#had a whole compartment to myself

[dianawinchester03]

Season 3, Episode 7 - Fresh Blood

Series Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

Why in the fuck shit does my boyfriend have a goddamn ring in his glove compartment?

Does this motherfucker think I’m that stupid? ‘iTs FrOm A cAsE’ MY ASS.

My mind raced with the possibilities as to why Dean decided to feed me that bullshit of an excuse last week. I mean, we’ve been together what? 3 months? When in that period of time did he get to possibly purchase a ring? We’ve been joined at fucking asscheeks since then. Hell, we’ve been joined at asscheeks our whole lives.

Even when I ran away from home, we didn’t go a week without talking. Our conversations would range from “hey princess, your dad and i are coming up south so head back east” to “dude i miss you like crazy, might be in st. louis the rest of the week, team up?”

Holy shit, how did I not see he liked me before???

Besides the point, WHY THE FUCK DOES HE HAVE A GODDAMN RING?!?! I wanna ask, I wanna ask so fucking bad, but I might have to pry his cute little head open with a crowbar, reach in and get the answer out myself because my man is like a fucking Venus flytrap sometimes, which is funny seeing as he doesn’t know how to shut his cute stupid mouth.

God I love him.

WHY DOES HE HAVE AN ENGAGEMENT RING AHHHHHH!!!

This is what I ponder as I snuggle with my loving snoring bastard, my left hand tracing lines going up and down his spine to soothe his body. His head resting snug on my chest, lips parted and his mouth slightly agape with his left hand tucked away in my right boob, gripping it like a stress ball and his right hand tucked under his pillow, cradling his pistol.

This, everybody, is what dating Dean friggin’ Winchester looks like.

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Somewhere in the US

•One Week Later

Y/N furrowed her brows as she hung up the phone in the back of the Impala, her fathers machete and flashlight in one hand as she stuffed her phone into her pocket. “Who was that?” Sam asked curiously as he sharpened his machete in the passenger seat. “Bela. Called to say thanks for saving her” she scoffed, “Bela said thanks?” Sam asked surprised. “That cold bitch actually had a change of heart?” Dean chimed in from the driver's seat, stuffing his mouth with the last of his burger.

Y/N shrugged in response before sighing, “Guess people can change” she muttered but she was still unconvinced. Sam frowned before creasing his lips in a way to say, ‘I guess’ as Dean slurped his slushie. Sam fished out his phone to quickly text Jo. She parted ways with them a few days after the last hunt to track a pack of werewolves in Arizona.

‘Gonna hunt the sloppy vamp, track the nest and take ‘em out. Call you when it’s over’

A few seconds later, he got a reply, ‘Please careful, I love you’

Sam felt her last words pierce through his heart as his fingers lingered on the screen. He hated leaving her, he hated not knowing if she’s safe. But knowing she could take care of herself was what made him feel the slightest bit better. So instead, Sam smiled to himself before shooting her back a sweet text and turning his attention back to his Dean as he began to clean up his trash.

“You good, little brother?” Dean asked, noticing his silence as he twisted around to look at him. Sam nodded, forcing a small smirk. “I’m managing” He responded bluntly as Dean nodded in return. Y/N remained unfazed as she checked that her butterfly knife was still inside her boot.

“She’ll be fine, Sammy��� Y/N assured him as she stuck her machete into the covering and then into her thigh holster. Sam exhaled deeply, his eyes glued to the window. “Yeah, I know” he muttered, fidgeting with the silver bracelet on his wrist his girlfriend gifted him as an early Christmas gift. It was well into November but she still got it for him in the case they didn’t get to see each other during Christmas.

-

A little later, the trio made their way down an alley, shining their flashlights about. Once bending the corner, they spotted a pool of blood. The three shared a look, cautious approaching it, only to find a man bleeding profusely on the floor, a bite wound to his neck. The man looked up at them with tired frightened eyes. “Please,” he begged hoarsely, “Please help me.”

They all jumped into action, crouching down over him. “Hey, hey. Don't worry. We're gonna call you some help, okay?” Sam assured the man as Y/N peeled off her leather jacket, handing it to Sam and then her dark grey flannel, pressing the soft material to the man’s wound as Dean shone his light around the alleyway. The alley seemed to go on and on, no sign of a vampire, she couldn’t have possibly gotten far if this poor sap was still alive.

“I don’t see anything,” Dean muttered as he stood. “There’s nothing around here” Y/N observed, placing her palm on the man’s cheek to elevate his head, “Sir, try to stay conscious, alright? An ambulance is on the way.” She said softly, he nodded weakly. “Where is she? Where'd she go?!” Dean asked the man a bit harshly, referring to the vampire they’d been tracking.

The dying man gestured down the alleyway to the opposite direction with a shaky, bloody hand. Dean followed his line of vision, seeing a long and creepy abandoned parking garage up ahead. “That way” he mumbled to himself and the others. Sam looked into the alleyway before looking at his older brother with a nod. A silent agreement between the three occurred in that split second, Sam and Y/N opting to stay with the man while Dean ran after the vamp.

“Be safe” Y/N said firmly to her boyfriend, fixing him a sharp warning look as she held the man’s head up. Written behind her eyes was, ‘Don’t do anything reckless’ He shot her a wink as he drew out his machete, headed down the alley. “Ditto. I love you”

Y/N continued holding the man up, making sure he was still conscious, she bit her lip as her worried eyes followed her boyfriend down the alley.

“Ditto” She mumbled to herself, feeling that maybe she should have gone with him instead of staying behind. Sam leaned in close to her. “He’ll be fine, it’s Dean” he assured her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, sensing her stress. She snapped out of her thoughts, nodding at his words. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about”

Sam instantly caught on, understanding what she meant. Dean grew more and more reckless as the days went on. The duo constantly in a pit of worry if this was the day Dean was gonna kick the bucket due to riling up the wrong person before his time, before they could save him.

Meanwhile, the air grew colder the further down the alley Dean went cautiously. He walked down the first row of cars when he noticed blood splattered across the graffiti on the walls, raising his machete once he met a dead end. His instincts told him that the vampire was still around, just hiding in plain sight.

Dean’s eyes darted constantly, expecting the vampire to jump out and attack him at any second, his flashlight pointing to every inch of the area. He suddenly stopped, tilting his head to hear the sound of something shuffling in the distance. He cautiously began walking towards the sound, gripping his machete a little tighter.

An idea popped in his head, he pulled up the sleeve of his leather jacket, leaving his forearm bare. He then brought the blade of the machete against it and slid it downwards. He grunted heavily in pain at the deep cut in his left arm. Blood oozed out of the clean cut, running down his arm and he held in a hiss, wincing a bit. Dean’s blood dripped to the concrete floor as he bellowed, “Smell that?! Come and get it!!”

A blonde young woman emerged from a side alley and stared at him, her chin covered in blood as she bared her fangs at him. “That's right. Come on.” Dean smirked “I smell good, don't I? I taste even better.” He lured her, using his words. She snarled, eyeing his machete cautiously. Dean held it up, a dark look in his eyes as he toyed with it between his fingers. With a smirk, he discarded it to the ground. The machete clattering.

The vampire’s eyes flickered between the blade and the hunter, trying to figure out if she should attack or not. “Come on! Free lunch!” he baited her further with a confident look, walking forward. The vampire lunged at Dean instantaneously, aiming for his neck with his fangs. She grabbed him by his shoulders and barely nicked his neck since he pulled out a syringe of dead man’s blood from his jacket, sticking the needle into her neck and emptying the contents into her veins.

The vampire stumbled off him with an outraged squeal, coughing and grasping her neck in horror, before collapsing onto the ground unconscious. Dean panted heavily, a look of sick excitement on his veins. “Whoo!” he exclaimed, his blood pumping. Sam and Y/N came running in, stumbling upon Dean and the girl. The duo looked down at the unconscious vampire and back up at Dean, the younger Winchester frowning at his brother while Y/N looked at Dean with utter distaste.

The oldest of the trio rolled his shoulders, looking at the two with a cocky smirk on his face. “What?” he asked before being met with two pairs of disapproving eyes. “Cutting it a little close, don't you think?” Sam’s worried voice started but Dean waved it off. “Ah ... that's just chum in the water. Worked, didn't it?” He assured them, clutching his arm. “Yeah.” Y/N agreed, but her voice was harsh, like she was scolding him.

She wanted to scream at him but now was not the time, so she marched over to him and took his wounded arm into her hands. “Nothin’ a little bit of your healing balm can’t fix, right?” He smirked. Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line, giving him a flat look as he chuckled at her and Sam’s expressions. They were not amused, in fact they looked both irritated and frustrated with him.

-

The next day, the three were in their motel room. A bit dingier than what they would usually occupy, the walls of the room were lined up with old mattresses, blocking any external sunlight. The young vampire, whose face was still covered with blood, was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Sam, Dean and Y/N stood over her chair. She was still unconscious but stirring as it looked like she was going to wake up soon. Her limbs were bound to the arms of the chair, her ankles tied to the legs.

Y/N had a cup of cold water, drinking from it while Dean and Sam stood in front of her, looking at the vampire with stern faces as she started to wake up. They heard her groan in pain. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to open them. Y/N grew tired waiting and tossed the water into the vamp’s face. Dean and Sam snickered in amusement as the vampire woke up with a gasp, her head shooting up.

The water ran down her skin as she looked up at the three with surprised eyes. “You with us, sweetheart?” Y/N quipped harshly, leaning down towards her. The vampire flinched back, now realizing she was tied up, groaning as she tried to flail around to free herself but there was no use. “Oh, yeah, sorry. You're not going anywhere.” Dean added with a smirk. “Wha-” She gasped in fear, struggling.

“Where's your nest?” Sam demanded in a stiff tone. The vampire looked up at Sam in pure confusion, “What?” She said again, panting. “Your nest! Where you and your bloodsucking pals hang out.” Dean demanded also as Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't know what you're talking about. Please! I don't feel good.” The vampire pleaded genuinely. The trio shared unconvinced and tired looks, rolling their eyes simultaneously.

Y/N took out a syringe from her jacket, handing it to her boyfriend. “Yeah, well, you're gonna feel a hell of a lot worse if we give you another shot of dead man's blood.” Dean said with a smirk, taking the syringe and twirling it between his fingers. The vampire physically recoiled, shaking her head. “Just let me go,” she pleaded. Sam scoffed a laugh, “Yeah, you know we can’t do that” He chuckled. “I’m telling you the truth. I'm just... I took something. I'm freaking out! I don't know what's going on!”

The three furrowed their brows, confused. They didn’t know if the vampire was just a good actress or genuinely not aware. Y/N refused to believe it, going against her better instincts. Wanting to stick with the fact that all vampires are scum. “We’re not letting you go,” Y/N stated firmly. The vampire's eyes were blown wide, now looking desperate. “Please just- you gotta help me.” She pleaded. “You took something?” Sam asked, circling her chair as Dean placed the syringe down on the table.

“Yes! I can't... come down. I just want to come down.” The vampire freaked out, genuine fear in her eyes. Okay, maybe she was telling the truth. Y/N thought to herself as she and Sam shared a weary look. “What’s your name?” Y/N asked, propping herself on the table besides Dean. “Lucy. Please. Just let me go.” The vampire answered, begging. “All right, Lucy, how about this? If you tell us what happened, we'll let you go.” Sam proposed as he leaned down, Dean and Y/N’s eyes shot over to Sam with eyes that said, ‘The fuck you mean let her go?’

“You will?” Lucy asked hopefully, looking over at the couple, Dean nodding and smiling in a completely insincere way. Y/N gulped down her guilt at the false hope they just gave her, knowing they couldn’t possibly let this vampire go as she rolled her head to the side and cracked her neck. The couple shot Sam a confused look over Lucy’s head as she tried to piece the event together. “Uh, I don't really... um, it's, it's not that clear. Uh, I was at Spider.”

“Spider?” Y/N asked, raising a brow. “The club, on Jefferson. And there was this guy... he was buying me drinks.” Lucy clarified. “This guy... what's he look like?” Sam asked as he pulled a chair, straddling it. “Uh…He was old, like thirty….” Lucy shook her head as she tried to remember. The trio nearly flinched at the way Lucy said ‘thirty’ was ‘old’ all of them quite literally nearing their thirties. “He had brown hair, a leather jacket... uh, Deacon or Dixon or something. Said he was a dealer... he had something for me.”

“Something?” Dean asked, moving from beside his girlfriend to circle the chair. “Something new. "Better than anything you've ever tried." He put a few drops in my drink.” The pieces began to come together in their heads, glancing at each other once more before Y/N asked, “Was the drug red and thick?” Lucy nodded shakily. Dean clapped his tongue, “Well, genius move there.” shooting his baby brother a look, the younger Winchester shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was vampire blood he dosed you with.” Dean stated, looking back down at the vampire, who’s head snapped over to Dean. “What?!” Her eyes filled with bewilderment. “Yeah, you just took a big steamin' shot of the nastiest virus out there.” Dean mused, “You're crazy! He gave me roofies or something!” Lucy denied it as Dean pursed his lips. Her head shot back over to Sam and Y/N. “No... The next thing I know, we're at his place, and he says he's gonna get me something to eat, just wait.”

The two looked at her with sympathy, their hearts giving for this poor unsuspecting girl. “But I get so hungry.” Lucy emphasized, her eyes filled with tears. “So you busted out?” Sam asked knowingly. “But it won't wear off... whatever he gave me?” Lucy nodded. “Lights are too bright? Sunshine hurt your skin?” Y/N asked knowingly, trying to push aside her sympathy, reminding herself that Lucy was still a literal monster who killed innocent people because of her urges. “Yeah... And smells. And I can... hear blood pumping!” Lucy cried.

“Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but your blood's never pumping again.” Dean stated as he moved back around her chair, standing beside Y/N. Lucy shook her head, “Not mine... yours. I can hear a heart beating from half a block away. I just want it to stop.” That was enough for Sam and Y/N, the latter unable to swallow her sympathy any longer. The pure desperation in Lucy’s voice broke their hearts.

“All right, listen, Wavy Gravy.” Dean began sharply, leaning down to speak to Lucy, propping his hands on his knees. “It's not going to stop. You've already killed two people, almost three.” He informed her, Lucy began sobbing even more, shaking her head relentlessly. “No, I couldn't. No-! I was hallucinating!” Y/N tore her eyes away from Lucy, the internal battle between monster and innocent victim riding her conscious. “You killed them, all right? We've been following a sloppy trail of corpses, and it leads straight to you.” Y/N stated firmly.

“No. No, it wasn't real! It was the drug! Please! Please, you have to help me!” Lucy panted with them desperately. Sam glanced over at his brother and best friend, jerking his head in indication for them to step out of the room. The three walked out of the room, leaving the door open and an inconsolable Lucy tied to the chair.

Sam shook his head, “Poor girl” he sighed. “This is insane.” Y/N muttered, rubbing her forehead and her hand over her mouth. “We don’t have a choice” Dean said to them, him and his brother glancing over at the vampire. Sam sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t bring himself to kill this girl himself but she had to die or else more lives would be at risk. Y/N felt bad too, but she knew it had to be done.

The look of absolute helplessness on Lucy’s face was tragic, but the fact that she killed two people was unforgivable. She could almost hear her father in her head, ‘She’s a monster. A victim too but she’s a danger’ not to mention, a goddamn vampire took him from this earth too soon. Her eyes darkened in Lucy’s direction as Dean took his machete out of his jacket, he opted to do it when he saw the defeated look on his brother’s face.

“I’ll do it” She suddenly said, stopping Dean by gently gripping his bicep. The brothers looked at her with surprise, not expecting her to offer. “You sure?” Dean murmured as Y/N nodded firmly in response. She stepped into the room, glaring at Lucy while the battle in her head continued. The vampire looked at her with hope she was going to untie her, the hope diminishing when the Hunter took out her father’s machete from her thigh holster.

“No…please!” Lucy pleaded with her. Y/N gripped the machete tightly, her eyes hardening, no longer seeing the girl but rather the monster in the chair. She drew her arm back, flicking the machete. The brothers looked on as Lucy’s screams filled the room, their hearts filling heavy in their chest. Dean’s face remained expressionless but the look in Y/N’s eyes were dark, unblinking and cold when she took off the vampire’s head with one fell swoop. Sam flinched and grimaced as Lucy’s head fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

-

Later that night, the trio exited a crowded club with neon red lights named Spider, the one Lucy told them about. All looking equally frustrated. “That was a big, fat waste of time.” Dean grumbled as they entered the crowded area with people drinking. “Look, three blondes have gone missing, including Lucy, all last sighted here. I'm telling you, guys, this is the hunting ground.” Sam stated, Y/N clutched her jacket to her chest at the mention of Lucy. She had to remind herself that what she did was right, although the sick feeling she got when she killed her didn’t feel so.

While Sam spoke, across the way, Dean spotted a 30-something man duck into an alley with his arm around a young blonde. “Hey” he pointed them out to Sam and Y/N. They watched them disappear into the dark alley, the trio following them. When they got into the alley, they spotted the guy with his hands on the woman, her blonde hair falling down her back as he lifted a dropper filled with red liquid to her tongue. Y/N’s eyes widened, “Oh no, this ain't good.” Dean said as they hurried over to them.

Before any could drop to her tongue, Dean snatched the man’s arm. Pulls it down and then clocks him in his face. Y/N and Sam quickly grabbed the terrified girl, “Get out of here, sweetie. Go! Go!” Y/N urged her. The girl nodded, stumbling over her feet as she ran down the alley back to the club for safety. Y/N and Sam turned their attention over to Dean, who was now getting hurled into the wall by the vampire before he ran for his life.

“Dean!” “Charming!” Sam and Y/N rushed over to help Dean up. “I'm good. Come on.” Dean assumed them, groaning in the process. They nodded hesitantly and took off after the vampire, as they hurtled around the corner, the vampire was nowhere in sight. But facing them, guns at their sides, familiar faces they didn’t want to see at all at this time. Gordon Walker and his friend Kubrick.

The trio were startled, almost freezing in their path until Gordon and Kubrick advanced toward them, guns raised. Both firing freely. Instantly, they dove behind parked cars, shielding their heads, windows shattering in the process and bullets whizzed past. They managed to avoid getting shot entirely, now crouching behind a wall, panting. “Fuck,” Y/N cursed under her breath, cursing herself for not bringing her gun. The one time she doesn’t bring a gun because it was a vamp case, they get shot at.

Dean peered beside the wall to see Gordon and Kubrick reloading, resuming their guns at them. “All right. Run. I'll draw them off.” Dean grunted, pushing himself forward. Sam and Y/N’s eyes widened with fear and bewilderment, “What?! No, you’re crazy!” Sam shouted, “Are you a fucking idiot?!” Y/N screamed at the same time. Their words went into one ear and out the next.

Dean darted out into the line of fire, leapt on top of a car, luckily dodging bullets as they whizzed past him in the process and used it to get over a second-story parking lot entrance. “God damn it, Dean!” Y/N cursed, her heart beating out of her chest and her eyes glued to her boyfriend as he ran. Kubrick followed him as Gordon stayed behind and slowly crept to the corner where Sam and Y/N were hiding.

Luckily, they were gone by the time he rounded the corner when a figure leapt down on him from above, sending him sprawling, the figure revealing to be the vampire from earlier. He kicked Gordon in the face repeatedly and knocked him unconscious.

-

Couple hours later, Sam and Y/N were in their motel room. The younger Winchester pacing the room nervously, biting his nails as Y/N called Dean’s phone numerous times. Both their nerves were getting the worst of them, “Goddamn, Dean!” Y/N cursed as she tossed her phone onto one of the dingy mattresses, bringing her nearly burnt out cigarette to her lips.

Sam began biting his nails more, his face taut with worry. “He’s been gone for hours, Y/N. And his phone is going straight to voicemail.” Sam pointed out. Y/N quickly crushed her cigarette into the ashtray, padding over to Sam to snatch his fingers out of his mouth. “Quit biting your nails, dude. Before it goes down to the stub” She scolded, pointing a firm finger at him.

Sam sheepishly pulled his hand back, running a hand through his hair, “You’re worried too..Y/N. I know you are.” He observed, noticing the nervous tremble in her chin. “Of course I am..” Y/N admitted weakly. The two remained in an awkward and tense silence, the sound of their heartbeats drumming against their chest.

Suddenly, the motel room door opened and in walked an unconcerned and casual Dean with a pizza box in his hand. Their heads snapped in his direction, a look of relief washing over their faces. “There you are!” Sam exclaimed like a parent that had been up all night waiting for their kid past their curfew. “Yeah. Sorry, I stopped for a slice.” Dean chuckled, patting his stomach. He handed a fuming Y/N the box and a bag with a chocolate cookie before peeling off his jacket.

She couldn’t care less about her favorite dessert right now, more pissed at the reckless move Dean pulled. “Nice move you pulled back there, Dean running right at the weapons!” His girlfriend hissed, nearly tossing the pizza box down onto the coffee table as placing the bag with the cookie on top of it. “Well, what can I say? I'm a bad-ass.” Dean smirked, turning to face them. Sam glared daggers at his brother's head due to his witty remark, the elder Winchester ignoring their genuine concern. “So, I guess Gordon's out of jail.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. You know, how the hell did he know where to find us?” Sam wondered out loud. Dean shrugged, not knowing as the wheels began to turn in Y/N’s head. “That bitch.” She seethed as she pulled out her cell phone, now remembering her little phone call with Bela included the slimy thief asking them their location. How could she have been so stupid?

Sam and Dean looked at her with confusion, “What? What's up?” Sam asked her as she began dialing Bela on her phone. “The location... I know how Gordon found us.” Y/N grumbled, bringing her phone to her ear, waiting for Bela to pick up. “Hi, Bela.” The psychic snapped as soon as the phone was answered. “Hello, Y/N” Bela answered casually with a smile as she drove. Y/N gritted her teeth as she put the phone on speaker, the boys listening in on the conversation.

“Question for you. When you called me yesterday, it wasn't to thank us for saving your ass, was it?” Y/N called her out immediately. “No. Gordon Walker paid me to tell him where you were.” Bela replied frankly and unabashed. “Excuse me?” Dean snapped, his face contorting with disgust. “Well, he had a gun on me. What else was I supposed to do?” Bela laughed as if it was obvious. This made Y/N’s blood boil, “I don't know, maybe pick up the fuckin’ phone and tell us that a raging psychopath was dropping by?!?” Her voice held pure anger.

“Ah. I did fully intend to call, I just got a bit sidetracked.” Bela responded simply, “He tried to kill us!” Dean shouted. Bela rolled her eyes unapologetically. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was such a big deal. After all, there are three of you and one of him.” She replied. “There were two of em’ you selfish bitch!” Y/N shouted, Bela’s face fell, now realizing what her actions caused. “Oh” she muttered, she went to make a witty remark but Y/N’s deathly tone caught her off guard as she took the phone off of the speaker and pressed it to her ear.

“Bela, if we make it out of this alive. So god help me, the first thing I'm gonna do is kill you.” The psychic promised, “You’re not serious” Bela scoffed, trying to maintain Y/N’s bluff but she wasn’t whatsoever. “Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious.” Bela gulped harshly, her grip on her phone tightening. She could tell Y/N meant every single word of what she said, making a chill run through her veins. Her eyes flickered on and off the road as she exhaled roughly and the line went dead.

-

Dean was now sharpening his machete on a whetstone next to Y/N, who was doing the same thing with her father’s machete as Sam cleaned his gun. All three hunters wore grim expressions, “That vampire's still out there, guys.” Sam voiced his concerns, “First things first.” Dean began, nodding his head. “Gordon” Y/N stated, tucking her machete into her thigh holster. “About that. When we find him, or if he finds us…” Dean said, shooting looks at the younger hunters. “Yeah?” Sam and Y/N said in unison.

“Well I'm just saying he's not leaving us a whole lot of options.” Dean stated, Y/N nodded firmly, understanding where he’s getting at. “Yeah, I know. We've got to kill him.” Sam stated calmly. This shocked the couple, “Really? Just like that? I thought you would have been like- wait, no. Y/N does it better than me, hit it sweetheart” He pointed over to his girlfriend, earning an amused snort from her and an eye roll from his brother. “No, we can't, he's human, it's wrong” Y/N marveled in a mock-whiny tone, mimicking Sam.

Dean snorted in amusement, earning himself an elbow to his ribs from Sam. “Shut up.” He muttered weakly as a smirk curled across Y/N's face. Sam sighed deeply and rubbed his temples, “It feels like we’ve been down this road before.” He pointed out. “What do you mean?” Dean questioned, dropping his smirk. “I mean, I'm done, Gordon's not gonna stop until we're dead... or till he is.” Sam pointed out, Dean and Y/N looked proud of him. Both sharing a look. Then, y/n’s phone rang. Hoping for it to be Jo, she pulled it out of her pocket.

Instead, she scowled as she placed it to her ear. “What?!” She hissed at Bela, “I don't like it when people hold grudges against me, and more to the point, I'd rather you didn't kill me, so I went ahead and found Gordon's exact location for you.” Bela’s slightly nervous tone piped up through the other line as Dean and Sam looked at the psychic curiously. Y/N’s brows furrowed, “You're a hundred miles away. How the fuck did you-?” but Bela cut her off.

“Hello? Purveyor of powerful occult objects? I used a talking board to contact the other side.” Bela answered. “And?” Y/N demanded, “Warehouse. Two stories, riverfront, neon sign outside.” Bela replied, “Thanks” Y/N muttered sarcastically. “One more thing. The spirit had a message for you. "Leave town, run like hell, and whatever you do, don't go after Gordon." For whatever that's worth.”

Y/N took the phone off of her ear, a thoughtful look crossing her face as she glanced over to the Winchesters. The brothers wore looks that said, ‘So??? What’d she say?’ Y/N took a deep breath, “Bela said she used a spirit board to find Gordon’s location, there's a warehouse near a river. She also said one of the spirits she contacted had a message for us to just run and not go after Gordon.” She explained.

Sam and Dean's faces were now confused, more so Dean than Sam, “Why would a spirit warn us not to go after him?” He asked curiously. “No idea, probably some demon trying to screw us over.” Y/N muttered as she tossed her phone on the table.

____________________________________________

Despite Bela’s warnings from the spirits, the trio found themselves at the warehouse she directed them to. This time, armed to the T. Sam took the lead, creeping down the steps into the room where Gordon was previously held. Y/N was right behind him, luring over his shoulder as Dean crept down behind them. All three hunters cocked their guns, the elder Winchester holding a flashlight to aid in their path.

Upon further investigation, they stumble onto the bodies of the girls who are hanging from their wrists by chains bound to the ceiling. Their corpses headless, and the vampire they tussled with earlier was kneeling in front of them, tears running down his face. Dean nudged Sam on his hand, pointing to a knife on one of the tables. Sam glanced over to his brother, nodding in agreement. He then glanced over to Y/N who also nodded firmly. So slowly, he crept over and swiped up the knife from the table before sticking his gun into the back of his jeans.

He began to approach the bloodsucker with caution. The monster heard Dean coming but didn't move an inch. “Go ahead. Do it. KILL me.” Dixon, the vampire’s voice quivered. The trio shared a surprised glance, keeping their caution and distance. “What happened here?” Sam demanded as he and y/n’s grips tightened on their guns. “Gordon.Walker.” The vampire gritted his teeth, “I never should have brought a hunter here. Never. I just…” He sobbed as he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face the hunters.

Dean instinctively shoved Y/N behind him, placing himself in front of his little brother at the same time. His both arms shielding the two as they held their guns in Dixon’s direction, Dean’s right hand wielding the large knife. “I just wanted some kind of revenge. So stupid... exposing him to my family.” Dixon’s tear stained face crumpled up with grief as the three looked at the monster with disgust. “Oh, yeah, you're such a family man.” Y/N scoffed sarcastically, no kind of remorse directed to the bloodsucker.

Y/N grabbed Sam gently by the sleeve of his jacket, shoving the oaf behind her to shield him with her free hand and slowly crept around the monster keeping him behind her as Dean stood near the entrance, glaring at the monster with his knife ready to use. “You don't understand.” Dixon gulped as Sam and Y/N made their way to the headless corpses, “We don't want to understand, you sick son of-” Dean growled.

“ was desperate! You ever felt desperate?” Dixon defended, beginning to circle them. Dean clenched his jaw as he paced around to meet with Sam and Y/N. “I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?” Dean refused to allow himself to relate to Dixon’s words, wanting nothing in common with a monster like him. “Well, there’s hell” Dean stated matter of factly, blinking rapidly. “I wasn't thinking. I just ... I didn't care anymore. Do you know it's like when you just don't give a damn?”

Dixon took a step closer to Dean, the Hunter raising his knife instinctively as Sam and Y/N checked the bodies. “It's like ... it's like being dead already. So just go ahead.” Dixon glanced down at Dean’s knife, “Do it” He urged him. Sam and Y/N shared a startled look, their breaths hitching in their throats. “Babe.” Y/N called out to Dean urgently, his gaze snapped over to hers immediately. “Head wasn't cut off, it was ripped off. With someone's bare hands.” She told him, her tone wavering as she glared back over to Dixon simultaneously with the boys.

“Dixon, what did you do to Gordon?” Sam demanded, Dixon didn’t answer. His face crumpled up again as he began to sob once more. This indicated their worst fears. Their hearts plummeted in their chests as they shared bewildered looks. Dixon had turned Gordon Walker into a vampire. Of fucking course.

-

Daylight finally hit, the trio running on little to no sleep. Sam and Y/N ended up back at the motel while Dean was still scouting for anywhere Gordon could be. Y/N sat by the table across from Sam, the palm of her hand resting against her cheek, propping it up on the table as her tired and heavy eyes fluttered shut. A slight snoring sound coming from her mouth.

Sam snorted a little in amusement at the way her mouth hung open, the tiny snores leaving her mouth reminded him of a grandma. He gently kicked her chair but she didn’t budge so he kicked it harder a second time. “Wake your ass up, sleeping beast” Y/N’s eyes sprung open, jolting as she tried to sit up straight. Her tired eyes fluttered as she glared at Sam, rubbing the exhaustion out her eyes. “Why’d you kick my chair?” She mumbled, running a hand over her face. “You were snoring,” Sam replied bluntly.

She scowled at her best friend in return, “Dipshit” Sam rolled his eyes at her again, “Pardon me for not enjoying the little symphony that you were having from your snoring, crackhead” He replied sarcastically. “Shut up” She muttered, flipping him the bird. He chuckled, shaking his head softly as Y/N stretched once more. “Wake me up when Dean gets back” She muttered before folding her arms up to rest her head into the crease in the table.

Sam went back to reading in one of the many maps that covered the table while Y/N slept on the other end. She was passed clean out, even his occasional movements didn’t seem to phase her. It was only after about an hour and a half, Dean finally entered the room, frustrated as he removed his jacket. “Man, I must have checked three dozen motels, empty buildings, warehouses” Dean complained, “Yeah, us too” Sam replied, sighing deeply.

He nodded in response as he looked down at Y/N’s knocked out form lying with her chin laid down on her arms. He was tempted to walk over and mess with her when he saw the dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion was showing on her face. He approached her slowly, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “Y/N, princess. Hey, wake up” He called to her gently. This snapped her out of her unconscious state, jolting awake. She looked up to meet his gaze, looking like a confused deer.

The fatigue was still evident on her face as she sat up straight. Dean’s hand moved from her shoulder to her chin, tilting her head up to get a better look at her. “You’re back” She said groggily, a small sleepy smile making its way to her face. Her eyes were glossed over, struggling to focus on his face as he gently spoke to her. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s wash your face” She was too tired to protest even if she wanted to, reluctantly allowing her boyfriend to lead her to the restroom. Sam frowned with concern as he watched Dean take Y/N’s sleepy form to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Dean pulled out a small and clean wash rag from Y/N’s duffel, wetting it with water from the tap. With a careful and gentle grip, he grabbed her chin once more, beginning to gently dab away the tiredness from her face. She remained quiet, relishing in this tender moment with Dean as she closed her eyes and tried to suppress a tired yawn. “You’re exhausted” He pointed out, his face soft as he began to carefully remove Y/N’s smudged mascara.

“I’m fine” She waved it off, shaking her head as she bit back another yawn. “Bullshit” He retorted, moving over to her other eye. “You look like you’re gonna collapse any minute now. And you were snoring so loud it could’ve woken the dead” He chuckled gently. She chuckled weakly, “You love my snores” She retorted. “Mhm, that’s why I’m gonna stuff a sock in your mouth the next time I catch it hanging open” He teased, gently wiping the rest of her makeup from her cheek.

“Mmm why don’t you stuff something else in and we’ll call it even” She winked, gasping playfully when Dean smacked her thigh after dropping the rag in the sink. “You’re not too tired to use that smartass mouth of yours, huh?” He shook his head with an amused smirk. She shook her head as she smiled cheekily, hooking her arms around his neck as Dean leaned down to give her a gentle kiss on her parted lips.

It lasted for a good few seconds, her eyes fluttering shut and enjoying the way those rough, but soft lips felt against her own. When the moment came to an end, they pulled away but their faces remained an inch from the other. “How’d the looking go?” She asked, placing her hands on his chest, going back to the case. Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he took her hand into his, leading her out of the bathroom. “It's like a giant haystack, and Gordon's a deadly needle.” He told both her and Sam.

“And we’re running out of daylight. Won't have the sun slowing him down.” Y/N muttered, rubbing her eyes, “Yeah, he'll be unstoppable.” Sam sighed in agreement as they nodded. “Hey, uh, give me your phones” Sam suddenly said to them, “What for?” Dean and Y/N asked in unison as they took out their phones and placed it on the table next to Sam. “Well, if Gordon knows our cell numbers he can use the cell signal to track us down.” Sam explained as he began taking out their SIM cards.

“Oh, yeah. Nice. Thanks” Dean snorted with a nod. “Yeah” Sam responded, before dropping all three phones to the ground and stomping on them with the heel of his combat shoes as Dean walked over to the curtain. He peered through them for a second before walking back over to his duffel bag. “Sammy, Y/N/N, stay here.” He instructed the younger hunters. “What? Where you going now?” Sam asked confused as Y/N’s brows furrowed. Dean then pulled out the Colt from his bag and a case with bullets. “I'm going after Gordon.” Dean stated matter of factly.

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “What?!” She damn near yelled, “Don’t raise that tone with me, sweetheart. You heard me” Dean shot back, trying not to escalate the situation as he loaded up the Colt. Y/N’s eye twitched, clenching her jaw to stop herself from reaching over and smacking the taste out of her boyfriend’s mouth for doing the most reckless shit possible. She glanced over to Sam, pleading with her eyes to say something but he beat her to the jump. “Not alone, you’re not” Sam argued.

Dean scoffed as he cocked the Colt. “Sam, Y/N. You’re not my parents, okay? I don't need you to sign me a permission slip. He's after you two, not me, and he's turbocharged. I want you guys to stay out of harm's way. I'll take care of it.” Dean responded dismissively. “Charming, you're not going by yourself. You're gonna get yourself killed!” Y/N argued, Dean went to smart mouth her before she pointed at him firmly, “Don’t you dare tell me to ‘don’t raise that tone’ asshole, you know we’re right”

“Just another day at the office. It's a massively dangerous day at the office” Dean shrugged, smirking before smiling cheekily. Sam had enough at this point, “So you're the guy with nothing to lose now, huh? Oh wait, let me guess. Because, uh, it's because you're already dead, right?” Sam mocked Dean’s self righteous words, “If the shoe fits” Dean shrugged once more, Y/N shook her head. Her hands rested on her hips as she tore her eyes away from her boyfriend. That gaping hole in her chest returned as she tried to swallow down her guilt.

“You know what, man? I'm sick and tired of your kamikaze trip. You’re constantly guilting Y/N without realizing it and you’re being a dick!” Sam snapped, “Whoa, whoa, kamikaze? I'm more like a ninja.” Dean mused, shooting Y/N a wink, “That’s not funny” Y/N hissed, “It’s a little funny” He smirked in return, “No, it’s not” Sam retorted, “Whatever. And I’m not guilting Y/N, where the fuck did you get that from?” Dean argued.

“Every single time you say that bullshit, don’t you think it hurts her, you jackass!?” Sam got in his brother’s face, Y/N’s eyes widened, instantly placing herself between the two. “Whoa, okay! Fellas, enough” She snapped, her arms splayed out to keep them a safe distance away from one another. Sam’s nostrils flared in anger as he glared over Y/N’s shoulder at his brother who stared back at him with equal venom.

“I’m not guilting anyone! Am I? Am I guilting you, sweetheart?” Y/N’s face remained stone cold, “Don’t sweetheart me right now, Dean. You’re being difficult!” Dean’s face fell. “Me!? I’m being difficult?!” He gaped, pointing to himself. “YES!!” Sam and Y/N shouted in unison as if it was obvious. Dean placed the Colt onto the table. “What do you guys want me to do, huh? Sit around all day writing sad poems about how I'm gonna die?” He argued sarcastically as he picked up a pen and paper from the table.

“You know what? I got one. Let's see, what rhymes with ‘shut up, Sam and Y/N’?” Y/N smacked the pen and paper out of her boyfriend’s hands harshly. “Dude” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid” Sam fumed. “I’m not.” Dean denied firmly, Y/N placed her hand to her forehead at her terrible lying. Shaking her head. “You’re lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.” Sam called him out on his bullshit.

“You got no idea what you're talking about.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to hide his pain with a smile. Pacing away from the two, his back now turned to them. “Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.” Sam’s words scared the shit out of Dean, he’d been trying to hold himself together. He tried to seem strong infront of his little brother but it didn’t seem to work. Everything Y/N was telling him, reminding him that Sam wasn’t an idiot and the whole ‘macho man’ bullshit facade wasn’t gonna work.

He glanced over to Y/N nervously who held a look that said, ‘I told you so’, her arms crossed over her chest. “And how do you know that?” Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. “Because I know you!” Sam exclaimed. “Really?!” Dean retorted, “Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life!” Dean’s heart sank in his chest. “I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world.” Sam’s voice held pure emotion and admiration as Dean’s gaze fell to the floor.

Y/N stood silently with her eyes glued to Dean’s back, her throat was tight. She could feel the pure vulnerability and desperation hanging off of Sam. “And this-” Sam’s words got stuck in his throat. “-is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just…” Sam paused, tearing his eyes away from his brother as his tone wavered. “What?” Dean’s voice broke the silence as he finally looked at his little brother.

However, Sam’s eyes snapped over to Y/N, pleading with her to take over. The unshed tears glistened in his eyes as he tried desperately not to break down in tears right there and then.

Y/N inhaled a shaky breath as her gaze fell back over to the eldest hunter who now shared the same scared and vulnerable look. She rubbed at her nose, a sign that she was trying to compose herself, trying not to let her own emotions get the best of her. “Sam just wants you to drop the show and be his brother again. Because he loves you…we love you”

Once Dean got a proper look at the two, looking like kicked puppies, their lips quivering as they clawed to hold back their tears. His gaze softened, looking down as he scratched the side of his head, “Alright, we’ll hole up” He obliged, “We’ll cover our scent so he can't track us, and wait the night out here.” Y/N and Sam nodded, “Okay” Y/N whispered, “I’m gonna go uh-” Sam cleared his throat, pointing to the door.

“-get the stuff for the sage. It’s in the trunk” Y/N patted his shoulder, understanding that he needed some time alone to get his cry out before he can face his brother again. Sam smiled gratefully at Y/N before making a beeline for the door, picking up Dean’s keys from the table in the process. Dean went back over to the table to pick up the Colt once more as the door shut and Y/N as she wiped at her eyes, taking a seat in the chair near the table.

“Baby,” He called softly. She didn’t look up to meet his gaze so he knelt beside her and placed a hand on her knee, he gently touched her chin. “Look at me,” He murmured. She inhaled a shaky breath, before lifting her head. “Yeah?” She looked up weakly. Dean’s heart shattered at her puffy eyes. He grabbed both of her hands, pulling her up from the chair, to stand to her feet and bringing them chest to chest.

“I’m sorry” He whispered as he pulled her into his chest and placed a kiss on the crown of her head. He sat back down onto one of the chairs and gently pulled her onto his lap, “I’m not the only one that needs to hear that” She croaked, gesturing to the door. “I know” he sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin on her shoulder as she curled into him. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, toying with his amulet.

“Don’t you dare say I told you so” Dean murmured. Y/N scoffed, “I wasn’t going to” she murmured into his neck, inhaling his scent, “At least not verbally” He smirked a little, “I know what you were thinking, smart ass” He chuckled, lightly pinching her side. Y/N smiled to herself, feeling his rough fingers against her waist, “I’m your smartass”

“That you are” He agreed, tilting her head to the side, giving him easy access to her neck. His lips planted kisses to her exposed skin as her jaw went slack, and a soft gasp escaped her. “I’m gonna go check on Sam- make sure he got the right stuff for the sage” She cleared her throat, peeling herself away from Dean. He groaned playfully, “Why can’t you stay here and kiss me instead?” He protested, trying to pull her back to his lap.

“Because we’ve got a turbo charged Gordon trying to kill us. But you’ll get all the kisses you want after we kill the bastard” She quipped back, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pacing over to the door. Dean grumbled, annoyed by her words and the fact that she was right, as he stood up from the chair and got to work barricading the place. Y/N gave him a cheeky smile before slipping out of the motel room, shutting the door behind her.

In the parking lot, across the way, she spotted Sam near the trunk with his face buried in his hands. Her smile faded almost instantly, realizing he was crying. Y/N’s shoulders sagged at the sight. She quietly made her way over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Sammy?” She spoke softly. He tilted his head down to meet her eyes, and she felt her heart drop, his eyes were red and filled to the brim with tears.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him and he broke into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Y/N held him close, rubbing his back as she tried to soothe him. He held on tightly, afraid to let go. For the first time in a while, he let himself be vulnerable, and she held him, letting him take as much time as he needed to get it all out. “I-I j-just-” He blubbered into her shoulder as his hands gripped onto the back of her shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay sweetie, just let it out” She shushed him softly like a mother comforting her child.

His hands gripped her harder, trying to ground himself. He inhaled a few breaths before pulling away reluctantly. “I’m fine” he said, trying to suck it all up, but of course, Y/N was having none of it. “Don’t you go pulling the macho man act with me now, little Winchester” She said firmly with no room for argument as she pointed a firm finger at her surrogate brother.

Sam hung his head sheepishly, “Sorry” was the only thing he could manage to say. “Don’t be sorry, just don’t push down your emotions again, ‘kay?” She spoke with a firm but gentle tone. He nodded, looking over to the trunk, “Grab the sage?” Y/N asked. He nodded, wiping away his tears. He reached for the sage, handing the bundle to her. “Thanks, how do I look?” He asked as they made their way back towards the motel.

She smirked at the stupid question, “Like you’ve been crying your eyes out, dumbass” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If you tell Dean about that, so god help me, I will tell him about that time you stole the Impala and snuck out to see Xander” Sam half-threatened, his red puffy eyes narrowed at her. Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked up at him in shock, “You said you would never bring that up again!” She groaned, shoving Sam playfully.

The two entered the motel room once more, Dean glanced over to them with curious eyes. “What?” Dean asked with a cocked brow. “Nothing” Sam and Y/N suddenly said in unison. Dean raised his brows at them once more but decided not to press on it, shaking his head and dismissing it as the two dorks and their childish ‘inside jokes’ they always had. Once Dean had his back to them, Y/N shot Sam a warning look, her eyes widened, signaling him not to say anything.

-

Hours passed and it was nearing sundown, Dean was leaning back on one of the beds they had laying in the ground. His machete in one hand and his sleepy girlfriend wrapped up in his other. Y/N’s dominant hand gripped her own machete while Sam peered at the curtains. Dean’s fingertips danced along her back tracing patterns into her shirt mindlessly, his eyes fluttering open and shut. He tried to keep himself awake but he was struggling.

His body was exhausted and Y/N was not helping his case, her warm form snuggling into him, her head resting on his chest made it very hard for him to keep his tiredness at bay. The tiredness shot out of his body when his new phone suddenly rang, causing Sam to get startled from his position by the window and Y/N to jump awake. The hunters looked to one another nervously, Dean was quick to reach into his pocket. “You've had that phone two hours, Dean. Who'd you give the number to?” Sam asked, “Nobody” Dean answered.

He frowned as he answered, putting the phone to his ear, “Hello?” He asked, his tone cautious. “Dean” Gordon’s voice came through the phone as Sam sat crossed legged at the foot of their bed. Dean’s face fell, “How’d you get this number?” He demanded, “Scent’s all over cell phone store. Course’ I can’t smell you now” Gordon responded, “Where are you now?” He asked, Sam and Y/N’s faces fell also when they realized it was Gordon. “Well, I guess you'll just have to find us, won't you.” Dean quipped cockily. “I’d rather you come to me”

“What’s the matter, Gord-o? You’re not afraid of us, are you? We’re just sitting here. Bring it on” Dean challenged, his grip tightening on his phone as Sam and Y/N listened intently, sharing nervous looks. “I don’t think so” Gordon said menacingly, “Please. Please.” The sound of a woman sobbing through the phone, someone Gordon was holding hostage, pleaded to be saved. He hushed her as Dean’s jaw nearly fell, “Factory on riverside off the turnpike. Be here in 20 minutes or the girl dies.” Gordon demanded.

“Gordon, let the girl go,” Dean tried to reason. “Bye, Dean.” Gordon dismissed. “Gordon, don’t do this! You don’t kill innocent people. You’re still a hunter!” Dean snapped. “No. I’m a monster.” With that, Gordon hung up and the line went dead. Y/N, Sam and Dean were stunned into silence. The only thing that echoed the room was the faint sound of the phone call disconnecting. They sat there speechless.

____________________________________________

In record time, the group made it to the factory Gordon demanded they be at. Refusing to risk the life of an innocent woman. Dean bared the Colt as Sam and Y/N wielded their machetes, creeping down the dark hallway with caution. As they bent the corner as the sounds of muffled crying filled their ears. There they saw the woman Gordon had kidnapped tied to a post.

“Hey, hey. Its okay, you’re okay” Dean whispered as they walked towards the girl to free her from her gag. Sam was quick to go over and untie her and comfort her. “Hey, we got you. Don't worry. We're gonna get you out of here.” He assured her as he helped her up. “Watch your head. Watch your head. “ Sam cooed, covering the trembling and sobbing woman’s head.

Y/N remained close to the door, glancing around the area to make sure Gordon wasn’t there to pop out of nowhere. "Thank you” The girl said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. She could barely walk so Dean gently slung her arm over his head and lifted her up bridal style. “Sam, Y/N, stay close” He instructed the two younger hunters.

They nodded obediently, following behind Dean. Their hearts have out for the poor girl who was terrorized by Gordon. Sharing a sympathetic look. They continued to follow behind Dean and the woman closely, but not closely enough. As they trudged down the hall, a mechanized door suddenly slid down in front of Sam and Y/N, cutting them off from the other two.

“Sam?! Y/N?!” Dean screamed panicked, dropping the woman to her feet, allowing her to lean against the wall. “Dean?!” Sam and Y/N yelled from behind the door, knocking their fists against the cold iron harshly. The three pounded on the steel but to no avail. “Dammit, guys!!” Dean bellowed, kicking the iron door. Sam pounded the door one last time in frustration, his nostrils flaring as his eyes darted over to Y/N.

An idea popped in his head so he quickly nudged the psychic. Y/N raised a brow at him curiously once they shared a look. “What?” She asked, “Use your ESP thing in the door” Sam urged her. “You did not just-” She stopped herself from cussing him out for using the term ‘ESP thing’ instead of telekinesis. Dean was truly rubbing off on his little brother. She rubbed at her temples as she nodded. “Dean, sweetie, step back!” Y/N shouted through the iron door.

“What?” Dean was confused but he did as she said and held the woman close to him in one arm, backing up just a bit. Y/N pressed her hand to the door, her eyes fluttering shut. Her face remained blank as she focused on the iron door, hoping her powers might be strong enough to open it. Her veins ignited up blue as her eyes shone white, the door shook a bit but it didn’t budge whatsoever.

Her nose twitched, she was trying as hard as she could but it felt like the door was resisting. She let out a frustrated grumble, pulling her hand away from the door. “God dammit it’s iron!” She yelled in frustration, pounding the door with her fist. The one element she knew of that she couldn’t break through. One of her unfortunate weaknesses.

“Dean, we’re gonna have to find another way around!” Sam called to the other side of the door. “Great!” Dean retorted sarcastically in response. “Sam, Y/N, be careful!” The two huffed in frustration as they turned and began walking around, when suddenly the lights went out. Y/N’s heart sank, realizing that Gordon ambushed them, “Son of a-“ She seethed, cursing at herself for not being more cautious.

The two nearly froze, blindly feeling around for each other as they raised their machetes in their dominant hands. "Sammy?!" Y/N called out for her brother. "I'm right here" He assured her, his hand gently touching her biceps. They gulped simultaneously, “Gordon! You got us where you want. You might as well come out and fight!” Sam shouted, “C’mon out you filthy fang!” Y/N bellowed as they crept around the dark room.

“I’m right here,” Gordon suddenly appeared behind them, they instantly broke contact and swung their machetes behind them. It swishes through the air but doesn’t make contact. “What’s the matter, Sammy and Y/N/N?” Gordon chuckled darkly, now suddenly on the other side of the room. “So, this is really the way you want to do it, huh?!” Sam seethed, his anxiety skyrocketing as Y/N’s heart beat out of her chest. Both making sure to stay close to one another, “Damn right I do.”

Gordon can see them perfectly through his infrared vision while Sam and Y/N had to feel their way around the room, in what was total darkness for them. Eventually, they made it to a wall, braving their back’s against it. “You have no idea what I faced to get here. I lost everything. My life….. But it's worth it, 'cause I'm finally gonna kill the most dangerous things I ever hunted. Neither of you are human.” Gordon hissed with pure hatred.

“Look who’s talking” Y/N retorted with venom and anger, she swore she saw Gordon at the corner of her eye, swinging instantly. A loud grunt left her throat when she missed, hitting a steel pipe. “Y/N/N!” Sam shouted. “You're right. I'm a bloodthirsty killer.” Gordon confirmed, continuing to stalk them. Sam got ahold of Y/N, gripping her by her wrist to shove him behind her, shielding her with his free hand.

They heard the shuffling of Gordon’s feet as he moved closer to the pair, circling them like a hungry predator, “But you two. Oh, you are a lot worse than me." He added with disgust. “Don't talk about it like you don't have a choice!” Sam argued. “I don't.” Gordon scoffed, “Yes you do, Gordon. You didn't kill that girl.” Y/N defended, “No I didn’t. I did something much much worse” Gordon stated darkly. Their eyes widened simultaneously, their hearts beginning to race.

-

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door Dean was still hacking away at the iron with a large tool. Heavy desperate grunts left his throat as he slammed it against the chains. He grew frustrated, tossing the tool away. Suddenly, the girl vamped out and attacked, knocking him to the ground. His body hit the floor with a heavy thud.

“Jesus Chr-” Dean quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out the Colt, firing a single bullet bullseye into her forehead before she could tackle him. She convulsed brutally, energy crackling throughout her body and wound and eventually slumped to the floor. Dead. He panted heavily as the smoking gun grew hot in his hand.

-

Back on the other side, Gordon continued to taunt them. “I gotta hand it to you, guys. You two got a lot of people fooled. But see, I know the truth.” Their breathing increased as they felt around desperately. “I know what it's like. We're the same now, all of us. I know how it is walking around with something evil inside you.” Gordon’s words were menacing. “It's just too bad you won't do the right thing and kill yourselves. I'm gonna ... as soon as I'm done.” He promised them, “Three last good deeds. Killing you, you and then killing myself.”

They finally got backed into a corner, their breaths getting hitched in their throats. They directly faced Gordon, the bloodthirsty vampire growling as he bared his fangs. In a flip, he attacked, sending them all flying into a drywall that was separating them from Dean. Y/N got knocked to a further end of the room, both her and Sam being disarmed of their weapons. The machetes clattering to the floor, “Sammy!” Y/N grunted out when her back collided with the wall.

Before she could recover, Gordon stalked over to her and grabbed Y/N by the hair, slamming her head roughly into the concrete, hard enough to dazzle her but not kill her. Sam scuffled to his feet, retrieving his machetes and lunged for Gordon the moment his hand pulled at her hair, the vampire whirled around and knocked him off his feet with a kick. The younger Winchester being flung into a shelf.

“It’ll make a great story. One vampire hunter turns and he saves the world from bastards like you.” He growled lowly, pinning Y/N to the wall by her neck. Dean then came up from behind out of nowhere and aimed the Colt at the murderous vampire’s head, but was too fast for him, back handing the Colt off of his hands. He slammed Y/N once more into the wall roughly, cracking the wood before grabbing Dean’s gun-arm before twisting it back before flinging him across the room.

Y/N struggled and stumbled over to the side as she pushed herself to her feet, trying to stay up but the pain was making her head feel fuzzy and blurry while Sam picked himself up off of the floor, trying to recover from his own dizziness. Their hearts froze when they saw Gordon stalking over to Dean, grabbing him by his shirt before sinking his fangs into the elder Winchester’s neck.

“No!!” Both Y/N and Sam screamed in horror. Gordon sucked his neck vigorously, the loud sucking sound echoed in their ears as if to taunt them. Dean cried out in pain, his body flailing desperately in the vampire’s grip. Before they knew it, Sam had a large iron in his hand, knocking Gordon in the back of his neck as Y/N sent Gordon to the other side of the room with a wave of her hand.

In no time, Gordon recovered and vamp sped over to them. Kicking Y/N across her face and gripping Sam by his hair before reeling his fist back and driving it into his face. Y/N let out a sharp pained cry when she landed against the concrete. Sam groaned painfully, stumbling to his feet as blood poured down his nose. Both were growing more and more hopeless. Gordon’s vamp-speed was far too quick and skilled for them to overcome. The little recovery time for Y/N to send a blast his way was deadly.

Gordon kicked Sam in his midsection and returned his gaze to Y/N, picking her up by her neck and slamming her across a work table. Dean desperately tried to pull himself to his feet as Y/N cried out in pain. He cursed himself angrily, watching hopelessly as Gordon tossed Y/N to the floor like a rag doll. “Sam!!! Y/N!!!” He cried out weakly.

Gordon got sloppy when he turned his attention back to Sam, kicking the younger Winchester brutally. Y/N’s weary eyes searched the room for her machete, coming up empty. So she thought quickly on her feet and managed to grab a piece of cloth and an end of razor wire in each hand. Y/N pulled herself up with a groan. Her whole body shook with the combination of pain and adrenaline. She rushed over to Gordon and instantly wrapped the razor wire around his neck.

Gordon stumbled backwards in a panic, his hands clawing at the wire like a wild animal. He forced himself to turn, his wide eyes connecting with Y/N’s anger filled ones. She held on desperately as he tried to throw her off, but she remained clinging to it. Sam got up off the floor, his vision was blurry from the blood that kept pouring from his nose.

Her eyes glanced over to Sam who was a bloody mess on the floor and her boyfriend, who was still clutching his neck. Dean’s chest fell up and down with heavy breaths, trying to regain his sense. The sight of her family like trash on the ground fueled her anger. She glared at the monster with hatred and disgust as her veins ignited blue once more and her eyes shone white. A sick feeling of pleasure and satisfaction coursing through her body when a death-rattle sound came from Gordon’s throat.

She grit her teeth and pulled harder, forcing Gordon to stare her dead in her eyes as his life slipped from her hands. Blood dripped from her hands where the razor wire was cutting in and through Gordon’s fully fanged teeth. Yet, she pulled harder, until she cut all the way through Gordon’s neck and sent his fully decapitated head tumbling.

She panted from the effort, and dropped the razor on the floor beside her. A feeling of nauseous filling her. She stared down at Gordon’s head on the ground, and examined her slightly shaky bloody hands. Dean and Sam finally staggered to their feet. Both groaning and coughing. Dean clutched his neck in pain as Sam covered his bloody nose. Dean was still holding the Colt as he and Sam hobbled over.

The brothers look down in surprise at the headless Gordon, then back up at Y/N, who shrugged in return. Her own head was bruised, a cut right above her eyebrow bleeding terribly and her lip busted open. Y/N pulled herself from her place and began stumbling with the boys, none of them moving very well. “You just charged a super-vamped-out Gordon with no weapon. That's a little reckless, don't you think?” Dean’s croaky voice and untimely humor didn’t garner any response from the equally beaten down Sam and Y/N.

____________________________________________

After the long and traumatic hunt, it was now daytime. The group fully rested and back on the road. Dean was under the hood of Baby, poking at something while Y/N leaned against the passenger side door, smoking a cigarette. Sam opened a cooler that sat near Y/N’s feet and pulled three beers, then shut the lid and sat on it. He opened two bottles and passed one to Dean and another to Y/N. All while the stereo was playing Bad Company’s "Crazy Circles".

“Here you go.” He offered them the beer. “Thanks” They accepted in unison. The boys took a swig of their beers. While Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette, blowing smoke out of her nostrils, her head tipped back, enjoying the blissful moment. “Figure out what's making that rattle?” Y/N asked her boyfriend as Sam flicked the bottle caps into a nearby bush, “Not yet. Give me a box wrench, would you?” Dean responded, “Yeah. Here you go” Sam conceded, digging into the toolbox at his feet before handing Dean the tool.

As Dean went to begin his mechanical work while Sam and Y/N made conversation. He looked up thoughtfully, “Sam?” He called out to his little brother as he pushed himself back to his feet, “Wrong one?” Sam asked, his head snapping over to his big brother. “No no no, come here for a second.” Dean shook his head. Sam looked over at Y/N with confusion, the psychic just shrugging in response as she blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth and gesturing for him to go do what Dean said.

Sam pushed himself to his feet and leaned over the hood with Dean. “Yeah?” Dean licked his lips before beginning, “This rattle could be a couple of things. I'm thinking it's an out-of-tune carb.” Y/N smiled to herself when she realized what Dean was doing, positioning herself to the side of the hood as she tossed her burnt out bud onto the ground and crushed it with her heeled boot. “Okay?” Sam responded, still confused.

Dean cleared his throat before reaching back over the bonnet, pointing to a certain spot. “All right, see this thing? It's a valve cover. Inside are all the parts that are on the head.” He explained, “Hand me that socket wrench.” He instructed Sam, who went to do so but Y/N placed her hand over the toolbox and summoned the socket wrench to her hand before handing it over to Sam with a wide grin.

Dean’s eyes shifted to Y/N, his brows raising a bit. “Show off” Sam mumbled, playfully snatching the wrench away from her. “Jealous” She teased as Sam handed the tool over to Dean. The older Winchester took the tool, going to work with a smirk. “Alright, you with me so far?” Dean asked Sam for reassurance, “Yeah, uh, valve cover covers the heads.” Sam answered, pointing to the valve as he intently listened. “Very good,” Dean commended before continuing. “Now this is your intake manifold, okay, and on top of it?”

Y/N found it so cute how Dean was teaching Sam, a little pout playing on her lips as she lit another cigarette, glancing between the brothers. Sam smiled as he tried to remember, “It's, uh, uh, a carburetor.” Sam replied. Dean nodded in confirmation, “Carburetor. Very good” He commended once more, pushing himself up from the bonnet as Sam side eyed him with amusement. “What's with the auto shop?” Sam chuckled, his eyes widening when Dean twirled the socket wrench before handing it out for him to take.

“What, you don't mean you want-” Sam stuttered. Even Y/N nearly choked on the smoke when Dean did that. “Yeah, I do. You fix it.” Dean cut him off, smiling up at his brother. “Dean, you barely let me drive this thing.” Sam held his hands up but Dean shook his head. “Well, it's time. You should know how to fix it. You're gonna need to know these things for the future.” Sam and Y/N’s face fell at his words, the two sharing a look. Y/N nodded, urging him to take the wrench.

Sam sighed deeply as Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette as she forced herself to swallow her emotions, “And besides, that's my job, right? Show my little brother the ropes?” Dean said encouragingly, offering him a small smile. It was now Sam’s turn to swallow his emotions, choosing to look at this little moment as a good thing rather than impending horror as he leaned down and started unscrewing. Dean smiled like a proud father, patting Sam on his back.

He then walked over to his girlfriend, taking a seat on the cooler beside her. Y/N’s eyes remained on Sam as he carefully took the engine apart. She found this moment oddly tender, her heart swelling at how Dean was teaching Sam. She blew out a ring of smoke, a light gasp leaving her lips when Dean suddenly snatched her by her waist, pulling her onto his lap. “Are you actually letting him get up under the hood?” She asked with a light chuckle.

Dean’s tongue ran across his lips as he nodded his head, “Mhm.” He confirmed. She chuckled, raising a brow as she placed her cigarette between his lips, “That’s risky.” He inhaled the cigarette as he hummed in agreement before exhaling a small cloud of smoke around Y/N. He took the cigarette into his fingers, taking another puff, “It is, but he's a quick learner…little dull when it comes to cars but a quick learner” He replied with a smirk, his free hand rubbing her leg affectionately.

“I can hear you y’know!” Sam’s pensive voice pierced into their conversation as he stood up slightly, accidentally hitting his head on the hood, thanks to his impeccable height. Dean and Y/N snickered in amusement, the psychic covering his mouth as Dean said, “Put your shoulder into it” Urging Sam, only to retrieve a glare from his brother as he sipped his beer.

Sam scoffed, muttering profanities at them before returning back to the car. Y/N let out a breathy sigh as she relaxed back into Dean's lap, her chin resting against his head, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. He chuckled, enjoying having her in his lap, as he continued to smoke their cigarette and watch Sam struggle but learn.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Hi beauties! Okay, I’m not gonna lie. I'm not so confident about this episode😭I don’t know if it’s just my writing insecurities being a nasty bitch but I genuinely don’t like how I wrote it and had a hard time garnering motivation to do so BUT I worked hard so I’m gonna love it regardless, despite what my stupid ass brain is saying🥰

It’s a bit shorter than most but I guess quality over quantity?💀

I hope you guys loved it too!! Don’t be shy, tell me what was your favorite part🫶My personal favorite moment was Y/N comforting Sam, these two babies go through enough on a daily:( their slight banter throughout this chapter gave me life😂

Honorable mention: Y/N’s internal conflict about the ring at the beginning of the chapter💀💀💀I was crying/laughing while writing it, MISS GIRL IS TIRED LMAO

Anyways, I hope you guys have an amazingggg day. Sending love to everyone and see you in the next one! Mwaahhh

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

[kyoshitargaryen]

the lullaby method

note: this method was not made by me. I was unable to find the original post or author of this method, but if you know please let me know and I will update my post!

I've been using this method for just two days and I've already had incredible success. I've been working on not trying to shift or manifest -- read that post here -- and this method has made it SO easy for me to do so. It works so well that not even my OCD can combat it!

Step One

Decide what you want to manifest or where you want to shift. If I'm completely honest, I spend some time manifesting specific things for my CR before focusing on shifting to my DR -- this might be counterintuitive for some, but I think it knocks two birds with one stone; I can shift to my DR, and when I shift back, my manifestations will be waiting for me.

Step Two

Begin affirming based on;

isn't it wonderful that...

isn't it incredible that...

aren't I lucky to be/have...

wow, this is so...

how did this...

Your affirmations can be anything -- observational based on whatever environment you're in, just basic facts about yourself and your DR as a whole, even questioning HOW things work in your DR.

Step Three

Continue affirming. Don't try to shift, and don't focus on the act of shifting. Instead, actually feel amazement and gratitude behind those statements. Let yourself completely forget that you weren't already in your DR when you began this process. I want you to completely become aware of your DR by just believing you are there. I really suggest reading this post I made for a deeper explanation on how to and why you should do this.

That's all you have to do! You'll be shocked at how quickly you'll feel close to your DR if not actively being in it. For me, it felt like I had shifted in no time at all, when I previously had to spend literal HOURS trying. You're basically self-soothing your way into your DR. I even plan to use it to help mitigate anxiety attacks.

Below, I'm going to list some examples of affirmations based off of my DRs, as well as what I experienced today using this method. If you're leaving me here, that's totally fine! I hope this made sense!

yoshi!!

My DR Affirmations

isn't it wonderful that Percy lets me sit in the passenger seat of the car because I get carsick?

isn't it incredible that I'm a dragon dreamer?

isn't it incredible that Helaena and I are so close despite Alicent holding poor feelings towards my family during my childhood?

aren't I so lucky to have the best dragon in the family?

isn't being in an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express so lovely?

isn't the compartment I'm in so cozy?

aren't I so lucky to be Poseidon's daughter?

isn't it incredible that I'm attending Hogwarts as an American?

how did I get so lucky to have my own dorm room rather than sharing?

isn't the view from the window of the Hogwarts Express so beautiful?

isn't it so nice to be in Scotland?

aren't I so lucky to have such wonderful crewmates?

Depending on where I'm shifting to, I also affirm based off of my location and the specific circumstances I'm in, as seen with my affirmations about the view on the Hogwarts Express and being in an empty compartment.

The lovely @shaysplanet made a great post about affirmations being a form of visualization, which you can read here. Putting situational observations into this affirmation format is something I definitely recommend, especially for those with aphantasia like myself because it is SUCH an easy way to visualize with this method without putting pressure on yourself.

wow, this apple is SO red!

my perfume smells SO lovely

this bed is really comfy

aren't I so lucky to live in the house of my dreams?

christ, Percy needs a shower

My Experience

I said earlier that I was shocked at how quickly I connected to my DR -- today in particular was my Harry Potter DR.

I actually shifted. It felt like it took no time at all. It wasn't a perfect shift, I didn't shift to my scripted wake up scene, but it was a moment I had scripted to happen later on in my DR.

I shifted mid-conversation with Hermione where I was explaining to her my ideas on reform and rights for house elves!

It was actually really lovely. I have aphantasia, so to be able to physically see was a big deal for me. I'm DEFINITELY using this method more from now on.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Lost at Star Sea

It was sheer luck I even glanced down. Stopped, longed enough to doubled check, triple check, my next jump. I didn't really need too. Trusted my ship's computers, (quite literally) with my life. Kinda had too, after so long, out in the sea of stars. So the fact that I paused? Checked? Noticed that stuttering little signal at all?

Really, it could only be luck.

Good, bad, a miracle or disaster in the making? Couldn't tell ya.

But I DID notice. And I DID, immediately, hit the override for my cued up jumps to Starline. Because as every pilot worth even a fraction of their soul will tell you? You see an SOS beacon? You fucking ANSWER it.

Yes, pirates pull the "help I'm stuck" trick. And yeah, there are other unscrupulous folks out there. But! That's part of why the bounty hunter's guild and pirate hunter's come down so HARD on those fuckers. If you discourage people from HELPING stranded pilots? People fucking DIE out there.

Cold Void Of Space, remember?

Far as I'm concerned? Old ship rules apply, there are enough horrors, lurking out there. We do NOT need to add to them. All differences are to be kept planet side. THEN you can kill each other.

Thank the stars, I had decided to go the back lanes. Yeah, it added a few extra weeks to my trip, that I couldn't spend on that swanky beach at Starline, but? The "road trip" through the outer edge of the galaxy had been worth it. Plenty of cool sights and fun new foods. And NOW, clearly, the much needed chance to be in the right place at the right time.

Getting my ship in close, I tried to hail the softly free floating wreck. It looked smashed. Like it hit or was struck by something at speed. They had clearly managed to slow themselves, but beyond that? I couldnt see much stabilization. The whole ship sat dark. Not good.

My dash said there was nothing to hail TOO. Fuck. I tried difference frequencies. Maybe they had a hand-held? Earpiece? Something? But I couldn't connect to anything. Find, anything. Shit! Okay. Okay! Plan B. Try to get a registration while I connect us up. Pray to which ever Gods gaurds this one's soul, that they breathe a similar gas mix.

Loading... loading...

Oh, thank FUCK!

Compatible air AND drones, someone up or out there, really DOES want these guys to live! I force myself to be calm. Rushing won't help anybody, but WILL make a mess, after all. Bring up that frustrating drone request program I downloaded on a whim. Watch as, dispite the odds, lights flicker on across the hull of the ship.

Emergency protocols engage. They, obviously, get no counter order. And? Like the beautiful, life saving, little dumbasses they are? Immediately begin to zip and trundle into position to drag the wreckage in towards my ship. Gods bless the collective single IQ point of drones. Good babies. Such good babies!

With a heavy shudder and thunk, we connect.

Already, I am hovering by the latch. Emergency kit in hand. Breather on. The second it's confirmed, I twist the latch and...Oh gods. The air that surges up to greet me is so cold, it BURNS. I hadn't even though I was sweating, hadn't noticed it, until it felt like stabbing flash frozen crystals on my face. Shit! Oh gods, oh SHIT!

I scramble down, ladder burning cold even through my gloves. Red emergency lights and terrible silence greet me. I move quick. Emergencies & Stranding classes echoing in my head. Check the warmest part of the ship first, then work your way out. If they CAN move, they'll know to retreat there.

Registration said the ship had fifteen people. No idea how many survived the impact and cold, but hopefully? All of them. I may not have the room or rations for a comfortable trip. But it'd be warm. And I could get them to a port.

They should be in the central compartment, which is usually critical storage and medbay. Getting there, the door has clearly been forced to slide open by someone with claws and blood on their hands. It couldn't close properly, they bent it getting it open.

Looking down, there... oh gods. There is A LOT of blood on the floor.

Something... someONE? Dragged to storage. Blood trails thick on the floor. There must be a preserver; trying, maybe, to keep their friends from rotting? Might be shock? And they just... couldn't figure out where to put the bodies. I shake my head, tearing my horrified eyes away. Concentrate! Save the living. The dead are already gone. Be sick about it later.

It takes the crowbar I brought, now cold enough to worry me, to force the door to slide again. The room in side is barely warmer then the air outside. But? There, against the far wall? Is just about every clothe and piece of fabric in the ship. Two emergency blankets glinting from withing the chaotic pile.

The only other people in the room are clearly dead. Injuries. He must have tried to treat them but been unable too. Regardless of what happened, I rush forward. Unearthing an unconscious Aqualin from his self made fabric tomb. The colouration might mean he's from the deep water region. But without his eyes or mouth open I can't TELL.

I hope so, his chance of survival would go up tremendously. Dragging the limp, dangerously hypothermic, man onto my shoulders in a fireman's carry, I get us the hell out. His front is stained in blood. His hands coated. Everything that could go wrong? Seems too. But if I have any say, he is NOT dying here.

Dragging us into my now cold ship, I clumsily kick at the latch until I manage to flip it closed. Just for now. I'll have to go back down for those blankets and such, to help get him warm. But first? I get my rescue set up, warming up.

A further few, brutally cold, few trips to loot the ship of what I safely can before I can close that latch for good. Lock away the horrors to be found there. Stacking everything up and off to the side for him. I'm pretty sure I even found his wallet. So at least? He won't be destitute. Then, while the droids transferred the last of the wreck's fuel? I start to bring up the heat back to normal. Slowly.

Once all is said and down, I silence the emergency beacon and send in the mandatory report. Might be a while before a cleaning crew can get out here... but, well... at least those poor bastard's family's would have some closure. Life insurance. That sort if thing.

.....fuck today has been shit.

"Ooooh go on a vacaaaaation~" Everybody said. "You're so overworked!" They had said. "So STRESSED! You definitely won't find a ship full of corpses!" Thanks for that, guys! Having SUCH a great time. No, REALLY.

Detaching from the wreckage is almost... no, IS horrific in how easy it is. It just... float away. Silent, dark, and gentle. A cold bit of nothingness, lost in the void. Sinking into the stars with it's cargo full of dead, like... like nothing happened at all. It looks so small. Just a twisted bit of metal. Drifting... drifting... away....

Even with the heaters bringing the heat back up, I feel cold.

That could have been me.

What the hell happened? I tear my eyes away from the view screen. Back down to the dash board. Standard operating procedure is to grab the black box of a wreck, even if you find no survivors. Helps universal safety innovation and regulatory blah blah blah. Had to drill it into my head to even GET my license. So... so now... there it is. Grabbed.

I... COULD look.

Fiddling with my rescues wallet, I stare at it. It's hella illegal. Breach of privacy. You can't just... just go into someone's ship and poke around. Look up where they've been and who they've been talking too about what. All their data would be on that thing. Soothing MY anxiety is not more important then THEIR boundaries, right? I should leave it.

I flip the wallet open. My rescue's smiling face grins back up at me, like some sort of dork at a photo shoot. He's leaning against an advertisement for, ironically, Starline. Probably the same beach that convinced me to go. All relaxed confidence and swagger, he looks nothing like the half frozen man I dragged from that ship.

My rescue has lost weight. A concerning amount of color. But? Looking at the rich black of the eyes and the point of his teeth? He seem to be either mostly or full blooded Deep Sea Aqualin. Thank FUCK.

There was a celebrity Tropical Region Aqualin a while back that my baby cousin was weirdly obsessed with. Not stalking obsessed, but? The "family is concerned" obsessed, you know? We all ended up learning WAY too much about their entire species. WAY, WAY too much.

Dea Sea Aqualin are apparently just? Built different. Like, "can withstand a degree of pressure and cold and would kill most others" different. The dehydration might still get him, but the cold? Might NOT.

Flipping the wallet closed, I ignore my gut. I don't need to see what's on that black box. Yeah, I'd find out what happened after they lost propulsion. But? Watching doomed men die? That's sick. There's nothing worth finding there. It's just anxiety.

I reset my next jump. The sooner we get to the next port, the sooner my Rescue (X'alus, apparently) can get help. Then? I head back to check on him. I think, he might be stirring. Approaching the mound of blankets, it turns out I'm right.

" 'rm?" He manages to slur, voices crackling like it's a fight to get anything out. "Wh're 'm? Who?"

There is no good way to tell someone a whole ship full of crewmates is... gone. But, fuck, if I don't try. Gently sitting him up, I help him drink from a hydration pouch. Little at a time, so as not to stress his likely starved stomach. He leans, boneless, towards me. Like he wishes he could drag himself into my lap. Staring like I hold the secrets to the universe.

"Pre'ty. Warm. You sav'd me?"

I nod, shooting him a smile as I tuck the blanket more firmly around him. Poor guy is still pretty weak. But he's healing fast. That's good. He smiles back, bright predators teeth glinting in the ship's light. (Bit unhinged looking, but hey, he seems loopy.)

"Y're my hero~ pre'ty, pre'ty hero~!"

"Arn't I lucky? You found me!"

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 3

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature-ish? More space violence, gratuitous descriptions of Ezra’s body 🤡

A/N: thank you to both @the-scandalorian who always sets me in the right direction and gives me the best reassurance and @bageldaddy who, I’m pretty sure, is giving me more of an education than any English teacher I’ve ever had and thank god ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

For the next couple days, it rains. 

Sheets of it pour down, a steady drum against the roof, trails of it sliding down the windows. It creates rivers in the rich soil, deep trenches that lead to even deeper puddles, and the world outside looks like a muted blur from your seat inside. A smear of dark green, a blot of rich brown, the watery shape of roots that distort with every drop. 

Tucking your knees tighter under your chin, you give your legs a squeeze, hoping to squash the restlessness that thrums through them. 

“Anything new out there?”

You sigh, knowing he’s teasing. “No.”

“Fitting, the way you can sit still for so long, Birdie. Perched there in your little nest.”

The only blanket you have pooled at your hip, your headphones on the floor, and your notebook open and face down next to them, you suppose it does look a bit like a nest. You shrug. “Not much else to do.”

Ezra fiddles with a ship part in his hand, his head bent in focus. “Always something to do.”

After days stuck inside, it doesn’t feel like it. 

You’ve combed over every inch of the pod, putting it back to rights. Cleaning every surface, organizing every cupboard. The med supplies were pulled out and meticulously sorted, the food stores combined with Ezra’s meager offerings, the dash scrubbed free of every particle of dirt that’s collected on it over the years. Your fingers finding a few rusty drips of blood that were missed, you spent more time than necessary scouring every inch of the pilot’s seat until your fingers ached. 

One untouched compartment remained: your father’s private belongings. 

“Hand me that wrench, would you?”

Ezra extends his hand, and you crawl over to the open tool kit, rifling through it until you find the one he’s looking for. Handing it to him, you abandon your seat by the window and sit next to him. His fingers are thick and long, marred with the nicks of small scars, his fingernails short and black with permanent dirt—but his handling of the part is graceful, his touch deft when he uses the tool. 

“Tell me everything he said again, from the top.”

Resting your cheek on your knee, you recite every detail you can recall, your voice monotone with boredom. 

“He didn’t say much. A group of mercs hired him to help with the dig, but I don’t know where he met them. Called “The Queen’s Lair,” it’s supposed to be an untouched dig site that holds more gems than any other on this planet. A deposit the size of this pod. Depending on his source, the whole thing could be real or it could be nothing, but either way, he thought it would make us rich. He said it would be enough to retire on, that this would be our last run.”

Ezra huffs. “If the rumor is true, then he’d be right.” He passes the wrench back, looking at you. “If it’s true.” He waits a beat. “Do you think it is?”

You still had to get used to that – someone asking your opinion about something. You shrug. “It’s possible, right?”

“Sure, it’s possible,” he agrees. “Probable, though?” 

You pause to think, and his expression softens into a smile. “A dreamer like myself, I see.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you reply. “But as long as we’re stuck here, might as well look, right?”

He nods, thinking for a moment. 

“The Queen’s Lair,” he muses, dragging the words out in a slow drawl. He looks up, wiggling his eyebrows, and a small smile pulls at your lips. 

Mirroring it, he goes back to work. 

It had taken you all of a couple days to tell him about the reason your father came here. Tossing in your lot with Ezra the second you agreed to his deal, the idea of a hidden cache of gems that had the potential to make you both rich was too valuable to keep to yourself. You had the location; he had the digging skills. You had, as minimal as they were, details about who was waiting, and he had the skills to navigate the situation. 

You needed each other. 

Cautious around him for the first couple of days, you were surprised by his geniality. For someone who appeared so ruthless when you first met him, he was…kinder than you thought he would be with you. You had remained hesitant, convinced that it was a ruse to get you to lower your defenses, but after a while, you came to see that he was just desperate for someone to talk to. 

So were you, it seemed, for how easily the words slipped out once you let them. 

After a lifetime of being left to wilt alone in empty apartments, or being dragged around the universe only to be ignored until your father needed something from you, it felt good to have someone’s attention. His curiosity about you was endless, his questions never ending, and when you answered, he really listened. Not like he was searching for anything to give him a leg up on you, but rather just openly interested. His face was expressive, his eyes fixed on yours whenever you were talking, and even when you tried to shy away from the direct attention you weren’t used to, he never faltered. 

He was patient, a gift you’d never been given from anyone. 

Unfortunately, along with that came a blossoming attraction to the man, but you pushed that down. The pod was a tight space with two people, and he was broad. You couldn’t help but notice his presence. Especially at night, when it was just the two of you. 

When a blanket of tension seemed to build across the small space between your cots. 

When it was just you and him and the darkness; the steady sound of his breathing over the thrum of your restless limbs. 

Squashing down the nagging shame that surfaced every time you remembered that he was a stranger and also a murderer, you ignored that logic and leaned into the warmth of his companionship instead. 

Besides, even if he was planning on taking advantage, what could you really do about it anyway? 

“You mentioned a map?” he says, his brow furrowing in concentration. 

You tilt your head towards his cupboard. “I haven’t checked, but it should be in there. I remember him looking at it.”

Knowing you’ve been avoiding that particular cupboard, he nods. 

“How many mercs are waiting for him at the dig?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“What terms did he negotiate?”

“He didn’t say.”

Ezra shakes his head to himself, looking up. “The more you tell me about this old man of yours, the less I’m impressed with how he treated his partner.”

“I was never his partner,” you correct. “Just his daughter.”

He gives you a level glance, and you look away. Fiddling with the leg of your thermals, you change the subject. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the pod unattended?” 

“I’m not assured that she’s fit to fly in the state she’s in, but just to be sure, we’ll take this with us wherever we go.”

He holds up the part in his hand with a smirk, and you give it a closer look, huffing a laugh when you recognize it. 

The starter. 

He stands with a soft grunt, stretching. The muscles in his shoulders shift underneath his threadbare thermals, and you keep your eyes on them when he tucks the part away in his case. 

“I’ll need a digging partner out there, if this opportunity is what you say it is,” he says. “I think we should practice some, to get you ready. Is that amenable to you?”

You bite the pillow of your lip. “He never taught me that. How to dig,” you clarify. 

“Course he didn’t,” Ezra frowns, his voice sliding low with unamused disappointment. He shakes his head clear of whatever dark thought seems to pass through his mind, his expression softening. “All the more reason.” He bends, peering out the window. “Looks like it’s tapering off. The sooner we get some practice under your belt, the better.”

A swoop of relief flowing through you at the thought of leaving the pod, it mixes with excitement at the prospect of learning something new. Your father never trusted you with the actual digging – you had been brought along to carry things, made to follow for “assistance”, but he never let you touch the blade. You’d once thought it was a father’s way to protect his child from the dangerous job but quickly realized it was born out of impatience. 

Unfurling your tight limbs when he holds his hand out to help you off the floor, you grab your suits from the closet. Slipping them on in silence, you click your helmet into place while he secures the connection of your filters, and hunching to get through the door, you follow him outside. 

The ground is saturated with water, your boots leaving clear impressions in the soil as he leads you into the forest. He’s broad, even more so with his suit on, but the trees that surround you are still big enough to conceal his entire body, not to mention yours. The canopy of lush growth glistens with droplets, shafts of misty light piercing through it to highlight the floor of moss and growth underneath you. Vines and tree roots spread and crawl underneath your feet, no visible path that you can see.  

You follow the beacon of his worn yellow suit, his voice carrying through the comm into your helmet. 

“So, Birdie,” his voice sounds deeper through the link, scratchy with static. “If your father never taught you how to dig, what did he teach you?”

You huff under your breath. “A lot of things.”

Missing the low tone of your sarcasm through the radio, he continues in his conversational tone. “Anything useful?”

“I know how to navigate.” You think of using your father’s last coordinates to find him in the seedier part of town. “I’m resourceful.” Rationing your vouchers, making sure they bought you enough food to last. “I’m actually not a bad mechanic.”

“Oh yea?” He turns to look to peek back at you for a moment. 

You immediately backtrack when you see a glimmer of hope on his face. “I mean, nothing like we need. I can try to help though, if you show me how. My father used to bring me with him everywhere but always left me behind, so I got pretty good at fixing things around the ship. He always wanted me to do the wiring because my hands were smaller than his. He said my fingers were more precise.”  

You remember the rest of it silently: the way his hands trembled and shook between doses. 

Ezra hums in acknowledgement. “And yet he never taught you how to dig?”

The moss softens your footsteps, flakes of dust floating through the thick air. 

“No,” you reply. “He tried, but…I don’t know. He was too impatient, I think.”

Memories of his harsh words come back: the biting clip of his reprimands, the disappointed yet dismissive tone he always had when it came to you. 

Ezra’s voice pulls you back. “Seems like a waste to me. If I had access to those fingers of yours, I would have made use of them.”

Your steps falter as his unearned praise catches you off guard, at his automatic assumption that skills he doesn’t even know if you have were wasted. Warmth unfurls in your chest, the edge of your mouth unconsciously lifting. Feeling slightly foolish and young at your reaction, you look down at your feet. 

You’re still thinking about it when he pushes through dense bush, halting you with his arm.  

Peering over his shoulder, you see a dark, gaping pit of disturbed earth obstructing your path. He creeps closer, toeing around the edge of it, and you follow, taking in the size and depth. Shallow but with steep sides, roots bulge out from below the soil, extending into the sky with gnarled fingers. Looking closer, you note pockets of earth gaping open just underneath each one. The whole site is eerie, appearing abandoned – though Ezra seems to know what he’s looking for. 

Standing on the edge of the pit with a narrowed gaze, he crouches, studying the crater. 

You watch with curiosity as he eases down the slope, into the dig site. Sitting on your butt, you carefully slide down the embankment to join him. 

You’re not experienced enough to know for sure, but everything about this looks barren to you. 

“Is there anything left in here?”

He flashes a smile your way. “If you know where to look.”

He paces the length of the pit, studying it. “Many sites were depleted during the Rush, but carelessness left some treasures behind.” 

He squats next to a thick, gnarled root, his helmet tilting in study. 

“Come here, Birdie.” His voice slipping into something softer and quieter, he motions you closer. “Here. You see it?”

His gloved fingers splay over the earth, dusting along tiny pin-prick holes that pierce the rich dirt, and he brushes away the crumbling top layer to reveal a deeper set. As if whatever is buried underneath needs access to the toxic air. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he coos. 

Blinking, it takes you a second to understand he’s talking to the hole he’s gently unearthing. He hums to himself, one of satisfaction when the earth tumbles away and an involuntary shiver of pleasure at the sound surprises you by rolling down your spine. Shifting your crouch, you push it down. 

“Hand me my kit?”

You reach for it, watching as he preps his tools. 

“I’ll go first, and then teach you how to do it. Watch my fingers.” 

Bracing his hand on the side of the site, he uses the strength in his other one to scoop into the pocket of soil until it completely opens. His arm disappears as he reaches into the dark pit, and trepidation spreads through you. He searches for something, his eyes lighting up when he finds it. 

"I knew somebody oughta give her a go,” he says with a smile. 

His hand wrapped around the root like a rope, he tugs with a soft grunt of exertion, and a thick, milky white root pearl spills from the hole. He keeps pulling, coaxing everything out and a bulbous pod covered in mucus emerges, sliding out onto the ground by his feet. Shifting onto his knees, he picks up his knife. 

“You want to be careful when you cut,” he starts to explain, motioning you to scoot closer. “Easy does it, with delicate things like these. One wrong move and the whole thing will go to shit.”

You hold your breath as he makes a careful incision, his knife slowly drawing across the top of the pod. Your eyes widen in half revulsion and half curiosity as it splits open, strands of thick mucus connecting each side. 

“I saw my dad do it once,” you say lowly, mesmerized by his deft movements. “Mess it up.”

The dark crown of his shorn curls shakes under the dome of his visor. “It’s a shame to waste it. All the effort it takes to get her to give it up, only to be ruined with a misplaced touch.”

A hissing sound slips through the thick air, and his fingers form a vee to hold the slick seam open. 

“That's the price for a dry breach,” he explains. “My chem will calm the brine.”

You have the bottle of pre-mixed chemicals ready in your hand, and he gives you a nod in thanks, taking it from you. Pouring it slowly into the crack, the pod disintegrates into a steamy cloud, a slimy puddle forming underneath. A core remains, and setting the bottle down, he holds up the unpolished gem. 

“Small, but still worth it.”

“You made that look so easy.” Clear experience in every movement he made, you’re still looking at the gem when he speaks. 

“Your turn.”

You look up at the words, unsure, and his gaze is steady and encouraging. “I’ll be right here. If you slip, it’s just a trial run.”

You frown in hesitation, and he chuckles. “Don’t look so serious, Birdie. The stakes are about as low as they can get. Come on.”

He jerks his chin towards something behind you, and crawling over to it, you follow. 

“Just there,” he says. “You can see her. Look.”

You follow his finger, and reaching your glove out, start to brush the crumbling soil away from the side of the pit. He guides you through every step with a patience you’ve not encountered before, every instruction murmured in a cadence so soothing that would be distracting if not for the intensity of your concentration on the task. 

Watch it, girl. Straight finger. 

You got it?

Hold it nice and tight. 

Oh. That’s perfect. 

The sense of accomplishment you feel when you hold up the gem is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. All of your other skills discovered through the lens of isolation, forged by way of necessity without the luxury of help, this one feels different. A safety net beneath you every step of the way, you know if you were to mess up, he would have saved you – but you didn’t. 

The faith he placed in you when he handed you the knife suddenly feels so much more earned, and you beam up at him with pride.  

“Not nearly as daunting as you thought now, was it?” He smiles back at you, holding his hand out for the gem. “Your father was right, by the way. Your fingers are nimble. The most precise and steady I’ve ever seen.”

You know he must be humoring you but the flush of validation flourishes in your chest as he tucks the stone carefully into the soft foam padding of his case. 

“I would have us stay out longer, but we didn’t charge the filters as much as we should have. Let’s head back and admire our loot in a more hospitable environment.”

Clicking it shut, he climbs the slope of the pit before turning to help you out. 

“Your first gem,” he muses, leading you back into the forest. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” you breathe, a small smile still on your face and you follow him, his constant stream of words fading into the background. 

Entirely dependent on the whims of your father, you’d been existing inside of an isolated bubble until now. You hadn’t been lying when you told Ezra you had no idea what you wanted to do, because the freedom to choose your own path was something that had never occurred to you. You’d been self-reliant, but always within the shadow of a burden. Your dad forced you into a caretaker role, and for the first time in years, as Ezra’s voice flows into your helmet from his, you feel the possibility of something else breaking through the fog. 

A glimmering edge of potential, the hue of an amber colored gem. 

The shift inside you sparks to life, a realization dawning on you: a life you never thought possible. For the first time since you landed on this planet, you see opportunity stretching out in front of you instead of a dead end.  Pride kindles in your chest as you walk back to the pod, and you think about sharing it with Ezra, but stating your excitement over something as routine for the competent man in front of you seems foolish. Like something you should keep to yourself, in order to protect it against the power you know other’s words hold. 

You make it to the edge of the clearing before it spills forth from your lips. 

“I can’t wait –” you start, your words interrupted by Ezra’s arm whipping out for the second time that day to stop you in your tracks. 

“Hello, stranger.”

Your head snaps up, both at the greeting itself and the tone his voice has slipped into: something colder than the easy geniality he’s been using with you all morning, an edge to it that you can sense without seeing his face.

“Can I help you?” Ezra’s hand rests on the thrower attached to his hip, and from your place behind him, you slowly reach for your own weapon strapped across your back. Peering over Ezra’s shoulder, you spot the edge of a man. 

Sneering through the visor of his dirty helmet, he looks starved, almost feral underneath the dome, his eyes dead with hunger. Dangerous is the first word that comes to mind, and when the man’s gaze settles on you, you shrink back behind Ezra.

“Pretty ship,” his voice crackles through the comm link. “Pretty girl.”

Your stomach bottoms out, but Ezra remains still.

“Both of whom belong to me,” he replies, steady and sure. 

Your fingers bury themselves into Ezra’s suit at his side, and you feel him straighten, standing taller in front of you.

“Seems like a lot for one man.” The man’s chin tilts up in a challenge, stepping closer. “Maybe I can take one of em’ off your hands.”

“As generous as that offer is, I will have to decline.” You can hear the casual smile on Ezra’s face, meant to disarm. “I’m partial to both, you see. I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

The stranger takes a step closer, testing. When Ezra doesn’t move, he takes another. 

“Actually,” the stranger confesses, “I’ve got a ship. It could use some parts, and I intended to take them from you…but I’d be willing to walk away.” He pauses a beat, tilting his head to look directly at you. “For her.” 

He smiles, and the sight of his rotted teeth causes bile to rise in your throat. 

“That is a bold offer,” Ezra drawls. “Unfortunately,” his voice dropping into a firmer tone, “She stays with me.”

The man’s greasy smile disappears, replaced with a menacing frown. 

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growls. 

Ezra stands firm, shifting to cover you with the whole of his body and a tight tension fills the air, crackling amongst the slow floating dust. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to take her by force,” the man says, taking another step forward. 

Without any warning, Ezra whips the pistol from the holster attached to his hip and fires. You shrink at the first shot, scrambling to hide by the pod at the sound of a second one, and by the third, your ass hits the ground with a thud. A cold sweat soaks through your thermals, your pulse pounding as you watch Ezra saunter closer to the dead man with a relaxed gait and aiming his gun right between the man’s vacant eyes, you flinch when he pulls the trigger again. 

A crash echoes through the field, followed by silence. 

–

“It’s really a thing of beauty, isn’t it?”

Still reeling from the confrontation outside, you blink numbly at the refresher. 

“Um,” you swallow, taking a seat. “Sure.”

He seems so unbothered it’s disorienting, and you tug your boot off, placing it on the floor next to the other one. Needing him to go somewhere else so you can process what just happened alone, you attempt casualness. “You just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna shower?”

“You just gonna watch me, or are you gonna turn around?” he mimics. 

You pause, and he grins. 

“Either way suits me just fine, little bird. Just fine.”

He crouches to dig through a bin of his belongings, and you turn your back to him, your body slipping into the rote memory as you take off your suit. The difference between who he’s been the last several days with you versus who he just turned into is jarring, a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what he’s capable of. 

“You want to bathe first, or do you mind if I have the honor?” he asks from behind you. 

“Go for it,” you reply. 

You hear him pause behind you and turn to face him. A frown pulls between his dark brows as he studies you. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you to get your own relief. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

You shake your head, just wanting him to give you space. “I’m good. I’ll wait.” 

He nods and before you can turn back around, reaches over his head to strip his shirt off with a tug. Marks of rough won survival litter the skin of his back. A gouge here, the thin stripe of a scar there; some cleanly healed, some not. He leans forward into the fresher, turning the water on to let it run for a moment and you eye the dark curls that edge the nape of his neck. The wings of muscle that make up his broad shoulders seem so much wider with his suit off, so much wider against the small opening he stands in front of, and your eyes follow the strong plane of his back down all the way down to the dimples on either side of his spine, just above the waistband of the pants he’s already working open – 

Turning, his face registers surprise when he sees you’re still looking – yet he makes no effort to cover himself. Instead, he stands taller, confident in his bareness. His chest is covered in the same marks as his back, visible strength held in his arms, and dark hair collects in a swirl around his belly button and leads down, his hand obstructing where his pants hang open. 

“I’m – sorry,” you hastily apologize, heat rushing to your face. Averting your eyes, you get a glimpse of his amused smile before you turn your back on him again. 

You expect him to tease you, but he doesn’t. Instead, the door to the fresher clicks shut and you let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding. 

Finally alone, you close your eyes. 

He killed…again. Right in front of you, shamelessly, so confident in his own skills that you never sensed even a fraction of fear. Going back to the moment you both saw the man, you focus on the memory of his calmness, on the image of confidence he presented delivering that final shot. Almost lazy with it, like he was so desensitized by killing it didn’t even register with him. 

Searching deeper, where you should find fear, you find reassurance instead. 

He’s the one that took out the initial threat of his original partner, he’s the one who buried your father like it was nothing, he’s the one who has taught you about this place. Treating you like an equal except for when he needs to take out a threat, the way he slides into territorial protection should make you worry…but instead, it makes you feel safe. 

You don’t belong to him, but you don’t find yourself rebelling against the idea as much as you probably should. The stranger meant to take you, and when Ezra told that man you belonged to him, you should have shrunk away, probably should have mentally protested. Instead, you silently clutched him tighter. 

You hear him behind the door, water splashing against the tiles as he moves around and that swirl of hair above his waistband flashes behind your eyelids, along with an image of his thick fingers. The width of his chest, the rounds of his shoulders. The muscles along his ribs. 

You jam the heels of your hands into your eyes, willing it to stop. 

He’s a murderer. He’s a thief. He’s a dangerous man who has taken advantage of a situation in order to save himself. 

And yet, you breathe out, listening to the shower – he’s saved you every time too. 

–

You stay quiet the rest of the night, sitting with your thoughts. 

He notices, those dark eyes resting on you every now and then over the map. He’d waited until you were in the shower to go through your father’s belongings, a courtesy you silently thanked him for. 

Picking at your dinner, you finally ask him one of the questions weighing on your mind. “Am I really that much of a commodity around here?” you ask. “Is a girl that…rare?”

He stops eating, his expression turning solemn. He holds your gaze for a moment, answering honestly. “You have no idea, Birdie.”

There is a weight to the answer that gives you pause, and a clear implication that confirms the worry that you’re really not safe here – not just for the reasons you thought.

You go back to eating – or rather, picking at your food – and you feel him watching you. 

“It is not my intention to scare you,” he starts, “but it is important that you stay close to me. If anyone asks, you’re mine. You understand?”

You nod, the words sparking to life an empty ache inside you, and you swallow hard. 

“Not because I own you,” he continues, “but because they need to think I do.”

“Wouldn’t being your partner be enough?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I wish it was, but they…” He pauses, being careful with his words. “It’s been a long time since these men have seen a girl. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one. Your father was foolish to bring you here.” His hand splays on his chest, his thumb catching the worn collar of his thermal. “I would never hurt you, Birdie. But them? They’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You go quiet again, and he puts his fork down, leaning in. 

“Again – I don’t say this to scare you, but –”

“That man today,” you interrupt. “How can you kill like that?”

He misunderstands your question, his body language shifting into defensiveness. 

“It was all in the name of self-preservation, Birdie. It was nothing personal. Out here –”

“Can you teach me how?”

Your question takes him aback, his eyebrows popping up with surprise. 

You let the question hang in the air between you, fully expecting him to say no. He shouldn’t help you learn to protect yourself, you know it would be in his best interest not to. Despite that, you hold eye contact with him, pleading inwardly for him to say yes. 

You know he’d protect you, but you want more freedom than that. You want more, just like he taught you earlier.

Taking in your measure for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction, his dark eyes glinting with warmth – and pride. 

“Of course.”

[nexility-sims]

𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗧𝗪𝗢 (𝟮/?)   |   NAKAWE, USPANA, 1992

Booking an evening flight had been a kindness to his future self, but Renzo reconsidered as soon as he stepped into the shadowed interior of Leonor’s house. Warm light washed over her as she hurried over, and her greeting smile exuded warmth, too. The embrace lasted forever—or, it should have, which would have been less tempting in broad daylight. It was easier to rush in the morning. Most days started before sundown for good reason. Once afternoon hit, urgency deflated like a tire with a slow leak. After nightfall came the crashes.

🅝🅞🅣🅔🅢 - i am, all things considered, extremely pleased with this one

𝟭𝟵𝟵𝟰 🅐🅤 ‣ gameplay \ prev \ next

TRANSCRIPT:

LEONOR | You look so tired. RENZO | Uh huh. Sleep when you’re dead. LEONOR | Hm.

LEONOR | —No, I just need to put on my shoes and grab a sweater—

RENZO | You said you were ready to go. LEONOR | Well, yes, but— RENZO | That’s what you said. This is wasting time.

LEONOR | Can you take off the sunglasses? RENZO | What? [Huffs] Give me a fucking break— LEONOR | It’s a wall. I don’t like it.

LEONOR | Sorry. I’m nervous now. Afraid, a little. RENZO | I know.

LEONOR | Will you bring my bags downstairs? RENZO | … How many are we talking? [Leonor chuckles]

[Renzo groans]

RENZO | Why didn’t you take any of them to the car? LEONOR | I wanted to wait for you.

RENZO | Can’t you do anything on your own, Nora? Jesus. LEONOR | Why? RENZO | Are you kidding me? [Muttering] LEONOR | Shh. It’s okay. You need to relax.

RENZO | Yeah, probably. Now, please— LEONOR | Wait. I need to go change into my sweater. RENZO | Yes, get up, and then—

LEONOR | I might change my whole outfit, really. RENZO | Everything? Alright, so— LEONOR | All of it. RENZO | Uh huh. We’ll miss the flight. LEONOR | We’re going to miss it either way, won’t we?

LEONOR | Do you think it would be expensive to ship this house? RENZO | To—? [Scoffs] What? All of this shit, that far? Absolutely. LEONOR | But prohibitively? Or too complicated? RENZO | Oh, I fully suspect you’ll find a way.

RENZO | Do you have anything in the car? LEONOR | Did you look in that compartment? RENZO | Nothing. LEONOR | Okay, well—

RENZO | There is the mobile phone. I bet he could meet us at the airport. LEONOR | Is that a good idea? RENZO | … Is it? You tell me. [Leonor sighs softly]

LEONOR | You’re already agitated, so, no, it’s not. RENZO | It doesn’t fucking matter. We’re leaving. Who cares? LEONOR | It matters to me. I need you. RENZO | Don’t say it like that.

LEONOR | It’s true. I need you fully present. I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, I’ve never flown commercial before—talk about scary. [Renzo chuckles]

LEONOR | At least I’m, famously, a “quick study and a quiet shadow.” Maybe some parts of the princess skillset are still useful. I’m not a baby.

LEONOR | … What? Do you regret it? Agreeing?

RENZO | No, not yet.

RENZO | And, just so you know, I’d have bailed at a stoplight by now if I did. [Locks click, both laugh]

RENZO | But … I did, you know, think a lot about it on the train. LEONOR | Did you? Like what?

RENZO | I finally went, “Okay, you sorry bastard, if you don’t have honesty, you have zilch, true poverty of the soul, so: brass tacks it is.” I’ve been here before. I know what’s gonna happen. Only, probably, I’ll die this time. I don’t give a shit about that, I swear to God, but … I had to ask myself, “Is that what I want, for real, or is it just the easy option?”

RENZO | It scared me after you said it, that whole, “love me like I love you” thing. I don’t know what that means. I’m sorry, but I don’t.

RENZO | I love … life, sometimes. I love just drifting through it. Loud and bright and out of control? I love that shit. I love music—it’s, that, it’s life itself. Beautiful. Pure. Mother’s milk, someone said. I love poetics. I love drugs—the "scary" ones. You’re not supposed to say it, but I do. Honestly.

RENZO | Being fucked up … That’s when I love life the most—when it’s all beautiful and pure and detached, and the music and the high are all there is. I love when nothing matters. I’d die for that. I would. I’ve tried. That’s love, right? Trying. Faith. Maybe hurts some but, fuck it, it’s alright.

LEONOR | “To love someone is to suffer for them.” That’s what we say. RENZO | Your family? It’sdepraved bullshit, so that makes sense. LEONOR | But, it’s honest, isn’t it?

[Car horn honking] RENZO | Doesn’t make it right. It’s not romantic or whatever the hell. You, yourself, deserve better. Gentler. LEONOR | I wish that were true. I know what I was born into.

RENZO | See, it’s that. I want to love you, but not like that. You’re so certain about this—about me—when the only certainties I can see are shitty. Not for you. On the train, I thought, “Maybe I need to make better choices. Maybe I have options.” Do I want to go to hell, or do I want to … entrust myself to you, I guess? I know myself. I’ve had, what, thirty years to figure it out? Yep. Those are my options. One’s good. But not for you.

[Car engine shuts off] RENZO | No, come on, let’s— LEONOR | You’re crying … RENZO | Yeah, because everything is so fucking soul-crushing.

LEONOR | Do you know what I would like to try? RENZO | Always promising when you start with that. LEONOR | It’s serious. Foreign. Brand new. RENZO | What is it? Tell me. LEONOR | “Live life one day at a time.” Wouldn’t that be nice? RENZO | It is. It will be.

[krirebr]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Curtis + bound wrists + “Mmm such a jumpy little thing, you’re not used to being treated this way, are you?”

This took me forever, but between being sick at the beginning of the week and work kicking my ass at the end, it took a while to get to a point where I could string multiple sentences together. 😂😭 But we're finally here. I'm a little afraid this is only half a hoe thot, but it's already over 600 words and I kind of like ending it where I did. This is my contribution to the Curtis successfully takes the snowpiercer and deserves a reward trope. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for playing with me!!

Warnings: dark elements, bondage, forced public nudity, threats of and implied non-con, explicit language, 18+ - MINORS DNI

Your wrists were bound with rope in front of you as you were led into the meatpacking car, wearing what you’d been sleeping in, a short nightgown. You shivered, partly out of fear and partly because it was freezing in this part of the train, nothing like the warmth you’d always had in your private compartment near the front. A group of tail-enders flanked you. They’d barged into your room in the middle of the night. They’d overpowered you, tied up your hands, and then dragged you out. You weren’t sure how long you’d walked or what was happening. The whole train seemed to be in chaos.

One of the tail-enders pushed you to the car's center towards a large man wearing a dark overcoat and a wool beanie on his head. Animal carcasses hung all around him, in the process of being butchered. He had sharp blue eyes and an intense stare that he fixed on you, like you were the most prime cut of meat in there. You tried to hold your ground but the man pushing you forward was stronger than you were. 

The blue-eyed man reached above himself and pulled down a large hook on a chain suspended from the ceiling. The men on either side of you grabbed your bound hands, raising them above your head. You tried to flail away, scream for help, but it was no use. The rope around your wrists was placed on the hook, which was then raised until you were balancing on your tip toes. 

The large man, who was clearly in charge, stood right in front of you. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and gritty. “My name is Curtis. This train is mine now.”

That could not possibly be. That wasn’t how things worked here. “What?? Where’s Wilford?!” you shouted.

He chuckled. “I killed him,” he said, plainly. 

You tried to recoil or thrash or something but suspended how you were, all you could really do was sort of sway.

“Life is about to change drastically for all you front-enders, but for you most of all.”

 “What? What are you talking about? Why me? I didn’t do anything!” you protested.

He nodded calmly. “Yes,” he said, “I’m sure that’s true. I’m sure you did a whole lot of nothing while my people suffered in ways you can’t imagine for seventeen years.”

You felt your eyes start to tear up. You couldn’t help it. You felt like you were still asleep. Maybe you were. Maybe this was just a nightmare. 

“What are you going to do to me?” you whimpered.

“I saw you, you know,“ he said, instead of answering your question. “I had to pass through the club car to get to the front. And there you were, dancing away like you didn’t have a care in the world. And I thought to myself, ‘That’s what I’ll deserve if I make it through this.’”

All you could do was look at him, confused.

“Oh honey,” he said, reaching out with one finger to brush away a tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “What am I going to do to you? Whatever I want. You’re my reward.”

In the moment it took you even to start to process what he’d said, he tore your nightgown away. He took one of your now bare breasts in his large hand and squeezed it cruelly, tweaking your nipple. You jolted at his touch, whining despite yourself. 

“Mmm, such a jumpy little thing, you’re not used to being treated this way, are you? That’s ok,” he said, with a sharklike grin that both terrified you and went straight to your core, “I’ll make sure you get used to it real fast.”

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

your knight to the rescue

pairing: dick grayson x gn!reader

WC: 1.8K

warnings: cursing, creepy older man, sexual tension? i think thats it.

summary: being a plus one has its perks and downsides.

A/N: i wrote this for @alecmores​ my editor and friend since they did a fic for my birthday this year. a little reward for having to read all my stories and listen to me talk nonsense in chat.

also tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. so if theres something that comes off as fem presenting just let me know and ill fix it!

also used two prompts from @urfriendlywriter​ , forced proximity numbers 3 and 4 

in the drafts since may13

masterlist / dick grayson

“please, y/n! you’ll be doing me a solid!”

“if you get on your knees and start begging i might consider throwing myself to the wolves.”

you were just joking, you would’ve done anything dick asked of you. but he got on his knees with his hands clasped in front of his face and put on his best puppy dog eyes. oh! he really didn’t want to go.

“y/n l/n, will you do your best friend in the whole world a huge favor and be my plus one to this wayne gala event?” he even shuffled closer and leaned his head against your thighs as you leaned against the cave computer.

without a thought you set a hand on the crown of his raven hair and run your fingers through the strands. “can we get a big belly burger after?” you know the gala will only have alcohol and finger food.

dick moved his head as his chin sat on the meat of your thighs so he could look directly into your eyes. “of course, y/n. what kind of friend would i be if i let you starve yourself on my time?”

“a terrible friend.”

“and i am anything but a terrible friend.” he groaned as he pushed himself from the floor and walked to the suit displays.

“sure you should be going out? i heard you groan from just getting off the floor, you might be getting old.” you followed behind with your arms crossed over your chest.

dick just threw a middle finger over his shoulder, not wasting his time to look your way. “fuck you. i’m in my twenties, this is my prime.”

“yeah, okay, boy wonder.”

dick grabbed his black and blue outfit before heading to a changing area. you lingered around and the silence slowly got to your head. your fingers bit into your biceps and looked down at your slippers.

“just… just be careful, dick.” you scrunch your face at your simple wording, “cause- cause i’m sure alfred is tired of patching you up. and- and you don’t want to look a mess at the gala… could cause some rumors or something.” rambling just so it doesn’t seem like you care too deeply for dick’s safety. honestly just saying, “i like you dick grayson, so don’t be an idiot as you’re backflipping off buildings.” would be a lot easier than what just came out your mouth.

dick stepped back into the cold cave and stood in front of you. his black eye mask was in place along with his gear all secured in their compartments. you couldn’t see his baby blues due to the white holes staring back at you, but he had a smirk on his lips that made you scuff without knowing his next words.

“worried about my safety?” he copied your arms-crossed stance. his head cocked to the side. you narrowed your eyes, “no shit, dumbass. you're fighting criminals, street level and insane.”

you rolled your lips, “i know it’s unavoidable at times, just…” you sighed, “just don’t get in the line of fire if you can.” you touched his arm before walking away and back up the spiral stairs.

in your rush to leave you missed how dick’s arms fell and his smirk vanished in a blink. hidden eyes watching your every step until you were gone from his sight.

-

“i want big belly burger.”

“all in due time, y/n.”

your hands tugged at the nice, but tight fabric of your black formal attire. you even shuffled on your feet, already feeling the blisters forming. you were used to loose and flowy clothing with sneakers or slippers since you worked behind the scenes.

with you knowing there would be cameras in attendance, you took extra long to make sure you were presentable and cleaned well. especially since you would be standing beside dick for most of the event, you didn’t want to look like sewer trash next to a sculpted statue.

“stop fidgeting,” dick leaned close to your ear, “you look marvelous.” his breath caressed your ear and you had to suppress the shiver it caused.

leaving the outfit alone, your hands clasped over your stomach. a more appropriate gesture than arms crossed as you stare down the boring one percenters. you could spot bruce somewhere in the distance chatting along with some people, and you could spot his fake laughing from a mile away. letting your eyes scan the room you land on detective gordon, who’s tucked away in a corner with his hands shoved in his khaki trench coat.

“looks like gordon didn’t get the dress code memo.” giving dick a hit from your elbow as you knocked your chin in the cop’s direction.

“wants a little attention. nothing wrong with that.” and something about that last part… “i’m- i’m gonna get a drink. i’ll- i’ll be right back.” and you hurried off before dick could stop you.

politely moving through the sea of people, you landed at the open bar. palms wrapping around the cool granite counter, you leaned forward and waved down a bartender. he was very handsome, but he wasn’t-

“just champagne, please. thank you.”

the flute of bubbling amber liquid sat in front of you and the bartender left to help others. you fiddled with the stem and bottom, giving the liquid a little swirling making the bubbles fizzle. you held the glass in hand as you turned your back to the counter and faced the chatting party. you needed a breather from grayson.

from the corner of your eye, you saw an older gentleman saddle up to the bar top, right next to you. to close for comfort. you could feel the air shift as he moved his arm, suit jacket popping your bubble. you stiffened, not feeling brave enough to make it obvious that he was the cause of discomfort. now you wished dick would come to your rescue and lead you away, on the other side of the room would be nice.

“may i just say,” his hand touched you, “you are a visionary.” fingers moving caused goosebumps. you had to swallow the acid rising.

“you're too kind.” fake smiled as you raised your glass. where is dick?

“are you here alone? how do you know bruce wayne?” the man questioned. moving closer, his chest almost bumping yours.

you licked your lips, “i’m a- a worker for bruce wayne… secretary. or personal assistant to mister wayne.” not too much of a fib. “and i’m here with someone. i should,” you pointed a finger at the crowd, “i should go look for him.”

the man’s grimy fingers trapped your wrist after just a step and tugged you into his body. his breathing grating against your ear and neck, “what’s the rush? i’m sure your friend can wait.”

“really, i should-“ he slipped an arm over your waist and you shut down. it’s like you were hit with mr. freeze’s ice gun.

your heart started hammering and your eyes were darting around for any sight of him. your chest was heaving, your panic growing the longer his touch and breath were on your body.

“how about we-“ “there you are, baby. i was starting to get worried.”

it’s like an angel was sent to save you from death. the chandelier lighting cast dick in a halo of blinding light. his tall stature and wide shoulders held with grace and strength. his dark black hair swept in a clean style as his piercing irises stared the man down. you heard the gasp and took a shallow breath when you felt him move away.

dick held a hand out and you grasped it like a lifeline as he tucked you into his side. arm protective on your waist and fingers splayed, it was the warmth you need after freezing to death. your arm circled his waist to pull him even closer, head falling to his chest. he even positioned himself to where you were less in the older man’s eye line, his wider frame acting as a shield.

“who’s your new friend?” dick asked. it came off playful, but you heard the undertone. he was ready to hang him upside down by his shoestrings.

“i’m not sure. haven’t been given a name.” and you haven’t. but you already have his face memorized.

the creep opened and closed his mouth. a fish gasping for water as sharks played with their dinner. you tried to give the air of innocence to compliment dick’s bomb that was slowly ticking with each second.

he stuck his hand out for a friendly shake, “dick grayson. nice to meet you…” he trailed off. waiting for the answer before he searched him up on the computer back home.

the man took his outstretched hand, “mr. cooper. pleasure to meet you.” and you saw the flash of pain over his face. dick’s grip looked like it could crush a skull.

“mr. cooper, well i hope you have an excellent evening. if you don’t mind, i’d like to steal my dance partner back.” without waiting, he walked the both of you away. you left your champagne behind without a thought.

near the edge of the dance floor on the other side was where dick planted the both of you. he held your right hand in his while his left hand settled at the small of your back. you let your left-hand rest on his strong shoulder. it wasn’t much dancing, just bodies swaying.

“thank you… for back there-“ “no need to thank me. i would do it again in a heartbeat.”

his eyes twinkled. your heartbeat stuttered.

the orchestra continued their melodic strumming and you let yourself get swept away. eyes closing, you leaned your head on dick’s dress shirt. right near his heart. the smell of citrus and pine invaded your senses and you almost got dizzy. the hand on your back pressed in harder and then rubbed along your spine.

you almost snapped your eyes open at the feeling of dick’s lips being pressed to your temple. and it wasn’t just a simple peck, it lingered. your body felt hot and you would bet ten bucks your ears were burning red. his lips moved and then he nudged his nose against your hairline as he sighed. 

“i still want a big belly burger.”

your hunger broke the romantic moment.

feeling dick’s laugh through his chest and hearing the boyish noise lit you up. pressing your chin into his shirt, you made eye contact and both flashed smiles.

“wanna ditch?” “you make it sound like high school.” hands tightening. he grinned, “you're right. i think it’s time to leave.”

and dick grayson, being your knight in shining armor, led the both of you out of the stuffy venue. and he took the waiting chariot to the closet's big belly so you could stuff your face with food you’ve been waiting to scarf down. 

and as you moaned with ketchup at the corner of your mouth and chugged soda, dick grayson thought you were the best thing to ever happen to him. and he would do anything to keep you safe and smiling.

...

[tabitha-martin]

I haven’t had my cell phone turned off since I first got one at the age of fourteen. On top of that, I rarely let the device die. The way Calvin’s knife is an extension of his arm when he’s cooking, that’s me to my iPhone. Even when I sleep it’s always within arm’s reach.

The last week without it has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Fear of being disconnected, fear of the absolute shit storm we left behind. Relief of being unreachable, basking in the moment, Experiencing bliss and love and sunshine. Insomnia and anxiety at everything going on that I’m blatantly ignoring. Mental gymnastics of convincing myself everything is going to be fine and then that actually everything is on fire.

By the time we landed at Heathrow, I was caught up in another phase of terror and dread. Our plane idled, waiting to pull into the gate. The rest of the passengers eagerly unbuckled and began to gather their things in preparation to deplane. Most of them turned on their phones. I held mine in my hands, screen black, staring as blankly at it as it was to me.

“It’s going to be okay. No matter what. We face it together.” Calvin’s deep timber was a murmur in my ear before he placed a lingering kiss on my temple. His touch was like a balm to my soul so after I hit the power button on the side of my phone, I reached out and clung to him with my free hand. He wrapped either of his around it and squeezed, reassuring me.

The screen lit up with the small white apple as the device started up and my heart raced. Every second it took to load felt like an eternity, like the end of my life. Finally, my home screen loaded and a photo of Calvin grinning greeted me. Again, I felt a sense of comfort. Safety. I unlocked the screen and waited. Notifications lit up like a skyline. Emails, texts, missed calls, voicemails, DM’s on at least three different platforms.

“I am so fucking fired.” I groaned as I stared down at all the red bubbles, feeling my stomach turn. “Quick, give me a puke bag.” I told Calvin before shoving the phone into his hands and grabbing one of the bags from the seatback pocket for myself. “Tell me how bad it is.”

I waited. Probably for about thirty or forty seconds but it felt like hours as Calvin navigated my notifications. He opened the text thread with my boss first and before I could ask he was smiling. Laughing. Fist pumping. He tossed the phone in my lap and leapt to his feet, narrowly missing the overhead compartments.

“I didn’t get my girlfriend fired!” His voice bellowed throughout the cabin. There were some indiscernible mumbles and a few scattered claps in response before I grabbed him by the elbow to drag him back to our seats.

“They didn’t say we could stand up yet.” I scolded, my eyes narrowed at him before I finally looked down at what Calvin had read.

Tabs - call me as soon as you get this. This Henry situation has escalated. We need to discuss how to proceed and what you need from the company to support you. This won’t be the last article.

Linked below the text was an article dated four days after the event. I scanned it to surmise that after the scuffle, the gossip ran rampant. So much so that Page Six reached out to Henry’s wife for commentary of his alleged student turned publicist affair. The public embarrassment must have been too much for her and the whole truth came out. The way he used power and manipulation not only against me but dozens of other girls I knew nothing about.

My heart was racing as the plane taxied into the gate but it wasn’t fear. Not anymore. It was adrenaline. It was elation. It was freedom. When Calvin and I made it off our flight, I was stepping into a whole new life - unburdened by the ghosts of my past.

[exitwound]

i woke up late for work and found eternity in the frost on my windshield

i seriosuly love when this happens when i go out to my car with the same 30 seconds i usually give myself to get in and start it and pull out of the parking spot to get to work and find that those seconds have been turned into long, terrible minutes scrambling for the snow brush and the ice scraper the freezing air mixing with the exhaust billowing out as i idle the engine blasting heat trying to make my metal beast thaw out............. did you find eternity in the frost itself, fractal-led, intricate, tiny, infinite, or did you find it in the lumen of your car where you sat staring at a windshield rendered by weather and physics and ice, impenetrable to light; your portal to the rest of the world opacified, & all that existed then was the polymerized leather cave making itself your shelter, the strange slickness of the seatbelt and the plastic moulding of the dashboard waterfalling into the indicator lights, cupholders, spare change and gum-wrappers in hidden compartments, vestigial cigarette lighter tongueing its phone-charger proboscis, the mundane realism of these hyper-engineered surfaces distorted with the cold shock of your stiff fingers, until even the pressure of the shift you're late for fades as your whole future grinds to a halt with the impossibly of driving down the icy hill ahead of you, and the hours, which awoke with you and lined-up with hot anticipation--and make up the day you might have had--cease hurtling into you like neutrons, coming, instead, to a slow roll at the bottom of this pit of stillness, where all momentum is sapped from them, and time is the petrified woodchip on the beach of the universe in which your car has been fossilized.Yes i understand because this happened to me once as well

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

You can totally delete this if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don't want to answer or anything

trigger warning : period (?)

I know you didn't describe Pup's body (and that's so great)

But i was wondering, in a world where they are afab (assigned female at birth), how would they react if they have periods?

Would their old base had shamed Pup of them? Or would Pup have something, like a treatment, to not have them?

How would Pup react if they got their period and it got a stain on their bed sheets or uniform?

(Not me again projecting myself because I have my period at the moment lmao)

✨️ anon

Yes, I like to keep most stuff for Pup gender free so that people are able to picture them being a guy/gal/non-binary wolf-person if they like! However I will happily write a lil something for if they were AFAB and had periods ☺️

You sighed and thunked your head back into the pillows, cursing softly as you felt a dreaded wetness pooling between your legs and an aching burn work itself through your tummy. Your period had started. With a small whimper you sat up and reached out for the lamp, standing away from the bed and sighing with relief when you realised that by some miracle you hadn't stained the bed yet.

However your pyjamas were another story.

There was nothing else for it, you had to raid your drawers and steal yourself to the bathroom so that you could shed them and get something to quell the bleeding. Luckily the house was quiet and dark, Ghost was asleep. At least that was something - you wouldn't have to face him seeing your dirty clothes and questioning why you were up past lights out.

After getting changed you headed to the kitchen and stuck your pyjamas into the washing machine, not thinking of anything else but hiding all evidence that you'd made a mess. Once all was clean, you breathed a little sigh of relief and sat cross legged in front of the washing machine, watching as the dark compartment filled with sloshing water and began to spin.

You were glad for being able to just deal with it right away, not having to worry about anyone else see you or judge you. The cramping, still blazing on low in your belly, reminded you of the training sessions you’d have at Branhaven, sometimes performing so badly in your dizzied and weakened state that you’d be sent to the kennels as punishment. Sometimes of course they’d catch you out from the blood on your clothes and send you off just for knowing you were on your cycle, ‘predicting’ that you’d just be a nuisance. The rest of the day would be spent clutching yourself like a feeble child, feeling dirty and sweaty the whole time until you were able to leave and change. It worse if you were actively on a mission, any little mistake would be blamed on your ‘condition’, and you’d be constantly threatened with abandonment.

“What’re you doin’ up then, ay?”

You jumped, not expecting Ghost to walk in on your late night contemplating. He shone a torch low at your feet, but from his shadowy position you could see that he was only in his boxers and t-shirt, his unmasked face was squinting out at you in the dark.

“Sorry, Ghost,” you murmured sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I had some- I had to wash my pyjamas.”

“Alright…and why’s that?” He asked, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his free hand.

“My um- my period came,” you sighed.

Ghost’s head lifted in understanding. He flicked the light on at that wall, causing you both to blink furiously. In the cold harsh light, you found your cheeks warming, now embarrassed that he was having to deal with you. You just hoped he wasn’t going to be annoyed about your upcoming performance the next day…

“You need anything?” He asked, crossing the room to the cupboard he usually kept the first aid kit in. “I got some paracetamol here if you’re feelin’ sore. Can get you a hot water bottle if you’d like?”

You blinked, not quite prepared for his pragmatism until you reminded yourself of exactly who you were dealing with. Of course Ghost would be understanding. It was obvious now, you smiled and nodded and then gratefully took the pills and glass of water he’d prepared for you.

“Go get yourself comfy n’ lie down, Pup. I’ll get your hot water bottle to you once it’s ready.”

You were about to tell him he didn’t need to go to the trouble but he shot you a hard look that wasn’t easy to disagree with. Easier to just go along with it, you decided.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said softly, smiling when he grunted his acknowledgement.

After you were settled in bed, Ghost soon joined you again and tucked the fluffy hot water bottle under the covers for you. Even after that though, he remained when you expected him to leave. He settled by your side and ran a hand over the top of your head, softly fussing at your ears until you let out a content purr like sound.

“Poor thing,” he cooed, cupping his hand over your cheek. “We’ll need to go easier tomorrow, huh?”

“We don’t have to,” you yawned, blinking back the sleep that darkened the corners of your vision. “I’ll still be putting in the effort for you Ghost.”

“I know you will, Pup,” he chuckled. “I know. We’ll see how you get on. Just do me a favour and get a good nights sleep, darlin’”

You rolled your eyes at him, but nodded. He was too nice sometimes you thought, he’d be such a pushover if you ever tried to take advantage. Not that you wanted to.

“Night Ghost,” you yawned. “Thank you…”

[21wanderer]

Strangers on a train

Body a day - #25: Choice

Five stations left… It was 20:32 and in about twenty minutes the train would arrive at Alex’s destination, where he had planned to meet up with his friends to hit the town.

For a Friday evening, it was unusually quiet in the train. Alex had the whole compartment to himself, and just stared out through the dark windows at the indistinguishable landscapes and buildings that passed by.

Down the aisle, he could see two young men walking towards him, they were laughing very loudly. They passed Alex, but from the corner of his eye, he could see, that they stopped right as they walked by. One of them poked the other with an elbow and whispering: “that one.” Ominously they sat down on the vacant seats in front of him.

They didn’t say anything, so Alex pretended he hadn’t noticed them, and just continued staring out the window. Alex were starting to feel uncomfortable. For a sliver of a second he got eye-contact with them, they were staring right back at him, one with the arm around the other’s shoulder. Alex didn’t know what it was…

Their cocky smiles or sinister stares, nevertheless he felt a sense of unease. Why would they sit here, when the rest of the compartment is empty? They have done that by choice. They looked like bad news…

”That’s not a nice thing to say.” said the guy in the tracksuit jacket. Alex was shocked. Had he really said that out loud?

The guy in the tracksuit jacket leaned forward towards Alex, Alex tried scooting back in his seat, but the guy grabbed Alex’s chin with his thumb and index finger, then with one swift move he yanked his arm upwards, Alex felt a sharp pain in his face, and everything went black.

--

Alex had no idea, how much time had passed, or what he had just experience was just a bad dream, he was laying sideways across the train seat, his face was still hurting, though he wasn’t sure why.

He pulled himself up in the seat, then almost fell out of it again as he almost died of fright, he couldn't believe his own eyes.

The two guy were still seated across from him, but now he saw his own face smiling fiendishly and laughing at him. Alex was deeply horrified at the display, he couldn't think, all he felt was fright and panic, and then he fainted again.

--

“Good choice,” said Jacob to Adam, as the two young men disembarked the train at the next station.

Adam couldn’t stop admiring his new face using his phone camera as a mirror, gently rubbing his face and running his fingers through his lush golden hair, there was little doubt that Adam was beyond satisfied with his new model-like face.

”Do you wanna go try and find his friends? Maybe you could get yourself a new face too?” Adam said, his voice now more akin to Alex’s.

”Nah… I like my face the way it is,” Jacob said calmly, “but I would like to get myself some abs and some pecs,” he added mischievously.

”Holy shit! You can do that too?!” Adam shouted unable to contain his excitement, it beamed off Alex’s face.

Jacob chuckled: ”Probably. Why not? I already discovered how to read thoughts, and how to steal people’s faces. Why shouldn’t I be able to take ’other’ things…”

”That’s so rad! Let’s go do it! I want to be bigger, something to go well with this face!”

”Sure thing, bro, let’s hit the town and see what we find!”

The two friends, Jacob and Adam Alex, headed for the station exit, looking forward to who they were going to choose next.

[imawreck]

Soldat

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Max is rescued, but she isn’t the same… and she makes a hard choice.

Warnings: Graphic like always, mentions of hospital stuff, mind manipulation, cliffhanger (sorta), scars

Word Count: 4,656

Tony-

I couldn’t figure out how it’d happened. How Bucky had went all Winter Soldier without his trigger words, or why Friday hadn’t immediately notified us.

He must’ve tricked her, but that still didn’t answer what caused the switch. Those answers would have to wait until after I wasn’t staring down the barrel of a gun, though.

Bucky spoke in Russian, and I couldn’t understand what he was saying to Rumlow. Whatever it was, the man had gone paler than a ghost in the clutches of Bucky’s metal arm. Steve shifted his weight on his feet anxiously beside me, like he wanted to intervene, but the guy was beat up as hell.

And frankly, I didn’t think anything could stop the man in front of us.

Not with the way the rage shone in his eyes, the way it rolled off of him like he could barely contain himself.

Bucky’s head snapped towards me, beckoning me forward with the nose of his gun. “Escort us to the hangar. If anything gets in my way, I’ll kill you and everyone in this building.” I took a hesitant step forward, feeling Steve’s worried gaze on my back. Bucky’s eyes snapped to Steve, “You too.” Steve limped forward, holding his ribs.

Bucky’s hand still clenched around Rumlow’s throat as he turned back to him. I watched as he set his feet back onto the floor only to kick his knees out from below him and exchange his neck for the front of his shirt. He jerked his head towards the door, eyeing Cap and I, “Elevator. Now.”

Bucky began dragging Rumlow’s struggling form towards the elevator as he kicked and screamed.

“Friday,” I said shakily, and Bucky paused at my words. His whole body tensed, cold blue eyes boring into me. I knew that if I said one single word out of line, this would be where I died. “Don’t engage alarm system. Keep us incognito.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a fraction before he was back to dragging Rumlow after us. We crammed into the elevator, both Cap and I putting as much distance between Bucky and ourselves as we could as he forced Rumlow to his knees in front of himself, metal fingers gripping the nape of his neck to force his head down.

Bucky’s gravely voice bit something out in Russian, and Rumlow shuddered. “S-she’s alive, I swear,” Rumlow answered in English, “I saw her myself.”

This seemed to both assure and infuriate Bucky. Another rumbled Russian sentence was spoken.

I watched as Rumlow’s throat bobbed, and fear leaked into his eyes as he stared at the ascending floor of the elevator. “She was undergoing an operation when I left,” he swallowed, “but she was alive.”

Again, a growled question on Russian.

“I don’t know! I was just there t-to…” It seemed Rumlow had thought better of what he was going to say, and his jaw clamped shut.

Bucky gripped the back of his hair and slammed his face into the elevator doors hard enough to dent the steel. There was a sickening crunch and a garbled cry.

“Ready a jet. Weapons, fuel, everything.” Bucky didn’t look back at me as he spoke, only kept staring down at Rumlow’s mangled and bleeding face.

I nodded, muttering for Friday to do as he asks.

When the elevator leveled out, Bucky kept us pinned with the gun as he dragged Rumlow towards the jet that was already running, fully stocked and prepped for takeoff. It was a single person jet for solo missions, nearly imperceptible if it weren’t for the tracker embedded in it.

Just as I had thought it though, he tore open one of the side compartments by the door and yanked out the wires, tossing the small tracking device to the floor and crushing it under his boot.

He leveled us with a gun one last time, eyes wild. “Don’t follow, and don’t send anyone.”

I honest to God don’t know why he hadn’t killed us already. Maybe it was because he hadn’t truly been triggered, but I didn’t know. Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason was, I was grateful when he lowered the gun and hustled into the jet, Rumlow shouting as he was dragged into the hangar.

Cap and I both watched as the jet lifted off and disappeared into cloud cover. It wasn’t long before Cap spoke.

“We should send a team after him. He’s not in his right mind.”

I scoffed, “No shit. But if we do, there’s no telling what he’d do. He’s unpredictable when he’s like this, and we don’t know if he has orders…” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. Bucky had only one mission in his mind.

Get Max back. And I don’t think he really cared what it cost to achieve it.

—————

Max-

I had somehow managed to fall asleep, albeit fitfully, after doing as much as I could to mend my mangled body.

I felt heavy, and my stomach growled loudly in hunger. My mouth was dry, and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time they had brought me rations. Maybe they didn’t plan to. Maybe this was it.

Giles hadn’t even showed up since he dropped me the meager medical box, and I didn’t know how long it had been since then. It could’ve been hours or days—I couldn’t keep track.

I shifted, hearing the clicking at my back and fighting the urge to claw at it. I hated it, whatever they’d done. It was annoying and loud, echoing in my skull whenever I moved. The lack of knowing what it was really haunted me, but I didn’t have the energy to panic about it. Not when I had more important things to focus on.

Hunger, thirst, pain.

I was wearing thin, and I think Giles knew it. He knew he was close to breaking me, and I wanted to make him hurt for it. I wanted to tear him to shreds, wanted to make him hurt the way I had for all those years. For stealing the sliver of peace I had been able to hold onto for the short time I was with the Avengers.

If I lived, I would spend every waking second hunting him until he was wiped clean from this world.

I closed my eyes, cheek pressed to the cold concrete with the intention of trying to sleep once again, when I felt the vibrations. A constant thundering, like a stampede was heading towards me.

My eyes snapped open, locking on the door as the grew more apparent. Shouts, all Russian and very panicked, echoed towards me.

“Protect the asset!”

“Don’t let him- he’s through the first blockade!”

Bullets thunked into the walls outside the door, pinging off metal and burying themselves in the concrete. The stomps still thundered, growing closer with the shouts and screaming men.

The door flung open a moment later, and a flurry of men in uniforms poured in. All of them wore worried, frightened expressions. They cleared a table, the contents atop it clattered to the floor as they hauled it over to block the door. They surrounded me, guns raised towards the door.

None of them seemed too concerned with me. Whatever was outside that door had scared them shitless.

Then the screaming started. Sharp and grating, just beyond the door. I could hear strangled yelling, thumping, and bullets continuing to puncture their targets.

I could sense the foreboding that settled into the soldiers surrounding my cell. I would’ve laughed if my throat wasn’t so dry I thought I’d choke.

Suddenly, all of the commotion outside the door stopped. The air stilled, and not a soul moved.

There wasn’t a sound when the figure appeared in the foggy glass window on the cell door. Tall, looming, and utterly still. The glass was old and covered in so much grime you couldn’t see in or out of it.

That didn’t seem to settle the men around my cage. They shook, bodies trembling and hearts pounding.

The figure moved fast, an arm coming up to shatter the small window and thrust something through it. The metal hit the ground, and a hissing filled the air.

I covered my face with my arm, holding my breath as gas filled the air and choked the soldiers. They struggled to yank gas masks from their belts, and I eyed the nearest soldier to the cell.

Shoving up from the ground, I gripped his tac vest and yanked him against the bars with as much strength as I could muster. He thudded against it, shouting, and dropped his mask to the floor. I yanked it into the cell, pushing myself to the center and out of reach as I fumbled with it. My lungs stung for a few moments before I jerked it over my head and set it in place.

I took a clean breath of air as they began to slump over. Dead or asleep, I didn’t want to know. I sucked in another breath, my eyes finding the door once more.

I wasn’t prepared to see his face, wasn’t prepared for the way it froze me in place and stalled my heart. Flashes of memories or hallucinations—couldn’t tell the difference anymore—barreled through my head. I couldn’t fight the knee jerk reaction to flinch away, to clench my eyes shut and push myself into the corner of my cell.

I couldn’t watch him die again. I couldn’t see his blood on my hands again.

The door scraped open, kicked in by his heavy boot. I heard the table screech across the concrete, and bodies slumping to the floor. Still, I didn’t look up.

I heard the shuffle of his clothes, the softest scuffs of his boots on the floor, saw his shadow block the light behind my eyelids. I knew he was right there. I knew it was him, and yet I couldn’t stop the dread from suffocating me.

It was too much stress for my abused mind, my tired body, and I felt my mind go dark just as the door opened.

—————

Steve-

Bucky- or rather the Winter Soldier- returned to the tower with Max two days after holding Stark and I at gunpoint on the landing bay.

Max was in critical condition when they arrived, and Bucky was still not Bucky. But he wasn’t completely the Winter Soldier either. Not in his actions, anyways. He’d broken into the med bay when he arrived back and had demanded that the Doctors in the wing tend to Max immediately. He was caring, even if it was through the threats on several individuals lives.

He wanted someone to help her.

The Avengers had all showed up on the level to handle him, and Wanda ended up restraining him with her magic and forcing him to his cell. He’d gone ballistic when we’d removed him, and he still remained the Winter Soldier even after he passed out after days of relentlessly roaring and slamming his fists into the cell walls.

It had been two weeks since then, and still wasn’t himself. Less Soldier and more… confused. And Max was in a coma.

The Doctors had done every test possible after she was deemed stable and still hadn’t woken up. Even brain scans, but they’d come up strangely. Her brain was active, more so than normal, but there were strange dark lines that moved in every scan. It was unnerving, and left the team disturbed when the information was shared with us. Wanda, who’d given a brief explanation of her last encounter with Max, had gone pale at the news and excused herself from most meetings regarding Max after that.

I’d catch Peter or Stark visiting her when they were free. They’d sit and talk with her, or sometimes just hold her hand and not talk at all. It was painful to watch even if Max and I weren’t close.

Because we weren’t close at all. Which really brought me to question why I found myself sitting in the same chair I’d seen Stark sitting in just a few hours ago. It was late, around eight. Most of the team had dismissed themselves to their rooms, and I’d taken one last round to visit Buck in his cell before I somehow found myself here.

I gazed down at Max, her body still, and her breathing even and deep. Still sleeping.

Seeing her like this, vulnerable and… and relaxed for what felt like the first time in a while was strange. It was almost like I could see her as just a woman, not as the thing I’d seen her as in that bunker. But I couldn’t forget that, probably wouldn’t for as long as I lived.

Still, it made me rethink the way I had treated her.

“Hey, Max.” I didn’t say it louder than a whisper, afraid she’d snap awake for some reason. “I… I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe because I need to apologize for the way I have spoken to you in the past. Maybe… I don’t know.”

I felt silly, sitting here alone and talking to a comatose girl I didn’t really know and didn’t know if I wanted to. But she meant something to Buck. And I had been unfair.

“Listen,” I took a breath, resting my head in the palms of my hands. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when you were with us in the compound. I’m sorry for assuming the worst from you, even though you’d proven to us that you weren’t what Hydra wanted you to be. I owe you that.”

I looked up at her pale face, her white lashes where they remained rested closed. “Bucky isn’t the same without you. He’s… he’s like a shell. I’ve never seen him this bad, not even before we found you. And now he’s in some sort of limbo soldier state and I don’t know how to help him. I know you would, though. You always did. Even if I disliked you for it.”

I pressed my palms to my temples. “Maybe I should… maybe he needs to see you and it would help him. Maybe if he could just be near you—.”

Something latched onto my hand, and my gaze snapped down where her hand clenched my wrist in a bruising grip. Ultramarine lines snaked out from her palm, similar to Wanda’s gift, creeping around my arm. They weren’t elegant or enchanting like Wanda’s power though. Not with the way they tangled themselves like overgrown weeds, twisting over each other as they reached towards my head.

I yanked at my hand, but her grip held fast, holding me in place as they wrapped around my neck. Part of the vining strands separated and plunged itself into my ear. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my brain blanked and my vision went white.

I thought it had, anyways. But the longer I waited, the longer I realized I was awake. That I was conscious.

And that I wasn’t alone.

Max sat on the ground in the middle of the whiteness, her expression blank and empty. She wore the hospital garb she had been in when Bucky had brought here back. The bloodied, thin fabric hung off her gaunt form.

I took a step, then another, but the closer I got, the more the whiteness around me darkened and scenery sprung around me. A cell, guards donning a red emblem that made rage flicker in my gut, and Max remained in the middle of it all.

“Max?” I kept my voice low as a guard materialized next to me.

None of what was happening made sense. I had just been in the tower sitting next to her, then here? Something was very wrong.

“Max,” I stepped closer to the cell, this time raising my voice a bit more. “Hey, it’s Steve.”

She shifted, blinking a few times and hugging herself with a shiver. I noted the cold air when she did, suddenly very aware of how real this all seemed.

Her hair fell over her eyes, and she didn’t move to fix it. “You aren’t real.”

I paused at that, frowning. I looked around, taking in the scene around me. Because that’s what I thought it was. A scene, or a memory of some sort.

I recalled the brief description of Max’s new power that Wanda had briefed us on from her experience with it. It wasn’t much to go on, seeing as Wanda was unwilling to share too much of what she’d seen. But it was the concept that I was interested in.

Wanda had seen the same disturbing blue power flaring out from Max right before she was thrown into what I could only guess was Max’s memories. Which seemed the only logical conclusion I could find as I knelt by the cell.

This must’ve been somewhere she was kept, maybe even the exact cell she was in just weeks ago. I kept taking note of what was around me, how cold the air felt, the way I could hear the shuffling of the guards. It would be easy to confuse this for reality with how detailed it was.

But certain things didn’t line up.

There was emptiness on the other side of the door to the small cell, like nothing existed outside this room. The guards eye color changed, or the weapon they held would miraculously become something different when I glanced away. It was small things, but enough to solidify my theory.

“Max.”

This time, she glanced up. Her eyes were watery and red, and her mouth was a flat emotionless line. “I really don’t need you to taunt me, Steve. Can’t you see I’m done? Can’t you see I’ve given up? It’s over!I’m tired of the pain, the hate. I’m just… I’m so tired.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” I gripped the bars, “I’m not here to taunt you, or anything like that. I…” I swallowed hard. “I was actually apologizing to you before. I knew you couldn’t hear me, but I needed to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you, how unkind I was. You didn’t deserve that. I just didn’t understand before, I didn’t know why you were the way you are.”

Her face scrunched up in disbelief as a bitter laugh echoed off the walls. “God, even my hallucinations make you sickeningly righteous.”

I blow out a breath at that, reminding myself that she doesn’t understand that this is literally all in her head. And that she does have every right to be bitter with me. I was a prick.

���This isn’t a hallucination,” I keep my voice even and low. “What do you remember before this?”

She frowned, her eyes far off and her skin getting impossibly paler. “Winter. I remember Winter outside that door.” She nodded towards the steel door across from her, and a shadow moved over the window.

I reminded myself that this wasn’t real, and focused back on her and not the looming silhouette outside of the room. “That was real. Very real. Bucky rescued you two weeks ago. You’re currently in a coma at the tower.”

Her eyes widened, and her head started shaking slowly.

“Max, just listen to me. I’m not lying to you. Bucky got you out of here. Your powers— the new ones, they’re keeping you and I in here. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting next to your hospital bed in the tower. I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.”

Max just stared and stared, her brows pitched upwards and a lost, almost helpless expression pouring over her features. After a while, she finally spoke up. “What do I do? I don’t know how to… how to get us out.”

I blew out a breath, looking around. There wasn’t anything obvious that indicated an exit other than the door. I glanced back at the cell, which now had a door where only bars had been moments ago. I blinked, “I think you just have to want to leave.” I nodded towards the cell door.

I watched her process things, her eyes flitting around the room to the guards. “They’ll try to stop me.”

I shook my head, patting my chest. “I’ll keep them from doing that if they try, okay?”

She looked at me then, a million emotions in her eyes. Vulnerability wasn’t something I was used to seeing from Max, and it twisted something in my heart.

Something I hadn’t felt for a hundred years.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

On shaky legs, she shuffled towards the cell and gripped the bars. With a gentle tug, the door creaked open and her eyes bounced between the guards. None of them moved, but I moved towards her anyway. She needed to feel safe.

I offered my hand, smiling in what I hoped looked like an encouraging gesture. She took it, her pale hand gripping mine like a lifeline as she padded quickly towards the steel door to the room. It groaned as she yanked it open, and we were plunged into reality.

———

Max-

I gasped for air, my throat burning as I registered the world around me. The real one, I hoped.

Bright lights blinded me overhead, and a tube was lodged in my throat. I reached up, yanking out the wires and needles in my arm in the process, and pulled it out. I coughed, gagging for a moment before I could finally just breathe.

Steve was slumped in the chair next to me, his body twitching every few seconds. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing steady. Alive, at least.

I gathered my wits, taking a few minutes to assess my body. Steve had said I was out for two weeks, and the improvement of my condition from the last time was proof enough. I wasn’t hungry, for one. No pains in my body. I didn’t feel like my mouth was full of sand when I swallowed, which means I was hydrated for the first time in a while.

I was… fine. Alive, breathing, and whole.

Mostly.

The clicking was still there. It reverberated through my skull making me hyper aware of every move I made, metallic and haunting.

I shoved it out of my mind, as far as I could. I just needed to get out of this bed. I needed… I needed to see what they’d done to me. I needed to make sure I was really here. That this was real and not some twisted mind game again.

With heavy limbs, I swung myself to the side of the bed. If this was really the tower, Friday would’ve already notified Tony or someone to come check on me immediately. Which meant my time frame was severely limited.

I made my way into the elevator, hustling as much as my groggy body would allow, and punched my floor number. It rose, and I counted the numbers lighting on the panel as they passed. When it leveled with my floor, I waited long enough to squeeze through the opened doors and hurried to my door. I shoved it open, noting the crumpled covers and the distinct smell of leather and that familiar cologne.

I took a moment to close my eyes, to breathe him in even if he wasn’t truly here. It was a small hint that maybe… maybe it really was real. I didn’t let it sit with me long, snapping open my eyes and storming to the bathroom.

I ripped off the hospital gown and let my eyes roam over my pale skin. Scars, all new, peppered my body where none had been before. Pale shimmering skin where my regeneration had tried and failed to heal them correctly. I lifted my eyes more, noting more as I kept looking upon my image in the mirror. When I got to my neck, my heart stalled.

There, right next to the column of my throat, was the distinct insignia of Hydra. The skin wasn’t shimmery, not completely, anyways. Like part of it had healed when I was still under whatever was in that injection. Parts of it were deep pink, nearly red against the shimmery pale counterparts. But it was unmistakable even with the frankenstein healing. Hydra had marked me permanently, like property.

Rage clawed at my chest, seeped into my veins, and solidified my resolve.

I went to the nightstand, pulling out my belongings, and then reaching under the bed for my ammo box. I set them on the covers before yanking out the duffel I hid along with them, and shoved everything inside.

I made quick work with my small closet, packing the most useful, purposeful items I owned and a few I had sentimental value in, and shoved them in too. I changed into a hoodie and a pair of cargo pants, lacing my boots and pulling my hand gun from under the nightstand, shoving it into my waistband.

I didn’t really think about what I was doing. It was instinct and muscle memory alone. When it was all done, and the room looked vacant and bare of any hint of me, I paused to think.

To consider what I was about to do.

What I was about to leave.

The tower and the Avengers had been a home to me. They’d been friends and family. I’d… I’d allowed myself to put down roots for the first time and I was about to tear them out. Tony would be devastated, and so would Thor and Peter. The others, I wasn’t so sure.

I’d hurt them. I knew what I’d done would come back to haunt me every night for the rest of my life. I knew that some of them wouldn’t be able to forgive me. That Wanda would seek me out for revenge someday and she might succeed.

I couldn’t stay. It would hurt them more than I already had. They would be better off… happier, if I did what I’d always done and disappear.

So I grabbed a notebook from my shelves, scribbled down a few things and labeled them, leaving them neatly on the bed. I hesitated a moment longer before writing something for Bucky. Even if he didn’t love me, or he wasn’t alive to read it, whatever the case… he deserved closure.

The elevator pinged down the hall, and I hauled the bag over my shoulder. With one look back around my room, I locked the door and turned towards the balcony.

When I stepped out, the cool air was welcome as it nipped at my skin. The cool metal of the hand railing was a solid reminder of reality. Of this place, and what waited for me beyond.

I glanced down at the pavement below, knowing the jump would hurt like hell. I’d live though, probably be healed by the time I made it to the end of the block.

I steeled myself with a breath, and one last look out at the city.

This would be the last time I saw it for a long time. It was time for me to start my own path, to follow my own desires and make my own decisions. I was out from Hydras thumb, and I would make sure it stayed that way forever. I would never be put in a position like that ever again, and anyone who tried to take my freedom from me again… I’d tear them apart.

It was time for a new leaf, for the past to be laid to rest. I’d rend Hydra from this earth, and make a new name for myself.

Pounding started on the door, muffled voices shouting behind it, but I didn’t turn back. Instead, I hauled myself over the railing and plummeted down…

To a new beginning.

Tags<3

@greatmistakes / @cjand10 / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @calwitch / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom / @readawaythereality2

[joeliz99]

Draco Malfoy- The Weight of Expectations

Draco Malfoy

Sixth Year at Hogwarts

As the train rumbled along, a girl walked through the moving corridors—one whom many knew but few dared provoke. (Y/N) Athens was fierce, impenetrable, and self-sufficient. She needed nothing and no one to fulfill her own needs. Her movements were calculated yet subtle, with an impeccable elegance. Her gaze swept from compartment to compartment, searching for a young man with platinum-blonde hair whom she had spent the entire summer with. Draco Malfoy had grown up with the girl from as far back as they could remember—learning to walk together, celebrating holidays at each other's homes. They weren’t inseparable or soulmates, but they had each other nonetheless. They understood the aspects of a life based on appearances; a life complicated where perfection only masked hidden imperfection.

(Y/N) and Draco had started a relationship in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Not out of love or even attraction, but to shape a marriage that would occur once they completed their education at the school of magic. They seemed made for each other, complementing each other naturally. So, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his grand return, both were swept up by the reckless decisions their parents had made. With his father imprisoned in Azkaban and a task to complete before the end of the academic year, Draco was forced to mature and make decisions that not only protected his family's reputation but also their lives. There was no room for error. And if anyone knew the strengths and weaknesses of the young man with gray eyes and pale skin, it was her. She was determined to help him even when she had no reason to get entangled in the mess Draco was in. Both were strong on their own, but together, they were unstoppable.

When she finally locates him, she approaches with her chin slightly raised and clears her throat to announce her presence. His Slytherin companions look up, but Draco keeps his eyes fixed on the window showing the path to Hogwarts. He didn’t need to turn his head to know it was her—he had memorized the scent of the lavender perfume she always wore.

— Parkinson, Zabini. — She nods in greeting, and they return the gesture. — I’m afraid it’s time for you to find another place to sit. Draco and I need to catch up. —

— Why should I find another seat? You’re the one who just arrived, — Pansy replies bitterly, shooting her a look of disapproval. (Y/N) smiles cynically and adjusts the sleeve of her shirt to make sure it’s perfectly in place.

— You know I don’t like repeating myself. Gather your things and leave now. — Pansy clenches her jaw at this and looks to the dark-haired boy for support, who is already in the process of gathering his belongings and getting up from his seat.

— Draco... —

— You heard her, Pansy. — The blonde interrupts before his companion can finish her sentence, and the people seated on the other side of the aisle laugh mockingly. — And the same goes for you, Crabbe and Goyle. Get out of here already. —

The laughter dies instantly, and the two boys leave with barely audible complaints. (Y/N) waves Pansy off with a hand and a smile still on her face, which fades as her companions disappear from view. For the first time, Draco meets her gaze and watches as she sits down across from him, her eyes never leaving his.

— I thought you’d be sick of seeing me after spending the whole summer together. I definitely need a break from you. Honestly, you’re starting to seem like my babysitter. — The girl laughs at this and rolls her eyes playfully.

— Is that how you talk to your girlfriend, Malfoy? Should I remind you of that last night we saw each other when you started to...—

— Shut up, (Y/N). — His jaw tightens as he recalls how he had turned to her with tears in his eyes and his breathing uncontrolled. Draco had been scared then, and he was still scared now. He feared becoming a killer, losing his family, and not being able to escape the reality that was closing in on him. And even though he hated to admit it, (Y/N) was the only person who truly understood him and made him feel better in moments when nothing seemed right.

— That’s what I thought. — The girl smiles with satisfaction and casually checks her manicure. — Shouldn’t you be doing your prefect duties right now? —

— I don’t feel like it. — He shrugs nonchalantly and plays with his hands as a distraction.

— You don’t want to attract attention, Draco. — (Y/N)'s features harden slightly, showing seriousness on the matter. — If you want things to work, you can’t fail in the most basic aspects of a plan. You’ll have to act as if nothing is happening, otherwise, you’ll have too many eyes on you. We don’t need that, do you understand? —

— I don’t need you telling me what to do. — The blonde retorts disdainfully. — And don’t speak in the plural as if this is something we’re doing together. I’ve told you a thousand times I don’t want you involved in any of this. This is something I have to handle alone, so focus on your own problems and leave me alone.

A silence settles between them for a moment, and Draco opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The corridor darkens suddenly, and all the students in the compartment begin to wonder what is happening. (Y/N) frowns and, hearing footsteps approaching, rises from her seat and takes a step towards Draco, bumping into someone she couldn’t see due to the darkness. The girl murmurs a small 'sorry,' but receives no response in return. Draco stretches out his hand to guide her towards him, and as she sits down, the corridor begins to return to its normal state, with everything back in its place. However, Draco’s gaze shifts to the luggage racks above them, noticing something wasn’t quite right. (Y/N) quickly notices this and tightens her grip on the table to snap him out of his trance. He licks his lips, shifting his attention from what was above to her.

— So, how much did you miss me over the holidays? — Draco drapes an arm over the girl’s shoulders, and she doesn’t protest, fully aware he was trying to divert the conversation due to an unexpected visitor.

— I won’t say what you want to hear, Malfoy. — She smiles, turning her gaze away, and he laughs, leaving a small kiss on her neck. — But you do seem to have missed me... a lot.

— You have no idea. — Draco whispers in her ear with a mischievous grin and nibbles on her earlobe, causing her to shiver, though she tries to maintain her composure and engage in normal conversation.

The next 30 minutes of the journey feel long and heavy for both young people, but they manage to keep their composure. As the train comes to a stop, night has fallen, and everyone is eager to reach the castle and fill their stomachs with the comforting, hot food awaiting them in the Great Hall. Students disembark from the carriages as quickly as their bodies allow, and when only Draco and (Y/N) are left to disembark, the girl heads to the exit and closes the door. She turns after drawing the curtains of the carriage with a flick of her wand and sees Draco holding his briefcase in one hand and his wand in the other.

— I think we have a visitor, love. — The boy comments with a serious expression, and (Y/N) nods, scanning the carriage casually.

— Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, Potter? —

Draco raises his wand and quickly utters 'Petrificus Totalus,' and a body immediately falls to the ground. The blonde walks over and removes the blanket covering the body of his most prized enemy, his face contorting with the hatred and disdain he felt.

— Oh yes... She was dead before you could even wipe the drool off your chin. — He lifts his knee and strikes Harry Potter's nose with force, likely breaking it with the impact. — That’s for my father.

— Alright, Draco... That’s enough. — (Y/N) approaches him and extends her arm, which he intertwines with his. Draco hesitates for a moment but ends up doing what she wanted after covering the young Potter with the blanket again. — Enjoy your trip back to London, Potter.

The girl nods, signaling to the blonde that it’s time to leave, and they both exit the train with their heads held high and their expressions neutral. As they are about to board the carriages that will take them to the school entrance, (Y/N) stops and adjusts Draco’s tie in silence. The boy watches her closely as she does this, and when she feels his gaze, she looks at him in return.

— There you go, we don’t want you looking disheveled... — Draco nods and licks his lower lip, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

— Thanks. — He leaves a small kiss on (Y/N)’s lips, taking advantage of the closeness between them.

— We’re in this together... — Draco nods, listening to her words, and with a sigh, he separates from her and extends his hand, offering help to her as she climbs into the carriage. (Y/N) smiles at this and ignores the gesture, easily getting into the carriage on her own. — Draco raises an eyebrow when he notices this, and the girl mimics his action, looking at him.

— Come on, Malfoy, what are you waiting for? — The boy rolls his eyes and gets into the carriage, heading towards a place that no longer felt like a second home and that would change his life completely in a few months. Hogwarts would never be the same.

[serenehells]

Vivid Shadows 2024: Dinosaur

Man is but one of many species which have stood upon the Earth. Before them, they drove great beasts to extinction, only those who evolved alongside humanity surviving. Despite it, man has come up with stories of terrible monsters, massive beasts which terrorized man in their infancy, stories to tell one another in the darkness of a fire. But as mankind’s knowledge grew, these stories of monsters fell away as simple myths and stories. That is, until the bones of these ancient beasts were discovered, as terrible and magnificent as the tales of monsters of old. As humanity’s fascination grew with these beasts, so did the desire to see them return to the world. And I worked to bring about this new age, to see these awe-inspiring beasts of old to return back to our world. I spent years of my life to work on bringing them back. But it seems it was for naught.

The program I was the head of was cut as I was on the precipice of returning them to the world, to showing everyone that it could be done and that we were the masters of nature to return these magnificent beasts back to our world. But they called me a fool for seeking it, they said this would have consequences that we were not ready to handle! I have studied these beasts for my whole life, I knew what I would unleash. But they were just afraid of this change. They were afraid of man no longer being the ones on top of the food change, afraid of the beasts we told stories to scare ourselves in the dark past becoming real. But despite it all, despite being forced to vacate my position, despite seeing them destroy my life’s research in front of me to make sure nobody could bring these awe inspiring beasts back, I was prepared.

I was prepared for these fools to let fear guide their actions and attempt to destroy my life’s work. I was ready to usher in this new age weather humanity wanted it or not. When they left me alone in my office, assured they had done anything they could to destroy the research I worked so hard and so long to get, I grabbed a vial I had stored in a secret compartment of my desk for such an occasion. It was the concentrated DNA of a whole host of predatory dinosaurs I had sequenced and studied, the mighty carcharodontosaurus, utahraptor, giganotosaurus, of course the tyrannosaurus, and my favorite species which inspired this love for these ancient beasts, spinosaurus. There were many other species whose dna was used as basis for allowing these species to return to life, notably many species of flightless birds and birds of prey. However, unlike what I planned to do initially with these sequenced DNA, this was not intended for embryonic specimens, it was intended for myself. It was one of many at least, some intended for other specimens, but this experimental one was for myself, to change me and allow me the strength to drive out these people from my facility and keep them out.

It was a choice that will change me forever, and sever me from being able to call myself a part of humanity again, but after what they did out of fear, I do not think I wish to be part of humanity, there is a new age approaching, and if humanity is not to let it come gently, then I will begin this new age with the blood of those who tried to hold me back on them. With no further hesitation I injected the mix of dna into myself, and what I felt first was a sweltering heat as my body went into overdrive to try and deal with these foreign bodies. But they would fail, I designed them to be much stronger than humanity’s poor immune systems, and soon I began to feel a sharp pain run down my spine as the beginnings of a tail began to form. It was pain, but I knew it was merely the first step to a true evolution past humanity towards something beautiful. The pain would all be worth it when I reached this perfection, perfection crafted through pain. As the pain flared up, I collapsed to the ground, and could feel my body begin to change more, bones cracking, tendons tearing, my body breaking down to recreate itself from scratch. I could feel the start of my claws grow, and my skin begin to itch. It was so much so that I had to scratch at it, and underneath, shimmering green scales now revealed beneath the weak flesh. But there was more, there was always more. My body continued to develop, the tail growing longer, and my legs taking on a digitigrade gait. Along that, the pain in my spine took a new form, as from it, a spine began to form.

But finally, it was done. Through the pain and agony, I was reborn. I found myself able to cope with the new gait rather easily, and in turn, found that I was no longer able to stand up fully in my own room, that the dna had accelerated the growth of not only new body parts, but bringing them to a size consistent to the beasts of old. But once I got my bearings adjusted, I found that my body was blessed with colorful plumage. I knew it was likely not from any of the dinosaurs whose DNA I sequenced, but that of their descendants, colorful birds. It suited me, beyond the mere aesthetic enjoyment I got from it. It also showed others that I was something large, and dangerous. I took a deep breath, and could smell the trespassers on my land. They did not know what they had unleashed. And now, with everything ready, it was time to usher in a new age, and topple man from its throne.

[yoomiwrites]

Aromatic Rush³

Summary: Reader has an easy life in the navy. Until Aokiji comes to them with a mission that calls more into question than they thought.

Note: There we go, Chapter 3. The next chapter will follow in one week OR if we get 20 reactions.

The week passed in a blur of quiet frustration. I did everything I could think of—running tests, checking the snails, monitoring the gulls—but nothing seemed out of place. There were no strange signals, no hidden patterns, nothing to suggest that the creatures I looked after were involved in the leaks. It was as if the problem Kuzan had brought up didn’t exist.

But still, the Admiral’s words stuck with me. Something was going on. And despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. It gnawed at the back of my mind, especially at night when the silence of my apartment was too still, too quiet.

I didn’t have the resources to dig any deeper. I was just one person, with limited access and limited authority. In the end, I hoped Kuzan had his own people looking into it. Surely, he wouldn’t rely on me alone for something this important. Admirals had whole networks of Marines at their disposal.

It wasn’t my problem anymore.

Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

But then, exactly one week after Kuzan’s unexpected visit, as I packed up my things after another uneventful day, I felt a strange prickling sensation. The kind that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced toward the door, and my heart sank.

There he was. Waiting for me.

Admiral Kuzan stood just outside the entrance to my compartment, his hands in his pockets, as casual as if he’d been waiting all of five minutes rather than, what I suspected, a good while. His coat hung off his shoulders, swaying lightly in the evening breeze. The setting sun cast long shadows behind him, giving the scene an oddly dramatic feel.

I froze. What now?

“Yo,” he called out, as if we were just two friends catching up. “Got a minute?”

I hesitated, considering pretending I hadn’t heard him. But I knew better than to ignore an admiral, especially one as unpredictable as Kuzan. With a resigned sigh, I stepped outside, squinting against the dying light.

“I didn’t find anything,” I said quickly, cutting to the chase. “I’ve checked everything, Admiral. The snails, the gulls—there’s nothing wrong with them.”

He didn’t seem fazed by my report, his usual lazy expression in place. “Yeah, I figured as much. But you and I need to talk.”

I frowned, not liking the sound of that. “About what?”

“Dinner.” He straightened, as if the conversation were already settled. “I know a good place. Let’s go.”

I blinked, my stomach flipping in confusion. “I—I appreciate the offer, but I can’t. I’m not really the going-out type.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That wasn’t a suggestion. It’s an order.”

I stared at him, incredulous. Was he serious? I opened my mouth to argue, but one look at his calm, lazy demeanor told me that, yes, he was. Kuzan was using his rank to force me into this.

I clenched my jaw, torn between frustration and disbelief. “Fine,” I muttered. “Lead the way.”

We walked in silence, with me trailing slightly behind as we made our way into town. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. I wasn’t used to spending time with someone like Kuzan, let alone outside of work. He was an admiral, after all. What could we possibly talk about? What did he even want?

When we arrived at the restaurant, my unease only grew. It was an expensive place, the kind with polished floors, dim lighting, and menus that didn’t bother listing prices. I hesitated at the entrance, already feeling out of place, but Kuzan breezed right in as if it were nothing.

“Don’t worry about the bill,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll cover it.”

That didn’t make me feel any better. Once we were seated, I glanced nervously at the menu, my eyes immediately going to the cheapest thing they had—a simple soup. I wasn’t about to let him spend a fortune on me. Besides, I wasn’t exactly hungry.

Kuzan didn’t seem to care what I ordered, and once our food arrived, the mood was, at first, surprisingly relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, casually watching the other patrons while making small talk that, I suspected, was his idea of easing the tension.

“Y’know,” he said, his tone almost playful, “I always wondered how someone like you ended up here. With the snails and gulls, I mean. It’s not exactly a typical Marine job.”

I ignored the meaning behind his words, my cheeks heating up despite myself. “I like it quiet,” I muttered, stirring my soup and avoiding his gaze. “It suits me.”

He chuckled, a soft, lazy sound that made me even more flustered. “Yeah, I can see that.”

I focused on my food, willing the conversation to stay in the realm of small talk, but I should’ve known better. Kuzan had a way of letting things seem easy, just before he flipped the script.

“So,” he said suddenly, leaning forward just a fraction, his voice lowering slightly. “About those leaks.”

My stomach dropped, and I looked up at him sharply. We were sitting far enough from the other tables that no one could overhear, but the shift in his tone was unmistakable.

“I already told you,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I haven’t found anything. I checked everything. The animals aren’t the problem.”

He held my gaze, his usual lazy smile slipping away, replaced by something more serious. “I believe you.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Then… why are we here? Why ask me?”

Kuzan leaned back in his chair again, folding his arms across his chest. “Because you’re the best person for this. And because I don’t want the other admirals involved.”

My confusion deepened. “Why not?”

For a split second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. But just as I was about to press further, he changed the subject with an almost theatrical ease. “Anyway, enough about work. You tried the bread here? It’s pretty good.”

I frowned, feeling the conversation slipping out of my control. I wanted to ask more—what did he mean by not involving the other admirals? What was really going on? But Kuzan didn’t give me the chance. He called for the waiter, asking for the check before I could protest.

“I’ve got something else to take care of,” he said as he tossed some bills onto the table, standing up with that same lazy, confident air. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Before I could respond, he was already making his way out the door, leaving me sitting there, my mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

What exactly was I getting pulled into?

[cosplaypandared]

My biggest challenge in crafting cosplay

It was the year 2015 when my cosband decided to make a perfect cosplay on, suddenly, the card game Magic the Gathering. We chose planeswalkers because this setting has a lot of characters, but only planeswalkers are more popular and well-known than others.

We met at a café to decide which characters we would choose to participate in the big event in another big city. My friend made a great choice, beautiful Lera picked up terrifying Elesh Norn, very tall Albert decided to make furry Goldmane Ajani, and the lightest Lin chose the heaviest Chandra. But I decided to make my dream come true and craft a dragon. So my choice was Dragon-God, Nicol Bolas.

When I mentioned my decision, one friend answered, Really? You will never make a huge dragon, with your height, your Bolas will look like a silly Pokémon. Ha! I said, "You don’t have any idea what I can create!" After this, I understood that I had embarked on quite an adventure. This was this challenge!

I had only three months to create this monster. Almost the whole costume I made myself, but when I realized I ran the risk of being late, I started to ask for help from family and friends. My husband helped me with sanitary pipes to make the wings base, my mom worked as a model; and when I tried to make this creature more proportional, my friends assisted with armor and painting wings. I finished the costume at night, with just 4 hours left before my train took off to the big city.

We ordered this taxi, arrived at this station, met with our friends, and didn't get on the train! My costume was too big to take on this train. My friends left without us. So we decided to buy other tickets for us and a ticket for a special place in the luggage compartment for the dragon four hours later. It was an emotional challenge, I realized that my creature required special attention everywhere, even with transportation. It is just this dragon's doom, I calmed myself down.

When we arrived at the next train one hour before departure. This new train master said, "We can’t accommodate the dragon because this costume is too big for this luggage compartment". This was contrary to what was said by staff at the station and this previous train director. It is just this dragon's doom, I was repeating in my head. This Dragon-God is just testing me. We ended up just buying a third ticket, and my little monster rode like a king in his own seat.

After an exhausting 3-month journey, I finally reached this contest. And here I am. This music is playing. I’m ready. My friends are going to the stage one by one, and each time this roar of this crowd becomes louder and louder. I make the first step on the spot and hear this woman's heartbreaking scream. This is it. I’m This Monster! I am the mind-ripper, the deathbringer, the winged dark that terrifies your dreams. I AM THIS DRAGON!

Of course, we won the Grand-pri in this contest. It was the Sony PlayStation II, but the brilliant thing I've won is the passed challenge. I crafted it, we brought it to the contest, and together we made the coolest group cosplay from MTG. And I’ve created the biggest mowing dragon cosplay in Siberia and possibly in all of Russia.