, as if she was trying to comprehend everything he was telling her. She began to pace the room, but not with any vigor. It was methodical and slow, each step seemed to be taken with a thoughtful purpose as she went over his story in her mind. 

“Who was it?” she asked finally, looking up to meet the pair of dull green eyes looking back. She had a moment where she wondered how they would actually shine when their owner was bogged down with fever because even as muted as they were, they were still beautiful.

“A nurse who died in a prison riot years ago. They started construction on an old wing of the unit, and it stirred her up.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] mused, then settled on the end of the bed, the opposite side of where Dean lay. She brought her knee up to rest on the mattress and twisted her body to face him. 

“And your brother… he took care of it?”

“I sure hope so. I’m hoping he found his way to the car and got over there. Kinda hard to check up on that, though.” He motioned towards his leg, his whole expression shrugging with a hint of exhausted sarcasm.

“What cemetery?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to check, that’s why. You may not be able to, but I can. I need to do a supply run to town anyway. So, which cemetery.”

“Uh… Green Valley, but… lady… I don’t think its a good idea. Our PD, if she was forced to talk, that place is gonna be swimming in uniforms.”

“It's fine. I have family buried there. I can always say I’m going to visit them. What was the nurses’ name?”

“Glockner,” Dean replied but shook his head as he did. “It's okay. I’m sure Sam got there to take care of it. Right now he’s probably free and clear and freaking out trying to figure out where I am.”

“[Y/N],” she spoke up softly. “My name is [Y/N].”

“Thanks for saving my ass, [Y/N],” Dean smiled, relieved.

“Thanks for not shooting me, Dean.”

Across the queen size bed, they shared a brief, yet slightly intense gaze before each of them broke away. [Y/N] found him intriguing, and without doubt, believed what he was telling her. Her instincts may have been quiet before, but after hearing what he had to say, and knowing what she knew about Deacon, [Y/N] knew that she could believe his story. Besides, with Dean’s confidence in the man’s voucher, she really felt that she could trust what he was saying. That made her want to do whatever she could to help him get better, and then get back to his brother. 

“Where can I find your brother?” she asked. “Where’s home? Would he go there?”

“Home is long gone. We never stay any place too long.”

“Damn. Then how do I find him?”

Dean thought for a minute. All their usual ways of communication after separation wouldn’t work. He figured Sam would have a new burner by now, but not like he could get the number. Any cop in a hundred-mile radius would be looking for the Impala, and even Deacon was most likely being watched like a hawk. 

“Right now, I don’t think we can. Let me fight off this bitch of an infection, and then when my head is clear, I can figure things out.”

“Okay,” she relented and went to stand from the bed. Before she reached the doorway that led to the kitchen, she turned and faced him one last time. “You can stay as long as you need to. Take this room. I’ll stay in the loft. But, Dean... “

“Yeah?”

“If you ever point my own gun, or any gun at me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you once I get it back.”

Twenty-four hours later, and Dean’s fever was still ragging. He was semi-aware of her sitting in the rocker placed in the corner for good stretches of the night, and when the sun peeked through the thin lace curtains it caused black spots to pulse behind his eyes. Somehow, [Y/N] could tell, and she moved to pull the heavier curtain closed.

Dean was also vaguely aware that she kept putting a cool cloth to his forehead and checked his leg a few times. At some point during the long night, he remembered wondering why she was going through all this instead of just getting on her CB and bringing the cops to her door.

Even with no clock present, when Dean finally came fully to consciousness, he could tell that it was sometime in the early afternoon. The birds weren’t as loud, and the brightness of the day had moved higher in the sky. He was able to push himself up to sitting, though it caused a burst of pain to ripple through his injured leg. 

“Sonofabitch!” Dean grunted through gritted teeth, as he tried to swing the leg off the bed. The motion of which caused a swirl of blurry vision, his head swimming in static and black spots again. “Nope,” he said to himself and moved his leg back to where it had been. 

Dean was still for a few minutes, making sure the pain evened out and that he wasn’t going to pass out again. Once he was sure he could focus, he listened closely to any sounds coming from out in the cabin. 

It was silent. But that’s when he noticed the folded scrap of paper sitting on the bedside that had his name written in a blunt, but feminine script.

Dean,

Making a supply run. Stay put. If you can manage to move, there’s cold water in the fridge. If not, there’s a room temp bottle and your meds by this note. Also a protein bar. See if you can choke that down. Be back soon.

[Y/N]

She had done as promised, and left the water bottle and pills behind the note, along with the protein bar. Dean felt himself smile despite his deteriorating condition. He made quick work of powering through the food, pills, and water, and then settled back onto the bed and closed his eyes. When they fluttered open again, the sun continued its descent into the sky, and when he peeked out of the curtains again, there was a soft twinge of pink and orange sky acting as a backdrop to the autumn colored trees. 

Noise from the kitchen snapped his attention back, and he instinctively reached under the pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. He had just enough time to register a slew of curses in his mind when the bedroom door opened and [Y/N] stood there with a tray, and a pleased smile on her lips. 

“Welcome back,” she smiled and moved over to the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the open side, then moving towards Dean to help prop him up. 

He waved her off and was able to get himself to sitting, but his eyes, not so dull anymore, watched her carefully. 

“Why are you doing all this? What do you get out of it?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity over her generous nature. 

“I don’t get anything out of it other than helping you not die. But I am doing this because I believe you,” she said, and delicately lifted the material of the sweatpants to check on his wound. “When I was ten, I thought I saw a ghost in my dad’s church.” She paused, and seemed satisfied with how the bandages looked, and carefully pulled the pant leg back down. She retrieved the tray, kicked open the legs on it and placed it carefully over Dean’s lap as she continued her story. 

“Scared the shit out of me, and of course, he didn’t believe me. People started getting hurt. Workers who were repainting the outside of the rectory… an old lady pushed down the stairs by some unseen force. Stuff like that.”

Dean nodded in understanding and made the attempt to eat the soup and crackers she brought him. 

“Anyway, after the maintenance guy died, that’s when things got even weirder.”

“Weirder how?”

“Deacon had been a member of the parish for as long as I can remember. Never really thought much of him except for he was a Marine and that he worked at the jail. Nice guy, always smiled at me on Sundays. One night, I was hiding in the pews, reading some crap I shouldn’t have been, and I heard Deacon and some guy with him, arguing with my dad. Something about needing to burn something. Whatever Deacon wanted… some kind of old jewelry that was kept in the church safe… Dad refused. I was scared because I distinctly remember that guy with Deacon saying that unless they did, the spirit wouldn’t rest and could eventually kill the preacher, or even his family.”

Dean’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Despite the fever that had been stifling much logical thought in the last day, he was able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That guy, what did he look like?”

“Why is that important?”

“It just is!” he snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry… can you just try and remember?”

[Y/N] closed her eyes and went back in her memories. “He was tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Not a beard exactly, but more than a few days beard, you know? He had these crazy dimples, too. I remember thinking they were as big as craters.”

“Holy shit,” Dean snorted in disbelief. “I think that was my dad. Was his name, John?” Her attention snapped back up and he could tell just by the look on her face that it was.

“Yeah, his name was John. He’s how I know what hunters are. That night, after my dad locked up, I stayed in the church. I was so scared of a ghost killing me that I went and stole the necklace from the safe. I rode my bike all the way to Deacon’s house and he was super pissed to see me there. Until I pulled it from my pocket…”

“Lemme guess... my dad snatched it from you and barked at you to go home?”

“Close, but not quite. I got to hear a snippet of their conversation, first. John said something about salting and burning the bones and that it didn’t work. The necklace had to be the link. Then he barked at me to go home.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I went home. Deacon and I never spoke of it again, but he always looked at me a little differently on Sundays. Almost like he was proud.”

“So, that’s why you believed me so easily. That talk doesn’t always go very smoothly for civilians.”

“Yeah well, guess you lucked out running into me then, huh?”

Dean exhaled steadily through slightly pursed lips and nodded. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

“I grabbed better meds for you in town this morning. Try and eat some and then you can take those. If that can bring your temperature down I think you’ll be alright. I checked your leg while you were sleeping, changed the bandages. You got lucky the bullet went clean through.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, really.”

“It’s nothing. Just eat and rest.” 

She turned to leave and Dean realized he didn’t want her too. He wanted her to stay and talk to him; he liked when she was around. Maybe it was because they had some sort of distant connection through Deacon, or maybe it was simply because of her. Most likely, it was just his fever making him not want to be alone. But right then, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay and sit beside him.

“[Y/N], wait... “ he paused, leaning forward from the pillows until she turned around and slowly brought her (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Would you stay? Keep me company, maybe?”

She paused at the door, her left hand slowly sliding down the old wood trim of the frame. Dean saw her body relax a little, and when she finally turned back around to face him, her features were softer than they had been before. He was struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful she was in the dim light of the room’s light. When she turned and went back to the rocker in the corner, then dragged it closer to the bed, Dean happily leaned back against the pillows, relieved she was staying and worked on consuming the food she brought him.

The next morning, Dean woke with his head clearer than it had been since getting shot in the first place. Overnight he had sweat straight through the shirt he had borrowed and would just about kill for a clean one; maybe even a shower.

[Y/N] knocked lightly on the door before opening it just enough to talk through. 

“Decent?” she asked and waited for a response before entering.

“Yeah, good,” Dean replied. Once she was in, he approached the idea of a shower. “So, what are the chances I’m healed enough to take a hot shower?”

“I doubt you could stand on that long enough without support of some kind.”

Dean groaned and rolled his head back. “Dammit. I feel like I’ve been slimed. Just, head to toe gross. You know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I could pull a kitchen chair into the bathroom, you could give yourself a sponge bath at least.”

Dean bit his tongue from replying with some half sarcastic, half flirtatious comment. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll set it up for you, then I was going to get a fire going. Wanted to see if maybe you wanted to venture from the room today. Seems like maybe your fever broke overnight. Getting up and moving around would be good for you; a little of it, anyway.”

“I’m all for it,” he smiled, genuinely excited for both the change of scenery and the chance to spend more time with her. 

“Great. We really need to figure out a plan here, too,” she said softly followed by a side-eyed glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. He even thought maybe, she looked a little disappointed. She wasn’t always the easiest person to read and he had only known her through fevered days so far. Despite all that, Dean could feel his sharp senses returning, and they were telling him this girl was one he could both count on and trust.

[Y/N] disappeared into the bathroom, and could be heard moving some things around, then reappeared. She seemed like she was about to speak when they both heard it. 

A running motor. The sound of a door being slammed closed. 

“Shit!”

Her eyes went wide with fear, and Dean felt his heart sink but his survival instinct kicked in. As quickly as he could move, he twisted his hips and let both legs fall to the floor. Standing quickly, a little too quickly, the wounded leg instantly buckled, but [Y/N] was right there to catch him. Dean slung an arm over her shoulders as she helped him limp across the floor.

“What? Do you know who it is?” he asked through the bolts of pain that coursed up his body from the sudden movement on his leg.

“Yeah, it could only be Derek,” she said, her stomach instantly going sour. 

“Derek?”

“My finance. Also, prison guard a Green River.”

“Well shit,” Dean huffed as she opened the bathroom door and nearly shoved him inside. “Talk about a coincidence.”

Ignoring his quip, she tried to think about what was her best course of action. “The linen closet is deep enough for you to stand in. Go in and shut the door. It can be locked from the inside. Lock it and not a sound,” she whispered desperately. 

Dean nodded and limped his way carefully to the linen closet. [Y/N] dashed about the room, cleaning up any remnants of the escapee’s presence and tossed it under the bed. Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling with fear; not just for Derek possibly discovering Dean, but for her own safety as well. 

Just as she finished hiding the evidence, and stepped into the kitchen, the front door to the cabin opened and the man she least wanted to see was making his entrance.

“You forget how to answer your phone all of a sudden?!” he barked, taking several hulking steps through the living room and into the kitchen.

“You know I don’t get service up here,” she replied calmly, an amazing feat given how badly she was shaking internally. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Derek snorted in exasperation. “Are you dumb?! Didn’t you hear the CB at least?”

[Y/N] refrained from responding harshly, knowing it would only set him off more. “I may have been outside. Or on a supply run. What’s so important that I have to know?”

“Prisoners escaped. Two of ‘em,” he replied and rubbed a hand over his face down to his beard, something he only did when he was frustrated. Letting his hand fall back at his side with a slap against his outer thigh. “Pack your shit, I came up here to bring you home. No reason that you need to be up here with two escapees on the loose and weather rollin’ in.” 

“Haven’t seen a sign of any escapees this far out,” she shrugged absently, going about unloading the extra supplies she had grabbed when she went to town earlier. This didn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

“Seems like quite the stockpile for one person for a weekend,” he grumbled, eyeing up the box of supplies on the table. “Might as well put them all back in, 'cause you’re leaving with me now.”

[Y/.N]’s head whipped around and up to meet Derek’s dark and brooding gaze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, it’s why I’m here. You didn’t answer, so I came to get you. This is no place for a girl to be, especially alone, with two escaped felons on the loose.”

Derek grabbed her arm roughly, but her quick reflexes kicked in before he could solidify his grip. 

“First off, I am not a girl, I am a perfectly capable woman. Second, don’t you ever grab me like that again. I warned you, Derek. I am not going to be some pushover you can boss around.”

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, she didn’t know if he would relent or go to grab her again, so she prepared herself just in case. Derek’s large frame relaxed as he backed off, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plopped down into it.

“What the Hell are you doin’ up here [Y/N]. Ain’t nothing up here for you but a bunch of cobwebs and bad memories. There are two escaped felons, and we ain’t talkin’ bout no drug charges or simple B ‘n E. They were in for murder… grave desecration. These are two really sick sons of bitches. Weather’s rollin’ in on top of it. Just seems dumb to be up here when it ain’t necessary.”

[Y/N] went back to unpacking her supplies midway through his exasperated rant. Doing her best to ignore the word murder, she did her best to focus on the supplies and ignore Derek’s concentrated gazed watching her every move. 

“But yet, you’re still unpackin’. Do I gotta call your daddy? Get him up here to put you in your place?” Derek asked his questions and averted his eyes, keeping them transfixed on the side of the box before slowly bringing them back up to see the fear he had hoped to see on her face. When there wasn’t a trace of it, his brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. “What? Preacher Steve doesn’t put the fear of God in you anymore?”

[Y/N] snorted a laugh and took out the last can of tomato paste before she finally turned back to give him her full attention. She leaned in, dangerously close to her fiance and knew that what she was about to say could earn her a pop in the mouth. But something about spending the last forty-eight hours with Dean Winchester had somehow instilled the ability to not give a fuck.

“Fuck. You,” she whispered, a slight, rueful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be back to town when I fucking feel like it. If you’re bored, Derek, call Rita from work. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. Now, get out.”

Her knowing glare unnerved Derek, making him shift uncomfortably. He waited another beat and stood from the old wooden chair that groaned gratefully as he removed his hefty size from its worn frame. He wanted to say something--drew in a breath to do just that--but the crackle of the radio he wore on his hip made him stop, and simply expel the air in a huff and reach for the walkie as the voice on the other end was unintelligible when mixed with the static of the shitty reception.

“I’ll go. But I won’t be gone long. When I come back,  you’re coming home.” As he went to leave, he was about to press the button to reply, but paused and turned back around. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, you pick up the damn CB and call me!”

Ignoring his command, she turned her back to him and started putting away the cans of food into the pantry. 

“Did you hear me?!” he bellowed, making her shoulders stiffen and a shiver at the sharpness of his tone run down her spine. 

“Yes, Derek,” she replied without turning around. Gripping the counter with white knuckles, she waited until she heard the slam of the front door before exhaling the breath she didn’t realize she was holding it. 

“Goddammit,” she whispered and let her head fall between her shoulders. The entire interaction left her feeling cold and lost in a place she hadn’t gone to in years. But now, thanks to the man she was supposed to be marrying, she was knee-deep in memories that clawed at her insides to come spilling out. 

[Y/N] didn’t hear Dean emerge from the bathroom, nor did she hear him limp his way across the bedroom, then out into the kitchen. She was so lost in the recesses of her early years on the Earth, that she didn’t even feel his presence until he was standing right behind her. She didn’t jump or scare, she simply looked up into his furrowed, curious brow, and kind green eyes, and laid her head against his chest. 

“You heard all that?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,”’  he rasped, “I heard. What I don’t get is why the Hell you would marry a douchebag like that.” 

“Long story, not one I particularly feel like telling at the moment.” She regrettably moved her head off his chest and caught his briefly caught his gaze. 

His eyes were slightly narrowed on her, his brow still showing lines of concern, and his full lips were set in a contemplative pout. She thought maybe the instinct to rest her head on him had soured him towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, feeling suddenly stupid and quickly busying herself with the task at hand. 

She saw Dean wobble from the corner of her eye and dropped the cans she was holding onto help steady him. He draped an arm around her shoulder and she when she helped him sit in one of the kitchen chairs, he passed her a grateful smile. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, wincing at the pain radiating from his leg. 

She crouched down and saw the fresh blood coming through the leg of his pants. “For… I don’t know… a moment of weakness I guess. One of your stitches popped,” she said changing the subject. “Sit tight. Let me get the first aid kit and patch this up. Then maybe I can wrap it and you can get that shower.”

[Y/N] started walking into the bedroom to retrieve the supplies that had been kicked under the bed in a rush when Dean reached out and caught her wrist. 

“Hey, you have nothing to say sorry for. Everything you’ve done for me…” he trailed off and shrugged, his expressive lips pushing up into a small, cocky smirk. “...least I can do is give you a place to lay your weary head.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. Despite his pallid complexion and current pain levels, Dean was flirting with her. Whether it was just to elicit a smile after the recent encounter with Derek, or because he was genuinely flirting, she didn’t know. Truth is, she didn’t care. She liked having him around and realized then and there that she would do whatever she had to in order to help him get better and get back to his brother.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss// @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[theflashfictioner]

Bad Blood part three

I was told there were grammar issues but never found all of them so please let me know what you see.

As always, credit to the lovely @randomfanders-blog for the amazing idea!! Lemme know what y'all think!

Working for the fastest man alive, you'd think that you'd have done more research for treatments, but not at all. It's just training on getting faster. And although that's the reason your dad swears you need him to stay safe, you wish you were let in more on the planning. You're 23 for crying out loud! You can't be kept in the dark forever, but you knew he had his cryptic reasons, as always.

Which is why walking into the room when Caitlin was scolding Cisco and Barry was your favourite way to start the day.

"Well I'm the eyes and ears and he's the feet," you heard Cisco lamely explain as Barry sped into the cortex in a flurry of papers.

"He shouldn't be running around like some supersonic fireman, Cisco," you piped in. "He could have gotten himself killed," you continue and sit in the chair next to Cisco.

Barry and Caitlin got into it, along with Dr. Wells, and you sat back quietly as they discussed restraint for the billionth time already. When Dr. Wells and Caitlin walked to the dashboard, Cisco stopped Barry.

"Hey, anything weird happen out there? Your vitals spiked."

"Never better," Barry said as he answered his phone and talked to Joe.

As he walked out of the cortex and to the police station, you laughed as Dr. Wells made a comment about Barry not taking his clothes.

"I can't tell you how much I would pay to see how he fixes that " you said, unable to stop laughing. Cisco shook his head and both Caitlin and Dr. Wells left as you kept chuckling and began to get to work. You did have a job after all.

A while later, Caitlin was scolding him after telling her about his fainting and dizziness, and you helped hook him up to everything, trying not to interrupt Caitlin. When Cisco commented on her anger from Ronnie, you all were talking about how you miss him. Cisco set him up with the tread mill, trying to figure everything out and you watched him pass out and hit the wall, laughing hysterically as he did.

"I'm sorry," you said between giggles, " it's just that this only happens in cartoons. It's so much funnier in real life."

Caitlin rolled her eyes and looked at you, "Can you calm down enough to help me get him to the medical room?"

You bit your lip and nodded as you worked together to carry him and set him on the hospital. Caitlin hooked him up to an IV bag, and you all thought the work was done, but it was gone in seconds, so you and Caitlin hooked up one after the other to keep up with his quickly depleting vitals, until bag 39 lasted a few minutes, and then bag 40 took the normal amount of time to drain into his system.

When he woke up and was informed of his condition,he started saying all he needed was an IV bag, and you bit back laughter as he saw the pole full of bags. Dr. Wells told him the number of bags he used, chuckling. Caitlin told him that she came up with a new diet, which Cisco put into the terms of tacos, and then left to add cheese and guacamole, which made you laugh as Joe came in and scolded Barry. Joe then getting on Dr. Wells for not keeping Barry safe, who then yelled back at Joe about how he needed to help since he couldn't help his Dad, who was in Jail.

"You think you're so smart. /All/ of you. But you dont know what you dont know and I hope that you're clever enough to figure it out before somebody gets killed," Joe said before walking out and you all fell into silence.

"Food for thought," you said and everyone turned to you. "How is he and the police gonna figure it out if the smartest people in the room can't? What can they do that we can't?"

Barry shrugged and ran out to go back to his day job. Dr. Wells came and sat next to you, and you sighed. " I know I shouldn't be so upset, but I can't help but be tired of his superiority complex; the way he had to make us feel like we aren't trying to keep him alive and that we want people killed, Dad. None of us want to keep him safe as much as you and I," you said.

"Y/N, dont worry about Joe. You and I will prove our worth and become part of the greatest story to ever be told. Now, why dont you cool off and go grab some lunch," he said and you nodded, heading out.

It was as you were grabbing your coffee from the barista at Jitters that you saw the news, and rushed back to STAR Labs to help when you could. You got there a little too late and walked in as Caitlin was patching up Barry.

"You got Blood on my suit," Cisco said as he worked with a miners lamp on his head.

Barry looked incredulously at him as he tersely replied that some it probably belonged to the not so friendly meta, and Dr. Wells threw up a portrait on the screen.

"Danton Black. Hes a bio geneticist specialized in therapeutic cloning. Growing new organs to replace failing ones."

"Apparently Stagg stole his research and fired him," said Caitlin, sympathy displaying on her face.

Realization Barry's face, "I saw Black create duplicates of himself."

Cisco laughed, "That's pretty ironic. The guy specialized in cloning and now he can make xeroxes of himself."

"If he was experimenting on himself when he was exposed to the dark matter wave during the particle accelerator explosion-" you started to say before Cisco cut in.

"Meet Captian Clone!" He said in awe.

Everyone looked at him and he cowered a little, saying he'd find something cooler.

Barry was heading out and Caitlin asked where he was going.

"Joe was right. I'm in way over my head. I can barely fight one meta human, let alone six."

"Barry!" Dr. Wells called, "I understand. Today was a setback, but any grand enterprise has them, and we can never learn to fly without crashing a few times."

His face is wrought with defeat as he retorts, "This wasn't a grand enterprise, Dr. Wells. This was a mistake."

Barry retreats backwards and all of you watch as he leaves, before turning to your dad who looked worried. He left and went away and you awkwardly sit down and try to fix the gnawing feeling in your gut at his words. You decide that it's wrong. Your dad was a good guy and just wanted the best, so you sigh deeply and get back to work.

*A little later*

Your dad had left to go talk to Dr. Stagg. You decide to take a walk to stretch your legs and walked around for a bit, stumbling onto this weird panelling that seemed different from the rest of the wall. Like there was something behind it, but as you went to touch it, your phone chimes. You see a text from your dad saying to make sure to stay in the cortex until Barry came back, so you hurriedly went back, glancing back at the door once more before it disappeared from your view as you made your way to the cortex.

As you walked up, you saw Danton Black, and you hid as he stared at Caitlin and Cisco menacingly. You quietly walked away and called your dad when you were far enough away, as you had heard Caitlin call Barry and knew she ans Cisco would be okay.

When your dad came in, you guys both took a look at him and noticed he wasn't moving. Strange, but as you kept talking to it, it didn't move. Once you had all realised it was only a clone, Barry rushed in and freaked out, before Caitlin clued him in on what everyone else already knew.

"How did you get it?" He asked with confusion colouring his tone.

"I grew him" she answered, before going on to describe the process which she'd done to get a homemade Danton Black.

"Why isn't he moving?"Barry asked as he waved his hand in front of Homemade, as you deemed to call him, yet again.

"Take a look at the brain scans, the motor functions are on but little else," you offered.

"We think its acting as a receiver," said Cisco.

"So how do I know which one is the real one?" Barry asked

"That occurred to given your own passing out. BLACK HAS LIMITS JUST LIKE YOU. CONTROLLING THAT MANy would be exhausting. Look for the one showing signs of weakness," Caitlin told him.

Dr. Wells shrugged and said, "Just a theory, but one you might want to put to the test."

Cisco walked over excitedly and handed Barry a bar as he explained the calorie contents of it. Then Homemade moved and Joe shot it causing Caitlin to scream. Joe gave Barry a pep talk to motivate him to go Stop Danton. You them moved to help clean up the dead body and go get rid of it. Your dad followed as you dragged him out and looked at you.

"Y/N, you need to run him as far as you can so that you can get rid of him without anyone knowing. Understand?"He ordered, gaze piercing through you.

"Yes, dad, will do." You grabbed him and ran off as everyone else took care of Barry through the fight. By the time you got back, the fight was over and Barry was back. You saw the news about Danton and your heart fluttered in the sorrow you felt. Cisco named him MultiPlex and you smiled a little as Barry gave a pep talk of his own about how everyone was a part of the fighting before he left. You then nodded to your dad and he knew you'd done what needed to be done before sitting down and sighing. Life was definitely different from what you thought it would be. Dad wheeled off and you sat with Caitlin and Cisco as Barry then headed to help with an armed car robbery.

Your dad told you he had an errand that night and that no matter what, you were to stay home and not leave. When he came home, he had a bloody knife and told you he did what history needed to be done. You felt a pit in your stomach but cleaned the knife and set it away, praying that you'd get some sleep tonight.

[spooky-scary-imagines]

Hi :) would you write one where ChopTop met the reader the the radio station along with Strech*idk if i spelled it right* but the reader dressed similar to him and was in a band herself makeing ChopTop love struck and just his stuttering getting worst and forgeting what to say witch the reader finds cute maybe it would get slightly nsfw to to the ebd but you can pick its ok if its just fluff :3 *sorry if its to long*

((Sorry this took so long! Gotta love my boy Chop-Top and this prompt not only gave me an excuse to rewatch his intro scene but it also seems super fun! It is a challenge to figure out dialogue for him tho because he’s so bizarre in all the best ways. This one didn’t end up being too romantic but I’ve been thinking about maybe writing a continuation for this just cause there’s so much more I can do with it. So let me know if any of y’all are interested! Tagging: @i-cant-get-with-it

Chop Top meets hippie s/o @ the radio station:

It’s been a pretty rough week at the station. Your good friend Vanita had gotten a terrible call-in the other day. Initially she thought it was a prank, as the men had been obnoxious all day, but even she couldn’t ignore the terrible screaming and shill grating of metal on metal. Not when she saw that article in the paper that seemed to match the call-in. She had told you about the plan she devised with some old sheriff, about playing the tape over the radio. To you it seemed like a bad idea and a great way to put a giant target on her back, but she was insistent that she had to do it and make a difference. Despite your worries, you couldn’t just leave her alone, so you decided to stay with her after that night’s broadcast.

Tonight had done nothing to ease your concerns, angry callers had been cursing out the station and since Stretch first aired the tape. L.G. seemed to be the most upset by it, talking about how much trouble Vanita was going to get into, though anyone with eyes could tell how soft he was on her. Sadly, it didn’t seem like the feelings were returned quite the same way. At least not yet, you thought, as you watched her turn down his offer to grab some coffee with him. Guess you two were sticking around for this “Lefty” guy.

Shortly after L.G. left, you heard the phone ring. You went to reach for it, but Stretch got there first. “Hello?…Hello?…Lefty?” You could guess from her side of the conversation that she was being met with silence. You raised an eyebrow and she looked at you, equally confused. The mysterious caller hung up. “What the hell was that all about?” you asked.

“No clue,” Stretch shrugged, “We get some weird callers sometimes, but-.” As if on a cue, you two heard a small slam from the other side of the station. Vanita’s eyes flicked to you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Stretch had been gone for a suspicious amount of time, when you decided you needed to go after her. You stood in the doorway of the hall leading to the lobby. From there, you could hear Stretch and a strange male voice, talking manically. “Hi, I know what you’re thinking. This is weird. Hope I can handle it.“ You peered out into the lobby, there you saw Vanita nervously backed against her desk, across from her was an odd man. He appeared to be in his 30s, dressed in patched and campy hippie clothes, the odd look topped off with a shappy mop of black hair and lavender Lennon specs. Though a somewhat tacky outfit, it reminded you of the way you and your bandmates dressed, especially when hanging out around at festivals. He started getting up and moving towards Stretch, and you walked out from the doorframe. Both sets of eyes looking your direction.

“Uhhh, hey man…what’s up?” you asked, awkwardly trying to redirect him. He turned to you, and looked you up and down, face unreadable.

“Wh-Who  the hell’re you? I thought it was j-just the DJ?”

“Well it isn’t space cadet! Who the hell are you?”

“I-I-I’m just a fan,” he turned back to Stretch, “Me and my little brother, Bubba, we listen to this show e-every night.” He turned back to you with a sick grin, “Music…is my life.”

You smiled at that, “Oh? I dig it. I’m in a band myself.”

His eyes went wide at that, and the barely contained manic energy in him seemed to ramp up, “O-Oh yeah? Wh-What’re you like? Something h-h-heavy? Like-like Iron Butterfly!”

You chuckled. Despite him being kind of a freaky-deaky dork, you had to admit the spaz was kind of endearing and a little cute. “Kinda. We’re more like Vanilla Fudge or Quicksilver Messenger Service than anything.”

“Far-Out! So-”

“I hate to interrupt,” Stretch cut in, “But the station is closed for the night.”

The man turned back to her, a strange glint in his eye and a sick grin that made you shudder. “Well, y’see, I wa-wanted to phone in my request but, but I al-al-always get too nervous, y’know?” He paused for a reaction before continuing, “But, well, since I’m here. In-In flesh-and-blood…I figured I could just give you my request now right!

Stretch looked to you for help and you just lifted your hands in a shrug-like gesture. “Uh, sure, sure. You can tell me your request and then you need to leave.”

The man chuckled, and started heating up the coat hanger he was holding with an old rainbow lighter. “Al-Alright…How about Cold Stone Fever from uh, Humble Pie! Or uh…” he picked at his scalp, ”In Da Vidda da Gadda babey. Heh heh yeah…” he turned to you, “Real, uh, heavy stuff, y’know.” You hid a laugh behind your hand, at his goofy smile and the fact that he got both song titles wrong.

Then that menace was back in his eyes, “Or…how about s-something like that, uh, Lefty r-request record you played today? How’d it go again?” You and Stretch’s eyes went wide as the man screamed and growled in mimicry of the terrible sounds of the attack. You looked at each other in mutual fear at this man standing between you and the exit. “Wh-What was that anyway? R-Rambo III soundtrack?” he chuckled at his own joke. “Could you play it again? Or, uh, m-maybe you co-could get me a copy!” He grinned, “You could both sign it. To-To-To a far out fan!”

He seemed to respond better to you so you spoke up, “We, uh, actually don’t have a copy. Sorry sir. But we could, er,  play your other requests.”

Something dark passed over his face that you couldn’t quite place. He looked to the side in the records vault. “Hey, uh, is this where you keep the golden oldies? And mayb-” The rest of the sentence was cut off when the lights suddenly flipped on, revealing a horrifying giant wielding what looked like a chainsaw. You and Vanita screamed, she ran off towards the back rooms while you ducked out of the way into the far corner of the room behind and hid on the far side of the sofa. You heard the man from earlier hollering in pain and wailing at the giant to “Get the girl!” You saw the giant run after Vanita through the door, and you peered out from your hiding place. You watched the man from before scream and clutch at his head. “He dented my plate! My brain is burning! Nam flashback! Nam flashback! Leatherface, you bitch, I’ll…Oh just look what you did to my Sonny Bono wig. Oh, God damn it!”

You listened to the man’s cries of pain and rage from your hiding place as you resisted the urge to help him. Judging from what you could make out from his rant, he was clearly with the man trying to kill Stretch. Oh god…Vanita…what have you gotten yourself into? He eventually managed to get to his feet and began to go through the records vault, muttering something about dogs hunting. You covered your ears and tried to block out the terrible sounds coming from behind the door leading to the recording area.

You heard a door open from the other side of the room. “Hey! What the shit?” L.G was back! Maybe he could get the police and everything would be okay.

“Lick my plate you dog dick!” the hippie yelled, flipping L.G. the bird. It would have been funny if the whole situation wasn’t so terrifying.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing in here, you crazy-looking little son of a bitch? Get out of here!” You wanted to scream at L.G. to run out of here and get help, that these guys were totally buggin and super dangerous. But you stayed quiet for fear of revealing your position. This turned out to be a lethal decision as the man lunged at L.G. brandishing a hammer. “Time for incoming mail!” he shrieked, slamming into hammer into L.G.’s skull, “Ho Chi Minh!” Over and over you heard the sickening thuds through your covered ears. You squeezed your eyes shut but you couldn’t pretend it just wasn’t happening. Hell, the same thing was probably happening to Stretch right now .

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the warmth of the tears sliding down your face, but someone else did. You open your eyes to see the killer’s leering face less than a foot from your own, “H-H-Hey there, rock’n’roll b-bunny! T-th-th-thought I lost ya t-there.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” you sobbed, “I’m, like, really sorry for whatever’s making you upset.”

This seemed to make the man nervous, and he started picking twitchily at the edge of a metal plate embedded in his skull. “I-I…I ain’t g-gonna, er, kill you. J-Just…” he looked around the room frantically, as if trying to find a solution to his problem. He spied the hammer over by L.G.’s corpse and his face broke into a grin. He scrambled to grab it, whipped back around, and started getting closer to you, arms out ahead of him as if you were a spooked animal. And I guess in a way you were. “N-Now do-don’t move or-or nothing. It It ain’t gonna h-hurt.”

Your soft sobs turned into bawling, “NoNoNo Oh God PleasePleasePleasePlease Don’t do this Please don’t do this!”

You noticed some emotion flash across his face that you couldn’t figure out. “A-one and a-two and a-three!” and the hammer fell down on your skull. You collapsed, yet you kept fading in and out of consciousness. You heard footsteps coming through the door to the studio and what sounded like the two men having a one sided conversation. “Did you get her, Bubba? Did you get that bitch? She was my fave…but-but she knew! And now…nobody knows!…L-look what you did to my plate, you bitch!…Y-You got her? Di-Did you get her good?…Slap me five!

You heard footsteps coming closer but you couldn’t see what was happening as you felt yourself getting dragged over to a damp section of floor. “I got some too. Bonus bodies! Look at that beef,” you vaguely felt a slap against your thigh, but it was as if you were made of cotton. “Help me get it out of here!,” said the hippie as you felt yourself be hoisted onto the larger man’s shoulders.

 You were tossed in what seemed like the back of a truck, though you were so dizzy it was hard to tell. Finally you succumbed to your head injury and passed out. The giant, Bubba, left to sit shotgun and only Chop-top stayed by, standing over you with a dopey look on his face. “Don’t wo-worry baby, we’ll b-be home soon,” he gave you a sloppy peck on the cheek and ran back around to the driver’s side. “Alright Bubba! Let’s blow this pop stand!” he yelled, and sped off back to where the rest of the family was waiting.