#Like yeah we the readers should know he didn’t have any malcontent but in the story itself he was still a tyrannical ruler

[moonstruckme]

hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘

How could I refuse??

cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you. 

“Dollface?”

You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”

He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly. 

“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?” 

“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.” 

“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”

“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb. 

“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.

You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.” 

“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.” 

“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side. 

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.” 

“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up. 

“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform. 

You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.” 

“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.

“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.” 

“You thinking concussion?” James asks him. 

“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.” 

Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?” 

You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?” 

“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you. 

James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?” 

“No.” 

“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week. 

“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?” 

When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him. 

“Headache?” Remus asks you. 

“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.” 

“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?” 

You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse. 

“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts. 

You nod. 

“What did you have?” 

You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied. 

“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?” 

You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused. 

“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.

You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts. 

“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?” 

“I…I don’t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”

They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?” 

“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.” 

Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?” 

Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.” 

“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.” 

“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you. 

“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly. 

Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.

“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.” 

You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.” 

“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”

You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.” 

“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm. 

He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?” 

“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”

“Please don’t!” you call after James.

Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.” 

“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?” 

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”

Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly. 

Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.” 

You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.” 

You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”

His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.” 

[undyinglantern]

Listen, as big a fan of Arjuna as I am, and as much as it saddens me to see him be mischaracterized, I can’t exactly get upset at the people who do mischaracterize him? Idk like, most his actual characterization comes from his interludes and while yeah he is permanent, he’s also a 5 star in a game with a 1% ssr rate. Listen, I’ve been (actively) playing for 3+ years and still don’t have regular artoria or a few other long-time permanent 5* servants. Being permanent doesn’t guarantee that everyone will have them.

Same applies to alter but in a different sense. He’s literally the most limited ssr in the game to date. If you didn’t get him when he was released then you’re straight up out of luck. So if you don’t have him, the best you can contextualize him (without looking up outside resources) is his own lostbelt. And while we, the reader, do get to see some of his inner thoughts on a meta level, no one else in-universe is seeing that. The only confrontation we get to see of his flaws is 1)whenever Pepe expresses their disgust with how he’s running this world and 2) after the big climactic fight against karna where karna tells this to him:

And while this particular section is well written, it’s still a small one and could be easily forgotten. Or the details of this conversation could become fuzzy over time if you aren’t particularly invested in the characters one way or the other. Arjuna disappears shortly after this conversation and we still have to continue on with the plot and this lostbelt’s tree so we (the players) aren’t given much time to simmer over it either. Idk, maybe I’m being naive or too misgiving to people who clearly don’t put as much thought into these things as I have.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

[arazialotis]

Hunters Academy - Introduction

Word Count: Around 2200

Summary: The reader is looking for a way forward in life. A cryptic business card may provide her with a new opportunity at an unconventional school.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Special thanks and shout out to @misguidedconqueress for reviewing, editing, suggestions, and as always putting up with me.

—–

Your fingers eagerly tore through flimsy envelope, hoping your suspicion would be confirmed. Tossing the envelope aside, the single piece of paper crinkled in your hand as you read:

Your application appears to be promising. Make it to our location by September 31st and consider yourself accepted into the program. If you’re running late; don’t bother showing up at all. Good luck.

The letter was only signed with a black star surrounded by a circle of flames. The all too familiar mark of a hunter. Your mother made you wear a charm throughout your entire childhood. Even after her death when you were ten, you chose to wear it; the bracelet had become a part of you. It wasn’t until your 16th birthday you got it permanently tattooed on the side of your left rib cage. When your foster parents found out, they were furious. They never understood you though, nor your obsessive behaviors when it came to salt, holy water, and silver.

You were forced into psychological testing and tried your best to fake normalcy; to pretend everything was okay, to pretend the things that went bump in the night were just figments of the imagination. But your mom had raised you better. Instead of taking the prescribed pills, you just became better at hiding your secrets; convincing the world you had become cured. You had become so good at hiding you even convinced yourself… for a while.

It had seemed like just a phase. You went off to college to make your foster parents proud. But sophomore year was finishing up and you were running out of general education classes to take in order to avoid settling on a major. It wasn’t until you were spending a weekend back home, rummaging through storage, when you stumbled upon the box you had brought with you when you first arrived. You began pulling out memories; tattered gloves and a small scarf, wings you and your mom had made for a halloween costume, drawings of your mom fighting off monsters that probably were psychoanalyzed up the wazoo, and a small purse you used to collect key cards from your favorite hotels.

But what was most important was her journal. It was bound in brown leather, its corners and pages worn. You flipped open to the page bookmarked by your charm bracelet. Your fingers traced over the ink, almost being able to recall the sound of her scratching down details. She lived on through the words, still finding ways to speak to you. As you flipped through the pages, a plain white business card slipped out. On the front was simply printed “Academy” and the anti-possession symbol. On the back “Send Application” and a PO Box address in Nebraska.

You flipped the card back and forth, confused at the lack of information. You had never noticed it before even though you have flipped through the pages countless of times. Perhaps it was your mother speaking to you now and giving you a way forward. The idea stemming from your college applications, you decided to write an essay. This time including everything. Your mother, your upbringing, your malcontent for the white-picket-fence life, and overall desire to make an impact on the world.

And now, you were holding an acceptance letter. Well, half an acceptance, the full admittance on the condition of finding the school. The letter was just as cryptic as the business card. You picked up the envelope looking for more clues. Where the return address was, was a symbol you were unfamiliar with and it was posted from Kansas. You rubbed your eyes after hours of searching through the web, trying to identify this symbol. Even the established hunting community websites did not seem to have any information posted.

Grabbing another cup of coffee, you flipped through the journal again as it always seemed to have the answers you were searching for. Your attempt to turn on ‘The Wall’ in order to keep you awake was futile, eventually sleep won you over.

The next morning you awoke, filled with dreams of the academy slipping away. In the daze of waking consciousness, you reached to the journal to see where you had left off. In the corner of the page was the unknown symbol. You jolted up immediately. There was no explanation, simply the symbol and coordinates.

Looking up the coordinates, you easily pinpointed the location in Kansas, the nearest town Lebanon. Having no idea what you were in store for, you packed the only the basics into a duffel and walked out of your foster parents’ home with no intention of returning.

—

The drive was long, but you stayed focused with the help from classic rock and gas station snacks. As you drove through Lebanon, your ‘72 red Ford Mustang didn’t stick out as much as it usually did. It seemed things around here didn’t change very often. You stopped at a gas station to grab a map of the area, seeing which road would get you closest to the coordinates.

Having driven up and down a paved road a few times, you stopped at an unmarked dirt road and decided to see if it would lead to your destination. You slowed down as you approached what you could only described as an abandoned factory or warehouse. Leaving your car locked on the side road you went in for a closer look. The door had the same symbol from the letter and journal.

You didn’t let your nerves get the best of you, after knocking three times, you unlatched the door. Stepping in, you were surprised by the immediate drop into what looked like a scene straight out off Dr. Strangelove. A man with sandy brown hair and a bathrobe was making his way up the iron stairs.

“You’re early.” He grumbled.

“Better than late, I suppose.” You greeted him.

“Coffee?” He offered.

“Sounds wonderful.” You followed him through the war room and the library, and into an industrial sized kitchen. He poured both of you a fresh cup. “So, I am assuming I found the right place.”

“Mmhmm.” He mumbled through a sip. “But we weren’t expecting students for at least a few more days.”

A taller man, with long brown hair, walked through the kitchen. “Oh, hello?” He greeted you with surprise.

You shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Sam Winchester. And my brother Dean.” He introduced both of them.

“Winchester? Any relation to a John?” You asked.

Both of them exchanged shocked glances. “Our father actually… you knew him?” Dean questioned.

“Yes. Well, not really I suppose… he and my mother hunted together when I was young. So I know him through her journal, not from actual memories.” You explained.

Sam furrowed his brow, analyzing your features. “You’re not Y/N Y/L/N?” Dean perked up from hearing your last name.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

Sam laughed out loud. “I don’t know if you would even remember this, but uh, we’d babysit you sometimes… you could have only been two or three at the time.”

“Yikes, hopefully not too many embarrassing stories you can throw in my face.” You gritted your teeth.

“Not at all,” Sam chuckled. “You were an easy kid and Dean was off at the arcade avoiding any work you caused.”

“Shut up.” Dean chastised. “Nah, I remember. You liked playing with my army guys except what usually started out as an epic battle always turned into house.” Dean snickered. Your cheeks turned red. “How is your mom anyways?”

“Oh um… she actually passed away when I was 10… Or at least I think that’s what happened.” You somberly revealed. “She never came back from a hunt. Cops found me at a motel and I’ve been in the foster care system ever since.”

“Oh Y/N, I am so sorry.” Sam sympathized.

“Yeah, I’ve had my ups and downs. The last family I’ve been with wasn’t too bad. Even let me stay with them after I aged out. Feeling a little bit guilty for ditching them.” You continued to confide.

“God, that must be tough. We lost our dad but just a few years back.” Dean admitted.

“I’m sorry to hear. From what my mom wrote about him, he seemed like a nice guy.”

“Ups and downs. But he left this place to us.” Dean answered.

“So did he run it?” You asked.

Both slightly chuckled. “No, I don’t think he stepped foot into this place since he was a kid.” Sam responded. “But his dad was part of it. It was an organization called the Men of Letters. They were focused more on the research and artifacts. But they opened their doors for young hunters to learn information and be better equipped.” “But it never carried on. A knight of Hell wiped out their entire faculty and it never reopened until we came around.” Dean continued. “So we run this every now and then when we need a break from hunting.”

“Initially we weren’t going to do it, just leave it as our home, but we decided it was better to be a support and resource to hunters, rather than them starting with no direction at all.” Sam added.

“How did you find us anyways?” Dean questioned.

“Like how I get all my answers, my mom’s journal. Your dad must have written the location down for her, maybe for like safe house or something. It came with a PO address too, since other things haven’t been working out, figured I’d give it a shot.” You explained. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t what you were going for, pretty intense screening process.”

“We want to ensure people know what they’re signing up for.” Sam said. “But you should have just explained who you were in your essay. We could have come and picked you up ourselves.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t want to let loose with all the juicy details in case it had just been set up as some elaborate prank…” You defended.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. We could have some fun with that.” Dean pondered.

Sam immediately changed the subject. “So did you drive Y/N?”

“Oh yeah, got my baby out front.” You responded. Dean grunted, there was only one Baby.

“Why don’t you drive it around to the garage?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, okay.” You agreed and left the room.

“What do you think?” Sam asked Dean.

“She’s got potential.” Dean thought.

You pulled into the garage, gaping at the amazing collection of antiques. You pulled into an empty parking space. The boys wandered over to take a look at your ride as you got out with your duffel bag.

“Okay, first lesson.” Dean started. “You can’t fit a body in this trunk.”

“Maybe not in one piece.” You winked at him. “So does your school come with a room or just a parking space?”

Dean and Sam led you through the bunker. “After seeing Sam’s pathetic excuse for a living space, you’ll be pleased to know, this is where the magic happens.” Dean opened his door.

You glanced around. It was surprisingly clean, plainly decorated aside from the weapons hanging on the wall, and you couldn’t help but desire to go through his record collection.

Dean shut the door and continued the tour. “This room and all down the hall this way are currently open.” You opened the door, it was basically the same layout as Dean’s. Sam piped up. “This is the only other bedroom with a private bathroom. There is a common space up on the left.”

“Well, that makes the decision easy.” You threw your duffel on the bed.

“In that case, make yourself comfortable. And if you ever need anything,” Dean knocked on the adjoining wall. “I’m right next door.”

As they walked out you overheard a soft slap and Sam lecturing Dean. “No sleeping with the students.”

“Dude, I know… that’s not what…” Dean defended.

A few days had passed and no other students had shown up. You got familiar with the routine and even made the boys breakfast on more than one occasion. Sam even let you start breaking into some of the books.

“So Y/N.” Dean entered the library. “A case came up for me and Sam. Since it is still a couple days until the 31st, we’re going to take it. If you wouldn’t mind holding down the fort?” “Okay. But what if students show up?” You questioned.

“Yeah, just welcome them in, show ‘em around, maybe make some more of those killer pancakes…” Dean suggested.

“Umm.. not that I’m not trustworthy… but isn’t this a lot of responsibility for a person you just met?” You contemplated.

“See, you saying that gives me all the trust I need.” He started to head out. “Also, the place is rigged with cameras… except the bedrooms… actually my bedroom is…”

“This isn’t just another one of your ‘screening tests’ is it?” You skeptically questioned.

“That would be a great idea. But no, it’s not. Call if anything comes up… and if we don’t come back… well, we usually do, so don’t worry.” Dean rambled. “Alright, see ya.”

“See ya.” You repeated back before being left alone in the bunker.

——

Part 1

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