#about the yelling at jacob. not about the being in a collapsed apartment building that SUCKS

[true-bluesargent]

oh brilliant minds was kinda crazy this week. this is the drama i've been waiting for i think

[deputysaint]

      i need to be told to stop playing new dawn. 

   ft: @sanctemony 

     john/deacon centered with some mentions of: joseph, jacob, faith, paul, rachel, hannah

        warnings: canon typical violence, character death(s), flowery smut, my tears

   it’s been a long time since deacon’s been in this situation, but he remembers the feeling of it, and knows what to do. even with his knees in the dirt, and his hands above his head, he has options. even with there being a gun pointed in his direction, he knows what he can do to get out of this. he can see that their grip is sloppy, finger on the trigger but too loosely to be a threat, and deacon knows if he needed to, he could get out of this. he could overpower the person hovering over him and take them down effortlessly and without really harming them. it’s all muscle memory, he’s done it hundreds of times before the collapse, and dozens of times since the arrival of the highwaymen.

 he knows he can do this. but he doesn’t. he sits and bides his time.

 there’s voices on the radio, the highwayman is swearing up a storm, a gleeful one, the busted lip he’s sporting doing nothing to prevent his excited report.

 he should be listening to the report, he knows he should be, but it’s boring things he’s heard before, and he doesn’t care. he catches his name in all the swearing and laughter, and then a slur he chooses not to acknowledge, and finally something about him being new eden’s guard dog.

 he bites back a grin.

 he’s not anyone’s dog. and he hasn’t been deacon saint in a very long time.

 movement catches his eye between the threats of don’t move and the twins are going to love this, and it takes all of his willpower not to track it with his eyes. he knows the man coming up on them, wearing a long jacket like nothing has changed in the world. deacon knows him well enough to know that he could probably kill the man above him easily even if noticed, but he also likes him well enough to not want to cause him that grief.

 john seed looks beautiful in everything, even his own blood, but deacon knows well enough that he’ll catch hell if jacob sees him with another split lip or bruised face, and that joseph’ll never forgive him if he brings john home with more scars than he’d left with. ( paul would forgive him, deacon knows that for a fact. paul was always forgiving, and would just sigh at the sight and ask who they’d pissed off that day. faith would probably laugh at them, curl her fingers in his and ask if they’d had fun. )

 some things changed in the new world, and some things didn’t.

 lacing his fingers together loosely atop his head, deacon chooses instead to smile up at his captor, all teeth and mirth and lacking any and all kindness he might have had before the collapse.

 he’s different now. still the same kind man who smiled at people, who believed in the good of the people of hope county before the bad. but he’s also more protective of them, and with the arrival of the highwaymen had come a strange, more dangerous side to him, something protective and ruthless and deadly.

 he thinks, despite what everyone said, that this part of him has always existed, it had lived in him long before he’d arrived in hope county, fresh and ready for his new job. he knows a part of him has always been unkind, but before he’d been better at smothering it.

 now, however, he has no reason to. his family needed him, the county needed him, and he would murder anyone who tried to threaten their safety.

 when john shoots out the man’s knee from behind, deacon is ready to launch himself at him, hands grabbing for the rifle and pushing it towards the sky as they fall.

 two pulses of gunfire. and then he’s dead, and john is laughing down at him, teeth too bright, hand held out.

 deacon takes his hand.

 -

 they hunt the highwaymen together.

 it’s not what joseph wants for his brother, for either of them, but he can’t stop them. he locks up new eden, forbids his flock from leaving except at night, under the cover of darkness and bliss-created fog, but he cannot stop john and deacon from doing as they please, just as he couldn’t stop jacob from taking his chosen, his wife and children, and setting up a separate settlement nearby.

 it’s the end of an era, the final act of brotherhood. they stand together, but apart, having chosen different lives for their family. joseph tends to his flock, his people, and jacob tends to his family, his people. faith stays with joseph, broken and a little mad, seemingly so small without her bliss. paul floats between settlements, alliance torn between two of his brothers, but unwilling to choose a side over the other and instead choosing to find a balance between the two.

 john and deacon wander. they hunt.

 they live.

 -

 it ends because of a mistake, a foolish moment of sentiment over sensibility.

 hannah’s gift, her final gift to deacon, gets caught on a branch as they’re running from highwaymen scouts. and deacon goes back to get it, ignoring john’s yells of warning and frustration.

 it’s the only thing he has of her left, of their unlikely friendship. and he won’t let it be lost.

 when he looks up after getting it, the scouts are too close, and shots ring in the night.

 there’s too much blood.

 -

  it’s been a while, but he’s been here too, with blood soaking his shirt and john leaning over him, trying to stop the flow with bandages and duct tape. but it’s never been like this, john has never looked down at him like that.

  they’re in a house, someone’s home, one of the few remaining buildings that had withstood the collapse. it looks familiar to deacon, like he’s been here before, searched it before, bled on this floor before, but he can’t tell when, or why, and honestly, he’s bled on a lot of floors before, nearly died in a lot of homes.

  he probably should have stopped with that shit seventeen fucking years ago. but he hadn’t.

  “john. john.” his hand feels like dead weight, like he’s been sleeping on it and it’s gone numb, and he nearly slaps john as he tries to cradle his face in his hand. “johnny.” he pleads quietly, and wide blue eyes flick up at that.

  there’s fear in them. deacon doesn’t understand why.

  “stop moving.” the statement is snapped out. a command. but there’s too much fear in his voice, and he’s shaking too much for deacon to stop trying to pet him, get his full attention.

  “you need to... to go.” it’s funny, because he thinks that when he hears the wet sound of something hitting the ground, he should be afraid. logic says he should, because that’s him bleeding through the shirt john has been pressing against the wound on his neck. but instead, he’s calm, so calm and peaceful.

  he’s dying, and he knows it. and he can’t help but feel free.

  “johnny,” he whispers the nickname, and this feels nothing like any other time he’s nearly died. everything is warm and cold at once, and he feels like he’s stepped into the bliss. “you have to go. the flare - they’re coming.”

  “i’m not leaving you.”

  i’m not leaving you.

  you’re not leaving me.

  you promised.

  everything is all muddled, but deacon can still read john like a book. and it’s not said, but he knows he’s thinking about the promise deacon has made, again and again and again. so many times over the many years they’ve been together.

  you’re never going to be alone.

  fuck. he closes his eyes, breathes out a sigh.

  “okay.” he smiles crookedly, and he knows it’s filled with blood. but when he opens his eyes, there’s blood, his blood, smeared up john’s cheek, and the former baptist is gazing down at him affectionately. “okay.”

  -

  john piles together all he can find, all the supplies they’ve been carrying. and all the things other people have left behind, or stored there during the collapse. there’s shotgun shells in a drawer, a gun taped to the underside of a desk, ethanol and bomb making materials stuffed under loose floorboards.

  john finds a familiar knife wedged between a stripped bed and the wall, but says nothing of it. just turns it over in his hands and stares for a long time. then smiles a bitter smile and heads back to deacon’s side.

  they make a plan. it’s suicidal.

  -

  deacon dies quietly, tucked against john’s chest.

  his last words are i love you.

  -

  less than half an hour later, one of the highwaymen lieutenants and his crew bust down the front door, and begins a room by room search of the home.

  they don’t recognize the smell of ethanol under the smell of wood rotting and blood.

  john smiles where he is, tucked in the dark, with deacon resting against him. he lights a road flare.

  the house erupts.

  -

  some seventeen years earlier

  deacon is over him, on him, in him and john’s disgusted with himself, even as he digs his fingernails in deep, even as deacon shifts and hits just right enough to cause him to gasp, his world to go briefly white.

  he hates him. he hates him so much.

  he hates that this isn’t about hate sex anymore, and that deacon’s long stopped letting john use him for frustration relief.

  he hates that deacon feels so good, and he hates that deacon can light his nerves on fire with just a touch or a look.

  he hates deacon’s soft whispers of god, you’re beautiful and fuck, fuck, john, i -

  he thinks he hates that deacon always cuts himself off before saying it the most.

  there’s a knife in his free hand, and he means to use it. he wants to go home, and it’s become obvious at this point that deacon’s morals will never let him join them, will never let the deputy join him.

  the fingers wrapped around the knife curl tighter, and move to raise it. above him, deacon doesn’t notice. his head is pressed to john’s throat, whispering sweet, nonsensical things there, pressing wet sloppy kisses to his skin, refusing to bite and make it hurt like john wants him so desperately to.

  he wants it to hurt. he doesn’t deserve this kindness and affection.

  he raises the knife the same time deacon raises his head to look at him.

  the world seems to stop. john freezes in place.

  but deacon, sweet deacon, his fucking saint, doesn’t see the knife, doesn’t look at anything but john’s face and there’s just so fucking much in his eyes that john doesn’t know what to do with. doesn’t deserve. doesn’t want.

  ( it’s a lie. he wants, he wants, he wants. )

  a warm mouth presses against his at the same time a hand brushes down across his ribs, uncaring of the scars that fingers catch on. the man’s other hand readjusts its grip on the underside of his thigh, pulling gently, so fucking gently. and then, the hand sliding down his body wraps around him, wet and warm, grip comfortably firm and tight.

  john chokes on a sob as his world whites out.

  the knife drops out of his hand, slides off the bed. wedges itself between the bed and the wall.

  deacon loves him, and it’s fucked up, but he thinks he loves him back.

[amanda-teaches]

Escaping the Island - Part 3

Series Summary: You’re in for the fight of your life, trapped on a deadly, ghost-filled island with no way out. The only way to survive is by unraveling a murderous plot. Can you figure out who brought you here and why before it’s too late? Or will you, Sam, and Dean all become their next victims?

Chapter Summary: You and Dean are pushed apart by a secret and a confrontation. Can you find a way to salvage your budding relationship, or will the ghost’s latest attack stop you before you even get a chance to try?

Characters/Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 4456

Warnings: Canon-level violence, hurt Sam and Dean, some angst and arguing

A/N: I’m sorry I took so long to get this part out, but I hope it was worth the wait! I’m really loving where this series is going and I hope you are too. Once again, this chapter was betaed by the fantastic @cyrilconnelly, and I hope y’all enjoy it! Feedback is much appreciated.

Escaping the Island MasterPost

Part One    Part Two

“We never should’ve come here, Dean. It was too risky.”

“Well, it’s too late to turn back now. We need to deal with this before it gets out of hand.”

“It’s already out of hand, Dean. Someone died! We can’t put more innocent people in danger.”

“We have to, Sammy. We’re the reason all of this is happening! We started this thing, we need to finish it. Now.”

You reeled back, Dean’s words echoing in your ears. We’re the reason all of this is happening! We started this thing, we need to finish it. Now.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Dean, the man who had defended you, the man who had saved you, had just told his brother that the ghost was his fault.

But, what did that even mean? Was the ghost after them? Is that why it was here? Or, even worse, had they brought it here? Were they the bad guys? Were they the reason Mr. Leder was dead?

As your mind continued to race with unanswered questions, you caught Dean glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. The second he saw you, he did a double take, his eyebrows raising with concern when he noticed the panic flashing across your eyes. “Y/N? You ok?”

Your face paled. “I, uh, I have to go.” You spun away before he had the chance to stop you, practically bolting to the other side of the room.

You frantically scanned the room until your eyes settled on Annie, who was casually sitting in the chair where you had treated Dean’s injuries just minutes before, with her legs swung up over the side. The second you caught her eye, she sat up tall, instantly alert at the urgency in your gaze. A question hung in her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from immediately moving towards you.

Before she could reach you, you felt a strong hand grab you from behind, turning you around, gently but firmly, until you were staring into Dean’s forest green eyes.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he questioned. “I know something’s wrong. I can see it on your face. What happened?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you stammered, but you were suddenly overcome by a desperate need to get to Annie and find a way away from here. Away from him.

“Look, I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I can tell something’s bothering you,” Dean urged in an effortlessly charming way, disguising the intense worry that hid behind his words. “If you just tell me, I can help.”

Help was the exact opposite of what his words did for you. All they did was make you mad; really mad.

You hardened at his slow and easy exterior, rage overwhelming you. How dare he try to help you, to understand you, when it was his fault you were feeling this way in the first place?

You mustered up all of your courage and stared him down, your glare as cold as ice. “You’re right about one thing, Dean. We don’t know each other. At all. Now, let go of my arm.”

His eyes widened at the anger in your words and he released your arm, backing off instantly. But, at that point, it was too late: everyone in the room had noticed what was going on between the two of you, and they were all staring directly at you. No way to back down now. It was time to get everything out in the open.

“You want to tell everyone what you and your brother were talking about over there, Dean? Or should I?”

Dean stared at you in shock, a hurt understanding materializing in his eyes before he lowered his voice to appeal directly to you. “Y/N, you think we can talk about this somewhere else? It’s a little complicated.”

“You’re damn right it’s complicated!” you yelled, drawing even more attention from the other members of the group. Everyone was hanging on your every word now, which was just fine with you. Maybe that would get Dean to explain what the hell was really going on.

“Son of a bitch…” he swore quietly before he turned to the rest of the group. “Everyone really want to know what I said that bad? Fine. I told my brother it’s our fault that the ghost is here.”

“Your fault?” Annie muttered disbelievingly, moving to stand by your side. “What do you mean ‘your fault’?”

Dean hesitated for a second, seemingly at a loss for how to explain it, so Sam immediately stepped in.

“It’s not what you think. See, Dean and I did meet Jacob just before he died, like we said, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Jacob was being hunted by that ghost. We were trying to save him.”

That got your attention, and you raised your eyebrow in surprise. “Save him? Save him how?”

Dean turned to you, guilt clouding his eyes. “We tried to stop it, but we couldn’t. Dawson died and the ghost disappeared. Now, it’s back and someone else is dead, and it’s our fault because we couldn’t stop it.”

The anger fell from you instantly only to be replaced with overwhelming sense of compassion and shame. Dean wasn’t responsible for Mr. Leder’s death. He’d only been trying to save him, just like he had saved you. But, had you given him the benefit of the doubt? No. You’d jumped all over him without even giving him a chance to explain. What kind of person did that make you?

You opened your mouth to apologize to him for overreacting, but Will got there first, stepping up and drawing everyone’s attention, including Dean’s. “Wait a second. So, you’re saying that Jacob was being haunted by this ghost and that’s how he died? He was murdered by the same monster that just killed Harold?!”

Sam nodded solemnly. “Yes. That’s what we’re saying.”

“Oh dear God,” Stacey whispered before she collapsed down onto the couch next to the still silent Gretta Leder. Will’s girlfriend, Abby, reached out and grabbed her hand comfortingly.

Will took the news about as well, dizzyingly staggering backwards before placing his hands over his face and turning away in shock, unable to face the reality of Sam’s words. You quickly glanced over at Annie and saw that same shock etched all over her face.

Your heart broke for them. This revelation must be so unthinkably awful for them to wrap their heads around. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how you would feel if you found out someone you’d known and cared for was killed by a ghost. Losing two people that way must be incomprehensible.

You caught Dean’s eye and gestured for him to meet you off to the side of the room. He nodded almost imperceptibly before whispering something to Sam and stepping over to join you. When he reached you, you took a deep breath and blurted out everything you’d been holding back. “Dean, I am so so sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that, especially not after what you did. I should have trusted you, I should have...”

He held up one of his hands, interrupting your soliloquy. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly, “it’s no big deal, really. It would’ve come out sooner or later anyways.”

But, you knew that, despite his assurances, he hadn’t entirely forgiven you. You could sense the change in his eyes, in his voice. He was more reserved, more closed off. Any hope for the connection you had been building with him was lost for sure now. And, it was all your fault.

You swallowed your disappointment and gave him a small smile. “Well, ok. Good,” you continued, “so, um, how do you two know so much about this anyway?”

“It’s what we do. My brother and me. We hunt ghosts and other monsters. It’s kind of our job.”

“You’re professional ghost hunters?! Wow. I bet that doesn’t come with a 401k.”

Dean’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch before he let out a deep laugh, giving you the first real glimpse of the Dean you had started to get to know when you patched him up. “I guess not,” he said with a grin.

But, the levity was short-lived, Dean’s smile disappearing just as suddenly as it had come. His expression darkened as the wall between you went right back up. “But, it doesn’t matter. Retirement really isn’t in the cards for us anyways.”

You tried to look past how guarded his previously easy and joking smile was with you now and focus on the matter at hand. “Okay,” you muttered, changing the subject. “So, you’re the expert. What do we do now?”

“We need to find the ghost’s bones and salt them and burn them. Then, it’ll be gone for good.”

You started to nod along, but you stopped when you saw Dean’s troubled expression. “It won’t be that easy,” he confessed. “There’s a problem.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were already dreading the answer.

“The last time we were here, we couldn’t find the ghost’s bones. That’s why Dawson died. The ghost vanished after it killed him, so we thought that was the end of it. Now that we know it’s back, we’re back to square one- where are the bones?”

“Did you look everywhere the first time?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, stepping over to join the conversation. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear, but we looked everywhere last time, even after Jacob died, and we didn’t find any bones or anything else the ghost might be tied to.”

Dean glanced over at the group of five that was still gathered in the middle of the room. “Well, we do have something this time that we didn’t have last time…”

You followed his gaze, picking up on his train of thought. “You think one of them might know what the ghost is tied to?”

“They knew Dawson better than anyone else, right? That’s why they’re here. If anyone would know why a ghost’s haunting this place, it’s them.”

“Ok,” you whispered, nodding softly in agreement. “But, they’ve all been through a lot tonight.” You paused, trying to find the right words to convey your concern without offending him even further. “Just, go easy, ok?”

Dean acknowledged your worry with a soft smile, while Sam put a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. We do this all the time. We’ll do everything we can not to upset them any further.”

You smiled at the reassurance and followed the two of them back to the center of the room. You stayed by Dean’s side, but you kept your distance, not knowing how he felt after everything that had happened between the two of you in the last few hours. It had been quite the rollercoaster.

“Alright,” Sam announced loudly, “can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Will dropped his hands from his face as he shifted around to meet Sam’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes. “What more could you possibly have to tell us? Don’t you think we’ve been through enough?”

Sam’s expression softened into gentle sympathy. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Mr. McHale, I truly am, but this really can’t wait. We need your help.”

Will’s girlfriend, Abby, stood up to join him, speaking for one of the first times that night. Her voice was soft, but clear. “We’d be happy to help, Mr. Winchester. What is it we need to do?”

Dean took control then, stepping forward to lay out the facts of the situation. “That ghost isn’t gonna leave us alone for long. We need to take the fight to it.”

“What do you mean ‘take the fight to it’?” Stacey asked, growing visibly alarmed.

“To get rid of the ghost for good, we need to salt and burn whatever it might be tethered to,” Sam answered. “That’s the only way it’ll be gone for good. We need you all to help us find what that is.”

“Wait a second,” Will yelled, his bravado returning full force, “you want us to go out there with a homicidal ghost running around? What are you, insane?! No way! We’re staying in here where it’s safe.”

Dean glowered at the angry man. “Look, I know you don’t want to face it, but we need to work together or we’re not going to survive this. The more people we have looking, the better. Now isn’t the time to give into fear.”

Will opened his mouth to fire back, but you stepped between the two men before he could. “Okay, everyone needs to calm down,” you yelled, holding up both of your hands to emphasize your point. “Us turning on each other isn’t going to help anything.”

“Y/N’s right,” Sam affirmed. “We need to focus on what really matters. That salt line won’t hold for long and we need to find whatever’s tethering it. Now.”

Will seethed for a moment longer before turning to Sam. “Fine, but I’m still not going out there to die. And, neither is anyone else. The two of you can go play hero all you want, but the rest of us are staying here.”

“I’m going with them,” you muttered quietly, drawing everyone’s stares. You couldn’t tell who looked more surprised: Will or Dean.

“You are?!” They asked in unison, the shock giving their faces an identical, scrunched up look.

“Yes, I am,” you said, a little more confidently this time, moving back to stand in solidarity with Sam and Dean. “Who’s with me?”

You waited a beat and, just when you were beginning to worry that no one else would join you, Annie stepped forward.

Will grabbed her arm as she did to stop her. “Annie, you can’t be serious.”

“If Y/N’s going, I’m going,” she snapped, swiftly pulling her arm out of his grasp before continuing over to join you where you stood.

You reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Thanks Ann,” you whispered. She smiled back in acknowledgement.

“Anyone else?” Dean challenged, but the four of you were met by a combination of downcast stares and shaking heads.

Sam frowned. “It’s okay. We understand why you wouldn’t want to take the risk. Stay here, keep the doors shut and the salt intact, and we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Sam led the way to the door, and you, Dean, and Annie followed. But, before you could reach it, you were stopped by a quiet voice. “Wait.”

You turned to see Stacey standing up and walking towards you. “Stacey? Are you coming with us?”

“I’m sorry, but no. I think Will’s right, that it’s too dangerous. But, I still might be able to help.” When you smiled encouragingly, she continued. “Jacob used to have a secret place that he’d go to to a get away, kind of like a man cave. The room’s entrance is hidden behind a bookcase in the upstairs library. Maybe whatever you’re looking for is in there.”

Sam leaned over to whisper to Dean. “Maybe that’s why we couldn’t find it the last time.” Dean nodded and Sam straightened up to send a thankful smile to Stacey. “Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

She smiled softly before moving back to the couch to sit with Gretta Leder. You, Sam, Dean, and Annie continued on to the door.

While Sam worked on undoing the lock, you drifted over to stand by Dean, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, whatever happened to not upsetting them any further?” you whispered fiercely.

“Oh, come on,” he whispered back. “That guy was asking for it.”

“I’m not denying that,” you acquiesced, “but how does it help to pick a fight?”

Before Dean could respond, Sam pulled the door open, drawing both of your attentions. “Alright, once we get on the other side of this door, we need to stay alert. Y/N and Annie, stay behind Dean and me.” You nodded in agreement and he continued. “We’ll head to the kitchen first to get more salt and then upstairs to the library. Got it?”

“Got it,” Annie whispered, while you nodded along. Sam quickly moved forward, followed closely by Dean and Annie, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before you joined them, taking a step over the salt line.

Once you were the other side, Will immediately closed the door behind you, making you jump a little. You heard the lock click and you knew: there was no turning back now.

Dean took the lead this time, moving from your side and to the left, disappearing down a hallway you hadn’t even noticed when you’d come in. You and Annie rushed to follow him, while Sam took up the rear.

You watched Dean closely as he moved, focusing on the way his head quickly moved from right to left, constantly scanning for any potential threats. He appeared relaxed as he walked, but you could tell by the way he was gripping the small container of salt that he was ready for anything, prepared to strike at a moment’s notice.

It seemed like an hour had passed before you made it down the hallway to the kitchen, even though you knew it couldn’t have been more than a minute at the most. Once you stepped foot into the kitchen, and caught sight of the familiar gleam of the stainless steel, you instantly felt calmer, safer even. Not that that made any sense at all.

“Get the salt,” Dean said firmly, his speech clipped and to the point. You and Annie quickly moved to the cupboards to begin opening each and every one, you checking one side of the enormous kitchen while Annie checked the other.

You’d made it about halfway through the cabinets when a chill swept through the air, sending shivers coursing through your body. You turned around to look over at Dean, but, when you caught his eye, all he said was one alarming word: “Hurry.”

But, the warning came too late. Before you could move, the ghost appeared, flickering into being right behind where Sam and Dean were standing.

You opened your mouth to scream a warning, but Sam and Dean were already moving, both of them spinning in sync to spray the ghost with what was left of salt. They were defenseless.

“Y/N, hurry!” Dean cried as the ghost rematerialized to his left. He bravely turned to face it, salt or no salt, but it quickly moved its hand, sending him flying into the wall, which he hit with a loud bang.

You hesitated for just a second, fighting the urge to run to his side, before Dean’s cries for help spurred you into action. Your body moved at lightening speed, as if drawing on some deep-seated, instinctive ability. The sounds of the violent struggle behind you only made you push your body more, making you move faster than you ever thought possible.

Suddenly, the sounds behind you stopped and you dared a quick glance over your shoulder. What you saw there froze your heart.

The ghost had Dean suspended in the air, his feet inches off the ground. Sam was sprawled behind him, conscious but clearly not in any position to help. Annie was kneeling next to him, desperately holding a towel against his bleeding abdomen. And, to make matters worse, there was no salt in sight.

It was all up to you.

You moved even more frantically, pulling cabinets open at a frenzied pace, all but throwing aside the many useless things that stood in your way. But, just when it seemed like all was lost, your fingers closed around the thing you needed most: the salt. You laughed in relief, happier than you had ever been to see that familiar black container.

You yanked it out and opened it as you spun around to face the ghost again. You whispered a quick prayer and sent your arm flying, the salt soaring across the room in a perfect arch. A millisecond before the salt hit it, the ghost glanced your way, hatred in its cold, dead eyes. You shuddered involuntarily as it vanished and Dean fell to the ground. There was a promise in that look, a promise that this was far from over.

You brushed away your foreboding thoughts and ran to Dean, grabbing him as he struggled to stand. “Dean! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from the struggle, but you noticed that he leaned on a you a little longer than you’re sure he would’ve preferred once he was finally on his feet again.

But, as soon as he saw his brother, he straightened up, his own pain instantly forgotten. “Sammy?!”

“I’m good,” Sam groaned before sitting up to prove his point. “Just a flesh wound.”

Dean visibly relaxed at the reassurance. “Good.” He then turned to Annie, offering her a simple look of gratitude. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

“Of course,” she answered back with a smile. “Any excuse to hang all over an attractive man, right?”

“Annie!” you gasped in shock, but Sam waved it off, letting out an amused laugh that made him wince from the movement.

“I like this one,” Dean joked with a wide smile, but it faltered as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

“Dean!” you cried again, grabbing him before he could fall. “We need to get you back to the den.”

“No, I’m good,” he vowed. “We can’t go back to the den.”

“Dean…”

“No, Y/N. We need to finish this before it’s too late. You saw what that thing was capable of, how strong it was. We need to end this now.”

You dropped your hold, knowing it was pointless to argue, so you agreed instead. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. But, you need to be careful, ok? You may look like Superman, but you’re not invincible.”

He sent you a weakened grin that somehow still made your heart skip a beat. “You think I look like Superman?”

“Shut up!” you playfully scolded as you took his arm once again and helped him to the door. Sam and Annie slowly followed, staying right on your heels.

You led the way this time, the salt in your hands instead of Dean’s. It was similar to your earlier trek through the house, but different this time. This time, Sam and Dean were injured. This time, they were depending on you to defend them, not the other way around. This time, if that ghost appeared, you’d be the one who would have to face it.

You hurried back down the hallway and up the sweeping, wrap-around staircase. Thankfully, the library was the first door on the left, so you didn’t have to search for too long before you found it.

You quickly scanned the room for any overt threats before stepping in and signaling to Dean, Sam, and Annie that it was safe to follow. Sam immediately moved to the bookcase, gripping his side as he began running his hands over the books. You watched him as he took in all of the books. He stared at them intently, as if he could see something no one else could. Finally, he reached out and pulled one book out of the shelf. Much to your surprise, the bookcase instantly slid aside.

You didn’t even try to hide your shock. “How did you do that so fast?”

He shrugged. “This book was more worn than the others, so I figured it must have been handled more often. Choosing it first seemed like the obvious choice.”

Dean turned to you and rolled his eyes dramatically. “That’s nerd for ‘I got lucky’.”

You laughed lightly before concentrating your attention back on the small room that had been revealed.

It was surprisingly spartan for a mancave. There was a giant TV mounted on the wall facing a single lazy-boy recliner, but it was empty outside of that. The only other thing in the room was a single shelf mounted to the far wall. It was bare with one exception: a lone porcelain doll, weathered by age.

You put down the salt on the ground and stepped forward cautiously, drawn to the doll as if by some unknown force. You heard Dean call out behind you, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop. You needed to see this doll, needed to see if such a small and insignificant looking toy could really be responsible for such pain and destruction.

Dean moved to stop you as you reached out, but he couldn’t. The second your hand closed around the doll, the bookcase door slammed back shut, trapping Sam and Annie on the other side. Dean ran to where the opening had been, banging on the wall, but you were frozen in place, still clutching the doll.

When the air around you began to chill, you knew you were in trouble. You tried to move towards the salt you had left on the ground, but you couldn’t. There was something holding you back, holding you in place. Something otherworldly. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream out for help. It felt you were being suffocated, being torn apart from the inside.

You could feel yourself fading, feel yourself slipping, and all you could see was the doll. It was inside your head. You were screaming at yourself to drop it, to run, but it was draining your strength. It was killing you.

Your eyes drifted shut, the hold growing heavier, harder, angrier. The doll fell out of your hand, but the grip didn’t lessen. It had you now, irrevocably, and you knew you were losing the battle against it. You couldn’t keep fighting much longer. It was too strong, too overpowering.

And then, suddenly, it was gone. The hold was released and you fell to the ground. You opened your eyes weakly to see Dean standing over the doll, flickering flames reflecting in his eyes. He ran to you, dropping to his knees and pulling you into his arms so your back rested against his chest.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You smiled faintly with what little energy you had left. “I’m good,” you whispered sincerely, echoing his words from earlier. He let out a sigh of relief, but his hold tightened on you ever so slightly, both of you breathing heavily as you paused to regain your strength.

“Hey, Dean?” you muttered after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his mouth inches away from your hair.

“Can we get the hell off this island now?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his whole body vibrating against yours. “We damn well can.”

If only it was that easy.

Keep reading with Part 4

Forevers- @hamartiamacguffin @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @cyrilconnelly @white-sky-black-birds @impala-dreamer @castielhasthetardis @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @shotgunintheimpala @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398

Dean Tags- @akshi8278

Escaping the Island tags- @wi-deangirl77 @sea040561 @roxy-davenport @its-not-a-tulpa @because-imma-lady-assface @cemmia @mrswhozeewhatsis @emilymorgan1994 @ericaprice2008 @juanitadiann @samwinlover @imdreamingofhim @growningupgeek

[friendliest-place-on-earth]

tell your dad

hey guys! I just can’t write enough songfics lately, it seems. this is a little something I came up with last night, and I’m actually pretty pleased with how it turned out. I tried a different format type thing with this one, and I like it. a note though: the final part is a few years ahead of the rest of the story. the final part of those days should be up by tomorrow, hopefully. in case you guys don’t know the drill, the italics under the cut are the lyrics to the song. this is based off a song by new politics from their album lost in translation, which was released a few weeks ago. it’s really good and I’d definitely recommend listening to it. okay, I’ve rambled enough. hope you guys enjoy! -mod rose 💜

TW: implied homophobia, mild panic attack

let’s kick it into flight mode

As they walked down the busy streets of New York, Jack nudged Davey ever so slightly. Nobody else would’ve noticed, but Davey knew to take Jack’s hand, and for good measure, he squeezed it tightly. As they walked down the busy streets of New York, nobody noticed two boys holding hands, hopelessly in love with each other.

When they finally arrived in Central Park, Jack took off running, weaving between scattered trees, park benches, and annoyed park-goers, much to Davey’s amusement. He followed suit, collapsing next to Jack on one of the benches, out of breath.

“You want to race back?” Davey asked.

“What’s the winner get?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe choice of movie tonight?”

“Sounds good to me. Get ready to watch The Phantom Menace.”

“Again? Why not one of the actually good Star Wars movies?”

“Oh, it’s on, now.”

When they finally arrived in Central Park, nobody paid any mind to the two boys racing each other, stopping only when they reached the street.

escaping like the shadow

The noise level rose in the apartment Medda Larkin rented on the third floor of an older building in Flushing as Davey and Jack opened the door, still chattering. She greeted them before quickly finishing dinner and calling Spot over from studying with a friend over Skype to eat. It was decided that Davey had somehow beat Jack in their race while they ate pasta and didn’t really eat their salads. The noise level rose in the apartment Medda Larkin rented on the third floor of an older building in Flushing as the movie, decidedly not The Phantom Menace, started and Spot teased his brother before going back to talking to Anthony with the pretty eyes from AP Government.

Davey felt his stomach twist as his father’s voice boomed through the phone, scolding him for being with Jack again. He answered quietly, hoping he didn’t sound as helpless to the people on the subway as he felt. The doors slid open, and he ran out before meeting Jack at the doors to the school building.

“Is everything okay?” Jack asked as they walked in, hand in hand.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Davey replied stiffly, and Jack could feel the other boy’s hand tense up.

“Was it your dad?”

Davey could only nod as he swallowed tears. He knew he wasn’t the perfect son his father had wanted. That had started as soon as he decided he liked books better than basketball, and boys instead of girls. But at least Les lived up to those ideals.

“Hey, look at me. It’s gonna be okay. This is a temporary situation. You’re gonna get through it, especially if I have anything to do with it. I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I love you, too, Jack. You might want to shut your locker if we’re going to make it to class, though.”

Davey felt his stomach twist as his father’s voice echoed in his head, but memories of the weekend and Jack’s words before class started drowned it out as the bell rang.

let’s go out on a high note

Jack had learned a lot about Davey Jacobs since they’d met, and one of those things happened to be that he was incredibly good at planning. Jack might have fantasized about their future, but Davey had every detail planned out. They’d both been saving for rent since sophomore year, when Davey had called Jack with a determination to get out of his house and be on his own, his voice still shaky, yells sounding faint in the background. And now it was real, the small flat with a kitchen that was somehow in decent condition, a bathroom with terrible water pressure, and an empty bedroom with gaping windows. Jack had learned a lot about Davey Jacobs since they’d met, and one of those things was that he had a terrible taste in furniture, specifically bed frames and decorative pillows.

Davey had done it at last, it being clean up the sink after Jack had stained it somewhat with some horrific neon orange color. He heard a knock on the door, and rolled his eyes as the keys on the side table confirmed his suspicions.

“You forgot your keys again? That’s the third time this month!”

“I know, I know. I’m used to having Medda home most of the time, so I never had to carry one around that much,” Jack said sheepishly. Davey handed him the cactus keychain that held only two things: Jack’s apartment key and a Kroger Plus card. He pressed a quick kiss to Jack’s cheek before Jack was out the door, headed for the studio. Today, thankfully, the schools had a day off, which meant Davey didn’t have to hear any middle schoolers complaining about the Iliad and the Odyssey. He did, however, have final papers to grade and a honeymoon to pack for. The ring on his finger still felt slightly out of place, but it was comforting now. There were only a few weeks left before Davey no longer had to wake up at five in the morning to hope the subway was on time and got him ten blocks away before the bell rang. Spot texted him to ask if Anthony, or Race, as he preferred, could come over with him for dinner. Davey replied with a yes, and set to grading the analysis papers he’d received in his email inbox. His phone vibrated with an excited reply. Davey had done it at last, it being keep the promise to his sixteen-year-old self and leaving his dad’s apartment behind, and being happy with himself.

‘cause i can’t wait for the summer.

[creativeashproductions]

Innocent [5]

Summary: Blake Ainsley’s always had a rule that she wouldn’t getting into a relationship with someone outside of SHIELD, the problem came in the form of a tall brunette hunter trying to be normal. Blake and Sam believe each other to be too innocent for the world they both know, one that involved chaos, death, blood and pain. Will they ever know about each others ‘real life’?    

Characters: Blake Ainsley/OC x Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff

Words: 2664

Warnings: Swearing, blood, a little fluff, and a little angst.

Part One  Part Two Part Three Part Four

Masterlist

Prompt List

Blake arrived at the hospital and walked into the room where Nat and Steve were waiting for news. She came holding coffees for everyone to keep themselves busy. She quickly squeezed Steve’s shoulder in support before swiftly hugging Nat before she could react.

“Is he going to make it?” Nat questioned emotionally.

“He’s Fury. Of course he’ll make it.” Blake weakly smiled at her friend.

“I don’t know.” Steve mumbled. ���Tell me about the shooter.” Blake demanded before Nat could open her mouth, “Has to be highly trained to cause Fury this.”

“He’s fast and strong. He had a metal arm.” Steve replied just as Agent Hill walked in.

“Ballistics?” Nat asked.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable.” Hill said without looking away from the operation room. Seeing Fury laying there tore at her heart.

“Soviet made?” Blake questioned wanting answers in order to kill the kick son of a bitch. “ Yeah.” Hill says just as Fury begins to worsen right in front of their eyes. Blake moved her head to her mouth in shock of seeing such a strong man begin to die right there. She lets a sob out when one of the doctors announces his stats dropping.

“Crash cart coming in.” A nurse says as the machine comes closer to Fury.

“Nurse, help me with the gauzes, please. BP is dropping. Defibrillator!” A second doctor yells as Blake and the others watch in horror as their boss flatlines.

“Come on Fury.” Blake whispered tearfully.

“Don’t do this to me, Nick.” Nat muttered lowly feeling the pain of the situation sink in.

“Stand back!” A doctor called out, “Three, two, one. Clear!”

Fury’s body arches in to the air receiving a shock. The long beep singing throughout the two rooms.

“Pulse?” He questions the other doctor. His co-worker places his fingers to Fury’s neck.

“No pulse.”

“Okay. Charge to two hundred please. Stand back! Three, two, one.” The doctor calls out and again Fury’s body arches into the air, “Give me epinephrine. Pulse?”

“Negative.”

“Don’t do this to me Nick. Don’t do this to me!” Nat calls out.

Blake’s knees begin to collapse until Steve catches in time, they hold each other in support as the continuity of reviving Fury goes on. Feeling the tormented eyes for the four people waiting on the other side of the window. The doctor glances over to Blake before turning back.

“What’s the time?”

“1:03, Doctor.” A nurse says placing her hands together. If they had revived him he would causes a great piece on their resumes.

“Time of death, 1:03 AM.” It’s official. Fury is dead and Blake wants revenge.

She watches as Steve glances down to the flash drive in his hand from Fury with direct orders. Blake knew that Steve would go into further detail on the secret meeting he had in his apartment. They had to be careful with Nat in the room though, even in a state of grief she would know something was up. They were led into a room where Fury’s body was laying as if he was only taking a nap.

“We need to take him.” Maria says as Natasha lets the tears rush down her cheeks.

“Natasha.” Blake softly asked wanting to comfort the woman. Instead Nat ignores her as she places a head on the father figure she had respected and loved since she met him. Within seconds she was out the door.

“Natasha!” Steve bits out following both females out of the room. The woman in question swings around getting in his face.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha savagely asks.

“I don’t know.”

“I bet you she knows.” Nat spits out motioning towards Blake  trying to pry Nat a safe distance away. Just before Blake or Steve could reply they were interrupted again.

“Captain, they want you back at SHIELD.” Rumlow interrupts, “They want Viper too.”

It was rare she was called her code name since she left the organization responsible for the way she was raised. Instead she was called Agent or just her last name. It was off when Rumlow stated her code name but she shrugged it off.

“Yeah, give us a minute.” Steve replied glances over at the other man.

“They want you now.” Rumlow replies.

“Okay.” Blake mutters not bothering to look over at him. He would take her by force if he had too. They both knew it.

“You’re both terrible liars.” Nat tells them, “I’m surprised Sam hasn’t found out about your life yet.”

With that Natasha walks off from the two people she worked with most other than Clint. Both Blake and Steve watched the Assassin walk over in concern, yet they both knew she could handle herself even in this state.

“STRIKE team escort Captain Rogers and Agent Ainsley back to SHIELD immediately.” Another Agent stated.

“I told them.” Rumlow grumbles not liking being ordered by woman.

“Blake get them into conversation, I’ll be one minute tops. I have to hid this.” Steve whispered without moving his lips much. He needed to hide that from the observant Rumlow. Blake walked over to the older man slightly swaying her hips.

“Brock do you know what the matter is? I wasn’t supposed to be called in today.”

“You’re being called in since you’re in the area and not at your personal quarters.” Brock replied to her. Right at the end Steve joined them.

“Let’s go.” Steve says. Subtly Blake notices the flash drive hidden behind the gum in the vending machine. IT was incredibly smart on the Cap but she wondered exactly how he managed to do it without anyone noticing.

“Yeah.” Rumlow nodded, “STRIKE move it out.”

➰

Back at SHIELD Steve and Blake are delivered to Alexander Pierce as he and Agent 13, otherwise known as Steve’s neighbour Kate, walk out ending their conversation. Agent Carter meets the cold eyes of her fellow agents before turning back to Pierce.

“For what it’s worth, you did your best.” Pierce kindly told the blond woman.

“Thank you, Sir.” Agent Carter replied as she turned to leave, “Captain Rogers, Viper.”

“Neighbour.” Steve coldly replies with Blake’s cold glare making Carter uncomfortable. She was sure that the two were dating now.

“Ah, my best Agents. I’m Alexander Pierce but I’m sure Agent Ainsley has told you much good things about me.”

“Sir, it’s a honour to talk to you again.” Blake tells the much older man. Steve gives a similar reply.

“The honour is mine, Captain. My father served in the 101st. Come on in.” Pierce motions the two into his office. He knew they were hiding something about Fury from him and he needed to know.

In the room it’s professional looking just as Blake remembered it but the new thing she saw was the picture frame Pierce picked up. It was an old photo of himself and Fury. She was surprised Pierce didn’t notice the suspicion that Blake has. Something was up if he had brought pictures frames into the room.

“The photo was taken five years after Nick and I met. When I was at State Department in Bogota. ELN rebels took the embassy. and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages.” Pierce said looking down at the photo with something akin to sadness, “Nick was deputy chief for the SHIELD station there. And he comes to me with a plan. He wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said that we’ll negotiate. Turned out the ELN didn’t negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They stormed the basement, and what did they find?”

Blake shrugged in response as Steve awaited the news.

“They find it empty. Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil. He saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter.” Pierce finished.

“So you gave him a promotion.” Blake and Steve said together.

“I’ve never had any cause to regret it. Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night? Why didn’t you tell anyone other than her.”

“I don’t know.” Steve says looking him in the eyes.

“You know it was bugged?”

“I did, because Nick told me.” Steve crossed his arms.

“For a guy that said you didn’t ever have a reason to regret it, you sure do seem to be putting blind faith against your deceased friend.” Blake muttered causing the older man to glare at her.

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?” Pierce not getting an answer continues, “I want you to see something.” On the screen beings an interview with Batroc. It was the usual questioning but obviously it was live.

“Is this live?” Steve questions not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Blake asked. “Assassination isn’t in Batroc’s line.”

“No it’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the Lemurian Star and he was contacted by e-mail and paid by wire transfer. And then the money was run through seventeen fictions accounts, the one going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.”

“Are we supposed to know who that is?” Steve questions as file is placed in his hands causing Blake to shift closer.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 14-35 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick. HIs mother lived at 14-37.”

“Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?” Steve questioned getting angry.

“Well the prevailing theory was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquistion and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.” Pierce replied putting his hands together.

Blake was getting uncomfortable with what Pierce was saying because Nick Fury would never do something like that. He worked for the benefit of the world and for personal gain. Not only that but the lack of emotion that Pierce had was concerning given that a close friend of his was no murdered.

“If you really knew Nick Fury you know that’s not true.”

“Why do you think we’re talking? See, I took a seat on the Council not because I wanted to but because Nick asked me to, because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking and the rhetoric, that to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stuck your hands in the mud and try ti build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today, makes me really, really angry.”

“Uh huh.” Blake mutters noticing the hesitation now before Pierce continues on.

“Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive. Viper would know from you Cap. I don’t think that was an accident, and I don’t think you do either. So I’m going to ask again. Why was he there?”

“He told me not to trust anyone” Steve finally gives up a little. “He’s right though.” Blake puts in.

“I wonder if that included himself.” Pierce casually said watching the discomfort grow on their faces.

“I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse me.” Steve says picking up his discarded shield and places it back on his back. Blake and him starting leaving the room.

“Captain. Somebody murdered my friend and I’m going to find out why. Anyone that gets in my way, they’re going to regret it. Anyone.” Pierce firmly tells them.

“Understood.” Blake and Steve once again say together. Both of them are silent in the elevator.

“Operations control.” Blake informs the elevator computer.

“Confirmed.” The closing door reopen as Rumlow and two of his men join the congested room.

“All STRIKE personnel on site.” Rumlow tells his men.

“Understood.” One agents say. Blake slightly hears it but she’s glancing at Rumlow in the elevator with his back turned. He never turns his back in a conversation with her.

“Yes, Sir.” The other agent says.

“Forensics.” Rumlow informs the computer.

“Confirmed.” is the reply he gets.

“Cap. Ainsley.”

“Rumlow.” Both of them reply as the elevator doors close and they start moving down.

“Evidence response found some fibres on the rook they want us to see. You two want me to get the tac team ready?” Rumlow asks.

“No let’s wait and see what it is first.” Steve replies carefully following Blake’s eyes around the elevator. The atmosphere is off and something definitely is wrong.

“Right.” Rumlow says keeping himself guarded.

The elevator once again stops letting even more members of Rumlow’s team on along with SHIELD members. Blake ignores the conversation going around as she keeps her moving around everyone. One man is sweating and even with this many people it wasn’t right.

“What’s the status so far?” One agent says

“Administration level.” The other one replies. “Confirmed.” The computer says.

“Excuse me.” The other agent says to both Blake and Cap.

“Um…I’m really sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up what happened to him.” Rumlow says. The problem was he didn’t seem to really care. At that moment Blake knew that something was really wrong now.

“Thank you.” Steve says feeling the same as Blake. More agents are entering the already full elevator.

“Records.” A STRIKE member says.

“Confirmed.”

It’s at this point with the doors shutting that Steve realizes that he and his friends are now completely surrounded by agents with no escape. Sharing a glance with Blake he returns to looking ahead. “Before we get started-“ Steve begins.

“Does anyone want to get out?” One pause happens before all hell breaks loose. Separately Agents pull out stun rods and shove them in both Viper and Captain. Letting a grunt out, Blake retaliated kicking him in the stomach with enough force to take out another agent as well. A clunk happens as Steve’s wrist is pinned to the metal door with a highly magnetic cuff. Blake shoved into the wall with a gun pointed against the back of her head.

Dropping to the ground she turns sending him the ground with a loud grunt. Crashing her elbow into another agents nose she feels rather than hears the crunch and the once moan of pain, without time to move she feels the stun rod shove into her side sending her to the floor as she hears Rumlow and Steve fighting but she can’t get away from the stun around.

“Whoa big guy. I just want you to know, Cap…THIS AINT PERSONAL” Rumlow growls as he again attacks with the stun rod. Within another minute Blake has turned the rod on the man and he’s passed out from the pain of it and the foot she had shoved into his nuts.

“It kind of feels personal. Blake are you okay?” Steve questions as he picks up his shield and opens the elevator doors. They’re faced with an armed group of STRIKE agents.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands up in the air.” The Agent in the front announces.

“No can do!” Blake calls out as she feels the elevator drops with the help of the shield cutting wires.

Steve is grunting while opening the doors to see even more agents coming towards the.

“Give it up! Get that door open. You have nowhere to go!” Another Agent calls out on this floor. Steve swiftly throws his shield breaking the glass as Blake drops the floor to avoid being hit. She doesn’t get up before Steve has yanked her into his arms and they’ll thrown themselves out the building with the shield under them. She feels her ribs bruise already as she gains speed with Steve. Looks like she wasn’t going home anytime soon and Sam wouldn’t let this one go.

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