#Ana’s “Shit My Patients Say” Challenge

[wrenwritesometimes]

Supernatural

A/N: This shouldn't have taken as long to write as it did... curse my procrastinating soul to Hell. 

This is for the lovely @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms for her “Shit My Patients Say” challenge! My prompt was “My friends said I couldn't do it so I had to prove them wrong”.

Thanks, yet again and always, to @imnoaingeal, my beloved writing-sister, for reading this over! ❤️

Warnings: Cussing, and that's pretty much it... gosh, I have a foul mouth...

You must be… insane.

Insane. Absolutely insane.

You were - what - twenty-something? Following through with a fucking triple-dog dare??

Props, Y/N. Props. 

You had a flashlight - good job. You had some food - good ‘un. You had a knapsack with other supplies - so proud of you. You had mace - at least you’ll have a fighting chance.

“Ugh,” you groaned as you sat on the dusty, half-rotten floor of the abandoned and condemned mansion.

It was terrifying being here - but that may be the monophobia talking. The house itself reminded you of both the Munster and Addams’ family houses mashed up into one hybrid.

And you loved antiques. Which is what brought upon you this unpleasant spotlight.

“Ha! I bet Y/N would have a fucking ball up there!” “Ohhoho, yeeah! She could get real chummy with the ghosts and ancient clocks or some shit!”

You honestly hated your friends’ boyfriends. They constantly picked on you when they spent time with their girlfriends - your best friends. It had become a whole thing… your best friends jumping in on it too, egging you on in a way that only started when they started dating those assholes.

All three of you had shacked up together to get through college, and both of ‘em got boyfriends dumber than rocks. You were joyfully single, free of assholes plaguing your judgment.

Obviously, being the stubborn mule you were - you were too angry to back down from jackshit.

You sighed and gagged slightly at the heavy-scented musty atmosphere of the house as you looked around the living room of the mansion.

This sucked.

But really, though, you were gushing over the condemned antiques and the leftover deteriorating furnishing!

There were paintings everywhere; the big, long portrait kind you'd see at the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. The fireplace in the living room looked like it could indeed be a gateway to hell… was big enough for it.

You had only timidly explored the foyer, the entry hallway, and the living room; and had poked your head into the dining room.

There was too much to discover for one night, but you were up and you doubted you'd be able to get to sleep.

You had set up camp in the living room, setting your knapsack against the sheet-covered couch and sitting next to it.

"Just one night,” you mutter under your breath. “Only one night.”

Who knew what was upstairs… squatters, murderers, junkies…

You felt unnerved again, and you immediately got up, grabbing the mace from the easily accessible front pocket of the knapsack.

Glaring at the stairs across the living room and foyer, you decided. You’d rather go down with a fight than be raped and murdered in your sleep.

You were gonna go upstairs; you were gonna make sure you were alone.

“Oh, fuck,” you hissed to yourself as you stood a foot away from the steps leading up to the next three floors. You weren’t expecting to feel so… nervous. You were vibrating. Your shoulders were tense.

Taking quick, shallow breaths, you made your right foot meet the first step.

“Phhhftew…” You had your left foot join your right foot. “Okay.”

You looked up the daunting stairs, your vision seemingly tunneling. You blinked rapidly and looked to your feet and decided to only focus on the steps.

Since when did you get this… unnerved? You liked to think you were a little ballsy - I mean, how else did you muster up the courage to hop the eight-or-so foot tall chain link fence?

... Something was wrong.

The hair on your neck was standing up.

The breath before you was visible; your skin prickling as cold embraced you.

“Nope, absolutely fuck this,” you spat furiously, practically leaping away from the staircase to grab your stuff, because fuck leaving your shit with whatever ghost was about to murder your ass.

You were furious at this situation. Furious at how you were in this situation in the first place. Furious at how you allowed yourself to fit this stereotypical “haunted house dumbass bimbo getting murdered” trope.

You knew better. You read the Supernatural series. This was a ghost. This was bad. You had to leave.

You snatched your shit quickly, giving the area a flustered once-over before turning to run out of the door; but immediately you roared “shit!”, and leapt back a full foot.

There in the two-door, doorless doorway of the living-room-to-the-foyer stood… fuckin’ something. Something with an axe.

 “Fucking seriously?!” You seemed to reach another frequency before ultimately deciding to throw the knapsack over your shoulder and sprint and slide - noticing that the throbbing pain that would normally accompany that action was totally nonexistent right now - toward the antique fire poker. You needed iron.

Grabbing it, you sprinted for the kitchen, no longer mindful of the timid fear you had felt earlier about approaching any other room.

You bumped into every wall possible on your way to the kitchen - an open-floor plan seemed to be far from the brain of the designers of the century-old mansion, as the “help quarters” came into view obviously by the small hallways.  You slid on the smooth floor of the kitchen, and cursed obscenely as you crashed into the island of the larger space, the stainless steel making just as obscene of a noise.

“Salt,” you barked to yourself, searching wildly - hoping wildly - that there would be salt left from previous owners.

No such luck, you noted with desperate dismay. You heaved a distressed sigh and brandished your fire poker with vigor, looking like either a Knight worthy of the Round Table, or an amateur high school softball batter - which was... actually what you were just a few years ago in high school…

 You were fine… all you had to do was leave. That's why it was mad and wanted to murder you! You just had to leave.

… But the adrenaline was gone, and you couldn't move. The mere idea of running for the door - or anywhere out of this kitchen - made you tremble and breathe shakily.

 “Shit shit shit” was your mantra, as if the word itself would materialize before you and protect you...

For fuck’s sake, it might as well have. A man as tall as your expectations for men itself (thanks Marvel) burst through the back door you were facing swiftly, making you yelp and panic, making you lower your weapon-of-choice momentarily; long enough for a slightly less tall, but equally swift man to come from behind you and grab your poker, lowering it so you wouldn't hit them.

That contact unfortunately made you panic more, and you struggled to spin around and swing, gasping for breath.

You managed to trip on your own feet - they felt like lead - and you stumbled into Shorty’s chest. You felt the other man behind you - the taller one - manhandle the poker completely out of your grasp, and the two of them together escorted you out of the house via the back-porch door.

You were panting loudly and as soon as both men’s hands left your person, you bolted away a few yards, grabbing your mace from your pocket.

You turned back to them, eyes wide and teary, yelling, “Who the fuck are you guys!!”

They moved forward a pace, but halted and lifted their hands in surrender as you raised your mace, panicked.

They shared a weary glance.

“Look, uh, no offense… sweetheart…” shorty lowered his hands, “but… we just saved your ass.” The shorter one - the one that you had faceful of pectoral - had a rough, deep voice that sounded like he was trying too hard to sound tough.

But, the fucker had a point. You lowered your mace, glancing cautiously at the two men; the tallest one had yet to speak, but he still had his hands up placatingly.

“You can put the mace away, okay?” The tall one attempted. You shook your head vehemently. “No can do, gigantor,” you muttered, holding your mace with an iron grip. “Who the hell are you two? And what the hell was that inside?? Was it what I think it was?”

The shorter of the two scoffed lightly. “A better question: what the hell are you even doin’ here; campin’ in a forsaken mansion?”

Why give ‘em an excuse?

Flatly, you retorted, “My friends said I couldn’t do it, so I had to prove them wrong.”

The two men glanced to each other; one with raised eyebrows and one with furrowed.

“Really?” said the shorter one, head pivoting back to you, eyes squinted. “You're - what? - twenty?”

You worked your jaw and glared at the shorter one.

“Yeah, and?” you bit back, feeling ballsy once more.

The short one laughed and settled back on his heels condescendingly. “It didn't occur to you how dumb it would be to do something like this? Have you not seen any horror movie ever?”

The taller one glanced briefly at the shorter one and muttered a chastisement. “Dean,” he scolded.

Dean, huh?

“Yeah, Dean, I'm not a fucking dumbass, I know how fucking stupid it was to come in here.” You huffed. “It didn't fucking occur to you that maybe it's none of your fucking business where I am and where I go, especially if you are not government or local officials?”

Dean and the taller one recoiled in surprise at your small outburst, but while the taller one seemed amused, the shorter one - Dean - looked furious.

“No, actually, Miss,” authority was becoming clear in his voice. “It is my fucking business where dumbasses go - especially places like this!” He gestured toward the house. “Where you can get yourself killed by something like you just saw!”

You had no retort… so you just stood there for an awkward moment, trying desperately to keep arguing.

But, the adrenaline left like a rush of caffeine again and you realized - wait, these guys just toted my sorry ass outta there when I couldn't...

“You're right,” you muttered in disbelief, the adrenaline seeping out of your body still, and you were back to normal. Back to standing shyly and timidly. “What… what was that thing…?” you repeated.

The men both looked surprised by your complete one-eighty… but responded.

“Uh…” the taller one began. “Ghost. Vengeful spirit?”

“Sam,” it was Dean’s turn to scold. He was glancing warningly at his brother--

“Wait...”

You hadn't realized you said it out loud, but their stares didn't unnerve you any more.

“Are you actually fucking kidding me?” You were not amused. You were not all fluttery. You were mad. “Not only are ghosts real, but Carver Edlund’s Sam and Dean Winchester are real too?”

You were too busy glaring petulantly at the dead grass beneath to notice how dead still and seriously miffed the two men before you had become.

Finally, you looked up, studying them. “Y’all look different from your book covers.” Dean let out a groan that more so sounded like a moan; breathy. Sam just glared off into the distance, breathing heavily.

“I thought we told Chuck to stop those fucking books,” Dean muttered into his palm, glancing at his brother.

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “I trust he did,” Sam muttered back. “I think he really took to our threats...” You blanched in disbelief as they spoke to each other. Threats?? “Maybe she found them in some hole-in-the-wall bookstore.”

“I don't think you guys understand,” you deadpanned. “I not only saw a ghost inside this godforsaken mansion, but I was physically manhandled by my two favorite superheroes...”

You glanced between them sternly. “I think I'm fangirling,” you said flatly.

Sam and Dean glared at you, only Sam’s glare being semi-playful. He recognized your satirical delivery then. Dean seemed legitimately peeved.

“You need to leave here,” he said. “It's not safe, and we need to gank this thing.”

“Oh my god, you actually say gank??” You cackled. “I thought that was just a running gag! Do you say ‘awesome’ a lot to??”

Sam nodded from his place beside his brother, mumbling under his breath: “Yes, he really does.”

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed, facing his brother, his eyes squinted in disbelief. “This isn't happening right now! We have to finish this!”

Sam sobered up quick and looked to you. “Please, go home,” he said. “Forget about this, okay?”

“I doubt I will,” you fired back. “I think I need you two to autograph my books.”

Sam stared at you blankly, but Dean’s glare coulda killed you. You were only half joking… No, yeah, you wanted those autographs.

“...For real; I'm being serious.”

Dean grunted and stomped off to the house, leaving Sam to deal with you.

“We’re staying at the only motel this town has,” Sam announced begrudgingly, edging his way to the door awkwardly. “Bring what you want and at least I’ll sign ‘em.”

Your heart swelled and you nodded. “Good luck, Sammy,” you giggled.

Sam’s lips pursed and he took a breath; probably to tell you not to call him Sammy… but he only shook his head and charged through the door after his brother.

You left immediately to grab your favorite copies of Supernatural.

Tags:

@notnaturalanahi

[txemrn]

Book: Open Heart (after book 3)

Word Count: 1456 (+/-)

Warnings: Language, angst, maternal death

A/N: You guessed it; we did another Drunken Drabbles last night (which if you ever want to play, please join us! My buddies @chemist-ana, @jstawriterbee, & @kat-tia801 joined me last night--check out their DD! They actually have smut!), and this one is brought to you be Deep Eddie's Vodka. As far as the challenge? I broke every. single. rule. First of all, I passed out before I could schedule to post this, so here I am, 2.5 hours late. Second, I didn't use the prompt. There is literally no prompt to this. Third, I'm well over 1000 word. And finally, there is no smut. Nada. Zilch. What the hell happened last night? *rubs head* Some characters and plot belong to Pixelberry. Also, no editing or pre-reading with this bad boy, so please forgive me! Enjoy! 😎

***

Depositing a dollop of hand sanitizer in her palm, newly appointed Chief of Obstetrics Dr. Tatum Erikson escorts a nurse out of a labor patient's room. “Let’s go ahead and start that amnio,” she orders as she rubs her hands together. "300 bolus followed by 80 an hour. Call me if--" the chime of her pager interrupts her. "Shit."

"Ma'am?"

Tatum rubs her temples. "Sorry--um--" she looks back at her pager. "--call me if those decels don't resolve in thirty minutes--" she begins to jog down the birthing center's corridor, heading towards the stairs to exit the unit.

She bolts down the six flights, reaching the ground level at a rapid speed. She rounds the corner, pushing past the double doors next to a large red-and-white illuminated sign: Emergency. She sees the commotion ahead and a patient being transferred from a stretcher, not responsive.

"I'm Dr. Erikson," she frantically calls out over the chaos of the room. "I was paged 911. What've we got?" As a seasoned EMT rattles off vital signs and history, Tatum instantly recognizes Karla Hogan, a patient she saw this morning at her 38-week check-up appointment.

Oh, God, no... Please no...

"...she was found unresponsive at the scene of the MVA. Asystole. CPR in process for 17 minutes--"

"Epi? We've given epi?"

"Yes--"

"Atropine?"

"Maxed."

No, no, no. This can't be happening…

"Doctor, how would you like to proceed--?"

"Put a goddamn fetal monitor on my patient," she barks, turning to a nurse nearby. "You," she points, "page OB STAT Emergency overhead. I need an OR now--"

"It won't make a difference," bellows a cold, baritone voice from the doorway of the room.

Tatum freezes, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She knows that hauntingly deep voice: a voice that once made her giggle incessantly during the day while he purred her name late into the night; a voice that encouraged her, comforted her, believed in her all through medical school; a voice that once laid claim to her hand and her heart--that is until that voice found her in bed with his best friend. She knows that frigid tone anywhere.

"Ramsey," she mutters.

"A postmortem c-section?" He condescendingly questions, strolling confidently into the room. "She's been down for how long--?"

"But, if these chest compressions have been adequate, there's a chance--"

"She was gone before they even started--" he nonchalantly interjects as he begins testing the patient's reflexes.

"Doctor Ramsey," she chides before being abruptly interrupted by a trauma nurse.

"Dr. Erikson, I think I hear a heartbeat, but it's low and slow." Tatum nervously nods, taking a few deep breaths.

"That's good enough for me," she kindly thanks the nurse. "Alright, team," she boldly orders, "Let's get her ready for a cesarean." She turns to a nearby technician. "Where the hell is my OB team?"

"They've been paged--"

"Page them again," orders Tatum.

"But, doctor--"

"Page them again," Tatum's tone becomes more stern as she starts grabbing surgical materials. Slipping on a scrub hat, she turns to look into a pair of familiar, crystal blue eyes. "When's the last time you did surgery, Ramsey?"

The tall provider sardonically chuckles. "It's been a while," he crosses his arms, "but, it's not happening right now--"

Tatum scoffs. "Let's get her prepped people. Move!"

"Dr. Erikson," Ethan hollers, a warning in his tone. "You will not be performing this--"

"Watch me." Tatum fervently assists the nurses and technicians in positioning the gravid body. "If you've got a problem, take it up with the chief. This is my call--"

"Already have," Ethan snidely rebuttals, "and it's my call." Tatum stops applying her surgical mask, slowly turning her attention to his towering frame. Her wide eyes slowly trace down from his face to the embroidery of his white coat: Dr. Ethan J. Ramsey, Chief of Medicine.

Tatum blinks her lashes in confusion. "Where's Dr. Banerji?"

"Not here," Ethan smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Now will you be reasonable?"

"Reasonable?" She feels the anger burning inside her as she fights back the stinging pain of tears. Her eyes glisten with earnest pleading. "Ethan," she beckons under her breath, "We could save a life."

Ethan runs his hand over his face, allowing his fingers to rest against his chin. "Tatum, I--"

"Please. Do this," she swallows deeply, her voice reducing to a whisper, "for me?" Ethan's gaze fixes on his former love, a flash of memories flood before his eyes leaving the pair in a palpable stillness.

"Nurse," he calls out from over his shoulder, "I need a size eight glove."

***

"You want me to--"

"I can do it."

Ethan and Tatum walk in silence to the waiting room to retrieve Karla Hogan's husband. Recognizing him instantly, Tatum invites him to follow him to a more private room to talk.

"Just--just say it, Dr. Erikson." Tatum stuns in her steps, slowly turning to face the tearful husband and father-to-be. "Please don't make me take one more step, one more second not knowing that the love of my life--that she, my Karla--" his voice falls into sobs.

"We--we did everything--" Tatum's voice runs hoarse as tears drip from her cheeks. She clears her throat. "Mr. Hogan, I--I--" A sudden tunnel of darkness clouds around her head, the room falling silent. She feels her heart begin to panic, thundering in her chest as her breathing becomes more shallow. She's had this difficult discussion before with family members; but death in the maternity ward is never something one should get used to.

Suddenly, Ethan gently puts a hand on Tatum's shoulder, a comforting touch that always brought her back to reality. She takes a few deep breaths, looking up at him. He gives a curt nod as he squeezes her shoulder, stepping forward to talk.

"Mr. Hogan, we did everything we could…"

Tatum slips off her scrub cap, letting platinum blonde wisps cascade down her face. All she can picture in her head is Karla, how she was full of hope this morning‐‐they both were. And in the blink of an eye

"... but thanks to this skillful doctor right here," Tatum is pulled from her thoughts by Ethan's words as he points to her. "--your newborn baby girl is waiting for you, recovering in our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit."

***

After leading the emotional father up to meet his daughter, Tatum turns on her heel, making her way back to her laboring patients in the birthing center. But, before she exits the NICU, she discovers Ethan finishing a conversation with one of the neonatologists. Their eyes meet.

“Proud of you today, Tate,” Ethan offers a crooked smile.

Tatum dramatically steps closer to Ethan, crossing her arms as she raises an eyebrow. “Pardon me,” she lifts a hand up to cup her ears, “but did you just say, ‘You were right, Tatum; I was wrong’?”

Ethan pinches between his eyes while his other hand rests on his hip. “I’m never wrong--”

“Today you were--” she jovial pokes at him.

“You got lucky--”

“And you’re still bitter--”

“‘Bitter’?” Ethan scoffs, “of you--?”

“That someone’s medical intuition rivals your own--”

“Dare to dream, Dr. Erikson, but we both know exactly what your intuition is capable of--” The moment the words left his lips, a painful apologetic look plagues Ethan’s eyes as he watches the stunned hurt flash across hers. A thick silence floods between them, both of them unsure how to recover from such a low-blow of a remark. Tatum stares at the floor, unsure if she should just walk away.

“Tatum, I--” she shakes her head, waving her arm to dismiss the inevitable apology. She just wasn’t sure when she would stop paying for the sins of her past.

“So,” she tries to change subjects as a mischievous grin grows across her face. "I missed the memo. You're my boss."

"I'm your boss," he chuckles, crossing his arms.

"Hrmmm," Tatum raises her eyebrows, turning towards the door as a silence falls between them, again. She motions for the automatic door to open.

"Hrmmm what?" Ethan questions, turning towards her as the doors slowly open.

"Oh, I was just thinking," she lowers her voice, placing her hand on his arm. Ethan bites his lower lip as his cheeks begin to flush. His eyes flutter down to her lips before drifting back to her gaze. He swallows thickly.

"A-About what?" His tone matches hers.

She giggles letting go of his arm. She makes her way through the automatic doors and back en route to her department. But, not before she calls out over shoulder in a dark, sensually husky voice: "It wouldn't be the first time--" she twirls on her heel to look at him one more time, giving him a wink and a knowing smile, "--sir."

***

@chemist-ana @charlotteg234 @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @irisofpurple @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @thefrenchiemama

[omegaversebutbetter]

Overwatch

Okay lets try this again

Genji: Alpha, one of the motivating forces for Hanzo to duel him and as a result from the "accident" His Ability to smell and produce sents is kinda damaged. He acted very alphaish while part of blackwatch to try and make up for it but nowardays some people dont even realise he is one since hes so chill and dosent act that way anymore.

Hanzo: Omega, got a blocker soon after presenting by order of his father and kept it even after leaving for the convinience of not having heats and because his time in the yakuza basically made him belive omegas are meek and weak and people only looked at them as objects. This causes drama later on. Hanzo is basically feral when joining the team, he holds himself confidently and as if he has poise most of the time but when people try to touch him or somethibg suppr9ses him he is very jumpy and has almost attacked multiple people as a result. This agitation and aggression is partiality made worse by the implant and wouldn't get much better until its out.

Angela: Beta. Ik people normally think she'd be Omega but fr that woman is pure balence. She does get mistaken for an omega allot tho. Her possition as a Beta really helps her tending to all patients so she has no complaints.

76: Omega, had a impact for the super soldier program but once the crisis was over he had it taken out, both to be a good role model for other omegas but also because he just wanted to for him mainly but also for his bf at the time (despite the fact that his eyes still often drifted to a certain other squad leader). Nowerdays he still dosent have one but age makes his heats less frequent and his senses and scent a little dulled.

Ana: Alpha. She is extremely chill for an Alpha but chill in the "I am confident I have complete control of this situation" kind of way, usually because she does. She is known for being calm in arguments with other alphas and often winning those arguments as a result, almost none has seen her in an alpha rage but the rumours are that someone has once and they said it was the most terrifying thing they'd ever seen. Ana has been mistaken for the leader of her packs in the past and despite the fact that she basically is co-leader of evey pack she's in she always makes sure that she's not overshadowing the leader especially when they're not Alpha.

Reinheart: I kiiiinda wanna make him an omega who has litterally no idea what OBA expectations are. He's just the jollyest, largest omega you will ever meet. He does not give a shit what people think of him to the point where he won't defend himself unless someone questions his honour. This leads to people like Ana and Morrison in the past hovering around him and fighting anyone who tried harassing him.

McCree: Alpha. Used to be a brash, cocky, and kinda mean alpha before Blackwatch got a hold of him and mellowed him out through giving him a stable pack with a leader (as opposed to deadlock where basically eveyone fought over being leader). He is the most unmistakably alpha person you will ever meet however he is also one of the softest, kindest and possibly the most adorable alphas you will ever know if you get close to him. He's embaressed every time he growls by accident nowerdays.

Lucio: honestly I can't see lucio as anything other than Beta or Omega so I think probably Beta? But I think none else knows either and if anyone asks he says he'd rather people not know because he'd prefer to be judged my charecter instead of his second sex.

Hana: hasn't presented yet, had an implant bc of the mecha program she was in and hasn't had it out. She dosent really care regardless.

Mei: omega, I dont have much else to add to this, she's small and soft and probably the most typical omega of the bunch.

Zarya: Alpha, much like but in contrast to Mei she is the most typical alpha of the bunch. She has kinda old fashioned views about Alphas and Omegas but after getting her ass handed to her by Reinheart while sparring, finding out he was omega and accidentally being rude to him as a result the others realised she had such veiws and Morrison, Ana, McCree and Mei had a little sit down talk with her. She quickly learnt and when Satya joined later and was rude to an omega member of the pack she was the first to jump up and defend them

Satya: unknown, she has an inplant that has prevented her from presenting since she was a child and still has it. She carries herself like an alpha and looks down on Omegas however she looks down on eveyone so her veiw is often overlooked.

Reyes: Alpha. Pack leader, protective and angy. Nuff said.

Sombra: Beta with blockers that stop her from producing any scent for stealth. She has been a solo act for most her life and Talon with Reyes is her first ever pack so she takes time to adapt but once she does it suits her surprisingly well.

Widow: Amile was Omega. Widowmaker has no heats or scent.

Baptitse: deadass I'm not sure. Could litterally be any. Big soft alpha? Big kind omega? Lovely helpful Beta? I really don't know. I feel like I can't make all medical staff Betas tho...so...omega. He had a blocker put in when he joined Talon and those lot assumed he was Beta or Alpha since he never knew. But once he leaves and gets freedom of a sort he chooses to have it removed. He suffers a little for it but he's generally positive and not insecure about it. He dosent like to share heats with anyone tho, it's the one time he shuts himself off from everyone.

Moira: Alpha. Toxic.

Brigette: Alpha, presented a few years ago. She's like a golden retriever but smarter, if you're her friend she will do anything you ask, gets you random gifts and upgrades, carries anything for her friends no matter how heavy, but if you try to abuse her kindness you'll find she sint stupid and it takes one glare for someone to know you don't fuck with this Alpha. She may be a healer but she could absolutely destroy you if you try to fuck her or her friends over.

Torb: Alpha. Can go into a pure rage in a moment but will never use an alpha voice. He's just a cranky old man who seems to have practically forgotten he's an alpha. Was very proud of Brigette's presenting but gave her a few lectures and lessons to make sure it never went to her head.

Sigma: I barely know this cherecter, can no say

Doomfist: Alpha. Asshole. Talons top dogs and heavy hitters are mostly alphas. It's like...toxic alphaism at its finest. Doom is smart and cunning and wants to complete dominate situations he's in. He's an alpha.

Tracer: can't belive I forgot tracer until now, Omega. She was often underestimated for being a little omega in the past but this spitfire powered through everything in life with positivity and self love and she embraces evey part of herself. She sometimes flies home for heats when they're not too busy and are well staffed so she can spend time with her girlfriend.

Roadhog and Junkrat: Alpha and Omega. They're a couple. No I will not take criticism. These two are mates and do litterally whatever they want as long as they're together. In the wasteland there are no gender expectations, only explosives, violence and love.

Ashe: don't know much about her either but I wanna say omega with major alpha vibes. She is the embodiment of the phrase "power bottom" in every sence

Pharah: mmmmm Alpha. She's stubborn and strong, a real soldier, but if you compliment her muscles or challenger her she will show off.

And I think that's it! Any other ideas? Leave them in the comments!

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.2

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 4110

Summary: There’s a new handsome guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Somehow Bucky knew from the start that he would be a problem.

And now it looks like your substitute professor - no other than Steve Rogers, your boyfriend - will have to save you from having to go on a date with Daniel. Perfetto.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away​ for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Based on a post sent to me by lovely @wxstedhexrt​ ♥

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, mentions of harassment, brief panic, threat of violence if you squint, swearing (a lot), and some possessive bf SR

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Had your brain had been working, you would have been able to appreciate how fine the man at the professor stand was looking – wearing a perfectly-fitting dress pants, cream-coloured shirt and a dark suit jacket.

Had the situation been even a tiny bit different, you would have been thrilled to see him, instantly comforted by his mere presence, insanely grateful to have him distract you after you dealt with the menace of a guy claiming the seat next to you.

But the circumstances were what they were and you were positively mortified, because your unwanted suitor was about to challenge your beloved boyfriend to a duel without visibly throwing in a gauntlet; without Steve’s knowledge.

Then again, Steve might know all about your escapades with Daniel as far you were concerned, because him being here, while it could have been caused by many different things, was most definitely Bucky’s doing. He had probably told Steve everything.

For a brief moment, Steve’s gaze caught yours, lingering for just a moment, long enough to let you see the uncharacteristic cold of his beautiful cerulean irises, causing you to gulp in fright.

You were sure you were going to be sick, your stomach somersaulting when you imagined how this could turn out.

Oh Steve was mad, okay. He was very mad, at you – and you were so completely screwed-

A small smile graced his lips, a simple minute shift that allowed you breathe again. Well, if anything, he was about to be civil about it.

Or not. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved a little bit to the right to your companion, the gentle barely-there curve of his mouth straightening instantly. Oh, he absolutely knew who Daniel was.

“Good morning, almost afternoon, class. For those who don’t know me, I’m Professor Rogers and for today, I’ll be taking over Professor Barnes’ lecture,” Steve introduced himself simply and despite the situation at hand, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his ‘professor voice’ – and yes, that was a thing, you had found yourself on the receiving end of it multiple times…always pleasant ones. “He had to leave because of an urgent personal matter-“

I bet he fucking had to-

“-and he sends his apologies for not letting you know sooner, not that he let me know particularly on time.”

A few chuckles sounded around the class as Steve’s eyes roamed over it with a quirk to his brow.

You practically feel Daniel radiate smugness next to you as he leaned closer, whispering in your ear conspiratorially, sensing an easy win.

“I hope you like Italian cuisine, bellezza,” he hummed self-assuredly and you gave him ana annoyed side-eye as he already bragged, thinking himself a winner of your bet.

And then it dawned to you, through the fog of unexpected events.

There was an upside in Steve being in the class after all; if Daniel had been tasked to catch Steve off guard… well. Even with Steve apparently being informed late about the substitute situation, your problem was solved; no dinner with the jackass sitting next to you.

You just hoped that he would leave you alone after failing to earn today’s date.

And that Steve wouldn’t see much of your ‘normal’ interaction with Daniel, because otherwise you’d be in even bigger trouble than you already were. Or Daniel would. Or Steve would. Probably all of you now that you thought about it.

You mentally prayed Steve had more restraint than your Italian classmate; seeing as Professor Rogers’ shoulders seemed even broader than usual, tense and intimidating, just like the strange glint in his eyes despite his easy smiles, you assumed your prayers should be very much needed.

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About thirty minutes into the lesson, it appeared that the big guy up there took mercy on you, because Daniel had been surprisingly well-behaved, at least when it came to you and kept his hands to himself. Not that you felt like celebrating that, not with Steve probably knowing all about the previous advances anyway.

Otherwise, he had been acting like himself; he had already tried to correct Steve twice and failed, just like with three attempts to ask a question in order to find a gap in Steve’s knowledge. Every time Steve cooled him down, growing visibly less patient with him, caused you to bite into your cheek to supress a smile, because you might have been in deep shit, but you could at least enjoy the show.

And Daniel getting his ass handed to him in a duel that Steve might and might not know about (oh, he knew, we was well-aware that he had the chance to show his dominance, alright, and yes, somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought it was maybe a tiny bit stupid, the stroking of his ego, and that it was also ultimately hot) – was certainly a sight to behold.

Out of blue, a finger poked your thigh, making you nearly jump out of your skin, your head automatically whirling to Daniel in irritation at his intrusion.

The angry ‘WHAT’ got stuck in your throat when he winked at you, his whole expression lit up as a kid’s on Christmas Day.

Shit, you could practically see the metaphorical lightbulb above his head as he made a show of pointedly raising his hand to catch professor’s attention.

You held your breath as Steve noticed him, mild annoyance creeping into his voice as he stopped explaining his thing and encouraged Daniel to speak.

“Yes, Mr. Gallo?” Steve sighed, apparently torn between trying hard not to show his irritation and not caring at all if it was on display.

To your utter horror, your classmate smiled brightly, lowering his hand—and visibly pointing at you.

“Will she go to dinner with me tonight?”

Your vision turned black for a second and it seemed that the whole world just stopped moving. Every shuffle of paper, every faint whisper, absolutely everything went silent in the class. Hell, your heart probably gave out too, pointedly quiet.

The silence sounded so ominous with the anticipation of a storm that even dropping a pin would be a deafening noise in the frozen space. You would swear that everyone sans Daniel and Steve held their breaths… because despite Daniel’s obvious ignorance, the whole damn year – if not the whole damn school – was aware that you were with Steve.

Your gaze reluctantly refocused on the man in question, terrified of what you would see – and you met with the sight of Steve’s eyebrows practically disappearing in his hairline as a sign of surprise; but his eyes, oh his eyes definitely darkened, that much you could tell even from a distance. And his shoulders squared, seemingly enormous in the dark suit.

Oh God, please don’t let him snap at Daniel. Or me. But now mostly Daniel, because we so don’t need another scandal-

Your eyes registered what he was saying before your ears did; a single syllable spoken on an even volume, in fact spoken softly even… and somehow carrying more menace than if shouted.

“No.”

Daniel grew fucking radiant next to you, completely unaware of what was happening as the whole class released a breath, because no one lost an arm or got their neck broken in the purely verbal exchange. Seriously, you didn’t understand how could Daniel be so completely oblivious to the fact that the question he had asked was much more severe and daring than he could ever imagine.

He thought he won and you, honestly, were torn, because Daniel created an amazing paradox that made your brain, already numb from the emotion in Steve’s voice – or the lack of it –, switch off altogether. After all, if you didn’t want to go out with Daniel, then Steve was correct thus you didn’t have to go on the date. However, in a way, you had promised to Daniel to go.

You couldn’t wrap your damn mind around it and Steve kept glaring at Daniel as the guy basked in his supposed victory, until he noticed the professor still staring and actually had the decency to shrink into his seat for a bit.

Steve’s gaze flickered to you – sending you into a cardiac arrest with the intensity of his glare, speaking thousands of words and yet remaining scarily silent – before he averted it in favour of staring down the main culprit.

“And I’ll have to ask both of you to come talk to me after the class is finished.”

Oh yes. You were totally screwed and all three of you were in trouble.

Daniel didn’t seem to realize such though, spinning to you on his chair openly the moment Steve dismissed the class as if he hadn’t been scolded by the professor.

He actually had the audacity to grin at you so cockily that you considered punching his face, saving Steve the trouble of doing it himself (he did look like that could be what he was about to do and you’d rather if he didn’t). If you socked Daniel in his jaw, you’d get the satisfaction and Steve would keep his record without staining it with lost his temper while on the job. Fucking win-win. Let’s do this.

“So. What time am I picking you up?” Daniel hummed confidently, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Yep, punching it was. You couldn’t believe this guy-

Refraining from violence for few more moments, before the urge truly turned unbearable, you took a deep breath and nodded in Steve’s direction, taking care to refer to him properly: “Professor Rogers wanted to talk to us.”

Daniel rolled his eyes at your poor attempt at deflection and clicked his tongue. “Come on, he can wait five more seconds.”

“Rude to keep him waiting,” you opposed, irked by his attitude… again. Your mind was made. “Plus, he was right, you know. I’m not going out with you.”

Daniel’s eyebrows jumped, one corner of his lips quirking. “Bet’s a bet-“

“Mr. Gallo?” Steve’s impatient voice interrupted the bragger, who turned to him in acknowledgement, not wanting to make him too mad, apparently. As long he was concerned, he had you in his pocket, after all. But did he? “I don’t have all day. And if you could bring the poor girl you’re apparently pursuing with you.”

At that, even you shot Steve a look; his tone was speaking volumes, but you had a hard time reading it anyway.

Poor girl? Really? Was that a promise of what you’d be once he was done with you?

You swallowed your fear, ignoring the pounding of your heart and swiftly stood up, stalking to the stand with Daniel at your heels.

Steve’s strict gaze flickered between the two of you as he crossed his arms on his chest expectantly.

“So. You two want to tell me what that was about? Are we back to high school or what?”

“I’m sorry about hi-“

“There was a bet,” Daniel exclaimed matter-of-factly, causing you to whirl around to shot him an incredulous look.

Really? Straight to the point? He truly had no shame, did he?

But then again, you learned that a while ago.

“A bet,” Steve parroted sceptically. “You chose academic soil for betting… Professor Barnes’s class, no less?”

Daniel ignored the fact that Steve was looking down at him as if he was a low-life and gave you a side eye.

“Yes, Professor, we did-“

“And you think that it’s appropriate? Letting it interrupt a class on top of that, dragging a professor into it?”

You squirmed, wrapping your arms around yourself. Steve spared you a brief glance before he continued glaring murder at your classmate.

You knew that what you had done was probably wrong, but you had expected Bucky, who was pretty easy-going for a scholar; and it had seemed like a better option than punching Daniel.

It had got enormously out of hand, you were aware, but more than having a prof involved, you regretted having involved Steve.

You guessed it was time to face the music.

“I truly apologize, Professor Rogers,” you whispered guiltily, lowering your gaze so you didn’t have to face him, his expression no doubt screaming disappointment. 

Something told you that he had been hoping that Daniel was to blame – which he was, but not entirely – and now you were telling him that nope, you were the culprit… sorta. You felt your body shiver as you sensed Steve’s attention shift to you. You also heard the desk creak slightly under his weight – he must have leaned onto it.

“The bet was your idea?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, actually feeling tears pricking your eyes. You nodded and Steve’s reaction was immediate; it was impossible to miss the way his voice softened a fraction when he asked the next question and it made you feel even worse—but goddammit, if Daniel just had left you in peace-

“Why don’t you tell me what it was about?”

“We’ve been flirting-“ Daniel started off, only to get interrupted by a harsh voice.

“I asked her, Mr. Gallo! And mind your tone, please.”

The coldness toward Daniel curiously warmed your heart, a tiny relief spreading in your tense shoulders.

You could do this – this was Steve. He was on your side – at least as long as your suitor, as he had so elaborately put it, was around. Then it might be another story, but you had to deal with one problem at a time.

You cleared your throat and minded to straighten your back, raising your gaze to meet Steve’s. You could feel the encouragement he was giving you, but you could also feel the anger bubbling under the surface rolling off of him.

“Eh, you see, Professor Rogers, it’s just like you said. Daniel was—uhm, he-“ you stumbled over your words nervously as you caught the glint of fury in Steve’s eyes, distracting yourself by pointing at the guy as if it was wasn’t painfully obvious who you were talking about.

“He has been… pursuing me for a while now-“ Steve’s jaw clenched at the admission and even though you supposed he already knew that, it wasn’t any more pleasant to hear that you’d been keeping it from him for a while now. “I-I suppose I wasn’t sending clear enough signals that—ugh, that I wasn’t- wasn’t interested,” your low voice picked up volume as you emphasized that you were not flirting back, pleading Steve to understand… but at the same time, you couldn’t mask the guilt you were feeling and you wanted him to know that you were sorry.

Steve didn’t avert your gaze for a second, listening intently, body rigid.

You quickly hurried to explain the rest, your pulse dangerously high, your face burning.

“Anyway, he was getting-- rather daring and annoying. So, I thought I’d end it once for all. I agreed to go to dinner with him if he managed to ask the professor a question he would answer incorrectly. He apparently thought that this was the most brilliant approach... I’m sorry for- I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, sneaking into your lungs and making it hard to breathe, Steve’s unwavering gaze at you causing you to feel like you shrunk several feet. To anyone else, he might appear calm and collected – but you knew him. You could see the unspoken rage, boiling behind the unnaturally cold blue of his irises; what you couldn’t decode was whom it was aimed at… more.  

And you couldn’t take it anymore, looking away from him, fighting the tears of anger, humiliation and shame.

“I see,” Steve stated evenly, rising to his full height. “You’ve got anything to add, Mr. Gallo?”

That asshole had the audacity to keep his stupid smug smile on his stupidly handsome face as he shrugged.

“Not much. I would probably disagree on the signals-“ he echoed your words sarcastically, earning an unimpressed glare from Steve; upon that, he cleared his throat and lost about 2% of his arrogance. “While I am sorry for interrupting your class, I am not. Thank you, Professor Rogers, you’ve been very helpful.”

You breathed in shakily when you saw Steve’s hand clench into a fist, a minute jerk of his muscles as he probably felt fresh surge of anger at Daniel’s audacity; the air shifted in a matter of seconds, Steve’s aura changing instantly.

You held your breath in dismay. Surely Steve wouldn’t-

“Oh was I?” Steve challenged the younger man wryly, scanning him head to toe. And that you didn’t expect, because… because it looked like Steve was about to bring the pissing contest that had been going on during the class to another level. His next words left no room for discussion. “To her certainly. I answered correctly, so she is free.”

You blinked in shock, not following. Was he about to argue for the ‘she doesn’t want to go, so she won’t go’ point you had considered pulling before?

Daniel chuckled nervously as he sensed the air change as well. The strangest thing was, Steve didn’t seem angry. He looked almost… smug.

…why?

“Eeeeh, no, you didn’t-“

“Yes I did,” Steve said resolutely, easing his posture in order to tower slightly above your classmate. “She won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”

“Yes, she will,” Daniel chuckled derisively as if it was far too obvious and Steve was being stupid. “She said that if-“

“I heard her. I heard you too. And I’m telling that she won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”

Daniel’s confusion was almost palpable, but then again, so was yours.

“She’ll be having dinner with me.”

The shriek coming out of your mouth-- you only imagined that, right? You did not release that sound even if Steve just--- he- did he just tell Daniel that-?

You felt yourself turn into a statue, eyes probably tragicomically wide when Steve’s tension vanished, his lips spreading in a positively sweet smile, sending it your direction. There was no malice in it – for now. However, you could tell he was enjoying the way he rendered both you and Daniel speechless immensely.

There was no mistaking the sparks of mischief and possession, barely covered by the genuine affection shining in his gaze.

“Like most of the nights,” he added for a good measure and you were ready to pass out. And then he made it all better: “You liked the lecture, sweetheart? I know Bucky’s hard to live up to.”

The petname snapped you from the trance; you swallowed the fear of consequences – the fight-in-making with Steve and a fit from Daniel –, and returned the smile, taking the two steps to Steve’s side.

He tenderly grasped your forearm and slipped two fingers under your ¾ sleeve to caress the sensitive skin, sending pleasant shivers up your spine.

Alright… in for a penny, in for a pound it was. You threw caution out of the window, along with the worries about the upcoming dealing with Steve; like you said, one problem at a time. If Steve had decided to show Daniel hat you were, well, you could as well join.

“Well, uhm, if anything, I think you certainly left an impression, Steve.”

One corner of Steve’s lips lifted in a lop-sided smile as he must have remembered that he had doubted doing exactly that when he had entered Bucky’s class the first time and unwittingly become your muse.

Also, he probably appreciated you not saying a word about the boys’ night, which was bound to get in the way of you two in fact having the aforementioned dinner.

“That’s all I can ask for, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm snaking around your waist and gently pulling you to his side, sending a clear message.

She’s mine. Fuck off.

“No.”

Safe in Steve’s arms, you almost had to laugh at the incredulous sound Daniel made.

Steve’s smile slipped, on the other hand, his demeanour hard and uncompromising.

“Yes,” came his reply, scarily calm as his shoulders squared.  

And yet, despite his stern posture, the kiss he dropped to your hairline was soft and had you automatically melting into him no matter how taken aback you were at the turn of events.

Comfort and safety. He had you.

Protectiveness melting into possessiveness. He’d never let this filthy guy touch you again-

“No way. You- you’re not-“ Daniel stuttered, actually taking a step back as a doubtful chuckle left his lips. It made your blood boil that he suddenly thought so little of you, that you could never – because Steve was clearly out of your league. Well, you certainly thought so sometimes, but that wasn’t the point. It was insulting, really, how shocked he seemed. “You’re not dating a-”

“Professor? This specimen?” you tried to finish his sentence, making a point of laying a palm on Steve’s chest. His warm one covered your hand in an instant and you couldn’t but look up at him and smile gratefully, suddenly feeling much stronger. “Why? Because he’s too good for me? Maybe. But maybe he thinks I’m principessa too.”

Due to the close proximity, you could feel every muscle tense in Steve’s body, his fingers digging into your flesh, and only then it occurred to you that trying to sass Daniel by throwing his special petname for you back at him was not the best idea, seeing as it was a new and very much unwelcomed information for Steve.

Welp, too late.

“It’s—that’s not the--- dating professors is against the-“

“Rules?” Steve interrupted, raising a challenging eyebrow. He stepped forward, slipping from the embrace, your hand limply sliding down his chest and falling to your side as he stood between you and Daniel as a human shield. It was comforting, to be honest. And kinda hot. “It’s not. Educate yourself better at the university policy if you feel the need. Then maybe you’d realize that harassing women is against the rules and good morality. From what I heard, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Your stomach clenched and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Was that what Bucky told him? That Daniel had been harassing you? Not that it wasn’t the truth you guessed, but you expected Bucky to paint you in worse light. That was… unexpected to say at least.

What did it mean for you though? Did that mean that Steve wasn’t angry with you at all then? But—

Or was this an act for Daniel? You didn’t think so… mostly because you had never heard Steve so cold and calculating and honestly, he was scaring you a bit as he towered over Daniel – even if it was to protect you.

Daniel’s throat worked visibly as he faced Steve, having to look up not only because Steve was taller, but also because his mere presence, as always, felt enormous.

“So, Mr.Gallo, I’d truly appreciate if you left my girlfriend alone before this grows into a bigger problem.”

Fuck, if you weren’t worried about how Steve would react when you were alone – he... he wouldn’t break up with you over this asshole, would he? – you’d actually be very proud of your boyfriend and his choice of words. That was the best indirect threat you could actually think of.

Before I lose my patience.

Before you regret it.

Before we take this outside.

Anything like that could be considered dangerous for Steve’s position, giving Daniel ammunition – he could complain that Steve was threatening him. But not this.

“Do we have an understanding?” Steve practically growled, causing Daniel to wince and take another minor step back.

“Yes,” he shrieked, quickly swallowing to even his high-pitched voice. He didn’t dare to as much as peek around Steve’s form to look at you. “Crystal clear, Professor Rogers.”

“Glad to hear that.”

You could imagine the wolfish smile Steve gave him as Daniel hurried to pick up his stuff and swiftly walked out of the auditorium without sparing you a glance or a single word.

Though you would swear you heard him muttering under his breath; it sounded a lot like…. troia? But you couldn’t be sure, because you still couldn’t speak Italian and the only thing it reminded you of was the Troy War and something told you that was not it. In fact, you were pretty sure it was some sort of an insult – just giving another reason for Steve’s glare to follow him and remaining fixed on the door long moments after he was gone.

Steve sighed heavily and as you saw his torso expand with an inhale, you felt like he sucked out all the air from the room. Somehow, even with Daniel gone, the atmosphere tasted ominous – if not worse than before.

Steve didn’t look at you as he grabbed his things, beckoning you to gather yours. He didn’t meet your gaze when he was waiting for you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of this damn room before I lose my mind and do something I’ll regret later.”

Yeah. It was definitely worse than before.

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Part 3 (final for A:WLiT)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Vocabulary: Belleza - pretty chick... (really, I just simply assured that it’s something a smug jackass like Daniel would call a woman) Troia - bitch 

Thank you for reading!

Also, thank you for your reactions to the previous chapter, they seemed to vary from calling her a dumbass and feeling sorry for her, mostly calling Daniel a jerk and other names... 

I hope you enjoyed this one too. Buckle up for the last part, people, and don’t forget to read the warnings before diving in 😉

[totallypaletrash-blog]

Gif not mine found on Yahoo Supernatural Drabble Why Is It Doing That - Castiel x Reader Part Of: Ana’s Shit My Patients Say Challenge Prompt: "Wait your sticking that where?" Warnings: smut, language

Sam and Dean were out working a case and Y/n and Castiel were the only ones at the bunker. So she decided to take the opportunity and clean the bunker she was wearing cut off shorts and a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off. She started in the library dusting the books and the book shelves. Castiel walked into the library and saw Y/n standing on her tip toes reaching up to dust a high book shelf. The way she was stretching up he could see the top of her thong and he started to feel funny. She felt someone watching her so she turned around to see Cas, "hi Cas" she said. "Hello Y/n" Cas said, he pulled out a chair and turned it around so he could see her. Y/n bent over to dust the two bottom shelves and Castiel's eyes were pulled to her ass. He felt his dick get hard. He had never had happened before, he wasn't sure what it was. "Y/n, I feel something weird and I don't know what it is" Cas said, she turned around and looked at Cas. She saw the problem right away, "oh Cas, it's okay, it's just an erection, it means you're aroused" she said. "Oh, how do I get rid of it" he said, "well there are a few ways, you can take a cold shower, or you can masturbate or you can have sex" she said. "Angels don't take showers and I don't know what masturbate means, Y/n will you please have sex with me" Cas said. Once the shock went off and she thought about it a second, "yes Cas I'll have sex with you" she said. As soon as he heard the words he snapped his fingers and they were both naked. "Wow Cas that was sexy as hell" she said, "I don't know what to do next" he said. "Well we start with foreplay and don't worry I'll show you" she said. Y/n straddled him and gently kiss his lips and she grabbed his hands and put them on her breasts. "Massage them like this" she taught him how to massage her breasts. She put her lips on his and he opened his mouth, she slid her tongue in and he froze, "it's ok just follow my lead" she said. Once she was ready to go her hands gripped his cock and stroked it before pumping. She positioned him with her and ran his cock through her slick folds and she was about to put it in when he looked at her with big concerned eyes​ "wait you're sticking that where" he said. "Just trust me Cas, it won't hurt" she said. She slid herself down on his cock they both moaned at the contact. She took his hands and put them on her hips she moved back and forth on his cock. "Y/n you feel so good on my penis" Cas said, "your so big Cas, oh my God" she said. She started moving up and down on his cock hitting a new angle and she felt her release building and his cock clenching. She again took his hand and put it between them and she help him find her clit, "rub circles like this" sh said showing him. A second later her orgasm ripped through her "yes, Cas, fuck yes" she screamed. Her pussy clenched around his cock and he came inside her with a growl. "That was amazing Y/n, thank you" he said, "no thank Cas" she said. He zapped them clean and dressed, "Y/n I've been in love with you since I met you, will you be my girlfriend" he said. "Yes Cas of course I will" she said, "that means we can do that again" he said. "Yes Cas, anytime you'd like" she she said, "how about right now" he said. "As soon as we get to my room" she said and with a snap of his fingers they were in her room, on her bed and naked.

Tags

@just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @twdjunkie2 @bulletscrossbowpie @cenagirlsrda @beachballsizeladyballs @deanjensengirlmaggie @attackdogcas @plaidstiel-wormstache @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

[laurazepamwrites]

The Chemicals between us ~Ch.7

‘You’re serious? You're not fucking with me are ya Old lady?’

‘I can assure you Jamison that I am completely serious. You and Rutledge are both assigned for our next mission..should you choose to accept.’

Ana sat and watched patiently as the Junker let out a whoop of delight and began racing around his quarters, grabbing whatever might be useful without even knowing what he was doing and where he was going and throwing it into a duffle bag. His mouth was racing as fast as he was moving and in his excitement jumped on Roadhog a couple of times.

‘Gonna be like this for awhile..’ Roadhog warned her.

‘Just as well, briefing is not till tomorrow morning, but I am here to discuss privately with you both about what is needed..and expected.’

Her tone made Junkrat finally slow down, his arms full of assorted wires which trailed to the floor as he cautiously peered at her. Ana smiled lightly and folded her hands in front of her. ‘There was of course some disagreement to you joining us on this mission. Good points were made on both sides but ultimately the decision to let you come was made. It seems a skill for destruction would be most beneficial to us if used correctly.’

Junkrat giggled, ‘Trust be lady, much more of me would be missing if I didn't handle explosives correctly. You just tell me who or what needs blowing up.’

‘There is a compound outside a small town in Russia. We know Talon are using it for storage of some kind. Weapons we expect. Once we have cleared out what guards they have and find any useful information then the building and its contents need to be destroyed.’

Junkrat made a dramatic sigh and slouched lower into his chair. ‘Issat all? Fuck, give me a challenge why don't ya?’

Ana narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Don't be cocky, the last time you met Talon your friend was injured. There will be more guards, more guns, even Mechs. We need your complete cooperation on this Fawkes.’

‘Yeah yeah, I’ll do what I’m-’

Ana held up a hand to silence him, mildly surprising Roadhog when he did keep his mouth shut, her warm expression had gone, now she was talking to him like a Captain.

‘Commander Morrison was against you coming and he was not the only one. You are used to working alone but here we work as a team, If you do  anything to jeopardize the mission or us then it will not be Morrison or Talon you need to fear, and if you even consider running then know this; I may only have one eye but my aim is still deadly, and I have something much worse than a sleep dart.’ She leaned closer towards him. ‘Are we clear Fawkes?’

Junkrat made a frightful glance towards Roadhog before gulping and nodding his head vigorously. Ana also turned to look at him, fixing him with her gaze until he too nodded in agreement, and with that the sweet old lady was back as Ana smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. ‘Wonderful! Well then gentlemen, I shall see myself out, be sure to be at briefing at nine am sharp, It will not do to be late. Goodnight!’ She closed the door behind her leaving the room with a few seconds of silence before Junkrat broke it.

‘Wouldn't fuck with her mate..’

He only grunted in reply. The one man apocalypse refusing to agree that an over sixty year old woman with one eye just made him feel like a ten year old child.

          ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘You cannot be serious?’ Asked Fareeha.

‘Do you see me laughing Fareeha?’  Morrison replied wearily

‘Mom! You can't expect two Junkers to undertake missions!’

Junkrat choked on his coffee, ‘ Cough!  Fuck! Fuck..sorry.  Cough!  First; none taken Birdy. Second; Shes your mum!?’

Fareeha ignored him, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated manner.

‘The decision is final, and not for debate.’ Ana’s reply was curt.

‘I think it's a great idea!’ Hana chipped in cheerfully.

Junkrat pointed at her. ‘See? Lil Sheila gets it!’ He flashed a grin at her.

‘That's enough.’ Morrison raised his voice above them, sure enough the rooms attention settled on him. He brought up a satellite map of the Compound and surrounding area.

He sighed deeply, deciding for the millionth time in his mind if this was the right call.

‘Ok.’ He finally said. ‘This is how we play this out. We are outnumbered so communication and efficiency is key in this mission. Our first objective is to dispose of the perimeter guard.’ The map highlighted the perimeter. ‘This will be completed by Team A made up of myself, Tracer, Genji and McCree, once they are dealt with we rendezvous with Team B. Torbjorn and Winston will take down the gate and fence security with Athena's help. This may get messy here and if Athena can’t bypass their security then we storm the gate. Either way Team A and B both access the gate together and for god's sake stay close to Reinhardt's shield. Once those gates are breached Team B enter, you're the heavy hitters. Take out as many as you can whilst Team A flank. Hana I want you and Fareeha focusing fire on their Mechs. Once the courtyard is clear Team B head into the compound whilst Team A flush out the outer buildings. Look for anything that might be useful. Im talking files, security footage, anything that may give us a lead. In the meantime Fawkes will rig the place. Once we have everything we need we clear the area and rendezvous at the Orca, the compound goes down once we are airborne. Questions?’.

‘What if backup arrives?’ McCree asked.

‘It really shouldn't, not until we are long gone. Talon should have no idea we are going there.’ Ana replied.

Lena raised her hand. ‘When do we commence the operation?’

‘In two days. We’ll be arriving outside Bryansk at approximately four am, we’ll meet up with Genji and Zarya. The perimeter guard has a round at six am sharp. That's when Team A strike.’ Morrison replied.

Junkrat raised a metal hand. ‘Question mate.’

‘What is it?’

‘So, right, you want me to blow this place sky high yeah? With what exactly? I haven't been allowed near any of my gear or whatever good stuff you have. Happen to have any bombs lying around the place or what?’

It was Winston who answered. ‘Commander Morrison, Captain Amari and myself have already discussed this. You have permission to work on explosives suitable for the mission in a designated area in the watchpoint, just make a list of what supplies you will need and Torbjorn will try and accommodate you.’

‘You saying I get me own workshop?’

‘We’re saying you get a place where if a bomb goes off you don't bring down the whole watchpoint with you.’ Interjected Morrison.

‘ Pfft! Unlikely but whatever..’

Morrison sighed. ‘How long will it take you to rig the building?’

Junkrat stood up and leaned closer to the compound map, he furrowed his eyebrows and chewed his lip as he studied the building, eventually slouching back into his chair.

‘Gonna be two hours tops mate..’

‘Really? That long?’

‘Oh, oh yeah sure i'll rush it shall I? Look mate, you want it done right and it's getting done right. I need at least eight explosives to bring down a building that size and one fuck up and we go down with it. I can maybe speed things up if they have a gas supply or generator I can use to accelerate the blast.’

‘Er..actually I think there is a main power supply which luck would have it is right next to the main building.` Said Winston.

‘That’ll do it, ta very much.’

Morrison stood up. ‘Very well, Fawkes. Go make your list and get to work. Everyone else prepare and have the workshop make sure your weapons and armor are good to go. Winston, prepare Athena as much as you can. Everyone dismissed.’

Hana immediately grabbed Junkrat's arm, bouncing slightly in excitement 'This is gonna be awesome! We haven't struck at Talon this hard before. They won't know whats hit them with you two on board.’

Junkrat was just as enthusiastic. 'I'm getting off this rock! Im gonna blow shit up and im getting off this fucking rock!’

Hana grinned up at Roadhog. ‘Hope you're feeling better big guy, would hate if you got wiped out before we even get going!’

Roadhog tilted his head at her and contemplated the young woman smiling broadly at him, eventually he gave her a nod. Satisfied she turned her attention back to Junkrat.

‘C'mon let's go find Lu and get some breakfast.’

Roadhog watched them leave before deciding he should probably eat himself and slowly followed behind. ‘ Must be getting soft  .’ He thought to himself. ‘  Or that girl is a lot braver than she looks. ’

Mei left her quarters as the briefing adjourned. As she was not called to be present she knew once again she’d be left to babysit the watchpoint, not that she minded so much for this particular mission. It would be bloody most likely and her skills did not lie in combat however she could help with shutting down the defences..she could assist Winston with Athena, she could-

  ‘Oof!’  

‘Whoa! Morning Mei.’

In her thoughts Mei had turned the corner and had walked into Fareeha. ‘Sorry! Sorry Fareeha, guess i got a bit distracted.’

‘Its fine, don't worry about it’ Fareeha replied brightly. ‘To be honest that may have been my fault..briefing was..let's say, unexpected.’

‘Oh? Are you still going?’

‘Yeah I'm going..but guess who else? I have no Idea what the Commander and my Mother are thinking! To let those Junkers in on missions now? Its madness!’

Mei’s expression instantly darkened. ‘What?’

‘Right? How hard can it be to bring down a building? I don't trust them and I hope I’m wrong but-hey? Mei? Where are you going?’

Mei had hardly heard her, her temper had flared up with an added dose of jealousy and with this fueling her she was ready to let her feelings known to either Winston or Morrison. She saw Hana and Lucio leave the common room and decided to hang back a bit, she was in no mood for their cheerfulness. Once they had disappeared from view she continued down the hallway stopping by the common room door, her temper only made worse by its lone occupant and her new target.

Mei stormed into the room. ‘Ta me de! You're going? You?!’

Junkrat was sitting on the counter halfway through a first round of toast, the kettle was softly boiling behind him. ‘And a good morning to you too Frosty..’ He said with a mouthful of his breakfast.

‘How?  Why? Why you? You're a manic pyromaniac!’

‘Woke up on the passive aggressive side of the bed again I see.’

Mei smirked ‘I did not realize Overwatch were so desperate we now consider using Junkers..’

‘Don't mince your words will ya.’ He took another bite of toast. ‘Past the point of considering anyway, me and Hog are most definitely going.’

Mei glared at him and began to rather aggressively make herself a cup of tea whilst ignoring the smug smirk on his face as he watched her with amusement. She did not even want it but she did not want to give him the satisfaction of leaving even more. She tutted at him ‘Could you move? You’re blocking the kettle.’

He sighed and jumped down from the counter ‘I love our little talks..’

‘Really? Because I don't.’

‘Not so fluent in sarcasm are ya?’

‘ Hmph! Well you know what they say, it's the lowest form of wit.’

Junkrat laughed ‘Know who said that Frosty? People with no sense of humor.’

‘Well just because I find yours to be immature does not mean I don't have one!’

‘Oh do you? Has anyone actually seen the mythical creature that is your sense of humor?’

Mei slammed the spoon she was about to stir her tea with hard on the counter ‘Why do you always have to be such a Jerk?’

‘I was minding me own fucking business and you come in here yelling at me for something I had no say in! Fucking go moan at Morrison or better yet Torb since it was his fucking idea! Christ woman…’

He was right of course, although it suited him greatly it was ultimately the decision of the Commander and Captain. Not wanting to apologise and with nothing else to say she silently stirred her cup of tea, only looking up when fresh toast popped up from the Toaster.

‘Look Frosty.’ Said Junkrat as he reached behind her and took his second round of toast. ‘I get you feel shitty, really. It fucking sucks and I get that you feel even shittier about me cos youre actually Overwatch and I’m whatever unsavoury name you wanna call me. So I reckon you use some of that attitude you save especially for me and go confront Old man winter or the Monkey yeah? Ask em to send you out.’

She blinked at him in surprise not expecting him to show any sign of understanding how she felt, he flashed a grin at her and took a bite of his toast as he began to leave. She felt a pang of guilt for being so rude to him. ‘I was going to..erm..maybe I was rather..’

Junkrat interrupted her, turning around and walking backwards with his mouth still full. ‘Who better to give the weather forecast eh?’

‘ Gah!  Thats not what-! I hope your mission sucks!’

He flashed a grin and winked at her. ‘Not really the team spirit but its so sweet you’ll be thinking of me!’

Mei glared at the now empty space and blew on her tea only to grimace when she took a sip. After all that she had forgotten to put the teabag in.

[samslostshoe-deansbaby-blog]

Bullet Holes - Dean x Reader feat Sam

Supernatural Drabble

Part Of: Ana’s Shit my patients say challenge

Prompts: Oh that’s been there for years but it’s fine just don’t touch it. & I swear I didn’t know that was in there.

Warnings: blood, talk of being shot, language and nudity

Sam drove into the emergency room patient drop off, Dean jumped out of the car and opened the backdoor and pulled Y/n out. Dean carried her inside, "she needs help, she was shot" he said. "I'm fine Dean, the bullet just grazed me" she said, "we don't know where Cas is, we're gonna have you checked out" Dean said. They took her back to check her out, Dean went with her. The doctor checked out her bullet wound, "how did this happen" the doctor said, "hunting accident, some dumbass trying to shoot a deer hit my wife instead" Dean said. "It's just gonna need a few stitches" she said. "I told you Dean, in fine" Y/n said, the doctor was rubbing around Y/n's chest and stomach. The doctor stopped at the top of her hip, "Y/n what's this right here" the doctor said. "Oh, that's been there for years but it's fine, just don't touch it" Y/n said, the doctor gave her this are you nuts look. The nurse came in and put Y/n's stitches in, "okay, you're all done" the nurse said. The nurse picked up Y/n's clothes to hand them to her and a gun fell out and hit the floor. "I swear I didn't know that was in there" Y/n said, "okay time go" Dean said. Dean picked up his wife and carried her out of the room and went to the waiting room. "Sammy, get the car time to go" Dean said, Sam got up and ran outside. "You okay, Y/n" Sam said, "my gun fell out of my pants" she said.

Tags @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @bulletscrossbowpie @beachballsizeladyballs @deanjensengirlmaggie @twdjunkie2 @cenagirlsrda

[thedepthsremember]

TRR 3.20 "A Warm Reception" what does that mean. does that mean FIRE i am on edge

I'm expecting it to go all nice and heartwarming, and then Anton shows up at the end. We shall see.

Officially longer than any other TRR book! We’re in uncharted territory now!

From what I saw from my roommate’s Liam playthrough, a lot of the carriage dialogue is mostly the same no matter who’s there, but, I do like this as a callback to awesome-storm Maxwell-Riley from the Homecoming ball, or Duke Whirlwind Dancemaster-Deluxe. With Maxwell, everyone keeps emphasizing how our lives together will be full of adventure and never be boring. ♥

You fools, take this chance to make out in the carriage! No! F O O L S 

Oh. Hello Ana! She’s got a new dress for us, of course. 

... Mehhhhh sorry not into that plasticy cutout look. Why do they keep doing that, it doesn't look like fabric. Sorry Ana, I’m gonna stick with what I've got. 

Maxwell says it doesn’t matter what Riley’s wearing, he and everyone else won’t be able to keep his eyes off her. :’) ♥ bro

Ana, a true friend (despite how I keep tossing out all her hard work) leaves us alone in the boutique. 

We are a storm... a hurricane… a mega punching robot... of love

sweet nervous boy. Riley literally said “I do” (well, ‘hell yeah’ in my case) and he’s still can’t help doubting a little. 

now makeouts?? nope, Madeline. Girl you are about to get stabbed. ANA, WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HER, I’M SORRY, I’LL WEAR THE DAMN DRESS

(If we keep trying and then getting interrupted, only to finally succeed I will actually love that.)

Oooooo the reception hall is so pretty! Damn, they have really been outdoing themselves with the art lately. First the cathedral, now this. *__*

People coming up to tell us how we made them cry out our vows! Yessss tell us all about your tears! Our love is powerful, baby.

Took no screenshots of Hana’s parents so I can ignore that they came. 

NEVILLE?! WHAT THE F. RASHAD, DID YOU BRING HIM. DUDE. YOUR FRIEND IS SHITTY AND NO ONE LIKES HIM, STOP BRINGING HIM PLACES. 

You know, at the beginning of the tour we heard Neville wasn't even planning on coming to the wedding so I guess that's........ ssssomethingg..g..........…

like maybe he’ll get shot this time. aim better, assassins 

Anyway, better people now! Hello friends! 

Hana says we were like a fairytale! Even Drake is getting poetic. Liam sees how much we love each other. Maxwell has won the wife lottery. Excellent, so much love here. 

LMAO....... SAVANNAH EYEING BERTRAND LIKE, HUH.... MARRIAGE..... HOW BOUT..... THAT...…. :|

Me and Maxwell, poster children for impulsivity: YEAH, JUST DO IT JUST JUMP INTO MARRIAGE IT'S GREAT

Bertrand : *SWEATS BUCKETS* 

Hgnngggg I would stab a man for that wedding food right now. I picked Drake’s beef pork stew and oh my god...……. How do they always make it sound so good??? 

[pause to google feijoada recipe]

Time for toasts! Maxwell’s...….. awwww. ;___; 

He starts it as a Once Upon A Time story of how Riley was whisked away to love a prince, but her happy ending was swapped when she fell for the court jester instead. 

(Flashing back to the apple festival and Maxwell being excited to be jester. Good times.) 

My heart is bursting. I love our story too T_T 

Andddd he just blurts out about the hippo tattoo to everyone and covers it up with an awkward metaphor. That's a deeply Maxwell moment and I love it. ♥ 

Omg. Might regret it but I desperately want to hear Olivia's idea of a wedding toast.

EXCUSE YOU MADELINE, SCHEDULE SMEDULE. THE BRIDE DEMANDS TO HEAR EVERYONE RAPTURE ABOUT OUR LOVE

Olivia:  So soon after I met Riley I was like "I hate that bitch" Riley: a-awwww....thanks...…… 

I'M DEAD "LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT" I WON OLIVIA’S RESPECT! :’D BEST DAY EVERRR

I mean we also got married but like. you get it. 

“As we say in Lythikos, you’re still alive, so drink!” never change. 

Liam: Aww...…. He tries but falls back on being super formal, referring to me as "Cordonia’s newest dutchess” and me “being a friend to Cordonia and [him]”

It's ok buddy, sneak out whenever you're ready. Hana and Drake can cover for you.

Hana: Hana wins the toast both for having the most insightful things to say, and also being LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE (besides Bertrand) TO TALK ABOUT MAXWELL. She also made me cry, so like, triple points. 😢 😭 I love her so muuuuch.

Drake: “I knew you were trouble when you walked innnn~” 

Those were some real nice things you said about me but YOU ARE THE BEST MAN. 

I know I'm great and we're all in love with me, but come on. 

Alright here’s Bertrand, he’s gotta talk about Maxwell. 

new big bro you will be NICE to your BROTHER or I STG

starting out rocky what with the “wow Maxwell made like so many mistakes” business. let him rest, it’s his day, good lord 

*snaps fingers in front of his face* BABS, FOCUS

OH. OH OKAY. HE TURNED IT AROUND. HE SAID HE LOVES HIS BROTHER IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. THE DANCING COMMENT AND EVERYTHING AND HE ADMITTED MAXWELL DOESN'T NEED TO GROW UP. I'M. OVERWHELMED. 

In which I will take any choice that turns Riley into a woo girl. And Kiara’s family continues to be my favorite. They’re coming over to Valtoria Revanasi all the time. 

After all that, my toast was … whelming. I did get my vows already, so I guess it’s whatever. 

First dance time! Aww this track is giving me HSS prom flashbacks. Michael I hope you're happy out there.

Apparently Maxwell picked the song, which can only mean he is a secret HSS fan. 

“Partners” is such a lovely title for these two. I've always loved the term, you're partners in crime, partners for life, but they're also dance partners.  

Number of times Maxwell has done the dip kiss: 4. This boy SMOOTH AS HECK. 

Bertrand is scandalized by our nonsense but Drake understands they should take what they can get.

(where are my boy’s damn jello shots) 

..... I think I just married Emperor Kuzco. 

Maxwell challenges Drake to a dance off, and holy shit Drake can dance. Or at least spin kick. I'm still fairly certain he has no sense of rhythm. 

....Drake did not dispute the best friend comment and I'm counting that as a win for Maxwell. 

time. for. CAKE????! 

Real life me is a little sad I don’t have cake. I do have fancy rice crispies from my friend’s coworker’s wedding. It’s no passionfruit cake tho :’( 

(they successfully distracted me from wait where’s Olivia with cake. How dare you take advantage of my short attention span.)

Maxwell and Riley have matching swords. I might cry. That's the best.

..... Incredibly tempting to fuck up and cut the table. But OUR CAKE ok doing this right. 

WHOA Bastien hello, where'd you come from.

Aww Madeline has pleased her goblin father.

Maxwell is so happy about the Cheetah cake SUCCESSSSSS [sneakily high fives Gladys]

[I hope Gladys gets cake. At least 3 slices for Gladys.]

Ooooh so Savannah and Drake's mom still came! She’s off taking care of Bertie. Bring forth the Walker matriarch, I wish to meet her. [ spoilers: we do not :( ]

Uh oh Savannah is pissed and I bet I know why~

Bertrand's only just noticed oh dear.

Savannahhhhhh pleeassssse. These two need to work on commutation so bad. I TOLD YOU TO BE DIRECT WITH THIS DUMBASS. YOU'RE STILL HINTING. 

Bride awkwardly hovers outside her own reception trying to get her fool friends to communicate AGAIN.

Like I'm pretty patient and Bertrand is family but oh my god I can't be there for everything

Riley is tired too, bless her. We could totally have snuck off with Maxwell at this point but no, here we are. 

Ok Riley's prize for taking the diamond option to help Bertrand one more time is that she gets to cause shenanigans. You know my girl loves a good shenanigan! 

Oh my god are we getting the band back together YESSSSS

Stop one: Drake. He knows Riley by this point and senses shenanigans a mile away. 

Drake: You don't need my permission, Savannah’s her own woman and all that.  Bertrand: But I'd like it. Drake: ok then FUCK NO. Bertrand: :’O

Bertrand making the shocked face is always funny. Same with his mad face. Really just Bertrand emoting = comedy gold.  

Drake fully won Maxwell's respect with the breakdancing, and he's won Riley's by realizing he has the power to make Bertrand do whatever he wants right now. 

Drake immediately regrets his abuse of power. Aaahaha ok, ease into it.

Somehow we talked Drake into singing. I'm just saying, this would have been so much easier with him last, when peer pressure was on the table.

Maxwell has been waiting for a moment like this moment his entire life, he'd pay to be part of this.

Liam would both do anything I asked and is always down for bromance time.

There is an option to panic and throw the bouquet at Neville. I have to try that at least once. But later. 

Man Riley should have demanded the boys reunite their quartet anyway. BEST WEDDING PRESENT EVERRRRR (after all their other gifts because those were actually really sweet)

Savannah: holy crap you're smiling  Bertrand: Well you make me happy so fukkin get used to it 

^Those are totally direct quotes. 

While I’m making other people happy - TIME FOR GIFTS! 

The book for Liam is a nice follow up to all his talk about how he wants to bring Cordonia peace. You’ve got faith that he can achieve his dreams! Aww.

Everyone else does surprised sprites but Drake is wary as ever. Smart dude.

Hana's gift............... Ok yeah let’s just...… move along. sigh. 

At least Riley succeeded through the roof with Maxwell’s gift, he was about to pass out with all the layers this gift has. Aww, that was so worth it. 

Honestly these were all kind of short. Meh. Maxwell’s was worth it, Liam’s was a nice second. 

Finally can we sneak off--??

MADELINE.............. I WILL STAB YOU WITH MAXWELL’S FANCY ACTION FIGURE, DON'T THINK I WON'T 

Time to see other friends! We go to Kiara first, which is good. I continue to be proud of her forever. 

Penelope is me at every party. Where are the dogs. I can people watch just fine next to the dogs.

HOOOOLY SHIT

DANIEL

D A N I E L

DANIEL IS HERE, TAKING SHOTS WITH LEO

What do you know :D I have friends! Well. One friend. And no family. They’re really determined to leave that open, huh. You know, I’m okay with it. 

Daniel, I admire your thrift, especially considering what it must have cost to come here on a waiter’s salary, but someone is definitely going to think you're here to serve food.

..... Whelp that came true immediately. Hey Regina. 

Leo goes off with him. I guess they're bros now! 

or .... well. I've seen the posts going around. Make this a trip to remember, Leo! ;) 

Awwww nice moment with Regina. Look how far we’ve come!  I've always liked her. She's a practical lady. 

GLADYS

GLADYS IS HERE TO LET US GET ALONE TIME, FINALLY. BLESS YOU GLADYS, I COULD KISS YOU but that’s for Maxwell 

Wait...... I'm getting suspicious. We're just. wandering away......… mmm :|

oh noOOOOOOOOOOooo--[all goes dark]

Aw mannnnnnnn Gladys D: Riley is never trusting anyone in this broke-ass country again. Remember how we kept talking about how in New York you can trust people to be upfront with their intentions???? 

[throws Daniel and Hana into a suitcase] COME ON MAXWELL, WE’RE MOVING BACK TO NEW YORK. 

IS THAT SOMEONE ANTON, GLADYS

:’((((((((((((

I’m so sad, I liked her. I hope we can still win her back to our side. She seemed so surprised every time we treated her decently, I think there’s a chance. She probably got into this plot before she got to know us. 

Things we know: 

Liam is the only LI who doesn’t meet you in the hedge maze if you’re his LI. On the one hand, getting the king to sneak out is a whole nother level, but also he’s likely to have a big part in next week’s plot. 

The poor guy is also still definitely in love with you, even if you softened the blow with the closure option. And he’s especially taking it hard if you’re with Drake. We’ll see how those things go together. 

Olivia disappeared! Before cake. For their plot to work, they still need her around to make her queen. She’s loyal to Liam no matter what, but I’m still holding out hope that befriending her or not is going to play a part whether that loyalty extends completely to you. 

She was also our strongest defense, what with all her knives and proclivity for stabbing. So Olivia is likely to be okay, but who knows if they will be. 

Do they have our friends? We didn’t see them after gifts. concern.

what do you think? 2 more chapters? Wrap up evil plots and then have good things, hopefully? or just keep adding chapters and then it doesn’t have to end hahaaaa 

[rizlowwritessortof]

A Matter of... Time?

This piece of work - not quite sure what to call it, a little crack-ish maybe? was written for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge! (Ana, I made it!!!) My quote is in bold, and - of course - I chose Dean. And it was a challenge, I really struggled with this, but I also had a lot of fun!

Thank you to @mrs-squirrel-chester  for being the bestest beta ever, I love you to PIECES 😘  

You groaned as you opened your eyes, the sun blinding you. Something... something large, alive and breathing, was pushing against your face, and you held your breath for a moment before it snorted and sent you skittering backward in a panic. You raised your eyes to see a white stallion, who proceeded to paw politely at the ground, tossing his head a little as if to greet you.

You fought to disentangle your feet from the... skirts? You looked down at yourself and your mouth opened in shock as you tried to absorb what you were seeing. You were wearing some kind of fancy silk gown, yards and yards of frothy cloth tangled around your legs. And then it dawned on you. “Dean? Dean! Are you all right?”

A loud moan was all you received in answer, and then, “What the... Y/N? What the hell is going on?” You finally managed to bunch your skirts up enough to stand, turning towards the direction of the noise, Dean's cursing and some sort of clanking and banging of metal.

Oh, shit. “Dean! Why are you wearing a suit of armor?”

“Well, I don't fucking know, but I could use a little help here!”

***

“What?” Dean was looking at you as if he expected an answer. Apparently you had made a noise as you were reading, disgusted.

“People are just… how can someone just randomly… Okay, this guy, just trying to spend some peaceful time in the hills, hiking and camping, all by himself, not bothering anybody. Just doing his thing. And someone beat him half to death. In the middle of the woods somewhere!” You looked at Dean, frustrated. “I wish we could just take over for a while. Just line the assholes up and shoot them or something. Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?”

Dean smiled wryly, hanging his head a little as he shook it. “Umm… no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.” He looked at you again. “Robbery? Gang thing?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get that far.” You went back to the article, from the Rapid City Journal, and Dean watched your face as your eyes widened. “Oh.”

“What, oh?”

“That’s why it popped on my search filter. All sorts of weird.”

“Our kind of weird?”

“Maybe. I think we’re heading to South Dakota.”

***

“Are we sure this guy isn’t just looney-tunes?”

You couldn’t help the smile that teased at your lips as Sam berated his brother. “Dean, you might at least want to make an attempt at not being completely rude.”

“The guy says he got sent back in time, come on.”

You laughed softly. “Dean, you got sent back in time – remember? And into the future!”

“Yeah, well – that was angels. They aren’t so much overly involved down here any more. They never just randomly sent people back, anyway. And we killed Chronos, the god of time. So – that leaves crazy. Or something that causes crazy.”

“Or something we don’t know about yet, Dean. Just – try to keep an open mind, okay?” Sam sighed as Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… open mind. Goes both ways, Sammy. You might have to accept that the guy’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Hey, you two,” you interjected from the back seat. “Are you gonna argue the entire trip? Because if you are, I’ll get my headphones out.”

After getting settled at a local motel in Rapid City, Dean drove you to the Regional Behavioral Health Center. You headed inside, playing the part of a family member visiting, while Sam and Dean left to check out local law enforcement. Your heels echoed in the empty hall as you walked to the nurses’ station, waiting patiently for someone to acknowledge your presence.

“May I help you?” You smiled as you turned to face the woman behind you, laden with an armful of files.

“Yes. Yes, I’m here to visit my cousin, Darrel. Darrel Easom? He was checked in a couple of days ago.”

She smiled and made her way behind the desk, plopping the paperwork down and sitting behind the computer. “Let me just get his room number for you, it’ll take just a moment.”

You paused outside the door, which was open just a crack. With a deep breath, you knocked and peeked your head in. “Darrel?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tired, raspy, and you entered, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Hi, Darrel. I’m Y/N.” You smiled and approached the bed, skillfully hiding your shock at his appearance. The man was in a cast shoulder to wrist, a bar holding his arm at an angle, and his face was bruised and swollen, stitches over one eye and beneath the other. “I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened to you last weekend.”

He rolled his eyes as best he could and sighed. “So you can add your signature to the pile that says I’m crazy? Sure, go ahead.”

“I’m not here to judge, Darrel. My colleagues and I are studying supernatural phenomena, and your story is just one of several that we’re researching. I’d just like to try and find out what happened to you.” He looked at you, still doubtful, but finally nodded.

“So – who did this to you?”

He stared up at you, his expression defensive, but you met his gaze steadily. “Fine. You wanna know who did this to me? I’ll tell you.” His jaw worked, and you saw a hint of fear in his eyes before he looked away, staring straight ahead. “Vikings.”

***

“Vikings?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their incredulous reaction. “Yeah. Vikings. And just wait.” You pulled your phone from your bag, along with the cord, and Dean laughed.

“What, you’re gonna call them?” You just grinned back at him, opening the laptop on the table in front of you and connecting the cord.

“He got video on his phone. Not much, and it’s not super clear, but he managed to cram his phone into his pocket before they beat the shit out of him.” You loaded the video clip that Darrel had reluctantly sent to you and pulled it up on the larger screen, hitting play as the boys crowded in behind you to watch.

The footage was a blur of bearded angry men, swords and garbled shouts, fur and chain mail and bloodied faces. You watched several times, finally shutting it off and turning to face Sam and Dean. “How the hell… how does this happen?”

“Did he… go there? Or did they come here?”

You scrunched your brow at Sam’s question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – did he really time-travel? Was he in a strange place, or did something bring the Vikings to where he was?”

“He said he was hiking in the hills, lots of trees. He was on the phone to his sister, made some comment to her about being ‘close to nature,’ that it made him feel like he was wild and free – like a Viking. Said he’d been watching the TV series, so it just popped into his head. Then he said he felt weird, kind of dizzy, and heard strange sounds, like waves crashing on the shore. When his vision cleared, he said he was on a dark, stormy beach, and then – Vikings.”

“So… trickster? Cursed object?” Dean offered, shrugging.

You leaned back in the chair, looking up at Dean as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. I told Darrel there might be someone coming with a few more questions. Oh, and I managed to get his address from the nurses’ station.”

“Nice,” Dean grinned, giving your shoulder a squeeze, and you blushed a little.

“I could go back, talk to him, see if we can figure out if it was the area he was in or something he was carrying with him. If you guys want to go check out his place?” Sam offered as Dean backed up, giving you room to stand as you both nodded in agreement. You grabbed your duffle and closed yourself in the bathroom to change out of the suit and heels you’d worn to the Center.

After dropping Sam off, you and Dean set off for Darrel’s apartment a few blocks away. Dean’s voice startled you from your thoughts, and you looked towards him, unsure of what he had said. “Huh?”

“Are you okay? I mean, you’ve been kinda out of it for a couple of days now. Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No! No, of course not. I’m just...” you stammered. He hadn’t done anything. Well, no more than normal. Maybe it was the dream you’d had about him a couple of nights ago that had jolted you awake with the sound of your own voice moaning his name.  You closed your eyes for a moment, shoving the thoughts and feelings about that whole subject way down deep, forcing your mind to focus on the case, on Darrel Easom. The poor guy had looked confused, terrified about what had happened to him, and you needed to stop it from happening to someone else. “Really, Dean – there’s nothing wrong. I promise.”

Dean shot you a doubtful sideways glance, but stopped questioning you – at least for the time being. He pulled up and parked in front of a dilapidated old building, and the two of you headed into the front entrance.

“He’s fourth floor - #42,” you said, and Dean looked up the stairway.

“Of course he is,” he grumbled, and you both made your way up the creaking staircase, heaving a sigh of relief when you reached the fourth floor.  

It wasn’t hard to find Darrel’s camping equipment. His sister had dropped everything off, it sat in a pile right next to the door. “Careful,” you cautioned as Dean began to open the backpack. “Maybe we should, I don’t know, wear gloves or something?”

“Not sure that would help. I’m gonna try to just see what’s in there, not touch anything.” He turned the beam of his small flashlight to the inside of the bag, and you leaned in to look with him.

“Cursed granola bars, maybe?” you joked, and Dean smiled. “Maybe we should just take this back to the motel?”

“Yeah. Maybe Sam will have more information. Let’s go.”

You locked the apartment on your way out and led the way down the stairs, leaving Dean to carry Darrel’s backpack. As you turned to head down the second set of steps, you caught your foot on a loose board, and you cried out as you pitched forward.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted, grabbing for one flailing arm and yanking you, a little painfully, back to your feet beside him. “Shit, you okay?”

“That was too close. Not the way I want to die,” you managed to puff out, your heart pounding in your chest. You looked up at Dean’s concerned face and smiled. “My knight in shining armor.”

A strange, intense pressure built around you, seeming to suck all the air from your body and leaving you dizzy, your vision going dark as you and Dean cried out to each other. Then nothing, darkness and oblivion.

***

“This is your fault!” He was struggling to stand, sounding like a bag of tin cans had been dropped down a flight of stairs, and you reached to help him clumsily rise to his feet. He was encased in a full suit of armor, minus the helmet, which laid a few yards away.

“How is this my fault?” You looked at him, incredulous, trying not to smile as he gestured to his metal garb.

“Knight in shining armor? Ring any bells?”

“Like I wanted this to happen? Have you looked at me? Did I wish to be Princess Floofy Dress?”

His eyes focused on you for the first time, lingering over your squeezed and squashed and almost completely exposed breasts. “I might have wished for it if I’d known what the costume looked like,” he said, eyebrows raised, and you smacked his shoulder, wincing at the impact.

“Ouch. Asshole.” You looked around, hands on hips, trying to ignore Dean’s drooling over your bosom. “So – now what?”

“I got nothin’.”

“Well, obviously the cursed object is in the backpack, right?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean snarked back, and the air-sucking, dizzying feeling was back instantly, spinning you into a black abyss as you grabbed frantically for Dean’s gauntlet.

***

You opened your eyes to see hideous carpet beneath your feet, and raised them to see even more hideous wallpaper. “Dean?” you said softly, and he squeezed your hand.

“Right here.”

“Interesting.” A voice you’d never heard before startled you into turning, and your eyes widened as you saw before you none other than Sherlock Holmes, pipe in hand, staring quizzically back at you.

You turned your head to look at Dean, eyes scanning over his brown tweed suit. “This one’s on you, Winchester.”

“Watson, we seem to have visitors,” Holmes called out, and you watched, mouth open, as a shorter, stockier man entered the room.

“Oh, didn’t even hear a knock.”

“Well, that’s because they didn’t knock. Just sort of – appeared. Strange indeed.”

You turned back to stare at Holmes, bewildered. “But – you’re fictional.”

The famous detective sniffed, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “Well – where does that leave you, then?”

Dean grabbed your arm, leaning to whisper into your ear. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

You smiled uncomfortably at the fictional characters in front of you. “Excuse us for a moment.” You let Dean pull you towards the door and out into the hall, closing the door behind you.

“This is not a time travel thing. This is a – fucked-up librarian curse or something. What the hell?” His eyes scanned over your form-fitting Victorian gown, then back up to meet your gaze.

“I don’t know. And I have no idea how to get back home. Dean, I’m scared.” You felt a little clutch of panic in your belly, and Dean readjusted Darrel’s backpack on his shoulder, reaching for your hand.

“It’s been taking us places that we say a phrase about, right? We just need to figure out what phrase gets us back home.” He frowned, glaring at you. “And don’t say that one, I don’t wanna go to Oz.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, nodding in agreement. “Okay. Well, I’m open for suggestions.”

You jumped as the door jerked open, Sherlock’s face appearing in the space. “I thought you’d never ask.” He waved you back inside, and you perched on the edge of the sofa, your leg jumping nervously as Dean sat next to you, giving your hand a squeeze.  “So, your story is that you say a phrase, and then you’re transported to whatever setting that invokes?”

“That’s the only thing we can figure. We think we’ve got a cursed object in this backpack.” Dean stared at Sherlock as he pursed his lips, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

“Very interesting.” He stood suddenly, speaking brusquely to Dean. “Come, Mr….”

“Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester, come with me.” Dean shouldered the backpack and moved to join him as you stood up to follow, but the detective shook his head. “Stay here where it’s safe. Relatively, at any rate, since we don’t really know what’s triggering these – little excursions.”

You stopped, disbelief on your face, hands on your hips.

Dean held up a hand. “Now, Y/N, don’t get all bent outta shape. At least if something happens and I – time warp, or whatever – again, you’ll be safe here and I’ll know where to find you.”

“Listen, Dean, don’t go all ‘Me, Tarzan – you, Jane’ on me!” Your raised voice sounded hollow at the end, echoing, and Dean rushed towards you, panic on his face, as the room began to blur.

“Damn it!” he shouted, and you felt him grab your arm before total blackout hit.

***

Your eyesight gradually cleared, along with the dizziness, and you slowly opened your eyes. It was  warm, no – scratch that, hot – and humid, and you could see nothing but leaves overhead. “Dean? Dean, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay.” You sat up slowly, your jaw dropping open as you saw him.

“Oh, my God.”

“Shut up!” He was pissed off, glaring at you, and as close to naked as you’d ever seen him. Your mouth went a little dry as you finally forced your eyes upward to meet his. “If you say one word, I swear to God...” he almost growled, and you try to stop staring.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Dean, I didn’t...”

“Didn’t mean to time machine us to the jungle and put me in a fucking loincloth? Yeah, I get that.”  He turned his back, and you glanced around. You were in a tree house of some sort, a pretty nice one, actually. You let your eyes move back to what they really wanted to look at. Dean’s hair was long and shaggy, almost like Sam’s, and he was clothed in nothing but a loincloth made from some kind of animal skin. He was barefoot, his strong legs, back and shoulders tan and freckled and… He whirled around, fury contorting his features, and you dropped your gaze immediately.

And you – you were wearing another stupid Victorian-style dress, but this one was well-ventilated, torn and ragged from whatever disaster had put you here, you’d guess. You stood up, brushing leaves from your clothes, just taking a breath to speak when Dean moved towards you suddenly. You flinched back from the murderous expression on his face, his eyes narrowed, as he reached around you. After a flurry of motion, he yanked a huge snake from above and behind you, tossing it out of the tree. A small whimper escaped your lips as you stood there in shock, then closed your eyes tight. “Thank you,” you managed, and you heard him blow out a breath.

“You okay?”

You were trembling, panic beginning to bubble inside you, defying your attempts at control. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we have to get out of here, Dean! Say anything, take us anywhere! I can’t...”

You felt his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, soothing. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out.”

You stood there accepting his comfort for a few moments, getting your feet back under you. When you started to notice your hands on his skin, the swell of muscle rippling in his back as he hugged you, you blew out a deep breath and stepped back, your hands moving to his chest. You could feel something prodding at your hip, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Please tell me you’re just happy to see me – because if that’s another snake, I’m running all the way to Cleveland.” You raised your eyes slowly to his face, and the smirk he was trying to smother won out.

“Yeah, sorry, this uh... loincloth thing doesn’t hide much.”

“I – um – noticed that.” You smiled up at him, loving the way he was blushing, and stepped back a little further, winking. “Maybe another time, Tarzan. Cheetah could be home any minute.” He snorted a little, and you giggled, but your smiles gradually faded. “Well, so much for the world’s greatest detective helping us. What are we gonna do, Dean?” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Hey. Come on, sweetheart, it’s not so bad. At least nobody’s tried to kill us yet, like Darrell, right? I mean we could be in a medieval torture dungeon somewhere.” He froze, your horrified eyes meeting his as you grabbed hold of each other’s arms. “Fuck.”

***

“Ow.” You groaned, rubbing the back of your head as you forced yourself to sit up and look around. You were on a filthy stone floor, littered with straw and dirt, bars caging you in. You gave yourself a quick glance to take in your ragged appearance, your clothing practically in tatters. Apparently you had hit your head on the floor when you landed, and you winced as you rubbed at it again. “Dean, are you all right?” you gritted out between your teeth as you rose to your feet. He grimaced with pain as he sat up, then looked up at you anxiously.

“Are you hurt? Shit, that landing sucked,” he rasped out as he climbed to his feet.

“I’m okay. Bump on the head.”

“Let me see,” he said gruffly, approaching you and turning you away from him, his fingers running over your skull.

“Ouch! Dean!”

“Damn it, hold still!” he scolded as he parted your hair, looking at the good-sized lump. “Wow, we’re lucky you didn’t need stitches. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m as okay as I can be, considering we’re behind bars and probably about to be tortured!” You turned to face him, your fear seeping through your anger, your lip trembling a little.

He didn’t answer you for a moment, just looked down at the floor, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N. Whatever happens, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He looked into your eyes, and you had to slide yours away, unable to face the intensity in his. “At least we’re in here together. We just need to figure out how to get back.”

“Yeah. That’s worked out really well so far.” You plopped down on the rough wooden bench that was fastened to the wall and put your face in your hands. Before you had the chance to speak again, he was beside you, an arm around you, and you laid over on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted beyond belief.

“Well, well, isn’t this sweet.” Your heart was suddenly in your throat as you looked up to see your jailer – at least, you assume that’s who he was – standing in front of the cell.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he stared defiantly at the filthy, leering man unlocking your cell door. “Yeah, we’re a little busy. Why don’t you make an appointment with the butler.”

The man grinned, flashing a mouthful of rotting, blackened teeth. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this. His Lordship’s got a few questions for you.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna answer?”

The man sneered in your direction, and you shrank back against Dean. “Well, I suppose we could start with her instead?”

Dean stood up, fists clenching. “You’ll start with me. And if I have anything to say about it, you’ll end with me, asshole.” He raised his chin, contempt in his eyes, and the guard’s smile, such as it was, faded.

“Move your arse, ya filth.” Dean turned to look at you one more time, his expression softening at the fear in your eyes.

“I’ll be back, sweetheart. Promise.”

“Then it’ll be your turn – sweetheart.” The foul bastard aimed his words at you, then shoved roughly at Dean as he marched him from the room. You sat there, stubbornly refusing to let the tears in your eyes overflow as you tried not to think about what they were going to do to Dean.

Time dragged by, and you busied yourself by searching your cell, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. You managed to wriggle an iron nail loose from the bench, but it was built to withstand prisoners much more hefty than you trying to break it apart. You slumped down, leaning your back against the wall as your brain spun in hopeless circles, trying to think of something that would get you home. Of course, the backpack containing the cursed object was now in your captor’s hands, which made things even worse, if that was possible.

You heard noises, some of them grunts of pain as the guard forced Dean back to the dungeon. As they came through the door, you rose to your feet, shocked, then furious as you saw him, his face and torso covered with cuts and bruises, caked with blood. Dean’s tormentor unlocked the door, shoving him roughly into the cell, where he collapsed as the iron bars swung shut once again. “Bastard!” you screamed at the man’s retreating back, and his laughter echoed back as he left without a word. “Dean! Oh, my god, Dean…” You ripped off a section of what used to be the skirt of your dress, going to your knees beside him on the floor. You helped him get his head to your lap, dabbing carefully at the blood oozing from his many wounds.

“I’m okay, Y/N,” he managed to whisper. He forced out a parched laugh. “These assholes got nothin’ on Alastair.”

“Oh, Dean… And we can’t even accidentally wish ourselves out of here, they’ve got the backpack.”

“Yeah. But now I know where it is. We just need to break out of here and get it, then we’ll pick somewhere nice and sunny, maybe a beach, someplace that serves cold drinks...”

“Can you get up? We should get you off the floor.” He looked up at you, a crooked smile lifting one side of his mouth, managing to look rakish in spite of his swollen right eye.

“Pretty comfy right here, actually.” You leaned down and kissed him gently, carefully, and when you lifted your head, you realized what you had done. Dean’s one open eye blinked slowly, fixed on you, and you shoved your hair out of your face, suddenly nervous.

“I have a nail.” You reached down into the top of your dress, where you had hidden it, and pulled it out to show him. “From the bench. Maybe we can pick the lock?”

Dean smiled, or winced, maybe both – it was hard to tell. “That’s my girl.”

After several minutes’ struggle, you had Dean sitting on the bench, propped up against the wall. You moved away from him reluctantly, wishing you could do more for his injuries. You began to work at the lock with your scavenged nail, difficult since it was just a hair too short, but as you were ready to drop to the floor in exhausted frustration, it gave with a loud click. “Dean,” you said softly, “it worked.”

He nodded, sending what passed for a smile your way, his face drawn and pale. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.” You opened the door slowly, sighing with relief when you could make your way through without much noise. You and Dean quickly searched for whatever you could use as weapons, but there wasn’t much to find. Dean had an iron bar of some kind, and you picked up a scrap of board, keeping your nail in your hand as well. “This way,” Dean whispered, and you followed, your heart pounding in your chest.

You made your way down a long, dark hall, the floor almost slimy beneath your feet, and you almost ran into Dean as he came to a sudden halt in front of you. He put his hand behind him, and you gave it a squeeze, following close behind as he crept forward. You could see the lone guard, slumped asleep in his chair, as you entered the room. Dean nodded towards the corner nearest you, and you moved slowly to where the backpack dangled from a hook in the wall. As you moved back to Dean, backpack in hand, the guard stirred, then jumped to his feet, shouting. “Help! Prisoners escaping!”

Dean reached for you, jerking you close, his arm tight around your waist. “No shit, Sherlock!” he yelled, and the confused guard faded into swirling black.

***

When your head stopped spinning, a bemused Dr. Watson was helping you from the floor. “Ah. Our visitors have returned.” He smiled a little stiffly at you as he helped you to the sofa, then turned to look at Dean. “Holmes is out at the moment. But you look as if you may need a little medical attention? May I… help?”

“I’m fine,” Dean answered as you said simultaneously, “Thank you!” Dean scowled at you, but you stared back at him, unflinching. “I wasn’t able to even clean his wounds, Dr. If you could help him...”

“Of course. Please, come with me, Mr…. Winchester, was it?”

You sat perched on the sofa, on the edge of exhaustion and despair. At least Dean had known how to get you to safety, but how the hell were you going to get home? You had no idea how long you sat there, deep in thought, before Dr. Watson’s voice startled you.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I just, umm – Mr. Winchester is resting in the bedroom, and he asked to see you. I did what I could for him, cleaned and bandaged the worst of his wounds. He’ll recover nicely, I assure you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Thank you so much.” He nodded a little self-consciously, smiling, and you stood. “I’ll just go check on him, then.”

“You should rest, too.”

You looked at the kind-hearted man over your shoulder, sending a grateful smile his way, then left the room. The bedroom was just down the hall, and you rapped quietly on the door before opening it and stepping inside. Dean was lying on the bed, bandages wrapped around his chest, belly and both arms. “This is ridiculous. If I was at home, I’d put in a few stitches and be done instead of walking around like a fucking mummy.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and his lips curved in spite of himself, even though he rolled his eyes. “Well, they just don’t have suture kits lying around like we do, Dean. At least you’re not gonna die of some nasty infection.” You sigh, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “He said I should get some rest. Mind if I join you? Maybe we’ll dream a way out of this mess.”

He patted the bed beside him. “Yeah, come on in. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

You nodded, then laid down next to him. “Me, too.” The last thing you remembered before drifting off was Dean’s fingers lacing through yours.

When you woke some time later, you found yourself cuddled up against Dean’s side, his arm around you. You lifted your head a little to find him looking at you. “Hey. Glad you got some sleep.”

You tried to move, but he didn’t budge, keeping you close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Doesn’t this hurt? Having me so close?”

He was still looking at you, and he gnawed on his lip a little before he answered. “It kinda hurt not having you close. So...” You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure of how to respond, and you could feel your cheeks grow warm. “I just mean… I don’t wanna lose you. I didn’t want something to happen, and have us in some strange place, but not together.” His jaw clenched a little as he hesitated, but you waited patiently for him to finish. “When we get home… I don’t want to lose you when we get home.”

“Dean, you won’t lose me.”

“I want to keep you close. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me. And Sam.”

“Dean, I was staying with you and Sam.”

“I want us to be together, okay?” He turned his head away from you for a moment, then looked back into your eyes. “I want you and I to be more than just...” You looked back at him, speechless for the moment, and he leaned in. His lips were gentle against yours, and you felt yourself melting into him as his hand moved to your waist, then around to your back. He froze, then pulled back a little, his eyes narrowing in a confused expression as his hand explored further. “You slept with the backpack?”

“What? I didn’t want one of us to pop off with some smart-ass remark and end up in a different world, alone.”

His grin started off small, growing with each second, and he leaned back close to kiss you again. “Wouldn’t want that,” he said between nibbles, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip before he backed away, his eyes shining. “I need to get you home, the sooner the better.”

“Look, just because a girl lets you kiss her doesn’t necessarily mean she’s going home with you, Slick,” you smarted off with a grin, gasping a split second later when you felt the room spinning. “Not again!” you shouted, your voice echoing as you clutched at each other, the room fading from your sight.

***

When your head stopped whirling, you opened your eyes, afraid to look. But what you saw made you inhale sharply, sitting up as Dean struggled to do the same beside you. Dean’s weapons were displayed on the wall, his headphones on the bedside table, a plaid flannel shirt tossed over the back of a chair. “Dean! We’re...”  

“Don’t talk. Give me the backpack and don’t say anything yet.” He grabbed it from you and jumped up from his bed, sprinting from the room as you stared after him, too stunned to move. You recovered quickly and hurried to follow him, hearing a commotion in the storage room by the dungeon. You skidded to a stop as you entered, watching as he stuffed the entire backpack into a trunk with sigils covering its wooden surface. He slammed it shut, put the padlock through the hasp and closed it, then let out a huge sigh, visibly relaxing as you came closer.

“We made it. Oh, my god – we have to call Sam! He’s probably frantic,” you said, still panting from your run through the halls. Dean nodded, grabbing his phone from his pocket and dialing. “Sam – you’re not gonna believe this one. But we’re home, at the bunker. So head this way, the cursed whatever it was is locked down safe.”

“Are you okay? Y/N, is she okay?” You could hear Sam’s worried voice from where you stood, and it made you smile.

“Yeah. We’re fine, we’re good now. Just come home, we’ll explain when you get here.” Dean stuffed the phone back into his pocket and turned to face you. “So…  

You took a step back. “So… I’m going to take a shower. I’ve been in, I don’t know, several worlds now, and – I need a shower.”

Dean was advancing on you at the same pace that you were backpedaling, determination on his smiling face. “Fine. You do that, and then I’ll do that. And then...”

“Then, what?”

“Then we’re gonna get back to where we left off. After all, you did come home with me.” You giggled as you took off down the hall.

“Hope you brought that anaconda home with you!”

(That last line is dedicated to @salvachester & @misswhizzy - you know why!)

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[ofaphrvdite]

:^) e v e r y t h i n g

which muse is the easiest to write?

i think because i’ve been writing her the longest it’s anastasia, i understand the most about her now and all her mannerisms and opinions just come naturally. and when you know a character so well, their arc, their goals, their wants and their motivations, it definitely makes it easier to write them. 

which muse is most likely to go to jail? 

probably… romeo. it was a toss up between him and cleo but as reckless as cleopatra can be she’s been at this a long time and her dad was a very careful man so she makes great efforts to plan for every eventuality. especially with what end her father met. but romeo? he’s the sort to get arrested for doing something just plain stupid. he takes risks, gives in to peer pressure, and that little voice in your head that says - do it. 

which muse would be the best parent?

they’d all be pretty terrible. rosalind is too selfish to give half her life over to a child and she’d grow to resent them. cleopatra’s life is too unstable for a child and she worries she’s not soft enough, and that would lead to lack of confidence in her maternal abilities. romeo has got the love thing down, he would love that kid to death truly but he’d try too hard to be their friend rather than their parent. anastasia is a good mother even if she’ll tell you otherwise, she’s stern when she needs to be and always full of love, but she can be self-centred and she doubts herself a lot too which leads to mistakes. brutus should be a good dad, he’s very loving and patient, and he understands the need for discipline too with his line of work but it’s perhaps that job that would make him a poor candidate. overall, it’s a tie between brutus and ana.

which muse is, physically, the strongest?

brutus. if rosie and julius are the brains, he’s absolutely the brawn. the muscle of the operation if they need it though he doesn’t like to resort to violence until necessary.

what would your muses be the deities of?

just gonna go with greek ones cos i know them best?? rosalind is athena, for wisdom and war strategy, but art too, a classy warrior tbh. cleo is the goddess enyo, war and destruction, lover to a war god?? sounds about right. romeo was hard but in the end i settled with hercules, a child of the gods and so much expectation that comes with it, a fate that dooms him tbh. brutus is atlas, a god condemned to carry the world on his back for all eternity. a burden he bears with great strength. anastasia is absolutely aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, the two things that mean the most to her lbr. 

what are your favorite icons for each muse?

which muse would you most like to meet irl?

ana 100%. she’s definitely the most personable out of all my muses and least likely to kill me. though i think i’d get on best with romeo tbh, my brother from another mother.

which muse would try to befriend the others?

brutus. idiot. he’s already tried with rosie and there’s been little success, they actually blood too. romeo is also very friendly, the pair of them just wanna be everyone’s friend tbh.

what song do you associate with each muse?

for cleopatra, heartless by kanye west or paper planes by mia. kingdom fall by claire wyndham or castle by halsey for rosalind. phoenix by molly sanden for anastasia, that or bubblebum bitch depending on her Mood. for romeo, blinded by your grace by stormzy or god’s plan by drake tbh. fix you by coldplay for my white mens brutus as well as charlie boy by the lumineers my soft.

which muse would be the MOM friend? DAD friend?

she’ll fight you but anastasia is the mum friend, she’s very loyal and like hell will she let someone touch someone she cares about so she makes sure everyone is safe, if she’s sober enough. brutus is the dad friend. what’s the point in explaining it, it’s his defining trait.

which muses are cat people? which are dog people?

rosalind, anastasia are cat people. cleo, romeo and brutus are all dogs through and through.

which muse would you want to have a sleepover with?

i’m terrified of cleo and rosalind so definitely not them they’d kill me in my sleep. maybe ana i feel like she has all the goss, or romeo because he’s not gonna pass out at 11pm and be boring like father brutus.

which two muses would get along the best if they met?

none of my girls would get along let’s start there. ana would be too competitive to get along with rosalind despite similar backgrounds, and cleopatra would find them both infuriatingly WASP-esque. brutus and romeo would get along just fine. ana and romeo would be an interesting pairing tbh, he’s a lot like dima in that way, and brutus and alexandre share similarities so she’d get along well there too. rosalind already wants brutus to choke, and her and romeo are enemies or whatever and he’d find her boring as fuck.

what sort of youtube channel would your muses have?

cleopatra if she was convinced to make one at all it might be a rant channel, purely to call people out tbh. rosalind would have a high fashion one, like an insta blogger type deal where she gets invited to fashion shows or w/e. brutus would have a vlogger one about his dog, and every other dumb thing he does, probably annoys julius a lot. romeo’s would be a conspiracy theory channel mixed with dumb shit like seeing what happens when you put a metal saucepan in the microwave. anastasia is beauty blogger through and through, will not do the stupid challenges thank you.

which muse would win in a fist fight against the others?

romeo. brutus ain’t about that life, and as good as cleo is with her hands she wouldn’t last against romeo. he’s got the brute strength that she lacks. skill can only take you so far. that’s why she prefers guns.

what is a plot you’ve been wanting to do for [muse name]?

for cleo i want a right hand gal, someone she can actually be friends with and not be banging. or have previously banged. and for brutus, someone from his past life before the senate, where he was all set for the army. maybe a past sweetheart, someone he can be soft with jesus.

which muse would spend a night in a haunted place for $20?

romeo. he’d do it for free he’s that stupid.

which two muses would immediately fight each other if they met? 

anastasia and rosalind. like the real housewives but worse.

which muse would you not let into your house, under any circumstance? 

cleopatra. no way. i’d end up selling her my entire house because she asked for it.

which muse would investigate the scary noises?  which one would hide?

cleo, romeo and brutus would investigate. rosie and ana would hide because they’re all about that self-preservation life. 

[thinceiling]

rupture and repair (1/4)

“Mind if I join you?”

Angela opened her eyes, fully prepared to refute some clueless man, and choked on her drink. The reigning champion of People She Did Not Want to See Unless Absolutely Necessary stood before her, wearing a leather jacket and a grin—Fareeha Amari.

“Fareeha,” she sputtered. Damn her. “What are you doing here?”

“Drinking after work.” She jerked her thumb at the men. “I’m legal now, you know.”

“Well—yes, of course…”

“Can I join you?”

“Fareeha…”

“Ah, come on. For old times’ sake?”

Modern AU. Angela is a therapist. Fareeha is a firefighter, and her most difficult client. Together, they save each others’ lives—albeit in very different ways.

If you like what you read, please consider liking and/or reblogging this fic! Thank you ^^

c/w: depression, sex, alcohol

After challenging sessions, some therapists ate powdered donuts or smoked American Spirits. 

Angela sorted emails.

Absently massaging her shoulder blade, Angela organized her messages into the usual junk and not-junk piles, blue eyes glazing over. Junk... junk... junk… wedding invite?

Begrudgingly, she clicked. Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” trumpeted through her headphones. Lena Oxton and Emily Murphy were cordially inviting her, the esteemed Dr. Ziegler, to their ceremony and ensuing reception, formal attire optional. Angela drummed her fingers. Well. She was happy for Lena. Accepting the invite, she returned to her inbox. A name caught her attention. From: Fareeha Amari. She clicked.

Dr. Ziegler,

It’s Fareeha, Ana’s daughter. Been awhile, hasn't it? My mother swears I am depressed and says you can cure anything. I would like to schedule a single consultation.

Cheers, Fareeha

Fareeha. She remembered her. God, how many years had passed? Fifteen? Twenty? Memories, unbidden, rose to the surface. Twanging strings; a humming amp; nimble fingers, spidering across a fretboard; a nervous grin. I wrote that for you, Angela!

After some consideration Angela responded to the email—blew out the candles—and returned to her apartment alone.

The following week, there was a brisk knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Angela.

The door opened and a woman entered, gold cuffs shimmering in her hair. Fareeha.

She had gotten tall; muscular, too. Fluid and noble facial features evoked royalty from a bygone age, and a tattoo under her eye—that was new—curved toward her ear. An udjat, just like Ana’s.

Attraction stirred within Angela, rusted from years of wilful negligence. She pressed it down—down—and extended a hand. “Fareeha! How have you been?”

“Fine.” Her grip was firm, the handshake brief. “And yourself?”

“Fine as well, thanks.”

As they settled into the chairs around the fireplace, Angela propped her Moleskine journal onto her knee. “So. What brings you to—”

“Is that lavender?”

“Sorry?”

Fareeha indicated the candles on the windowsill.

“Good nose,” smiled Angela. She was proud of how she had decorated her office—the candles, the veneers, the books. After a patient complained of shadows, she’d even brightened the dusky concavities of the room with potted plants. “If the smell bothers you, I can blow them out.”

“It’s not the smell,” Fareeha said flatly, “it’s the fire hazard. You shouldn’t have open flames near curtains or books.” She pointed. “Or plants.”

Angela hitched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure bamboo is flammable.”

“It is.”

“Oh.” She tapped her pen. “I suppose I’ll blow out the candles, then.”

“Don’t bother.” A smile twitched at Fareeha’s mouth. “I like lavender.”

Angela wasn’t sure how to feel. Irritated? Amused? Perhaps she ought to be straightforward. “Why are you here, Fareeha?”

A callous shrug. “You know my mother. She thinks I’m depressed.”

“Do you think you’re depressed?”

“Do I look depressed?”

“I don’t know.” She studied her. “What does depression look like to you?”

“Not sleeping, eating. Minimal showering.”

“Do you relate to those things?”

“Not really. My job doesn’t allow it.”

“And what is your job?”

“I’m a firefighter,” said Fareeha. That explained the lecture on fire safety—and the musculature. “I eat, sleep, and shower on a schedule. Hell, I have regulated piss breaks.”

Angela chuckled, and a smile fluttered at Fareeha’s lip. Her childhood precociousness had evolved into a roguish sort of charm; it was disarming.

Angela cleared her throat. “How do you feel about your job?”

“Fine? It’s not something you do for the money. I just like helping people.”

Angela looked at her carefully. Some hidden emotion seemed to scrape the edges of her expression, raw and painful, straining to breathe. “But you’re here for a reason.”

“Yes, my mother. She worries.”

“Why does she worry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because of your actions?”

“No.”

“Your feelings? Your words?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I say things, sometimes. To her.”

“And what do you say?”

“How I feel.”

“Which is?”

“Nothing,” said Fareeha, looking straight through Angela. “I save lives, and I don’t feel a damn thing.”

Their second session got off to a promising start. Fareeha spoke at length about her rigorous but happy childhood—game-winning goals, the heat of Cairo, learning the guitar.

Yet when Angela inquired about anything deeper than the perfunctory facts of her upbringing, Fareeha crossed her arms and refused to speak. Breaking her self-imposed omertà proved impossible, and the session ended on a stale note.

Their third session went the same way. So did their fourth. And fifth.

Angela deployed every strategy in her arsenal. She asked Fareeha to draw how she was feeling, to write poetry, to describe her mother. Nothing worked. Late at night she lay awake, mulling over their circuitous conversations, trying to will a solution into being.

“Tequila on the rocks?”

“Yes, Gabe, thank you.”

The bartender nodded and turned, tossing ice into a glass. Angela sighed. She sat at the far end of the counter, where the stools met the exposed brick of the wall.

“Tough client?” asked Gabe, handing her the tequila. She knocked it back. “Well, shit. Sorry for asking.”

“Could I get—”

“Another? You bet.”

As Gabe turned to make her drink, the bell above the door jangled. A group of men tramped inside, chattering idly yet loudly amongst themselves.

Angela looked down. She heard boots shuffling, chairs being rearranged. She sipped her drink. One more shot, then. One more and she would leave. From the corner of her eye, she noticed someone leave the group of men and approach her.

Poor bastard. She closed her eyes and drank.

“Mind if I join you?”

Angela opened her eyes, fully prepared to refute some clueless man, and choked on her drink. The reigning champion of People She Did Not Want to See Unless Absolutely Necessary stood before her, wearing a leather jacket and a grin—Fareeha Amari.

“Fareeha,” she sputtered. Damn her. “What are you doing here?”

“Drinking after work.” She jerked her thumb at the men. “I’m legal now, you know.”

“Well—yes, of course…”

“Can I join you?”

“Fareeha…”

“Ah, come on. For old times’ sake?”

Angela hesitated. Establishing boundaries with patients was critical to the success of therapy; any armchair psychologist knew that.

But... what if this was an opportunity?

She considered the empty shot glasses. A month of sessions had been fruitless; every tactic in her toolbox was exhausted. Perhaps... perhaps a little rapport could go a long way.

She nodded. “Go ahead.”

Beaming, Fareeha sat next to her. She smelled like cologne. “I’ll have what she’s having,” she directed to Gabe, who shrugged and poured her a shot. She sniffed it. “Tequila?”

“You’re a bloodhound.”

“And you’re a heavyweight, apparently.” Fareeha raised her glass. “To my mother, for reuniting us.”

Angela smiled. “To your mother.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Fareeha’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh. How do you stand this jet fuel?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” she admitted with a small smile. She glanced at the men. “You’re with your coworkers?”

“Coworkers—what a cold word. We’re more like a family.”

“Of course.”

“Who’d you come with?”

“Don’t you know?” Gabe cut in, swinging by with two more shots. “Angela sits on her stool and gets hit on by attractive strangers. It’s an eclectic kink.”

Fareeha snorted; Angela leveled a dry look at the bartender. “Thanks, Gabe.”

“You’re welcome, doc.”

“So it’s true?” Fareeha’s eyes glinted. 

“Of course not.” She sipped her drink. “Why, do you want it to be?”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow; Angela flushed. The words had slipped out her mouth, a vestigial habit from when she used to flirt at bars. The tequila didn’t help. “That is—I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Head tilted, Fareeha fingered the rim of her glass. “You think I’m attractive, don’t you?”

Oh God oh God. “No, I just—”

“You think I’m ugly?”

“No! I—”

“So which is it, Angela? Am I attractive or ugly?”

Angela stared. Fareeha was grinning from ear to ear. “You’re screwing with me.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Angela downed the rest of her drink. Laughing, Fareeha knocked her shot back too, exposing the soft skin of her throat. She really was attractive. She was stupidly, unfairly attractive.

Fareeha set down her empty glass. Color tinged her cheeks; her eyes shone.

“Another drink can’t hurt, can it, Ms. Heavyweight?”

In the dead of night Angela awoke. Tangled between her legs was a sweat-caked blanket. Her underwear was hitched around her ankles.

She sat up. The room was dark and quiet. The door yawned ajar. A half-rectangle of light spilled over the floor, illuminating hardwood panels.

Her eyes stung. She removed her contacts and placed them in the case on her nightstand.

She smelled smoke.

Angela swung her legs over the mattress and stood, swaying on the spot. Her head was light. She slid her feet into a pair of silk slippers and fumbled through the dark, following the smell to the balcony.

The sliding glass doors were open.

Angela stepped onto the moon-soaked tile and blinked once. Twice.

Fareeha leaned over the railing. She smoked a cigarette. She was naked.

I’m dreaming, she thought. Then she thought, Has she been crying?

Fareeha tapped ash over the railing and said, “This is illegal, right?”

Angela stared.

“Come on. This must violate all kinds of policy.”

Angela stared.

“Please say something.” Ash flaked off the cigarette. “I’m not used to silence after sex.”

“Sex?”

“Sex.”

Angela said, “Fuck.”

“That too.”

“Fuck,” said Angela. She slumped against railing and closed her eyes. It was all coming back now. Drinking at the pub, confused flirting, suggestive touches; the Uber home—Fareeha’s eyes—sex. Good sex. Memories returned in shaky snatches—bending, clinging, panting, eyes rolling back—and her face grew hot.

Fareeha touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No.” The cigarette. She stared at the cigarette. “Smoking is bad for your health.”

Fareeha stopped touching her and took a drag. Smoke came out of her nose and washed over the balcony, curling toward the stars. “I know.”

“Have you been crying?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Have you lost someone before?”

She paused. “Yes.”

“He was the captain before me. I could have saved him.” The tip of her cigarette glowed. “Why didn’t I save him, Angela?”

Angela did not reply. She did not know how to reply. For a long time, the two of them stood there on that balcony and looked at the lights in the cars and the buildings and the lamps lining the dark streets below.

[just-another-busy-fangirl]

I Have No Idea

Here is my entry for Ana’s @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms “Shit My Patients Say” Challenge.  The prompt I chose was #2 “I have no idea how that got there”

Summary: Sam’s healthy diet has you and Dean sneaking around at night.

warnings: none, just food and fluff with Dean

word count: ~920

You walked through the bunker in the middle of the night, headed for the kitchen.  Sam had recently enacted a healthy eating challenge for all of you, wanting to help you and Dean get into better eating habits than you were currently in, and the whole thing was kicking your butt.  You were starving all the time.

It’s not that you didn’t like eating healthy food, you just liked eating unhealthy food, too.  You were lucky that your metabolism and active, hunter’s lifestyle helped you keep your weight somewhat under control, but this whole health-food-only thing was just not cutting it.  You had woken to your stomach growling, and knowing that Sam was sleeping, you decided to sneak into the kitchen for a snack.

You headed blindly down the hallways in the pitch black, knowing the bunker like the back of your hand.  You walked through the kitchen door, flipping the light switch on.

A shuffle and bang rang out in the silence of the room, and your eyes immediately shot open, body alert.  You scanned the room, landing finally at the table in the corner and seeing Dean sitting there, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Whatcha doin, Dean?” you asked, eyeing him curiously.

He chewed something very slowly, swallowing before he spoke.  “Nothing, nothing at all.”

You took a few steps toward the table and him, watching as he slid a little bit away from you, hands hidden under the table.  “I just really don’t believe you, Dean,” you said, taking a few more steps.

“Really, nothing.  Why are you up, what are you doing?”

You stopped walking toward him, sighing.  “So damn hungry,” was all you admitted, eyes looking at the refrigerator longingly before moving back to rest on Dean.

He seemed to be having an internal debate, finally coming to a conclusion. “Keep a secret?” he asked, and you nodded sincerely.  

Slowly he brought his hands out from under the table, holding a quarter-empty apple pie and fork.  Your eyes widened and you gasped, saliva filling your mouth at the sight.  “Oh my God, Dean, you better be willing to share,” you said quickly, rushing to the silverware drawer to grab a fork before you sat across from him.

You got a large bite on your fork and brought it to your mouth, closing your eyes to smell the sweet dessert before you put it in your mouth.  You moaned around the taste, slowly pulling the fork from your mouth and making sure you didn’t lose a single crumb.  You squished the treat between your tongue and the roof of your mouth, swirling the taste around before chewing and swallowing.

When you opened your eyes it was to see Dean staring at you, mouth open and completely focused on your lips.  You blushed slightly, knowing that you made somewhat erotic sounds when you ate something particularly delicious.  “Sorry…” you apologized, fork reaching for another bite.

“Don’t apologize, just didn’t realize you liked pie as much as me,” Dean said, filling his own fork with a bite as well.  

“Eh, it’s actually not my favorite like it’s yours, but anything that’s not under Sam’s strict guidelines right now would be sinfully delicious in my opinion,” you admitted, stuffing another bite in your mouth.  Dean muffled an agreeing sound around his bite of pie, and the two of you fell into a companionable silence.

You found yourself eternally grateful that Dean was willing to share his pie, and made a mental note to bake him one special once Sam was done with the two of you.

Soon enough, the pie was nearly gone and you were scraping at the pan, making sure no crumbs went to waist.  You and Dean were fork battling over a final apple piece when you heard a loud, “Hey!”

Caught in the act, both of your heads turned to see Sam in the doorway. “What are you doing?  What is that?”

You and Dean looked at each other, guilt all over your faces.  “I have no idea,” you said lamely.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I have no idea how that got there,” he motioned to the now practically-empty pie pan.

Sam walked over to the table, picking up the pan.  “You guys suck,” he announced, taking the pan and throwing it in the sink, before storming out of the room.

You and Dean stared at the now empty, open door for a moment before looking back at each other, laughing all of a sudden.

“Oops,” you said through your giggles.

“Did you see his face?” Dean snorted, amused by his brother’s pissed off look.

You nodded, laughing too hard to speak more.  You stood, Dean following.  He put his arm around your shoulders as the two of you headed out of the kitchen and down the hall, heading back to bed.

“Thanks for joining me and making me feel less like a cheater,” Dean said as you walked.  

“No problem.  Lots of people say it takes two to cheat, so better together, right? Thanks for sharing your pie,” you replied, smiling up at him.

The two of you reached your rooms, giving each other one last look.  “Night,” you offered, and he nodded in return, kissing you on the forehead before you split apart, both of you headed into your rooms, stomachs full and happy.

Forever Tag

@adaliamalfoy @alicat-life @allinhishands @angelus320 @atc74 @attractiverandomness @ayeeitsemry @bohowitch @bulletscrossbowpie @chelsea072498 @chloeaacole @cosmicpeanuthologram @deanswhiskeyveins @demondeansdomme @docharleythegeekqueen @donnaintx @fandommaniacx @fangirl1802 @feelmyroarrrr @freefood45 @fuckyeahfeysand @holahellohialoha @iamnotsaneatall @its-my-perky-nipples @jalove-wecallhimdean @jayankles @jotink78 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @katymacsupernatural @keelzythe2nd @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @lakama15 @marasficrecs @mestiza003 @mogaruke @moosesamdeancasbees @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @mrstheorossix3 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-angel-with-a-shotgun @nadiandreu7 @notnaturalanahi @ohgodjensen @remybosslika @ruprecht0420 @sandlee44 @sgarrett49 @skybinx-blog @sleep-silent-angel @slightlysoftgrunge @smalltowndivajessica @smoothdogsgirl @spn--princess @spontaneousam @theoriginalvicki @too-much-winchester @vodkaluh @whispersandwhiskerburn

Dean Tag

@anokhi07 @avasmommy224 @blu-eyed-devil @clintonvillegirl @falling-for-fandoms @lipstickandwhiskey @nightchanges25-blog @pandacanttype @plaidshirtsandmetalarms @winsmut

[paintrider13-blog]

Prove ‘Em Wrong

Here is my entry for @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms Shit my Patients Say challenge! I took “My friend said I couldnt do it so I had to prove them wrong, and also You’re a lot different than the nurses I’ve seen online.” Both Prompts are in bold. Let me know what you think! Thanks to the ever amazing @atc74 for reading through this for me!

You made it through finals week rather unscathed and sober. Now with clinicals and everything out of the way, your girls had decided it was time to go out and party. 

“Shots!!” Ana called out over all the noise in the packed bar. 

You and two of your girlfriends cut your way through the crowd to the bar. You caught the attention of the bartender and ordered a round of whiskey shots.

 “Excuse me sweetheart,” a baritone voice came from behind you as you leaned on the bar, a tumbler in your hand, laughing.

 “Yeah,” you turned coming face to face with a broad chest, and looked up into the greenest eyes you had ever seen. The stranger smirked at you as your eyes widened.

“Can I get two beers?” He held two fingers up to the bartender still looking at you.

“I'm Dean.” He slid into the now empty spot at the bar next to you 

“Y/N,” you smiled and offered your hand to him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” He smiled and winked at you as he collected the two beers the bartender had brought. He turned and headed towards the pool tables.

“Good God who was that?” The girls gushed.

“That was Dean, I would love to leave here with him tonight.” You sighed, leaning against the bar watching him. He was tall, bow legged and looked like sex on a stick. Your jaw almost hit the floor when he handed one of the beers to another outrageously attractive guy.

You were six rounds in when you noticed Dean was still there playing pool.

“Still want to leave with him?” Angie asked leaning into you, smiling.

“Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to,” you proclaimed.

“Whatever!” Ana chimed in leaning around Angie. 

“Nope, pretty sure,” you took your lip between your teeth.

“You won't do it,” Ana smirked at you.

“You bet your sweet ass I will.” You tossed back your shot, adjusted your shirt to show some more cleavage and started across the bar.

 “You want to try losing to someone?” You purred stopping at the end of the table as their game ended.

 “And who might that be?” Dean asked, a playful glint in his eye. The other man leaned on his pool cue watching you curiously.

“Well, there is a bar full of people, but I know this girl who is pretty damn good.” You winked at him.

“Oh ya? Where’s she at?” He asked looking around.

“Right here,” you smirked at him. You had spent hours and hours playing pool with your brothers growing up and you still played when ever you coul 

“Hmm, I dunno. You don't look very good.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” you told him walking over and picked up a cue.

“True. I guess I can give you a little chance,” he chuckled looking at the other guy.

“Tables all yours,” he answered making his way to a table close by

“You break,” Dean told you leaning close to you as he passed by to rack.

“Works for me, I love to break balls. It's why I went into the nursing field.” You chalked the end of your stick.

“You don't look like the nurses I've seen on line.” Dean laughed out loud looking up at you.

“Oh honey, you don't know what I have on, or rather don't have on underneath this conservatively short skirt.” You replied cheekily.

“That's the truth.” He took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth as he looked you up and down 

“So don't judge too soon.” You told him as you bent down to break. 

“I would have to say,” he breathed suddenly right next to your face, “I wouldn't mind finding out.” With that he strutted to the side of the table leaving you there staring down your cue.

“In that case, should I even bother breaking?” You straightened up looking questioningly at him. 

“That's up to you sweetheart,” the excitement that lit his eyes was hot.

“I think I can sacrifice a game of pool.” You dropped your cue on the table.

“Let's go then,” he held his hand out for you.

“Just us?” You asked him turning a questioning gaze to his friend who had been very quiet.

“Hell you want Sam to come? Maybe you are like those nurses on line!”  Dean laughed.

“I'll come,” Sam stood up towering over you with a similar glint in his hazel eyes to Deans.

“You better. Let's get out of here.” You took Dean's hand and offered your other to Sam.

Dean led you out of the bar with Sam towing behind you. You caught the dumbstruck look on both Ana and Angie's faces just before the door closed and Sam discreetly palmed your ass through your skirt. You laughed out loud as you hit the parking lot.

“What's so funny sweetheart?” Sam asked pulling your back to the front of him. He kept walking letting Dean lead you toward a black Impala.

“Well, I told my friends I was leaving here with Dean tonight and they said I couldn't do it, so I had to prove them wrong. Little did I know I'd totally out do that and leave with both of you!! God, this is the best end to finals week ever!” You smiled as Sam kissed the side of your neck.

“It's going to be a hell of a night,” Dean smiled back, pulling you from Sam's arms to lay a passionate kiss to your lips.

Hell yes it was going to be a good night.

Forever Tags:

@atc74   @willow580  @lovebelieve97  @mysteriouslyme81 @chelsea072498  @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms   @marygracewinchester  @deandoesthingstome  @supernatural-jackles  @deanscherrypie  @torn-and-frayed @d-s-winchester  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @impalapossible  @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog  @nichelle-my-belle  @lipstickandwhiskey   @kakdhaoan919 @avasmommy224 @mogaruke  @tankcupcakes @death2thevirgin @badsongwinchester @hexparker @just-another-busy-fangirl

Dean:

@perpetualabsurdity  

Reader insert only:

@jensen-jarpad   

[iwantthedean]

Out of the Blue

Summary: A series of random events turns out to be not so random.  Pairing: Dean x Nicole (Me)  Word Count: 2905 Warnings: Medical setting, gunshot wound.  Challenge: Ana’s “Shit My Patients Say” Challenge. Prompt: “Oh, that’s been there for years. Just don’t touch it and it’ll be fine.” @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

Thanks to Andi, Angelina, and Taylor for encouraging me with this! It took a path at the end I wasn’t expecting, but if you want to see more, let me know! 

“Nic, you sure you’ve got this?” Jacey asked, shouldering her bag. “I’d stay, but if I miss another one of Luke’s basketball games …”

I smiled and assured her I would be fine closing the clinic on my own. “There’s not much stocking left to do, and then I’ll lock up and head home.”

“All right. I trust you,” she smiled. “Be safe. Text me when you’re home, if you think about it.”

I promised her that I would, then went back to stocking the few rooms in the small clinic. The hospital had opened the clinic just a few months before, for the low-income and uninsured population in town. Everyone in the ER took turns manning the clinic, and this week was my rotation. I had learned a lot in my few years working in the emergency room, and since I was getting ready to start physician assistant school, the mid-level providers who worked the clinic were pretty good about teaching me new things and letting me do more than I had been previously trained to do.

Thank God, because that night turned out to be a true test of my skills. Everything was stocked and my things were packed up. All I had to do was lock the back door, then I could leave out the front.

Except that when I opened the front door to leave, a tall man pushed his way inside. Instantly, my eyes went wide and I reached for the handgun in my purse. Thank God for a brother who had been a sniper and taught me how to shoot. The Glock 19 was probably larger than any gun I should have been carrying, but I loved the weight of it in my hand. Oh, and when it fired … Stop it, Nicole. No time for that now.

“Get out,” I ordered in a calm but stern voice.

The man held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you, I just – I need your help.”

He pointed to his side, and it was then that I saw the fresh bloodstain on his shirt. While I was distracted by the wound (what can I say, I get all giddy at the sight of blood and guts), he grabbed for the gun, ejected the magazine with one hand, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders with the other. I was now trapped with my back against his torso, squirming to be let go.

“Look, sweetheart, I really do need your help. I mean, this is a health clinic for shit’s sake. Was the gun really necessary?”

Pursing my lips, I elbowed him in the ribs – the good side, not the bloody side. I’m not Satan. His arm dropped from my shoulders, and I wrestled the gun from his hand. We both dove for the magazine; I landed underneath him but grabbed onto the magazine and loaded the gun. He was balanced carefully on top of me, one arm on either side, and looking somewhat amused. I noted how handsomely green his eyes were, and the bruises and cuts on his face, in the same moment I pressed the barrel of the gun against his chest, a couple inches above his still-bleeding wound.

“You’re getting blood on my scrubs,” I said in the same measured tone I had used to tell him to get out. “Get off of me and get out, or you’re going to need more than one wound looked after.”

He was starting to go pale and struggling for words – yikes. This guy wasn’t clowning around. I took the risk to glance down at his side and saw that the bleeding had been exacerbated by the action of fighting me for the gun.

“What happened?” I asked, not moving the Glock from where it was pressed into his ribs.

He swallowed hard. “’S a long story. All I know is that I’ve already lost a lot of blood, and if it doesn’t stop soon, I feel like I’m going to die.”

Two breaths later, I made my decision. I ejected the magazine on the gun, set both pieces to the side, then squirmed out from under him. How I helped that man up off the floor, I’m not really sure. Maybe the adrenaline of a good ole trauma. Like I said, blood and guts makes me giddy.

Once we were into an exam room, I helped him off with his jacket, the flannel he was wearing, and finally the olive-green t-shirt he had on. Damn it. He was even more good-looking with his shirt off.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on the man’s good looks. He had a long, deep laceration over his abdomen and side, from a couple inches directly under his ribcage, around his back to what EMTs sometimes refer to as the flank area of the body.

“You definitely need stitches.”

“Might be a bullet in there, too,” he groaned.

I frowned as I donned a pair of nitrile gloves. “What the fuck were you doing tonight?”

“Like I said, long story” he groaned as I examined the wound closer.

“I can sort of see the bullet, I think. We need to get it out and stitch this up. It’s outside of my training, really … how old is that scar on your back, by the way? It looks infected.”

“Oh, that’s been there for years. Just don’t touch it and it’ll be fine.” The handsome man shook his head. “You work here, you’ve seen them do stuff, I’m sure. You can do this. You have to do this. I can’t go anywhere else.”

I thought for a moment, then nodded. Instructing my patient to stay where he was at, I ran for the supply room, collect a lac tray, the largest jug of sterile saline solution we had, a lot of gauze, and some bandaging.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch,” I told him. “I’m not cleared to get into the medication storage.”

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.

I carefully arranged all of the supplies on a tray, then took a deep breath and looked at my patient. I ran back for the supply room, and came back with an IV kit and a bag of fluids.

“Tell me what happened before I start,” I demanded.

His adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was kicking in. I could tell because he was grimacing more often and, even though gravity was doing us a favor with him lying on his back, he was going pale despite the decrease in active blood loss.

He held up a hand. “Name’s Dean. Dean Winchester. You tell anybody that, I’m screwed.”

“I’m Nicole,” I replied, taking his outstretched hand. “I don’t think most people would really care if you told them that, but if you tell anyone I’m doing this for you, I could lose my entire career – one I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t worry, Nic,” Dean replied, immediately adopting one of my nicknames. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Like the one about what happened tonight. About how my brother and I were chasing the bad guys, and I got shot. Then, my brother tried to get the bullet out, because that’s usually how we handle things, but – ow!”

“IV is in,” I announced, hooking up the line and setting the micro-drip. “Sorry. Never done that on my own before and I needed you to not be watching me.”

Dean’s face melted from concern to relief. “But it’s in?”

I nodded. “Yeah. So your brother tried to get the bullet out and clearly that didn’t work. How did you get shot? Shouldn’t you be talking to the police?”

“Believe me, the police don’t deal with the kind of bad guys I deal with.”

I was too concentrated on deciding just how I was going to do all of this without killing Dean to ask any more questions. After exploring the wound a little more, I had a plan of attack. I donned new gloves, pulled my hair back, and found a surgical mask and eye protection.

“What, is my blood going to be spurting everywhere or something?” Dean asked with a chuckled.

I glanced at him from the side of the bed. I was positioning the patient bed to a good level for me to be able to work at a good angle, but I couldn’t answer him. I could see the bullet and it looked like it was relatively superficial, I mean for a gunshot wound, but that didn’t mean there weren’t arteries that had been nicked and were going to bleed out the second I removed the bullet – arteries I couldn’t see. For whatever reason, my nerves were mounting the closer I got to actually digging that bullet out and stitching Dean up.

I opened the forceps, pointed the focus light at Dean’s wound, draped around the rest of it, and dimmed the rest of the lights in the room. I sat down to get to work, and finally looked at him. It was possible he was pale from blood loss and shock, but he looked just as nervous as I felt.

“You’re still sure you want me to do this?”

Dean nodded. “I know you’re nervous, but I can tell from the way you carry yourself that you’re confident enough to pull this off. Just don’t kill me, okay?”

His quiet laughter was full of nerves and a real plea not to kill him. I gave him a small smile he couldn’t see behind the mask and nodded. “I’ll do my best. Ready?”

“Ready.”

With one more deep breath, I got a good grip on the forceps and the small retractor. I glanced at Dean once, then focused on the task in front of me.

“Wait!” I said, just before the tools touched his open flesh.

“Fuck, Nicole! Really?” Dean exclaimed.

“Sorry,” I said. “But you need to know, this is really going to hurt. I mean, your brother already tried so I know you know that. But you may pass out. That doesn’t mean you’re dying. So you can’t think you’re going to die. Okay?”

Dean nodded and set his head back on the pillow. He looked up at the ceiling, swallowed hard, and then closed his eyes. I closed my eyes, said a quick, silent prayer, and set to work.

How that man got through me digging a bullet out of his body without screaming so loud someone called the cops, I’ll never know. By the time I got to it, I was getting glimpses of his intestines. I dumped as much sterile water as I could, flushed out the area, and finally felt some degree of relief when the bullet made a quiet tink on the metal tray beside me.

“Bullet’s out,” I announced. “Dean, it was in there deep. I don’t see any internal bleeding, but you really need to watch this. If you starting getting symptoms of infection or –”

I realized then that he had indeed passed out. With another silent prayer that he would wake up, I set to working stitching up the open wound. It took me almost an hour; I hated that he was exposed to the open air for that long, but Jacey always left her signature stamp in an open drawer. I could type up a prescription for pain-killers and antibiotics, put her stamp on it, and pray to God I didn’t lose my job.

Dean came to just before I finished the last couple superficial stitches. He asked how everything went, and I explained again about watching out for infection, and added things to look out for, in case he did start bleeding internally. I told him to lay there while I bandaged him up, then I set to work cleaning up the tray and getting rid of any evidence he had been there.

“Eat this, drink this,” I said, handing him a plate with graham crackers smeared with peanut butter and a cold soda. “Otherwise you’re liable to pass out on your way home.”

Dean did as he was told while I once again gathered my things. My gun had been laying on the floor in the front lobby all that time; thank God I had the sense to retrieve it before we left.

After Dean finished off the soda and graham crackers, I could tell that his color was returning. I checked his vital signs, just for good measure, and breathed my millionth sigh of relief that night when they were all within normal limits.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said as the two of us walked out to my car. I had no idea where Dean had parked.

He nodded. “Pretty sure answering a question is the least I can do after you basically saved my life.”

With a smile, I continued. “Why did you come to me?”

“Didn’t want to go to an actual hospital, since they have to report. The guy at the gas station where I’m parked pointed me over here, so I took a chance. It was one worth taking.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t kill you,” I laughed. “On that note, sorry about the gun thing. And elbowing you in the ribs. I get sassy in my scrubs.”

“I can tell,” Dean laughed. “Thank you, Nicole. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Suddenly, I wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. “Do you need a ride back to your car? Or maybe a place to crash tonight?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Dean teased, raising a brow.

I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams, Winchester. Just making sure my patient is taking care of.”

He licked his lips. “Well, if you’re offering, I might take you up on it. And not because of the seduction. Lawrence is good drive from here.”

“Lawrence,” I repeated. “How’d you make it down here? Kansas City is way closer.”

“On a hunch,” Dean shrugged.

I clicked the unlock button on my key fob. “Get in. And don’t bleed on my car.”

Dean laughed and got in the passenger seat. We stopped for fast food on the way back to my small house, and I gave him a quick tour before he sat at the table to eat. I changed my clothes and washed my face, then joined him at the table.

“I’m glad you have an appetite,” I commented.

“Me too,” Dean said. “But when are you going to talk to me about something other than medical talk?”

I shrugged. “It’s kind of my life. I mean, if you’re not going to tell me anything more about what happened to you tonight …”

“You’re smart, Nicole. I’m sure you can figure there’s a good reason why I haven’t told you any of it.”

Dean’s comment definitely wasn’t threatening, but I noticed a note of sadness. I was tempted to push the issue, to encourage him to talk to me, but I hardly knew the man. Hell, a few hours ago, I’d held him at gunpoint in an attempt to defend myself. I couldn’t ask him to indulge me any more information than I was willing to give myself. He held eye contact with me; it felt like his eyes were pleading with me for something I couldn’t name.

“It’s late,” I said, crumpling up my burger wrapper, “and I’ll probably have a lot to answer for in the morning at work. I’ll show you the guest room.”

“Nicole.”

My name on his lips stopped me in my tracks, but I couldn’t turn around. Whatever had been there in his eyes sparked something in my soul, it felt like, and that wasn’t something I was prepared to respond to. I felt his arms wrap around me from behind. My body leaned against his, almost as an involuntary response to having Dean so near to me.

“I don’t know why I felt like I had to come here instead of Kansas City, or why I chose your clinic, but I think it was for a reason.”

Dean’s voice in my ear, his breath on my cheek, and his strong arms still holding onto me made me weak in the knees. Not that long ago, I’d held his life in my hands, but now – I couldn’t explain it any more than to say that it felt like he was holding my life in his hands.

“I don’t know you,” I said, turning in his arms and stepping away. “I don’t know why I did for you what I did, but now you’re here and I don’t want you to leave. What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know what it is, but I know I don’t want to leave.” Stepping forward again, Dean placed a hand on either side of my face. His lips lightly brushed mine, and even that millisecond of contact made it feel as though the entire universe shifted. “What do you say? Should we figure out what this is?”

You could lose everything. I’m not sure where that thought came from, but I knew it wasn’t my own brain. I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, tried to maintain my breathing, and let my eyes wander over the apartment. The choice was mine, when at the same time, it felt as if I only had one choice.

“Yes,” I finally said. “Let’s figure it out.”

[soldierwinterthe]

A deal with the Devil (Part Two)

Summary: The reader, after making a deal with Lucifer, begins to have nightmares and hallucinations about him. When the baby’s birth is finally over, things get complicated.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Lucifer, Crowley, Sam Winchester (mentioned, sorry)

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1800 (approximately)

A/N: So, here I am. First of all I wanted to say something very important. When I say I’m going to write a story, that’s just a part, or two, I do. The problem is that sometimes I get a little to write, but either a day or a week, what I promised to write I write it. Anyway, here is the second part of “A deal with the devil”. I wrote the first part for Ana’s “Shit My Patients Say” Challenge, by @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms (If you mind that I tagged you, sorry I don’t do it again lol). Many people have asked me for a second part, and after so long, here it is! I thought I would write a THIRD part, but I don’t know. I have to think about it, also because I have so many other ideas in my mind, and I would like to write it before forgetting ahah. All right. Up, up! Go to read!

Part One

Feedback is always appreciated.

When the baby is born, I will come pick you up. And you’ll have to choose. Or you, or the child.

I bump into the bed, waking up suddenly. My hands are sticky, and I feel the drops of sweat coming down my forehead. I close my eyes, and I breathe deeply. It is the umpteenth time that I dream Lucifer, who continues to say those words. It’s been almost a month since I came in and left the cage to save my son, and the day of his birth is approaching more and more. And I do not do more than to see Lucifer from all sides while he laughs at my back; it’s a nightmare. I get up from the bed and left the room, I begin to wander the bunker, aimlessly. Dean and Sam aren’t there; Dean stayed with me for three weeks because he was afraid I would do some other shit, but in the end me and Sam managed to convince him to go hunting. His conditions were that I didn’t leave the bunker, and that I always had the phone near me, and that he would call me every hour. I feel more caged at this time, than a month ago with Lucifer. But I can understand Dean’s concern: he was about to lose his son, and he was going to lose me too. I think I’ve done the biggest shit since I was born, but for my son, I would have done everything. And if in a few months, I’ll have to die, or I’ll have to go to hell, or I’ll have to become.. Lucifer’s slave, I do not care. My son will be safe. Dean? He doesn’t know anything of course; how can I tell him such a thing? Whenever I stay alone with him, I feel I’m betraying him, not saying anything about what really happened in that cage.

Yet, I should stay calm: Lucifer is imprisoned in the cage, in hell, and he can’t get out. So I’m safe... right?

As I keep wandering in the corridors in the bunker, I hear noises coming from the library. I turn, and staying alert, I walk slowly toward the library. I’m speechless when I see who it was to cause those noises: Lucifer. He’s there, sitting in a chair, with a book in his hands; he looks up, and smiling at me, he gets up and approaches more and more. I lean back, shaking my head.

“You’re not here. You’re not real.”

“Y/n, is this how are the guests treated? Come here, hug me.”

“You’re not real!”

I put my head in the hands, and I close my eyes, hoping it’s just a bad dream, and that in a few moments I wake up in my bed. But nothing happens, and I hear Lucifer’s steps getting closer to me.

“You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real...”

Lucifer’s hand sits under my chin, and he forces me to look up and meet his.

“Oh darling. But I’m real. And I’m looking forward to having you all for me. Just you and me. Forever.”

In the blink of an eye, Lucifer is gone. What have I just seen? Was he really, or is it just the result of my imagination? I close my eyes, and I hear the tears forming in my eyes.

“Y/n.”

I look up, and I see the King of Hell behind me. I quickly brush my face out of tears, and I try not to show any emotion.

“Crowley. What are you doing here?”

“Will come the day when you call me ‘Dad’?”

I continue to watch him, but without going to answer his question; Crowley approaches the liquor table, and pouring the scotch into a glass, he starts to make small sips.

“What it wasn’t real?”

I froze; how long he had arrived in the bunker? That he had heard the whole conversation I had with Lucifer, or whatever it was?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, watching every Crowley’s move. Not even he knows what happened with Lucifer in the cage, and even if he knew, I don’t think he really cares about me. Crowley approaches me, and his eyes are fixed on mine.

“Don’t lie to me, sugar. I know Lucifer would never let you go without having anything in return. So we both know what’s happening to you. He has come into your head, and even though it’s in the cage, slowly he maddens you more and more. You need help.”

“Help? From you? No thanks.”

Crowley sighs, and looks down. He puts the empty glass on the table and glances at me.

“If you don’t ask for help to me, at least ask for help to Winchester. You trust them, don’t you? So why not tell them the truth? Accept my help, darling. Or when Lucifer comes to pick you up, it will be too late.”

And in a second, he disappears, remaining the only person in the bunker, again.

“It’s about to get the time, honey.”

A scream, and I’m awake again in my bed. I breathe short, and tears flow over my face.

“Y/n, hey. Are you okay?”

Dean is by my side, and my nightmare made him wake up; I feel his arms rub my back. He knows this gesture can always calm me after a nightmare. But this time it’s different. After all these months, I miss a few weeks at the birth of my son; it’s male or female, we don’t know. Me and Dean have decided to find out when it will be born.

Lucifer.

He’s still in my head, and he’s becoming more and more real. And now Dean has noticed that something is wrong; I say it’s the baby, pregnancy, hormones... but I know he starts to believe me no more. He knows something is wrong, and I don’t know what excuse to reverse to keep him calm.

“I’m fine.” I say to Dean as I get up from bed and go to the bathroom to wash my face. I feel Dean get out of bed, and come to me. His arms wrapped around me, and his hands are placed on my belly, now become pretty big.

“Y/n, why don’t you tell me what is happening to you?”

My gaze sits on the mirror in front of me, and in the reflection, I see Dean look at me. I turn around, and I make a forced smile to the hunter while I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I’m fine Dean. It’s just the bab-”

“Yeah. The baby. It’s weeks you say to me that it’s fault of the pregnancy, and of the hormones that you aren’t comfortable with. But I don’t believe you. I can’t do it. I read it in your eyes that something troubles you. And the fact that you don’t want to tell me, it makes me worry even more.”

“I... I don’t know what to say to you. I’m afraid... when our son will born. I’m afraid of not being good at being a mom.”

Oh, Dean... how sorry I am. I would like to tell you the truth, but I can’t. I can’t.

Dean takes my face in his hands and kisses me. If he knew... things shouldn’t be so.

“You will be a fantastic mom. You should worry that I will suck!”

I burst out laughing; how long I didn’t laugh for real.

“You’re very good with children. And you’ll be a perfect dad.” I say, as tears flow more and more to my face. Dean wipes my cheeks with my thumbs, and holds me tight to him. How will he feel when I’m gone? He’ll have to take care of our son alone, without me. But, hey, there’ll be Sam with him. And Castiel. They will help him to move on, and to grow our son. I know Dean can get on without me. He will have to do it.

“It’s time, honey. I’m coming to pick you up.”

My eyes open slowly. I see a figure in front of me, and immediately I go panic; I open my eyes and start to shake.

“Y/n, I’m Dean. Calm down.”

In front of me, Dean tries to stop my movements, and after taking a deep breath, I calm down.

“Dean..”

“You’re okay. Everything is alright. What’s the last thing you remember?”

I close my eyes and concentrate on the last memories I have: I was in my room, and suddenly, I felt a pain in the belly... the water broke. I was going into labor.

“The baby...”

“Everything is alright. You’re faint, and I and Sam brought you to the hospital right away. They had to operate emergency. But you’re fine... and she too.”

“She?”

Dean smiles; it’s a girl. I am a mother of a baby girl.

“Where is she?”

“She’s sleeping. Do you want to see her?”

I nod vigorously, and after that Dean has helped me get out of bed, we both go to the room where all the kids are asleep.

“Here it is. It’s her.”

A tiny corpse, wrapped in a dress, gently rests in the cradle. I feel the tears come into my eyes; I am so happy that any other thought has vanished from my mind.

“How do we want to call her?” Dean asks me. I open my mouth to talk, but suddenly, I feel dumb in the head. I groan in pain, and I hold my head in the hands. The pain is getting stronger and I can’t breathe.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

Dean takes me in his arms and brings me back to my room. When I open my eyes, I see him. Lucifer, who enjoys the panorama outside the window. He turns slowly towards us, and when his eyes met mine, a smile appears on his face.

“How are you doing here?”

“Who is here?” asks Dean looking me confused. I look at him, and I frown. Only I can see Lucifer, and no one else. I turn back to Lucifer, and I know. I know the time has come to say goodbye.

“Take care of her. Dean, takes care of our daughter.”

“Y/n, what are you saying?”

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t think of anything else except kissing Dean. My lips sit on his, and we’re exchanging the most passionate kiss I remember. I hold him tight to me, as I try to hold back the tears.

“I’ll always love you.”

Taking Dean aback, I push him out of the room, and I lock the door. I turn to Lucifer, as I listen to Dean’s screaming from outside.

“Finally, you are mine, darling. Ah, how much we and I will have fun in hell.”

I close my eyes. And then. Fire.

If you want to be tagged in my stories, just ask me!

Forever Tag: @hotwinchester - @iamthenewthor - @doro7winchester - @frickin-bats - @cirunia

Supernatural Tag: @jensen-jarpad - @27bmm - @mogaruke

Dean Tag: @love-charmer-sketch

@imaginesbyemma

If you want to be tagged in my stories, just ask me!

[laurazepamwrites]

The chemicals between us ~ ch.3

The orca touched down at the Gibraltar base mid morning. Its engines blasting hot air across the tarmac. Ana Amari watched as it descended smiling slightly, she always felt a weight lift off her when a ship returned home. She began to walk across the landing pad, glancing behind as she heard hurried footsteps quickly catching up to her. ‘Good morning Hana.’ She said politely as the young woman matched her pace, now walking alongside the old captain and chewing gum.

‘Morning Ms Amari.’ Hana replied happily, giving Ana a small wave of her fingers.

‘And what, pray tell, are you doing walking alongside me towards a ship with two Junker criminals.’ Ana asked, a smile playing on her lips.

‘I wanna see the Junkers.’

‘Do you remember me telling you not long ago to keep to your quarters?’ Her tone light.

‘Ooooh was that also for me? Sorry! I thought you just meant the Omnics’

‘I did not.’

‘..Sooo as I'm already here?’ she grinned cheekily

‘Inside now, young lady.’ Ana said more seriously, she however looked at the bold mech fighter and gave her a small wink.

Hana pouted but still did as she was told ‘Yes ma’am.’ she respectfully replied, disappointedly turning around and heading back the way she came. The orca landed, engines dying down. Ana waited as the gangway came down with Morrison the first to step out.

‘Marhabaan bik fi albayt.’ Said Ana, greeting Jack as he approached.

‘You too, what was she doing here?’ He nodded pointedly at Hana’s retreating back.

Ana ignored his question. ‘Angela is waiting in the med bay, Is Rutledge stable to walk?’

‘Should be, I want Fawkes moved now, get him in a holding cell as soon as possible.’

‘Trouble?’

‘Apart from being a smart ass no, but i’d be happier knowing he's not going anywhere whilst we debrief.’

Ana nodded in agreement, eyes turning to the gang way as Junkrat walked down, escorted by McCree. His hair was tousled after a couple hours very light sleep. Jerking awake after every turbulence, anxiety hitting him hard in the gut as he tried to remember where he was, until the deep breathing of Roadhog beside him settled him down. He wished he had some kind of weapon, Roadhog didn't have much left in him to protect Junkrat and there was no way he could create a device around him without alerting one of their captors. His bodyguard injured, stripped of his weapons, even his toolkit eventually confiscated, he felt vulnerable and trapped. Honestly, it was good to get fresh air and be in the open. He scanned his new environment, feeling the safe presence of Roadhog behind him and stepped onto the landing pad, eyes meeting Anas.

Ana smiled at him, hands neatly folded behind her back. ‘Welcome to Gibraltar.’ she said politely. ‘My name is Ana Amari, second in command to Morrison and former captain of Overwatch.’

‘Yeah yeah, how do you do and all that, old lady. Where's this doc of yours?’

‘Rutledge will be escorted to medical and kept under armed guard whilst Dr Ziegler treats him. You Fawkes, will be taken to a holding cell until further notice.’

Junkrat looked between Roadhog and Morrison, confusion and anxiety beginning to show on his face.‘Nah mate nah..i'm going with him. Don't know what you fuckers got planned even with your so called promises. We stay together got it?’

‘This is simply a precautionary. Your friend needs aid, we need to debrief. You need to be in a secure location whilst these things happen. It will be temporary and you will be comfortable, we will inform you on how Mr Rutledge is doing. In time you may see him.’ Said Ana, her voice carrying authority however remaining calm and friendly and smiling like the situation had already unfolded to her liking. She reminded Junkrat of someone he knew years ago. Despite himself he took an instant liking to her.

He looked to Jack, ‘Old lady telling the truth there mate?’

Jack side eyed Ana, annoyance playing on his face. She returned the look, the smile never leaving her lips, however her eyebrows ever so slightly raised daring jack to challenge her word. This time he relented.

‘Fine. Fawkes, I'll take you to holding. Captain Amari and McCree will escort Rutledge to medical. If you both remain calm and not cause any trouble you will be reunited eventually. understand?’

‘Crystal mate.’ He turned to Roadhog, giving him a strained smile, his voice still anxious. ‘Gonna be fine yeah mate, just fix up so you can do yer job.’ Roadhog gently put his hand on Junkrats shoulder, saying something too quietly and muffled under his mask for anyone to hear but him. Junkrat nodded. ‘ Yeah I know..no worries. See you later mate.’ He patted his living hand againsts hogs and chewed his lip as Roadhog slowly began to walk with Ana and McCree. He listened as his friends heavy laboured breath became more distant and eventually watched him disappear into one of the many units and buildings around the landing area.

Morrison stepped forward to stand beside him. ‘This is just safeguarding the risks Fawkes.’

‘Yeah..i get it.’ He looked towards the Orca as the chopper and weapons began to be unloaded.

‘Let's go.’ said Morrison, pointing with his Pulse rifle towards nearby barracks. Looking once more to the door Roadhog went through Junkrat reluctantly began to move.

Roadhog walked down the hallway approaching two doors adjacent to each other. One had SURGERY boldly signed on the double doors. The other said MEDICAL. A couple of chairs, a coffee table with a small pile of years old magazines on top and a water cooler sat outside the rooms. Ana picked up a magazine as she walked past and went through the medical doors beckoning Roadhog to follow. He entered the large white and pristine room, small sanitation bots hovered just above the spotless floor awaiting on any dirt or germs to dispose off. There where six beds in all, along with an examination table and cupboards stocked with medical equipment. A large metal cabinet was on the wall with coded access for drugs and medicines. A blonde woman had her back to him, opening cupboards and drawers and talking to herself in Swiss German. She closed a cupboard door and turned, smiling to Roadhog and addressing him.

‘Gutentag Mr Rutledge my name is Dr Angela Ziegler. From the handover Commander Morrison gave me I suspect you may have punctured a lung. If you may, please sit down over there.’ She gestured to the examination table. He obliged and sat, the height mechanism sinking down under his weight. He looked at the doctor who was now conversing with Ana and McCree. Whatever was being discussed had ended as Angela returned to Roadhog, Ana sat on a chair nearby opening her magazine and flipping through the pages as McCree left the room to wait outside.

She pulled the curtain around the examination area.

‘Some privacy, now I understand you have already been treated with a biotic emitter and oxygen yes?’

He grunted in reply.

‘And Hogdrogen?’

Another grunt.

‘Something to discuss after your injuries are seen to.’ She said picking up a small machine from the nearby counter. It looked almost like a scanner, turning it on it emitted a small graph like projection on Angelas hand as she tested it. Scanning her bones, muscles and nerves as she went through each setting with the results showing on the screen.

‘Mr Rutledge, if you can please remove your shoulder pads?’

He obliged. Finding it amusing that this seemingly unafraid woman was speaking to him like he was an everyday patient getting a flu shot, not a vicious mercenary killer from hell on earth. He did notice the pistol holsted to her side however. He placed his shoulder pads next to him on the table as Dr zeigler began scanning his arm and moving across his chest. She stopped now and then at certain areas, recording the information. She lingered on his heart, glancing up at him before continuing. Eventually she turned the scanner off.

‘Mr Rutledge, you have a punctured left lung as expected and 3 fractured ribs from impact. There is some bruising of course but this is no concern and will heal on its own. I can treat you now for the punctured lung, simply a small biotic injection. I can give you pain relief for the fractures and medication to speed up recovery but this will mostly require rest of up to three weeks to heal.

He nodded.

‘How long have you been using Hogdrogen?’

He shrugged. ‘Years.’

‘You are aware it is highly addictive and not approved by your government?’

‘Yes..’

‘And its side effects?’

He ignored the question.

‘Have you been assessed by any medical professional since leaving the outback?’

He gave a bark of laughter. ‘You're the first in years Doc.’

‘I see. Mr Rutledge, preliminary scans show some things that are concerning..with your permission Id like…’

He waved her off. ‘Not interested Doc, just get me fixed so i can keep an eye on Rat.’

‘Verstanden.. its for discussion if you so choose. Id also like to examine your partner.’

Roadhog barked out a laugh. ‘Fucking good luck to ya, I've seen the extremes he's gone to avoid doctors. Made me dig out a bullet in his leg once and cauterize it. Little shits a glutton for punishment..’

She grimaced before asking; ‘Can you tell me of any symptoms he may have of radiation poisoning..nausea..vomiting..bleeding..?

He grunted.. ‘He had some hair loss, though coulda been he burned it off. Mostly grown back after we left the Outback. Government sent in treatment for radiation, only help they gave. Still not good but least we don't suffer the tumors and worst effects. Physically he’s fine..well, apart from the obvious. Not like his mental state.’

‘What can you tell me of that?’

‘Nothing. Not my place.’

‘Of course.’ She said, taking a syringe from one of the drawers. She then went to the locked cabinet, entering a code and taking a small bottle of biotic liquid. She pierced it with the needle and filled the syringe. ‘Your arm please Mr Rutledge.’

He presented her his arm and watch as the needle pierced through his thick skin, emptying its healing liquid into his arm. He felt it travel through his veins and settling on his chest. It was a strange tingling and warming sensation. The pain lessened and he found he could breathe easier despite the broken ribs.

‘Thanks,’ he grumbled.

‘You are Willkommen.’ Dr Zeigler replied brightly. She drew the curtain back, Ana looked up and placed her magazine aside.

‘Captain, Mr Rutledge will be staying in medical for the next hour or so whilst he receives treatment.’

‘Very well. I’m in the middle of a fascinating article about the history of embroidery. I'll be happy to remain here..’

‘Actually…’ Angela walked up to her, her voice lowering ‘I think we will be fine for the time being. I'm certain he won't harm me.’ Ana turned her hawk like gaze to Roadhog, glancing up at Angela who wore a determined expression. ‘Very well’. She said, standing up. ‘I will go make some tea and return soon.’ She opened the door, turning to Angela before she left. ‘McCree will remain outside.’

‘Of course Captain.’

The door closed, leaving Dr Zeigler alone with Roadhog. She turned to him smiling. ‘Mr Rutledge, before I apply biotic gel for your ribs I would like to also assess for head injuries. May you please remove your mask?’

He peered at her through the dark glass in his mask. She was bold he gave her that. Only Junkrat had seen him without his mask since he became Roadhog and even that was rare.

‘No.’

‘Very well. Any headache? Double vision?’

‘No.’

‘Sehr gut. Well then, please make yourself comfortable. The gel will need to sit for an hour or so.’

Roadhog shifted slightly, then pointed towards Ana’s discarded magazine. ‘I'll have a read of that.’

                     -----------------------------------------------------------

It was probably one of the nicer cells Junkrat had been in. There was even a small bed, not that he was getting any sleep in this strange environment. He sat on it, living foot twitching away, absentmindedly tugging at the fabric of the blanket on the bed with his living hand. He eyed the bars of the cell. Made of lasers, tripped to set an alarm off or electrocute him or slice him open if he touched them. He didn't fancy any of those things. His foot twitched all the more, getting more agitated by the second until he finally leant forward with both hands gripping his hair.

‘Fucking dammit!’

He was in a cell in a strange place, with strange people. Cut off from Hog, hunted by fucking terrorists just cos he ran his mouth over some stupid thing he found. He didn't think it was anything important, just something to sell at a price. Now it put a fucking huge price over his head. Even bigger than the authorities put on him for his world wide ‘shenanigans.’

He gripped his hair harder and clenched his teeth. His false limbs aching with phantom pain. Stress always made it worse.

His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. He sat up, quickly leaning casually against the wall behind him. Giving the appearance that he didn't give a shit about anything. That would piss Morrison off. But it wasn't Morrison, instead a young asian woman appeared outside the cell, wearing a pink bomber jacket with a bunny symbol emblazoned in it. She chewed on pink gum as she curiously peered at him. ‘Hiya!’ She cheerfully said.

‘Alrite there sheila?’

‘What kinda name is Junkrat?’

‘Think I got called it once. What kinda name is Drama Queen?’

‘D.va!’

‘Same thing isn't it?’

‘Sure you wasn't called Jerkrat?’

‘Probably, been called a lot of things darl.’

‘My names Hana, you?’

‘Jamison.’

She scrunched her face, ‘mm..dont like that either’

He rolled his eyes, ‘Fucking hell, Jamie then? Christ..’

‘Yeah suppose that will do.’

They grinned at each other, Junkrat leaning forward. ‘Give us some of that gum then.’

She fished in her pocket taking out a stick and kicking it towards him under the lowest laser. He picked it up, carefully unfolded it from its foil wrapper. He popped it in his mouth and delicately folded the foil back over. He glanced up from his task, ‘so what's a big Korean star and Mech pilot doing here and giving a big fuck you to the UN?’

‘It wasn't long ago I was injured fighting Omnics. I was on medical leave for months...that was when Overwatch contacted me. They want to stop a second Omnic crisis, the South Korean Omnium is sending more attacks and I wanted to help stop it for everyone.Luckily my General had ties with Overwatch from years back. He helped arrange my transfer here quietly. As far as everyone knows, i'm still on leave.’

‘Pretty fucking noble of you..’

‘Least Im trying to do something..’

‘Sounds like you had a choice love.’

Hana made an exasperated noise and rolled her eyes, ‘Are you a professional Jerk or something?’

‘Yeah I try..’ He toyed with the foil then grinned at her. ‘Wanna see a magic trick?’

Hana had not answered yet as Junkrat stood up and examined each side of the laser bars. He found what he was looking for, the main conduit which conducted the energy barely noticable on the wall. Delicately he placed the folded foil in between the conduit and the laser it was producing. Instantly the lasers went down, and Junkrat stepped out of his cell.

‘Ta da!’ He said smugly.

‘Hey you touch me Im gonna scream so loud-!’

‘Oh relax, not gonna hurt ya. Just wanna check on me mate.’ Junkrat waved her off and started walking down the corridor. Hana watched him go before deciding it was probably best not to leave him wandering around by himself and hurried to catch up to him.

‘You’re gonna get me in trouble!’

‘You’re the one that came down to see me.’

‘I’ll say you lied.’

‘I’ll say you gave me this gum.’ He blew a bubble.

‘Oh screw you.’ she crossed her arms and scowled as Junkrat grinned to himself. They walked a few more paces before she spoke again. ‘You don't know where you're even going.’

‘Sure I do, going to medical’

‘You don't know where that is.’

‘I know some of the ways.’

‘And then what?’

‘Improvise. Or you can just take me there.’

‘Well I can't leave you alone now.’

‘Better give me the tour then eh?’ He winked at her.

She side eyed him and gave a small smile. ‘Guess I’ll have to now. C’mon I’ll show you the common room.’’

The common room used to be one of the busiest rooms in the watch point where agents could unwind and catch up between missions. Now with only a small team it was hardly used. It had a large kitchen area with a door leading to a pantry, sofas, chairs, even a couple of bean bags. There was a large tv on the wall, a couple of consoles attached and the room even housed a sound system and pool table. There was also an outside seating area looking out over the Strait of Gibraltar. Lucio lounged on one of the sofas, a game of Hockey played on the tv. Headphones on he mouthed along to a song, not noticing the door slide open. He looked up as someone nudged his leg, Hana was leaning over him saying something.

Lucio took off his headphones ‘Wah?’

‘I said; you’re gonna damage your ears! Get up, come say hi to Jamie..’

‘Who?’ He gave her a confused look, sitting up and putting his headphones around his neck. He instantly noticed the stranger standing behind Hana with both hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

‘Alrite mate.’ Junkrat said removing a metal hand from his pocket and giving Lucio a small wave.

‘Oh hi!’ Lucio greeted him brightly before looking at Hana and grinning broadly at her. ‘You are in  so  much trouble! Jack and Ana are gonna be mad at you girl!’

‘They your fucking parents or something?’ Junkrat asked.

‘I wouldn't wanna piss Ana off..’

‘Then  why did you let him out Hana?!’

‘Ah in her defense, she didn't let me out on purpose.’

‘Shut up you tricked me.’

‘Sooo much trouble!’

‘Shut up Lu!

Lucio stood up from the sofa, walking around to casually lean on the back of it.

‘So you like...explode stuff?’

Junkrat shrugged. ‘Pretty much..and you like make music and start revolutions?’

Lucio shrugged and smiled ‘Pretty much.’

Hana shuffled from foot to foot, ‘Look we can all hang out and become besties later..but can you just check on your friend and get back to holding before I get in  serious  trouble!’

‘Reckon you need to relax love..’

‘She’s right. Better move before you’re caught.’

Junkrat rolled his eyes at them, ‘Right pair of goodies you are..alright c’mon then lets go.’

‘Laters Jamie.’ Said Lucio, watching Hana practically push him out the room.

They left the common room and continued down a corridor which lead back outside. Hana pointed out some dormitories which housed some of the team, ‘Me and some of the girls stay in there, It's cool we have our own rooms since there's so few of us.’ She pointed out Winstons lab and the training barracks, and the general direction of the briefing room. ‘Oh and that building over there is currently empty, don't know what it was for. A Lot of this place is empty now. You’ve seen the landing area bla bla bla. Oh thats the workshop over there and there's the, wha..? Hey! Come back here!’

Junkrat had instantly made a bee line for the workshop, Hana once again trying to keep up with his stride even with an uneven gait. She stepped in front of him and pushed him back. ‘You can't just go where you want!’

‘Sure I can.’

‘No you can't!’

‘Pfft and who's gonna stop me? You?’ He gently pushed her aside and stepped into the workshop. It was a large spacious area, machinery lining the walls as well as a few individual workstations. In the middle of the room a large Mech used for moving heavy goods was suspended on a platform and lift. An extensive tool locker sat at the back of the large room. Junkrat took it all in grinning. ‘This is fucking awesome, what do you do here exactly?’

‘Hmm not too much. Torb and Brigitte work in here mostly. Fixing weapons and armor, I sometimes bring my Meka in here when it needs work.’

He flexed his metal hand, aware that it needed repairing soon. ‘Yeah this’ll do.’

A clanging noise and cursing nearby caught their attention and watched as a short man sporting a huge beard and gear tattoos clambered from underneath the Mech and throwing a wrench at it clearly not noticing the pair behind him. Hana quickly darted out of sight, frantically beckoning Jamison to join her. Instead he approached the man who was now kicking the Mech. ‘Lousy, stupid machine!’

‘What's wrong with it?’

‘Ah the damn hydraulics broke in the arm..’

‘Liquid contamination?’

‘Well that's the first thing I looked f…..’ Torbjorn cranked his head up, looking up at the Junker criminal who should by all accounts be in a cell.

‘What the..? What the hell are you doing here?! How did you get out?!’

‘Magic trick.’

‘Well you are going straight back in!’ He grabbed Junkrat's arm and began pulling him away, unfortunately for Torbjorn he struggled against the Junkers height over him causing Junkrat to giggle. ‘Alright calm down lil hobbit.’

Torbjorn pulled him down, almost face to face and glared angrily at him. ‘That is the first and last time you call me that boy.’ He growled. Junkrat held his hands up, ‘Alright mate loud n clear..’ Torbjorn muttered under his breath and began moving towards the communicator on the wall.

‘Have you checked for aeration?’

Torbjorn paused. ‘Of course I have!’

‘And for cavitation?’

‘Yes I..wait. No.’ He turned back around and returned to the Mech, pointing a finger at Junkrat as he passed. ‘You stay right there…’ He inspected the hydraulic valve and pump, not saying anything as Junkrat slowly leaned over to watch what he was doing. Finally the answer was in front of him, a loose fitting on the suction pipe. He turned to reach for a wrench and found it being already handed out to him by Junkrat who had a slightly smug smile on his face.

Torbjorn begrudgingly took it and screwed the fitting tight on the pipe, He went to the controls and powered up the Mech. Its engines rumbled into life. He tested the malfunctioning arm, its hydraulic clamps now moving up and down with no fault.

‘You gotta be kidding me….’ Torbjorn muttered.

‘Yeah pretty obvious, dunno why you didn't check that first.’

Torbjorn narrowed his eyes and regarded him, ignoring the jibe. ‘How did you learn about mechanics?’

Junkrat shrugged. ‘Taught myself mostly.’

‘How old are you boy?’

‘Fuck...er...twenty..three? Twenty four?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Twenty five!’

Torbjorn said nothing, yet his expression had softened ever so slightly. He placed the wrench back into the toolbox and picked it up, handing it to Junkrat. ‘Put that back in the tool locker and touch  nothing  else!’

He took the box from the gruff man and walked over to the locker, eyeing up the tools and parts neatly stored and labelled. His inquisitive mind itched to open the drawers, handle the tools and above all else fix his prosthetic hand which still had its more intricate parts exposed. He turned away, he could always sneak back in later. Torbjorn was still watching him, behind his back Junkrat noticed Hana had snuck out from her hiding place and had disappeared. Probably for the best, she seemed an alright girl.

‘Look boy, Morrison needs to know you’ve gone missing. Up to me, I could keep an eye on you here.’

‘Yeah seems fair mate. Hey can I move the Mech?’

‘No. I'll do it and you are going to stay right there.’

Torbjorn went to the lift controls, twisting a knob and pulling a lever down, the platform pivoting on its axis to stand the Mech upright. ‘Some advice boy..’ He said over his shoulder. ‘Keep out of trouble here, can’t be running around after you whilst Talon tries to start a global war.’ Torbjorn turned around as the Mech slowed to an upright position. ‘If you do that then maybe Morrison will let you..’ But Junkrat had gone whilst Torbjorn had his back turned leaving him talking to himself.

‘Ahh shit.’ He muttered.

                     -------------------------------------------------------------

Morrison walked out of the armory, making sure himself that the Junkers weapons, explosives and hellish bike was stored away with the tightest security they could manage while Athena still had damaged components. The sun was rising high into the sky as he headed towards the barracks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hana sneaking towards the unit that held her living quarters.

‘Hana?’ He called out. ‘What are you doing?’

She gave a yelp and froze on the spot. ‘N-Nothing Commander Morrison! Just wanted to check on my Meka, going back to my dorm now sir!’

He eyed her, before letting whatever suspicion he had slide. ‘You do that, stay in there until you're relieved.’

‘Yes sir!’ She practically ran into the unit. He briefly wondered what had flustered her as he headed into the barracks and walked down the stairs towards holding.

‘Well Fawkes, I think we need to have chat.’ He called as he approached Junkrats cell. ‘Cooperate and maybe we can arrange for you to….you absolute  little SHIT!’ He slammed his fist against the wall, how the hell had he escaped?

           -------------------------------------------------------------------

McCree sat on one of the chairs in the hallway outside medical, absentmindedly twirling his gun in his hand. An empty mug on the coffee table after Ana had returned with a tray of tea. He slowly became aware of a strange tapping noise with what also sounded like a foot step getting closer. His attention turned down the hall, the cause of the noise becoming apparent as Junkrat appeared from around the corner.

‘What the hell..?’ McCree asked

‘Shut up I've had a time getting here.’

‘How?’

‘I’m magic.’ Junkrat replied, waggling his fingers in McCree's face and opening the door to medical stopping short at the sight before him. Roadhog was sitting up on a bed, reading a magazine with one hand and holding a mug with the other. His mask pulled up so slightly so he could drink. Sitting on a chair close to him with a rifle in her lap was the old lady from earlier, sipping her own tea from a pretty porcelain cup with its own saucer. A slender blonde woman was leaning on a counter writing something down on a clipboard. They all looked up as Junkrat opened the door.

‘Well..’ He said in an accusatory tone. ‘Don't this look cosy!’ He ignored the two women and McCree incessantly tapping him on the shoulder for some reason. He ignored the sound of someone running down the hall as he pointed at Roadhog. ‘You’re fucking kicking it up in here with the cyclops Granny, a bit of alright Doc and the sexy Cowboy, drinking fucking  tea  whilst i get holed up in a fucking cell by a fucking geriatric?! Where's my tea?! Get the fuck up we’re getting out of here now and will you stop fucking touching me..wha? Oh shit! FucK-AGHH!

Junkrat flew out of view as Morrison charged into him, tackling him hard to the ground. Roadhog went back to his magazine, ignoring his partners yelling and cursing and continued to read.

'Said he was a glutton for punishment.' He muttered.