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szchaql · 4 years ago

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Total Opposite (part 8)

Paul Lahote x Swan reader

Masterlist

Hi!! I'm back with Chapter 8! Sorry took so long hehehe hope you enjoy❤

(Y/n) could never imagine that her boyfriend and friends try to kill Bella. They, out of people, the one who know about her close relationship with Bella, try to kill her sister.

She's been thinking to call Bella. But she's scared of what will happened next. So she decided to just call Seth and ask him about Bella.

"Well... she's not good.. but she'll be fine.. the Cullen always be there for her." He said over the phone. (Y/n) sigh. "What happened, (y/n)? I heard from Leah that something happened with you and Paul."

"Uhh.. it's actually the same problem like Jake.. you know.. regarding my sister..."

"Ohhhh.. i'm sorry.."

"Why say sorry? You didn't do anything wrong.. me and Paul just didn't agree on a same thing... it's okay.." (y/n) say softly to her best friend on the phone.

Seth sigh heavily. "He didn't hurt you right? He didn't phase in front of you right?" He frantically ask as (y/n) chuckle.

"No. He just shaking. There're the others to prevent it. It's okay, you don't have to worry. By the way, I hope i can see Bella. But i don't feel safe and comfortable around them.. the cullen." (Y/n) confess how much she miss her older sister. It's been a month, she think, that she hasn't meet Bella.

"Don't force yourself.. and there are me, Jake ans Leah to protect you. And besides, they won't hurt you. They are vegetarian, remember.." Seth always knows a way to comfort the young Swan and (y/n) glad that they are best friend.

"Well.. maybe after all of this is over. Me and Paul have to reconcile too. Seeing Bella with my condition, doesn't sound great at all."

Then she heard the voice of Jake calling Seth name from a far.

"Yeah, that's right. Well, i have patrol. Will talk to you again. Okay?"

"Yeah, text me okay? And tell Jake and Leah that i say hi." Seth hum and hang up.

(Y/n) feels a lot better after a talk with Seth. But the knot on her heart still there. She still feel hurt after the fight with Paul and the pack. She want to talk to him and reconcile. But she's scared. And she don't want to give up just like that. She want to teach Paul a lesson. He hurt her, he has to try to accept her decision. He know very well about her and Bella and how close them two.

She lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought when her dad open the door.

"I'll go to the town. Want to come? You haven't go out since your fight with Paul." He said with a tone full of worry.

"No, thanks Dad.. maybe later." (Y/n) give him a small smile. Charlie nod his head, knowing that his daughter still need some time to collect her mind and heart.

"Call me if you need someting, okay? I will be home before 6." Then he close the door and go out.

As much as she love to be home alone, with the situation of supernatural things make her feel uneasy. She can's ask Seth or Leah. Heck, she can't even ask Emily. In this situation, she hate how her house is close to the forest. She decided to sit up and look out to the window, hoping that one of the boys have patrol around her house.

When she look out, she caught a glimpse of the wolf. But she can't tell which one since it's so dark. Part of her hope that it's Paul, but part of her hope it's someone else. But when the wolf walk closer to her house, she knows that it's Paul. His silver fur shine from the moonlight, making it more beautiful. His deep brown eyes meet her one, making her shiver.

Paul lay down closer to the house, watching her in full alert. Seeing how her boyfriend is watching her, make (y/n) feel safer. But the memories of how he and the pack want to kill her sister make her hurriedly close the curtain. She still can't look at him.

She decided to just doing her homework before she go to sleep.

Paul keeps watching the house for days non stop. Sometimes Embry watch the house at afternoon. But Paul always keeps watch at night until dawn.

Today is the day where (y/n) finally can enjoy her day. She is sitting on the sofa, eating snacks while watching a movie. Charlie is at work, as always.

In the middle of her movie, the sound of someone in the front door make (y/n) turn her head in alert. She stand up and walk toward the window to look outside. There are Embry and Quil, standing in front of the door. She sigh, knowing very well what they want. So she walk back to sit on the sofa and enjoy the movie, doesn't care about the 2 wolves outside the house.

They knock, but (y/n) doesn't even give them a mind. She keeps continue watch the movie, until Embry speak up.

"Hey. We know you are in there. Please let us in! There's something we want to talk about!"

(Y/n) keeps silent.

"Come on, (y/n)! Please!" This time it's Quil who yell.

(Y/n) groan before she yell back. "What! I don't care anymore! Now leave!" Her mood crush down. She didn't want to watch the great movie she watched anymore. She just want to be alone.

"Please! This is about Paul! He need you!" Embry yelled while banging the door mercisely. But (y/n) being a stubborn woman doesn't even give them a mind. She walk up to her own room, locking the window and closing the curtain.

But even then, the boys has another idea. They barged into the house, breaking the door. Hearing the sound of door being broken make (y/n) readi to smack them with a bat on her hand.

"OW!!" Embry yelled in pain as (y/n) smack his head with a bat, strongly. Quil couldn't believe his eyes as he retreat slowly.

"Get out! Now! Before i call my Dad for breaking the house!" She yelled angrily, ready to smack him again.

Embry hold his hands up, trying to calm the girl. "Please, (y/n). Just this one. He really need you." He said in desperate.

(Y/n) snort. "Need me? Need me?! After what he had done?! Unbelievable! Do you think i will easily get back to him?! Or to all of you?! You try to kill Bella!" She didn't know why she cried. Tears just pours out from her eyes.

"He regret it deeply, (y/n).. he's been sick since you left. And he won't eat anything. We are worried about him..." Quil speak slowly, trying not to get into her nerves.

"Still no. Now get out. I won't be back to him until you all, the pack decided not to kill Bella. That's it. If you still manage to try to kill her, it's over. It'll be done with all of you, including Paul." (Y/n) shoved the boys out of her room, even her house, with a bat still in her hand. Of course Embry and Quil still not give up to persuade her to meet Paul and reconcile. But it's no use as (y/n) bang the door in front of their face and lock it.

Regret? So now he regret it? He didn't even think about the consequence when he try to kil Bella.

Feeling tired of the situation, she decided to call her mom and spend some times with her, until everything is over.

"What happened?" Rene ask with worried tone over the phone.

"Will tell you later... I.. I just want to be back with you and spend time with you, mom... i really need this.. please?" (Y/n) voice is shaking, ready to cry in no time. She's so tired. She just want to live a normal life for a while.

Rene sigh, knowing very well about her youngest daughter. "Okay. Tell Charlie okay? I'll be waiting for you at home. Be carefull, dear one."

After speaking to her mom, (y/n) call her Dad about it. He agreed immediately. "Go. Rene will help you. Okay?"

(Y/n) hurriedly purchase the earliest plane and get her things. She just pack her clothes and bring some book. She also call Seth about it. "Do you need me to take you to the airport?" He ask as he help me pack my things.

"No.. it's okay, Seth. Dad will take me. Sorry for bothering over this. I just... i just want to live a normal life for a while.. this is too much for me.. i don't feel safe.." (y/n) said as she take out some of her clothes and put it in her suitcase. Seth helping her with the books.

"I'll inform Bella about this. Do you want to tell Paul and the pack?"

"No. Don't. Just tell Jake and Leah. And of course Bella. And i don't know if i'll be back after all this over...." Seth frown.

"You will be leaving for good? What about Paul?? Didn't it hurt you two?" (Y/n) sit down on her bed, Seth following to sit beside his best friend.

"It hurt of course. But what he did really hurt me. I know it's excessive. But.. Bella... she means so much for me. I can't let her die... it's okay even if she get turn into vampire. But at least she's alive and i can see her. And the most painful thing is that they didn't even hesitate to kill her..." (y/n) sigh heavily.

Seth nod, looking at her. "If you miss me so much, call me. I'll go to see you. Okay?" (Y/n) smile listening to it. Seth is always a cheerfull guy. He always try to make me feel better despite the circumtance.

"Thankyou.. for always being there for me..."

"Do you need anything?" Charlie ask (y/n) as they arrive at the airport.

"No. I'm fine.. thankyou, Dad..."

Charlie smile softly and hug her. "It's okay, dear.. as long as you are happy. Tell your mom i said hi. Get a full rest and enjoy it as long as you need. It's okay if you con't come back, I still can come see you."

After the hug, (y/n) get ready to go boarding. They hug for the last time and she receiving a goodbye kiss from Charlie before she leave. Sitting on the plane, she sigh. She knows sooner or later the boys will know. And of course Paul will do everything in his power to reach her and get her. She decided not to think further of it and just enjoy her quality normal life with her mom.

On the other side, Sam's pack has been restless. Bella's due date is almost there. Sam can't even rest his mind for a single bit. He think about Paul and (y/n) condition, and the Bella thing. He knows that when they decided to keep trying to kill her, (y/n) will never back and even forgive them. This will be bad for Paul. But he just can't let that baby do something horrible affer they are born. They almost kill Bella on the way.

The night comes.

Bella is in labor. Paul is watching the Cullen, despite his protest. As soon as Jake is running out of the house, crying, he know that Bella is dead. So he retreat and head back to inform Sam.

Billy try to stop Sam from doing what he want to do. Aa soon as they know that Bella didn'f make it, Sam immediately decided to fight the Cullen to kill the baby. It's getting out of hands.

Sam's packs are fighting the Cullen and Seth and Leah, when Jacob running in between them to stop. He even shift to talk with Sam.

Suprisingly, Jacob imprinted on Bella's daughter, Renesmee. Sam can't do anything about it. He can't kill her. That's against the law. So he and his pack retreat. But before they get to fully leave, Jacob inform that they didn't regret what they did. Because (y/n) surely won't come back.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked as he heard Sam's thought.

"She's back to Phoenix, living with her mom. Once she heard that you still tried to kill Bella, she won't forgive all of you and she won't come back. That's what she told us before she left. You knew about the consequence, Sam. But you still did it. You knew that the baby wasn't a harm to anyone, but you still tried to killed it. And now, see what have you done. To Paul, to (y/n), to us. I don't mind about us, but think about how hurt (y/n) will be when she knows. Just prepared yourselves then." Jacob said to Sam in warning tone, before he with Leah and Seth leave them.

Sam couldn't believe his ears. (Y/n) leave?

"What?!" Paul yelled in shock after he heard that his imprint leave. "Sam! Tell me!"

"Let's get back first and change." He and rest of his pack retreat. Paul forcefully follow him.

Once they back to Emily's and shift, Paul immediately ask Sam. "What do you mean that (y/n) leave?!"

"Jacob told me that (y/n) leave to meet is mom in Phoenix. She leave a week ago. Seth said that she want to have short normal life with her mom, that she's tired of all of this. She didn't feel safe at all. And there's a chance that she won't be back here anymore. And knowing that we tried to killed Bella... make things worse between us and (y/n)..." Paul couldn't believe at what Sam had said.

She leave just like that? She didn't feel safe? Why? Why did she just give up like that?

"I.. i have to see her! I have to ask her! I.. she can't leave!" Paul yelled angryly and feel hurt, then he leave. He have to see her no matter what. He feel so guilty for hurting her to this extent. He didn't imagine that (y/n) dare to leave him.

Jared and Embry go with Paul, for mental support. "Make sure he or she didn't do anything stupid. Make sure you two help them.." Sam said as they all in the airport, waiting.

"Of course. Don't worry Sam. We will do our best." Jared said.

When they heard that they need to get ready to board the plane, Paul without second thought leave first. Jared and Embry follow him after. Sam just hope that Paul and (y/n) can reconcile faster and make the best decision. He hope that (y/n) will back to Paul.

Taglist : @calling-dips-on-j-hope @tbhprobablydontcare @ivettt

#paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote #twilight imagine #wolfpack #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #twilight

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

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Robbing the Cradle

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1932 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Dean falls in love with a younger reader, and really struggles with it.

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Dean had put up a huge fight when it came to you, at least at first.

He didn’t want to be in love with you, and he didn’t want to admit how happy you made him. He didn’t want to but clearly that didn’t change the fact that he had fallen so deeply in love with you that he couldn’t dig himself out.

You were nothing more than a child, at least as far as he was concerned. You were only twenty-two years old, practically still in pampers and he felt weird about it.

After all, why didn’t you want to be with a man your own age? Didn’t you want to have a normal relationship? Why would you want to be with someone like him when someone better was right around the corner.

Dean wasn’t the most thoughtful, or well adjusted man in the world, and that wasn’t a secret.

He knew that there was someone who could be better for you.

Still, you showed no interest in anyone other than him. It shocked the man to his core, that you never once talked about what you were missing out on, or wanting to do anything other than what you were doing.

He just didn’t get it.

From Dean’s point of view, you should have been desperate to get out and experience life but who better to show it to you than Dean? That was the only thing that you ever said when he brought it up.

You just didn’t understand how he could ever worry about something like that. After all, how many guys your age were going state-to-state, hunting monsters and saving lives?

Dean Winchester was one in a million...whether he chose to believe it or not.

Take today for example, you had tagged along with Sam and Dean to track down a poltergeist that was committing a series of gory murders in a small town.

It had been a ridiculously stressful hunt, and it could have been dangerous but you had never felt more alive. You were obsessed with the thrill of the hunt. In fact, there was only one thing you liked more.

...And that was drinking.

You had learned early on that going to the bar with the guys after a hard case was the best way to unwind. There was honestly nothing like it and you had never passed up a chance to go after everything was over.

Which was good, considering the fact that Dean also really liked to hit the bar when he was stressed.

...But he wasn’t the only one.

There were a ton of guys with really hard lives and things they’re running from. Everyone had things they were trying to forget and liquor just aided in that journey.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing liquor did.

It also made some men lose their tact, which with a beautiful woman around, was never good. It was a bad combo and Dean was really figuring that out tonight.

“What’s wrong Dean?” you wondered, in a sing-song tone, even going so far as to throw your arm over his shoulder casually.

The action was a little goofy with the slight drinking you’d been doing but you were in no way drunk.

You had just been trying to get him to play pool for an hour now and tonight he was practically a bump on a log.

...It was no fun at all.

Especially not considering how much fun Dean was when he was in a good mood. You just missed it tonight, and you had no idea what was on his mind.

“Nothing’s wrong, just got a lot on my mind” he tried, but you knew better.

He may have been older than you but sometimes his pouting made you doubt it. You and Dean had been together for too long for that to work.

The two of you had nearly died today and all he could think about was the hunt. It was kind of unbelievable.

However, you were missing the biggest part of this whole thing. You had no idea but you and Dean weren’t alone in your casual affection. At some point, you had caught the attention of a group of strangers.

...But you hadn’t noticed yet.

You thought that there was something wrong with you, or that he was bored of your company.

“Please Dean? Can’t we just play? I wanna have a good time and forget about the monsters” you begged, your voice nothing more than a purr in his ear. You were desperate for a little fun, especially after such a long and stressful day.

Though, you still didn’t know that across the bar stood that group of younger guys, not much older than you are.

They’d had their eyes on you since you two walked in, and it was really starting to bother Dean.

He couldn’t stand it.

Dean had been around the block before, and he had been that sort of guy. He knew that they were talking about him, and that they were weighing their options about what their chances were with you.

They thought that he had robbed the cradle, and they were planning on taking you away from him...and why wouldn’t you go? They were young, and built and they could offer you the world.

How was he supposed to compete with that?

“I’m not really in the mood tonight, why don’t you play without me?” he suggested, waving over to the table begrudgingly. He felt bad about it but he just couldn’t fake it tonight.

These were the sorts of things that really got to him about the age gap that you two had. Other people constantly had their eyes on you, as if you didn’t know what you were missing out on.

Though, you both knew that wasn’t the case.

As far as you were concerned, you weren’t missing out on anything, and Dean didn’t ever get that far. He was fully in love with you, and as long as you wanted to be with him, he would take it.

...But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needed to sit by himself and stew over everything that was bothering him.

It was the way the Winchester men dealt with things, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

You nodded, taking the hint and heading over to the table. Luckily, you were able to reach out to a few people at the pool table and join their game. They were nice, but you found it really hard to take the distraction.

You were just worried about Dean.

So worried, in fact, that you completely missed the one brave guy out of the pack who approached you. He had just chugged an entire beer can, and he was feeling on top of the world.

Clearly, that had led him to believe that you wanted anything to do with him. Even if you were putting out every single signal telling him that wasn’t the case.

As far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter if this guy was David Beckham or the queen of England.

The last thing you wanted right now was for some average Joe to bother you.

Not that your very clear body language kept him from coming.

Before you could say or do anything about it, his arm was slung around your shoulder, a clumsy stumble following. He wasn’t smooth by any means, but weren’t too worried about it.

You were a literal monster hunter. You could handle a handsy frat boy that was too far out of his depth.

Both you and Dean had handled worse.

“Can I help you?” you wondered, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you shrugged him off, not even bothering to drop your pool cue. You didn’t imagine this would take too much time at all.

The Bozo to your right only laughed, smiling at you with a lopsided grin. “I was thinking more along the lines of how I could help you” he suggested, the words leaving his throat in a sick tone.

It made you want to be ill.

This guy was a creep and you knew for a fact that he had nothing to offer you. Though, before you could inform him of that simple fact, an all too familiar hand fell down on his shoulder.

...Because as it would turn out, Dean couldn’t just sit by and watch.

He knew that you could handle it, but he couldn’t help himself. As much as he tried to stay out of it, it made his blood boil to watch someone paw at you like that.

It wasn’t in his nature.

“Is there a problem man?” the younger guy wondered, looking at Dean as if he’d committed some sort of serious offense. If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

You could tell that Dean was doing his best to keep calm, which was good. However, you couldn’t be sure how long that patience would last.

If you knew anything, it wouldn’t be long at all.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but patient wasn’t one of them.

“No, there’s no problem at all...except for the fact that you’ve got your hands on my girl” he started, his jaw tensed slightly as he addressed the frat boy by your side.

He seemed just as upset as you could have expected, though he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it hidden.

“Wait, hold up, this is your girl? Is that what you’re telling me?” the stranger laughed, looking between the two of you with a grin on his face.

...Obviously that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but you didn’t get it.

There was nothing funny about it and as soon as he said it, you found yourself getting angry. Not only was this guy a creep, but he was also gonna question a man like Dean?

He must have been an idiot.

However, before you could step up and make that point, Dean stopped you with a calm glance.

You hadn’t been prepared for that reaction, but Dean had. From the moment that you two started doing this whole thing, he had been waiting for these kinds of reactions.

A guy like him had no business being with a woman like you, and he knew that.

“Look man, I get it...but yes, this is my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you backed off” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t go down that easily. Though, he wanted to give this kid a chance.

After all, he was just a young guy trying to have a good time and Dean understood that, not that he was going to let this whole thing slide if he kept it up.

...And of course he kept it up.

“Oh yeah? You’d appreciate it?” he scoffed, glancing down at you. “Can you believe this guy, honey?” he just kept going, laughing.

You could have killed him.

There was only one thing that you knew in this moment, and that was that this wasn’t going to end well.

*Bonus*

“Are you alright baby?” Dean checked, smiling at you in a tired sort of way. It had been a long day, but you nodded, anyway.

“I’m fine, are you okay though?” you hummed, returning the favor. He seemed alright, but the bruise blooming on his cheek proved potentially different.

That jerk had got one lick in before Dean knocked him out.

Little did you know, but in that moment, Dean had actually never been better.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x ps reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #supernatural x ps reader #supernatural imagine #spn x reader #spn x plus size reader #spn x ps reader #spn imagine

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lilxberry · 4 years ago

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You Owe Me 20 Bucks - Steve Rogers

Synopsis;

Steve just simply wants to protect you, you find it extremely annoying how his plans to protect you get in the way of you doing your job as an Avenger, and Bucky and Sam have a running bet.

Warnings: A lil bit of language. Arguing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of betting. Wack ass stuff man. Fluff.

Words: 2,030

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

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You walked into the meeting room, ready to be briefed by Fury for the next mission. This would be your first assignment in 2 months since your injury. Ever since you had woken up, everyone had babied you, especially a certain super soldier, which ticked you off to no end.

You took your place in-between Wanda and Bucky and prepared yourself for the droning voice of Fury and the nagging of Steve. “Hey, you good?”

You inwardly groaned at Bucky’s question. It was nice that the team cared so much but it was a bitch to deal with all their incessant babying and over protectiveness. “I’m fine, Buck, really.”

As if he could sense your irritation, he retreated and opted to leave you be. You signed in relief and sunk back into your chair. Just as you had gotten comfortable, Fury entered, followed by Maria then Mr. Patriarchy himself. “Avengers.” Fury simply greeted to grab everyone’s attention.

And so, the briefing had commenced and passed by, the only thing left on the check list was to discuss who will be part taking in the mission. “A team of 6 will be going in, the others will stay behind and only move out when needed. Stark, Barnes, Barton, Maximoff, Y/L/N, you 5 will be joining Rogers at the base.”

Before any body got the chance to voice their readiness, Steve had spoken up. “Y/L/N isn’t ready.”

You saw red as he had easily diminished your ability to be out in the field. “Like fuck I’m not ready.” You quickly stood from your seat so fast, the chair had scrapped against the floor before falling over harshly.

“If I say you’re not ready then you’re not ready.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground. Thing is, you were stubborn, every Avenger and agent knew that about you.

You walked towards in quick, long strides and stared him down, inches from his face. “It’s my body, I know when it’s damn ready.” You stepped back and looked towards Fury. “So, when we due to head out?”

“In an hour.”

“Great, see you guys at the jet.” You quickly turned on your heel and headed towards your room, ignoring the calls of your peers.

“I guess that’s all. Dismissed.” Fury disbanded the meeting, sending the remaining Avengers to prepare for their mission or go back to lazing around, ready to be called out as back up. Steve sighed heavily through his nose as her closed his eyes and pinched the bridge between his pointer finger and thumb.

As Bucky passed his best friend, he patted his shoulder and flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sympathising with his friend. This is gonne be one long mission.

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The time came for the team to meet at the jet. You stepped on to the platform and headed over to the jet to meet with the others. Just as you placed one foot on to the flying metal contraption, the blonde of the 40’s due spoke. “I said you’re not ready.”

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his complaints. Ensuring your gear that you’re decked out in is securely strapped on, you made haste towards a free seat at the back off the jet, unfortunately getting blocked off by Steves’ broad and muscular form. You huffed and quickly side stepped him, proceeding to sit.

“No matter how much you nag, they’re still gonna tag along, dude. May as well give up before you’re driven mad.” Clint commented, eliciting a soft giggle from Wanda and a snicker from Tony, both trying desperately to cover their amusement up in any way available to them.

“He has a point. Maybe instead of butting heads, you could help her through this mission.” Bucky spoke directly to his friend.

“Or they could actually listen and not go.” Steve narrowed his eyes towards your ignorant and slouched form, folding his arms across his chest. Tony rolled his eyes before making his way through the jet to pilot it.

“Okay losers, can we all quieten down now. Daddy’s got a jet to fly.” And with that, Tony had the jet off the platform and heading to your destination. Steve huffed and sat opposite you next to Bucky. He stared you down whilst you continuously ignored him through the whole flight.

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“What the hell, Steve?! I had it handled!” You yelled at your fellow Avenger as you all boarded the jet, ready to head back to the compound.

“Didn’t look like it!” Steve had replied, matching your volume.

You scoffed and threw your arms up into the arm in exasperation. “You have a seriously fucked up hero complex, you know that?!”

The yelling match continued between you both throughout most of the flight. By this point, the others within the small confides of the jet had pounding migraines and are in need of about 20 Advils each.

As soon as the jet landed back within the grounds of the compound, you both stormed out of the jet, heading to your separate rooms, both slamming them shut as loudly as possible, hoping the other would hear and convey how pissed you were.

“Ah, young love.” Tony quipped as his suit disassembled from around his form.

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It had been a full week of you ignoring Steve. He had tried previously throughout the week, but you blanked him, simply as if he hadn’t existed. He knew he seriously messed up the second enemy after enemy headed towards you. He knew you could have easily defended yourself and have taken them out even easier but, you were right. He does have a fucked up hero complex.

But mostly, he always felt the need to protect you. Falling in love with a completely independent and able Avenger is a tough gig. Apparently.

Steve had had enough and decided he was going to talk to you, whether you wanted to or not. He marched with determination straight to your room and knocked brashly. He heard you groan from the opposite side of the door before the light patter of your feet pad along the floor. You swung the door open widely with a look of annoyance across your face, but it had quickly faltered as you tried to close the door just as hastily. He jammed his foot between the door and its frame.

“Leave me alone Steve.” He could easily detect the irritation and impatience within your voice. He pushed the rest of the way into your room and you groaned loudly once again. “You clearly don’t understand English, should I try Spanish? German? Ukrainian? Mandarin?”

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed and you don’t want to see me. Well tough shit.” He stepped closer to you as you stood your ground. “We need to talk whether you like it or not.”

“Oh yeah? And what do we need to talk about exactly?”

Steve inhaled deeply before continuing. “About how you’re acting. You can’t act like a stroppy teenager whenever someone gives you a helping hand during a mission.”

You scoff, unbelieving of what he is saying. “That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was undermining myself as an abled agent and my abilities to handle the enemy. That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was throwing me to the side while you did all the work.” Your shoulders heaved up and down as your breathing became heavier the more anger filled you.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I was trying to help! I led the mission that day and it’s my responsibility if any of you screw up. All I did was ensure none of you did.” Steves’ voice raised to match yours.

“NO! You ensured I didn’t screw up because “I’M NOT READY!”” At some point you had started to pace around the room in an attempt to calm you.

Steve ran his hand down his face as he groaned loudly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, willing himself to calm himself down also. “I just care about you Y/N/N. Please, why can’t you just understand that.”

“Well, you should go care about someone else. I didn’t see you hounding Starks’ ass about being careful.”

“Jesus H Christ, I’m in love with you, alright?!” Steve had exclaimed loudly in exasperation. You froze on the spot and slowly turned, shock evident across your face.

“Wha-what?” You stuttered out in a quiet whisper. Steve registered what had just slipped passed his lips and opened and closed his mouth, attempting to come up with some form of excuse for what he had said. “What did you just say Steve?” You spoke, your voice raised, pronunciation clear.

Steve sighed and looked down before tilting his head in the slightest to gaze into your eyes as he spoke sheepishly. “I said I’m in love with you, I love you.” He searched your face for the slightest inkling of reciprocation in the mix of a million emotions displayed across it. It had been a good minute or so of silence as you comprehended what he had just told you. He began to feel self-conscious and paranoia presented itself within him deeply. “Please say something.” He pleaded, his voice quiet.

This seemed to have snapped you out of whatever trance had engulfed you and you swallowed thickly as you looked up at him with wide eyes. You willed yourself to be brave as if you were back out in the field. You charged forward and crashed your lips to his, the move bolder than what you were used to doing.

You grasp on to him tightly, afraid he would pull away, although, you knew that was not going to be the case for he instantaneously reciprocated the intimate action with as much gusto and desperation. His larger hands came to hold on to your hips, knuckles turning white from how tightly his hands balled up your shirt.

Sooner than you had liked, you both parted and laid your foreheads against the others as you panted, desperate for any intake of oxygen. “I love you too, Steve.” You whispered breathlessly, looking up into his beautiful, blue orbs. They had even seemed to have an extra shine in this moment as you gazed deeply into them.

He smiled a huffed out a small chuckle, his thumb rubbing up and down against your side in a soothing and loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy.”

You both continued to stand there for what felt like hours when in actuality, was only a minute or so. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door echoed throughout the room before opening and revealing Sam and Bucky on the other side. “Hey, you guys comin-oh, damn, our bad. We’ll uh, leave you to it.” And with that, Sam quickly turned and shoved Bucky out along with him as he closed the door behind them.

“I think you owe me 20 bucks.” You heard Bucky’s voice through the door which had muffled the sound slightly.

“Man, I was sure they’d go another week before one of ‘em confessed.” You heard Sam whine as you presumed while he fished out the bills from his pocket to hand over to his apparent betting partner.

Their interaction had caused both you and Steve let out a small bout of laugh before turning your attention back towards one another. “I guess we should head down for food, huh?” Steve suggested whilst he had a boyish grin etched upon his face.

All you could do was mirror his smile and release a near inaudible ‘yes’ as you nod and step back, taking his larger hand into one of your own. He quickly pulled you towards him to lay a final pure, sweet, gentle kiss upon your plump lips. “Let’s go.”

He led you out of your room and towards the elevator, ready to join the others for food. As you stood in the elevator, you felt Steves’ gaze on you. You turned you head and sent him a wolfish smirk. “Bet you 20 bucks that they told everyone.”

Steve threw his head back in laughter as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer into his side. “You’re on.”

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Those pants are nice, yeah, just the pants, definitely just the pants I’m admiring, nothing else... *definitely is looking square at his ass* ...yeah man, nice pants...

_______________

I did a Steve fic, noice

I’ve been super sucky with fics recently but I mean, college stuff, losing family, this, plus messing my knee up badly yesterday after accidently yeeting myself down some stairs, it be like that

I really hope you enjoy this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

#steve rogers #steve rogers x #steve rogers x reader #x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader #the avengers #avengers x #avengers x reader #fluff #marvel fluff #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #captain america #captain america x #captain america x reader

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the-void-i-scream-into · 4 years ago

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unpopular kdrama opinion!! thank you @prodmina for the tag!

True Beauty was painful to watch. I liked the concept of True Beauty, and I used to love the webtoon, but I mostly skipped through the drama, mainly because I knew that Seojun would get hurt and it just made it painful to watch. Also there is no way I can believe that Moon Gawon, gorgeous as she is, would ever be hated for her looks. Even though they did a pretty good job making her bare face look like a normal acne prone teen’s face.

Speaking of which, I am super sick and tired of these gorgeous, skinny af women playing “plain looking” or even “ugly” girls. I 👏AM 👏 NOT 👏 BUYING 👏 THAT 👏 SHIT 👏. Give me a normal looking girl for once! Please!

I couldn’t finish She Was Pretty. Again, it had a very, very, VERY, awesome concept. But then Siwon stole the show and my heart and I died when he didn’t get the girl. I still cry over this.

Also, I LOATHE SECOND LEAD SYNDROME! Give the second leads a happy ending tooooo!! IT SHOULD BE THE LAW

I disliked The King: Eternal Monarch. The plot was so inconsistent and there were so many “convenient” outcomes and did anyone feel chemistry between the leads? Because I didn’t. Also, the title is so cool. But like... how does it fit into the plot? Was Lee Minho immortal (lemme know because I only watched a few episodes before I couldn’t continue).

My Name is Kim Sam Soon is the best show ever! (This is going to date me, because only the really old kdrama watchers will know this show.) This was Hyun Bin’s debut drama I believe. And let me be the first to admit that this drama has A LOT of problems. But I think its the only drama where the female lead was truly relateable to me. Like ever maybe? Anyway, no one ever seems to agree with me on this but I really loved that show.

I never got into Strong Woman Bong Soon. I don’t dislike it. I just think I’m not the target demographic for it. Goblin too. I really enjoyed the comedy between Kim Shin and the Grim Reaper, but that was the only thing I liked.

I get very uncomfortable with the pairing of old actors with very young actresses. I really, really, REALLY, hate this norm. Like 4-5 years difference I get but how can you pair two people with a decade of difference? Take Goblin for example. Gong Yoo is 41 and Kim Go Eun is 29. And worse, the reverse is very rare to happen. I’ve only seen a handful of dramas with older women and younger boys and its upsetting to see this bias. Especially when you realize that there are actresses of a similar age who are really talented but don’t get the roles because look “old”.

I loved Its Okay to Not be Okay, its a special drama for me, but I just couldn’t buy the whole twist near the end about Go Moon Young’s mother. It was too unbelievable. Also, while, again, I loved the drama, I was very much uncomfortable when Moon Young tricked the Kang Tae into staying with her by manipulating his brother (who is autistic and therefore cannot make fully informed decisions by himself). That didn’t sit well with me for some reason. I didn’t like seeing a mentally challenged person be taken advantage of. :( But that’s the only gripe I have.

I also don’t see the point of this kdrama trope where the two leads meet and fall in love but we later learn that they had met as kids and were destined to be together all along. Like, why do they need to have a childhood connection? WHY? I don’t hate it, I just find it unecessary.

I am biased towards Park Yoona. I don’t care if she plays the shittiest character ever created, I will still love that character and her. Fight me on this if you want. You will lose.

Boys Over Flowers is a right of passage, okay? Just fast forward through it but ya’ll must see this drama for its sheer campiness and over the top storyline. Because this drama has everything; every kdrama trope you can possibly imagine. (I’ll make a separate post about that later.)

I think most of the people I know are already tagged so if anyone wants to join in please do. I hope no one’s feelings were hurt by this. All feelings are valid, okay? Even if a drama is trash, if you love it, you love it and I will always respect that. ❤️

#unpopular kdrama opinions

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thecleverdame · 5 years ago

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This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Two

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta: ilikaicalie

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

“What is wrong with you?” Dean watches his brother with a skeptical eye. “You’re this worked up about some girl you met in a field?”

“It’s more than that.” Sam looks around, ensuring they’re alone. “She’s an Omega,” he whispers.

“What?” Dean scoffs, then chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“I swear to you.” Sam is earnest, breathing fast and sweating as he looks Dean head-on. “I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.”

“You’re serious…” Dean inspects his brother. “How do you know?”

“Because I could feel her. Like how the air is alive when there’s lightning in the sky. And her scent was incomparable. No Beta has ever come close. And when I touched her, it was-”

“Touched her?” Dean smirks, then whistles. “Things progressed quickly I see.”

“You had to be there to understand, the attraction was consuming.”

“It must have been for you, a crown prince, to fuck some servant girl in the middle of a field.”

“My God.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I didn’t take her dignity there in the dirt. We just...touched.”

“I don’t need to hear any more details.” Dean raises both hands in caution. He shakes his head and pours them both a drink. “How can you be sure she was really an Omega? We’ve never met one before.”

“If you had smelled her, felt her, you’d know. She was breathtaking. I have to find her, Dean.”

“I can’t believe you let her run off.”

“She was out of sight before I could get to my horse and give chase.”

“Why would she run?”

“Any number of reasons.” Sam has given this a lot of thought. “Perhaps I was too forward. She seemed scared of something.”

“Well, any Omega tucked away in some country home is quite the secret. How old would you say she was?”

“I can’t be sure. Twenty-five, maybe older, perhaps younger.”

“Twenty-five? How the hell has she managed to keep herself hidden for that long?”

Omegas are sought after, snatched up by powerful, wealthy Alphas as soon as they come of age. While Dean has never met one, he’s heard the stories. It’s unbelievable that an Omega would make it past her fifteenth birthday without being claimed, forget twenty-five.

It would, however, make you a perfect match for his brother. Sam has just turned thirty-five and the older he gets the more he suffers. Alphas are meant to pair off, and he should have chosen a Beta long ago. He almost did, several times but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the final commitment. As he’s aged his ruts have grown more intense. If he doesn’t mate soon he’ll begin the descent into something darker, more feral. A primordial throwback to their ancestors and their parents will never allow that. The pressure has been on for some time for Sam to find a wife.

And you, well, once discovered you wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. All Omegas end up as mates to royalty or someone with powerful connections. Out of the options you might have, Sam is the best-case scenario. That goes without saying.

“I hate to say this, but has it occurred to you that someone has been keeping her? A duke or baron has been using her for their own. It could be the reason she ran.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s stomach goes tight at the very thought of someone else touching you, hurting you. He can still see your face, those shining eyes, and shy smile. There was an inherent innocence to you, the way you responded to his touch, the way you looked at him.

“I know she was terrified of being in trouble. She said she needed to get home before someone returned.”

“Well, let’s go find her.” Dean shrugs, tipping back the final vestiges of his drink. “We’ll start at the tree where you met her and search all the houses in the area. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”

Dean’s plan was a good one, with one exception; Sam can’t find his way back to the spot where he met you.

His rut is days away but in preparation he often goes for long rides to clear his head, leaving at dawn and not returning until after the sun has set. He rode for hours and hours that day, taking every side trail and galloping across meadows. He only stopped when he came across the willow tree because he was starving and needed to eat.

He found his way to you by chance and now he can’t retrace his steps for the life of him.

“Which way do you think you would have gone?” Dean asks. “Use your instincts.”

The brothers sit side by side on horseback. The trail ahead of them forks off in half a dozen directions.

“The far path to the right I think...no wait...I’m not sure.” Sam runs a hand over his face.

Being with you for such a short time only to be ripped away feels like a simmering panic. He has no idea how it’s possible that he wants someone he hardly knows with this passionate desperation, but he does.

“Maybe we should ride back from the castle. Do you remember the way you took to get home? We could backtrack.”

“I don’t think I can.” Sam balls his fist around the reigns. “I rode looking for her for an hour and then came back. I was so worked up, I don’t remember which way was which.”

“Well,” Dean nods, a hand on his hip as he thinks. “Why don’t we go home and talk to our lovely mother. She’ll be thrilled at the prospect of an Omega for you. I’m sure she’ll have a few ideas on how to find her. She always does.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Alex snips, tapping at the shell of her boiled egg.

“Nothing,” you murmur, snapping out of your daydream.

“She’s more melancholy than usual.” Claire gives you a smarmy little grin and butters her toast.

“Is there something wrong?” Naomi asks, resting both palms on the table. You shake your head no and pour hot water for her tea.

“Just a bit tired.” You force a smile.

The truth is you feel like death. The herbs you’re forced to drink have always sucked the life from you, but after that afternoon with Sam, it’s only gotten worse. Yesterday you could barely stay awake through lunch. You’re not ignorant. While you don’t know all the ins and outs of what you are, you understand the basic mechanics. Being around an Alpha has awakened something inside you that’s been fighting to get out for some time.

There’s a ring of the bell at the front door and you hurry to answer it. The courier is a young boy. He hands you a message and blows a sweet little kiss before scampering away. You bring the carefully rolled parchment to Naomi.

The royal seal gets her attention. That signature gold melted wax can only mean one thing.

“What is it?” Claire asks.

“Tell us what it says!” Alex chimes in, smacking her fists on the table.

“Shh,” Naomi hushes them as she unrolls the paper and scans the message. A wide smile blooms across her face. She looks up at her daughters with bubbling excitement. Sitting up straight, she’s unable to contain the terrifying grin across her face as she reads aloud. “King John and Queen Mary cordially invite you to a royal ball in honor of Prince Samuel. Every eligible woman in the kingdom is expected to be in attendance.”

“A ball!” Alex’s eyes light up.

“Can we pick our own dresses?” Claire asks. “I shall wear my red velvet with lace trimming.”

“Do either of you realize what this means?” Naomi hisses, slapping an open palm on the table to silence the room. “They are holding a ball in honor of the prince. They’re looking for a suitable wife. It’s about time, he should have been married off long ago. But other’s poor judgment is our good fortune. My daughters, I need you to understand, you are both excellent candidates, with your background and unmatched bloodline. You are both beautiful young women. A man of his age would certainly be happy to have either of you in his bed.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Alex claps her hands together in excitement. “Well, I shall wear just a simple skirt but put my coat with the golden flowers over it and, of course, there's always my diamond necklace, which is really rather special. I imagine a prince would appreciate understated elegance.”

“Oh my God,” Claire giggles placing a hand over her mouth.

You’re frozen, hearing the sound of chattering voices but absorbing none of it. Two opposing thoughts are swimming in your head.

You let him put his hand up your skirt under a tree in the middle of a field. Any woman with any self-respect would not have invited a stranger to touch her in such a way. You came on the ground like a whore in the streets. A Prince, a man of his social graces would never want a woman who was so willing to offer up her body to the first man that came along. Sam, a man of a certain age, who needs to marry sooner rather than later. Perhaps you were a meaningless little fling before he’s expected to settle down for good.

But there’s also the other possibility. What if he were willing to overlook your scandalous encounter because of what you are? What if he’s expecting you to attend? What if this is his way of looking for you? You can scarcely stand that thought without feeling lightheaded. You felt what he felt, the charge in the air when you were near and the wild excitement when he scented you. Perhaps this is how every Omega responds to an Alpha, you wouldn’t know, but it felt like something special.

“Every eligible woman in the kingdom?” you ask and their voices go silent. The three women stare at you and Alex bursts out laughing. “I just, I’ve never been to a ball. I would like to go.”

“You?” Claire sputters, joining her sister. “Covered in muck and soot! What would you even wear?”

“She’d leave a trail of cinders behind her,” Alex snickers.

Naomi knows the gravity of your question. She understands the power of what you are even when you don’t. Any Omega, despite her title or appearance, would certainly be the first choice for an Alpha prince. And if Sam rejected you there’s a chance the King and Queen would consider annulling the marriage of their oldest son to pair him with an Omega of childbearing age.

She wants this prize for one of her own daughters and she’ll do whatever she needs to ensure you stay as far away from the royal family as possible.

“Y/N, dear,” she offers a sad little pout and extends her hand toward you. “The invitation said all eligible women. You are far from eligible. Look at you, coated in ashes and little more than skin and bones. We wouldn’t want to disrespect such a generous offer by bringing a scraggly little thing such as you, now would we? And I certainly can’t ruin your sister's chances with the Prince. This is serious.”

She only refers to Alex and Claire as your sisters when she wants to make a point.

You nod in silent understanding, holding back tears. It’s likely you will never see your handsome Prince again and you only have yourself to blame. But he’s better off with you. You’re a broken, withering woman whose life has been coming to an end for some time. You were condemned to a lifetime of misery the day you buried your father.

For two weeks you live the hell that is preparing Alex and Claire for the ball.

All they talk of is dresses and hairstyles and what other women will be their competition for the Prince’s attention. You try to cover up your disappointment but it gets proportionally more difficult as the date approaches. The longer you’re away from Sam the more the memory of his face fades away, and the less you can remember the details of what he felt like as doubt creeps in.

By the night of the ball, you’ve convinced yourself that you made up some preposterous connection to a man who was hoping to bed a servant girl in the woods. You’ve romanticized a man’s basic urges and created reciprocity that simply cannot exist.

“How does it look?” Alex inquires, reaching for her hand mirror and holding it up.

You slide the last hairpin into place and hold up another mirror for her to inspect your work.

“Oh, it’s actually good.” She eyes herself, pursing her lips in a practiced pout. “Not bad for someone who’s hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You brace your hands together, subduing the tremors.

“I’m next!” Claire runs into the room, pushing her sister out of the chair before taking her place. “Make it quick, we need to leave soon.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can.” Your eyes are heavy. You scrubbed pots and cleaned floors all day. Naomi picked today of all days to give the house a proper cleaning from top to bottom.

“Y/N,” Claire looks at her sister and fights back a chuckle. “Would you like to go to the ball yourself?”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” You whisper. “There’s no way I could go.”

“Quite right too: everyone would laugh to see Cinderbritches at a ball.” Both girls break out in a fit of laughter and you try to focus on her hair, instead of the sorrow swelling up inside you.

“I hate it when you call me that,” you tell them softly.

“Always so sensitive.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Hurry up! I want to get there!”

Once the girls are styled and polished Naomi loads them into the carriage and returns to the kitchen to find you.

“Have you forgotten something?” you ask, wiping your forehead of sweat as you clean a pot.

“Only one thing.” She lifts her chin, mouth in a tight grimace. “Come with me.”

You follow her down into the basement, to your makeshift room amongst the clutter.

“Over here,” she moves to the corner, bending down to pick something up. Once it’s in her hand you realize what it is. A metal chain with a cuff attached to the end.

“Don’t, please,” you panic, stepping back. “I beg you, don’t chain me up.”

“I’ll take the switch to you here and now if you don’t do as I say.”

You could run or fight, but you don’t have the energy for either so you walk over to her and watch as she kneels down and locks the metal around your ankle.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. Tears stream down your face as you let emotion overtake you. “Please, it’s too tight. It hurts.”

“We both know what a sneaky thing you are. I remember what you were like as a girl.” She rubs her hands, looking satisfied.

“I can’t reach the fire from here, or my blankets in the corner. Will you hand them to me?”

“You’ll be fine for one night.” She sneers, looking at you as if the sight of you offends her very senses. “Take this time to think about what and who you are. Knowing her place is the best attribute a woman can have and you are nothing more than a mistake.”

She kicks the toe of her shoe into your stomach with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You lie on the stone, writhing in pain and sobbing in despair as the sun sets over the horizon.

You wake up to a small squeaking sound. When your eyes flutter open it’s dark. But after you adjust you’re met with the sight of a small white mouse nosing his way around your hand. There are plenty of nasty rats that chew holes in nearly everything, you hate those little beasts, but this small mouse has been coming to you in the evenings for a year now.

“Hello my friend,” you whisper, lying limp on the ground as a fresh tear slides over your temple. “At least I’m not alone tonight.”

You watch as the mouse cleans his tiny face with a pink paw, smiling softly at the sweetness of such a simple thing. If you die down here, at least someone will miss you, a rodent but it’s better than simply vanishing and leaving no trace.

“Hello?” A musical, airy voice calls out from somewhere upstairs. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Wiping your nose you gather your strength, propping yourself on one arm.

“Who’s there?” you yell back.

“Where are you?” The voice asks, getting closer. “I’m looking for Y/N.”

“I’m here.” You wait as soft footsteps descend toward the basement and a petit redheaded woman emerges from the dark with a flickering candle in her hand.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” She looks around and you move to sit as the chain rattles. Her eyes dart to the metal around your ankle. “Now, now, what do we have here?”

“Do you think you can help me?” you ask. “I think my stepmother keeps the key upstairs, in a jewelry box in her room.”

“Don’t be silly dear,” she crouches down, offering a genuine smile. “We don’t need all that.”

She snaps her fingers and sparks fly. In the same instant, the metal cuff falls open. You look at her in astonishment and she just smirks.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix.”

“What are you?”

“There are many names for what I do, but I don’t like any of them. To you, I’m Rowena, your Godmother I suppose. A sort of, fairy godmother.”

“I don’t understand.” She offers her hand to help you up.

“I’ll explain. Let’s go upstairs to the fire and warm you up.”

Rowena makes you tea and explains that she knew your mother well. They grew up together in Scotland and stayed in touch throughout the years but grew farther and farther apart as time went by.

“I thought it was time I paid you a visit. I never dreamed I’d find the daughter of Ellen and Robert Singer chained up in a dirty coal room.” She pours you another cup of special tea. She insisted you drink it and as you have, the more you perk up, energy building for the first time in a long time. “Where is the lady of the house?”

“At the ball.” You sigh, looking down at the mug in your hands. “Every woman in the Kingdom was invited. The prince is expected to find his wife tonight.”

“Why are you here?”

“Look at me,” you snort. “Sam wouldn’t want to so much as look at me in this state.”

“Sam,” she coos, eyebrows wiggling. “Do I hear a hint of familiarity?”

“We met. It was only once but he was...wonderful.” You blush, swallowing the rest of the tea.

“Well, you must get you back to your prince.” Rowena spreads her arms wide. “We can’t have you sitting here dreaming of a future. You have to go out and make things happen. Take what you want from life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at me? What would I even wear? I couldn’t even borrow a dress, they would hang off me.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” She smiles, patting your shoulder. “I know a trick or two.”

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

#sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester smut

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wincestismyguiltypleasure · 4 years ago

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Trojan War Wincest AU where Sam is a young but fierce solider in the Trojan army and Dean is a high ranking member of the Greek army. The two of them engage each other in battle one day, both instantly impressed with the other’s fighting skill and equally entranced by each other’s beauty.

The conflict only lasts a short while and has no victor because the Trojan troops are called back to the city, and the Greeks do not pursue. (Dean blames his lack of interest in chasing the Trojans back to the walls on his orders to stay put, but his men know better. They'd seen the way their leader had looked at the handsome Trojan soldier and the way he'd (flirted) toyed with him. They'd stood back, highly amused and watched as Dean taunted the young man and flashed his opponent that coy smile he always used to lure lovesick, unsuspecting beauties to his bed, knowing full well that Dean had let the boy go because he was infatuated.)

Dean denies his soldiers' accusations, of course, dramatically rolling his eyes as he tells them to hold their tongues or suffer his wrath.

But that night, as Dean lays by his campfire on the beach of Troy, all he can think about is the gorgeous, bloodthirsty solider that he’d locked swords with earlier that day. The boy’s beautiful wide eyes, a hypnotizing swirl of colors, piercing through the darkness of his thoughts and haunting Dean’s dreams.

And later on, when the Greeks finally sack the city, Dean finds himself desperately searching for his beautiful Trojan solider, praying to Zeus that the boy did not perish before he could get to him.

Iliad Wincest AU where everything is the same except Sam is Hector and Dean is Achilles. They are still fierce rivals and both accomplished warriors but they are also quite taken by one another. Like star-crossed lovers only Homer style.

They try to negotiate terms at first, but Achilles!Dean is just so arrogant and dismissive that Hector!Sam finally snaps and says, “I don’t understand your business in all of this. You don’t even fight for Greece or her people! You fight only for your own glory!”

And Dean, who loves riling the prince up, doesn't miss a beat when he scoffs, “Oh, and you don’t fight for your own glory, fair princess?” He keeps his tone soft as he spouts the insult, but somehow still manages to come across so unbelievably condescending and it makes Sam want to gut him.

Dean just smiles smugly though, because he knows that he's right. That part of Sam (even if it’s a small part) fights for honor and glory just like he does. Like every able-bodied warrior did. But Sam is stubborn and angry and he shouts in reply, “No! I fight for peace and my home!” It's a verbal slap in the face, but Sam is done playing nice. And if Dean wasn't so prideful he might have even flinched at his rival's venomous tone.

Of course, no one expects the prince to lose his cool so easily. Sam was usually so levelheaded and well natured. Which is exactly why his sudden outburst stuns everyone in the room to silence, including Dean. But still, the bullheaded warrior continues to stare Sam down. Refusing to give even an inch. The sexual tension between them so palpable and electric that they're both practically choking on it.

#Wincest #Achilles!Dean #Hector!Sam #this is what I think about on a random Saturday night lmfao #Wincest AU #I said or like choose your fighter 😂

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bamon4bamily · 4 years ago

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TVD 9x11 - Jukebox Feels (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - 2018 prison world, the Salvatore mansion. Katherine walks through the front door, dazed and confused. She must be having a nightmare, she thinks to herself; this can’t be happening, she can’t possibly be where she thinks she is. Although her intuition tells her the contrary, she gives it a shot, on the slim chance it might not be true…

KATHERINE: Hello? Anyone there? (She searches the house; as expected, it’s empty. She tries different techniques to escape the situation. Pinches herself to wake up, nothing. Taps her feet together, and with her eyes closed whispers: There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home… doesn’t work either). Maybe if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal… Yes, I need to sleep (she goes into Stefan’s room, puts on one of his pajamas and lies in his bed. Not even a minute in, and she’s off dreaming of sheep.

Cut to – Akumal, Mexico. After a beautiful moonlight dinner, Damon and Bonnie sit on the beach, admiring the full moon’s glow, and some real good tequila.

DAMON: (Randomly) Truth or dare…

BONNIE: (Laughs) Are you serious?

DAMON: I’m dead serious, come on, scaredy-cat!

BONNIE: Please! I just don’t want to humiliate you, cry-baby!

DAMON: Oh, it’s on! Brace yourself for defeat!

BONNIE: Bring it!

DAMON: One rule, no magic or psychy stuff!

BONNIE: Fine, no vamp tricks.

DAMON: Deal. Truth or dare?

BONNIE: Dare.

DAMON: I’ll start easy, (smirks) don’t want you loosing so fast. I dare you to take a shot of tequila while doing a handstand.

BONNIE: Piece of cake! (Delivers to perfection) My turn, truth or dare?

DAMON: Truth.

BONNIE: Okay, let’s settle this once and for all; do you steal from the bank when we play monopoly?

DAMON: (Grins) Not every time…

BONNIE: (Whacks him with her elbow) I knew it!

DAMON: What can I say, Bon, too much temptation. Okay, truth or dare?

BONNIE: Dare.

DAMON: I’m sensing a pattern here, but suit yourself. I dare you to go up to one of the people at the bar and tell them, in a very low and creepy voice, I see dead people…

BONNIE: I’m gonna get you back for this one! (Although hesitant, she delivers; freaking the hell out of the poor soul unfortunate to be approached by her. They go back to their spot) Okay, Mr. smarty pants. My turn, truth or dare… and you better choose dare!

DAMON: Dare… I say truth!

BONNIE: I’ll break you, eventually. What is the most embarrassing thing in your room?

DAMON: Oh, you’re going there! You already know the answer…

BONNIE: I do, but I want to hear you say it.

DAMON: Fine, my unicorn onesies.

BONNIE: With a butt crack… can’t forget the butt crack (she laughs)!

DAMON: They’re cozy! Okay, missy, shit just got real! Truth or dare…

BONNIE: I’m going with truth; just cause I know you’ll make me do some crazy shit after that one.

DAMON: (With a wicked grin, rubbing his hands) Excellent… What is your guilty pleasure?

BONNIE: Oh, come on! You know that…

DAMON: I do, but I also want to hear you say it, so, go on…

BONNIE: Fine… occasionally I like to dress up like Whitney Houston in the Queen of the Night video from the Bodyguard, and perform in front of the mirror…

DAMON: Occasionally? More like every other Sunday... and it’s HOT AF!

BONNIE: Can’t believe you caught me doing that!

DAMON: One of my fondest prison world memories! I have to hand it to you, Bon, you really got creative with the costume.

BONNIE: I’ve perfected it since then… Well, there, I said it! Happy now?

DAMON: Never been happier… (leans in to kiss her) and you are, beyond a doubt, the queen of the night…

BONNIE: Don’t think for a second that’s gonna get you out of what’s coming…Truth or dare?

DAMON: I’m a mix it up and go with dare.

BONNIE: (With a wicked grin, rubbing her hands) Been waiting for that since we started.

DAMON: I’m instantly regretting my decision.

BONNIE: (Laughs) Oh, and you should! You’re in trouble now… Mr. Damon Salvatore, your mission, which you have no choice but to accept, is to (she opens a portal to their room, goes and comes back).

DAMON: Hey, we said no tricks!

BONNIE: You said no magic, no psychic stuff, but you never mentioned teleporting, so suck it! Here (hands him one of her outfits and her make-up kit) Put this on, make-up and all. Once you are ready, and looking gorge, you are going to perform Queen of the Night to the guests at the beach bar. Good luck, doll! (Laughs hysterically).

DAMON: Oh, Bon-Bon… when you least expected, I’ll get you back.

BONNIE: (Mocking) I’m sure you will; but for now, come on, dancing queen, your audience awaits. (Damon performs, surprisingly well, or at least good enough to receive and applause from his audience, who, although very confused, found the show quite entertaining. They go back to their spot). You did great, almost nailed the choreography.

DAMON: Well, I learned from the best.

BONNIE: I think it’s safe to say I won this little game.

DAMON: This time around…

BONNIE: How bout you get out of those clothes, I get out of mine, and we go for a night swim?

DAMON: Don’t have to ask me twice! (As he is taking the high heels off) How do you guys walk in these things??

BONNIE: You get used to it, (teasing) just don’t get too used to it... Ready, my night queen?

DAMON: (Carries her) Let’s go, witchy! (They swim under the moonlight; then make love till sunrise).

Cut to - The secret facility, Edward’s cell. He has been sleeping for quite some time. He slowly begins to wake; as he opens his eyes, he sees someone lying on the floor under a pool of blood, right next to his bed. He jumps up in a scare.

AUGUSTUS: Oh, don’t be alarmed, son, it’s not me, I’m doing just fine. Meet your uncle Pete; granted it might not be the best introduction, but hey, you wanted to meet your family… well, there you go.

EDWARD: (Disgusted and in shock) What is this!!??

AUGUSTUS: It’s a dead body, son. And, from what I hear they start to smell pretty bad once they decompose; so, I suggest you move fast and bring your cousin Matty back. Feel free to use our tech if it helps, Eddie here (points to the strange man that has been standing outside his cell everyday) is more than happy to help.

EDWARD: (Crying in despair, looking at the corpse) Oh god, oh, god!!! (To his father) You are fucking insane!!!

AUGUSTUS: Language, boy! I taught you better manners than that… guess I should have never left you in Tamara’s care; what a waste of an ivy-league education. My fault for bringing in the trash. Oh, well… time is ticking, and that body is stinking… Ha, that rhymed, maybe I should pick up poetry? I always did love Literature… Anyway, (belittling) Mayor Powell, let’s see just how smart and powerful you really are. Rest assured, if you get the job done, I promise I will make it worth your while (he leaves; Edward can’t stop crying, imagining Matt’s pain).

Cut to - Munich, Germany. Sam, Elena, Sage, and Alex, are having some drinks, after their first days of the program.

SAGE: I knew this program was going to be out of the ordinary, but it’s totally blowing my mind!

ELENA: I agree, it’s amazing! The equipment we have access to is unbelievable! Never knew those types of tools and tech even existed.

SAM: (Putting his drink up for a cheer) Here’s to an unorthodox quality education, and to new awakenings!

ALL: Cheers! (They drink, share some laughs and anecdotes; at some point, the boys get into their own conversation in another area of the bar. Elena and Sage have no option but to interact more closely).

ELENA: Listen, I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.

SAGE: I’m sorry for being one. (Holds her hand out for a handshake) Do-over?

ELENA: Do-over (shakes her hand). So, tell me, why are you so obsessed with Pietro? Not judging, just curious.

SAGE: I know a lot of people think he is just an entitled jerk, but he is so far from that. I mean, yes, he is arrogant and pretentious, but when you’ve accomplished what he has, you kind of earn the right to be.

ELENA: Still don’t get it, what has he accomplished? He’s not even a Doctor…

SAGE: He owns the world’s most groundbreaking technology companies. Ai, IoT, nanotech, you name it, he is behind it. He might not be the science side of the operation, but he is the business side that makes it possible. Just between us, I’m pretty sure he is a vampire. Get this, while I was doing research on his background, I stumbled upon some pretty crazy documentation that dates his birth back to 1865. It’s either that, or he stole some real old dead guy’s identity.

ELENA: That is definitely not a coincidence… Do the names Stefan and Damon Salvatore ring a bell?

SAGE: Never heard of them, who are they?

ELENA: Besides my ex-boyfriends, I think they might be Pietro’s half-brothers.

SAGE: (Laughs) That’s impossible…

ELENA: Put two and two together…

SAGE: Oh, they’re also…? OMG! So, you slept with two vampires, and they were brothers??!! I totally miss read you, you’re a badass!! I love it!! (Holds her drink up) Cheers for that!

ELENA: Well, the brothers thing is something I’m really not proud of. I was young and gave in to my darkest desires; but I guess karma got me served, because they both fell in love with my best friends; so…

SAGE: Hey, nothing to be ashamed of; more power to you! I mean, it’s okay when men do it, but as woman we get shamed for it… Fuck that shit!

ELENA: Good point... (holds her glass up for a cheer) Here’s to woman equality!

SAGE: Fuck yeah! So, tell me, how did you end up getting involved with vampires?

ELENA: It’s a long and complicated story… Let’s just say I look exactly like someone they were once very obsessed with, and it grew from there.

SAGE: Who did you go out with first?

ELENA: Stefan… my first true love; but then I fell for the bad boy, who just happened to be his brother. Like I said, not proud, but that’s how it went down.

SAGE: Was it serious?

ELENA: Very. With Stefan I could see my entire future; it was like a fairytale love. With Damon, I lived for the moment and was consumed with passion.

SAGE: Sounds like you were quite in a predicament.

ELENA: I was, for a while; but I ended up choosing Damon.

SAGE: So, what happened? Why did you two split?

ELENA: There were many reasons, but every time I go back to it, I think it’s because we got off to a wrong start. When I became a vampire, I was sired to him… not the best way to start a relationship.

SAGE: Wait, you are a vampire!!? Are you kidding me?!! This story keeps getting better and better!

ELENA: No, no! I’m not one anymore, but I was.

SAGE: Oh, okay, you freaked me out there for a sec! Anyway, then, what happened? Spill!!

ELENA: Well, a whole bunch of crazy stuff... then I took a cure, became human again, only to be put into a three-year sleeping spell, then I woke up. At first it was bliss, but then, once we moved in together our deeper problems began to surface…

SAGE: Did those problems have to do with him falling for one of your best friends?

ELENA: Not expressively… but in part, yes. I knew he was in love with her, and that there was nothing I could do to change that.

SAGE: Ouch, that’s gotta hurt.

ELENA: I mean, he never cheated or anything like that, they didn’t even get together until recently, but just knowing he would never love me like her, hurt for a while… then I met Sam…

SAGE: Wow, that’s quite a story!

ELENA: Straight out of a supernatural YA book, am I right?

SAGE: I’m a big fan of YA drama, and supernatural lure, so, right up my alley! Okay, let me ask you one last question. If you could go back, would you make the same choice?

ELENA: What do you mean?

SAGE: Stefan or Damon? Who would you choose?

ELENA: (Laughs) Uhm, okay, that’s a weird question…

SAGE: Oh, come on, just for fun, and keeping with the YA context.

ELENA: I’d say as a human, I would choose Stefan; as a vampire, Damon. But I guess it wouldn’t matter who I would choose, since they wouldn’t choose me a second time around, that’s for sure.

SAGE: (Teasing) Well, good news for Sam.

ELENA: Okay, I shared my stories; now it’s your turn.

SAGE: Well my stories are quite boring compared to that!

ELENA: Still, spill! It’s only fair, you have leverage on me, I should have some on you.

SAGE: Fair enough. What do you want to know?

ELENA: You and Alex, what’s the story there?

SAGE: Oh god, no! Nothing like that, he’s like a brother to me.

ELENA: Aw, that’s too bad, you two are cute together. How about you and Sam, anything ever happen between you two?

SAGE: This conversation is getting dangerous...

ELENA: Oh, come on, what’s in the past is in the past; there’s nothing dangerous about that.

SAGE: Fine, you asked for it. Long time ago, one crazy drunken night; that’s all.

ELENA: I know, he told me; just wanted to check if you would be honest with me.

SAGE: (Teasing) Now who’s the bitch!

ELENA: Sorry, trust issues. Now, for real, any past epic loves?

SAGE: Uhm, not really… I mean, I’ve had many relationships but nothing serious. I’m not the deep connection type; I just like to have fun, and I don’t like to put in the time, so short and sweet works out perfectly for me.

ELENA: Crazy hookups?

SAGE: Now that is my area of expertise! Wow, where do I start… I’ve done all the clichés, mile high club being my favorite one. But I have to say, the craziest has been with someone you actually know, (mocking) the renowned city Mayor of Mystic Falls.

ELENA: (Spits out her drink) Are you serious? You had a thing with Edward Powell? How do you even know him?!

SAGE: From NYC, our hometown. We were both part of the upper east side elite; a real Gossip Girl type thing. And let me tell you, he might seem like a Nate on the outside, but inside, he is a full-on Chuck Bass. Anyway, we went to this masquerade ball at an exclusive mansion outside the city. Long story short, we ended up covering for a murder which turned out to be anything but that; it was just a really drunk-ass Wall-Street magnate, that passed out in a tub filled with red wine. Good thing he woke up before we finished filling the whole… and that he didn’t see us having sex next to what we thought was his corpse. In our defense, we were also really drunk, and high as fuck.

ELENA: Holy shit! And you call your stories boring? Wonder what the exciting ones are like!

SAGE: (Laughs; then sees that Alex and Sam are heading back to their table) Well, that’s a conversation for another night… this has been fun, but I think our girl time is over; I’m glad we had a chance to talk like this.

ELENA: Me too, and I’m sorry I was so quick to judge you.

SAGE: Dido. Friends?

ELENA: Friends.

Cut to – Akumal, Mexico. Bonnie, Damon, Stefan and Caroline are having a nice beachfront brunch.

CAROLINE: I can’t believe this is our last day! Time went by way too fast!

BONNIE: I know, seems like we just got here.

STEFAN: How about we make a deal, right here, the four of us.

DAMON: (Teasing) Bro, we are not even done with brunch; plus, it would be way too weird…

STEFAN: Of course your mind would go there… Anyway, no, Damon, that’s not what I want to propose. How do you guys feel about spending some money and investing on a property down here? That way we can come back whenever we want.

CAROLINE: I love it, yes!!!!

BONNIE: I’m in!

STEFAN: Damon?

DAMON: Just tell me where to sign!

BONNIE: La Bruja is coming over for dinner tonight, maybe she can give us some tips on property here.

STEFAN: That be great. I’m thinking nothing too fancy, but definitely beachfront.

BONNIE: And secluded.

CAROLINE: 2 master bedrooms, 1 kids room, and two or three guestrooms for when Ty, Lexi, Matt and Alaric come visit.

DAMON: So much for “not too fancy” …

CAROLINE: I’m not saying it needs to be fancy, just spacious, there are way too many of us.

BONNIE: We’ll also need a garden, good footprint area so we can grow our own food.

CAROLINE: And a pool of course, for the girls.

STEFAN: And I think we can all agree, we need a big bar.

DAMON: And a wine cellar.

STEFAN: Maybe we’re gonna have to build it from scratch, I’m pretty sure we won’t be able to find a place that checks all of our boxes.

BONNIE: If we have someone design it for us, I’m pretty sure La Bruja and I can pull it off.

DAMON: It’s settled then, we’ll brief La Bruja over dinner and start to plan our perfect Belvafore hide-away!

STEFAN: Belvafore?

DAMON: Yes; Bennett, Salvatore, and Forbes… Belvafore!

BONNIE: (To Stefan, mocking Damon) I’m telling you, not even with his vamp back on…

CAROLINE: I like it! It’s like Steroline and Bamon!

BONNIE: Steroline and Bamon?

CAROLINE: Yes, Bamon, aka, Bonnie and Damon; isn’t it perfect?! Stefan came up with it.

STEFAN: Sorry, Bon, just a fan.

BONNIE: (Laughing) Oh, Stefan, didn’t see that one coming... And Steroline, is Stefan and Caroline...

CAROLINE: You got it! (With pride) I came up with that one!

BONNIE: (With a y’all crazy look) Okay...

DAMON: Oh, come on, Bon-Bon; Bamon, gotta love it!

BONNIE: Fine, I’ll admit it... y’all crazy but I love it!

CAROLINE: (Holds her mimosa glass up for a cheer) To Belvafore and building new traditions!

ALL: Cheers!

Cut to – The Salvatore school, Alaric’s study. Alaric, and Radka, are trying to figure out their next steps.

ALARIC: How could I have been so reckless and stupid…

RADKA: It was an honest mistake, Ric. How were you supposed to know what would happen?

ALARIC: I know how dangerous that little gadget is, it was my responsibility to keep it under lock and key. Now, thanks to me, Katherine is probably being hunted down by a psychopath.

RADKA: Katherine is strong and witty, if anyone, Kai is the one that needs to worry. I’m sure she’ll be fine; we just need to figure out how to bring her back.

ALARIC: The only one that can help with that is Bonnie, and I’m not letting her go near Kai. We need to figure out a way to do this without the need for Bennett blood.

RADKA: How about 2 werewolves, 2 vampires and a hunter… think we could pull it off?

ALARIC: The problem is not getting in, but out… there’s no way out without the right ingredients.

RADKA: Okay, I might be thinking crazy here, but we need to think outside the box. What if we ask Margo to summon a Bennett witch, she can open a temporary spirit realm and do an incarnation spell so she can be materialized; then, we go to this prison world, get Katherine and use the blood of that Bennett witch to come back…

ALARIC: That sounds insane… but it might actually work. Isn’t Margo still on sick leave?

RADKA: She’s better now, called me up this morning to let me know she’d be back tomorrow.

ALARIC: Do you think she would be up for it?

RADKA: Not sure, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.

Cut to – 2018 prison world, Stefan’s room. Katherine wakes up to find herself tied up with her mouth covered. Kai is sitting on a chair, reading. He looks quite different than expected; very clean cut and intellectual, glasses and all.

KAI: I’m sorry I had to tie you up, but I do not appreciate intruders. God, these new generations have completely lost their manners. Sneaking into other people’s homes, putting on their nightclothes, sleeping in their beds… The audacity!

(Kai gets up, walks towards one of the many jukeboxes he has installed around the house, and plays a song...)

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TVD 9x11 (part 2), coming soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

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remywrites5 · 5 years ago

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@cuddlingdeath For Lexy who has been having a bad week. I pitched this idea to her earlier today and she thought it was cute so I wrote it for her. Hope you like it!!

***

“Have you ever thought about getting a service animal?” Natasha asked with no preamble as if they were in the middle of a conversation. Natasha was Bucky’s physical therapist and had been helping him work with his new prosthetic arm. She also happened to be the closest thing Bucky had to a friend since returning from the war.

“Not really,” Bucky said with a shrug, twisting his prosthetic arm and curling the fingers of it to check the mobility. He’d only had the thing for a few days and seeing it move was still alarming. Shuri, who had designed it for him, had done an amazing job. Bucky was almost afraid of damaging it. Not that there was much call for concern now that he’d been discharged.

Nat watched him while tapping her finger against her chin pensively. “You should,” she told him. “I think it would be good for you. I know someone who trains them. I could inquire whether he has any ready for service.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Why are you pushing this?” he asked, flicking his hair out of his face. When it came to his personal life, Nat had quite a few suggestions, more than she probably should have, but she was never so pushy about them.

“When was the last time you spent a night where you weren’t alone?” she asked pointedly.

Bucky ducked his head, knowing the answer was months. His sister Becca had visited him back in around Christmas. It was already almost summer. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe it’s time to stop being so isolated, James.”

Bucky frowned. “I got to the meetings at the VA,” Bucky reminded her. He didn’t mention that he never spoke at the meetings, just listened to other people’s stories, and had never said much to the other guys there. Sam, the guy who ran the meetings was a good sort and liked to tease Bucky mercilessly.

“You need something that’s just yours,” Nat insisted, pulling her phone out and typing something quickly out. Bucky didn’t even have to ask, he knew Nat was texting her friend. “You’ve got an appointment with him tomorrow morning at 10am. If I find out you don’t go I’ll make another appointment and I’ll drag your ass down there.”

Bucky sighed and dragged his hand down his face in aggravation. He didn’t doubt Nat would do it, too. “Fine, I’ll go.”

***

Nat texted him the address that night and told him to ask for Steve. Bucky woke up the next morning and got dressed, only using his right arm. He still wasn’t used to the left one yet. Once he realized it he ate his breakfast only with his left arm, feeling guilty that Shuri had gone to so much trouble to make the arm for him, just for him to ignore it completely.

It wasn’t too long of a drive seeing as this place was also in Brooklyn. Bucky paid the cab driver and stepped out in front of a cute little brick house with matching front steps and a white door. He dragged his ass up the steps, knowing it would be much more unpleasant doing this with Nat forcing him to.

He rapped his knuckles of his right hand on the door, still not used to the strength of his left, and not wanting to bust the damn thing open accidentally. As he waited for someone to answer, he flexed the fingers on his left hand, watching the robotic limbs stretch and pull apart at his command. He felt like something out of a fucking science fiction movie with that hand. Part Terminator.

Bucky jumped slightly when the door opened, having been distracted by his new robot hand. He had to keep his jaw from dropping when he got his first good look at Steve. When Bucky had pictured Steve he had thought of maybe a middle aged man, maybe someone retired who trained dogs as something to do to stave off boredom. He was not prepared for…this.

Steve was six foot, his chest and biceps practically threatening to bust through the shirt he was wearing, his blond hair combed and his smile warm.

Bucky was going to kill Natasha the next time he saw her.

“Hi,” Steve said, stepping out onto the front stoop and closing the door behind him. “Sorry, I just got some newer dogs in and they’re not trained enough not to bolt for the door when company comes around. You must be Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said dumbly, trying his damnedest not to stare at Steve. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Steve asked, his grin widening.

“I don’t know,” Bucky responded with a shrug.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Steve assured him. He opened the door back up and ushered Bucky inside quickly. As soon as they were in a few small dogs came up and started jumping towards Bucky, their tails wagging excitedly. Off to the side a few older dogs were sitting at attention, their eyes on Bucky, but remaining still.

There was a German Shepherd that caught Bucky’s eye immediately. The dog was one of the older ones and had an air of confidence about her. But even so the dog had a sweet face. “Sorry,” Steve said with a knowing grin. “That’s Sarah and she’s my dog. Couldn’t get rid of her even if I tried.”

Steve went over and gave the dog a pat on the head. “She’s the leader of the pack,” he explained, crouching down and giving her a scratch behind the ear. “She helps me train the new recruits, keeps everyone in line.”

Bucky felt like his fucking heart was actually melting in his chest from watching Steve with the dog. A few of the other younger dogs had hurried over in hope that Steve would pay attention to them as well. Steve stood up and looked meaningfully at the young pups. “Sit,” he said, curling his hand into a fist and then bringing it up towards his chest. The puppies sat but their tails still wagged, showing their uncontrollable excitement.

Steve laughed and gave each of the puppies a treat. Bucky thought he might just fucking explode if he kept watching Steve be adorable with the dogs. Steve finished passing out the treats and then looked at Bucky. “So, who catches your eye?”

Bucky walked over and stood next to Steve. Steve gave him a few commands to give to each dog and see how they responded to him. There was an absolutely gorgeous chocolate lab with huge brown eyes that Bucky felt some kinship with. “That’s Charlie,” Steve said with a knowing smile. “He’s second in command around here after Sarah. There is one stipulation with him if you decide to take him.”

“Oh?” Bucky asked, making Charlie shake for the third time in a row. “And what’s that?”

“You have to come back and visit,” Steve said, laughing softly. “I’ve had Charlie for six years and I’d miss him terribly if he never came back. But I have a feeling you need him so I’ll let him go home with you.”

Bucky thought he could handle that.

***

Bucky absolutely loathed the smug look Nat had on her face when Bucky brought Charlie to his next PT appointment. Charlie sat patiently in the corner on a mat while Bucky did his usual movements with Nat. He was always cautious about petting Charlie with his left hand, terrified he might do it too hard and hurt the dog. Charlie seemed to catch on to this and always only positioned himself on Bucky’s right.

“So, how did it go with Steve?” Nat asked halfway through their session.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It went fine, I got the stupid dog like you asked. Nothing else happened.” He felt bad about calling Charlie stupid considering just how smart the dog was. But he mostly just wanted Nat to drop the subject.

Nat raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “Steve’s your type though, isn’t he?”

Bucky sputtered. “Why would you think that?” he asked defensively. His mind wandered back to Steve and just how often he thought about that stupidly beautiful man. It’s not like Nat was in his head though, right?

Nat laughed. “Come on James, I’ve been around you enough to notice what catches your eye.”

Bucky groaned and covered his face with his good hand. “Please Nat, tell me you didn’t send me over there just to try and set me up with Steve.”

When Bucky lowered his hand Nat was back to having that unbearable smug look on her face. “It was more of a two birds with one stone kind of situation.”

Bucky shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Nat ignored him. “So did you get his number?” she asked, grinning conspiratorially. “Because I could give it to you if you chickened out.”

“No, I got his number,” Bucky snapped at her grumpily. He didn’t bother to mention that the only reason he’d gotten Steve’s number was because Steve had offered it up gladly. It was so Bucky would make arrangements to bring Charlie by for visits.

“Good,” Nat told him, nodding her approval. “You deserve something good, James.”

Bucky smiled and tried to believe her.

***

It had been several play-dates so far (for the dogs Bucky reminded himself after having slipped up and called it that in front of Nat. The teasing had been endless) and Bucky still hadn’t gotten the courage up to do more than answer Steve when he talked. Bucky used to be so good at flirting back in high school but since returning from the war, his confidence was more or less shattered.

Although Bucky felt more comfortable around Steve than he did most people. After having gotten over the initial awkwardness of Steve being fucking beautiful they’d actually gotten along pretty well. Bucky was still an asshole and sometimes he’d say something rude or stop the conversation dead in its tracks when he didn’t like where it was going.

But Steve took it all in stride, never letting it bother him when Bucky said something rude. He’d just call Bucky a jerk fondly like the word was a term of endearment. A weaker man might have blushed from the way Steve said it.

“So Buck,” Steve said, carefully nudging his shoulder against Bucky’s. “You gonna stay for dinner?”

They were sitting on Steve’s back stoop watching the dogs play in the fenced in yard. “Depends,” Bucky said teasingly. “You gonna make something edible?”

Steve scowled at him. “I was going to make burgers on the grill, but if you’re going to be a pain, I won’t.”

Bucky grinned and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “I guess I could do dinner.”

***

They were lounging under a tree at the dog park, Charlie sitting obediently on Bucky’s right, while Sarah had made herself comfortable across Steve’s lap. They were both flushed from running with the dogs. Steve looked devastating with the apples of his cheeks tinged pink and a lazy smile playing on his lips.

“Can I tell you a secret, Buck?” Steve asked softly.

“Sure,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“I’ve been meaning to kiss you for a while now,” Steve told him, risking a glance over to see Bucky’s reaction.

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “What’s stopping you, Rogers?”

Steve’s smile widened triumphantly. “Nothing, I suppose.”

Bucky brought his hand up and cupped Steve’s cheek, surprising himself when he noticed it was his left hand. But Steve didn’t seem to mind it. “Go on then,” Bucky challenged tauntingly.

Steve’s lips were soft when he finally rose to the challenge, his mouth warm and his tongue red hot as it slid against Bucky’s. The kiss was sweet and so damn affectionate and better than anything Bucky’s ever had in his entire miserable life. And Steve better of been planning to keep Bucky because he was pretty sure he was ruined for anyone else for the rest of his life.

He managed to jokingly tell Steve as much and the grin he got in return was so fucking open and earnest that he wanted to make fun but couldn’t. Instead he just kissed Steve some more because he was allowed to and it was perfect.

He knew he was going to owe Nat one hell of a thank you. Maybe Steve could help him come up with something that didn’t sound sarcastic.

#Stucky #I write things #fluff #cuddlingdeath #steve rogers x bucky barnes #Modern Setting #unprompted #long post

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saltandburnbabyy · 5 years ago

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Whiskey and Adele - part 1

PAIRING: Team Free Will 2.0 x Reader

RELATIONSHIP: Platonic

AGE: your choice

SUMMARY: When Sam, Dean, and Castiel leave you alone with Jack in the bunker for a few days, you decide to make the most of having the bunker free and have fun with Jack...the funny thing is you and Jack have very different definitions of fun.

WARNINGS: just a bit of swearing, drinking, that’s about it

A/N: I do not own Supernatural or any of its beautiful characters.

It was 5:30am and all that mattered to you was the cup of coffee sitting snug in between your hands. You stared down at the coffee, completely unaware of the excitement that was taking place around you. Why the hell was everyone up so goddamn early? You were never a heavy sleeper, thanks to being raised in the life, so when the rushed footsteps of Sam, Dean, and Castiel paced outside of your bedroom door for almost an hour you knew something was wrong.

Taking a sip of your coffee, the steam swirling in front of your face, you sighed in relief as you felt the hot, bitter liquid travel down your throat. You were so invested in your coffee that you didn't notice Sam watching you from the kitchen counter, shoving food in his backpack. His green eyes held a hint of humor as he watched you drink your boiling coffee with your eyes barely open.

"(Y/N), you didn't have to get up, we would've left you a note," Sam explained as he zipped up his backpack, the last granola bar finally packed away. He left the bag on the counter as he walked over to the table and took a seat across from you. You placed the chipped mug on the table in front of you and turned to Sam, slightly irritated.

"Trust me, I'd be sleeping like the dead right now if it wasn't for all the ruckus outside of my door. Also, it sounded kind of urgent so I figured I'd drag my ass out of bed and see if you guys needed any help with anything.”

At that moment Dean sped into the kitchen in a slight panic. His gaze tore across the kitchen as if searching for something, "Has anyone seen my-aha! There you are." He walked over to another counter located in the kitchen and snatched his gun up. Lifting up the back of his shirt, he slid the gun into the back of his jeans and finally gave you and Sam some attention. Especially you.

"Well you look like crap on a stick," Dean commented to you as he took a seat next to Sam. All you did in return was give him a death glare, one you honestly though could burn a hole through his head. Sam noticed your frustration and shot Dean his signature bitch face, "you're an idiot."

You brought the cup to your lips to take another sip of your coffee as you heard Sam's comment. That caused your heart to swell in your chest a little bit and a smile to form on your lips. It was moments like these, stupid and mundane moments, that reminded you why you loved the Winchesters so much. They were the only family you had left in this world, related or not, as well as Castiel. Then when Jack came into the picture you had no problem welcoming him into this dysfunctional family with open arms. Those four men were the light of your life, and considering the line of work you were all in you learned very quickly to appreciate the simple things in life, like the boys’ bickering.

They were still lightly bickering between themselves as Castiel walked in. He looked over to you in genuine surprise. "(Y/N)? I assumed you would be sleeping."

You turned in your chair to face him and smiled, "Do you know what happens when you assume Cas?"

He simply stared down at you in utter confusion, "I don't quite understand what you are referring to. Is this some type of riddle?" Castiel sighed and occupied the last seat at the table. "I never know with you nowadays."

You giggled in response, brushing off your stupid joke, as you stood up and went to go place your empty coffee mug in the sink. Turning to the trio you started to express your slight concern.

"Is this another hunt? I mean, what else can it be?" You crossed your arms over your chest and studied the three men.

"It's a hunt," Dean explained, "but you ain't going. Not this time."

At that, you grew annoyed. Sam probably picked up on your feelings, he always does, and attempted to explain everything is a softer manner.

"It'll only be for a day or two. Three days max. I promise." He offered a sympathetic smile knowing fully well how pissed you were starting to become. They were going on a hunt without you? Out of all the things they could pull this was the shittiest. Your arms were still crossed as you narrowed your eyes at the three men sitting in front you.

Unbelievable.

"This is unfair and you guys know it," you expressed, "I should be going on a hunt with you guys. Not stuck here in the damn bunker. If this is about Jack being alone-"

Castiel stood up to walk over to you, and placed a firm yet reassuring hand on your shoulder, "(Y/N), we are just simply unsure of what kind of creature we'd be hunting. All we want is for you and Jack to be out of harm's way." Dean stood up and took a spot next to Castiel, "and if that means leaving you both behind here in the bunker than that's what's going to happen." You gave them all pointed looks before sighing in defeat. There really was no use fighting them on this and you really needed another cup of coffee. "Well I still think this is a crappy idea," you huffed, "who's going to save your asses this time around?"

With a chuckle, Dean pulled you into his side and planted a small kiss on top of your head. You were shocked by the sudden affection but wasn't complaining in the slightest. He smelled like gunpowder and the cheap, cologne smelling soap he always used. Your frown slowly disappeared as you looked up at him, "what was that for?"

Dean didn't directly answer you as he began walking out of the kitchen, "see you in a few days kiddo." Castiel offered a small, reassuring smile before following close behind the oldest Winchester.

Sam, with his bag full of food slung over his shoulder, walked over to you and embraced you in a big hug. This caused a laugh to bubble up from inside you as you were reminded yet again just how much he towered over you. His long arms wrapped around your small frame and hugged you tight. You returned the embrace with a quick squeeze around his middle before releasing him, "All three of you better come back alive and in one piece. If not, you better believe I'll bring you back and kick the crap out of all of you."

Sam laughed and gave you a small nod, "you got it." With that, he walked out of the kitchen and within a minute the sound of the bunker door closing echoed throughout the halls.

You stood there, the feeling of serenity lingering in the room. You had no doubts that whatever the boys were hunting would be a walk in the park for them, but there was always that small part of you that worried. There would always be that part of you that worried. Being a hunter wasn't a walk in the park and you were never guaranteed to see tomorrow. You shook your head, shaking off the feeling of uncertainty, and headed back to your room to get a few more hours of sleep.

It was now 5pm, and you sat at a table with another cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. Jack had finally made an appearance from his room and sat across from you, looking bored out of his mind. "So, what should we do while Castiel, Sam, and Dean are away?"

You glanced up from your book, it was on zombies and it wasn't holding your interest in the slightest, and sighed softly, "I'm not sure. We really shouldn't travel anywhere and Dean only left $300 in case of an emergency." Jack sat up in his chair, "What exactly would be considered an emergency?"

"Well," you closed the book and pushed it to the side, "Food. In case we get attacked, have to go on the run, and change our identities. Now there's a pricey experience." You chuckled to yourself, glancing down at your book, but noticed the thick beat of silence before he spoke up.

"Who would attack us though?" Jack's words were laced with worry.

You slowly looked up with a confused yet apologetic expression, "It was just a joke, Jack."

"Oh."

You noticed he suddenly took on a serious demeanor and you turned in your seat to fully face the young Nephilim. "Listen, Jack, I'm sure everything is perfectly fine. I was just being an idiot. It's only a few days. Besides, you have me. Not to toot my own horn, but I can be a hell of lot more fun than Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3." You watch Jack's lip twitch with a small smile. You smiled yourself, think back to when you introduced The Cat in the Hat to Jack.

That was a very interesting day, to say the least.

You stood up, stretched your arms, and groaned lazily. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to jump in the shower. How about we watch a movie when I'm done. You can pick it out if you want."

You've never seen Jack smile so wide before, which only caused you to laugh. He pondered over something for a minute which caused you to study him in amusement. He finally stood up as if the chair he was sitting in was on fire.

"I think I know the perfect movie that we can watch."

You didn't even get the chance to ask him what he had in mind before he took off down the hall. You heard his sneakers squeak with every step. Standing there in mild shock, you simply smiled in content and made your way to your room.

Before you knew it you were showered and made your way to Jack's room. The sound of your bare feet against the wooden floor barely made a sound as you approached his room, his door ajar.

You pushed the door open without bothering to knock, "Hey Jack, let's get this show on the-"

The scene that you were met with was one you didn't think you'd ever see in your lifetime. "Holy crap," you muttered to yourself.

Jack was spinning in the middle of the room, his arms outstretched with a glass bottle in his right hand. The contents of the bottle swished around as he continued to spin around. You were completely frozen in your spot as you took in the scene in front of you. Empty bottles of alcohol, what kind you weren't sure, were lined up neatly on the floor near Jack. There were at least 10 bottles in that neat cluster. The one in Jack's hand looked half empty. There was a movie playing on his television. It looked like one of Dean's old western movies. Clint Eastwood? Who knows.

Oh no.

Dean.

Alcohol.

"Jack," you pleaded, taking small steps towards him, "please don't tell me you took these bottles from Dean's room."

Dean had a secret stash of his favorite whiskey in his room and not one soul was allowed to touch it.

He stopped spinning at the sound of your voice, barely being able to stop himself in a calm manner. The alcohol in his hand sloshed around, more of it spilling from the bottle. His eyes widened from excitement as he ran towards you and tackled you in a hug. You winced as the hug grew tighter and tighter, Jack forgetting his strength. He smelled of whiskey. Yep, definitely whiskey. You didn't even realize Jack could get drunk.

"Jack," you wheezed, "dude you're crushing me." You tried to wiggle out of his embrace, hoping he'd get the message. Usually, you didn't mind the smell of whiskey, considering that's the third choice of beverage in the bunker behind coffee and beer, but the smell was giving you a small headache. Jack finally let go and pushed the bottle in his hand towards you. Glancing down at the bottle, you gingerly took it from him and held it to your chest.

"Um Jack, buddy, what the hell is going on?"

"I went looking for, uh, some, uh, movies! Yeah, movies. I found some in Dean's room. He has so many movies in his room, did you know that? He also has a hidden picture of him, you, Sam, Cas, and me in his drawer but doesn't tell him I told you that. I know secrets are really bad, but I don't want him to get mad at me."

Jack stared down at you and pointed to the bottle, "I also found something much better than a movie. I read somewhere that alcohol consumption is considered fun."

"What?!" Despite your panicked expression, Jack seemed to have no care in the world.

They were going to kill you. Big time.

part 2

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living-dead-parker · 6 years ago

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Hallmark, Hot Chocolate, and Halls - P.P

Summary: Y/N is sick, Tony’s tired. Good thing there’s Peter.

Warnings: idk if there’s cussing, there might be. This is really a call out post about me bc this is 100% me last night and today bc im sick. Also probably some mistakes.

On and unrelated note, I voted for the first time today which was cool

Word Count: 1.3k

(Not my gif)

"Mr. Star-"

"Get over here, kid. Now, please." Tony cuts off Peter as the younger man rounds the corner into the living room of the Avengers Tower. Peter notices a frazzled Tony attempting to stand up and a sickly looking Y/N attached to the man, not letting go. Her arms are wrapped around his waist as she holds onto him, clinging for dear life. Peter's eyes go wide, brows furrowed in pure confusion. "Help me." Tony begs, finally standing up, taking Y/N with him.

"W-What happened?" Peter asks as he steps closer. Peter notices the Hallmark channel playing on TV, tons of tissue littering the coffee table and the couch, the bottles of DayQuil and NyQuil. He also notices the mass of blankets and pillows, the movie DVD boxes, bottles of water and juices. The living room looks a mess and Tony does too.

"Y/N is sick." Tony responds in a smartass tone. Peter rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, but...what is all of this, why isn't she letting you go?" Peter asks as he steps closer, picking up some of the mess with a clean napkin on the table. Tony sighs, prying the young woman's arms off of him.

"Y/N doesn't get sick often, so when she does, it's bad," Tony begins, pointing to the young woman who lies in a fetal position on the couch. Peter giggles, looking over at his girlfriend. She sits up, looking over at Peter with her puppy dog eyes. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today, so can you stay with her for today? I took care of her all last night, so I need to spend some time making myself look presentable." Tony says, earning a nod from Peter. Tony rests a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving the young man a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

As Tony walks away, Peter turns and notices the small bucket by the couch, a small jar of VapoRub, some TheraFlu packets and a few other medicinal items. Turning back around, he sees Y/N throwing her arms up for a hug, and how could Peter say no? Sitting down, he pulls the young woman in closer to his side, moving to press a kiss on her cheek. However, he feels a soft and extremely warm hand move in front of his face to stop him.

"Peter, don't kiss me, okay. I don't wanna get you sick." Y/N warns. Peter shakes his head, leaving a chaste peck on his cheek. Turning in his seat, he looks over at you and smiles down at you.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?" Peter asks. Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around the young man's waist. Peter's hands go down to her hair, messing with the h/c strands of hair that messily lay atop her head.

For the rest of the day, the two just sat down watching crappy Hallmark movies while Tony went out for meetings. Pepper was away at meetings with Tony as well. Every once in a while, Bucky or Sam would come out to pick on the two teens, earning glares and sass from the sick girl. It wasn't until Y/N threatened to throw them off a cliff once she's better that they finally stopped. However, Nat and Wanda would come out to do the same, teasing the couple relentlessly. If Y/N had her strength at the moment, she'd be threatening the two women, but she knows with them it's on-sight so there's no point until she's better. Peter would occasionally get a call from his two best friends, Ned and Michelle.

Eventually, Tony did come back and Pepper decided to stay and help him take care of Y/N. Peter decided to stay as well as he hasn't been able to see you for a whole week. Peter had already called May to ask for permission to spend the night, to which she agreed, saying she'd be working a night shift anyways. Now, Peter sits on the big couch with you while Tony and Pepper cuddle up on one of the other couches.

"She didn't give you too much trouble now, did she?" Tony asks, looking over at Peter.

"No, we stayed like this all day. Only moving to use the restroom, but besides that we've been in this same position." Peter states, looking over at the man. Tony chuckles, looking over at you in an unbelieving way.

"She wasn't emotional? Didn't throw up? No laugh crying? Begging for some 'hot choccy milk'? Whatever that is." Tony asks, looking between Peter and his daughter.

"What? No." Peter responds, not sure what he's going on about.

"Last night, I took her to a Walgreens to buy items for her flu. Cough drops, pills, teas, and so on. On the way to the store, she was playing that one Ariana Grande song, I guess it's a new one and she just started crying,"

"Dad, I don't know why I'm crying." you cry as you wipe the tears away. You begin to giggle a little, embarrassed that you're actually crying. It's really a mix of emotions. From being upset that you're sick, to feeling vulnerable because you're sick, to the line where Ariana Grande sings about loving herself.

"Are you really crying?" he asks, briefly turning and noticing your puffy eyes and the tears falling past your cheeks.

You begin to laugh as you cry, singing along. "Thank you, next. Thank you, next. I'm so fucking thankful for my ex."

On the way back, you were in charge of music again. Tony started the drive back home, just wanting to get you comfortable and warm. Suddenly, the sound of Some Velvet Morning by Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood. As the song reaches Nancy Sinatra's line, the tone shifts and once more, you're crying.

"This song is so beautiful, god I blame you for making me emotional, father." you cry once again. Tony sighs quietly to himself as he sees you crying again. He rests a hand on your, lightly squeezing it reassuringly. He sings along to the song with you, holding in his laughter.

Upon arriving back home to the Avengers Tower, Tony set you up in the living room per your request. At the store, he bought you DVDs; How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Polar Express, Elf, and the Nightmare Before Christmas. He set the movies up, also setting out your water and your juice, as well as some Halls cough drops. He made you eat a cough drop while he went to make you some TheraFlu tea.

"I want some choccy milk." you whine.

"You're 18, Y/N. Please act like one." Tony whines as he hands you a cap full of NyQuill.

"It tastes gross, dad." you whine, scrunching your face in disgust.

"Either way you can't drink milk. It'll make the phlegm worst. Just take the NyQuill, chug some water, and then drink your tea. Please." Tony whines.

You had spent a majority of the night awake, either in a coughing fit, throwing up, or being unable to breathe in general. Tony stayed awake with you the whole time, deciding he'd rather make sure you;re okay than let you stay up alone and sick.

"Geez, that sound bad." Peter sympathizes, holding Y/N closer to him. Tony shrugs, leaning back in his seat and watching the movie on TV. "Why Hallmark?" Peter asks after a few minutes of watching the movie in silence.

"Y/N and I have made it tradition that we watch shitty Hallmark movies and only that throughout the months of November and December. The only exception is the news. Besides that, this is all we watch."

"Yeah, and usually we drink some hot choccy milk, but all I have is this stupid TheraFlu tea in my hands." Y/N complains, sending Tony a glare. Tony shrugs, standing up and walking out of the room. The only sound in the room is the sound of some terrible Hallmark movie, that Y/N seems to genuinely like watching. After a few minutes, Tony walks back in with three mugs, offering one to Peter.

"Hot choccy milk, Peter?" Tony asks as Peter takes the mug. He offers one to Pepper as well before taking a sip of his own drink. Y/N glares as she angrily sips on her tea, popping another Halls cough drop into her mouth, crossing her arms across her chest and watching the movie again.

Please leave me asks/requests. I’m always a slut for new friends

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years ago

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Something More Than What I Had- Part One

Part One - Genesis

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, and God said, let there be light: and there was light. God saw the light, that it was good, and God divided the light from the darkness.” Genesis 1:1-4

“I failed. I messed up. I’m sorry,” Castiel gasped, staring at the deep-red blood on his hands. He sat with his ass on his heels, his knees in the standing rainwater with his palms open toward the sky. The falling droplets rolled down his palms, washing the blood off of him and into the dark alleyway. Anxiety crushed his chest like a too-tight hug, and he couldn’t catch his breath no matter how hard he tried. He’d made a mistake, and he knew better than anyone that some mistakes couldn’t be so easily fixed. Some things were impossible to walk away from. He stared at his hands, turning them over to wipe the blood on his slacks, and when he turned them back over, they were soaked in blood again. “Am I bleeding?” He wondered out loud, but his voice sounded wrong, distant, and almost like it belonged to someone else.

He hadn’t run fast enough. He tried to stand, to get his phone, to call for backup, but he couldn’t. He willed his body to move, and nothing happened. His legs were stone beneath him, simply a place for the bloody rain to roll down and settle on the ground with the vermin and the dirt.

Castiel was able to reach up into his jacket pocket and pull out his badge with great difficulty. His hands were slick from the blood, and he struggled to grip it. The badge was what he had always fought so hard to protect, it was the thing that he stood for, the thing he pledged to uphold. He ran his fingers over it, feeling an emptiness that cracked his chest wide open. The cool, wet air could blow right through him then, bouncing off of his ribs like wind chimes meant to keep ghosts away, but as Castiel held his bleeding badge to his chest, he knew that nothing would keep his ghosts away.

Further past him in the alleyway, past his line of sight, and deep into the darkness, a high pitched scream cut through the night air like a blade. The badge fell from his hands, clattering to the ground, and as it fell, Castiel fell with it. He could feel the tug of gravity in his chest as he plummeted through the rainwater, down into the asphalt, until he hit the bottom, and his eyes flew open.

He sat straight up in bed, holding his hand to his chest. He could feel the rapid thumping of his heart as he came down from the dream. The scream, he knew then, wasn’t a scream at all. His cell phone sat on the bedside table ringing angrily, desperate for attention. He squinted at the clock, the glowing numbers alerted him that it was ten minutes until six o’clock in the morning. He picked up his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. He already had a headache forming. “Detective Novak.”

“Novak, getting that beauty sleep?”

Castiel cleared his throat, needing to scratch the itch deep inside of his neck from sleep. “No, Captain. What can I do for you?”

“I have a case for you. It’s a perfect first case for Winchester. So once you get your prince to kiss you so you can get your ass out of bed, meet us at the scene. I’ll send you the address.”

Click.

Castiel groaned, letting his phone fall back onto the cushion of his comforter. He rarely slept. The importance of a good night's rest wasn’t something that made the list of important things to be communicated to Police Academy Cadets. Ever since he’d been promoted to Detective, it all had gotten so much worse. He considered wearing some kind of concealer under his eyes to keep the dark bags from wearing him down. As it turned out though, no amount of pushing something away would keep it from existing. Life didn’t work out quite like that, as much as he wanted it to.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and drug himself to his closet. His coffee machine worked on a timer, so most mornings he was woken up by seductive smell of freshly brewed coffee. That morning, however, he was up well before his alarm, which left the pot empty and cold. He slid open his closet doors, squinting into the darkness at his clothes, wondering why the hell he had picked his job, his life. He could’ve been a telephone operator, a personal designer, repair man, hell, anything that would keep him from getting calls about death first thing in the morning. He pulled out a random button-up shirt and khaki slacks.

It was all too often that people sleep walked through their lives, and Castiel never wanted to be that kind of person, but he also had no control over himself before his morning coffee.

He slipped into his slacks, buttoned his shirt, attached his suspenders, and tied his best blue striped tie, flattening it against his chest in the bathroom mirror. Changing from Castiel into Detective Novak was a transformation. As he looked at himself in the mirror, tired eyes, and messy hair, he felt like he was playing dress up. He clipped his badge to his hip and squeezed some hair product into his hands to tame the madness. After brushing his teeth, spritzing cologne, and a trip to the coffee cart on the way there, Detective Novak exited his vehicle at the crime scene. It was taped off and the forensic techs were already hard at work examining the evidence.

His young partner, Sam Winchester, stood awkwardly outside the tape. His plaid button up was wrinkled, and the collar stuck up on one side. At twenty-three years old, the kid was the youngest detective that the sixty-sixth precinct had seen since Castiel was promoted four years earlier. It was impressive then that they gave a twenty-six year old kid a shot like that, but from what Captain Singer had said, Winchester was something else altogether. He was a natural, but by looking at him Castiel would never have guessed. Winchester was green, and in his experience, that was what got people killed.

The kid towered over him at a very tall six foot three, so when Castiel approached he turned up his chin to try to make up for the extra five inches. “Are you enjoying watching everyone else work, Rookie?”

Sam turned toward him, looking like he was seconds from jumping out of his skin. He ran his fingers through his shoulder length hair and offered a smile. The top two buttons of his plaid shirt were undone, and he wore his badge on a chain around his neck. At least his shirt is tucked in, Castiel thought bitterly.

“No, I was just waiting for you.”

“Good. Let’s get to work.” He took a sip from his coffee before ducking under the crime scene tape. He approached the body of a young woman. She laid flat on her back, her ankle swollen and bruised, her dark hair splayed out in a puddle of standing rainwater. The red smear of lipstick looked jarring against her pale, blueing skin. She stared directly at Castiel, her eyes open in an accusing stare, framed by running mascara. No matter how many bodies he saw in his years on the job, he was never prepared for the eyes. It was haunting to look into glassy, unblinking eyes, their faces still holding the same expression as when they saw the person about to kill them.

His eyes flickered to Winchester to gauge his reaction to the body. The kid had his notepad out and was already scribbling furiously, his eyes bouncing from the scene back to his pad as he took everything in.

“Eileen,” Castiel said out loud, waving his hand slightly to catch the crime scene tech’s attention.

“Novak,” she responded, her fingers curling into a D shape that circled above her heart, signing the word for detective. Castiel didn’t pretend to know more sign language that he did, but since Eileen had been hired a few months previously, he was picking up on it more and more.

“What do you have for us?” He asked her, making sure to enunciate.

She glanced up at Winchester and smirked a bit, her eyes not leaving him as she held out her palms, flipping them, and moved her right hand to her cheek swiping it backwards. Castiel stared at her blankly, recognizing the first sign for dead, but not much else. She let out a breathless laugh when she caught the look on Castiel’s face: his mouth curled into an annoyed scowl, it was a look that said, continue.

“Female, age eighteen to twenty-one, cause of death was a stab wound.” She gestured to the victims bloody midsection on her too-small black dress. Parts were still wet, which told Castiel that there was a lot of blood. “Time of death was in the last five hours. I will have more once I get back to the lab.”

“Did she have identification?” Winchester asked, his pen still pressed to his pad.

“Not that I saw, but she did have this,” Eileen said, squatting down. She pointed a gloved finger to a discount store necklace resting on her collarbone that read Trixie.

Castiel winced at the sound of his partners pencil scratching against paper and shot him a look. “Winchester do you mind? This isn’t creative writing class at the community center. Why don’t you pay attention?” He snapped.

She put her index finger to her lips and slashed it downward through the air. “Really?”

“I don’t know if either of you noticed, but we have a dead woman here. A homicide. That requires focus,” he grouched, still feeling unbelievably sluggish from his lack of coffee.

He didn’t have a steady partner for years. He never found anyone that clicked with him since he’d been a rookie himself, and the constant revolving door of officers kept his patience short. He looked at Winchester, expecting him to falter, but he didn’t. Instead, he closed his pad and slid it into his back pocket. “Have you looked through her purse?”

Eileen shook her head. “Not yet.”

Winchester squatted down, and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket, sliding them onto his oversized hands. He carefully picked up the purse to examine the inside. “Just as I suspected.”

“What is it?” Castiel asked, taking a sip of his now-cold coffee.

“She’s a prostitute,” the kid said, turning to Eileen to make sure she could read his lips.

Eileen grinned widely and repeated the same brushing motion on her cheek that she did a moment before. “I thought so, too.”

“Is that the sign?”

She nodded, and the kid copied her motion, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. Flirting at a crime scene on his first day? The kid is too soft, he won’t last a week on the job. “What brings you to that conclusion?”

The kid opened the purse wider to show him the contents. There was a strip of rubbers, lubricant, and a leopard print pepper spray canister.

“This is all circumstantial. She could just be promiscuous.”

A smile grew on Winchester’s dimpled cheeks, and his eyes caught the light of the rising sun, giving them a mischievous glint. “You’re right, but that isn’t what tipped me off. This is.” He slid a card out of the bag and handed it to Castiel. It was a small square piece of paper only a few square inches. It was matte black with patent black words that read non tiembo mala.

“I fear no evil,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I had a friend who worked in sex crimes at my old precinct. Girls who turn tricks will give it to potential clients to let them know that they are open for business.”

Castiel pressed his lips together in a hard line, glancing at Eileen and fingerspelling DNA? She shook her head in response. He let out a sigh before catching the empty stare of the hooker at his feet. She was just another victim to the streets of the city. Just one more person that he couldn’t save.

Later that day

Castiel was chain smoking cigarette after cigarette in the alleyway behind the precinct, as if he would find the answers to the world's questions in a puff of smoke. The air was brisk against the burn from the smoke in his lungs. They hadn’t been back at the precinct long, and he was already so fucking tired. Despite the obvious ramifications, on days like this, he could see the appeal of picking up a bad habit or two. Just when the coffee couldn’t cut it.

The creak of the rusting, metal door to the precinct opening alerted him that his alone time had just run out.

The kid poked his head out of the door into the alleyway, his wide eyes and floppy hair making him look like a goddamn puppy. “Detective Novak?”

“What do you want, Rookie?”

“I was hoping we could talk about the case...” Winchester stepped all the way out into the alleyway, his hands immediately shoved back into his pockets.

“Oh,” he grunted, his blue eyes flickering back to the rookie. He squinted at him through an exhale of smoke. Castiel ran his fingers through his messy, dark hair before continuing. “There is no case. Captain gave us a cold one for your first run. We have to keep you humble.” His tongue ran along his bottom lip before taking another long drag, the end of his cigarette glowing against the brick of the building and the dark, overcast sky.

The kid shot him a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows up and his mouth hanging open. “So we aren’t going to look for her killer?”

“She’s a whore with no identification and a fake name, killed in a city of 8.6 billion. There’s no evidence at the scene. Not exactly worth the resources.”

Winchester clenched his hands into fists at his side, his fingers turning white from the pressure. “How can you say that? You aren’t even going to try? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Castiel flicked his cigarette away, stepping on it with the toe of his dress shoe. How could he explain it? He was no mentor. He wasn’t this kid’s father. Life was fucking cruel, and the sooner the kid learned that, the better off he would be. “You’ve got a bleeding heart.”

“Don’t you?” He spat. “If you’re not in this to help people, then why are you?”

This always proved to be the hardest part for Castiel. Empathy. Talking to victims’ families trying to explain. All we are is dust in the wind, wasn’t exactly a comforting answer to most grieving people. He put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You’ll learn eventually, so I may as well tell you now... we can’t save them all. We can’t bring them all to justice. The world is a dark place, Rookie.”

His partner jerked away from his touch. “You think I don’t know that? Just because I’m new to homicide, doesn’t mean I’m new to the police force. I know the world is dark, Novak, the part I can’t wrap my mind around is why you’d be willing to give up before you even tried. That just seems really fucking lazy.”

Castiel watched the young detective turn away from him and push through the door in an exasperated huff, back into the precinct. The door groaned as it slowly shut, fighting against the weight and rust.

He ran his hands over his face once he was alone again. He didn’t want to crush the kid, but he’d seen enough of these cases to know that there was no rest for the wicked. They’d mull over the case for weeks until they’d finally have to leave it cold, so why not just skip to the end?

He dug in his pocket to pull out another cigarette, just to find the box empty. “Shit,” he muttered, fingering the opening of the box. It was lacking just like his leads, just like his heart. There’d be no good coming from him without another smoke. No clarity from the haze. He slid the box back into his pocket, for the sake of consistency, and walked back into the precinct.

It was bustling, like usual. Cops squishing past other cops, trying to file, take statements, drink stale coffee. Castiel rolled up the sleeves on his plain white button up and released his tie from around his neck. He shoved it haphazardly into the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Castiel,” Charlie the office assistant said, leaning into Castiel’s desk, only moments after he collapsed into his chair. “What’s new, Scooby Doo?”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Come on, Cranky. Smile.” She grinned widely as an example.

“Don’t feel like it.”

Charlie perched herself on the edge of his desk, tossing her right leg over her left. “You don’t like the rookie?”

“He’s just a kid. Not much to like.”

“But he’s cute, right?” She eyed him. “I’m gay, but I can see it from a mile away.”

“He’s my partner.” Castiel's eyes widened at the accusation, anxiety suddenly bubbling in his chest.

“Don’t be a prude, Grandma.” She teased, poking his chest.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. He watched her twisting her Harry Potter ring around her finger. He couldn’t resist Charlie’s charms, they were two sides of the same coin, and she tended to bring out the best in him. “I’m not a prude,” he defended with a smile. “I’m a professional.”

“Sure, that’s why you won’t eye the ass of the cute new detective, but what’s your excuse for all the rest of the prudish activity?”

“What prudish activity?” Castiel spun his pen through his fingers.

“First of all,” Charlie said, adjusting his suspenders. “You dress like an eighty year old man.”

“That’s hurtful.” He poked out his bottom lip in an almost pout, knowing full well that she wasn’t wrong.

“Second of all, you never go out on dates. Not since...”

“Don’t,” Castiel said, shooting out a hand in warning. Charlie paused, her bottom lip between her teeth. He sighed and offered her a smile as a white flag. It wasn’t her fault, after all. He couldn’t blame her for not living in the past, just because he continued to. “You know I don’t need to date. I’m already married.”

Charlie met his smile with relief and apology. “Oh really? Since when? To who?”

“I’m married to my job.” Castiel tilted his head to the side with a big shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off.”

“Novak, Bradbury,” Captain Singer barked from his office. “You two like to fuck around, or would you like to get your jobs done?”

“Aw Bobby, don’t be so cranky,” Charlie whined, giving Castiel a look that said see ya later, wish me luck, before she hustled back to her desk. “Reporting for duty!”

Castiel redirected his attention to the papers on his desk, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

He opened the case file that he had the kid prepare when they got back to the precinct. Castiel ran his fingers over the picture of the woman laying out in the street, his heart aching. Trixie Knight, female, age nineteen, deceased. His partner thought he was heartless, but in reality he cared. He cared a lot, but he was also a realist. He saw so much death in his job that it was hard to be positive. It was hard to see the light in all the darkness.

He shut the file, to keep Trixie’s eyes off of him, and glanced at the rookie sitting at his desk. The kid was pouring over the files, his long hair falling into his face. He looked serious, concerned, his forehead was wrinkled, and his tongue was barely poking out as he focused on the information in front of him. He flipped through his own notepad that he’d been furiously scribbling in that morning, before throwing it in the wastebasket next to his desk with a force that made the plastic can shake. Castiel watched the rookie pinch the bridge of his nose, looking way too much like his mentor in that moment, and he sighed in response, stood up, and walked to Winchester’s desk. “Hey, Rookie.”

“What do you want, Novak?” He asked begrudgingly, not bothering to look up at Castiel. If he was being honest, he deserved the cold shoulder.

“Take a break, kid. You look like you need some joe.”

“Got some.” He gestured weakly to the coffee maker.

“How about some coffee worth having?” Castiel asked, with a raised eyebrow. The precinct coffee did in a pinch, but if the kid was having the same kind of day that he was, it wouldn’t be enough.

“You gonna try to talk me out of working this case?”

“No,” Castiel said after a moment, with a heavy sigh. “Despite my better judgement, I’m going to help you. Let’s go, before I change my mind.”

His puppy ears perked up at that, and he quickly stood up, gathering up his materials. Castiel wasn’t sure exactly when he decided to help the kid. It had to be somewhere in between being called fucking lazy and his hair falling in those puppy eyes. There was something special about a young cop, and Castiel could see that light in him. The same light that the job had put out in himself long ago.

The two men made their way to Castiel’s second favorite coffee shop, apart from the cart outside of the precinct. “I like this place. It’s secluded, local. Not too busy,” Castiel explained as they pushed into the shop, the bell above the door alerting their arrival. They ordered two coffees, his an Americano, strong, and the rookie’s with almond milk.

His partner smiled at him. “You like to be alone, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

They settled down in the back of the coffee shop. It smelled like freshly brewed coffee and buttered scones. The lighting was low, and the walls were covered in old books. It felt cozy and much too sentimental for someone like Castiel to frequent, but he supposed that was why he liked it. “If I’m around other people, then that’s just one more person to disappoint,” Castiel admitted. “Usually I prefer to only disappoint myself.” He blew the steam off his coffee before taking a sip.

“Bet you’re thrilled to have me around, then.” Winchester smiled widely. “Honestly, Novak, I think you’ve got it all wrong. Other people can lift you up. I have a brother, and he’s been nothing but great for me.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You have a brother?” He had siblings, but he didn’t talk to them, or about them. His life in the force was an all consuming one, and it was easier to just let it consume him than to try to juggle a family as well.

“Yeah,” he said, pouring copious amounts of sugar into his coffee. “He practically raised me, and once our Dad died, he moved in with me. Guess it’s my turn to take care of him, but that’s what family does. We take care of each other.”

“That must be nice,” Castiel said genuinely. Watching the kid, he decided that he couldn’t quite crush him. Maybe Castiel wasn’t as cold as everyone made him out to be.

“And you know, if you let me, I could have your back, too. I’m actually pretty good at it. Isn’t that what partners are for?”

Castiel nodded knowingly, pulling the case file out of his bag. The kid was soft, with a bleeding heart, and unrealistic ideals, but as much as he hated to admit it, Sam Winchester was growing on him. “That is the idea.”

He opened up the file, closing the conversation. It was all a little too touchy feely for his liking; getting emotionally involved only complicated things. It’s why he never bothered with a dog, or a boyfriend. So he got to work, his eyes scanning the information again. The markings on the victim. The toxicology report. He squinted at the words, as if something on the page could jump out at him if he just looked from a different angle.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there, letting their coffees grow colder, before the kid spoke up. “Hey, Novak?”

“Can I help you?” Castiel grouched instinctively.

His partner recoiled a bit, his hair falling back into his eyes. Castiel resisted an eye roll, because the damn kid looked like a Disney Princess with his hair in his eyes and his soft smile. If he was going to be taken seriously, he needed to get a goddamn hair cut. “I was just…” He let out a sigh and pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Just spit it out, kid.”

Sam’s eyes met his. “I was just wondering what happened when you were new, I heard there was a case, and it was bad, but no one would tell me what it was. They said I should ask you, so I guess I’m asking.”

Castiel’s eyes flickered back down to the file in front of him, his hands immediately sweating. How was he supposed to move on if he was always moving backward? He reached forward and tapped the back of his partner’s laptop. “Get back to research, Rookie. No sense in going over old cases when there is a murder that needs to be solved now. We are partners, not girlfriends. No need to talk about our feelings.”

His chest was tight, his heart thrumming against his ribcage angrily. He could still hear his name echoing through the dark alley, feel the rain water on his cheek, and smell the blood like he was there.

Cas, get the fuck out of here!

Castiel shuddered, a chill running up his spine as his eyes settled on the eyes of the prostitute. It was a long time ago, but he still felt like he’d never get over it. Time heals all wounds. What a fucking joke.

Later that night

Dean Winchester sat at his writing desk in the living room of his apartment with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’d been staring at his typewriter for the better part of an hour, and he was moments away from throwing in the towel when the lock on the front door turned, and his brother pushed into the apartment. “Sammy,” Dean said relieved, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Hey, Dean. You’re still up,” Sam commented, taking his wallet and phone out of his pocket and resting it on the counter. His badge hung around his neck, forgotten. “What are you working on?”

“Article about the prostitute,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “At least, I’m tryin’ to. Inspiration ain’t exactly on my side.”

“Jesus, man. She isn’t even in the ground yet.”

“Whatever, kid. This is your debut case! We are gonna frame this thing,” he grinned, taking another swig of whiskey.

Sam rolled his eyes, flashing his perfected bitch face, setting down his coffee mug. His brother looked tired with his long hair pushed behind his ears. He was growing a patchy beard along his jawline, and his green eyes were red along the edges from lack of sleep. “Pour me one? I need to wind down.”

“Watch out for Sammy,” his father had said, from his withered hospital bed, gripping Dean’s shirt. He’d looked at his oldest son desperately, so much so, that Dean had to nod. He had to agree. He had to come home.

Ever since the day John Winchester died, the two brothers had lived in the same cramped apartment in New York City. After the funeral, Dean packed his one duffle bag and squeezed into the second bedroom in his brother’s already-cramped apartment. It was a miracle that both of the over-six-foot-tall men could fit, but if they were being honest, they liked being close. It reminded them of their shared space in the motel rooms growing up. After their mom died, John packed up his boys and ran. He never stopped running until the day he died.

The ex-marine’s body was littered with cancer. He was sick and delusional on his deathbed, with piss covered sheets. Dean watched his father deteriorate in front of him, his mind playing tricks on him. He treated Dean like he was still a kid. Protect Sammy was their mantra growing up, as if Dean needed any more reminders. It was always his job to take care of his little brother. It wasn’t something he needed to be told. “We watch out for family, son. No matter the cost.”

“You were out late,” Dean pointed out, as he poured his little brother a glass of whiskey to match his own. “Business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Sam grunted.

“Is Novak still refusing to work on the case?” He pressed the glass back to his lips. His brother had called him earlier in the day to complain about his partner, and Dean quickly decided that the detective was on his shit list.

“He’s just an ass! He is going to let that poor girl rot in the ground in an unmarked grave, Dean! Where’s his sense of goodness, of light? He isn’t even going to bother,” Sam spilled into the phone.

“Seriously? I bet you can get him written up for that, Sammy. Not saying to be a narc, but that’s pretty fucked up.”

“Isn’t it? I’m just going to work it anyway. I don’t give a shit what he says. This is why I became a cop. I’m not going to just roll over.”

“Don’t roll over! You know what’s right. Maybe you can teach him a thing or two.”

“Actually, I think I got him to come around.” Sam grinned proudly, and Dean could see him, like he was six years old again, holding his macaroni art like he was fucking Picasso.

“Of course you did, kid. I knew you could. It’s those puppy dog eyes you’ve got,” Dean said before poking his finger between his brothers eyes. “Can’t say no to ‘em.”

Both brothers’ interest in murder came early in life, and Dean figured that it was due to their mom. When he was four years old, and Sammy was six months old, she was murdered. It was arson, but there was something else, something sinister. The police suspected foul play, but they were never able to get a real suspect. The case went cold, and so did their relationship with their father. It was Mary Winchester that held their fragile house of cards together. Without her it quickly folded, fluttering to the floor. She brought peace to the fears that John brought home with him from his stint with the Marines. Every night when she put Dean to bed she would kiss his head and tell him that angels were watching over him. After Mary died, Dean stopped believing in angels. They all did.

Sam stared into his glass for several beats, looking like he got lost in the liquor. “You okay, man?” Dean asked his brother, as he pulled the pages out of his typewriter, tossing them in the trash in defeat.

“Fine,” he grunted in return, looking up at Dean. “Just tired.”

“That partner of yours working you too hard? You won’t age pretty if you don’t sleep, Sam.”

“I don’t get the impression that Novak sleeps much, honestly.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “And he’s plenty pretty. The coffee cart girl always writes her number on the side of his cup, and he never notices. Not sure if he’s just focused, or if it’s because of all the shit he’s seen. I kind of think that’s why he’s such a grouch.”

“Aww, Sammy do you have a little crush?”

Sam swatted Dean’s hand away with feigned annoyance. “The case is getting interesting, though, we found out that the girl had been missing. Her name was Amara, and she was really young when she was taken. We suspect she was a part of a sex ring... we are just waiting for the mother to come down to ID her.”

“Shit,” Dean said, finishing his whiskey and pouring another one. “The world is... shit it’s so fucked up, Sammy. You really want to see this all day?”

“You really want to write about it?” He countered.

Dean shrugged in response. “I think it’s my responsibility to bring some kind of justice to an unjust world.”

“Me too,” Sam said with a nod.

There was something unspoken between the brothers, a promise: to bring the justice their mother hadn't received to others. The difference between them, though, was that Sam’s hands were tied by the system in a way that Dean’s were not.

“So what happens then? Any leads on the guy who took her?”

“We have a few ideas, but nothing concrete. This is interesting, though,” Sam commented, pulling out his phone. He held it out, showing his brother an image he took from the crime scene.

Dean squinted at the screen, a raised, pink scar against pale skin. “Is that... is that a brand?”

“Yeah, an old one. It’s healed into her skin. I don’t recognize the symbol, but we think her pimp may have branded her. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s something.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Dean examined the image on his brother’s phone more closely, feeling a familiar pit grow in her stomach. “Sammy, I think I recognize this.” He ran his fingers over the symbol. A circle with a line through one end. The line was halfway through the circle and halfway out of it.

“What? Really? From where?”

“A club... it was, fuck, it was on one of the waitresses.”

“On her like...”

“Just like this, on her hip. I assumed it was a weird body modification thing.”

“Dean.” Sam met his eyes. “What club?”

“Crossroads. It’s called Crossroads.”

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed a number, clicking the phone to speaker.

A rough voice broke through the static after two rings. “Rookie, tell me why you’re calling me at one o’clock in the morning?” The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood up at the sound of rough sleep in the detective’s voice. He sounded annoyed, still slurred with sleep.

“I have a lead.”

“You’re still working on the case? You should be in bed, kid. Let’s talk in the morning.”

“Don’t hang up, Castiel!”

He groaned in response. “What do you want, Winchester?”

“I want us to go check out this lead. My brother recognized the brand from a nightclub he’s been to.”

“You’re showing classified pieces of a case to someone who isn’t an officer? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Rookie.”

“Can you get off your high horse for five minutes?” Sam groaned, pacing through the living room, stepping over Dean’s discarded boots. “Let’s just check it out.”

“We can go tomorrow.”

“No we can’t. It’s a nightclub. You know, only open at night.”

There was silence on the line before Castiel let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. What’s the club?”

“Crossroads.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Click.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Meeting Detective Cranky at the club?” This should be interesting.

“Apparently. Guess I better switch to coffee,” Sam said, dumping his whiskey down the sink. “How long has this been sitting out?” He pulled out the coffee pot.

“What time did you leave this morning?”

“Six thirty.”

“Since six thirty .”

“Great.” Sam laughed dryly before pouring himself a cup anyway.

“I’ll be ready in fifteen.” There was no way in hell that Dean was missing this.

“You? You’re not coming. He’s already pissed that I showed you the picture.”

“I’m definitely coming. I got you the lead.” He poked his brother’s nose with a smile. “You need me.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

“I don’t, but fine. Come. You know the club, you could be helpful, but you’ve gotta leave the journalist hat at home.”

Dean put his hands up, palms out. “I hear ya, Sammy. We are all good.” He smiled widely, miming taking off a hat and sitting it on the couch. “Now, you’ve gotta change. You look like a cop.”

“I am a cop,” Sam complained.

“You don’t want to look like one in a place like that.” He patted his brother's shoulder. “We leave in ten.”

A half hour later

The club was busy. Asses and elbows, according to Dean Winchester. “Let’s get a drink!” He shouted, slapping his brother’s back. They didn’t go out together enough, and with the familiar smell of sweat and alcohol mixed with the bass vibrating through the floor, Dean was in the mood for some fun. Murder or no murder.

“I’m on duty, Dean.”

“You need to loosen up, big guy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed his hair behind his ears. “I need to wait for Novak.”

“Uh huh. Well, I’m getting a shot. Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

Sam waved at his brother dismissively, and Dean pushed through the crowd. The beat of the music from the DJ was pulsing perfectly in sync with his heartbeat. “I’ll have a shot of Jack,” Dean said when he made it to the bar.

The bartender nodded and turned to pour the drink.

Dean leaned into the bar and spotted a man next to him, who was turned away from him watching the dance floor. His hair was messy and dark. He wore a dark blue button up with rolled up sleeves. Dean raised an eyebrow; the guy looked good from behind, and Dean was just buzzed enough to notice. “You need a shot?”

He turned to look at Dean, his eyebrows were drawn together in annoyance, but even in the darkness of the club Dean could see his crystal blue eyes glowing with the reflection of the strobe light. His full lips were pressed in a tight line.

“Oh, Sweetheart you definitely need a shot,” Dean said, eyeing him up. He gestured to the bartender. “He will have a tequila shot. Actually, make it two.” He winked.

“No offense, uh...”

“Dean.”

“No offense, Dean, but I’m not here for that.”

Dean half expected a not tonight added to the end of the man's sentence, but his deep, rough voice halted with a sharp that. “Aw, that’s a shame,” he admitted flirtatiously. “Because blue is really your color.”

The bartender slid him the three shots he’d ordered.

“I’m sure you can get some other poor sap to take your free alcohol,” the man said cooly, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.

Dean took the shot without breaking eye contact, the whiskey sliding down his throat. There was an electricity in their gaze. “I’d rather you take it.” He slid the shot toward the man slowly. “I want to see how you swallow.”

The man’s eyes widened at Dean’s remark, and his mouth opened to respond, as Sam slid in next to them. “Sorry, Novak, I didn’t see your text until just now... Oh! I see you already met my brother, he, uh, thought he could be helpful to the investigation since he’s been here before.”

“Novak ?” His heart dropped through his stomach, past the barstool, and right into the ground with a splat that rang out in his head so loud that he was sure everyone else could hear it.

“You’re Dean Winchester?” The detective asked flatly, staring at him, as Dean held the tequila shot between his fingers, looking like a complete fucking idiot.

“Yeah and you’re… you’re my little brother’s partner.”

“Looks like I am.”

They stared at each other hard, and Dean debated whether or not he should erase the past five minutes from his mind. It would likely be better that way.

“Did I interrupt something?” Sam asked, shifting his weight, his eyes bouncing between the two men.

“No,” Novak said suddenly, tearing his eyes away from Dean. “He was just offering me a drink while on the job. I don’t feel that’s professional, so I declined.”

His brother shot Dean a look, and he shrugged in response. “Cas, uh, I brought Dean along because he recognized the brand from another woman who was at this club,” Sam explained.

“How often do you frequent here, Dean?” Cas asked, sending a shiver up Dean’s spine as he heard his name drawn out on the detectives tongue.

“A few times. Not much,” he admitted. “But every time I’ve come, I’ve seen the girl.”

“Hm.”

“Do you see her now?” Sam asked. “It’d be good if we could question her about the mark.”

Dean had to peel his eyes away from the detective’s, he knew that he’d easily drown within them if he wasn’t careful. Sam wasn’t kidding when he said that Cas was pretty. He looked like one of those television cops. He could’ve gotten the world with batting his long eyelashes, but he chose to do this instead. It took everything in Dean to pull his eyes away from the detective, but after a second, he swallowed hard and scanned the room for the girl. “I don’t know, man. It’s really packed.”

“I thought you could help,” Castiel snapped.

“I can...”

“It isn’t right for Sam to bring you here. We don’t involve civilians in murder cases. Your brother should know better.”

“Sammy made the right call,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes, annoyance flaring in his chest. Pretty or not, Castiel Novak was a dick. “I can help, just, Christ, give me a second.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow and allowed a brief pause so Dean could scan the room again.

“Bingo.” He swallowed both tequila shots without a second thought as his eyes landed on a curvy blonde in a red strappy dress. Castiel’s spine seemed to straighten in response. Dean pushed away from the bar and through the crowd.

“Krystal,” Dean said, leaning against the wall on his arm above the blonde’s head.

“Dean!” Krystal squealed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. He planted his feet on the ground solidly so she didn’t knock him over, his hands embracing her back. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. You haven’t visited me in awhile.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. His eyes flickered over her shoulder and landed on the blue eyed detective. Castiel.

“Can I get you a drink?” She asked him as she pulled back from the hug, her dark eyes reflecting his image under her long false eyelashes.

“I’m good.” He offered her his best smile before scratching the back of his head, awkwardly trying to change the subject. “Actually Sweetheart, we uh... we’ve gotta ask you a few questions.”

“We?” Krystal frowned, turning to see Sam and Castiel flash their badges.

“Detective Novak and Winchester. If you don’t mind.”

“What?” She squeaked, looking around for a quick exit. “No... I’m sorry. I can’t talk to the police...” She turned to Dean, her eyes pleading.

“I’d hate to have to take you in for questioning,” Sam said low, his eyes meeting hers. “Please, this is important. You’re not in trouble.”

She glanced to Dean and he nodded. “Did you know a young woman named Trixie?”

“What?”

Both men slid their badges back into their pockets. “Trixie Knight?” Sam brought out his phone and flashed her a picture of Trixie’s face.

“Of course I know her. She works here,” Krystal said anxiously, her eyes locked on Sam’s. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“She’s dead,” Castiel said flatly.

Dean turned to the detective immediately. “Dude, really?”

“Dead? She can’t be dead, I just talked to her…” All of the color drained from Krystal’s face, and her body swayed slightly, her hand covering her mouth as if to keep something in. “Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick.”

He grabbed ahold of Krystal’s elbows to keep her upright. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He shot the detective another dirty look, before tending to Krystal. “Shh, you’re okay.”

Dean noticed Castiel shift his weight as he watched Dean care for the troubled girl. He looked uncomfortable, to say the least. “Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?”

“I...” She burst into tears. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe this.” She turned stiffly in Dean’s arms, burying her face in his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt.

“Hey. I’ve got you. Take your time.” Dean rubbed circles on her back.

The four of them settled into a booth in the back of the club, and Sam provided Krystal with a glass of water, while Dean tried to calm her down. After taking a second to catch her breath, she was ready to talk. “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” she began, “but I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” Her voice was small and trembling.

“She had the same mark,” Dean said carefully, tapping the spot of Krystal’s scar. “I don’t suppose that’s a coincidence, is it Krissy?”

She shook her head. “No... it... it’s not.”

“Was she a prostitute?” Novak asked her.

“Jesus,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel. “Not one for subtly, are you?”

“No,” he said, his eyes stuck on Krystal. “It is essential that we know.”

“What gave it away?” She asked, her eyes not meeting the detectives. “Was it the condoms in her purse, her too-high heels, or the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties? What part of that makes her expendable to you, Detective?”

“None of it,” Sam assured her. “We just need the full story. We are trying to find out what happened to your friend, Krystal. We believe she may have been kidnapped when she was a child.”

She was wringing her fingers, popping her knuckles, and avoiding the detective’s eyes.

“You can trust us, Krissy. We are just trying to protect you,” Dean whispered against her hair, taking her hand in his. He gave her fingers a supportive squeeze. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ya hear?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she looked down, covering her face from view. “Trixie knew that she was taken, obviously, but she was in the game for so long, when The King loosened his leash on her... she felt ruined. Like she could never go back to her family. She always said the darkness swallowed her whole.”

The Winchester brother’s exchanged a look. Darkness.

“Your pimp,” Dean began. “Did he do this to you?” His hand pressed to her brand again.

“Yes. Just another way to prove how ruined we are. How we are stuck inside of this life. We can’t ever escape, Dean. We just can’t.”

“Is the motherfucker here? I’ll kill him,” Dean said low. His blunt nails dug into his palms as he curled his fingers into a fist. Krissy was nice. She was a good girl, had some serious Daddy issues, but Dean figured they all did. She wanted to be a nurse for god sakes.

“Dean, no,” Sam said quietly, before meeting Krystal’s eyes. The fear in her reaction told them all they needed to know. The man was there. He was close.

“Do you think he killed her?” She asked Sam.

“Do you?”

“She wanted out. She wanted to go home... I don’t think she ever said it to him, but she wasn’t exactly hiding it. If he ever found out, he wouldn’t have liked it.” Krystal’s eyes flickered up over Sam’s shoulder, her eyes widening, and she sucked her breath in, like the wind was knocked right out of her chest.

The three men turned and followed her gaze. On top of the staircase leading to the private VIP lounge a man stood in a dark Armani suit. He stroked his beard once before pressing his glass to his lips. His eyes were scanning the room.

“Motherfucker,” Dean whispered, flying out of his seat before he had a chance to think it through.

“Dean, stop!” Sam said, but he was a moment too late. His brother was already pushing through the crowd, disappearing in the sea of people. The music was pulsing, the crowd moving together to the beat. It vibrated in Dean’s ears. He barely heard his brother and Novak yelling after him. He was laser focused on the douche at the top of the stairs.

He made it to the man leagues before the two detectives. “Hey, you run the place?” Dean asked him with a wicked smile, breathless from running up the stairs.

The man raised an eyebrow, curiously eyeing Dean, amber liquor sloshing in his glass as he raised it to his lips. “Who is asking?”

“Dean Winchester, and you are?”

“Crowley.”

“Just Crowley?”

“Like Cher, or God.” Crowley pursed his lips, he looked fucking amused, and it lit Dean up even more.

He flexed his fingers at his side, seriously considering knocking the smug expression right off his face. “Well, Just Crowley, you like to fuck up girls? Brand ‘em, maybe murder them when they get in your way?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Crowley’s eyes narrowed on Dean. It was a challenge to make him back off. A man like that could ruin Dean, but in that moment he didn’t care. There was one girl dead already and many more to follow if they didn’t get justice.

“I think you do.” Dean’s eyes locked on the glass in Crowley’s hand. A gold ring sat on his right ring finger, barely glinting in the strobe. A circle with a line through it. The same image as the brand. All Dean saw was red. “Motherfucker, I’ll kill you!” He didn’t know where the rage came from, he wasn’t exactly a violent person, but seeing the symbol resting on Crowley’s finger overtook him with an anger he didn’t know he possessed. Dean pulled his fist back and sent it flying forward into Crowley’s jaw. A jolt ran through his fingers and up his arm as he connected with the club owner’s jaw. It hurt, but fuck it was satisfying.

Crowley stumbled backwards, his glass falling out of his hand and crashing to the floor. “Fuck!” He cursed, holding his jaw. He shook his head, looking at Dean with complete disbelief in his wide eyes. “You should not have done that.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t been done a long time ago, actually,” Dean said bitterly, pulling his fist back again to wind up for another punch. Why not go two for two? Just by looking at him, Dean knew that motherfucker deserved more hits than even he could give him.

Sam caught his fist before it could collide with the business man again. “Dean, stop,” he hissed quietly, his fingers tightening around his brother’s fist. Blood trickled from Crowley’s lip and into his beard.

“It’s him, Sammy! Look at his ring,” Dean said breathing heavily, fighting against his brother’s hold, but from years of wrestling, his little brother knew all of his moves at that point.

Sam looked to Castiel with a pleading expression. The detective’s eyes flashed to Dean’s, and his palms were already sweating by the time he tapped against Sam’s arm. “I’m good, let me go.” His brother released him, and he nodded to Cas.

The seasoned detective let out a breath, turned to the bleeding club owner with a groan, and read him his rights. “You are under arrest for the murder and kidnaping of Trixie Knight. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” As he read, Crowley easily allowed himself to be handcuffed, his wrists out and available as Castiel clasped them into place with a click. Crowley’s eyes never left Dean’s. There was something sinister to the look. “Do you understand the rights I have read to you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Castiel’s eyes flickered to Sam’s, and he shook his head. “I’ll see you at the station. This is going to be a paperwork nightmare.”

“I’ll drop Dean off and meet you.”

“Right.”

The brothers watched Castiel lead Crowley away, through the club. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, the music blasting out in waves around them. “Why so glum?” Dean asked, slapping his brothers shoulder. “We caught a killer!” He was grinning widely. A new sense of complete relief washed over him. The skin on his knuckles was broken and throbbing, but they caught the bad guy. Krystal could go to nursing school! He was ready to celebrate.

Sam looked at him, his jaw tight. He was pissed, which caught Dean off guard, if he was being honest. “Are you seriously that thick, Dean? You fucked us over confronting him. We have no direct evidence, at least not for the murder, and now we only have twenty-four hours to get something, or at best apply for a longer hold. We can’t charge him yet. We don’t have enough.”

Dean frowned and rubbed his face. “Sammy I’m sorry... I just.... I was seeing red,” he stumbled over his words. Shit, shit, fuck!

“I know,” Sam said quietly. With a groan he shook his head. “Damn it, dude. You can’t do that. Not with my job. This shit is serious. You can’t go around hitting people. You can’t take the law into your own hands.”

“I know.” His voice caught in his throat.

“Do you?”

“Yes, Sam. I do. Okay?”

Sam raised his eyebrows and let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Now can you take an Uber home so I can go to the station and help Novak? We are going to need some espresso and a fucking miracle to get through the next twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Eight hours in

“We have fucking nothing, Winchester!” Castiel slammed his folder down on the desk. “And he isn’t talking.”

“Let me try again.”

“He’s lawyered up. There’s no point. That redhead in there is a snake, and there’s no point in trying to talk to him.” They watched Crowley and his lawyer chat politely through the two-way mirror. Abaddon was a notorious shark, even for a lawyer’s standard. She only took high profile clients and serious criminals, and if she was on Crowley’s case they had an even worse chance of locking him down.

“I submitted the paperwork for an extended hold,” Sam said weakly, his guilt getting the best of him.

“She won’t let that go through.” Castiel shook his head with a sigh. “I need another coffee.”

“Grab me one,” Sam said solemnly. He rested his forearm on the glass and his forehead on the fleshy part of his arm. His breath fogged up the glass, and he drew a frowning face with his index finger.

He heard Castiel walk away, and the door click behind him. Things were not looking up. None of the girls at the club would talk, they were scared. Even if they did talk, Crowley had all the money in the world, and the detectives had shit as far as evidence was concerned. They were at a standstill.

Sam grabbed the case file off Novak’s desk and pushed into the interrogation room. “Moose,” Crowley said with a bored smile. He’d taken to calling Sam by the name because of his height and dopey eyes.

“Fergus.”

“Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

Abaddon smiled wickedly next to him. “Are you here to release my client? We all know that what you have is flimsy at best, Detective. We are willing not to press charges against your brother for assault if you just let this all go.” She tapped her perfectly manicured, red nails on the interrogation table.

“Your client is suspected of murder,” Sam said flatly, gripping the case folder in his fingers. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Suspected.” She pursed her lips. “Well, your brother did hit my client. We have several hundred witnesses that will testify to that.”

“Or at the very least you can remove the handcuffs.” Crowley smirked, lifting his cuffed hands, the chain jingling. “I only let my lovers restrain me like this. No offense, Moose, but you don’t make the cut.”

“I think I’ll live,” Sam said sharply. “What about Trixie? Was she one of your lovers?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Abaddon said cooly, her eyes narrowed on Sam.

“No, she wasn’t. She was just a girl. Lot’s of girls come through my club, surely I can’t be responsible for every little thing that comes by for a cocktail.”

“You can if they’re kidnapped, wearing your brand.” Sam gestured to his ring. “What does the symbol mean, Crowley?”

“This?” Crowley asked, holding up his hand with a smile, wiggling his fingers. “This is minimalism, Moose. Fashion, although it looks like you don’t know anything about that, based on your chosen attire. Don’t think too hard about it. Sometimes a ring is just a ring.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Sam said, flipping open the case file to show him the image of Trixie’s brand. “Tell me, then, if it’s just a ring, why does Trixie have it branded to her skin?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Detective,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Sam’s. He didn’t even glance down at the picture, and damn it if it didn’t grind Sam’s gears.

“We are being more than cooperative. My client has answered all of your questions, Detective. So unless you have some evidence, I am going to move to get this arrest lifted,” Abaddon threatened, pursing her painted lips.

“That’s all for now,” Sam said, closing the folder. He picked it up and rested it in his arms before exiting the room.

Sixteen hours in

Dean came up to the precinct with breakfast and more coffee. Sam’s hands were trembling from being over-caffeinated, and his hazel eyes were tinted red from being awake for over thirty-five hours at that point. Castiel had large purple half moons under his eyes. They looked like hell, and that was being generous.

“I’ve come with rations,” Dean said with a large smile and his hands full of provisions. He figured sporting a sparkling smile and the good coffee from the shop that’s four blocks out of his way, would be enough to gain him some forgiveness.

“What are you doing here, Winchester?” Castiel snapped, his lip curling up in annoyance.

“Careful, Detective, or your face will stick like that,” he joked, holding out the extra large Americano to Cas.

The detective’s blue eyes narrowed like he might yell, or throw a punch, but he took the coffee nonetheless.

“Jesus, Sammy. You look like shit,” Dean commented as he handed his brother a coffee.

“Don’t really want to hear it from you,” Sam grumbled, taking a sip.

“Any news?” Dean asked casually, sitting on the edge of the desk. Maybe he was back on their good graces, or maybe they were just too goddamn tired to try to fight with him, Dean couldn’t tell at that point.

Sam shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “No dice.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. He knew it was his fault, and if the club owner walked... he didn’t know how he would live with himself. “You two are good, though, right? You’ll find something.”

“Cases take months. Getting a conviction in court isn’t easy when the world is required to assume innocence first and guilt only without reasonable doubt, Dean,” Castiel said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Dean looked at Castiel. He really looked at him, saw the slump in his shoulders under his wrinkled button up. His suspenders were twisted slightly, and he had yesterday’s beard growing in unevenly along his jaw. He still looked unbelievably handsome, but in a disheveled kind of way. In a way that looked like he could’ve been up all night being ravaged.

“You’re good, though. They gave you this case for a reason. You can…”

“We can’t do anything without evidence, Dean. Which is why we don’t arrest on a whim. It’s why we don’t punch possible murderers and confront them in their place of business.”

“I get it,” Dean snapped, frustrated. Shouldn’t the detective be pissed at the motherfucker who was killing girls? Dean had made a mistake, but he was trying to be a good guy. He was trying to make the right choice. Shouldn’t that count for something? “I fucked up.” The weight of the detective’s words sat on his mind and in his heart, and he instinctively rubbed at his sternum with the heel of his hand.

“And your fuck up falls on us,” Castiel said, walking toward Dean. Deep blush was creeping up his neck, past his collar, in anger. “It falls on me. Sam is my responsibility. He’s a rookie and shouldn’t be making major calls on cases. This is Homicide. Your brother isn’t doing speeding tickets and petty theft anymore. This is serious.”

“Where do you get off, man?” He stood up, letting his anger get the best of him as he closed the space between himself and the detective. “Sam made the right call bringing me. I got the information from that girl. You wouldn’t have anything without me. You think you’re hot shit because you’re a detective, well guess what? So is Sammy. You’re not better than him, and you’re sure as shit not better than me.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Castiel said, low and gruff. His eyes were challenging, squinting at Dean. He could feel the heat of the detective’s breath on his lips, ragged, and heavy mingling with his own. All he had to do was turn his head to close the space between them and shut the detective up for good.

“Can we stop the pissing contest, please?” Sam groaned, standing up. “We have less than eight hours to book this guy or let him go.” He pushed his hair behind his ears. “It doesn’t matter how we got here, or who’s to blame. We just need to deal with it.”

Sam was right. Mistakes were made, and that was fucking obvious, but arguing wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t take back what had already happened. It wouldn’t help them get enough evidence to take down Crowley and Crossroads, and even though it took everything in Dean to back away from the detective, he did. This wasn’t the time or the place. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Castiel agreed, wiping his palms on his slacks. “Do you know anything else that can help?”

“Maybe,” Dean said, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “Let me try to get ahold of Krystal. Maybe she has more to say.”

“Do it,” the detective said before turning back to Sam. “Let’s start from square one. Get a new perspective.”

“You go it.”

Twenty-Three hours in

“Damn it!” Sam hung up his phone, letting it fall on his desk. “We still don’t have the warrant to search his apartment and office for the branding materials and murder weapon.”

“Krystal said they brand themselves,” Dean said, with his face in his hands. “Christ, why would they do that?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Castiel sighed. “But it means Crowley’s hands are clean... If we have any Hail Mary’s, now is the time,” he said to them with his jaw tight.

“We are fucked,” Sam said, defeat thick in his voice as he lowered himself to a seated position on the floor next to his brother. Their backs were pressed against the wall.

Abaddon smiled at them through the two-way mirror, as if she could see through the glass. She gave Castiel a wink as he went by to check on Crowley, leaning over and whispering in his ear. He was sitting in the same position they had left him in. He wasn’t sweating nervously or asking for water. He was smooth, calm even. Fergus Crowley knew that they had nothing on him.

Castiel pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Detective Novak.” He pressed his lips together as he nodded. “Yes. Are you certain?” He sighed and shook his head. “Yes. I hear you. Okay, I will. Bye.” He hung up the phone and turned around, gripping a chair in his hands. He lifted it and slammed it against the wall in a rage, before his hands fell flat on the table top.

“Christ, Novak! What’s going on?” Sam asked standing up.

Dean watched Castiel heaving, his back moving with every ragged breath. He was exhausted, his hair was sticking up from running his fingers through it and yanking at it from the roots. They had no answers, if anything they were so much further from the truth than they were the day before.

“He has an alibi, Rookie. Iron tight,” Castiel said through clenched teeth before he turned his face to his partner. “One of the girls is vouching for him.”

“Maybe it was a hit?”

“Either way we have nothing. Fuck!”

Dean sat feeling completely fucking useless while the two detectives paced the office minute after minute.

They made calls and drew on the whiteboard in the briefing room. Sam called again for the warrant. No matter what the three men suggested, with an alibi, Castiel and Sam couldn’t justify moving it forward or filing for an extended hold.

At hour twenty-four, Crowley walked free.

Read Part Two

Masterlist

Art by @cryptomoon

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tokoyamisstuff · 6 years ago

Text

Scars Ch. 4- Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU

Based on the Soulmate Prompt where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmate’s.

A/N: Stop my sinful hand.

[Masterlist]

Summary: Instead of getting arrested in Bucharest, Steve and Bucky managed to make their escape. They are in desperate need of shelter - and Steve has just the idea where to go.

None of you was prepared for what’s about to happen when you’d first meet your Soulmate.

Warnings: You ready to get killed by the angst? Mild cussing, mostly just the word ‘fuck’ over and over again. Mental Breakdown.

Words: 2609

Chapter 4: Mistake

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

The Captain frowned at his friend’s statement. Ever since he knew that Bucky was alive, he was searching for him, and now he was profoundly convinced to never give up on him again. No one could convince him of being wrong. He knew Bucky could be saved - ans while spending some time in his flat, waiting for him, he found out that there was another person who seemed to think the same.

After their valiant escape at Bucharest, both of them had to flee from every possible place they could think of, since the majority of the world was after them. Sharon was helping Steve and contacted him whenever someone found out about their whereabouts, warning them just in time before S.H.I.E.L.D’s forces would arrive. In the meantime, Sam was with Tony and the others, informing him about every new event - but the signing of the contract got delayed due to a more important matter: Finding the Winter Soldier.

No matter where they went, they were on their own. It didn’t seem to end. But it didn’t have to be that way. Still out of breath, the two of them were trying to make a short rest in an empty alley.

“I saw the note on your fridge, Buck. Who is she?”

He clenched his fist hearing this question. For a reason he couldn’t explain himself, he wrote down the adress and phone number you said he could always reach out for you with. Did anyone else know-

“Don’t worry” Steve interrupted his thoughts, waving with the paper as he realized Bucky was about to freak out. “No one knows, as long as that note is the only one. It’s contact data from a certain Y/N. Friends shouldn’t have any secrets, don’t you think so too?”

Bucky wrinkled at the thought of you getting into the hands of HYDRA, or any agency whatsoever. He was already way too nervous that he knew your full name and adress - if the Winter Soldier was about to be triggered again, he would spit all the information he knew about you, maybe even take you prisoner himself. You’re a distraction, a weakness.

He’s one of the currently most wanted persons on Earth - a terrorist, a mass murdering assassin, searched in almost every country of existence! If they were about to hide with your help, you’d be dragged into all of this. And he’d rather die right on spot than to have you exposed to any danger at all. If he was to die knowing you safe, he’d be glad to accept this fate.

Those were his crimes, not Steve’s or his friend’s, and certainly not yours. Why did everyone feel the need to be dragged into this?! He didn’t ask for help or sympathy. It hurt too much to know they all gave their best for someone not worth saving at all.

“No need tothink about it too intensely - I already contacted her” Steve said, shoving his cellphone to James’ face and showing a fraction of his texts with you.

“How the fuck could you?!” Bucky yelled as he tackled his friend towards the next wall, pressing his forearm against his windpipe. “If she gets hurt in any way Rogers, I swear what I would’ve done to you as the Winter Soldier would seem merciful compared to what I’d do now!”

Steve really needed to get used to that new, darker side of his friend. He took a deep breath before whispering “You know, Peggy died. Not even a week ago.”

Finally, Bucky let go off of him, shocked by Steve’s words. “Peggy...was alive? Until now? She must’ve been almost a hundret years old.”

“As should we” Steve laughed to hide the pain. Bucky’s expression changed from being furious to a rather pitying one.

“I could never be with her, my Soulmate. God...I had no choice, but I left her alone, all those years. Do you really want to do the same? Don’t do anything you’d regret later on.”

Steve had to think about how she married, had children and grandchildren. She did great things with her life, even if HYDRA got corrupted over the years. Yes, it was possible to try and lead your life without a Soulmate, finding purpose and maybe happiness. But still, everyone who did so always said that they could never fill the emptiness in their hearts. That they felt lonely, no matter how many loving people surrounded them.

After a long while of crushing silence and thinking, Bucky grumbled “How much does she know?”

The Captain scratched his chin as he saw the message from Sharon, confirming a safe escape plane she managed to disable the tracing from. But they needed to hurry.

“Nothing too much. I told her we’re victims of political persecution, and that the whole story was way too crazy to believe, if not told in person. Told her it could be dangerous.”

“What did she say?” his voice was deep and slightly shaking, even though he tried to pull himself together.

“Sounds nice, can’t wait to meet you” Steve chuckled. “She’s interesting! It’s already starting to grow on me!”

All this time, Buck thought he was the nutcase. Seems like he’s actually surrounded by ones. Maybe it’s just this new, different decade you all are living in.

You whistled a nice melody as you came home from a tour through the town.

Quickly storing the food and tidying the guestroom, you thought about how one of them would have to sleep on the sofa. Gosh, how long had it been since you looked so forward to guests visiting your home?

For some reason, you weren’t even nervous - even though the few clues about James’ situation this ‘Steve’ told you, seemed to be rather gloomy. Still, you were prepared. Determined even. You told yourself you’d save him many times before, and now you finally had the chance to do so. You didn’t even hold your life dear very much, so what’s the worst that could happen?

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

It made you crack a lopsided smirk, seeing a message by James appearing on your skin for the first time since what felt like an eternity. That idiot. How often did you tell him that this was your decision, and yours alone?

"I’m glad we’ll finally meet” you answered straightforward, feeling your face getting hot and probably being brightly red by now.

Bucky felt like beating his own head onto an iron pillar, but instead sat with his face against the wall, without moving an inch - just looking depressed and worried and nervous. Right now it seemed way easier to just jump out of this stupid plane than to face you.

“If you realize the full consequences of what it means to be my Soulmate, you’ll run away from me.”

“You can’t say that for sure, James. Also, you could’ve told me everything a long time ago.” Of course, and as always, you were right.

A feeling of anticipation was replacing his doubts the closer he and Steve were getting to their destination. What a beautiful way of living, he thought. Surrounded by nature and without those annoying city sounds. Kinda peaceful. He could imagine living here, too...Wait, what is he thinking?! He shook his head, trying to concentrate.

There it was. They stood in front of your door, no other houses instead of yours. Not a single witness. The perfect hideout.

Bucky was just mere inches away from the person who was chosen to love him until their dying breath.

But just seconds before, as he was making his way from the hallway and towards the door, he felt his subconsciousness scream at him:

Turn around.

Go away.

Never come back.

Don’t do this.

A single look on your nameplate scratched at his deepest memory, but still - no concrete picture of what he had forgotten.

So, after exchanging an encouraging look with his friend, he knocked.

And the tragedy began.

“Coming!” you chanted happily, as cheerful as never before.

The sound of your voice made Bucky’s heart stop for a mere second. Just as he imagined: So kind, so loving, so wonderful. He was unbelievable grateful for you being such a wonderful being, he wanted to kiss you the exact moment you’d open the door - not that he’d acutally dare to.

All the sorrows of this past time were replaced with pure joyousness as your light steps led you towards the entrance to your flat. You opened the door, the first thing you saw were two beaten-up and dishevelled-looking young men - which still didn’t lower their attractiveness, to be fully honest. The one in the background had an awful resemblance to Captain America, but your head was already spinning from overthinking those unnecessary details.

Finally, you looked up, just for your eyes to meet with an icy glare you’ve already exchanged looks with once in your life, and hoped to never see again.

That face. Those eyes- it can’t be.

There was no use in fighting it, the oceanic blue of his eyes triggering your memory without you being able to do anything against it. Instantly, you fell down to the floor, screaming in agony as the memories of the past emerged from your very core. You had no control over your own body anymore, feeling as if you were right there again, trapped in the past...

The day when the Winter Soldier killed your parents right in front of your eyes.

Bucky’s face grimaced in pain as he finally felt the memories break free for him as well - but you were right in front of him, having a mental breakdown. His guardian angel needed help herself, and he immediately felt the need to do everything to make you smile.

He kneeled down in front of you, wanting to help you get on your feet again, but found himself tongue-tied. As he reluctantly tried to touch your shoulders to get you back to reality again, you began to kick and slap and beat as fast as you could.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Why can’t you just leave me alone?! You fucking monster!”

James froze right where he was, with Steve only being able to just watch that tragic scene. He didn’t know what exactly was going on, but he knew nothing he could do would help any of you.

Meanwhile, you tried to surpress what seemed to be the horrifing truth. That man wasn’t here to finish the job. He wasn’t here to kill you just as he did with the rest of your family. He’s here because...he’s your Soulmate.

It was ridiculously painful, really: Two people who were meant to be together, simoultaneously having a panic attack because of one another. Both of you completely and utterly shattered at the fact that whatever rule of the universe is responsible for the bond of Soulmates, it wanted to see you suffer. Fate sure can be cruel.

“Y/N...” he breathed out with a voice close to disappearing completely, not able to hold eye contact because he thought it could make the pieces of his already shattered heart combust.

You covered your ears. “I don’t want to hear your voice again! Please, just stop already! Why are you doing this?!”

Something inside of you knew he wasn’t about to hurt you. That he would help you if you’d accept it. But you couldn’t think straight, now that the memories were re-emerging again. It was impossible. Never could you fall in love with the man who did such horrendous things.

“Y/N, please, let me explain. He isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, he’s an ally” Steve said with a gentle voice, to not startle you. But it only made the storm in your heart run loose.

“Are you fucking shitting me?! This malicious, vile scum being a friend of anyone?! Killing is his natural instinct, it’s in his blood! Shit, he doesn’t feel anything at all! How the fuck can he be an ally?!”

Steve wanted to raise his voice and defend his friend, but Bucky grabbed onto his costume and shoo his head. “I deserve to hear this” he thought. “And she needs to let it out.”

“I know HYDRA’s methods, my parents told me! Their assets are all powerhungry maniacs, and the Winter Soldier was the worst of them all! He’s incapable of having emotions, since he spent his whole life unlearning to do so! This thing isn’t human any more! So where’s the point in all of this? He killed my parents a long time ago, so why don’t you just free me from this misery and end it already?”

Every single word of yours hit his heart like a sharp knife. What kind of pathetic, worthless partner is he even? Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of your shaking and sobbing form, yelling all these truths at him until you finally passed out from the distress.

You were right. About everything. He would never be able to escape his sins.

Bucky tried to catch his own weight. He stopped, counting his breaths, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart - without success. It didn’t stop. The pain didn’t stop as he looked at this fragile, heavenly being he just destroyed - for the second time.

“L-let’s get inside for now” Steve muttered under his breath, glad that you were living so far away from any other person who could’ve heared your screams. “Pick her up and get her on the bed, she’s probably just emotionally exhausted.”

“I can’t” Bucky spoke in a gravelly tone, “I fucking can’t! I have no right to touch her!”

Steve sighed deeply. This wasn’t in the slightest the way how everything was supposed to happen. But as sadly as it was to admit, he was still glad that they seemed to have found a safe shelter right now - at least for the night. They’d make sure you’re alright and then leave immediately.

The Captain scooped you up from the floor and opened a few wrong doors before finally finding your bedroom and letting you sleep for now.

Bucky on the other hand still sat on the floor of your entrance, looking defeated. Slouched shoulders, arms hanging loosely to the sides, head facing the ground and eyes clouded by guilt, as the pictures of that night were flackering in front of his eyes again - the sounds of screams echoing in his ears.

It was as if his mind was mocking him, for actually thinking he deserved some peace and happiness. That he rose his hopes for a second. Tried to forget about his past and move on.

He didn’t want to face you ever again. He couldn’t.

You woke up a few hours later, when the sun began to rise. Covered in your sheets as if nothing ever happened.

Sitting up and seeing how you apparently kept on crying even in your sleep, you recapped all the haunting dreams of last night. And the cracking voices coming from your kitchen told you that the worst nightmare was still not over.

They were still here - he was still here.

But you couldn’t stay in your room forever. It was time to face those fears.

With weak steps, you walked towards the door, mentally preparing yourself for what could await you on the other side. But when you reached out for the handle, you saw your whole arm being covered in a single word:

M O N S T E R

[Part 5]

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jonathangroffcentral · 6 years ago

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The Mindhunter Cast Knows How to Spot a Sociopath

By Abraham Riesman - August 22, 2018 (x)

Photo: Maya Robinson/Vulture and Photo by Getty Images

Despite being a 1970s period piece, Mindhunter feels eminently of the present moment. We’re living in the midst of a true-crime renaissance, and the David Fincher–helmed Netflix series stands out not only as a (heavily fictionalized) example of the genre, but as a critique of it. As FBI agents Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff) and Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) and psychologist Wendy Carr (Anna Torv) delve into the brains and motivations of serial killers — especially real-life murderer Ed Kemper (Emmy nominee Cameron Britton) — we’re given a window into why humans have such a fascination with individuals who engage in death and destruction. But just as interesting as the tales on the screen are the tales of what it takes to tell them, as an audience learned during a panel discussion with Groff, McCallany, Torv, and Britton at this year’s Vulture Festival. Over the course of the conversation, the actors talked about Fincher’s notorious obsessiveness, whether Ford is a sociopath, and how Britton learned to play Kemper partially thanks to his own time as a schoolteacher.

So first off, before the show started, for each of you, how big a true-crime fan were you, if at all? Why don’t we start with you Jonathan.

Jonathan Groff: Me personally, not at all. Not a serial-killer person.

I should hope, yes.

JG: That’s the weird thing, though, is that people keep coming up to us and saying “I am so obsessed with serial killers.” And people are obviously fascinated by the mind and the way the mind works, and what they do, and how someone could possibly do what they’ve done, and whatever, but that was not my jam. What drew me to the show initially was obviously the opportunity to work with David Fincher. And also, the scenes. The scenes with the four of us, and the scenes with the serial killers, they’re almost like play scenes. And so getting the opportunity to act that out and do such psychological work was what drew me to it.

Were any of you true-crime fans?

Holt McCallany: I was a big fan of some of David’s earlier films, like Seven. Which obviously, there’s a serial killer. Zodiac. So the opportunity to work with him, a great director like David in a genre that he is such a master of was very exciting also.

Cameron Britton: Well, I’ve always been fascinated with serial killers. I find it to be an incredible enigma, and [Edmund] Kemper is a great example. I’m very confused as to how you can have no remorse to take a human’s life, especially often a young girl and do it so intimately. So you have no remorse for human life, but you care about what we think of you. It’s so confusing to me that serial killers, many of them, they’re really keen on being liked or being justified through us giving them attention.

Anna Torv: But isn’t that because that’s the point, that’s the narcissist in you, is that you only care about what people think of you, or you only care if someone’s talking to you. So therefore, the empathy thing is connected to another person. And so anything to do with the world is absolutely not important. But as soon as you’re involved in it, then that’s what they feed on.

CB: That’s a good point. Mystery solved. I don’t need to do it anymore.

HM: Anna makes a great point. That’s one of the fundamental themes of the show, narcissism. And this is why you see so many of these serial killers communicating directly with the press. David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam, the Zodiac Killer, Dennis Rader, the Bind, Torture Kill [killer]. These guys all wrote letters to the press and they wanted that adulation, they wanted that notoriety.

CB: They wanna feel special.

AT: Or they wanna take credit.

Tell me about the casting process? How did this go for each of you? Did you do sides? What scenes did you do? What made you wanna actually do the show? Why don’t we start over with Cameron.

CB: The first thing I read when I pulled up the sides is that little speech Ed gives when Holden says it’s hard to square you with what you’re in here for. You seem very nice. And Ed says something like, “I’ve been a regular guy most of my life. Nice home, nice suburbs, but at the same time, I was living a vile, deprived, entirely parallel other life filled debased violence, mayhem, fear, and death.” That was the first thing I read.

AT: He was like, “I want it.”

CB: I just need to know more. And there were something about the sides that were like …

HM: I’m perfect for this.

CB: Yeah. That’s me.

AT: Who is this guy?

CB: There was something about them, I just could tell it was a real person. So I looked up the name and then just went down a rabbit hole, it was all those YouTube … serial killers on YouTube, it’s a perfect example. It’s what the show feels like. It’s not terrifying to watch Mindhunter, necessarily, but it’s just unsettling. You can find Aileen Wuornos just talking to a camera. It’s hard to watch. Her eyeballs, they are just terrifying. I probably spent … I was up past midnight working on that self tape. I can do it better, I can get it, I can get the eyes right.

HM: And boy, did he nail it.

Anna, how about you? What was your audition process like?

AT: It was pretty smooth and simple, actually. I, again, got the pages. And often, you go in for an audition and you’re lucky if you get two pages. And it’s like, “Hey.” And it was a good 15. And then I knew what the show was, and so I read the book then, though, before I went to audition for it. And the character that I’m playing isn’t in the book, and I worked out who she was. But she’s a completely different person to the one that we’ve created in the show, to Wendy. And then I went in and tested with beautiful Laray, who casts the show.

HM: A round of applause for Laray Mayfield.

AT: Then I think I met with David and did them again. And then got the call. And I was beyond ecstatic, like beyond.

HM: I had worked with David a couple of times previously. I was in his first film, a film called Alien 3, and then I was in Fight Club. But they were smaller parts, I had never been in a lead. And so when I realized that Bill Tench was gonna be one of the really integral parts of the show, it was wonderful. Because in a certain way, it felt like I was getting a promotion.

JG: I had met Laray eight years ago when I auditioned and did not get TheSocial Network. And then I was in New York and I put myself on tape with the New York casting director Julie Schubert here. And for anyone that has an audition for Mindhunter, she gave me these tips before I was going, just general David Fincher tips. She said don’t move your forehead.

Don’t move your forehead?

JG: Don’t act with your forehead. Don’t blink, don’t up at the end like this, which I do all the time.

HM: Don’t segment the lines, no segmentation.

JG: Yes, and don’t be …

HM: Get to the end of the thought.

JG: Yeah, don’t be musical. And so I applied that.

HM: And be prepared to do a lot of takes.

JG: Be prepared to do a lot of takes, yeah. And so I applied that to the audition and then flew out to New York on a Monday on a day off and met with David. I had a feeling when I was sitting with him, this feeling of depression sometimes you get when something is really great. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt this before when something really great is happening, something that you’ve dreamt about. And it’s almost like this feeling of sadness, because I felt like this is everything I’ve wanted and now I feel really depressed. Where this is too good to be true, I don’t believe this is happening. I’m in a room with David Fincher, he’s talking about this TV show.

HM: He’s probably gonna hire Justin Timberlake.

JG: Exactly. Exactly.

Tell me about your early interactions with David Fincher and Joe Penhall? What did they say they wanted the show to be and what did they want your performance to be?

CB: Well, David said something that I hoped he’d say, where he wasn’t looking for an impression. I mean, there’s hints of Ed there, there’s more his vibe I was going for and some of his voice. And he said he wasn’t looking for the genius Hannibal Lecter serial killer because it’s not all too accurate. The cinematic one, the sexy one. He couldn’t have got the sexy one out of me.

JG: That is so not true.

CB: Although, there have been some strange fans, I will … One person just wrote, a private message, “You’re a very hot bear.” What a takeaway. They’re watching this show Mindhunter and they’re like, “Yeah, this is …”

Anyway, the importance of this being a regular person, and honestly, the evil, the violent, the monster side of it wasn’t this pretty straightforward stuff. I agreed with him, my focus was more on making him a human being. I think that should be the takeaway from these people. My aunt doesn’t want her daughter to see it because she’s only 14. But at the same time, one of Kemper’s victims was 14. There’s something to be said … I don’t like to put that fear out there, but there’s something to be said about the assumptions we make on someone just because they’re nice, or well-spoken. Of course, we don’t do hitchhiking much anymore. You certainly don’t here anyway. So yeah, that was a lot of the talk, and then after that, there was an incredible amount of freedom that David gave me. He’d have notes on a thought, like this line, “I’d like it to be backed up with arrogance,” or something. But there were no overall notes. “I need Ed to be more this or that.” He just let me play, which it’s what’s so impressive about him. That he’s so in charge and yet you still feel so free.

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AT: We were talking about that last night about the idea of when you say no broad strokes, no overall notes. That he’s got such an incredibly clean mind, that when he gives you a note, it’s so unbelievably specific. And then even the eyebrows and everything, all of that, that’s him going, “I don’t want a distraction until I want it.” I want the story and the people, I wanna be able to see that. And it changes the way, we would say, it’s changed the way I watch things.

HM: And that’s what watching David direct is really like. It’s like watching the director of a symphony orchestra. He’s literally making adjustments to every department simultaneously. Not just the actors, but the camera department is changing, the lights, it’s all moving all simultaneously. And he likes to move at a fast pace. And so you’ve got to commit to that, to that pace, and to that energy, and to that way of working. And be able to make very small adjustments because we’ll do many, many takes. And sometimes, he’ll give a piece of direction which is very precise. And he wants to see the same thing he did last time, except with this precise adjustment. So it does require a lot of concentration.

AT: And every frame, you can pause, you can just stop every frame and it’s just so beautiful. It’s a portrait every time.

HM: And that’s really one of the most exciting things about the project because there’s a lot of television out there right now, but there’s not a lot of television that’s being produced at this level with an extraordinary filmmaker like David at the helm. And just to give credit to all of our friends at Netflix, they’ve been very supportive of the project and of him. And giving him the kind of freedom to create his vision. And I think that’s part of what makes it so good, is it’s not the kind of television by committee that you often see at the networks. This is one filmmaker’s vision. And it’s a very different way of working. And of course, most television is writer-producer-driven. And this is television that is director-driven. And that is also fundamental difference that can’t be ignored.

Jonathan, I’m curious, what were the conversations that you had with David about Holden? What did he say he wanted it to be and where did you then take it from there?

JG: He said this thing also last night at dinner when he was talking to Anna and I about directing: “I’m in a plane looking down at you and you’re in a cornfield and I’m telling you where to walk.” So he likes us to lose ourselves in the moment of the scene, know the lines really well, don’t move your forehead, don’t blink, don’t go up at the end.

HM: No smiling.

AT: He didn’t say I’m telling you how to walk, he said, “And I’m gonna tell you if you’re getting too close to the rocks.”

JG: Right. Yeah. They direct you.

AT: We need to get back into this.

JG: Yeah, that’s wet over there. I see you moving in that direction, but that’s actually an unsafe area to be, why don’t you move over here? And we find the way together. Yeah, actually one of the things that he said to me in the beginning was “Holden has no charm and no self-awareness whatsoever …”

AT: That is so brilliant.

JG: “… And you as Jonathan are a very smiley … You’re an actor, so you’re always trying to desperately be charming. And you have that needy thing that we all have for people to love us. And Holden doesn’t have that, he’s nerdy.” And so he said this thing to me at the very beginning that is a very small technical thing but has completely changed the way I am even in certain ways. He said, “You smile. Even when you don’t think you’re smiling, you’re smiling.” And I was like, “What? Am I smiling right now?”

And so it took a long time, but he does this with all of us. He finds these little technical things. That’s why one of the reasons working with him is such a life-changing experience where we would be about to roll on the scene or we’d be about to start shooting the scene and be like, “Okay, and we’re rolling. And Jonathan stop smiling, and you’re still smiling, and you’re still smiling, and okay, action.” And then I would eventually get there. But when I watch the show back, I did not recognize myself. And I saw how, via him and the plane looking down at me in the cornfield, I saw how he calibrated so expertly every one of our performances. I mean, we give him everything we can give him on the day, and then he goes into the editing room and makes these subtle adjustments. And ultimately, it’s him who’s picking the coverage, and who we’re watching, and whatever. It was a master class being on set, and acting, and being pushed in the way that he pushes you, and doing the amazing material with these guys. And then it was a master class watching it and going, “Wow, that is how he put it together and that is the piece of art he created in the end.”

CB: I don’t know if it was intentional or what, I didn’t know I was doing it, but I recently watched, someone sent me something. You’re gotta see this, someone put together the editing of Mindhunter, this cool link. And it covered how they edited it and what story you’re telling by cutting to this person. And the person narrating said every time that Kemper mentions his mother, his mouth tightens. I had no idea I was doing that, I don’t know if David knew I was doing that or if …

AT: He would’ve seen it.

CB: It was something else.

Tell me about shooting the interview scenes with Ed. Was there some kind of guiding philosophy when you were going into those scenes, how you were gonna make them interesting, how you were gonna make sure they don’t get redundant? How were you approaching it?

CB: I don’t remember too much conversation outside of the cool structure … Usually before we were even dressed up, done our hair and makeup or anything, we’d come in in the morning and run the scene until Fincher felt it was where it needed to be. And then we get to process those notes while we go get hair and makeup done and they set up the cameras and everything. They were very private rehearsals, but I’m sorry, I don’t really remember …

HM: Well, the key to what Cameron just said is the word rehearsal. We do a lot of it, and we did a lot of it before we ever began filming. We would do private rehearsals with David in which we just go through the scripts. Every new episode. We sit around a long table, we go line by line through the script, talk about whether the line is necessary, how can it be improved, what does the scene mean in different terms of the overall journey of the character, what’s going on … And then, when we get on set, then we do an hour’s rehearsal just with David, and our DP, and the actors, until we all really feel … So this is something that’s a lot more rare than it should be in television. Normally, in TV, they just don’t give you any rehearsal. Not simply an insufficient amount of rehearsal, they don’t even put it into the schedule. Everything is about shoot time, and sadly, mostly directors aren’t really empowered on TV sets. They wanna shoot the call sheet, they wanna get the day, they don’t wanna go over schedule, they wanna get invited back. And so to have somebody who says, “No, we’re gonna take our time here. As long as we need until the scene is as good as it can possibly be, and then we’ll shoot it.

CB: And I doubt I will ever see a quicker turnaround between cut and action. It’s cut, and then there’s a little note thrown in from video village, and then rolling, and then action. You are in it all day. And especially in a scene where you’re just sitting in a chair. I remember the prop master trying to put my shackles on to start the scene over and Fincher would say, “Rolling” and he’d go, “Rolling. Fucking rolling?” And then dive out of the way of the shot. I’ve never done that in my life, I’ve never just woken up, had breakfast and then acted until I went to sleep.

HM: Right. And my character smokes in the show. Even the time to reset the cigarette. It has to be the same length as in the previous take because we move really, really fast. But that’s why we’re able to do so many takes and that’s why when he gets into the editing room he has so many choices. And then the other part of that is working on the interview scenes specifically, is that they’re very long scenes. Some of them are 10-, 12-page scenes or longer. And that’s so rare that that’s when it begins to feel like theater, when you’re doing these long scenes. And he’ll let them run all the way through. And then it’ll be another setup, a new angle, and maybe takes. So you get so comfortable in them, you do them so many times you start to make discoveries. And the thing just starts to improve, and gel, and come together until he finally gets what he wants.

Jonathan, how did you approach doing the interview scenes? You have to really be a key component of that over, and over, and over again throughout the series.

JG: It was different with every one. And I remember with the Ed Kemper scene, one of the things that I heard David say … Because the first interview with Ed Kemper happens almost halfway through the second episode. And in most TV shows, it would happen in halfway through the first episode. This is the show where they interview serial killers, but it was really important to them to slowly build the story. And you see how the term “serial killer,” the idea of talking to serial killers, the behavioral science unit at the FBI, it’s a huge thing that happens, a huge journey that happens throughout the course of the first season. And so when they were tracking that journey and Ed is the first person they talk to, I remember David, first of all, wanting to have that full, long setup where we meet [points to McCallany], the road school … And then we get to Ed Kemper and it’s like beginner’s luck. We meet a guy who’s a serial killer who’s dying to talk about everything he did, and his motivations, and his mother, and his backstory, and everything. So the Ed Kemper interview was all about the absolute perfect person at the absolute perfect time for the characters to go, “Whoa, this is actually really worthwhile.”

And then we give the transcript to her [points to Torv], and he [points to McCallany] gets convinced, and then it starts to build. And then from there, each interview is slightly different. So Jerry Brudos, he’s a total asshole and won’t talk to us. And so we have to figure out a way to get him to talk, and we end up going to him and talking to him in the third person. And that’s how we get him to open up. And then you’ve got Richard Speck, who’s surly and crazy. And so then suddenly I’m talking to him about words that I promised I wouldn’t say on this panel.

But I remember in the sides, because the ten scripts were written, basically. They changed a lot, but they were written before we started. So [then there’s] that fun element of the character of Holden [starting to mirror] the serial killers to get them to open up. And so then each interview starts to become about, “Okay, they’re not all Ed Kemper, so how do we get them to open up and when does Tench have more of an impact on opening up with Monte Rissell. Being tough on him is actually the thing that gets him to open up because he fights back. And then the scene with Gene Devier, who is the guy that kills the 14-year-old majorette girl in Georgia. With him, it’s putting the rock in front of him, which is based on John Douglas’s real story, the idea of putting the rock … So then every interview becomes about a totally different way of getting someone to open up, and the staging of the interview, and the way we act is different in every one because it’s a different psychology in each scene.

Cameron, I heard that you used to be a preschool teacher.

CB: Yeah, for eight years, I taught special-needs preschool for 18 months to 3-year-olds. It’s what I was gonna do with my career for a while, and then I got a little burnt out. I probably did it as long as anyone. I’ve seen a lot of teachers come and go and you do three or four years and it’s exhausting. I realized I was just supplementing entertaining kids for entertaining audiences, so I had to be honest with myself and get back into acting outside of just doing theater with my friends. I can tell you something very strange. Part of teaching preschool helped me with Ed, to be honest.

So you have 15 kids a day, and some days are blessings, and they’re just the joy of life because it’s a preschool, like you’d imagine. But there are days with children with autism where it just breaks down and their impulses can get really intense. And everyone’s looking to you as the teacher. You can’t break or you lose the room. So I started slowly learning how to train myself to just cut all emotions out and just get rid of them entirely so I could be this serene, pleasant … Some days were pretty wild, but everyone had to look to you. And that was interesting because it wasn’t like I was sad or anything, but after three hours of that, class would end. And I’d go into the bathroom or something and tears would just well, because you let your emotions come back. And now, they’re flooding out because they’ve been blocked. And that started becoming a mechanism, almost a physical thing to be able to cut your emotions out. So when it came to playing Ed, it was actually really helpful. I would never have thought that those two things would complement the other.

Have you heard from any parents of kids that have seen the show?

CB: Yeah. I’ll have friends who work there and they say new teachers go, “The guy who played Ed Kemper was a teacher here.” They do not believe it, they go, “I actually don’t believe you. I don’t see how that works.” The other parents, I tried not to be Facebook friends with parents, but a few of them, you get an attachment to. There’s one girl who I was still babysitting while we were working on Kemper. So that mom was an industry type, so she wasn’t creeped out or anything. But I do like to think about one day these kids will grow up and their parents go, “You see that guy? That was your babysitter. That was your preschool teacher.”

For all of you, do you find after having working on the show, do you find yourself profiling people? Do you break people down in a way now because you’ve had to think about that and get in that mindset so much?

JG: My thing was everyone said to me after they’d watch the show that they thought my character was a sociopath. And I had no idea. And people would say … and so many of my friends were texting me, “So when are you gonna start killing people?” I was like, “I thought I was playing an everyman.” I was playing a sociopath.

I think that the thing that they’re aligning when they think that Holden is a sociopath, that I think is very similar between … That we start to see more and more in our characters is this characteristic of narcissism and becoming self-obsessed. And it was one of the things about the serial killers sitting there and waxing philosophical about they’d done. And that need to have credit, and be in the press, and all of that. And that starts to find its way into us at the FBI. It’s my favorite character turns for the three of us, at the end of the season when it starts to get a little tense at the unit and you start to see the narcissists come out, particularly in my character, but it starts to come out in the three of us. “Who invented this, who’s taking credit for what?” And that idea of we were all in the room when “serial killer” was invented, but I’m gonna take credit for it. I was the one that did this, and I was the one that brought that. And I think it’s that quality of narcissism that we’re seeing in Holden that makes an appearance that he is a sociopath. Or maybe I’m just a sociopath and I have no idea.

That’s exactly what a sociopath would say.

AT: But that’s the bit that I think is interesting, we talk about that then start to look at the line that not everyone’s into Ed Kemper. You can still have the personality bias. And it effects you in your workplace, and so with that, the statistics are … There’s a book called The Sociopath Next Door, and it was written not that long ago, and I think it was something like 25 out of every 100 Americans are.

Wow, you really did a lot of reading up for the part. You’d be surprised, I interview a lot of actors, and sometimes they’ll walk into something and just go, “Yeah, I memorized my lines, I did it, whatever. I got out.” But it sounds like you really went the extra mile to try and …

HM: Well, it’s a fascinating subject.

It is. It’s hard to live with, though.

AT: This is really weird because I read that after the show, after I finished filming. When I did it, there was this disconnect we’ve talked about. I felt it was too much. I remember getting cast and then having a bit of panic, going, “What is this? Do I wanna look at this?” And then I looked up some of the real people, and it was truly … I get sweaty palms even thinking about, if I’m honest. And then I went, “I’m not gonna think about this when I’m not on set.” And set’s a different thing because you do it so much that there’s a desensitization that comes to it. And then when the show finished, I don’t know why, I got fascinated with the disorders in normal people. And I read The Sociopath Next Door. I read The Puzzling Mind of a Psychopath, which is really, really interesting.

HM: There’s always a lot of research to do also because it’s a period piece. So we’re set in the late 1970s, it’s a different political context. You also have the fact that criminal profiling was really in its infancy and trying to figure out exactly how these guys do what they do. And then each of the killers is very different and they’re each fascinating in different ways. And so you wanna research who they are, how they committed their crimes, what makes them different from previous killers that we’ve interviewed. And it never stops. Every new episode, we have new characters and we use the real killers. We use the real stories of the real killers, and the real crimes. So it’s a lot of research.

I’m curious, why do you think Tench sticks with Holden? Holden’s such a difficult person to work with. It’s just fascinating to watch their dynamic. Why do you think he sticks with him?

HM: When I first got offered the role, I remember getting an email from David in which he shared with me some of his thoughts about my character, and where he was in his life. He’s a guy that had a failing marriage, that had a lot of problems raising his adopted son who’s troubled. He was a guy who’s not really interested in the politics of the FBI and the brown nosing that you have to do in order to get promoted. He didn’t want to engage in any of that and so he had run away. He teaches road school, gives classes to local law enforcement about the latest FBI investigative techniques, plays golf. And then he gets assigned a new partner. And what he comes to understand is that this young man has really hit upon an innovation that could be very useful to law enforcement.

Even though a behavioral science was in its infancy in the period that we discussed in the show, it has now become the biggest part of what the bureau does. So that’s why, because I often thought of Bill as a guy who was floundering in a certain way because he had forgotten why it was important to him to be an FBI agent. And he was going through the motions, and then when Holden comes into his life, he rekindles my excitement for the work and reminds me why it was that I always wanted to do this job.

Jonathan, I’m curious, there was more sex in the show than I was expecting. And we see a lot of Holden’s love life. I’m not saying this to be prurient or anything, but I’m curious. How did you think about Holden’s approach to sex, and intimacy and relationships?

JG: It was one of the things I was most excited about exploring on the show because it was interesting to me that this guy who is kind of buttoned-up, conservative, Mormon-like, very inexperienced, maybe a virgin, maybe not. It’s hard to tell, he seems like a virgin even though he says he’s not and he has his coming of age talking to psychosexual sadists and killers. And the sexual component of their murders is such a huge part of it. And at the same time, or even before that, he meets this girl that kind of blows his mind sexually and in a way that he never knew about before or anticipated. And there’s even that scene where I go to the FBI, because it is the late ‘70s, and blow jobs and oral sex are on the deviant list of words that shouldn’t be allowed. And I go on and I’m like, “I think we should take some of these off the bad word list because this girl’s gonna blow my mind. It’s actually really great.”

While at the same time, talking to these men who do these horrible things to get off. Ultimately, for a lot of them, it’s about ejaculation and … putting your desire to get off over someone’s heart beating is such a chilling and horrifying thing. And so he’s having this sexual excitement while he’s talking to this girl. So that dynamic was really interesting to me and the development of that. There’s this scene with Debbie where she’s filing her nails in the bathroom and we come out, and she does this thing. And that dynamic of sexual play between a man and women was really interesting to me. And then at the same time, in the eighth episode, it’s Jerry Brudos and he masturbates into shoes. And she sees Holden eyeing up these shoes at this store and she thinks, “He really wants me to wear these shoes.” And so I’m thinking of Jerry Brudos, how we’re gonna get him to open up, and she’s thinking, “I’m gonna really blow his mind tonight when he gets home when I’m wearing these shoes.” And she surprises me by wearing these shoes. And it’s the first time, the character has been so good at compartmentalizing everything and whatever. And that is the first time, suddenly Jerry Brudos has been brought into his personal sex life.

And that’s the first moment it starts to wear on him. And so the sexual component of his relationship was happening at the same time of the sexual exploration of these killers. And I was really excited to explore those things. And I was happy with how it came out at the end of the show as part of the character arc.

I wanna turn it over to the audience for some Q&A.

Audience member 1: When is season two happening?

HM: I don’t think that season two will be on until sometime in 2019. We’re actually in the process of shooting it right now, but we’re still in episode one.

Audience member 2: What did you think of the cold opens with the mysterious man?

HM: Are you talking about the scenes with BTK? To be honest, I think that this was an idea that came to David later in the season when we were shooting. And he decided to add that. And the actor who plays Dennis Rader, Sonny Valicenti. He’s a really, really talented guy and has really captured the attention of the audience much in the way that our good friend Cameron Britton did. Rader is a really complex character, too, and a guy that eluded authorities for 30 years, and committed his first murder in ‘74 and wasn’t arrested until 2005. So it was the longest period that a guy was ever at large, and huge breaks in between when he would commit murders. So fascinating character. I think we may see more of him. I don’t know.

Audience member 3: Jonathon and Holt, I’m just wondering, your characters’ relationship is one of the weirdest things I’ve seen. And it’s like this twilight zone between buddy and enemy. And I’m just wondering how you get to that place?

HM: We’ve seen in a lot of movies, this older cop, younger cop dynamic. It’s an archetype in Hollywood, even in a move like Seven, which is one of David’s movies also dealing with this genre. You saw Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt. In Dennis Hopper’s movie Colors, it’s Robert Duvall and Sean Penn; or in Training Day, it’s Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke. But the trick in my opinion is to not to try to borrow anything from a previous incarnations of this dynamic and to find what’s real, and natural and organic in this relationship. And even though Jonathan and I are very different, we found that we had tremendous chemistry as actors. And he’s a superbly talented actor, so we played off each other in a wonderful way. And what we found was humor. And I thought that that was really something that was important to mine because it’s a nice juxtaposition with the scenes with the serial killers, which are so dark, and grizzly, and graphic, and in many ways unsettling, as Cameron said. So to find some humor in the relationship between the two agents I thought was a nice counterbalance to that. So we looked for those moments.

Audience member 4: My question is for Anna because one of the things I think is really interesting about the show … and we were talking about sexuality and stuff before. One of the things that I think is interesting that goes unspoken is that a gay person probably wouldn’t have gotten security clearance in the 1970s from the FBI.

AT: We’re set in ‘79 and it was only a couple of year before that it was taken off the mental illness list.

Audience member 4: So I’m interested in your take on what the fact that she’s keeping this secret, in a sense, about her sexuality. Even if it’s just a secret of ommission, and how that relates to her attachment to her work?

AT: I think completely and then also not all. At the same time because that’s just the way of life, that’s how it was. But I loved that it was not spoken and I loved that the only little mention of it you get is when she’s talking to her girlfriend. And she’s like, “What? You’ve told them?” And she said, “Of course I haven’t told. It’s not even a discussion.” But it’s that and there’s little moments of it which she reacts quite strongly to the Brudos stuff. And there was one little line that you don’t know that she’s a lesbian at that point, I don’t think. But there’s one little thing where they’re talking about cross-dressing and Holden’s gone in with the shoe.

And she’s like, “That is not an antecedent to criminal behavior. It has been happening in every culture, in every city since the dawn of time and it does not make it deviant. We need to absolutely have a distinction.” And I remember doing that and going, “I don’t know if people will remember,” because I certainly knew why I was saying it, but I think it’s not for another couple of episodes that you [make the connection].

Audience member 4: There’s a lot of [true] crime shows [right now]. I was wondering as a part of this genre if you guys had any musings as to why they’re so popular?

JG: The month that our show came out in October of last year, that horrible Vegas shooting happened.

HM: Stephen Paddock, right? Killed all those people in Las Vegas.

JG: And it was just such a horrifying and chilling thing to see how relevant it is, to try and explore the idea of why. And I don’t think they ever have figured out why, with him in particular, the motivation. What is that? Why did that person do that? But I think with our show, I can’t speak for the other crime shows, but certainly, that’s the question we’re asking in this. And can you have empathy for people that are so below our contempt, you shouldn’t have time for them because they’re deplorable human beings and what they’ve done is unforgivable. But the idea of asking the question of why and using empathy as a tool to perhaps, in some way, understand why, or in some way to prevent it from happening again I think is just a noble human idea. Something that we’re all striving for.

HM: When that incident happened, the one that Jonathan is referencing, I called John Douglas who wrote the book Mindhunter. And I said to him, “John, if you were on the ground in Las Vegas right now and investigating this case, what were the questions that you would be asking?” And he had some interesting things to say. He said first of all, why did he choose those people? What did that group of people represent to him? What were the things that were going on in his life that led him to this moment where he stopped fantasizing about this kind of an act and actually committed it. Usually there’s a trigger. There’s something specific that happened that set him off. What was that? It might’ve been a fight with his wife, maybe he got fired from work. But generally, there is a triggering event. So trying to find that series of things that takes a guy from being … Because he was a man in his 60s. So why does a guy all of a sudden at that age wake up and decide to commit mass murder? And I think that’s why audiences find it so fascinating. It’s because they wanna know, too. Those people are so different than us, how did they become the way they are.

JG: And I think the bleak message of the show is that we’ll never really know. And we can try to understand and try to prevent things from happening, but evil just exists.

#jonathan groff #holt mccallany #anna torv #cameron britton #mindhunter #vulture festival #interview

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