#Once again none of this matters and I really need to stop thinking about supernatural

[acesammy]

My headcanon for how lucifer!sam happened in ‘the end’ has always been that the events of season 5 played out essentially the same, but Dean and Sam weren’t together. I just think that Sam had a plan where he’d cage lucifer againby saying yes, but - as we see in swan song - Dean is the lynchpin that holds that plan together. Without Dean showing up, it all goes to shit and the apocalypse proceeds

[imaginefan]

The User *Part 2*

Damon Salvatore X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 727

Requested: Anon

Request: Please make part 2 of the user but reader won't give into damon cuz he really hurt her. AND Omg that was an amazing oneshot of Damon! Will there be a part 2?

*Part 1*

Since breaking up with Damon you had gotten your life back on track and basically ignored that he existed unless he came in for a drink when you were on shift. You still helped with the supernatural stuff and since you knew a lot about patching up humans you were called on when people were hurt bad but lucky for you that never extended to Damon.

Damon on the other hand realized the mistake he had made, he missed everything that you did for him and how well you could read him without having to have a whole discussion about his feelings. He wanted to fix what he had done and honestly he was under the impression that he could.

Damon wanted to give you some time before he approached the subject which was why he was attempting to talk to you about this now a couple of months after the incident had happened, he knew that you were on the closing shift at The Grill. He waited for everyone to leave before he walked in. “We’re closed.” You called. “Good thing I’m not here for a drink.” He said and he watched as you continued to clean, you didn’t stop once in your movement. “You're not interested in what I want?” “No.” You answered as you walked to the next table cleaning it. “Hear me out…” He pleaded as he followed you. “For who’s benefit?” You asked. “Yours? You can’t expect me to care for your feelings when you couldn’t do the same for me.” “(Y/N)-” “Damon, leave.” You ordered, you continued cleaning even if he was still in the restaurant, you didn’t look back to check, you didn’t care, instead you finished your work and by the time that you finally did finish he was gone.

“Where have you been?” Stefan asked as Damon walked back into the house. “None of your business.” He answered. “She didn’t listen to you did she?” Stefan asked. “Why do you insist on asking questions you already know the answer to?” Damon walked over to his Bourbon pouring himself a drink and attempting to ignore his brother. “You know, you’ve not given her enough time to forgive what you’ve done.” Stefan informed him from his place leaning against the doorframe. “Oh yeah and how much time do you think I should give?” Damon asked. “More than this, I mean she may never forgive you but maybe you should try being her friend again before you try winning her back.” Stefan suggested. “Why are you helping me?” Damon asked. “Well you are my brother, I’m stuck with you no matter what you do, so I should probably try helping you be a better person.” Stefan answered “plus I’m sick of seeing you moping around this place.” “Whatever.” Damon waved him away.

Stefan decided to go and see you, he knew that you’d probably need someone to talk to after the encounter with Damon, so when he knocked on your bedroom door, he expected 1 of 2 things, you were crying or you wanted to punch something. “Come in!” You called, when he opened the door you glanced at him and waved. “If you're here to tell me to give Damon a chance then you are a terrible friend.” “I was not going to tell you to give him a chance, that’s up to you.” He answered as he walked over to sit on your bed. “I think he’ll be back though, so I gave him some advice.” “If it wasn’t leave me alone then you are still a terrible friend.” You mumbled not looking up from your book. “Well it wasn’t leave you alone…” You glanced at him “I told him to stop pursuing a relationship and try and friendship instead. It might help you too.” “Help me how?” You asked. “I don’t need his help.” “Yes you do… The reason you're so angry and the reason that you can’t heal is because you can’t forgive him, you don’t understand why he did what he did.” Stefan explained. “You need to hear the reason from him.” “I’ll think about it.” You finally answered and he nodded. “That’s all I ask.” Stefan smiled as he stood, he leaned over pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to feel better.” “Yeah me too.” You mumbled as he left.

*Part 3*

Requests and general question!

[velathetanager]

concept: the necrocloaker finds out that hey, being able to turn off that one human's anti-supernatural touch ISN'T a normal thing to be able to do and starts doing it whenever dallas (along with the rest of the crew) is in his realm to show off, to the point that "make dallas stop freaking out or keep him doing stuff anyway" becomes a routine part of the halloween nightmare.

and i mean. the heisters know he won't remember any of the nightmare, so if they /really/ need him to be somewhere or do something he isnt right then, they can simply force him to with supernatural abilities) to get him going with them. especially if him not doing whatever it is (or not keeping up) will put him and/or the crew in immense danger. sure they normally wouldn't hurt him like this, but theyre used to his fear every time halloween rolls around, and it's better than letting him get himself killed bc he's too confused and scared to prioritise properly.

houston is against it bc who the fuck would wanna see their brother be hurt like that just bc he wont remember itand it's consodered important enough (and Boy if that doesnt hit a nasty spot for mr "had his memory wiped magically seven different times"), only to have to do so himself. oh you dont wanna see your brother look at you with fear again? how about we make him look at you with /complete terror/ bc you grabbed him with eldritch stuff to save his life? dallas gets pulled into safe range and immediately scrambles away from houston and houston's torn between anger at the rejection after /saving him/ and guilt at scaring his brother so much when he knows dallas has zero exposure to his abilities or even understanding that kay-via-houston wouldn't be trying to hurt him.

tldr: halloween nightmare, dallas getting his anti-supernatural taken away every time, houston has to scare the fuck out of his brother to save his life by grabbing him out of a hazard with Eldritch Powers or smth, and he feels bad bc dallas was visibly fucking terrified of him. one of these days ill send you an ask at a reasonable hour without rambling lmao

Oh yeah, that would crush Houston so bad. And he can't force the issue with the others because the only way to get them to listen would be to let Kay lash out, which is a bad idea because one, that would make Dallas MORE scared than he already is, two, none of the heisters know Kay exists and he wants it to stay that way for now, and three, he's seen Kay in a fight. And now he can see why people think what they do about void monsters.

It still puts him in a bad mood for a while after each heist. He'll always visit Dallas more frequently after the Necro Cloaker turns up, bring him stuff, and once or twice he'll even give his big brother a hug. And as for the rest of the heisters, he'll barely say a word to them for like two weeks. Wolf puppeteered Dallas for a bit during one nightmare and the way Houston looked at him during breakfast the next day made him genuinely afraid of a human for the first time.

Not helping matters is that Kay makes those feelings worse just by her presence. Eventually Houston is gonna want to leave or do something worse, and no one will have a good reason for him to stay with them.

[renewingagain]

thursday 11 feb 2024 // 12:26am

a couple of grounding thoughts

i do not want to grow old with regret. life is fleeting. things can end at any moment. (not that i want them to obviously) but i do not wish to have a moment of regret. yeah i know it is inevitable but it can be lessened. i dont want to look back and think i could have taken control of my life earlier. i need to take control now. i need to get my shit together so i can just be where i wanna be, have my life sorted and then do the music-y things i wanna do

what is only 1 year of grinding (not even a full year necessarily) over the rest of my LIFE earning well, having joy, travelling, doing all the things i wanna do ?

imagine me looking back on my 20s when im like 60 and having them been wasted. that would suck lol. but just 1 year of graft for me to be happy i just gotta do it. otherwise my head is just gonna keep spinning round and round like it does everyday with anxiety and im tired of it lol. Cbaaaa

secondly, we all die LOL it sounds so morbid but again it is inevitable!! this one we cannot fully control. there will come a time where either i die, or my parents die, or my brothers die, or the people that i love die. therefore, why am i stressing and self-sabotaging and caring about the things that do not matter? this is only what matters. once something like this happens, i need to be ready and prepared to support the people i love. this boils down to the crux of just being a person of love. like Jesus.

get this new career sorted so i can start spoiling the people i love, so i can really start focussing on them again

thirdly, people die elsewhere. despite the govt being shite, the UK is overall a safe country. my heart breaks for palestine. it is categorically unfair and horrific what is going on over there, alongside all the other injustices that take place around the world. yet here is i, in a safe country, essentially where i can write my own narrative and have the world at my fingertips. I feel so ungrateful sometimes. i wish this would become more of a reality to me. i know those in palestine would be far more grateful to be safe in the way i am safe. i wish i truly understood how lucky and fortunate i am and most of us are to be in this country and not be at war, or living in what seems to be an unshakeable fear, with lives at risk, watching our own family murdered right by us and having to carry on

may this never happen but if any of my own family were murdered ???? the pit of heartbreak and nothingness i would feel. My God, none of this is fair for those who want to just live life. I wish i had the power to stop things like this

God it really does suck that this is happening around the world. Please stop it. I truly pray that those whom injustice is forced upon, that those who face persecution may know supernatural peace, only a God can make that happen. Only God can stop evil

[fragmcntedsouls]

Gianna’s business with Klaus had never been information that Ellis himself had been privy to. Although, if he was being completely honest – none of Gianna's business was information available to Ellis. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your family in person yet, but I know that my wife is particularly fond of Klaus.” 

His brow furrowed as he listened to Briggs’ explanation, encouraging for the tension to flee his frame as he simply listened. “I was insensitive, i’m sorry” he offered, his hand hovering against his chest, “I shouldn’t have asked – not like that.” Ellis had lived a relatively sheltered life, the revelation of the supernatural had been an adjustment, to say the least; but not because he didn’t believe, or because he feared them. Instead, because he feared for them. There was a pang of despair centring within his chest as Briggs explained Billie’s death in whatever detail he could and Ellis understood his protectiveness in its entirety. Raising his hand to slow Briggs down he insisted “no, no its alright. You’re not far off anyway. It’s –” shaking his head, Ellis had to stop himself from saying ‘it’s complicated’ again and with a sigh, he shrugged as any over the top celebrity persona faltered. “It’s just business. I – soften her public image.” The words themselves sounded awful and Ellis grimaced as they were spoken, but it was the plain and simple truth. “People like Gianna and I – we don’t have the luxury of marrying for love. You’re lucky that you can, that you've found that.” 

In four decades of life, never once had Ellis experienced a love like the kind that Briggs was explaining. Honestly, he didn't even know that kind did exist. He had once dared to believe that he and Gianna could learn to love each other and he tried – he fucking tried, but she wouldn’t let him in. Eventually, all that negative emotion just festered until it became poisonous here they were, trapped in their loveless marriage all because of public image and money. “I think i’m getting a pretty good idea of how you feel” he murmured truthfully. “But you have to be careful. Whatever you think you know about Gianna, that is only ever half of the story.” His wife was capable of some ruthless, awful things; yet another reason why he hadn’t left – couldn’t leave. “I want to help” and he did for the young man stood before him, but maybe a part of it was just a desire to bring down Gianna. “Your uh your wife" he began, running his palm against the back of his neck "has she seen a birth certificate? I mean an actual physical copy? and whatever happens, don’t let her sign any documents. Legally binding or otherwise, Gianna shouldn’t get her signature.” There was a nod and a hum of consideration, before his eyes widened and he asked “wait, hold on, go back to that... are you telling me that she can see death?” Wracking his brain for the word, he clicked his fingers “like a banshee? I’ve seen something, some paperwork in uh – a file from the OEA. It was documentation about some kind of trial or experiment, I think? It was in her office. She uh, caught me before I could open it up.” He could almost reach out and grasp the defeat, releasing an unsteady breath as his gaze softened “I don't think she can. Maybe that isn't Gianna's fault, or maybe it is. But you have to be careful. Mikaelson or not; that won't matter to her.” He really did need that drink now and so he nodded, forcing through an expulsion of breath “i’m liking you more and more.” 

"Holy shit," Briggs muttered under his breath, not that he'd ever cared much about being famous or any of that, but this was somethin'. He couldn't say he was entirely surprised that his family name was known to the other, especially considering who his wife was. "You'd be right about that," he confirmed proudly, "that's my family. Not a bad connection to have either, huh?"

He knew in his heart of hearts that Ellis had meant no harm, meant well, even. The amount of mind games he had to have endured, but it was reminder enough he couldn't be sure what the other believed. He couldn't just trust anybody anymore. "It's not--" he sighed, "I just don't like that word, it's permanent-sounding, a state of being. Like, my mom's dead, but with Billie, even though she stopped breathing in my arms and I felt her--" He didn't know why he was explaining this to Ellis, but he needed the understanding. "--It wasn't that, it was more like she was gone from me. And I could eventually go to her." Now that really was too much, so he tensed up as if shutting himself down. There was a twinge of discomfort as he realized he'd been equally insensitive back to Ellis. "Sorry, that's not my business," he murmured, before unable to stop himself from asking anyway, "but you're unhappy? You don't talk like someone in love, I mean. More like someone caged."

He looked at Ellis, something half-resembling a smile as he said, "I know you just met me but if you knew anything of how I feel about my wife, that wouldn't surprise you." He had failed her twice, there would be no chance it would happen again. "I don't want to get you into trouble, I can handle this myself if I need to, but I did think we could help each other. Take your minute, but just know, I'm not the sort to throw a friend under a bus to achieve my own ends." The next question was easier to answer than it had clearly been to ask, "I think she's capable of it. I can't be sure, there's certainly resemblance, but I do think she's lying about something. Lots of somethings probably. I'm not sure she'd know how to be genuine if it introduced itself to herself and gave her a step by step guide. I can't tell you why she would, but haven't people always wanted to know when they'd die? How they might prevent it, live a little longer?" It wasn't a pleasant thought, and he didn't want to dwell in it any more than Ellis did. "I wanted her to love Billie, I really did, even when it was obvious from the beginning she didn't like me. I just don't think she does. If nothing else, that much is true." Exhaling, he nodded in agreement. "My mom owns Rousseau's, so I can get us in the back and grab a bottle from the bar."

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[thebeautyoffanfics]

TBHK boys get break up pranked by reader ?angst to fluff please!!😢👉👈

kou minamoto x gn!reader, teru minamoto x gn!reader, akane aoi x gn!reader, tsuchigomori x gn!reader, hanako x gn!reader, tsukasa yugi x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader

a/n: heck yea, we love angst to fluff!!!! Thank you so much for requesting <33 (also, by tbhk boys, i just kinda,,, threw my favorites, and some characters that seem to be requested fairly often in there! If i missed anyone you particularly wanted to see, feel free to let me know, and i’ll gladly add them <3)

Also, I’m sorry that these are so short,,;; i’m not entirely sure how to lengthen them;;;; and I’m not sure how well they fit into angst to fluff,,,, i’m really sorry;;;

warnings: none <3

word count: 1,939

Kou Minamoto <3

“Kou, I… I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s going to work between us. I think we should break up.”

Please, don’t make me describe his face… please, don’t do this to me… my heart, my heart hurts just thinking about it. But- his heart hurts worse.

His eyes will widen, but they won’t be filled with the usual sparkle of joy he gets when looking at you. His usual smile and blush will quickly drain from his face, as he narrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“H… huh-?”

“You heard me, Kou. Don’t make me say it again.”

He does his best not to cry on the spot, and you’ll instantly start to feel guilty. You try not to let the guilt get under your skin just yet- it’s a prank. You know it’s a prank, but Kou doesn’t.

“Why? What- what did I do?”

“It’s nothing you did, Kou. We just… can’t work out. Really, it isn’t you.”

His mouth forms a straight line, slightly panicking, but he’ll nod. That… makes sense. No- no, it really doesn’t- not for your relationship. You seemed happy, didn’t you? Did he say something? Did he hurt you? What happened-??

“No, wait, Kou, no- don’t cry, don’t cry-”

“I’m not! No worries, (Y/N), it’s fine, I’ll-”

“It’s a prank, Kou! Please, don’t cry-”

He’d pause, blinking a bit, then tilting his head slightly- confusion written all over his face.

It settled in for a moment, as you hugged him, Kou hugging back instantly. Once it clicked, he was instantly relieved, tightening the hug a bit and huffing.

“You scared me, (Y/N)... I wasn’t crying though. But you did scare me- please, don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Kou, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Teru Minamoto <3

“I’m sorry, Teru, but I don’t think things can work between us anymore. It’s not you, I just… think we should see other people.”

He’ll raise his eyebrows, then narrow them, confusion evident on his face, much like his brother reacted. He wouldn’t lose his cool- he wouldn’t get emotional. However, he did feel his heart aching.

“Ah… alright. I’m sorry if I did anything, (Y/N). Is there any way we could make things work? Talk to me.”

“You didn’t do anything, Teru. I just- I just don’t think it can work. Sorry.”

Teru bit his lip a bit, nodding. He turned, planning to walk away, but-

But you wouldn’t let him walk away :)) so, you grabbed his wrist.

He’d turn around, offering you a confused expression, the hurt still evident on his face. Honestly, he really needed to get home to sort out his emotions. “If you would, please, let go, (Y/N).”

“Sorry, sorry, Teru! Can’t do that!” You chirped, tugging him a bit so he’d face you.

Our boy is so confused- why are you suddenly in a better mood??

OH-

“It was a prank!” You declared, tossing your hands up, “don’t be mad, please!”

Teru sighed, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness, (Y/N). I was so scared… of course, I wasn’t about to let you go that easily, but, still-”

He pulled you into a hug, resting his head on top of yours. Expect a slightly more affectionate Teru- he’s gonna be a tad bit paranoid now. No way is anyone gonna take you from him >:((

Akane Aoi <3

“Akane, I think we should… break up.”

Panic. Instant panic. You can see the panic on his face immediately, as his eyes widen.

No, no way. This couldn’t be happening to him- years of pining after Aoi, only to have you introduced into his life. You were someone he loved as dearly as he did Aoi. Someone who returned his feelings.

Having you love him was the best feeling ever… this, on the other hand, was anything but nice.

“Break up-? Why??”

He’ll reach for your arms, heart breaking when you stepped back, looking away from him. To him, you were looking away because you felt bad for having to split up. In reality, you were looking away to avoid the guilt slowly bubbling up in your stomach. It’s a prank- that’s what you had to tell yourself. In just a few moments you could hug him and smother his precious face in kisses.

“Because… you’re,” You stepped forward, booping his nose, “too cute!”

“........(Y/N), I promise you, if this is a prank-”

“It’s a prank~!”

Akane groaned, rolling his eyes, but placing his head against your shoulder. “(Y/NNNNN), honestlyyyyy.”

You patted his back, then wrapped your arms around him, kissing the side of his face gently. “I’m sorry, Akaneeee...”

“You’re fine…” He responded, wrapping his arms around you. He may sulk just a tiny bit, but he won’t be like that for long. By the next day, he’ll be acting normal- though he may use that prank against you lightheartedly.

Tsuchigomori <3

“Tsuchigomori… I’m sorry, but I think we should see other people,” You spoke. Goodness knows you had to put all of your acting skills into this one, since Tsuchigomori could see through lies easier than anyone else you knew.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” “(Y/N), you literally cannot keep secrets from me. Lying is no different. What kind of prank is this? A trend?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair- your reaction brought a grin to your spider-like boyfriend’s face.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure I would have been fairly hurt if you were being genuine, so… don’t bother with jokes like that.”

(Actually, there was a part of him concerned that you were being honest. But! He trusted his instincts, praying that you were just joking. He had never been happier to tell truth from lies.)

Hanako <3

“Hanako… I’m sorry, I don’t think things will work between us. We should break up.”

“Hah?”

A million thoughts run through his mind, despite his somewhat unreadable expression. Was it because he was dead? Of course- he knew it would happen. Who would be willing to date a ghost? A murderer at that. He was unlovable. He knew it.

“...I understand, (Y/N), but… don’t play with my heart like that.”

“I’m not playing around, Hanako. Stop taking everything like it’s a joke.”

Hanako shrugged, ignoring how his heart ached. “I think the joke is you not considering things like the obvious before you accepted my confession. Dating a supernatural is clearly not easy, and you walked into this knowing that.”

This time, you were the one with an unreadable expression. What… did he mean? Was he scolding you? Or… rejecting your rejection-?

“What do you mean?” You sighed, faking annoyance as you placed a hand on your hip.

“I mean, you got yourself into this relationship, so you should be willing to stick with it until the end~. I get it though, so, if you really didn’t think that far, then so be it-”

“Fine, I give in.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, holding a hand to his mouth, curious as to what you were about to say. Did he really just uno reverse your break up?

“It was aaaaaa prank,” You added, pulling your lower eyelid down and sticking your tongue out. It was impressive- you almost seemed similar to him! Impressive indeed!

Hanako grinned, the pain on his heart being suddenly lifted as he basically tackled you into a hug. Kisses were placed against your cheek, before he nuzzled the side of his face into yours.

“I knew you couldn’t do me like that, (Y/NNNN)~.”

Did he really know that? Of course not. And that fear would never leave him, worrying that he would one day not be enough for you. But! For now, the two of you were together, happy in the relationship you were in. That was enough for him <3

Tsukasa Yugi <3

“We should break up, Tsukasa. I’m really sorry, it just… can’t work.”

Won’t let you break up with him. He won’t- he genuinely won’t.

Clings to you, pouting up at you, as you look down at him, feigning sadness.

“I’m sorry, Tsukasa- please, let go of me.”

“Nope! You’re mine, (Y/N). You can’t break up with me!! You’re mine- forever and ever, no matter what!”

(His expression was wide-eyed and somewhat innocent, but thinking about his words… they were certainly questionable.)

You tried to play along a bit more. Telling him you were serious, attempting to push him away. But, that was to no avail. Tsukasa wasn’t giving in, so you eventually had to-

“Alright, alright. It was a prank, Tsukasa… though I guess it didn’t get far with you.”

“Haha! Nope! And you won’t get far either <3”

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

Honestly? Who knows what that meant. You didn’t get it, and you couldn’t be sure Tsukasa understood either. All he knew was he loved you- therefore, he wouldn’t let you do something so silly like break up with him! Like Tsuchigomori, he's virtually impossible to break-up prank- like Hanako, he's virtually impossible to actually break up with.

Mitsuba Sousuke <3

“I… I think we should break up, Mitsuba. It’s not you, really-”

“Tch. Of course it isn’t me, idiot,” Mitsuba interrupted. He wasn’t there to listen to the extent of your acting skills (though he didn’t realize you were acting). “If you’re gonna split up with me, just get it over with. We should break up? Fine. Not like a pervert like you deserves someone as cute and pure as me anyway.”

Despite his words and furrowed eyebrows, his eyes alone showed how heartbroken he felt. His lower lip trembled a bit, though he attempted to stop it by pouting. No, he wouldn’t be the one crying in this situation! Not yet, at least-

“Great then. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You retorted, laughing bitterly. Ahh, no, this was getting too real for him- you were serious, weren’t you? Could this be a joke?

Mmh, who cared? Mitsuba was here to defend himself, even if it was at the cost of your feelings. If you were going to hurt his heart like that, then he’d do his best to take a jab at yours- or at least your ego.

“Great. Then, why are you lingering? Getting a last look at my cute face?”

“Hm… yeah-”

“Pervert.”

“Excuse mE, let me finish,” You sighed, ruffling his hair lightly, “surprise! It’s a prank!”

His face was honestly golden- his reaction to hearing that it was a prank even better than his reaction when the prank was in action. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though watering just barely from the previous aching in his heart, mouth agape slightly.

Then, his eyebrows furrowed deeper, displaying anger. The way his shoulders sank for a moment showed his relief, though they tensed up quickly, as he prepared himself to yell at you. “Idiot! Pervert! Who do you think you are, trying to play with my heart like that?! What right do you have to-”

You cut him off by cupping his face, pouting slightly- his face burned as he avoided eye contact, hand raised slightly as if contemplating pushing you away. It was clear he didn’t really want you to stop though.

“Sorry, sorry~. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you, Mitsuba. You’ve got very cute reactions, you know?”

“Hmph. You sound like you’re quoting porn-”

“Mention porn one more time and the prank won’t be a prank anymore-”

“Liar. Idiot. Stupid pervert, you’re a liar.”

You laughed lightly, squishing his face as you closed your eyes. “Maybe I’m a tad bit of a liar. But, when you pretend to not be upset, I’m sure you’re lying as well~.”

“Hah. I don’t lie.”

[bi-bard]

Milkshakes - Team Free Will Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Milkshakes

Pairing: Team Free Will X Platonic!Fem!Reader (as put in the request)

Requested: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 1,846 words

Warning(s): violence, death

Summary: [Early Season 11 (Before Episode 10)] Sam and Dean think that there's something that can be The Darkness. Castiel warns them but... who knows? Maybe God's ultimate weapon isn't as scary as it seems.

Author's Note: I used dodie for outfit inspiration because the outfit matched the vibe but change it if you want. I only used a female read because it's in the request and it helped with clarity because the whole imagine is in 3rd person (I do usually use they/them pronouns in my work). Finally, I thought the milkshake flavor sounded good, but you can change it in your mind if you want to.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

--Third Person P.O.V--

Sam was leaning over a lore book in the library. It was too early for him to be so focused on the book but he felt like he needed to. The Darkness being released was his fault, he needed to find a solution.

Dean walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and was clearly still half-asleep. He sat across from his brother.

"What're you reading," Dean grumbled out in between sips of coffee.

"I found this book about the most powerful beings," Sam explained. "Most of them are just rumored to exist but I thought it'd give us a jumping-off point on where to find something to help us defeat Amara."

"Anything interesting," Dean asked.

"A Nephilim; kid of an angel and a human," Sam said. "There's no mention that they could kill someone as powerful as God. Then there's..."

Sam trailed off and went back through the book, hunting for a particular page he had read nearly an hour ago. He pointed to the page once he found it.

"This doesn't even have a name but it describes a creature created by God to be a weapon," Sam explained. "I was doing some snooping on some message boards when I first found out about it. There's a lot of religious nuts and self-proclaimed hunters who think this thing is gonna be the end of the world. They say it's a prophecy that can't be stopped."

"And you think hunting it down is a good idea," Dean asked.

"Listen, I don't think it's fair to think this thing wants to end the world," Sam replied. "I think it's the best choice we have right now."

"Alright, fine, where do we look," Dean asked.

The boys didn't have to look far before Castiel popped into the library. He asked where they had gotten on their path to defeat Amara. His eyes went wide when they explained what they wanted to do.

"Are you two insane," Castiel asked.

"Listen-"

"No, I know more about this than either of you," the angel stopped Dean's argument. "This creature could kill you both with a look and end the world with a flick of the wrist and you want to track it down?!"

"Isn't it worth trying," Sam asked.

"'Trying,'" Castiel was so unbelievable done with the idiotic decisions of the Winchesters at that point.

"If we don't try something, then Amara kills all of us anyways," Dean said. "We need something Cas. This could be the thing."

Castiel sighed, letting his head fall forward for a moment before looking back up at the boys.

"Fine," Castiel threw his hands up. "Do you know how to find this thing?"

"Looks like a spell," Sam turned the book so Castiel could look at the page. "We should have everything. It's strange no one's tried-"

"Succeeded," Castiel corrected. "People have probably tried if the spell is so simple."

"Okay, good, let's get the supplies and give it a shot," Dean clapped his hands and stood up.

In a matter of minutes, the boys and their angel were back around the table and ready to start the spell.

Castiel and Dean jumped when Sam grabbed a knife and nicked his hand.

"One of us needs to be bonded," Sam explained. "Like a human compass. It feels right that it's me."

He didn't wait for the other two to respond before he started reading the spell of the book. Castiel and Dean exchanged a look for a moment.

As he finished the spell, a purple flame shot up from the bowl for a second. Sam felt his arm tingling from the wound up. He shook it out, trying to understand what it was telling him.

States over, a young girl, a college student visiting home, is sitting in a booth at a small diner.

In between page turns, she sits up straight. Her eyes flash the same purple as the flame from the spell before she snaps out of the trance.

She looks around. Everything feels different. It's like the air had shifted around her. She furrowed her eyebrows... what the hell was that?

--time skip--

Dean pulled the impala up to the curb of the street. The three of them look at the nice house. White picket fence, two stories, a garden.

"Are you sure about this," Dean asked Sam. "This seems like a pretty normal house."

Sam nodded, "I can feel it. It's here."

"Alright, let's go," Dean replied.

The three of them got out of the car and made their way up the pathway. None of them knew what fight they were going to get once they opened that door. It could've been a deadly fight. They may not have even had a chance to fight.

Still, with one last silent check with the others, Dean lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

The last thing they expected was for a girl to open the door with a wide smile. She had a white dress on with an orange cardigan over the top.

"Hello," she said happily. "What can I help you with?"

"Sam," Dean looked at his brother. Sam just nodded. He could feel it in his gut. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," the girl replied. "And you are?"

"I'm Sam," the taller man answered. "This is Dean and Cas."

"Nice to meet you," she held a hand out.

Sam awkwardly accepted, shaking her hand. They both froze, eyes flashing purple before they both stepped back from each other.

"That was weird," (Y/n) mumbled, frowning at her hand. "What was that?"

The boys looked at each other but before they could speak, there was a crash from inside the house. The girl jumped.

"Who's that," Dean asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "My parents are gone. No one else is supposed to be here."

Sam and Dean grabbed their guns before all of them walked inside.

Before they could get any answers for themselves, an angel rounded the corner and tried to grab (Y/n), who ran behind the others as soon as she saw the angel.

She stumbled backward toward the wall in shock and fear. She covered her mouth as the more angels walked into her living, not that she knew that's who they were.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were getting thrown around.

"Stop," Sam yelled as they walked toward (Y/n).

"We need something to defeat the Darkness," one of the angels said. "This is our option. Thank you for leading us to her."

(Y/n) was shaking more as she listened. The Darkness? Why was she so important to them? To the boys or the others who had broken into her house?

"Come on, (Y/n)," one of the angels had a hand out to her. She shook her head and the angel chuckled. "Fine. Make this harder."

The others came running at her.

"No," she yelled, dropping to the ground, and covering herself with her arms.

A pulse of energy shot out. The angels that had broken in had burned in front of her.

Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other.

(Y/n) slowly looked up from where she was.

"Hey," Sam walked over, kneeling next to her. "You alright?"

"What was that," she asked, shaking. "Who are you? Who were they? What did I do?"

"Hey, hey," Sam touched the girl's shoulders. "It's alright. Hey... how about we go somewhere to calm down? How about some food, yeah? Is there a restaurant nearby or something?"

She nodded. Sam helped her stand up fully and led her to the impala. Dean and Cas sat in the front while Sam and (Y/n) took the backseat.

(Y/n) rambled about a small diner nearby, giving Dean quick directions before falling silent again.

The four of them took a booth in the farthest back corner. (Y/n) sat leaning against the wall, Sam next to her and Cas and Dean across from her.

"Umm... do you know what you want," Sam asked quietly, making (Y/n) aware of the waitress there.

She was an old friend, "You alright, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded. "I'm just a little tired. Umm... can I get a cherry vanilla milkshake?"

"That it for you, dear," the waitress checked. (Y/n) nodded with a grin, playing with the end of her cardigan's sleeves.

The waitress took the other three's orders before walking away.

"Who were those people," (Y/n) asked. "Why did they break into my house?"

"Because God made you a weapon," Cas said bluntly, making (Y/n)'s eyes go wide.

"A weapon?"

"He means," Dean jumped in, "you have powers that you don't know about. That's why you were able to get rid of those angels."

"Those were angels," she tried to keep her voice down. They all nodded. "I thought angels were supposed to be good?"

"They are supposed to follow orders," Cas corrected. "Not all of them are good."

She nodded, "Are you guys angels?"

"No, well, Sam and I aren't," Dean pointed between him and his brother. "Cas is."

"Oh," she muttered. "You're not-"

"I'm not gonna force you to go to heaven to defeat the Darkness," Cas promised.

"The Darkness," she said. "What's that? Why do I need to fight it?"

"The Darkness is... kind of our fault," Sam explained. "She's trying to create a new world in her image, which includes destroying this one."

"So, how'd you find me," she asked.

Before they could answer, the waitress came back, dropping off their food and drinks. (Y/n) leaned forward and took a sip of her milkshake and grinned to herself for a moment.

The boys were so confused. This was God's weapon?

"Well, Dean and I are hunters," Sam continued once (Y/n) back over to him. "We hunt monsters. Our grandpa was part of this group, the Men of Letters. They have a book in their collection that talks about you. There was a spell that led us to you."

She nodded but furrowed her eyebrows. Monsters? God? Hunters? After what had happened today, she struggled to deny all of it but was still hesitant to believe them?

"Well, if the Darkness knows I can defeat... her... won't she be looking for me too," (Y/n) asked.

"We can keep you safe," Dean promised.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as possible," he nodded.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, "Okay. I'll go with you. I just... I need to get some stuff from my house and tell my parents that I'll be gone."

"You can't tell them where you're going or why," Dean said. "It'll put them in danger."

She bit her lip, "If it saves them in the long run, fine."

(Y/n) asked a lot more questions that day as they ate in the diner. They told her about monsters and the big bads they had faced. Monsters' weaknesses and abilities. Their other hunting buddies. People she could trust.

Sam, Dean, and Cas trusted her immediately. They felt like they needed to. Like she was a person to rely on.

And there- over a cherry vanilla milkshake- (Y/n) watched her entire life change forever.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[charcubed]

Let's talk about Supernatural 15x07, "Last Call."

Or as I like to call it, "the episode that makes me go feral because it tells us so much about Dean's sexuality, character, and arc." 

YES others have written meta! YES I will talk about it myself for the satisfaction! I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

This post was originally a thread on Twitter and I am crossposting it to my blog.

Alt image IDs are included in that linked Twitter thread!

Join me on this journey.

What's the context of this episode? Dean's been kind of down/depressed, feeling hopeless in the face of the idea that they have to defeat God (and not really working towards that goal much), and he's mid-divorce with Cas. He goes out on this solo case to try to clear his head.

And he ends up at Swayze's Bar. 

 Look, there are many things to be said about this. Dean loves Patrick Swayze. Arguably has a CRUSH on Swayze. It's very tied up in Dean pretending not to like "chick flicks" but he secretly does, which is queer coding. This was a Choice™️.

Speaking of Choices™️: professional actors made many here. Deliberately. 

 Dean is smacked on the ass by a woman and then Lee smacks him on the ass too. Dean and Lee CONSTANTLY have physical familiarity and fond eye contact. I will limit myself to 1 paragraph about this lest I list it all.

My point is that I just really need every person to digest and accept the fact that this is textually bi Dean. Not subtext; it's TEXT. 

Dean and Lee had a relationship. Their history is alluded to in touch and in words. They had an orgy together. Dean's bisexuality is not repressed.

It's also now canon that Dean tries to hide that he can sing well. Most people don't know (like Sam) but some do (Lee). Hence "Eye of the Tiger" callback.

And so: that's also the implication for his sexuality. Dean singing ON STAGE with bi lighting is him being ready to be Out.

They dedicated an entire half an ep at minimum to emphasizing he's bi... and to Dean having a conversation with someone he (initially) trusts about potentially having a break from hunting, and what that could mean.

LEE: You're chasing missing persons, huh? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.

DEAN: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

LEE: Damn, brother, that's dark.

DEAN: Yeah, it's been a rough, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee.

LEE: Yeah.

DEAN: But that's a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.

LEE: Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.

DEAN: Oh, come on. Who's gonna kill the bad guys?

LEE: Somebody else. Dean, how many lives you think you saved, huh? Hundreds? Thousands? You deserve a break, bro. Hell, you might even deserve two.

"But Lee turns out to be a villain!" some might say. "Isn't the point that giving up hunting is bad?" 

Nope. 

Lee's a DARK MIRROR for Dean. He exists to exhibit the truths behind Dean's desires, and then what they'd look like if they turned bad. Take it from him: "I am you."

There are LAYERS here. You can't focus on the dark side and ignore the truths that take place in the (often bi) light. 

The singing? The conversations about taking a break? Throwing men out of the bar, which is framed heroically? "Road House rules" (another Choice™️)?

NONE of that was bad. It shows what Dean wants. 

Things only get bad–literally and visually–when Dean's tied up as Lee suddenly says wrong things in the dark. 

The contrast exists to show that maintaining Goodness is a choice, and Dean would have no problem upholding that.

LEE: It's called a marid. It's a freaky-looking little thing, isn't it? [Lee laughs, and Dean stares at him, incredulous] Ah. As long as you feed it, it gives you money, it gives you health, everything you dreamed of.

DEAN: And so, what, it just costs innocent lives?

LEE: Dean, you and I both know no one's innocent. After everything we've done, aren't... aren't we owed a little happiness, huh? Don't we deserve that much?

DEAN: Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

LEE: Good or bad... the world doesn't care. No one cares, Dean.

DEAN: Well, I do.

LEE: Yeah. And that's what got you here. Now, takes a while to drain a man, but listen to me. Don't worry about it, all right? Don't worry because once you lose a couple of pints, you just fall asleep, and then it'll be over.

[Lee pats Dean on the shoulder]

DEAN: Lee.

LEE: This... this is not how I wanted this to go, Dean. When that blonde girl walked in here last night, I should've know, you know, Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs, you were gonna keep digging, and you were gonna figure me out. And if it's got to be you or me, well, I got to pick me, man.

"No one cares, Dean."

"Well, I do."

It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Lee. It's a re-centering of purpose that he sorely needs.

And what's also key? Lee is human, but is now a "monster" in Dean's words. Because Lee lost his ability to care, Dean can't abide by that.

(Side note: bonus for the fact that Lee dies up against a wall by being impaled and he coughs up blood. You know who doesn’t cough up blood in their very weird and unrealistic death scene? Dean in the finale.)

Remember: Lee is a dark mirror for Dean. "I am you." 

By fighting and (tragically) killing Lee, Dean "kills" the darker side of himself. The side that's struggling to keep going right now... AND the side that fears eventually wanting a break means you must be selfish and stop caring.

He can keep going. He can find strength to fight God–and in the end, take a break and CHOOSE peace. It won't make him dark. He's the most caring man on Earth, even when it's hard. That’s reinforced later. 

Isn't he owed a little happiness? And that's not in the having. It's in just being.

The bonus is what's going on with Cas in this episode. 

Dean's clearing his head and finding his center again while Cas is calling him. 

Come home. I need you. Remember what matters.

And again, contrast: Lee turns out not to be "real/true" in the way Dean thought he was. But Cas IS.

And after Dean goes through all of this... he's grounded again, he recognizes that even amongst questions of what God controls there are still choices to be made, he's reminded that letting his caring heart lead him is priority, he's lost another friend... 

He comes home to Cas.

It's awkward. They're still distanced. 

But this episode is a turning point for Dean. He's not angry at Cas anymore, he wants to talk, he's ready to move forward... he just doesn't know how to yet.

And if you follow the through-line... then you get Rowena saying "fix it"... and then after that is the Purgatory prayer.

I just !!! 

S15 is packed with Dean development to hone in towards the end of his arc, but "Last Call" manages to hit SO many buttons. 

• He's always been bi, & is ready to be Out

• He can want a break–& maybe run a bar like the Roadhouse

• Caring is at the core of who he is

It's about the CHOICE. It's about wanting to live your truths, and that "caring" can mean many things–from defeating God and saving the world, to making the hard choices when it counts, to maybe running a bar where people are safe.

14x10 and its matching Texan Star also say hello:

DEAN: How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA: How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN: Whoa.

PAMELA: Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN: All right.

PAMELA: So, still not ready to sell the bar, huh? It's a lot of money.

DEAN: Sell? This bar? This is my dream.

PAMELA; Yeah.

And I recognize that rereading this info is sad(der) now because of what we got in the end, so uh... sorry. 

But that's half the point: it's repeatedly blatantly clear what we were meant to get, down to deliberate echoes in word choice–caring, happiness, deserve, even Roadhouse.

Dean was meant to choose to take a break, maybe run a bar–whether on Earth or in Heaven. At minimum, if Dean was meant to end up in Heaven, he was meant to choose it with eyes wide open. And the next time the phone rang with Cas' name (15x19), he RAN for him. He was VERY ready.

And the whole season tells you that. This episode is just my favorite.

So... thanks for letting me ramble on about it!!! 

DEAN WINCHESTER: BI ICON, ONCE-LOVER OF LEE WEBB, THE MOST CARING MAN ON EARTH WHO DESERVED TO CHOOSE PEACE AFTER GAINING HIS FREEDOM, & SOULMATE TO AN ANGEL

And a very big thank you to the talented kings Jensen Ackles & Christian Kane, and their longstanding friendship. They gave me many rights with their acting choices. 

Here's an iconic bonus for the road.

[idreamofplaid]

Dean Lives Forever

Square Filled: Impala for @spndeanbingo

Characters: Jensen/Dean x Reader; Jared and Kripke mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Jensen is having a hard time with Supernatural being over. The reader has an idea to help him deal with his feelings.

Word Count: 2409

A/N: This is for you @lovealways-j. Thanks for your friendship and all the thirsty exchanges.

“Will you play something for me?” You hopefully held Jensen’s guitar out to him. He’d been home for three days now since filming on The Boys had finished, and in that time he’d eaten only egg sandwiches and barely said anything. Eventually, he’d open up and talk about it. Right now he was processing. That’s what Jensen did.

You’d known it wouldn’t be easy for him, being a different character after Dean Winchester had lived in his skin for fifteen years. It was almost a doppelganger type situation it had gone on so long. Dean was like a separate entity that came to life through Jensen every time Jensen flipped that switch, and flipping that switch had become increasingly easy over the years until the lines between Jensen and Dean were blurred.

Jensen took the guitar from you and turned on the barstool to face out from the kitchen toward the breakfast nook and give himself more room to play. He placed the instrument on his leg and started to pluck at the strings. Soon the familiar chords of “Simple Man” filled the air. 

He started to sing the words to the song he loved so much in his smooth soulful voice and had almost made it through the first verse when he stopped. His fingers strummed at the strings of the guitar for a few more seconds before they stopped moving too.

It was a Dean song. Jensen had always said it would become real to him that Supernatural was over when he walked onto another set and had to be somebody else. For the past several months, that’s what he’d done; and he had to do it alone. The travel restrictions were still in place while he was filming. That meant you couldn’t be there; Jared couldn’t be there. Jensen was alone in his head, and he was inclined to think too much sometimes.

The separation hadn’t been easy on you either. You’d lost sleep more than one night after a Facetime call when you knew things weren’t quite right, and Jensen was doing his best to put on a good face for you. He was a good actor, but he wasn’t good enough to hide what he was really feeling from you.

The irony was you had been able to see Jared, and the two of you had met for lunch regularly when he had a day off from Walker. Jared and Jensen were a package deal. You’d known that from the beginning and were more than happy to get a best friend/brother included in the greatest boyfriend ever set. Your conversations had centered largely around Jensen and the ending of Supernatural.

Jared was worried about him too because he knew how hard it was to let Sam go, and the truth was he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Jared provided a lot of insight into the things Jensen might be feeling that he wasn’t telling you about. 

Jared’s words echoed in your mind now as you watched Jensen set his guitar down on the terrazzo tile. He’s got to figure out how to make Dean part of him and any other character he plays, because Dean’s not going anywhere. 

You walked closer to stand between Jensen’s open legs and run your hands through his once again short hair.  Your fingertips massaged his scalp, and he leaned into your touch. “You miss him, don’t you?” you asked quietly.

Jensen opened his jade green eyes, and you could see the melancholy in them, the touch of heartache. He tried to laugh, but it was more of a heavy exhale through his nose and a sad smile. “I know it’s stupid. It’s been a year.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s not stupid at all.” Then you took Jensen’s hand in yours, an idea forming in your head and putting a gleam in your eye. “Go get dressed. And when I say dressed I mean put on some plaid. None of this one layer business either. That’s not the Winchester Way.”

“What are you up to, Y/N?” Jensen narrowed his eyes, making the crinkles at their corners more prominent.

“We’re taking your Baby for a ride, so get your sexy ass off this barstool and go get ready.”  You gave his butt a good smack. That would either get him moving or get his dick twitching; both would be ideal.

Fifteen minutes later, Jensen was backing Baby out of her special garage with you in the passenger seat. Driving her was like swimming; you didn’t forget how no matter how long it’d been since you last saw water. Watching the way he handled his beloved Impala was a huge turn on. It had been when you’d watched “Dean” do it on your television screen, and it was even more so now.

As he steered her down the long driveway, Jensen asked, “Where do you want to go?”

You were distracted by the sight of his forearms, with their prominent veins, peeking out from the rolled up cuffs of the red and black flannel he was wearing; and didn’t respond immediately. He looked over at you, saw you checking him out, and smiled. “Why don’t you come closer? You’re too far away.”

Jensen had changed practically nothing on the car. Installing an air conditioner was a must, but he’d wanted her to stay as much the same as she had been as she could possibly be. That included no seat belts, so you could slide across the bench seat until you were next to him. Jensen put his hand on your thigh. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, tell me where to take you.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. Just find a pretty backroad, and let’s drive.”

When he’d driven far enough out of Austin that the road was mostly deserted, you started to kiss Jensen’s neck and nibble at his ear. “How many girls do you think Dean had in this car?” you asked while you blew into his ear. 

“Do you mean had or had?” Jensen moved his hand around to the inside of your thigh and eased it higher up your leg, bringing it closer to your core.

“I think you know what I mean.” You wriggled down in the seat until your pussy made contact with his hand.

Jensen rubbed his thick fingers along the seam of your jeans, making you squirm. “Oh, I imagine he had quite a few.”

“Is this what he did with them? What you’re doing to me right now?” You rubbed yourself against his hand and moaned.

“Among other things.” Jensen’s voice had dropped down into the Dean register. “Why don’t you, uh, open those jeans you’re wearin’, and I’ll show you.” 

He glanced at you, his hand still teasing you through the denim. His expression had changed. You were looking into the eyes of Dean Winchester. He could still fall back into character in an instant.

You opened them up, granting him access to the cotton and lace trimmed panties you were wearing underneath. Dean slipped his hand under the waistband and curled his finger right up against your clit. He started making circles over the already aching nub and applied enough pressure to make you feel like you could come apart at any second.

“You are so wet, sweetheart.” He was watching the road, but his focus was on you. “I bet you’re tight too.” He said it like he didn’t know.

The idea that he was completely in character now, and it was Dean touching you made you come all over his hand. You couldn’t grab him like you wanted to, so you clawed at the seat beside you instead while your orgasm flowed through you in waves that made you weak. 

When your body stopped shaking, Dean pulled his hand from your pants and made a show of cleaning your juices off his fingers. God. His lips. You wanted to feel them on you. He was so close you could smell him, but you needed to be closer. You buried your face in his neck and breathed him in. “Find somewhere to pull over,” you told him. “Somewhere off the road where nobody can see.”

Dean/Jensen knew these Texas backroads, and within a short time he’d found a secluded place to park Baby. “Let’s get in the back,” you said, laying your hand over the swelling bulge between his legs. 

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart.” He kissed you once. His mouth claiming yours, and his need for you evident in the way his tongue tangled with yours. Then Dean opened the door. You smiled when you heard it make the familiar groaning squeak. He got out and gave you his hand to help you out of the car. 

As soon as you were both in the back seat and the door had closed solidly behind him, you reached for his belt. You couldn’t get him out of his clothes fast enough, and he’d worn all the layers just like you’d asked him to. With your clothes piled on the floorboard, you explored each other’s bodies with your hands and your mouths. 

Dean made his mark on you, leaving hot kisses on your stomach, your breasts, and the insides of your thighs. His touch was a little different than the one you were used to, a little heavier with an almost desperation to feel alive through the act of joining your body with someone else’s. 

You knew people said that Jensen should win awards for his acting, and you could verify that they were right because the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, it was tender, caring, and passionate. But the love wasn’t there. This man appreciated you, wanted you, worshipped your body, but he didn’t love you. It was Jensen who loved you.

The way he moved inside you was different too. His thrusts were deep and sharp, then he would slow down and roll his hips until you were begging for him to give you more. When he came inside you, the sound of your name on his lips was a more primal thing. It was basic and raw. This was sex for the sake of the pure physical pleasure, and it felt amazingly good. You clenched him tightly, determined to milk every drop of the pain out of him. 

Immediately after the finish of your mind numbing orgasm, he rolled off of you. “Thank you, baby.” Jensen.

You turned toward him and propped yourself over him, so you could look down into his face. What you saw confirmed what you’d heard in the change of his voice. It was the man you loved. You kissed him, and it was the kiss you knew. It was filled with a soft intensity that made you feel loved, wanted, chosen, and trusted.

You were overwhelmed by how much this man meant to you. Dean Winchester was as sexy as any man had ever been, but it was Jensen you were going to marry one day, Jensen who held your heart. It was Jensen who always thought of you in so many little ways like a true gentleman would.

As if to prove it, he asked, “Are you cold?” He rubbed his hand down your back to check and apparently decided you were, because he sat up and retrieved his flannel from the floorboard. “Here. Put this on,” he told you as he helped you into it and buttoned up some of the buttons in the middle, enough to keep the shirt closed. 

You settled back beside him, his arms wrapped securely around you. His body was warmer than any flannel. You placed soft kisses on his chest, then lay your head down on it. “It’s okay to miss him,” you whispered while you traced mindless patterns over Jensen’s heart with your fingertip. “It’s okay to be him again sometimes too if that’s what you need. He’s part of you, Jensen. Always will be.”

“It’s been so damn hard these past few months.” You kissed his chest again to encourage him to go on. “I hear ‘action’ and to me that means be Dean, but I couldn’t. I had to fight it. I couldn’t walk like him, or sound like him, or make any of the gestures he would have made. And, yeah, I missed him.”

“I missed being on set with Jared too, having him to play off of. We made each other better. We had a rhythm when we were doing a scene that was just natural. So natural, it almost wasn’t acting.” You could feel his arms tighten around you the slightest bit. ”I felt like I forgot how to act.” 

You kissed him again, letting your lips linger on his skin before you pulled them away. “I wish I could have been there for you. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

He tried to laugh again, just like he had earlier in the kitchen. It was a little closer to a real laugh. “I couldn’t be Dean Winchester forever, could I?”

You raised your head up to look at him. “That’s not even a question, Jensen.” You smiled when you said it. “You will be Dean forever. You can’t get him out of you. Stop trying to fight it. You’ve proved you can play another character. Eric can’t stop raving about how good you are, and I’m sure when the season is released everyone else is going to see that too.”

He reached up and took your face in his hand. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch to have you.” Your smile got bigger.

“See. That was Dean right there.” Realization crossed Jensen’s face. He shook his head and smiled, really smiled.

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t mind if I bring Dean out to play every once in awhile?” The smile was still on his face, and it was beautiful. 

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.” You kissed him then with a light flirtiness for the first time that day. “In fact I think it would be a good idea for us to do that. We better keep you in practice because everybody knows Supernatural is coming back, and we don’t want Dean to come across like Soldier Boy,” you said playfully.

Jensen flipped you beneath him. “Soldier Boy? I’ll show you Soldier Boy.”

And that’s a story for another time...

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @peridottea91​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @emilyshurley​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @jules-1999​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @volleyballer519​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @deansotherotherblog​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @spnbaby-67​ @wayward-and-worn​ @asthesunwentdown​ @vulgar-library​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @petitgateau911​ @calaofnoldor​

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ @weepingwillowphoenix​

[thefanficmonster]

The Real Ending

John & Angela & Andrew & Daniel & Taylor; Daniel x Taylor, Angela x John [The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope]

Warnings: MINOR SPOILERS for the game Little Hope, Mentions of Trauma, Swearing

Genre: Alternate Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Fluff

Summary: How it all should’ve ended

Requested by @mynameis-james  Hii! Once again, sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy the fic! Love, Vy ❤

None of the five could believe it was really over. Even the newly rising sun, nor the sight of the diner before them could convince them otherwise. However, now that they’re sitting in the back of police cruisers, getting escorted back to the city, they are relieved to finally come to terms with the fact that it is indeed over. They are fully aware that this night is not something they can simply check at the door and bury at the back of their minds, leaving them unhindered by the scars it left on them. No, they know it’ll take time, time which will inevitably take a huge toll on them in one way or another.

But, for the time being, they’ve found some kind of comfort, temporary or otherwise, and have busied themselves with processing everything before they can battle it out of their minds.

Daniel and Taylor are sat in one of the cruisers, both of them exhausted to the point they can’t find it in themselves to speak. The intertwining of their hands speaks for itself though. They, along with the cops, travel the way in silence. Daniel’s gaze is fixed on the images of nature flying by outside the window while Taylor’s leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes fluttered shut as she catches onto some much needed energy boost via sleep.

John is in a different cruiser with the bus driver. The two are more talkative due to still being under the influence of adrenaline - especially the driver who had wandered off, uncertain of where to look for help. Unlike the group, however, he never ran into the demonic creatures and John can’t help but inwardly scoff at how lucky the man had been. Of course, he’s not trying to say that the driver should’ve undergone the torture too, but he’s rightfully sour about having to go through it himself. He’s put his job on the line because of this, he’s probably gonna lose his position at the college and never get over it. He put the students’ lives in danger. Andrew, Daniel, Taylor....Angela. 

Speaking of Angela: although she has fought blood and fire to keep her composure and the act of the cold-hearted thick-skinned intellectual she likes to represent herself as, she can’t help but feel like the façade is slowly cracking. All she wants to do right now is stick by John’s side and do whatever it takes for him to keep his job. She cannot imagine going to class and not seeing him there, her heart aches at the very idea. And to think she’s been taking him for granted all this time.

Andrew, who’s seated next to her, has to me the numbest of them all. His head has emptied itself of anything but the immense wish to be home with his family right now. Of course, first he’ll have to make a trip to the hospital just like his peers, but then he’d want nothing more than to hop on a train back home for a week or two. Yes, train - you won’t be seeing him on a bus anytime soon.

The cars come to a stop by the gates of the hospital grounds one by one. The cool morning breeze tickles their skin as they step out of the vehicles, relieved to be in a familiar with other people within close enough proximity to feel safe and secure. Not many people can say that after finding themselves at a hospital, but after a night like theirs, the five are more than grateful to be stepping foot there.

They all, with just a silent exchange of looks between them, had decided not to mention anything about the supernatural phenomena they fought against, not looking forward to having to explain it to the cops who would’ve undoubtedly found it humorous at best and outright ridiculous at worst.

What really matters is that they’re here now, alive, and able to get the medical help they’ve been needing since the crash itself. 

*  *  *  *  * 

An hour has passed and everyone has gotten treated, prescribed medicine and has been allowed to leave. Well, everyone except Andrew, who’s taken in for a few night hospital stay so his state can be easily monitored due to the concussion and other injuries he’s endured.

Hearing this has the four heading straight for his room where he greets them with a tired smile.

“Mind some company?“ Daniel asks jokingly, entering second, right behind a very guilty-looking John.

“I was just watching a horse race so what do you think?“ Andrew, concussion be damned, is still himself of course. No head trauma can knock the sarcasm out of this kid and that’s comforting to a certain degree.

“Well then I guess we’ll leave you to it.“ Taylor says with a playful eye-roll, pretending to turn and walk out of the room.

“Jokes aside, how are you feeling? What did the doctor say?“ John, clearly the most perturbed of them all, refuses to give into the small amount of humor that can be found in this situation. The guilt is eating him alive.

“I’m ok, really. He said I’d stick around for a day or two but then I’m free to go so I take it I’ll be keeping a good head on my shoulders after all.“ Andrew smiles at his concerned professor, feeling sympathetic to his situation. This man’s job is hanging by a thread, he’s gonna be dealing with intense pain due to his injuries for the next week or two and he’s also wracked by guilt. Oh yeah, and then there’s also the question with Angela.

But, it’s not the student’s place to comment on that last one.

“You had a good head on your shoulders to begin with?“ Taylor, being his sarcasm twin, obviously couldn’t not quip in, much to everyone’s amusement.

“So I take it you don’t know what that’s like.“ Andrew’s response elicits a dramatic gasp from the redhead who mocks offense as she turns away.

“I believe if he’s able to roast people, he’s just fine, professor.“ Daniel gives John a firm reassuring nod that apparently is enough to convince the man to relax even a little bit.

“I think you might be right, Daniel. John really shouldn’t fuss over Andrew so much when he’s got some other matters at hand.“ Angela’s clearly not had the mean bluntness knocked out of her either but the man doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike Taylor who’s about to fire back but Daniel prevents her from executing the plan.

“Yeah, you’re right, I have a job to save. I’ll see you....“, he almost says his classic Friday closing quip ‘I’ll see you on Monday‘ but then a pit opens up in his stomach, reminding him he might not see them on Monday, or on Tuesday or any day after that. Not at school at the very least.

That only fuels his determination to save his teaching position more.

“I better get going.“ He mumbles, his words reciprocated by Andrew with a wave and by Daniel and Taylor with simple ‘see ya‘s. Angela, on the other hand, perks up and surprises them all with what she says.

“I’ll come with you.“ 

To say the three students are flabbergasted would be an understatement. 

The professor fights to keep his composure though, “No, there’s no need. You should go home and rest.”

“There’s no way I’ll be able to do that if I don’t know what’ll happen with you. I’m coming whether you like it or not.“ She responds sharply but her words radiate warmth and admiration for the man before her. She does admire him, just doesn’t know how to show it and this is the closest she’ll ever get to it. She cannot imagine turning up on Monday to have some cheap replacement in his spot.

“Alright then...let’s get going.“ John barely manages to find his voice after a brief moment of silence and contemplation before he decides that, as a grown woman, she’s right to make her own decisions and be responsible for possible casualties that could occur afterwards. “Take care, you three.“

When the students are sure John and Angela have walked out of earshot, they immediately exchange a look.

“Did that really just happen?“ Andrew asks

“What even was that?“ Taylor replies, equally as baffled as her friend.

“She’s got human emotions, after all. Shocker, huh?“ Daniel adds.

All three of them return to the comfort of the silence, only interrupted by the sounds coming from the TV.

“You wanna bet on these horses?“ Andrew asks out of the blue.

“Yeah.“ 

“Why not.“

@artlovingbre  @megandaisy9  @hopeveon  @lavadoge  @nyctophiliiiiaaa  @squirreljoe  @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[where-theres-smoak-2]

If Aleks was supposed to be this super evil big bad why didn’t he make Alina pretty much his prisoner from the get go? He could have readily lied and isolated her until finding the stag without attempting to seduce her or whatever and once the stag was in his hands he could have just forced her to wear it or better yet find a way to transfer all her power to him leaving her to die without her powers to keep her healthy. That’s what a true villain would have done instead of the parody of one we got,IMO.

(Trigger warning: mentions of abuse)

You're right that would make him more of a villain. But LB had that whole cautionary tale she was trying to tell of beware the hot charismatic men they be evil. Don't fall for the hot older guy they be evil. I also think she wanted that whole plot twist of the darkling actually being the bad guy so needed him to be a decent guy in the first half of the book so that it would be oh so shocking when it reveals that Alina was manipulated by him. There are couple of problems with this though. The first is that it is poorly written I mean I wouldn't call a couple of conversations and two kisses a master manipulation personally but hey that's just me. The second is that the cautionary tale very much like the secondary 'power corrupts' one that exists in the trilogy is outdated and overdone. Everyone knows that sometimes older powerful men manipulate women, particularly younger women, for their own ends. Like I don't feel like anyone needs to be told that manipulators are charismatic and charming, obviously they are, if they were antisocial and mean they would have a real hard time manipulating anyone. Also like how power doesn't always corrupt not every good looking powerful man is going to abuse and manipulate you. Then there is also the fact that if she really wanted to stick with the 'powerful men' cautionary tale then there were other characters in the book that were actually better suited to it then the darkling, like the king or prince vasily. This is just my opinion and I am sure there will be those who disagree with me but I think the problem with using the darkling as this character is that he is very much a fantasy character and the abuse he inflicts on Alina is often fantasy in nature such as a magic collar, or using shadow monsters and a magic shadow fold to threaten the ones she loves. The problem with that is when I think fantasy it takes me further from reality then say a character who is human and inflicts abuse that can and often does happen in reality. Not sure if I am explaining myself properly here but I guess what I mean is that a man is never going to force a magical collar around a woman's neck in real life but a man could beat or force himself on a woman in real life which is why I think the very human non-fantasy/supernatural character of the king or prince would have served better as the villain of that cautionary tale.

I also find it kind of funny when you have antis who in some kind of faux concern for the young readers talk about what if these young girls think this kind of relationship is ok and how they used to find so and so villain hot and sexy when they were a teenager and wish they could meet a guy like that but then they grew out of it and realised that a relationship like that is wrong. Which, exactly, you grew out of it. What on earth makes them think these other young girls won't grow out of it? As a teen we often are drawn to things that as an adult we no longer find attractive, its part of growing up. Also I feel like by the time you are at an age where you are seeking those kinds of relationships you are also at an age where you understand the difference between reality and fiction. Fiction is a way to safely explore forbidden desires or explore darker parts of human nature. Just because someone finds the darkling interesting or attractive does not mean that is something they condone or seek in real life. Your fictional preferences don't reflect your real life morals and I don't understand why there is this sudden morality policing going on in fiction/ fandom where if a character is even slightly problematic then anyone who likes that character is automatically the spawn of satan.

Anyway went on a slight tangent then. But I personally just don't think the cautionary tale was a necessary one and it was not one that I found interesting at all, especially when the backdrop for the tale has an even more important story to tell about the prosecution of minorities. I am much more interested in that story than one where they are warning me about something that I am already painfully aware of. I also, as I mentioned before, don't like the way the story was dealt with. I feel like Alina was very much shamed by the narrative for falling for the darkling and she's painted as being this stupid girl who fell for his manipulations and should have known better. I also feel like some people in the fandom treat darkling fans the same way, like they are just dumb hormonal girls which you know is really sexist and misogynistic. Also sometimes it doesn't matter how forewarned you are about attractive charismatic men you can still fall for them. That doesn't make it your fault or make you weak. You can come out of one abusive relationship and then end up falling into another and again its not your fault. I personally think we need to stop telling women that they should know better, its not as black and white as that. If a man manipulates and abuses a woman then the blame falls entirely on that man, not on his victim.

I understand that the story was personal to LB as she said in an interview that she wrote the trilogy when she had just come out of an abusive relationship and I have alot of sympathy for her, no one should have to go through that. And look I am no psychologist or expert but I do think you can see echoes of this throughout her work. I mean none of the relationships are healthy, they all have problematic elements in them and alot of them include the males trying to control their female partners in some way. Also there's the habit of quite a few of the female characters being made victims of men, Alina, Genya, Nina, you could even argue Baghra. They all are punished or used by men in various ways.

So I am not sure I really answered your question and instead kind of went on a bit of a rant but in my opinion the reason why the darkling wasn't written as a villain from the start who just took Alina captive and forced the collar on her without messing around with seducing her (if you could really call what happened in the books a seduction) is because it didn't fit what LB wanted for her narrative. She wanted this character who was a charming, charismatic manipulator to serve as a cautionary tale of how older men misuse their power to deceive younger women.

[wilbur-rabbit]

We are Soulmates - Sam, Dean and Cas' POV

Criminal Minds / Supernatural Crossover

Summary: When you get arrested by the FBI Sam, Dean and Cas do everything they can to get you back.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Aaron isn't in this chapter)

Word Count: 2294

Chapter 1

Warnings: cursing

A/N: This is a short story based on 'We are Soulmates' that goes through what happened in the first chapter from Sam, Dean and Cas' point of view. I recommend reading chapter one first. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Sam and Dean had stayed behind when Y/N had decided to follow Krissy and her friends to kill the vampire. Neither of them was particularly fond of the idea of you going off on your own but you insisted that you had it. Even after all these years they still felt protective over you.

Several hours later, Sam and Dean had gotten nowhere with the foster dad. They felt in their guts that something was off about him, but they didn’t know what. Both ready to call it a night, Dean got out his cell phone prepared to call Y/N to see how things were going with Krissy, when suddenly Krissy and her friends’, Josephine and Aiden, barge through the front door. The three of them talking at once, making it impossible to decipher what they were saying.

“Okay!” Dean yelled out. “One at a time, Krissy what is going on?”

Krissy took two heavy breaths before launching into the events that occurred after they found the vampire. How Y/N had found them in the barn right after Krissy had killed the vamp that had murdered her father, to them hearing several cars pulling up and Y/N telling them to go and get the Winchester’s. When Sam and Dean heard that Krissy had seen agents with FBI vests on when they had run out of the barn, dread settled into their chests.

Right after Krissy finished her story and Sam and Dean had gotten all that they could out of them, they left heading back to their motel room to try and come up with a plan.

The impala was quiet, both brothers thinking of ways to fix the mess they have found themselves in. Dean was the first to break the silence.

“How did this even happen?” he asked his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s our job to protect her. We shouldn’t have let her go off on her own.”

Sam glanced over at his brother. As soon as they had heard what happened to Y/N, he knew Dean would blame himself. It didn’t matter how many times you had gone off on your own on a hunt and been fine. They couldn’t have known this one would be different.

“She’s going to be okay,” Sam reassured. “She’s been in worse situations before. She can handle this.”

Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, “She’s never been arrested by the fucking FBI! They found her standing over a decapitated corpse. They aren’t going to just let her go.”

They had just pulled into the parking lot of their motel and Sam waited until they parked before he responded, wanting to give Dean a moment to calm down.

“I understand that she hasn’t dealt with this before,” Sam said in the reassuring voice he always used with people when he wanted them to stay calm. Dean looked over and glared at him picking up on his tone, which caused Sam to sigh. “Okay, look, I know this is a fucked-up situation Dean, but we will get her out of it,” Sam said. “We need to call Cas and let him know what he is going on. We could use his help. Then I think we should head back to the bunker.”

“You want to leave her here?” Dean said incredulously.

Sam rolled his eyes, “I have an idea that might work, but we are going to need Cas and ingredients that we have in the bunker to do it.”

Dean sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. I’ll call Cas. You grab our stuff so we can check out and leave.”

As Sam was packing up the car Dean stood a few paces away waiting for Cas to pick up the phone. They hadn’t talked in a while and Dean felt bad that he was only contacting him because something was wrong. Communication was something he need to work on.

“Hello, Dean,” came Cas’ deep voice through the phone.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean replied. “How have you been?” Dean didn’t want to automatically start off with the bad news, plus he genuinely wanted to know how Cas was doing.

“I’ve been good. I just finished a hunt in Nebraska,” Cas said. “Vengeful spirit. I’m heading back to the bunker now. How are you, Dean?”

Dean wanted to ask how the hunt had gone and why Cas didn’t just come along with them if he planned on hunting, but he stopped himself. Their current predicament was more important.

“I’ve been better,” Dean said with a sigh. “Actually, that is why I called. Y/N was arrested by the FBI.” His hand that wasn’t holding the phone rested on his hip as he looked to the ground. “Sam has an idea on how to get her out, but he says we need to go back to the bunker and that we will need your help.”

Cas is silent for a moment surprised at the turn of events. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help,” he said.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean replied happy to have Cas’ help, even though he had known Cas would be on board as soon as he knew Y/N was in trouble. “We are currently in Bloomington, Indiana, but we are getting ready to head that way.”

“Okay, good. I will see you at the bunker,” Cas said.

“Sounds good. We will call if we get an update,” Dean responded. “Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

As they started their drive back to the bunker Sam explained his plan.

“Archangel grace can be used to jump dimensions, right?” Sam asked even though he and Dean both knew that was true. Dean nodded anyway. “So, what I was thinking is that we, in theory, should be able to use Cas’ grace to open up a portal to where Y/N is. We can go through, grab Y/N and bring her back.”

“Do you even know if that will work?” Dean questioned, glancing at Sam.

“Well,” Sam started. “No, not exactly.”

“So, we have a half-assed plan that we don’t even know is going to work and is taking us farther away from where Y/N is currently locked up?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“I don’t see you coming up with anything,” Sam said, his voice rising.

“Yeah, cause you said you had a plan–,” Dean is interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Hello?” he barked not even looking at the caller ID.

“Dean,” you breathed on the other line and Dean was so relieved to hear your voice. “Where the hell are you?” he knew he shouldn’t let the panic into his voice so you would stay calm, but he couldn’t help it.

“Is that Y/N?” Sam asked. Dean nodded before taking the phone from his ear and putting it on speaker.

“I’m at the police precinct,” you said relieving both men. They hadn’t voiced it, but they had both been afraid they would move you to somewhere with higher security, especially if the feds found out that you were involved with them. They hoped for your sake it didn’t come to that.

“We know what happened and we are so sorry. We should have gone with you. We are going to find a way to get you out. We aren’t sure how, but we will. Oh, and Sam is here too.” Dean said having to get some of the guilt off his chest. Obviously, he knew that Sam had a plan but given the fact that they had no idea if it would even work, he didn’t want to give you false hope. Plus, if their call were being monitored it would be better if the feds didn’t hear what they were planning. Not that they would necessarily believe it.

“Hey Y/N/N. How are you holding up?” Sam asked.

“Hey Sammy. I’ve been better.” You chuckled, but there was no humor to your voice. “It’s bad. I don’t know if I’m going to get out of this one.”

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. They could both hear the fear in your voice, and they hated that they couldn’t do anything but reassure you that it would be okay.

“Hey, none of that. We’ve been in situations worse than this. We will find something. You just need to hang in there. Don’t admit to anything,” Sam said. Dean glanced over and saw the determination on his face. The look made him feel more confident that they would be able to get you home.

“Okay. Yeah, I won’t.” you responded, and they could hear the hope that Sam words had given you.

“I got a hold of Cas earlier,” Dean said. “He is heading this way too.”

“Good. I’m glad he will be back with us,” You said.

“It’s going to be okay. We will figure something out.” Dean repeated.

“I know. I trust you guys. It’s just…” You paused. Sam and Dean waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, Dean reassured you again.

“We know. We’ve been there.” Dean said.

You were still quiet and the brothers glanced at each other, wondering what was happening on the other side of the call.

“Should I ask for a lawyer?” you questioned suddenly.

Dean turned to Sam, “Well, should she Sammy?”

Sam gave his brother a glare at the nickname, making Dean roll his eyes. Apparently, it was only okay if you called him that.

“It would probably be better if you did. We have had them in the past. That way they can’t try and pull a fake confession out of you,” Sam advised.

“Maybe I should just tell the truth,” You replied. Both of the brothers’ eyes widened, surprised that you would want to tell the FBI about the supernatural.

“That is always a tight rope to walk,” Dean cautioned.

“Yeah, you should really think about that before you do,” Sam added.

“You might be right,” you said, but you sounded slightly dazed and distracted. “I have to go. They are wanting me to get off the phone.”

“Okay. Just be careful. We’ll figure this out.” Dean said.

“I know you will. I–I love you guys.”

Hearing you say those words softened the two men that thought of you as a sister. That wasn’t a word the three of you, or even four counting Cas, used that often and at hearing you say it in a stressful time like this, like you weren’t sure when you would see them again, made the brothers realize that they need to say it more.

“We love you too, Y/N.” Sam said softly.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean confirmed.

With a quiet goodbye you hung up the phone.

Once Sam and Dean got back to the bunker, they saw Cas’ ’78 Lincoln Continental parked in the garage. Dean was relieved to see it no matter how much he hated the car. The boys grabbed their duffels and headed into the bunker. Cas was sitting in the library, several books laid out on the table as he searched through them.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, setting his bag down on the side of table not covered in books. Cas looked up at the two men.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.” Cas replied. “I’ve been searching, trying to find something that can help us, but I have not been particularly successful.”

Dean pulled out a chair that was across from Cas. “Well, that’s okay,” he said sitting down in the chair. “Sam has a plan.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

Sam rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair next to Dean’s. “My theory is that if we can use archangel grace to jump between dimensions, we can use angel grace to teleport to other places here on Earth.” Sam told Cas.

Cas squinted his eyes and tilled his head. “In theory that could work.” He said, causing Dean to grunt. “I have never tried it, though. Not long ago I wouldn’t have needed a teleporting spell to go anywhere in the world.”

Dean sighed; his head tilted back so he was facing the ceiling. “Okay,” he said, looking to Sam and Cas. “If we do this and it does work, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not.” Cas said. “Y/N is with the FBI, who you have been on the wanted by for years and still would be if they didn’t think you were dead. I’m going”

Dean sighed, knowing he was right as much as he hated it. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

The three of them went to work finding the ingredients to the original spell. A pile of bones, dried herbs, cuts of wood fungus, and a pinch of dark powder, were all found in the storage room of the bunker. They added in a lock of Y/N’s hair that Dean grabbed from your hairbrush, so they could direct the spell toward your location.

After having everything assembled it was time for the final ingredient. Cas took the knife that Dean held out to him. He brought the knife across is neck letting some of his grace flow out into the small glass bottle that Dean held up to him. After the glass was filled, Cas brought his hand to his throat, healing the wound with a glow of light from his palm.

Dean took the bottle and pored it over the bowl that held the other ingredients. As he poured the grace into the bowl Sam chanted in Enochian.

“Mah ray, fah doh, em lah. Kah day, em lah. Kah day, em lah!”

There was a flash of light, before the portal formed in the room. A crack glowing a dark gold. Cas looked to Sam and Dean for a moment before he walked through the portal, disappearing from the brothers’ view. Now all they could do is wait.

[saltywritings]

I’ll Wait For You | Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Ordinary! Reader x Five Hargreeves. When Five time travels back to save his siblings and the world he decides there’s someone he needs to find first. You and five were in a secret relationship during the time of his disappearance and you have not seen him since he disappeared all those years ago. However, he realizes that everything has changed as soon as you open the door.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1,603

Number Five had been back in 2019 for two days now. Since he had managed to jump back the only thing that had been on his mind was you. You were what Five thought about all day everyday since he was trapped in the apocalypse. Five had become so deranged at the time that he named a manikin after you and talked to her like she was you. Each day Five thought of how good it would be to kiss your lips one more time, to hold you in his arms, or to feel your hand in his. You were the most extraordinary person he had ever met, and yet, you contained no supernatural or superhuman abilities. Five loved you, as much as a thirteen year old boy could have loved someone.

However, being away from you his brain had continued to grow and romanticize the love he had for you. By now he was still gushing over the memories a thirteen year old boy had with a thirteen year old girl.

You on the other hand? The thought of number five had never really left your mind. At first, you had thought that Five was trying to break up with you. After all, he never responded to a single letter you left hidden for him, he was never at your meet up spots... The easiest explanation was that he was just done with you. It seemed so unlike Five, to leave things this way. You would continue to leave letters and sit alone at the café of months. In hopes he would one day appear back into your life. Little did you know you would be doing this for some time. Each Tuesday by yourself with a donut that was meant to be split between two people. You would often cry and eat it all until one particular Tuesday you went to the café. While you did not recognize the girl that sat across from you the outfit resembled Fives closely. 

The pale girl with dark hair claimed to be his sister. With a handful of the letters you had been sending him she explained Five’s disappearance to you. Vanya would be the only person to ever know about you and Five. 

Each week Vanya would be the one to meet you at the café, she would sneak out and split a donut with you. The two of you decided to keep this up until Five returned. That way neither of you would be lonely without him. However, the weeks turned to months and the months turned into years. You waited for him because even though you were young, you had loved him. So, you waited. You waited as long as you could. Vanya would tell you, “It’s okay, Y/N. You can move on.” For years you wouldn’t listen to her. After ten years of waiting for him to come back you decided to let Five go. You moved on the best you could. 

Vanya told Five everything. How she found you hiding letters, how she found out about the two of you, and how you and her would meet in the café that you and Five use to. Vanya gave Five the letters she saved, but he still could not bring himself to even open them. 

"Maybe you should go see her?” Vanya had suggested to her brother, who had currently been crashing in her apartment. 

“And say what...?” Five questioned her. He wasn’t sure what to even say to you that would make up for all the time Vanya said he waited for you. 

“Does it matter? If you still love her it might be good for you to see, you know . . . that she’s okay” Vanya tried to explain, she was trying to be helpful. Five on the other hand was trying to avoid it, he thought if he saved the world first it would make the reality of seeing you easier. 

“Even like this?” Five asked gesturing to his body, physically he wanted to be a man. An adult like you had been. Maybe it would have been easier for him if the both of you looked different then you had remembered. 

“That’s probably for the best” Vanya had assured him, and just like that, with the current support of Vanya, and your address in his hand he made his way to your door. 

Five was satisfied with the exterior of your town house. It made him feel good to know that this is where you had been living. Somewhere nice. He tried to find your body amongst the rubble when he was stuck in the apocalypse, but he was unsuccessful. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what you were suppose to look like at the age of thirty. Five stood at your door, his hands shaking while he attempted to make a fist. Weakly, Five knocked on your door. You, on the other hand, had simply been doing the dishes. Quickly you dried off your hands and made your way towards the door. “Coming!” You called out. In this moment, you had not really been thinking of who was here. But when you opened that door you hadn’t expected to see Five Hargreeves. Therefore, when you opened the door you almost couldn’t believe that the boy you loved all those years ago was in front of you. “F-Five?” You questioned him. 

“Yeah, Y/N. It’s me.” Five said, he looked over your features to see how you had changed, the curves of your body was those of a developed woman. Your hair was shorter then before, a few more freckles had covered your skin, and your nails no longer and been chewed. You had changed in ways he had not imagined. But still, he looked at you and his heart still stopped. 

What you should be feeling was lost on you right now. The feelings were overwhelming and hard to sort through. You could faint, however, in order to avoid such a fate you suggested, “Why don’t you come in and we could sit or something,” five simply nodded and complied. You sat down on the sofa, your breathing almost out of control while you tried to grasp that Five came back. 

The feeling of panic was the first feeling that had overcome you among seeing Five. Your body was shaking when the second feeling overcame you. Guilt. If only you had waited longer. If you had waited longer then he would have someone to return to. While you had been on the couch trying to sort out your feelings and think of something to say, Five had taken a moment to look around your home. The boy in front of you had still been standing at this point. Five’s eyes looked around at the toys that were on the ground and the pictures on your wall. The pictures of you with another man. 

The pictures of you with your husband. To say that seeing this did not initially hurt Five would be a lie. To see you in this house, with small toys on the ground, a ring on your finger, and photos from a wedding was enough to make Five’s heart ache. He wanted this with you some day. He imagined what it would be like to have this life with you. to see you have it with someone else was enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You finally broke the silence, his head not turning from the wedding photo that had been framed on your wall. “I waited ten years for you five,” You tried to justify your decisions. Your marriage, or why he came back to you to see this life you built. 

“I know- I’m not . . .” Five had trailed off, trying to collect himself. “I’m not mad at you, Y/N. For a while when I was gone I thought I could still come home to you but . . . after the years pasted I hoped you had this” He confessed. 

Warm tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks. Five walked across the small distance that had separated you and him, using his thumb to wipe the tears from your face. “I should have waited longer,” You managed to say, the feeling of guilt overwhelming you.  

“No, trust me Y/N. You waited too long. I’m happy that you have this life.” Five said, his hand still holding your face as he spoke. He offered you a small and sad smile as you offered him the same. “Does he make you happy?” Five asked you. You only managed to nod and he continued on with the sad smile he had been offering you since he closed the gap. 

“Good.” Five said simply, lowering his face down slowly to be level with yours. “You’ve grown to be more beautiful then I ever could have imagined” Five cooed to you, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to keep himself together. But then, you had pulled him into your arms for what would be the last time and Five enjoyed what he had missed all this time. He enjoyed your embrace for the moments he was able to hold on. But Five knew what he had to do. He had to let you go, and therefore, Five let you go. “I hope this life is good to you, Y/N. I’ll never forget you” Five said, and in a moment of blue light he was gone. 

Five was just gone. Tears continued to slip from your eyes as your hands reached out for something of him, anything. 

“Five. . .” Your voice echoed into the silence of your home, and once again you fell onto your couch. 

As Five transported onto a near by street he looked back to your home and whispered, “I’ll wait for you”

[mittensmorgul]

it’s a bummer to see you can’t enjoy the ending. I hope someday you can come around it it. It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t nuke its integrity. i think the heart of the show really shines through and it’s a shame that it’s not being appreciated bc there’s so much shipping drama 😣

Hi there!

I... first of, I really need people to understand this... the travesty of the finale for me has almost nothing to do with “shipping drama.”

Yes, I see the wild conspiracy theories flying around, and I’m honestly concerned for some of those folks and hope they can find a way to make peace with this in whatever way they can, because we aren’t likely to ever get a better answer than that this is legitimately the ending that Dabb thought was best, despite years of us seeing the best of his writing choices and guiding Sam, Dean, and Cas to grow past the roles that Chuck would’ve forced them to fulfill, and that at the end it fell flat because he couldn’t actually come up with a better ending than “this was always their destiny, free will is a lie, and these characters had nothing outside of the revenge quest they’d been raised for since birth and manipulated into over and over for the entertainment of a vengeful god.”

I can see how “surface level” viewers would feel that this one basic narrative point was satisfying, that Sam and Dean had grown beyond their own hopeless cycle of self-sacrifice that had driven the narrative for so many years. The fact that they both acknowledged that they should allow their stories to end in that way was satisfying... but only in the shallowest and most detached read of the narrative. Like, is this really the ONLY thing these two characters learned in the last 15 years? If so, that is BEYOND depressing af.

And even THAT message lost all narrative weight when the two of them were once again reunited in death, as if nothing else had ever mattered in their lives. As if neither of them had ever outgrown the codependency that had driven so many of those previous self-sacrifices and refusals to let go of each other even in death.

So yeah, in the absolute most basic sense, I suppose I can see how casual viewers or people who aren’t actually invested in these characters could find that at least narratively coming back to a starting point.

But narratives don’t actually work that way, and that’s not the point of watching fifteen years of story develop in between.

This story wasn’t JUST about Sam and Dean needing to accept that death might be okay actually.

This story was also about free will, fighting for humanity as a whole but also their OWN humanity and self-identities. In Dean’s case, the absolutely transformative growth from feeling like nothing but a hammer, a killer, a tool to be used. And then less than an episode and a half later, after finally accepting that truth into his heart and using it to defeat the original creator and reclaim the story of his own life for himself... he gets pied in the face after flippantly talking about his destiny and having no choice, and then three scenes later he literally dies impaled on a great big nail... like a hammer...

So I would kindly ask folks who feel satisfied by that shallowest possible takeaway of this episode, and maybe invite folks to look just under that surface. Try to understand why loads of us will NEVER feel satisfied with this ending, and why it truly does feel like the most hopeless version of the story. Like even in defeating Chuck, they could never be allowed to own their own stories and what happened to them after that point was just a twisted version of the “destiny” that drove Chuck’s entire plotline for them anyway.

Please understand where we’re seeing this as horrifically painful irony rather than some beautiful circular narrative about letting go.

For a lot of us, the shipping stuff would’ve been the cherry on top of the sundae. We would’ve been happy with a scoop of plain vanilla, though. We would’ve been happy for anything that honored the journey to freedom, and the choice at any sort of a different life of their own making than literally falling back on a nail fighting off one of John’s unresolved hunts and a vampire who had literally never been named in canon before, yet who Dean instantly recognized somehow... 

but sure, for those of us who felt that “the heart of the show” was all the stuff that the finale actually erased-- that “family don’t end in blood,” and that this was actually not a show about just two brothers but the love of their found family and coming to terms with the choices they actually HAD made for themselves versus the narrative that Chuck kept centering them in DESPITE what they would choose for themselves, the finale basically told us no, everything you ever found of value in this story actually meant nothing. It told us that Chuck’s story for them was their only truth in the end, and their only freedom was to be found in death.

Please, I am begging people, stop trying to gaslight us that this was some beautiful ending. Maybe think for a second that “your read” of the narrative that allows you to find peace with the ending is not what we saw and loved about this story for the 326 episodes leading up to this finale.

And please try to understand that we were not wrong to see the entire narrative through this lens. Because we were literally validated IN CANON, and told that we understood the depth of the story and the characters just fine, actually. There’s literally ONE episode of the entire series that burns it all down in a bewildering pile of wtf. And that’s #327. That throws that entire read out the window to well actually us all back into Chuck’s literal ending... This was literally the ending Chuck wanted to force them to enact for him, and it’s what ended up happening even after they defeated him-- the ultimate Big Bad of the entire series should’ve been defeated, but instead he pulled off one final victory over the entire story.

Becky: No. You can't-- Chuck: I did. Becky: Y- This is just an ending. Chuck: Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna get there, but I know where I'm goin'. Becky: B-But it's so... dark. Chuck: But great, right? I can see it now -- "Supernatural: The End". And the cover is just a gravestone that says "Winchester". The fans are gonna love it. Well? Becky: It's awful! Horrible. It's hopeless. You can't do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam? Chuck: There, see? It's making you feel something. That's good, right?

and

Dean: Well, what now? You're not gonna dust us. Chuck: Oh, yeah? Why not? Dean: Because you're holding out. For your big finish. Yeah, we know about your galaxy-brained idea, how you think this story is gonna go. Sam got a little look into your draft folder. Chuck: Sam's visions -- they weren't drafts. They were memories. My memories. Other Sams and other Deans in other worlds. But guess what. Just like you, they didn't think they'd do it, either. But they did. And you will, too. Dean: No. Not this Sam. And not this Dean. So you go back to Earth 2 and play with your other toys. Because we will never give you the ending that you want. Chuck: We'll see.

And even in DEFEAT Chuck thought he understood these characters, thought that having rendered him powerless they would finally take their revenge and kill him, but they didn’t, because he never actually understood these characters at all. And the story he tried to force them into from day one was never about THEM, it was about HIM. 

And then Dean gets like two whole days of freedom and choice and is apparently incapable of making any of the choices that don’t throw him immediately back into Chuck’s favorite story. Like none of that resolution in the previous episode meant anything at all. He even SAYS it in the finale:

Dean: Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away. Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.

And then two scenes later the show gives us the Nelson Muntz HA HA and Dean is no longer living, and Sam is left to carry on as a shell of himself and wander off into Blurry Wife Land to devote any even remotely content moment of the rest of his years to raising a  Replacement Dean to fill the void, and is never able to pick up the pen to write anything better of his own life than Chuck would’ve dealt him in the first place.

So I’m glad that top-layer takeaway is sustaining and enough for you. It wasn’t, and will never be enough for the rest of us.

What was actually real in all of this? We were.

Until we weren’t.

And that’s honestly a shit message to be pushing on people in the wake of it all. So please stop.

I should actually thank you for the kind intent with which your message is phrased, but that doesn’t make it feel less hilariously awful. Though I chose this one to reply to as the least insulting of all the messages currently in my inbox on this subject. So thanks for that, at least.