#i thought ohio wasn't bad

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[the-lying-heavens]

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

[notanactressyayy]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . two girls with a pure heart and the will to do the best things in the world, but forced to do the one they would never dream of doing.

warnings . red room, suicidal thoughts (lmk if i have to add more.)

notes . i'm sick, got a really bad flu — and those are somehow the only times i get inspiration to write (also when depressed <3) this one goes through red room era, so both Nat and reader are little. english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors.

divider credits: @iwonbin, @iluvrei

your 'parents' had left. they went to the store, so the house was all yours. Natasha was curled up on the corner of the couch, watching intently the movie playing on the television screen. her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen. you could tell she wasn't watching the movie. she was paying attention to the actors performance, how they expressed their emotion, how they behaved in front of the cameras.

"you'd want to be an actress?" you ask softly, making her jump slightly, breaking her trance.

"maybe." she simply replies, shrugging her shoulders. she sighs and leans back against the backrest, grabbing the remote and fidgeting with it. "you?"

"i think it would be fun." you giggle, eyebrows raising as a bunch of little scenarios played on your head. "not necessarily a movie star. just.. be able to show people how i actually feel, you know?"

Natasha hums, a small smile tugging on her lips. it was the one job that was the complete opposite from your daily life — that was what being a spy was like, hide your emotions, hide from people, hide hide hide. from everything. absolutely no one knew you — neither you did, since you had to change identities every year or so.

"i think, you could do absolutely anything you ever want to do." she says, pointing her finger at you. "if you become an actress, i will be in your every premiere, watch all your interviews, and be the first one to buy the tickets for your movies,"

you laugh, playfully slapping her finger away. "you smartass,"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

silence filled the house as everybody went to sleep, except for you and Natasha, of course. you always stayed awake late, even if one of the rules was go to sleep at 8:30pm. you both jumped out of bed quietly and hurried to open the blinds, so you could see the starry sky.

"do they really think we're asleep?" you inquire with a smirk, sitting down on the cold tile floor and patting the space between your legs.

Natasha sits down with you and carefully leans her weight against you, her head on your chest. "if you keep shouting like that they might figure it out."

you shake your head at her sarcasm and chuckle. your eyes drift to her hair, the pink strands illuminated by the moonlight. you carefully grab a few of them and begin braiding them. "when are you going to Ohio?"

and when she was about to relax, you ask the most inconvenient question in the most inconvenient time. why did you have to bring up that? Ohio was not a mission like this one — she'd meet other widows, future widows, you weren't gonna be there. and she didn't want to be away from you.

you notice how she stays silent, and decide not to push. you finish the two little braids on her short hair and coaxes her head back to your chest, arms wrapping around her.

"do you think," Natasha begins, quietly, as if this was a topic she'd like to avoid. she gulps, eyes locked on the twinkling stars. "do you think we would be happier if we weren't here?"

the question wasn't direct, but you understood perfectly. being a normal girl meant never being in the red room, which meant never meeting each other. that was a tough one, but the answer was obvious.

"yeah," you nod, shrugging, pondering. "you know, Natalia? i think that even if we were born in different families, somehow the universe would find a way for us to meet."

she smiles, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. something rare. something that didn't happen often. it quickly faded, but she appreciated that. "i hope so. because right now? i'd throw myself down this window if i could."

"so would i," you chuckle humorlessly. the life of a widow would never end up with joy, you both knew what you were submitted to.

she shifts her body, pulling her head back a little to look in your eyes. she didn't have to speak for you to understand. gratitude, longing, pain. "moya malenkaya zvezdochka, (my little star),"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"we're leaving!" you yell, a smile on your face as you watched Natasha finish adjusting her white dress. she wore black chucks and her hair was down. out of every style she ever played, this was the one you most liked. dresses.

"where are you going?" your 'mom' asks, her smile widening as she sees her daughters all dressed up.

"just riding our bikes!" you answer, putting your hair up on a ponytail and putting your shoes on. "we're not going too far, promise!"

"okay! come back before five!" the woman answers as you run out of the house, grabbing your bikes and hopping on them.

"—back before five," Natasha mimicks her with a silly face and a high pitched voice, coaxing a laugh out of you. "we know mom. you tell us that every freaking day."

and with that, you both go pedalling to downtown, which was yes, a little too far from home. Italy was very beautiful, sunny, full of joyful people around. sometimes you hated that. Natasha suddenly stops as you pass through a little flower shop. it was tiny, and the grandpa behind the counter seemed kind.

"would Natalia like to receive a flower bouquet today?" you try a rough voice, which made her laugh. you hop out of the bike and run in the store.

"ciao, bambina! (hi, little one!)" the man exclaims, his happiness almost surprising you.

"hey!" you match his good humor and point at a colorful bouquet on a basket. "how much for these?"

"these are 50 euros, but for you, young lady, i can make.. 49!" he laughs, grabbing the bouquet and carefully handing it to you.

you raise an eyebrow at the joke, grabbing the coins from your pocket and placing them on the counter. after he counts everything, you don't even say goodbye before running to Natasha again.

"here you go, malyshka, (sweetheart)," you politely bow and hand her the flowers, feigning chivalry. it seemed stupid, but her smile seemed way too genuine for your liking.

she grabs the bouquet and smell the flowers, a small tear runs down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away. "thank you,"

you nod, a little heat creeping up your cheeks. you would never receive flowers, neither from a romantic partner, nor a relative — that was for sure, so you did it, even if it wasn't real.

oh, how much she wanted to say the three forbidden words right now.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

it was raining, heavily.

the time was approaching. the time..

the time for the Sicily mission was almost over. general Dreykov, along with his soldiers would soon be there to retreat you, just like the police. it was always like that.

"come on!" Natasha calls, extending her hand for you as she steps out of the house. "we got to go,"

"gonna get a cold, Natalia," you laugh, grabbing her hand and stepping out as well. you immediately got drenched in water, shivering from the coldness.

"are you scared?" she mocks, shaking her head.

pink droplets of pink hair dye fell down the concrete ground, a colorful contrast of what it used to be. her hair would soon be blue. you didn't like that.

"where are we going?" you ask, running with Natasha as she took off the yard, leaving the household.

"anywhere," she yells back to you, running across the sidewalk, as you followed behind. you rolled your eyes slightly, shrugging.

as you ran, the cacophony of the city could soon be heard. probably your parents would realize you weren't home and call the cops or something. but that didn't matter. not when you were both trained spies. you found a small park — which was empty due the rain — and sat on one of the benches.

"i don't know if we'll meet again after this," you say quietly, finger traveling upwards to tuck a strand of pink behind her ear. "you're going to America. i'm returning to Asia. and the chance of us being paired up again is so small—"

"i love you," she interrupts, voice weak and almost tired. "gosh, i always wanted to tell you that."

your eyes widen, a mixture of foreign emotions filling your being at her confession. "i love you, too,"

"when we grow up, i'll marry you." she smiles, scooting closer. "and we'll live a happy life. we'll have a picket fence and a birdhouse. we'll have a cat and a dog and probably adopt a kid,"

tears run down your cheeks, blending with the rain droplets. you nod, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck, a hug she quickly returned.

"chertovski nespravedlivyy mir, (goddamn unfair world,)" you murmur against her skin, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"it is," she agrees, placing her palm on your cheek. "it's ironic. i'm glad you're here with me. but i don't want you to. i don't want either of us to be here."

"but we are," you whisper, taking a quick glance to the people around, seeing their gaze almost burning you. "that's how life is, i guess."

and with that, you and Natasha lost each other — having to cling to the memories, to the small comfort they brought.

because a widow never had a happy ending.

to be continued..?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Freebie!! May the house be as cooperative as possible

Logan sipped his coffee and half listened to the shower in the bathroom, keeping an ear out in case you fell or something. And tried not to hear you trying to- well.

Because that was driving him crazy. He wanted to help so bad he thought he was gonna bust. He appreciated you trying to be discrete about it though. You probably didn't understand how good his hearing actually was. Even if you did know how good his sense of smell was now- good enough to pick out changes in your scent.

But the banging on the door and Trigger barking interrupted his thoughts- and his planning.

He went to the door and looked in the peephole to see a barrel-shaped woman with steel gray, poodle-permed hair and an oxygen tank. "What the fuck-"

"Y/N will you open the damned door?" she barked. "I know you're there I can hear the damn dog."

Logan heard the shower turn off and the thud of you opening and closing dresser drawers "FUCK! Logan? Can you-"

"Got it, Princess," he said unbolting the door and taking a deep breath. There goes his nice calm day. He can feel you in the bedroom, already whipped into a frenzy. "Can I help you?"

"Where's Y/N?" she demanded. "And who are you?"

"Mom," you tell her appearing next to him and nudging him out of the way gently. "This is Logan. What- why didn't you call?"

"Since when do I have to call to see my daughter?" she scoffed, barging past both of you and flopping herself down in an armchair, almost like she was striking a pose. A queen expecting tribute.

Logan can feel you assessing the room. Taking stock. Calculating. And he can hear your heart racing as you flit towards the kitchen to make coffee for her. And put a cinnamon roll, the one you were saving for later on a plate to go with it. "Since the time you came to visit and I was at an event in Ohio-"

"You should have told me," she scolded. "You never tell me anything. Wade told me everything."

Logan stifled a snort turning it into a cough and followed you, "What can I do?" he muttered. Your hands were trembling. He could hear things knocking together from the livingroom.

"Call Wade. Tell him to stay out of here today. Then call Vanessa and tell her the same," you murmur, lips barely moving.

He nodded and took the cup and the plate from the counter for you, taking it to your mom.

"How'd you get here?" you ask, starting a cup of tea.

"Your Aunt Charlene, 'o course," she answered, inspecting the cinnamon roll. "You make this?"

"Yesterday-"

"It's dry. What's with all the baby shit?"

Logan freezes halfway to the bedroom. Listening. Phone in hand. He knew you had to control a story here. Were you going to tell her? If you didn't tell her- How were you going to explain it when there was a baby? Or if she dropped by and you were ready to pop?

"I- do you want a glass of milk? You said that was dry."

"Ugh. I don't want it, sweetie. You got anything else?"

"Sure, mom. Gimme a minute. I'll make you something for lunch. It's a long trip. Aunt Charlene didn't want to stay?"

"You know her," she snorted.

Logan exhaled and listened to you take the plate and head back to the kitchen. Wondering how many times HE put you in this spot. Managing his emotions. How many times they'd all done it to you. Your heart was still racing and now it seemed like the rhythm wasn't going to slow down. Hovering just below utter panic.

"You really should lay off the sweets," he hears, "you're getting fat."

That made him crinkle his nose in distaste. Hardly. Even if you weren't pregnant, he was pretty sure there was some shit you just didn't say.

___________

"Hey, Peanut," Wade said, "Y/N putting a hit out on you or-"

"Your mom's at her apartment, numbnuts," he hissed. "Call Vanessa and tell her. Don't wanna leave her alone too long."

"Shit," Wade groaned. "Listen. Keep your head down. Keep your mouth shut. And just- whatever witchcraft she does let her do it."

"Whatever," Logan said hanging up. It wasn't witchcraft. It was you standing in front and taking body blows for the rest of them. It was you weaving a web and doing a whole song and dance to make it all work to protect them. And he could take a few if it meant it gave you some space to breathe.

_____________________

Logan walked back out into a tirade about how everything was going wrong with the house. About how YOU had to fix it. Because WADE would have done it because he was such a good boy. A good son. And now that he was dead-

"I'll come take a look at it if you want," Logan said, taking a seat next to you on the couch. putting an arm around you possessively.

"Who're you?"

"Logan is my boyfriend," you explain, "he does construction-"

"You definitely don't wanna get fat if you wanna keep that one," she said, looking at him properly.

Logan half shrugged and pulled you closer, "She's not getting fat, trust me. She gets too much cardio for that."

When the other woman laughs and you go tense, feigning amusement at your own expense, he winces internally.

'Gotta go watch my pans," you tell him, getting up.

"None of that fancy roasted shit," Your mother called. "Cook those vegetables the RIGHT way. Like I taught you-"

"Of course mom," you hum.

Hiding. You were hiding. And he knew it. But he understood it- sort of. Too many variables. Too many emotions to need to control. You were emotional. And all you could do right now was cook. So you cooked. If you were busy and helpful no one was going to be mad at you. Not him not your mom. Not anyone.

And All Logan could do was keep her talking about the house and not the size of your ass. Drinks filled. Bones for the dog. Plates on the table. It was a flow. You faded into the background.

Taking the complaints and the demands. Serving a meal and keeping things comfortable. It set Logan's teeth on edge watching your mother treat you like the help in your own home.

But by the time she left and you handed her a check just to get her out the door, he was furious. You shut the door behind her and slid down it, wrapping your arms around Trigger and burying your face in the fur of his neck. Just sobbing.

"Princess," he said softly, "com'ere?" He felt helpless.

The dog whined and pressed closer to you, laying across your lap when you let him go. "I'm okay," you mumble. "Feel like shit but-"

Logan nodded and took a seat on your other side, "Bet you wish you could have a drink, huh?"

"So fucking much," you huff, leaning against his side. "Usually when she leaves I buy a bottle of wine and order sushi."

He smiled a little and kissed the top of your head. "Promise. I'll make sure you get your wine and sushi as soon as you finish pushing."

"That might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," you tell him.

"Also," he snorted. "You're not getting fat. You're pregnant- she's just a fucking cunt."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Route 666 | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y, d e n i a l

Word Count: 4325

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After your conversation with Dean about why you couldn’t lose him, a nagging want was tugging on your heart. 

Dean explained to you that the father of an “old friend” of his was killed last night. Your stomach dropped; knowing exactly what “old friend” meant. 

Sam did, too. “By old friend you mean...?”

“A friend that's not new,” came Dean’s gruff response. His eyes never left the road.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” Sam deadpanned. “So her name's Cassie, huh? You never mentioned her.”

“Didn't I? Yeah, we went out.”

You felt like you could throw up.

“You mean you dated somebody? For more than one night?” Sam commented.

“Am I speaking a language you're not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks,” Dean explained.

Sam pressed further, but you silently begged him to stop. You hoped his mind powers would kick in long enough to read the way your heart was begging for mercy in the backseat. “And...?” 

Dean shrugged. 

“Look, it's terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I'm not seeing how it fits with what we do. Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

‘He told her.’ You were definitely going to throw up now.

“You told her. You told her the secret! Our big family rule number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times and you tell her everything? Dean!” Sam was getting angrier by the second.

“Yeah, looks like,” Dean grumbled. 

This job would undoubtedly be an incredibly painful one.

***

You saw a beautiful dark-skinned girl arguing with two older men in the newspaper office you and the boys had arrived at. You silently pleaded for it not to be Cassie. She was stunning; nothing but long legs and slender curves. Her dark hair curled tightly, framing her face beautifully. The girl sighed and turned around as the two men walked away from her. She seemed taken aback. “Dean.”

You recognized the fondness in her eyes; it was the same fondness you were beginning to look at Dean with. 

‘Of course, she’s fucking gorgeous. Wouldn’t expect anything else from Dean,’ you thought.

“Hey, Cassie,” Dean grinned. The two stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat. “This is my brother, Sam, and this is my friend, (Y/N).”

You tried your best to smile at her; the girl had done nothing wrong. It was Dean you were beginning to get upset with.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” Dean said.

“Yeah. Me too,” Cassie muttered.

The two kept staring at each other. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, and Cassie seemed to snap out of it. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Let’s take this somewhere a bit more… private.”

***

Cassie took you back to her home and brought you a tray of tea and cups. “My mother’s in pretty bad shape. I've been staying with her. I wish she wouldn't go off by herself. She's been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

She gracefully poured some tea into a cup. “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?”

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” the young woman explained.

“A truck. Who was the driver?” Sam questioned.

Cassie handed cups of tea to each of you. You took one, thanking her as you did so. “He didn't talk about a driver,” she continued. “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad's car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

“Now you're sure this dent wasn't there before?”

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn't a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from dad's car… leading right to the edge, where he went over.” The girl took a second to get her emotions back under control. “One set of tracks. His.”

“The first was a friend of your fathers?” Dean had discarded his cup on a side table. The sight almost made you smile; you knew tea was a bit too fancy for him. 

“Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No Tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad. He 'lost control of his car.' “

“Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?”

Cassie shook her head.

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“When you say it aloud like that…” Cassie breathed deeply. “Listen, I'm a little skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffed. “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

‘Uh, oh,’ you thought, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“That was then.” Cassie and Dean stared at each other again. “I just know that I can't explain what happened up there. So I called you.”

A middle-aged woman entered the room. Cassie rushed to her. “Mom. Where have you been I was so…”

Cassie’s mom forced a smile. “I had no idea you’d invited friends over.”

“Mom, this is Dean, a… friend of mine from.... college. And his brother Sam and friend, (Y/N).”

“Well, I won't interrupt you.” Cassie’s mom went to leave the room.

“Mrs Robinson. We're sorry for your loss. We'd like to talk to you for a minute if you don't mind?” Dean stopped her.

The woman seemed slightly affronted. “I'm really not up for that right now.” She left the room, and Dean and Cassie continued to stare at each other.

***

The next day, Dean informed you of another killing that happened in a field beside the main road. Another one of Cassie’s father’s friends had been murdered. You met the beautiful woman who was bravely berating the mayor for not closing the main road; heavily suggesting there was a racist undertone behind the mayor’s motives. You admired the woman’s bravery, and wished you had those kinds of balls in certain situations. Had the circumstances been different, you probably would have been good friends with her.

You and the boys learned from a friend of the deceased that the town once was home to a family with an incredibly racist history. In fact, the big black truck the victims had described seeing was one that many black men disappeared in back in the 1960s. You and the boys walked away from the men you learned this information from and returned to the Impala.

“Truck,” Dean noted.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam added.

“Yeah, kinda like the flying dutchman,” you continued.

“Yeah, that ghost ship, infused with the Captain's evil spirit. It was basically part of him,” the younger Winchester finished.

Dean nodded. “So what if we're dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard's ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have all been black men,” noted Sam.

“I think it's more than that. They all seem connected to Cassie and her family,” Dean suggested.

“Alright, well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I will.”

Sam stopped his brother before he could get down into the car. “Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing.”

‘Stop talking, Sam,’ you mentally pleaded.

“What other thing?” Dean asked.

“The serious, unfinished business?”

The older brother remained silent, and for that, you were thankful.

“Dean, what is going on between you two?” Sam huffed out a laugh.

Dean seemed uncomfortable, as were you. “Alright, so maybe we were a little bit more involved than I said.”

“Really?” you said, unable to help yourself.

“Okay, a lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn't have.”

“Ah, look man, everybody's gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, I don't. It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

The younger brother smiled. 

“Would you stop!”

Sam just kept staring and smiling.

“Blink or something!”

The brunet simply said, “You loved her.”

You nearly choked on your own spit as Dean grumbled and turned to the Impala.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her.” Sam paused a moment before realizing, “Oh, wow. She dumped you.”

“Get in the car. Get in the car!” Dean ordered you and Sam.

You refused to continue to let Dean have that effect on you. There was no room for feelings in this profession, and you would not let them get in the way of your friendship with Dean or Sam. The former dropped you and his brother off at the motel before speeding away to Cassie’s house. You and Sam decided to get takeout and have a carpet picnic in the brothers’ motel room.

You chowed down on fried rice while Sam eyed you curiously. “What?” you asked through a mouthful of rice.

“Nothing. You just seem off,” he replied.

“I don’t know, honestly. After… everything that’s happened, I—” you couldn’t finish your sentence. “Nevermind. What’s your thoughts on this case?”

He gave you a bitchface at your change in the subject, but went along with it nonetheless. “I think our theory about the flying dutchman’s right. I’m just waiting for Dean to fill in the missing pieces.” He paused before continuing. “Speaking of which, I don’t think he’ll be back for the night? You wanna crash here?”

You smiled. “Sure. Wanna get some cheap tequila and ride the bus?” 

“You’re on,” he grinned back.

The two of you played with your deck of cards for a bit, joking and laughing about previous hunts and memories from Sam’s school days. After getting thoroughly hammered from your card game, you just talked for hours.

“My parents weren’t always… crazy supportive of me,” you explained. “I get your whole thing with college, though.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “I wanted to go to school as a teenager, actually. Was dead set on it.”

He grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah, but after my parents passed, I decided I’m better at hunting,” you replied, flopping back on the ground. “You’re hella argumentative. You’d be an exceptional lawyer.”

He chuckled at you, slurring his words together. “You really think so?”

“Yeah! Duh!”

“You’re not ever this giddy, (Y/N), how much did we drink?”

The two of you looked over at the mostly empty bottle of tequila before exploding into a fit of giggles. 

“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk ever,” you slurred.

“Yeah, ne meither,” Sam said simply.

You burst out laughing again. “Ne meither?!”

“Oops,” he giggled boyishly.

“Wait, wait, wait. I have a question. You went to school with a full ride, right? How’d you get a full ride and hunt at the same time? That’s fucking crazy.”

He nodded. “Yeah. My dad took me on hunts every once in a while between AP Bio tests.”

“Holy shit, you’re smart.”

He sighed. “Not as smart as you’d think.”

“Cut the humble crap, you’re crazy smart,” you replied, turning to him. “You give me a run for my money sometimes. Trust me, that’s rare.”

He shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“Seriously, dude. You gotta be crazy gifted. You’re a great hunter and really smart. That’s a wild combination.”

“Yeah, well, so are you,” Sam replied. 

You grinned, barely holding your eyes open. “Thanks.” You paused a moment. “You ever smoked weed?”

He snorted. “Of course.”

You mock-gasped. “Sammy, never thought you were the type!”

“Pfft, I’m not a total prude, (Y/N).”

“Well, forgive me, you don’t exactly scream ‘I chase my tequila with mary jane,’ “ you jested.

“College, man. Whole new world.”

“What was it like?” you asked.

“Meh,” he squeaked, voice breaking drunkenly. “Lots of studying. Jess was the one who got me into partying a little.”

“Yeahhh, Jess!” you cheered. “She sounds cool as fuck.”

“She was.” He suddenly got sad and sniffed a little.

You crawled over to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring bad shit up for you.”

He sniffed again and shrugged. “‘S okay, I jus’ miss her.”

“I know.” You laid your head on his shoulder and let him cry as the two of you sat next to each other in silence.

***

The next morning and thoroughly hungover, you and Sam headed to yet another field; where this time, the mayor’s car had been found. And it was in a different location than the main road. Dean met you a short time later once you’d finished talking to a cop on the scene. 

“Where were you last night? You didn't make it back to the hotel,” Sam questioned, although the subtle smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.

“Well…”

Sam grinned smugly. “I'm guessing you guys worked things out?”

“We'll be working things out when we're ninety. So what happened?”

“We got really drunk,” you muttered.

“What?” Dean looked down at you. 

Sam shook his head. “Every bone crushed. Internal organ's turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped, it's like something ran him over.”

“Something like a truck?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded and explained there had been no tracks. He went on to say that the mayor had bought the property he was murdered on a few weeks ago; which was odd given he was white and found off the main road.

Cassie and Dean were considerably more chummy after their eventful evening, and it made your stomach turn a little. He insisted on being dropped off at the newspaper office Cassie worked at while you and Sam did research on the property the mayor had purchased at the library.

You discovered the mayor’s land was where the Dorian family had lived for over one hundred years. Apparently, their incredibly racist and firebrand son had disappeared just after the string of murders back in the 1960s. Cassie explained how the Dorians owned pretty much everything in the town before Cyrus, their son, disappeared. Weeks after the mayor bought the property, he knocked the house down. The very next day, the first killing started.

***

Amidst your throbbing headache and the research you'd done, you parted ways with the brothers to rest in your motel room. You settled on reorganizing your duffel bag to keep your mind occupied, but it still wandered to Dean and Cassie. You knew you'd been cold to Dean all day, and you just hoped he was too preoccupied with his fling to even notice.

Of course, that was simply wishful thinking. A knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts.

Dean opened the door a moment later and stepped into your room wordlessly. He began to pace a little.

"Are... you okay—?" you started to ask, but he cut you off.

"What's your deal?"

"What?" you pretended to be dumbfounded.

"I caught what you said about getting drunk with Sam last night. Did you... fuck my brother?" he asked, voice teetering on rageful.

"God, no, Winchester," you scoffed. "Not everyone's intentions are sexual 24/7. We literally just played a drinking game and talked."

"Then, what's with your fucking attitude? You've been a bitch to me all day," he replied, shoulders tense.

"Have not, first of all," you began. "Trust me, if I was upset with you, you'd know about it."

"What, then? Is this about Cassie?" he questioned pointedly, staring you down.

"Dean, has it occured to you that not everything has to do with you?" you spat, becoming incredibly defensive. "I'm pissy because I'm hungover. And right now, you are making my headache a thousand times worse."

"Sorry that I was concerned about you, then," he responded flippantly.

"You weren't concerned," you laughed coldly. "You came here looking for a fight. Well, now you've got one. I like Cassie a lot, actually. Different circumstances, we'd be good friends. What I don't like is how unprofessionally you're acting."

"We fucking hunt monsters for a living, (Y/N)," Dean argued. "There's not exactly a code of ethics."

"Well, you should have some desire to conduct yourself in a professional manner. Because your main motivation on every fucking hunt doesn't seem to be hunting, it seems to be getting your dick wet," you berated, even though you knew your words were not reflective of your true thoughts of him.

"Sorry that I'm not a stuck-up bitch like you are," Dean scoffed. "You are completely miserable to be around. You always have something to be angry about. Don't you ever get tired of sucking the life outta everyone?"

You cut your eyes at him harshly, rage boiling under your skin. "Get the fuck out of my room, Winchester," you said evenly.

When he didn't move, it just added to your anger.

"I said get the fuck out!"

***

You and the Winchesters were called to Cassie’s house later that evening when she’d called Dean in a panic about the truck appearing outside of her home. You hated the way Dean sat with his arm protectively around Cassie, especially after your incredibly awkward car ride to her house where he couldn't seem to bare looking at you. He acted like you weren't in the backseat at all.

You handed Cassie a cup of tea, which she took with shaky hands. “Maybe you could throw a couple of shots in that.”

You snorted. “You didn’t see who was driving the truck?”

“It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone. Why didn't it kill us?” Cassie questioned.

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean grumbled. 

Sam turned to Cassie’s mother. “Mrs Robinson, Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.”

The older woman was shaking, pulled away from reality into her own thoughts. When her daughter’s voice brought her back to earth, Mrs. Robinson began to explain. “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can't be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well, after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Okay? Your daughter could die.” You knew Dean cared about her, and selfishly, you wanted him to be that worried about you; not her. “So if you know something, now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

Cassie went to silence Dean, but Mrs. Robinson took in a shaky breath. “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” you asked her.

“He thought he did,” she nodded. She began to get upset. “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

“Cyrus Dorian?” you questioned.

“Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

Now, you had her. “The paper said he went missing, Mrs. Robinson. How do you know he died?”

She refused to answer.

“Mrs. Robinson, please,” you urged.

She began to talk again, getting visibly more upset. “We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while; I was also seeing Martin. In secret of course. Interracial couples didn't go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus, and when he found out about Martin, I don't know, he… changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murders,” Sam noted.

You saw tears forming at the edges of the woman’s eyes. “There were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of a truck. Nothing was ever done. Martin and a... Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn't want the attention.”

“And Cyrus?” Dean prompted.

“The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children's choir practicing in there. They all died.” Mrs. Robinson clapped a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asked softly.

She shook her head as she continued to sob. “No! There was one more. One night, that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him something terrible. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn't you call the cops?” Dean questioned.

Mrs. Robinson looked at Dean like he was crazy. “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus' body into the truck, and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land, and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam said.

“And so is Mayor Todd. Now, he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?” Dean asked.

“He was a good man. He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus' disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he— he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

Cassie spoke up for the first time in a while. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought I was protecting them. And now there's no one left to protect.” She put her head down in her hands.

“Yes, there is,” Dean said, looking down at Cassie. Mrs. Robinson looked at her daughter as well before breaking down crying once more.

You and Sam left the home shortly after to get to work on finding the truck and disposing of it. Dean paced in front of you, waiting for Cassie to come bid you goodbye. You leaned against the Impala, picking at imaginary dirt under your nails. You just needed something to focus on that wasn’t Dean and your jealousy.

“Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms,” Sam spoke up next to you.

“So I guess we saved you from a boring existence,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring,” he grinned down at you.

“So, this killer truck—” Dean began before getting cut off by his brother.

“I miss conversations that didn't start with 'this killer truck'.”

Dean laughed a little. “Well, this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for forty years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam questioned.

“The construction on his house,” you shrugged. “Or, rather, destruction.”

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless.”

Dean hummed. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus' murder quiet and unsolved.”

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway.”

“You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp, right?"

Dean grinned, and you smirked despite the swirling emotions inside you. You hated how easily those green eyes and freckles could make any negative feelings you had dissipate.

“Man,” Sam groaned.

“You said it,” Dean continued to grin. 

Cassie approached your group from her house, and Dean turned to face her.

“Hey. She's asleep. Now what?” she asked Dean.

“Well, you should stay put and look after her, and we'll be back. Don't leave the house.” Dean held up a finger at her, standing way too close to her for your liking.

“Don't go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it,” she said seductively.

Dean glanced behind himself to you and Sam. You both averted your eyes while you held back the bile rising in your throat.

“Don't leave the house, please?” Dean mumbled. Suddenly, the two were kissing. You looked up at them and leaned over to Sam.

“It’s like watching a car crash,” you whispered. “With, like, kids burning in the backseat.”

Sam laughed at you and cleared his throat. Dean simply held up a finger back to you, urging you to “wait a minute.”

“You comin' or what?” Dean awkwardly rubbed his neck after he pulled away from Cassie, and you envied her ability to make Dean blush the way she had.

The drive to the Dorian property largely consisted of Sam teasing Dean about Cassie while you said nothing. Dean used a tractor that was on the property from the construction to pull the submerged truck out of the water.

Sam continued to tease Dean about how he was definitely still in love with Cassie while you continued to focus on your work. You doused the corpse in Cyrus’s truck once you’d gotten it on the ground with kerosene and watched as it burned.

“All business tonight, huh, (Y/N)?” Dean taunted, still clearly upset with you.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not particularly interested in who or what you choose to put your dick in,” you responded coldly.

“Hey!—” 

You turned to him, eyes hard. “Seriously. Let’s focus, please.”

Sam eyed you curiously while you continued to watch the corpse burn. Suddenly, the truck appeared behind you and the brothers, revving its engine.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” Sam questioned, panicked.

“I guess not,” you shrugged.

“Sure it did. Now it's really pissed,” Dean snarked.

“Great! He’s fused with the fucking truck,” you huffed. “Where are you going?” Dean was retreating to his car.

“Goin' for a little ride,” he responded.

“What?!”

“Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap: you gotta burn it.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” you argued.

“I don't know. Figure something out.” He threw the duffel bag in the trunk at you before getting in and taking off.

“What the f—” you watched his retreating form.

“You sure you’re okay, (Y/N/N)?” Sam asked you. “You seem pretty on edge.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, dude, let’s focus.” You thought for a moment before getting an idea. 

“Hey, you gotta give me a minute,” Sam said to his brother who had called him. “Let me get back to you.” He hung up.

You turned to Sam. “The church where Cyrus butchered those kids.”

He grinned. “Hallowed ground. That should work!” He called Cassie and had her tell him where the church had once stood.

Sam then called his panicking brother back and instructed him on exactly how far to drive to hopefully demolish the ghost. “Dean. You still there? Dean?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when his brother spoke to him again. “Dean, you're where the church was. The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids. Church ground is hallowed ground; whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, sometimes they're destroyed, so we figured, maybe that would get rid of it.”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker, you could hear Dean’s panic. “Maybe? Maybe! What if you were wrong?”

Sam smirked. “Huh. Honestly that thought hadn't occurred to me.”

***

You didn't make it back to the motel until almost two in the morning. Dean was still completely ignoring your existence, and he was beginning to follow Sam into their room. You stopped him just before he could.

"Dean, wait," you called out after him, resolve breaking.

"What," he almost growled, turning back to you.

"Can we talk?" you asked, eyes pleading.

Dean didn't say anything in response for a moment, and you held your breath while you waited for him to talk. Finally, he nodded slightly.

"I'm sorry," you said earnestly. "For everything that I said earlier."

He nodded. "I am, too. You're not completely misreable to be around. Only sometimes when you get bitchy." You could see the slight smirk on his face illuminated by the moonlight.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. "You can never take anhthing seriously, huh?"

"Hey, this is a chick-flick-moment-free zone."

"Seriously," you laughed, "I didn't mean what I said at all. You're... actually amazing. As a hunter, I mean," you quickly corrected yourself. "I know your first priority on hunts isn't sex."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Eh, you weren't one-hundred-percent wrong. Sorry about that."

You shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. Who or what you choose to fornicate with is your business. Even if it is the Magic Fingers machines at those nasty ass motels." A smile tugged on your lips.

He chuckled. "Well, anyway... goodnight, sweetheart." Dean turned on his heel and walked away from you, leaving you in the parking lot with a pounding heart and butterfly-filled stomach.

***

The next day, you and the brothers were leaving town. You and Sam waited in the car while Dean stood talking to Cassie. You, once again, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horror show in front of you. He kissed her deeply before climbing down into the car. You had never been so thankful to leave a town in your rearview mirror.

The car had been mostly silent for the last thirty minutes before Sam broke it. “I like her.”

Dean grumbled, “Yeah,” in response.

“You meet someone like her, doesn't it makes you wonder if it's worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?”

You watched Dean with bated breath, waiting anxiously for his answer. Instead of replying, he just took out his sunglasses and smiled. “Why don't you wake me up when it's my turn to drive?” He slouched against the window and sighed.

You shook your head and looked back out of your window, mulling over everything you’d felt during your time in Columbus. You knew feelings were not allowed in your line of work; certainly not relationships. You refused to let them interfere with your job any longer, and convinced yourself you would be perfectly content with Dean just being your friend.

After all, you'd already made it incredibly apparent that he was too much of a playboy for you. You would never be able to stomach a relationship with him because of how jealous of a person you were. And so, you decided that as long as you were with the boys, you would never, ever date Dean Winchester.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog

quite a few tags are broken :( sorry lovebugs!!

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: I Thought You Died A Long, Long Time Ago

Chapter Two: Flower In A Hailstorm

Chapter Three: Would You Like To Hear My Voice?

Chapter Four: Between Fact and Fiction, Which One Of Us Changed?

Chapter Five: Take Me, I'm Bad

Chapter Six: He's Killing Me For Mercy

Chapter Seven: You Don't Know Me

Chapter Eight: You Can't Raise Hell With A Saint

Chapter Nine: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Ever Knew You

[diyasgarden]

Part 1

Somewhere in Ohio, 2013

"You know I expected bad writing, but not whatever it was," Tashi says the minute you sit down in front of her at the restaurant. Straight to the point. No introductions. Not formalities. It makes you like her even more. You barely have a spare moment to process her presence. She was pretty in all the videos you watched and pictures you saw during the research, but in front of you she's like a goddess.

"You thought my writing would be bad?" you ask back way to quickly. You've just met her and you're desperate for her approval.

Tashi just shrugs in response, as she takes a sip of her wine. "It's a small local paper. Didn't expect some amateur Joan Didion to be writing articles."

"Well everyone starts somewhere," you say again. Once again it comes out quickly. Too eager. You're being too eager. You mentally chastise yourself for this.

Tashi looks at you for a moment as if processing your words. For a moment you think she's going to laugh in your face, but then slowly gives you a small smile. You feel like a student who just gave the the right answer in class. You have physically bite back a sigh of relief as she does so by chewing on the inside of the cheek.

"No you're definitely a gifted writer that's for sure," with a little nod, she takes another sip of wine. You want to lift up the glass and lick the mark her lipstick leaves on it. Get a grip.

"Thanks," is all you manage to say as you take the glass of water in front of you and sip on it to maintain composure.

Tashi looks at you for a moment, as if mulling over her next words. "It's a shame you're writing for a paper only people in this sad town care about."

Oh. Okay so she wasn't wrong. You only wrote here because this is your town. It's where you grew up, but not even you could deny that it was irrelevant.

"My husband is from this state," she adds with a shrug. "That's why he was excited for the article."

You know it wasn't a nice article about Art, but you can't help but ask "Did he like it?"

Tashi slowly nods in response. Oh. Not the answer you were expecting. Then she goes, "He agrees."

Your eyebrows furrow. Agreed about what? That he was only good because of Tashi?

"That you're a good writer," she then says with eye contact that you think may actually be piercing into your soul.

"Oh," is all that slips out of your mouth.

"And that your talent is probably wasted here."

You have no response to that. A part of you feels a thrill at the fact that someone so talented, can identify talent within you. The other part feels ashamed that she thinks its wasted.

Before you can put together something to say in response Tashi stands up. You watch her with a frown. She was leaving?

She stands there for a moment, just looking at you. She then lists out couple of numbers, and it takes you a moment before you realize she's saying her phone number.

"Got that?" she asks. You nod, and you both know you've already committed to memory. "Text me when you realize you could do more than this."

You just watch as she picks up the purse and slings it onto her shoulder in the most graceful way you've seen anyone do it before.

"You're not staying to eat?" the disappointment a little too apparent in your voice.

Tashi just lets out a little laugh in response as she walks away from you. You watch her retreating figure before turning back to the table she left you at.

You look at the little wine left in her glass. Without a second thought you reach over the table to finish it off, placing your lips over the mark her lipstick left.

You send her that message as soon as you get home.

[mamaestapa]

Welcome to the Jungle|| Joe Burrow x reader (Series Masterlist)

•summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•warnings: language, alcohol, slow-burn, jealousy, lots of angst and lots of fluff, smut, pregnancy, will add to this in more detail as the story progresses!

•chapters: 21/21

!IMPORTANT NOTE!

this is MY story from wattpad!! i’m transferring it over to tumblr as a Joe x reader instead of the Joe x OC that it is on my wattpad account. i do however want to make a statement that my account on wattpad IS under a DIFFERENT name!! however, it is still me. for a while, i never thought i would introduce my wattpad stuff to tumblr and vice versa, but i saw there’s a lot of stuff about joe on here, so i figured i’d share my work from wattpad with everyone! i’m under a fake name on tumblr for privacy reasons, but now that i’m “combining” accounts in a way, i will share my real name. you can continue to refer to me as abigail or as brooke. either is just fine! :)

chapters:

chapter one

•chapter summary: You arrive in Cincinnati and sign your lease to your new apartment

chapter two

•chapter summary: You move into your new apartment and meet your roommate—which ends up being quite the surprise

chapter three

•chapter summary: You’ve been living with Joe for a week now, how have things been going? While you relax by the pool, Joe brings over some guests that you didn’t plan on meeting right away…

chapter four

•chapter summary: You take the day to explore downtown Cincinnati. When you get home you find Joe engaging in some activities with a girl….

chapter five

•chapter summary: You attend your first Cincinnati Bengals game (that comes with lots fun and a surprise or two…)

chapter six

•chapter summary: You and Joe go back and forth doing things that bother one another and you get a surprise gym buddy ;)

chapter seven

•chapter summary: Groupchat with Joe and the guys

chapter eight

•chapter summary: There’s a storm in Cincinnati and you and Joe realize maybe the other isn’t so bad after all…

chapter nine

•chapter summary: You and Joe enjoy a morning together that gets ruined by an argument. Joe tries to make it up to you, but you have other plans

chapter ten

•chapter summary: You come home from your date with Evan feeling guilty and Joe, well, Joe makes a mistake and doesn’t know what he’s feeling

chapter eleven

•chapter summary: Joe struggles at practice and seeks advice from his teammates, then he comes home to a nice surprise…

chapter twelve

•chapter summary: Time skip! You and Joe decorate the apartment for Christmas! Fast forward a few weeks to Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and a couple days after Christmas…a lot happens. And what happens when Joe finds out you met someone while he was back home?

chapter thirteen

•chapter summary: Joe comes up with a plan to get Jake away from you…but does it work?

chapter fourteen

•chapter summary: You go to the playoff game Joe wanted you to come to. While you’re there, you reminisce on the last few months and figure out your true feelings for Joe…

chapter fifteen

•chapter summary: You and Joe confess your love for one another and share a very intimate moment after the Bengals win…(CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!)

chapter sixteen

•chapter summary: You and Joe have a very important conversation the morning after your post game rendezvous

chapter seventeen

•chapter summary: You and Joe go Instagram official

chapter eighteen

•chapter summary: It’s the day of the AFC championship game. Joe has some sweet surprises for you and you meet Joe’s parents for the first time. However, the night doesn’t end the way you hoped it would…but at least you and Joe have each other.

chapter nineteen

•chapter summary: Off-season adventures shown off through an instagram photo dump

chapter twenty

•chapter summary: It’s just a few weeks away from the start of a new NFL season and you and Joe have a day full of surprises that will change your lives forever

chapter twenty-one

•chapter summary: You move into your new home with Joe and reminisce on all that has happened to you this past year. You finally get your happily ever after

epilogue

•chapter summary: Instagram posts and stories from the past nine months of yours and Joe's life. A great way to wrap up the end of this series❤️

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-seven

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: fuck, it's almost one in the morning but here's the next part! I wanted things to be more spicey but I'm so tired so it lacks luster, my apologies.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough

Bringing the blanket closer to my chin, I wrapped it tighter around me as I dug myself deeper into bed. The morning rays of the sun broke through the windows of the bus showing it was well into the morning. We'd been driving for almost eight hours now, me just waking up a while ago. Last night after leaving the venue, Folio showed me around the bus before letting me get settled. Compared to the crew's bus, the guy's bus was decently bigger with six bunks, a kitchen with living space up front, and a room in the back that they used to their gaming space. I was surprised at how spacious the bunks were but figured they had to be with how tall Jolly and Noah were.

Thinking of Noah, my eyes darted to the bunk directly across from me and saw he was awake browsing his phone, earbuds in both ears. Even though we finally got past what happened that night in Chicago, there still was this weird tension between us and the only reason that could be was because what happened that night at the Airbnb.

I leaned over the edge of my bunk and patted his arm to get his attention.

"Need something?" Noah questioned while taking out an ear bud.

"Do you think we can talk about what happened the other night? At the Airbnb."

This made him drop his phone to his bed and turned on his side to fully face me, one of his arms to burry underneath his pillow.

"I thought we didn't need to talk about it. You said it was a onetime thing," Noah reminded me.

"I know," I sighed. "And I meant it. But I don't want things to get awkward between us because of it."

Noah gave me a warm smile. "It's only awkward if one of us makes it and I don't plan too."

"Me either," I matched his smile.

We watched each other for a few more beats before Jolly popped his head through the door that closed off the bunks to the front of the bus.

"Oh, good. You're awake," he motioned towards Noah. "We've got a problem."

Those words made me sit up in my bunk while Noah stood to his feet, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair to fix it.

"What's up?"

Jolly told him to follow which he did but curiosity also weighed heavily on me so I did as well, seeing that both of the Nick's were awake, sitting on the couches. Noah sat down at the table in the kitchen while I sat across from him.

"Breakfast?" Nick asked while holding up a box of cereal.

"Please," I said with a smile.

With the bowl of cereal in front of me, I listened as Jolly explained what their problem was.

"They canceled the festival tomorrow. I guess Ohio was hit with some nasty storms so they thought better to be safe."

Noah's shoulders fell in disappointment.

"Damn. We're almost there, aren't we?" He asked.

Folio nodded. "The rest of the crew arrived about two hours ago. Matt's trying to figure out what to do."

"Should we head to the next city?" Nick suggested.

"Maybe we should meet up with the others and we can all leave together," Jolly said.

Noah rubbed at the faint stubble that covered his chin. "I feel bad for the fans."

Just then, as I was sitting there quietly eating my cereal, an idea sprouted in my mind but I thought it would be best to keep it to myself. This seemed like a Bad Omens meeting, yet they were willingly talking about any possible plans in front of me.

I took my bowl to the sink in the small kitchen to wash it and once finished; I turned on my heels and grabbed the edge of the counter behind me.

"I may have an idea," I muttered.

Four sets of eyes fell on me and Noah raised a brow at me.

"About?"

I took a deep breath, gaining the courage to tell them about this grand idea.

"So you guys feel terrible about the festival being canceled because you want to play for the fans, right?"

When they nodded, I felt stronger so stood up straighter. "What if you guys do this pop up event?"

"Pop up event?" Jolly repeated.

"Yeah," I nodded this time. "I've seen a few bands do this, and it was really popular with their fans. We can rent out a place to set up a table where fans can come get autographs and set up the merch booth so they can buy merch; that way they can still see you guys. We'll sell a certain amount of tickets for this."

Noah and Jolly shared a look while Folio gave me a huge smile, clearly loving the idea.

"Do you think it's sort of last minute?" Nick asked.

I scoffed lightly. "You guys seem to forget about much your fans love you. If we announce this, I guarantee tickets will sell out in a few hours."

"I like it," Jolly admitted. "But what about the people that already bought tickets to see a concert?"

My bottom lip caught between my teeth as I thought of something else they could do. Just because they couldn't play at the festival didn't mean they couldn't play somewhere else.

"What if you guys play somewhere else?" I asked.

Noah hesitated with apprehension as he leaned his arm over the back of his seat and I did my best not to gawk at the tattoos that rippled against the muscles of his arms. I needed to stay focused so I can prove to them that my crazy, last-minute idea wasn't that; crazy.

"I don't know, Y/N. It might be hard to book something so last minute," Folio spoke next.

My arms crossed over my chest, and I tapped my foot in agitation. "You're supposed to be on my side, Folio."

He held up his hands. "Trust me, I am. I like the idea of the pop up event but the last minute show might be harder to pull off."

"Please," I waved him off. "Someone in Ohio owes me a favor, a huge one at that. Give me some time and I'll get it all handled."

"Who do you know in Ohio?" Nick wondered.

"Some guy," I shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

Noah, however, thought it was because a muscle in his jaw ticked as his shoulders went rigid.

"An ex?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Aw, are you jealous, Noah?" I leaned over the table closer to him. "That's cute, but no. Someone I met while I was in college. I've never had a boyfriend."

"Really?" Noah asked.

I didn't miss the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. I've had hook ups during college but nothing ever turned serious. None of them were worth to have a future with."

He shifted in his seat and I worried I might have said something wrong but when he pulled me down into the seat next to him, Noah slid over his laptop in front of me.

"You want to prove to us you can do this, better get started," he smirked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can have a little faith in me."

Noah bumped his shoulder with mine and stayed leaning into me. "I have the upmost faith in you, angel. That you won't pull this off."

Now my eyes buldged almost out of my head as a squeak of disbelieve fell from my lips.

"What do I get when I pull this off?" I debated with him.

The rest of the guys looked on amused, waiting to see what Noah would say.

"What do you want?" He shrugged.

I thought about it for a long moment, making a show of tapping my head with a finger, like how Winnie the Pooh did in the movie. Although, I put some thought to it because Noah Sebastian was asking what I wanted.

So many fucking things if they were coming from you.

Instead of something risqué, I chose something tamer and when the thought graced my mind, a large grin pulled at my lips.

"If I'm able to book the pop up and show successfully, I get to design your next tattoo."

Expecting him to say no, Noah simply leaned back into his seat to show his covered arms in tattoos then lifted his legs, not showing much space of skin.

"I have little space left but for you, angel. I'd find even a sliver of skin. You've got yourself a deal."

With that, I cracked my fingers and went to work finding not only a place to host their pop up event but also a concert. They were supposed to be playing in Cleveland so I started looking for smaller halls that could house the pop up event.

While I worked, Jolly went off to fill in Matt about my idea. Both of the Nicks retreated to the back area of the bus to play some kind of video game, and Noah moved from his spot next to me to the couch so he could stretch his long body. We didn't speak, letting the silence fall around us like a blanket, but I felt his gaze on my often. At one point, I looked over the laptop at him and noticed he was watching me with a smile.

"What? Is there something on my face?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"No," he shook his head. "You look beautiful, angel."

I blushed, the warmth vibrating throughout my entire existence.

"Right."

Noah sat up straighter on the couch so he could see me better.

"You don't believe me?" He asked.

I shrugged. "For someone who barley talked to me last tour and when this one started, you're getting pretty cheeky with me."

"You're also not as closed off as you were last time," Noah noted.

"Well, I thought you hated me," I grumbled, eyes scanning the screen in front of me.

Noah came to sit in front of me and shut the laptop so we had to look at each other. There was a dull look of hurt in his brown iris'.

"You thought I hated you?" His voice was quiet, almost broken.

I shrugged one shoulder while pulling at a loose fabric on my sweatpants. "You didn't talk to me much so I thought I'd done something."

"Angel," Noah sighed.

"Don't say it's because of what happened in Chicago," I interrupted. "I felt this way long before then."

He fell back into the bench seat behind him, a low noise crawling its way through his throat, my confession taking him by surprise.

"I never hated you, Y/N. Even what happened after Chicago. And let me set the record straight; I never hated you because of what happened that night. I was upset that you could of seriously been hurt and never realized it."

My eyes cast down to my hands that were now folded together on the table in front of me.

"I know," I whispered.

Noah reached over and linked our hands together. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I've said and how I've been towards you. Please know I never hated you."

I swallowed thickly at his apology; it was sincere. Probably the first time I'd ever hear something so truthful from Noah. I gave his hand a tight squeeze, letting him know I accepted his apology.

Feeling better about our conversation, Noah put the laptop back in front of me and now watched me from right across of the table. My phone was set on the table next to it and it began flashing with notifications from Only Fans so I quickly flipped it over so Noah didn't notice.

It's been a few days since I posted anything and my subscriber count went up a few but still not enough to be making a lot of money. I knew it was because the things I posted were tame compared to what was already on the sight from others but I wasn't willing to change my rules. This was only a temporary thing so I could pay Lana until I was back home. Then I would deactivate my account.

"Hiding something?" Noah questioned with a knowing smug smile as he peered over the laptop.

"Nope, just stupid emails," I lied and forced my eyes to look back at the screen in front of me.

I had a message up to my old college lab partner, wondering if he still had that hook up with someone from the local mall in Cleveland. There was a decent sized space that was used to be rented out for meetings or parties. It would be perfect for the pop up event.

A notification of a new email popped up on the corner of the screen and seeing who it was from, I clicked on it.

Dear MS. Y/L/N,

I'm glad that you reached out. We heard about the cancelation of the festival because of the weather. We here at House of Blues would love to have Bad Omens play here tomorrow night. Attached is a copy of the contact that can be signed then sent over. I hope you understand that with it being a last-minute booking, extra fee's apply. Please let me know if you'd like to proceed.

Dan Sorenson

House of Blues.

"Ha!" I yelled, turning the screen to face Noah.

His eyes darted back and forth as he read the screen, his face not changing from the smug smile he wore.

"Well, looks like the show is booked but you still have to deal with the pop up event," He reminded me.

I stuck my tongue out at him while turning the laptop back to me. "Yes, I know that."

Noah groaned while griping my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If you stick that pretty little tongue out at me one more time, angel, I'm going to bite his so hard it bleeds."

My skin ignited with a blaze so hot it surprised me Noah didn't rear back in hissing pain. There was a slickness between my legs from his promise and I almost did it again so he could act on it. But Folio walked from the back of the bus and with a curious gaze at us, he sat down on the couch in the living area.

"What's going on here?" He asked.

Noah's eyes flashed before he let my face go and went over to sit next to Folio. As their conversation faded to the background of my subconscious, I blinked a few times to center myself and noticed a new message appeared on the screen in front of me.

Y/N! It's been awhile? How're things?

I can definitely book our event space for your friend's band tomorrow. There's a lot of us that are familiar with Bad Omens so we'd be happy to host your pop up event. What time did you need?

By now, Jolly and Nick came to join the others, and I grabbed the laptop to walk over to them, showing the message.

"I'll be damned," Folio whistled low.

"I'm impressed," Jolly said with a chuckle.

Nick smacked Noah against his shoulder. "Looks like I'll be tattooing whatever design she comes up with."

"I guess so," he winked at me. "I'll admit when I'm wrong and I was. Thanks for doing that, Y/N."

I smiled while setting the laptop on the table before falling into the couch between Folio and Jolly. "I've already posted it all to the Bad Omens social media and sent the details over to Matt so he can get his end tied up."

"You should be our social media ambassador," Folio said.

Immediately I shook my head. "No, that seems like a lot of work I'm not qualified for."

Nick snorted. "You booked two huge events on last-minute notice and got it spread like wildfire online. Tickets are already being bought."

I peered over at his phone that he titled towards me and sure enough, ticket sales were already booming for both events. But I still wasn't convinced.

"Don't you guys switch off posting on the Bad Omens social medias?" I asked.

"Yeah but it'll be easier if you took it over. We forget sometimes and it gets messy who was supposed to post something," Folio said.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, really thinking about his offer. It's not like it was a hard job, it was something I did on my own social media.

"Does it come with a pay raise?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but Noah responded right away.

"Of course. It's a lot more work than being the merch girl, which you won't be anymore. We can find someone to replace you."

This was not something I expected to happen when I woke up this morning, but I wasn't complaining. The pay raise would be significant and maybe I could deactivate my only fans page sooner than expected.

"Okay. I'll do it."

For the next while, the guys told me what my new position would entail and what I was in charge of. While Byran took professional photos and videos of them, I would still take some and post to their tik tok page or Instagram stories. When Bryan finished editing whatever photos he took, he would send them over to me and I would post them. I would also be in charge of dealing with messages that came through any platform.

By the time we ironed everything out, I excuse myself to my bunk, exhaustion overtaking my body. It was well into the afternoon and knowing we would be in Cleveland soon, I desperately wanted to nap before then.

As I lay in my bunk, I ended up staring at my Only Fans page and thought about ways I could revamp it to get a few more subscribers. Even with my new job title and pay, I couldn't give it up yet. Lana's paycheck was due tomorrow and while I had enough for it, it would clear out my bank account.

I pulled tight the curtain to my bunk as best as I could and stripped out of my shirt, pants, and bra. I wouldn't be able to record a video right now so a picture was the best option. Instead of covering my breasts, I kept them on display as I held up my phone, snapping a few different angles making sure my face was covered. Once satisfied with how I looked, I got dressed again and uploaded a few of the pictures to my page.

By the time that was finished, my eyes were heavy with slumber so I curled into the corner of the bunk, letting sleep encase around me. I was so deep in sleep that I barely heard Noah's phone go off and a loud groan of pleasure echoed from his bunk.

"You've got to be kidding me, angel. Right next to me."

"I can't believe how well everything turned out," I smiled as I walked alongside Folio in the mall.

The pop up event ended a few minutes ago and as mentioned, everything went smoothly. Fans were ecstatic to meet the guys and get their autographs. Merch sold like crazy and thankfully, Matt and Davis could cover my old job until they could find a replacement. Matt thought my new job was a great idea, mentioning that I was always made for more than just selling merch.

"You did that," Folio bumped his shoulder into mine, a proud smile on his face.

Jolly and Nick were in front of our group, leading us to a restaurant so we could get something to eat before the show tonight. Another event I threw together. To say I was proud of myself was an understatement. I wanted to so badly call my mom to tell her but knew that she would only respond with three words.

"Who are you?"

I hadn't heard from either my mom or Lana today which made me worry because with how the last phone call conversation went, I could only think of the worst.

Noah made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and I looked up to him as he walked next to me. From the second he stepped off looking like that, I was so wound up and turned on that I kept squeezing my aching core between my legs to curb that itch. Noah had the top half of his hair up in a bun and wore a baggy shirt with an anime logo and name across it and a pair of black shorts.

I wanted to lick every inch of muscles on his thighs; he looked that delicious.

But something was different with him today. Noah made sure that he never strayed far from me and during the event, his eyes were almost always on me. He refused to let me out of his sight. The brown of his eyes drank in every inch of me as well and if I didn't find a corner to rub one out, I would explode.

We found a restaurant inside the mall and all slide into a corner booth at the back of the large room. With how we sat, Noah and I were seated alone on one side, kind of away from Jolly, Nick, and Folio. The three of them chatted about what they were going to get and as I was about to ask Noah what he wanted, I felt his hand grasp the inside of my thigh and I sucked in a breath.

"Angel," he breathed in my ear.

I hummed when his fingers slowly moved higher between my legs. Our actions were underneath the table so no one could see.

"I can't stop thinking about your face when you cum," he admitted. "Can you do that for me again, please?"

I shouldn't do this. It was only supposed to be a onetime thing. But I was also so fucking horny, I needed this so bad. And he asked nicely.

My eyes fluttered shut when his finger slipped between the waistband of my leggings and without thinking, I spread my legs wider for him. If he didn't understand that, I gave a firm nod while keeping up the facade of looking over the menu.

Noah did the same, his eyes scanning his menu all while his finger slipped between my panties and pussy.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep the moan quiet when his finger brushed along my folds, knowing he felt how wet I'd been all day. He turned his face slightly towards me, his eyes sparkling with arousal.

"So wet already," he mouthed.

Not trusting myself to be quiet, I nodded as his finger pushed inside of me, pumping slow at first to work me open. Then another finger joined, and I nearly dropped my head on the table. Noah's fingers were long where they could reach that spot with ease.

Noah leaned closer to me making it look like he was talking about something so normal. "You're so tight, angel. Are you going to cum already?"

"Yes," I whined.

"Have you been wet all day for me?"

Always.

I nodded which made Noah smirk. "Be a good girl and don't make a noise. I can't have the guys knowing what I'm doing to you underneath the table."

Fuck; Noah Sebastian was going to kill me.

As he talked to Folio, giving nothing away, his fingers worked inside of me fast and when his thumb pressed against my clit, I nearly came with a scream. My hips bucked up into his hand and I ended up setting the menu up to it could cover my face as my lips fell open in a silent moan. The orgasm was so close, a bright white light brushing over my vision and heat spread at the base of my spine to my scalp. I shook in Noah's grasp as my pussy walls clenched around his fingers.

"Noah," I breathed when the orgasm washed over me in a tidal wave.

I shamelessly dry humped his hand to ride over the last little of the aftershocks and almost whined when Noah turned to look at me. He pulled out his fingers, the sudden loss of warmth making me go slack against the booth, and brought them to his mouth. I watched in my post orgasmic haze as he licked them clean, his eyes blown wide with blackness of his own desires.

"What do you guys think of this place? We tried it back in Iowa, figured it was a good choice," Nick said.

The three of them were still oblivious to what happened.

"Best meal I've ever fucking had," Noah hummed, my arousal glistening his lips.

[schraubd]

Will Matt Gaetz Finally Cause the Senate GOP To Stand Up To Trump? My Money's On No!

I really thought I'd laid the bar on the floor, but somehow Donald Trump has already burrowed under it by announcing (former*) Florida Congressman Matt Gaetz as his pick for attorney general. I had the pleasure of sharing this news with several of my law school colleagues, where it literally provoked a laugh-out-loud howl of incredulity. It wasn't just my people though. Senate Republicans also seem rather blindsided by the pick: The selection of Mr. Gaetz blindsided many of Mr. Trump’s allies on Capitol Hill. The announcement was met with immediate and unvarnished skepticism by Republicans in the Senate who will vote on his nomination. Senator Susan Collins of Maine said she was “shocked” by the pick — and predicted a difficult confirmation process. [....] Senator John Cornyn, Republican of Texas, when asked about Mr. Gaetz’s selection, said, “I don’t know the man other than his public persona.” Mr. Cornyn said he could not comment on the chances that Mr. Gaetz, or Tulsi Gabbard, Mr. Trump’s pick for director of national intelligence, would be confirmed: “I don’t know — we’ll find out.” “He’s got his work cut out for him,” Senator Joni Ernst, Republican of Iowa, said as other senators dodged questions from reporters. Representative Max Miller, Republican of Ohio, told reporters that many members of the G.O.P. conference were shocked at the choice of Mr. Gaetz for attorney general, but mostly thrilled at the prospect that he might no longer be a member of the chamber. The House, Mr. Miller added, would be a more functional place without Mr. Gaetz. He predicted a bruising confirmation fight, adding that if the process revealed evidence to corroborate the allegations of sex trafficking against Mr. Gaetz, he would not be surprised if the House moved to expel him, as it did with Representative George Santos. Mr. Santos lost his seat after the Ethics Committee documented violations of the chamber’s rules and evidence of extensive campaign fraud.   But things aren't all bad. You'll never guessed who raced ahead of the pack to greet Trump's failson pick with open arms: One of the few lawmakers to offer a positive assessment was a staunch Trump ally, Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, who called Mr. Gaetz “smart” and “clever” but predicted tough confirmation hearings. So, how long will it take for the Senate GOP caucus to fall in line? I'm guessing it'll happen before the first confirmation hearing. (That is, if we have confirmation hearings). Oh, and speaking of organizations that have put their dignity in a lockbox, we did finally learn what bridge is too far for the ADL, which blistered the Gaetz selection because of his "long history of trafficking in antisemitism," including "defending the Great Replacement Theory." How he's distinguished from the ADL's glowingly-praised Elise Stefanik, who also promoted Great Replacement Theory, was left unsaid. * Gaetz hastily resigned his seat following the announcement, also getting ahead of a planned House Ethics Committee report that was set to issue findings on Gaetz's myriad, er, "controversies" -- including allegations of sex trafficking minors. Score one for QAnon! via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/WqtsjKg

[ladylilithprime]

Day 13: Monster Mash

(Takes place in the same universe as Day 9.)

IT SOUNDED LIKE the start of a bad joke. "An angel, a werewolf and a hunter walked into a bar...." Dean wasn't quite sure what the punchline was supposed to be, but the set-up was right there, and if Sammy wasn't so damn tense as to be practically vibrating he might've said it out loud just to get his brother to relax a little. Dean wasn't putting any money on the angel being the type to get jokes; the guy looked more like a holy tax accountant than a heavenly warrior now that he wasn't practically blenderizing his way through a crowd of demons with that funky silver blade of his.

"I think this conversation is going to require some whiskey," Dean said instead. "Sammy?"

"Tequila bottle," his brother muttered, not looking up at all. Dean controlled a wince; time was Sam had been enough of a lightweight that a double shot of tequila would put him on the floor. These days that's what it took to get him even mildly buzzed, and the fact that he wanted the whole bottle said a lot about where the kid's head was at right now.

"Aaaand how 'bout you?" he asked the angel, who was looking around the interior of the bar with a detached sort of curiosity. When he realized that Dean was speaking to him, he tilted his head in confusion.

"I do not require food or a beverage," he said, which made Dean want to roll his eyes. After a moment's consideration, he did.

"You may not," he said as patiently as he could manage, "but Sammy says your meatsuit is still alive in there, and living humans do require food and drink, even just for comfort purposes when they're stressed out. So what does he want?"

"Fascinating," Castiel murmured, studying Dean with just enough intensity to make him want to squirm. After a moment, the angel continued, "Jimmy requests a dark stout if they have it and a 'Bloody Mary' if not. I assume he does not mean the spectral huntress."

"It's a drink made with vodka and spicy tomato juice," Sam spoke up, surprising Dean a bit. He'd thought Sam was going to be practically mute until at least the third shot. "No relation to the ghost class beyond the name."

"I see," Castiel hummed, switching that penetrating stare to Sam, who still wasn't looking at him at all. "Jimmy also wishes me to pass along his gratitude for your consideration of his presence."

"He's here and aware, so he's part of the equation," Dean said when it became obvious that Sam wasn't going to say anything. "Anyway, can y'all grab us a table while I grab the drinks?"

The question was more for Castiel's benefit. Sam was already moving towards one of the empty tables with a purpose, bypassing two others on his way. Dean caught the subtle flare of his brother's nostrils as he put his nose to work, his wolf side much closer to the surface with the full moon so recently passed, and decided that he probably didn't want to know what Sam was smelling on those tables to make him walk by.

Castiel was also watching Sam, and his expression was one Dean had trouble reading. "Will your brother feel safe with me at the table while you are not?"

"That's something to ask him, not me," Dean shook his head and turned away to head for the bar. It wasn't like he had an answer, either. Normally he'd say there wasn't anything his Sammy had to fear from anyone or anything, not with the wards on his pendant and the extra tattoos he and Dean had both gotten after meeting Loki in Ohio. Angels, Castiel in particular, were proving to be a whole other ballgame, and Dean just hoped they weren't gonna be a problem like the demons.

The bar did have a decent dark stout available, but Dean went ahead and ordered the Bloody Mary along with it as well as his whiskey and the tequila bottle. He ordered a couple cans of coke as well in case Sam managed to relax enough that the flavor got to him enough to want a mixer, and a double order of bacon cheese fries for good measure, and then took the little flag the bartender gave him and joined his brother and the angel at the table. Sam shot him a bitchface as he sat down, one of the newer ones that piggybacked off of "I know what you're up to" with an added "I can still hear your heartbeat from across the room, I know what you said", but he didn't verbally call Dean on it.

"I texted Henrickson," he said instead, making Dean's eyebrows go up. "Gave him the rundown on the situation and Jimmy Novak. He texted back to let me know that he'll check in on Jimmy's wife and daughter and feed them an easy to swallow story about an ongoing investigation that Jimmy got caught up in to explain his absence without worrying them further."

Well, damn. No wonder Sam had been so tight-lipped and standoffish with the guy. Stanford had given Sam the distance and therapist appointments he had needed to come to terms with the way he and Dean had been raised and make peace within himself over that and his wolfy nature, but it sure hadn't made him any more tolerant of deadbeat dads running out on the family that needed them, even with the excuse of helping save the world. It was one of the things Sam had quietly confessed to Dean as they had stood by the pyre watching John Winchester's body burn, and Dean couldn't even fault him for it, not with John's final words about saving Sam or killing him ringing in both their ears despite the words only being meant for Dean to hear.

"Good thinking, Sammy," Dean said out loud, nudging his brother's foot under the table. "Less stress on everybody once Cas here's done slumming it with us and can let the man go home again."

To his credit, Castiel appeared to realize that both Winchesters were now unhappy with him, though he didn't quite seem to grasp why. "Earth and humanity are my Father's finest creations. It is not 'slumming it' to be here rather than in Heaven."

"Great way to show your respect for those creations, dragging a man away from his family and overturning his life," Dean drawled when Sam just pressed his lips together. "What else do we know that does that, huh?"

Now Castiel was frowning at him. "Angels are limited in the vessels we can inhabit, Dean," he said severely. "We require consent from those we take to even do so, and we cannot inhabit the truly unwilling."

"So why not go for a coma patient or a fresh corpse?" Dean asked, scowling right back. "Even the demons can manage that!"

"Or maybe a priest or nun?" Sam asked quietly. "If you require a body with a soul still in residence for a vessel, why not someone who has already dedicated their bodies and lives to your Father?"

"We are also limited by the strength of certain bloodlines best suited to hosting an angel," Castiel answered, at least having the grace (heh) to look discomfited by the questions. "And then, there is the matter of how many members of the clergy are... ill-suited to the calling of serving Heaven. For one reason or another."

Dean exchanged a speaking look with Sam. "I'd say that's surprising, but..."

"We already knew Spotlight's exposé was just the tip of the iceberg," Sam finished, giving Dean the hand signal for "someone approaching". "Hazards of a haphazardly organized and aggressively egotistical religious doctrine."

Castiel was giving Sam that intent look again, the one that made Dean feel like he was trying to see inside his target's head. Dean hated having that look directed at him, and he liked it even less seeing that scrutiny aimed at Sammy.

"You were once a man of great faith in my Father," Castiel said softly, making both Sam and Dean tense. "Even after leaving your family, you continued to pray for their safety. You even prayed for the soul of the priest whose ghost you were required to deal with. And then you stopped, and no one could determine why."

"That one's my fault," said a familiar voice as a tray of drinks was set down on the edge of the table. "I told him no one up there was listening since, last I knew, you lot tend to ignore any prayers coming from the nonhuman crowd and barely gave any attention to human prayers as it was. This a private party, or is there room for one more?"

"Always room for you, milord," Dean drawled, nudging the free chair at their table out with his foot and giving the god a cheeky grin. "If I'd known you were coming, I'd'a ordered something for you, too."

"I'm covered, thanks," Loki said with an answering smirk as he spun the chair around to sit in it backwards and picked up the fizzy pink drink with what looked like six or seven maraschino cherries floating in it. Then he frowned and looked across the table at Sam. "You okay there, kiddo?"

"No injuries I couldn't heal myself," Sam sighed, which was about what Dean had expected him to say and a lot less worryingly misleading than his usual "I'm fine" would have been. "The demons still haven't figured out I'm not the man they expect me to be, and I'm starting to think the angels are similarly uninformed."

"You are way too much of a good boy for what the demons want you for," Loki agreed with an eyebrow waggle. He looked over at Castiel, eyebrows raised. "So... Castiel, was it? Is my favorite hunter right that the folks upstairs don't know about Sam's species reassignment?"

"You... how..." Castiel stammered, staring at Loki with very wide eyes. Damn, the angel hadn't even looked that freaked out when facing down the demons. Dean shot a look at Sam, but his brother was watching the two divine beings with a narrow, thoughtful look that was almost more alarming than the angel being freaked out.

"Thought I was your favorite," Dean joked to try and cover the awkward, giving himself a mental shake and setting to work distributing the drinks Loki had brought over.

"You're my favorite human," Loki conceded magnanimously, even as he kept his eyes on the angel. "Sam's my favorite hunter, though. And Castiel... used to be one of my favorite little brothers before I did a runner and got myself adopted by the Asgardians."

"Gabriel," Castiel whispered, and metaphorically blew Dean's mind.

"Gabriel," he repeated blankly, staring. "The Archangel."

"Guilty," the pagan god who was apparently actually an Archangel in hiding said, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple.

Dean shot a quick look at Sam, only to be brought up short by the complete lack of surprise on his brother's face. "Wait, you knew?"

"Guessed," Sam admitted with a shrug. "I figured he had to have some kind of firsthand insider information to talk about Heaven and angels to us with such assurance back in Ohio, but it wasn't that important at the time so I didn't put it together fully until tonight. He has the same petrichor scent around him that Castiel has, even under the candyfloss and hickory smoke scents, and 'runaway angel' makes as good an explanation as any."

"Figured me out just from that super sniffer, eh?" Lo-- Ga-- their patron said, eyebrows going up.

"The Archangel bit was a surprise," Sam said with a side to side waggle of his hand. "Which Archangel, though? Nah. 'Just desserts' isn't that far off from 'justice and mercy', which is what the lore says is your purview in conjunction with the whole Messenger of Heaven gig."

"Killing rapists and murderers and serving assholes a taste of their own bullshit fits with being the Messenger of Heaven?" Dean couldn't help but ask skeptically. He had no reason to doubt Sam - the kid was the better lore expert between them - but he was still trying to wrap his brain around the reality of angels versus the fluffy cloud-sitters playing harps and shit Pastor Jim had talked about. The look Sam shot him said he could guess what Dean was thinking, but he just shrugged and poured himself a glass of tequila.

"Sometimes Heaven's message isn't nice," he said, and threw back the whole glass in two long gulps as easily as if drinking water.

Dean shot a glance at... fuck it, he was calling the god Loki until directed otherwise. Loki was watching Sam with an admiring little smile that still managed to look sad, and Dean remembered how careful and gentle the god had been when laying down the devastating truth about a werewolf's chances of ever going to Heaven after dying. It was one of those things that had Dean seriously considering asking Sam to turn him, too, so they wouldn't be separated, and it was still in the back of his mind as an option even with them having pledged themselves to Loki.

Movement had him shifting his attention to Castiel, who had picked up the bottle of stout and was practically chugging it with a similar lack of reaction as Sam. Dean had to wonder if the angel was even tasting it, or if Jimmy was the one tasting it, or if it even mattered with the way they were sharing headspace. When the bottle was set down again and the angel reached for the Bloody Mary, Dean almost worried he was going to throw it back the same way. Instead, there was a very distinct shift in posture and expression and then Jimmy was the one lifting the glass and taking a long drink through the straw.

"Castiel's still processing," the man said when he had swallowed the drink. "I get the feeling he's even less used to questioning the authority and will of Heaven than I am, so this is kinda throwing him for a loop."

"Kinda the opposite, actually," Loki sighed. "Cassie was one of my favorite brothers because he was always questioning things. Him having a hard time now probably means he was sent for 'reeducation' a few too many times by Herr Michael in the time since I left. He hates it when any of the rank and file question orders."

"He's hoping you'll be willing to take him into your direct service," Jimmy said, after a moment of very odd facial expressions. "I'm just gonna assume you know what that means, and what he means by vessel alternatives since he and I agree that I should absolutely get back to my family."

"Oh, yeah, no problem," Loki said, waving a hand negligently.

The air thickened and twisted and then suddenly there was a second Jimmy... no, wait, that wide-eyed, shellshocked expression on the second Jimmy practically screamed "overwhelmed angel" to Dean's inexperienced eye. Sam apparently thought so, too, because he poured a second glass of his tequila and slid it across the table to nudge Castiel's hand. The angel fumbled a little with picking up the glass, but then lifted it to his lips and gulped down the contents. He coughed, blinking, then shook himself.

"That is very different from drinking from within a vessel," he rasped.

"So I guess I'll be telling Amelia that the FBI case was about me being mistaken for my previously unknown twin brother," Jimmy said, eyeing Castiel with something between concern and dismay. "That is... kinda freaky, actually."

"Doesn't have to be," Loki said with a shrug. "I made the body look like you for simplicity's sake, but once Cassie gets settled into it and familiarized with the controls, he can change it up to look however he wants."

"This does present the problem of how I am to deliver my report on my findings," Castiel spoke up, his body giving an involuntary shudder. "I cannot return to Heaven like this without being immediately sent to Naomi. Nor do I wish to return, but I fear who they might send to investigate when I don't."

"Well, there's an easy enough option there," Loki drawled, looking at... Dean.

"Come again?" Dean asked, frowning in confusion. What did he have to do with anything?

"Directed human prayer gets through to anyone," Loki explained. "Normally I wouldn't suggest you pray to any of those douchebags, like, ever, because they're no fun and don't appreciate your respectful irreverence like I do, but since you and James here are the only humans at this table...."

"Great," Dean sighed. "Okay, fine. Who'm I passing the message to?"

"Might as well try Michael directly," Loki said thoughtfully. "Just tell him about Sam's species change, that Cassie's handing in his resignation and off limits to Heaven, and that I say he can take his early Apocalypse plans and shove 'em up his noncorporeal ass."

"Early what now?!"

[multi-muse-transect]

Cyberpunk Jinx AU Headcanons

Basically how I think Jinx's story would go if she ran into Ciri from the Witcher who can travel dimensions and chose to hide in the Cyberpunk universe to start a new life.

Jinx got her new lease on life when she met Ciri who showed her a place to get away and it was the Cyberpunk universe. She arrived in Ohio first and fell in with the Bakker Clan under the name V. There she bonded with the Nomads and even got some chrome until she saw her new family finally disappear after they integrated into Snake Nation thus causing Jinx to head to Night City for a job.

She actually thrives well in Night City with Jackie as she was a natural at fighting. Jackie pointed it out and she says she has chrome in her system when it's really shimmer.

Jackie, Viktor, and Misty are basically Jinx's new family with Viktor remind her of Vander.

After the heist, Johnny looked deep into her mind and thought he was on drugs again when he saw her past then kept quiet about it. It wasn't until he brought it up to her at the motel. My bet is that he would say "You were like me but got cold feet! So when the deed was done, you upped and left everyone!" And that causes Jinx to fall silent with Johnny saying "What? Are you gonna forget me like how you did with Vi, Clogger, and Milo?"

Johnny and Jinx would talk about their situations and how they are alike in many ways leading to alternate conversations.

The relic ends up making Jinx even more unstable cause she's basically dying or her mind is getting rewritten.

She would definitely have sick guitar skills when she's playing with Kerry Eurodyne.

Judy and her would do a lot of flirting.

Jinx has PTSD flashbacks when she meets Panam cause her and Vi are alike in so many ways. She fears getting attached to her but ends up getting attached anyway and she gets a new sister.

Jinx just gets too much bad Caitlyn flashbacks when she meets River yet opens up to him in the end. Even solving the whole Peter Pan case with him.

In Phantom Liberty, Solomon Reed does a scan on Jinx only to find out there's no registration or information on her at all which makes him infinitely suspicious cause the NUSA keeps tabs everyone while there's nothing on Jinx. Even Myers is puzzled about this when he tells it to her alongside Songbird who is just as confused.

If Jinx chose the Devil ending, her last memories and words are her sister's name as soulkiller zaps her and turns her consciousness into an engram. She's later brought back in a new body that has shimmer in it then leaves the Cyberpunk universe when she meets Ciri again and returns to her universe where she works at the bar and meets Vi again who of course doesn't recognize her but the two become friends alongside Caitlyn and Ekko. Jinx sees the mural and says goodbye to her former self before heading off.

In the Tower ending, Jinx ends up with no more chrome but still has shimmer inside her veins which grabs the attention of Myers and Reed. She returns to Night City where things have changed but beats the hell out of Terry to showcase her strength and doesn't combat implants.

The Star ending is Jinx going with the Aldecaldos with a new family to start another life. Jinx makes her peace with her past and finally settles down.

Temperance ending is Johnny who is now Jinx meeting Ciri again as she tells her to find Vi and take her to Night City to the Columbariam where Johnny has set up a niche for her. The niche reads "Powder-the woman who saved and changed many lives. Even mine. Thank you." Vi and Ciri arrive there with Vi finding said niche before sadly and angrily demanding to be left alone with it while Johnny leaves Night City.

Suicide ending is the same as before but Misty implies that she knows where she's from.

In the Sun ending, Mr Blue Eyes hints he knows that Jinx isn't from their universe at all and drops hints to her. Even quoting Silco as well. Jinx takes up the Crystal Palace job and flies off.

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.2)

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sam and Dean are on the road looking into a lead that Castiel had given them. Sam is hoping that this will get them a step closer to getting Dean some help. Meanwhile, Dean is reluctant because the lead doesn't sound promising in aiding Cass in the hunt for Metatron. He thinks this will be a waste of time, but little does he know what he and his brother will find waiting for them in Cincinnati. Meanwhile, you are on a mission to find out why exactly Crowley has sent a demon to come and find you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SPN spoilers, the usual supernatural violence, torture and gore that may not be suitable for all audiences.

Sam was riding in the Impala beside Dean while he was driving. Castiel asked them to go to Cincinnati, Ohio to look into a lead. There was a report that a demon went to some sort of tattoo parlor and hadn't been seen again.

No one was sure if it was related to Metatron, or if an angel under him had something to do with it. Dean was a little skeptical at first but in the end he agreed to go with Sam, hoping this wouldn't be some sort of wild goose chase. It's like they've left every stone unturned when it came to locating the former Scribe of God but they would come in empty handed every time and it was really getting under Dean's skin.

"This had better be worth it, other wise we're just wasting time when we could be looking into an actual lead, not to mention it's a waste of Baby's gas." Dean said with a bit of a grumble. Sam rolled his eyes at the last part of the remark.

"With the amount of credit card frauds we've undergone, I think the car's gas is the least of our worries." Sam said with an arched brow and Dean shrugged a bit, gaze still transfixed on the road.

The constant burning in Dean's arm was relentless with the mark. He knew that he had the urge to kill. Something needed to be done, he needed to kill something on this hunt to get some sort of relief, even if it was temporary.

Sam had told Dean not to bring the first blade along. At first, Dean complied but the second that Sam wasn't looking, he tucked it into his jacket for safe keeping. After all, what if Metatron just showed up spontaneously? What if they ran into more than just a handful of demons on this 'new lead' Cass sent them on? Bringing the first blade was a necessary precaution even if Sam didn't see it that way.

"Dean? You alright, man?" Sam asked. Dean perked up when he was broken from his thoughts. But the older brother nodded a little.

"Yeah. Just hoping that this lead won't be a waste. If we don't take care of this mess soon, who knows what that bastard will do. Metatron has to die and we can't afford any more screw ups. Not when we've lost enough people over it." Dean said.

"Then there's the fact that Cass is obviously having trouble finding what he needs. I should be over there helping him out. He needs some answers and those stupid angels don't know how to get it out of the other angels they capture. they don't know a damned thing about interrogation and who knows when things will get worse on his end." He continued on.

Sam frowned, understanding where Dean was coming from. He couldn't blame Dean for feeling bad about Kevin. Nobody wanted something like that to happen. He was just a kid. And Kevin didn't deserve Gadreel killing him like that.

"Dean, if they need help with some interrogation tactics then I'm sure that Cass will give us a call. Especially considering your... experience. And I'm just as angry as you are about what happened to Kevin. I get what you're going through. But unless we have any other leads to follow, this is the best one that we've got for the time being." Sam said.

Dean took in Sam's words and his jaw tensed, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as his brows furrowed together. The mere mention of what happened to that kid was enough to make his blood boil.

"How could you possibly understand what I'm going through, huh? There's been enough shit in our lives, this mark is the only thing that has brought any hope in this whole damned disaster, and you do nothing but nag about the so called effects you think it gives me. It's always one argument after another over the one thing that can bring all of this shit to an end." Dean practically snapped.

Sam was a little shocked that he'd burst like that, yet he wasn't really surprised at what had been eating at his brother. He knew Dean wasn't one to open up about how he felt, but he didn't to a good job at hiding the fact that he was bothered either.

"Okay, wrong choice of words. But putting an end to this mess is a part of why we're out here right? As long as it's a step forward, then it's at least a step closer to the goal. It's a Hell of a lot better than taking five steps back, right?" Sam said with that typically optimistic tone that he seemed to have most of the time. The tone that Dean didn't always understand when things seemed to be at its darkest.

The real reason for coming to Ohio right now was because Cass had a hunch that it wasn't one of Metatron's angels that may have killed that demon. Maybe this person would be able to assist in killing Metatron. But what Sam was hoping for the most was that this would be the break they needed. That this lead would be the foretold, missing daughter of Cain. Dean needed a win, and Sam was hoping that this would be some kind of win for the both of them. Someone to help ease the suffering, help Dean gain some kind of control.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Sammy. But if this thing turns out to be a disaster then you won't be hearing the end of it."

"Yeah, I've already gathered that." Sam said with a slight smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes a little before he leaned forward and pushed a button on the Impala's radio to play one of his cassette tapes. The next thing they knew, they were listening to Would by Alice in Chains.

"Well this is kind of different from your classic rock you normally play isn't it?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.

"Nothing wrong with a little variety once in a while."

But once there was silence in the car again, outside of the music that was being played, Dean focused on the road. It would be another day before they'd get to Ohio. Then they could get this little 'lead' over and done with. Then he'd be able to kill some sort of monster or he could check on Castiel and see if he needed help with gathering information from Metatron's angels.

Either way, the mark was thirsting for blood, and Dean was trying his best to hold it together to keep Sam off his back.

You were growing antsy. The burning mark on your arm was more intense than it had ever been before. And somehow, you were sensing that there was another barer of the mark. They hadn't killed in a while and you could almost feel the thirst that person was going through as well.

But you were having enough of it. You had to know who this person was and you were willing to do anything to get to the bottom of it. Because surely this person, this mortal, had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Needless to say, your little shop was closed for the day and your appointments were cancelled of course. And now, you were in your own cellar beneath your store.

There you had a summoning circle, an iron chair, and there was a demon trapped inside since the devil's trap was engraved into the iron shackles attached to the arms of the chair.

"What do you want with me? We know you killed one of the other demons just for stepping here. If you don't want to be found then why did you summon me?" The demon asked.

"Oh, Sweetie, who said that you were the one in charge of asking questions?" You asked with a chuckle as you moved your rolling table. On top of that table was your, what you liked to call, interrogation utensils.

You stooped down to the demon you had in a bind and you held your blade up to its chin. Now, this was no ordinary blade. Granted it wasn't as legendary as the First Blade, nor was it the demon blade that Ruby used to carry, but it was something similar that killed demons, angels, and monsters alike.

"Now, don't make this easy on me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed a good, slow kill." You smirked and the demon's eyes widened. The rumors were right. You were just as menacing as your father before you.

"But what if I don't know anything?" The demon asked as it regained its composure and attempted to be as unphased by you. You cocked your head to the side and shrugged a little before placing the side of the demon's cheek and watched the steam appear from the vessel's flesh since the blade was previously dipped in Holy Water. The demon hissed and gritted his teeth as if he tried not to scream.

"Well then, I get to have my own kind of fun. It's not like I can let you go now that you know where I am." You said.

"Now. Why is your pathetic king searching for me, hmm?" You asked and the demon's eyes shown black as he glared at you.

"If I'm going to die anyway, I'll never tell you." But then you slashed his cheek, causing him to wince as the wound started to bubble up due to the Holy Water.

"Oh, but I think you will. Now I'll ask you a second time: Why is Crowley looking for me."

"I will not betray the King of Hell."

Your brows narrowed. You had told him not to make it easy, but you needed to know why you were being sought after. You had to know what Crowley already knew incase you needed to go into hiding again.

So, you took your knife and cut off one of the demon's fingers before you dipped the wound in salt. Hearing the cries of the demon was a little annoying but you had to admit, there was finally a soothing feeling in your arm from the mark you were born with. It was finally some sort of release.

"Y-Your mark! He wants to know more about your mark to help a Winchester." The demon said.

You perked up when he finally gave some kind of information. You supposed losing a finger would have that effect on almost anyone.

"So your King that's too good to get his hands dirty is helping a human? Who is this Winchester?" You asked as the demon's head hung low.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance and you lifted the blade to his chin to make him have eye contact with you.

"If you have that much of a problem looking at me, I'll gouge those eyes right out of your skull. Now talk." You said as your eyes started to glow red.

"His name is Dean. Crowley was having trouble with the Knight of Hell, Abaddon. He went to Dean for help and they found your father. Your father gave Cain the Mark and Crowley wants to know more about it to hold the information over the Winchester's head to get what he wants, I assume." The demon spilled.

You lifted a brow as your eyes changed back to their normal color and you stood upright.

So, Crowley wanted some leverage, huh? You supposed that he couldn't exactly find the information he needed from some kind of book outside of the fabled Book of the Damned. No one seemed to know where that book was and that would have at least some kind of information Crowley could be after.

"That's all I know. let me go. I won't tell anyone where you are. Just spare me." The demon pleaded and you looked down at him again.

"Oh, Sweet Cheeks. I can't go around trusting demons not to give away my location. I'm sorry but you're just going to have to suffer." You said.

And with that, you placed your hand on the demon's head and your eyes glowed red once more. Suddenly, the demon started to let out a bloodcurdling scream and his eye sockets were glowing red. Blood started dripping from his eyes and the drops started rolling down his face like tears. Red droplets came out of his pores like sweat before turning into a black ooze.

Yet you looked at the demonic scum without a hint of expression in your eyes. But finally, finally there was a relief from the constant pain in your arm.

Once the demon was finally dead, you looked at the body. That has been the second demon you killed. But at least you got the information you wanted.

"Dean Winchester.." You muttered the name before looking down at the mark on your arm.

It hadn't even been two minutes but the pain was back like you needed to kill yet again. You placed your knife on the table and let your thumb graze over your mark.

"Dean, you don't realize what you've done."

Thank you guys so much for reading! I know I got this out a little later than I would have liked to've published but I had a friend from Germany come and visit me. I am hoping to get Part 3 released soon! Thank you for your continued support! If you would like to be tagged let me know! Wishing all of you the best!!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @alternativeprincess @doctorlexilouwhosblog

[tarotoftheendless]

Sweetbitter Thoughts about Jake and Tess

I have watched the show Sweetbitter around 5 to 6 times... 3 times in one week... I was very depressed and I am in my Tom Sturridge era right now... and Jake... oh boy, Jake... he's hot as fuck. Bad boys always are.

But sadly, he fits into the "I can fix him" category of character... Now, I have my thoughts and theories on Jake, like he was groomed by Simone after being taken in by Simone's family when his mother killed herself... and that explains his strange loyalty and relationship to her, but also his unhealthy coping mechanisms with drugs, alcohol and sex. He thinks himself too damaged for love, Simone probably taught him that, and so he becomes "dangerous" because it protects himself from further harm, or so he thinks. Simone probably made him believe he is too dangerous for a real relationship, even though it is Simone that is the dangerous one.

And then in walks Tess, 8 years younger than Jake as she is 22 and he is 30. I am not one to judge when two adults meet each other when they are adults and they do happen to click naturally, but something is off about the way Jake is teasing Tess and then Tess is eating it up. Tess has her own traumas too. I have only read half the book, so I don't know if there is more to it than what the show gives us, but something made her leave her home in Ohio, her father. It sounds like there could have been enmeshment there too, much like Jake and Simone, but maybe more inappropriate as it was a father/daughter relationship? I don't know, but Tess is running and not exactly dealing with her mental and emotional issues either.

And then Tess kinda immediately wants to fuck Jake. It isn't that deep at first. She just wants to fuck him. And she gets charmed by Simone, believing the lies she tells her. And though Tess wants to get to know Jake, it is still with the main goal of fucking him. It's selfish.

The night with Sasha changed things, only slightly. Tess believes she got a glimpse of the "real" Jake and then she starts to think herself entitled to him and his history. She thinks because she got that glimpse that she now knows him, or at least thinks she has the right to know him.

When Jake finally does fuck her, she truly believes that her claim on him trumps Simone's, it doesn't. Tess never came into things with firm boundaries, she never came into whatever she has with Jake with a true desire to know him, really know him and what he actually wants and what he is actually like. And then when Tess feels entitled to Jake is when she presumes to care and know what is going on. And that is not what Jake needs.

And because of that Tess and him would have never worked... not to mention that Jake would have sided with Simone in a heartbeat. Jake has not faced what really happened to him and how toxic and abusive his relationship with Simone really is, so yeah, Jake would have dropped Tess as quickly as he gave into her because she dared to feel entitled to him and to finally act like she cared.

He would feel betrayed though, still. It would break him more than the other women (and maybe men too... the show never said he wasn't bi, just that he was a top... which I have thoughts on that too...) because he maybe would have believed for half a second that maybe Tess did care, but Simone has her hooks in him and he is not ready to deal with his shit and let go of his coping mechanisms yet, so, he would drop Tess.

Off topic but not, yes Jake is said to be a top, but I am not sure Tom Sturridge exactly gave that impression with how he showed how Jake fucks, or makes-out with women... forceful, yes, impulsive, yes, flirts first, yes, but top? I am not sure about that. When we first see him making-out with Viv he seems lost in the sauce but not in a way that makes it seem like he's controlling the situation. He seems to worship those he is with, and I guess you can be a top and do that, but Jake always gave the impression of being touch-starved (yes, I know he gets sex a lot, just go with me on this...). Like he is searching for some sort of connection each time he is with someone, but isn't finding it completely.

And I also don't think he would say no to someone else taking control, if it meant getting the kind of connection he has been searching for, then yeah, I do think Jake would welcome being topped as a part of his worship. I also think Simone has probably topped him plenty with the hold she has over him...so... But yeah, if Tom Sturridge wanted us to believe Jake was a top, maybe acting like a touch-starved blissed out sexual-touch-is-my-drug worshipper is not the way to do it. He didn't choke anyone... so... yeah...

Anyway... I don't think Tess and Jake would have worked because she didn't come into the situation with her own issues worked through, firm boundaries set and an actual friendship first with Jake that then could have proven to him that she actually cared about his past, history and who he really is.

Jake needs someone who understands him, maybe has been through similar things, but also has worked through it a bit more than Jake has so they can actually help Jake, genuinely. And it needs to be friendship first. Attraction can be there, but boundaries of creating a solid friendship first based on trust and actual care for each other's wellbeing should come first before sex. I think Jake needs a wake-up call and to get sober, and he needs to face what happened to him... and maybe someone who has dealt with similar can help him by understanding and being his friend first. A friendship without holding something over his head is exactly the kind of foundation Jake needs for an actual lasting relationship.

And Tess? She needs to grow up and deal with her own shit and not try to fuck people with that being her first goal and then presume to claim to care about those people. She needs therapy... and to also get sober.

Jake also needs therapy... lots of it. And he needs to walk away from Simone. Simone has always threatened to walk out on him finally, well, I think that after Jake comes to terms with what has happened to him at her hand that he needs to walk away from her instead. He needs to stand on his own two feet.

I, unfortunately, don't think that he'd come to that conclusion on his own. He needs a wake-up call, a fuck up so bad it makes him realize how bad things have gotten. And I do think he needs someone to help him take the steps to get better, but I do think his journey should be one where he finally lives for himself and stands on his own two feet. And they may or may not include a lasting romantic relationship. Part of me wants him to learn what real love actually looks like, but the other part of me thinks he needs to be on his own and learn to love himself first. Maybe both can happen at the same time... who knows... where's the fanfic guys? Do I need to write it? Fuck...

Let me know what ya'll think. These are just my thoughts... my continued thoughts about Jake from Sweetbitter. Look through my other posts so you can see some other thoughts I have had about Jake.

[glittter-vamp]

Ohio Is For Lovers | J.B

CHAPTER 2

Joe Burrow x Reader Series.

Warnings: 18+ only. MDNI. Angst. Explicit Language, Alcohol.

Word Count: 2,219

Read Chapter One Here

A few weeks later:

"Please please pleeaase Y/N! It'll be fun. We'll have unlimited food and drinks!" Mariana begs you for the 50th time. "Mariana, you know how I feel about this after what happened. Some fans will probably get stupid and I don't feel like listening to people call me names, look at me weird or throw some shit at me. I see how football fans can get and I'm good on that." You shake your head as you wash the dirty dish and lay it on the rack to dry. "No! You can't think like that! Don't let these assholes get to you! Ja'Marr is expecting both of us to be there and support the team. C'mon Y/N! Please...we'll have fun!" Mariana pleads again in front of you giving you puppy dog eyes.

Mariana came over before a game today to ask again about going to a Bengals game tonight. You had already told her no multiple times but she kept on insisting because Peyton was out of town for work and Sasha was with her family celebrating her moms birthday, so that left you. So she says, as if she hasn't gone to games with other people or even alone.

"Fine, but this is the only game I'm attending, you can tell Ja'Marr that too." You sigh going to your room to change. "Yes!! Thank you! Thank you!" She squeals as she follows you to your closet. You pick out an oversized black hoodie and black leggings. "You don't have anything with the Bengals on it?" Mariana. "Why would I? I don't even like football." You say starting to change clothes not caring that she was there, this wouldn't be the first time you'd change in front of your friends. "We'll get you something at the game." She nods. "I'll be fine in this." You shake your head knowing you're not going to buy merch of a team a person you really dislike plays on. You put on your white and black Nikes after putting on some socks and throw on an orange beanie. "This good enough?" You ask. "Better than nothing!" Mariana nods. You already had make up on from earlier today so you just retouched it a bit. You grabbed your phone, wallet and keys and made your way out of the apartment with Mariana. "I'm assuming I'm driving?" She asks as you two head down in the elevator. "Duh..." You chuckle. After getting into her car you two drive to the stadium. It was already a mess going into the parking lot with all these screaming drunk fans that tailgated. You were completely dreading being here for who knows how fucking long, you'd pray that crazy mid-west weather would kick in and they cancelled the stupid game but it was a perfectly sunny evening with no clouds in sight. Just you're fucking luck, you thought to yourself.

You two park in valet and security notices Mariana and they kindly lead you two to your seats. People of course were starting to recognize you two more, you would hear whispers from people who looked at you two. "Already hating this." You mutter to Mariana. "It'll be fine! Just keep your head up and keep walking" She reassures you. You two get escorted to your seats after stopping to get some beer and snacks. "See, not so bad." Mariana says. "Mhm." You hum. This was only the start of the night, you can't even imagine what could go wrong. The game finally begins and you smile watching your best friend cheer her boyfriend on. She seemed really happy and you really loved that for her since her last relationship wasn't all that great. She deserved to be happy with her partner.

During the game you got a couple looks and glares from people, mostly young teen girls who were all wearing Joe's stupid jersey. You didn't expect any less but as the game was nearing the end, your phone gets bombarded with notifications from your other friends and siblings. You open the stuff they sent you and they were all links about how you were spotted at the game with Mariana and a spreading rumor around that you were actually here to see and support Joe play, which could only mean to these delusional lying people that you and Joe were most likely an item. You roll your eyes at your phone and let out a big sigh of frustration.

You show Mariana and her Jaw drops. "And you thought I was being dramatic with coming here." You shake your head. "I didn't think that would happen! I'm so sorry Y/N...I'm sure we can clear this up somehow! I'll post that picture of us we took earlier on instagram and caption it in a way that will let everyone know we're both here for Ja'Marr!" She says and you just sit there upset at what was happening all over again. You knew you shouldn't have risked coming here.

When the game finally ends security comes to you and Mariana again. "Which one of you is Y/N Y/L/N?" One of them asks. "Me? What's going on?" You ask confused. People around you were looking at what was happening but thankfully the other security guards told them to keep it moving since they were holding up the line to get out of the section we were in. "Can you follow us?" The man asks. "Not until you tell me what's going on." You shake your head. "Joe Burrow wants a word with you him and Ja'Marr Chase, asked me to escort you two back to them." The large man says lowly near your ear. "Absolutely not." You shake your head. "Y/N...Maybe he can help with all these rumors and speculation. Finally put an end to all this..." Mariana says looking at you with pleading eyes, you knew she felt like crap for begging you come here. You look back at the security guard taking a deep breath and nod. They escort you to these golf carts and you and Mariana hop on. People looked at you both and took more pictures and video's which you despised. They take you where the locker rooms were and lead you to this lounge/ recreational type of area.

"The guys will be out any moment, feel free to help yourself to any drinks or snacks." One of them say. You and Mariana thank them and they leave you two alone. "Have you been here before?" You ask Mariana. "Twice, usually there's more girlfriends and wives in here though, kind of weird it's empty." Mariana says looking around, we were the only two in the room. You sit down and lean back in the seat just thinking about how this was happening. "You okay?" Mariana asks. "Nope." You shake your head. "What's running through your head?" She asks sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. "How I'm probably going to have to move out of Ohio and how I'm probably going to lose my job." You sigh. "Why would any of those happen?" She asks. "Mariana, I love you but you really don't get it do you?" You ask and she shakes her head no. You take a deep breath and let her in the situation.

"My job already threatened termination due to the whole cheating scandal video and I told them that it was just a big misunderstanding which it was but now that I'm here and new rumors are starting...it's going to look like confirmation that I actually did home-wreck and how I am now dating Joe." You sigh. "That's dumb! This is your personal life, even if any of this was true they have no right!" She scoffs. "Yeah but I represent the company and they don't want to be affiliated with someone like that, I'm so done there, I knew I should of stayed home." You rub your temples trying to think about how one stupid drunken night lead to all this. "I can talk to Ja'Marr maybe he can help with finding some good lawyers for you if that happens." Mariana says. "Lawyers for what? What did you two do?" You hear a voice say and you two turn your head to see Ja'Marr.

Mariana explains the situation to him and he shakes his head. "This is fucked up, I love Joe...he's my brother and all but he really threw you under the bus here." Ja'Marr says. "Yeah, well he doesn't think so." You shake your head. Speaking of the fucking devil, Joe walks into the room in some weird colorful sweats that made him look like rejected skittle. "Hey guys." He says mostly to Ja'Marr and Mariana. "Um...we'll leave you two alone. Here are my keys, Ja'Marr can take me home. Take my car, I'll pick it up tomorrow morning" Mariana says handing you the car keys. You say goodbye to Mariana and Ja'Marr and they walk out of the room. Mariana giving you one last supportive look before leaving.

"What is it that you want?" You ask Joe once they leave the room. "Why did you come here?" He asks right off the bat. "What?" You ask confused at that weird question. "Why did you come here? Was it to get back at me or something?" He asks. "What the hell are you talking about? I came here because Mariana begged me for days to attend this stupid game." You roll your eyes. "You just caused a whole lot of shit right now Y/N." Joe says shaking his head visibly upset. "ME!? Oh I'm sorry... was I the one that used you to get back at some girlfriend like we're 17 years old? Was I the one that let this whole shit fall on you and made you look like the bad guy when in reality it you had no idea what the hell was going on and that you even had a girlfriend let alone a girlfriend that was at the same fucking party as us!? How is this MY wrong doing. Tell me...Quickly." You cross your arms.

"You knew this was still blowing over, why the hell would you come to one of my games? It's to coincidental, I know you did this to rile shit back up! Stop acting so innocent." He spat back. "Your game? Since when were you the only player on the field. Your ego is out of this fucking world, especially since you think I'd be here to sabotage you in some way like you'd matter that much to me to do so. Get a fucking grip." You scoff.

"You can't come back here, I mean it. My publicist is on my ass right now about this and I have enough shit to worry about than worrying about you and your bullshit that you're causing me." Joe says angrily and you laugh. "What was it that you said to me last time when I told you my issue with this? Oh! that's right...I can't control what others say and it's not that serious. Stop being ridiculous, Joe." You smirk at him before you walk out of the room leaving Joe fuming just like you were at that party. Pay back is a fucking bitch.

************************

Later that night as you were getting out of the shower, Mariana calls you up. "Hey!" You answer after putting her on speaker. "Girl... what the hell happened?" Mariana asks. "About what?" You ask drying your body with the towel. "Joe just called Ja'Marr fuming about you, that he needed to stop giving you tickets to the games or whatever the hell it was that he was saying." Mariana said which made you laugh. "What a fucking idiot, as if anyone could control me going to one of their games, even if I got tickets through you guys or not, I can still buy my own." You shake your head as you put on your Pajamas.

"I just don't get how he doesn't see that he's the one in the wrong? Even Ja'Marr told him that he was being immature & out of pocket. And let me say he didn't like that one bit! Joe expects him to be on his side." Mariana sighs. "Of course he didn't like it, the guy is a narcissistic asshole." You scoff. "Well, anyway...I'll let you get to bed and stop bothering you with this. I just wanted to see if you were alright. I'll be over early tomorrow to get my car, hope that's okay?" She asks. "Yeah, I'll be up, just text me when you're on your way. See you then." You tell her grabbing your toothbrush. "See you." She says before hanging up. You couldn't help but to laugh to yourself about how much of an immature asshole Joe was. He could of cleared things up and controlled the dumpster fire he created but instead he wanted to play victim, which resulted in it now biting his ass. It was about time he got some of his own medicine.

After you brushed your teeth and moisturized, you plugged your phone up to the charger on your nightstand and got into bed. "What a fucking day." You say to yourself as you turn off your bedside light and got into bed, letting today's drama fade away from your dreams.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and needs a better contract. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: Uh, I didn't mean for this chapter to be as long as it is. But here it is. I hope you guys like it. Thank you for all the love and support you have shown for this series. It truly means a lot and it keeps my creativity going. Like the other chapters, this is lightly edited. I apologize for all mistakes you will find. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass

Chapter Five: Take Me, I'm Bad

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The song of the chirping cicadas floated through your open bedroom window and settled in the warm dark of your room. Curled up beneath the covers of your bed, you held a dark green flashlight in one hand while your other hand held open the book you were reading. You had plucked this book from your sister’s bookshelf. It had been a rather easy task to accomplish considering you shared your bedroom with your sister. Your sister’s bookshelf was small but packed with books. You had made it your mission a couple months back to read every book on your sister’s bookshelf. She only kept the books she liked and donated the ones she didn’t. You thought by reading the books she spent so much time with that you could learn how to be more like your sister. Instead, all you found so far was a captivating story. 

You were just beginning the next chapter of Gerald’s Game by Stephen King when you heard the front door downstairs open and close. You switched off your flashlight and closed your book before peeking out from underneath your covers. You watched as soft yellow light filled the tiny, thin space beneath your bedroom door. You rested your head against your pillow as you listened to multiple footsteps ascending the stairs. The footsteps stopped at your door, and when the door opened, your eyes squinted against the rush of light that flooded into your room. 

Two familiar silhouettes stood in the doorway. You blinked once, then twice, and a happy calm settled over you as your siblings entered the bedroom. Your brother’s blonde hair stuck up in odd directions, and the first two buttons of the white collared shirt he wore underneath his black suit were undone. Your sister looked relatively the same as when you saw her leave earlier in the evening except her hair looked slightly windblown. You sat up as your sister came and sat on the edge of your bed. A smile broke out across your face as your brother hummed a soft tune and gracefully turned in a tight circle. 

“He got to dance with Sadie,” your sister said.

You caught the scent of alcohol on your sister’s breath. You watched as your brother continued to dance happily in place. “What was it like?” 

Your brother’s happy smile grew. “It felt like being whole.”

Your sister rolled her eyes and opened up the small bag she had brought with her. “He’s also drunk. He’s not going to make sense until the morning.” She pulled out something wrapped in a brown napkin. She held it out to you. 

You took it and unwrapped the napkin. The sight of the chocolate chip cookie made your eyes widen and a rush warmed your body. You took a giant bite out of the cookie and savored the sweet chocolate that filled your mouth. 

“First it was like lightning,” your brother said as he danced his way towards your bed. “Bright. Blinding. Loud. I swear the ground shook.” He reached for your bed and started to shake it with a smile. When you laughed, he stopped and knelt down so he was eye level with you. “Then we were connected. Tethered. It was beautiful. I wanted to cry.” 

“So overdramatic,” your sister shook her head. “They danced to one song.” 

You swallowed your second bite of the chocolate chip cookie. “What song?” 

“It’s Friday, I’m in love,” your brother sang.

You sat up listening to your siblings’ stories about their Homecoming. Occasionally you would ask a question, but mostly you just listened. You tried to imagine it. Loud music. A gymnasium filled with older students. Dancing. It sounded fun. Nothing like the long boring lessons you would listen to. You couldn’t imagine any of your classmates dressed up like your siblings were. Except for Nat. 

You curled back up into your bed once your brother left for his room. You fell asleep to the chorus of the cicadas and the deep, even breathing of your sister. When you awoke the following morning, your brother and sister were already up. There was no sign of your father when you made your way downstairs, but you would often glance at the door that led to the basement as you ate the breakfast your brother made. 

Your brother was busy trying to find something to help dull his headache and your sister was busy washing the dishes when you mentioned Nat’s invitation. Both of your siblings shared a look before continuing with what they were doing. 

“How long will Dad’s visitor be staying?” your sister asked.

Your brother grabbed a pill bottle, unscrewed the top, and frowned when he found it empty. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Your sister handed you a plate to dry. “Just be back before the streetlights come on.”

When you left your house later in the day, you found Nat sitting on the curb outside her house. When you reached the end of your driveway and crossed the street, you saw a smile lift the corners of her lips. Your smile matched hers as she stood up. It felt weird following Nat up to her house. You have been friends for weeks but your time spent together always remained outside your homes. You didn’t know why Nat had never invited you over until today. But it had never struck you as odd. You would never bring Nat into your father’s house. That would be mean. 

The first thing you noticed upon entering was that Nat’s house was much brighter than yours. And warm. The family room looked lived in instead of staged. There were creases and marks on the furniture that only happened when it was used. The photographs that hung on the walls were of mostly Nat and her younger sister. It was such a strange sight to see photos of smiling, happy people. It reminded you of the books you have read or the movies you have seen. You thought this kind of stuff was only made up. 

The other thing about Nat’s house that was weird was how loud it was. You could hear people moving around in the kitchen. Their voices were light and devoid of any tension. You could hear Nat’s little sister laughing and a kind, older female voice spoke. A question floated through your mind that you banished quickly. You didn’t know what to do with all this new information. You felt like you had landed on a strange planet and were discovering an alien species. 

You followed Nat into the kitchen. The first thing you noticed was that the kitchen smelled good. The aroma was a complete opposite of what you were accustomed to: a strange mix of chemicals with an undercurrent of burnt food. Nat’s little sister Yelena was the first to greet you. You had met her before when you and Nat had spent your first afternoon together after school. Bits and pieces of Yelena’s happy, playful personality reminded you of your brother. It made you wonder sometimes if your brother would have turned out exactly like Yelena if all the other stuff hadn’t been crammed into him. 

After Yelena told you that she was helping her mom make cookies, your gaze shifted towards the woman. You didn’t know what to expect when you thought about meeting Nat’s mother. You had seen the woman before from afar. Her dark hair was long and pulled back into a neat ponytail. She wore an unbuttoned, soft looking navy blue shirt that hung open to reveal an equally soft looking white shirt underneath. Light blue denim jeans ran down her legs and ended at the gray converse that covered her feet. Her hazel brown eyes were warm, and your mind quickly erased the thick fog that would always accompany any of Nat’s stories that featured her mother. You memorized the look of her smiling face, and the ease you felt when she stepped closer to you. 

“You must be Y/N,” Nat’s mom said. 

You nodded. 

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” her mom said. 

“Thank you for having me,” you replied after remembering a scene from a movie you had watched last year with your siblings. You wanted to say something more, but your mind drew a blank. Before you could start digging any deeper, you felt Nat’s hand take yours. She pulled you away from the kitchen. You didn’t pull your hand away as she led you up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

You don’t know how long you stayed up there. You had never been in Nat’s room before and exploring it allowed you to forget about the whole world outside this house. You were a tiny bit jealous that Nat got a whole bedroom to herself. But that jealousy died underneath the cool posters that hung on her walls, the collection of CDs and VHS tapes she kept underneath her bed, and the photos she kept around her room of her family. 

You were sitting on her bed with her, looking through her collection of CDs when Nat selected a blue CD with a picture of a baby swimming after a dollar bill. 

“This one is my favorite,” she said as she grabbed her walkman. She put the CD in and then reached over to slip the headphones over your ears. The noise of the world around you fell away as the music played. You listened and watched Nat. You thought about how often she listened to this CD. She probably knew every word like you knew all the fine, intimate details of your favorite things. 

You had just finished her favorite CD and were discussing your favorite movies when Yelena entered Nat’s room and mentioned that dinner was ready. You and Nat followed her little sister downstairs and out onto their back deck. The delicious smell of grilled meats welcomed you along with a wave from a tall man with blonde hair, glasses, and a happy grin. 

“Welcome Y/N!” Nat’s father called from his spot behind the grill. With his free hand he gestured for you to come over. You made your way over, and your gaze fell upon the array of meats cooking on the grill. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet Nat’s new friend.” He gestured to the cooking meats. “You are in for a treat. Have you ever had reindeer before?” 

Your brow furrowed as you looked at the delirious smelling meats. “No, but is it supposed to look like rabbit meat?” 

Nat’s father’s laugh was as loud as thunder. “Looks like I’ll have to try harder to trick you. Do you eat rabbit often?” 

You shrugged and looked up at Nat’s father. “Only when we catch rabbits on the weekend.” You left her father’s side at the grill when Nat called you over. Despite what you saw cooking on the grill, Nat’s parents filled your plate with a hamburger, fresh corn, and pasta salad. The food tasted so good that you spent most of your time thinking up a clever way to sneak some of it back to your siblings while you answered easy questions from Nat’s parents. 

You had just finished cleaning your plate and Nat’s father had just launched into a story about his childhood when the doorbell rang. Nat’s mother got up to answer the door while you set your fork down. You wondered if Nat’s parents would let you take another plate full of food back to your house. You felt Nat’s hand brush against your own as her father continued on with his story. You looked down at your hands that rested on the table. You couldn’t help but think that this had been a good day. You wondered how often you could get away with spending your weekends with your friend. 

Nat’s father stopped talking, and your attention lifted when you heard Nat’s mother return to the back deck. The warm ease that had guided you through the day abandoned you at the sight of your father standing next to Nat’s mom. Your hand moved away from Nat’s and curled around your fork as your father’s steel gray eyes focused solely on you. 

You felt the first tendril of dread unfurl underneath his stare. 

Middle of Nowhere – 2010 

You glare up at the roof of the car. Your neck is sore from sleeping in a car for the last five hours. Your back isn’t too pleased with you either. You plant your feet against the smooth leather of the car’s backseat and lift your hips up. You pull a pair of green hunting fatigues up over your legs. As your hips lower back onto the backseat, you wonder if you should suggest coming up with a contract between you and your father. Draw some hard lines. Maybe make it a rule that you can’t be forced to spend more than twelve hours with him because it always leads to some terrible job that you are stuck completing. 

A number of other things quickly come to mind to add to this possible contract. Creative freedom being one of the bigger ones. You sit up and pull on a dark green, long sleeved shirt. As this contract idea becomes more tangible in your mind, you bend down and pull on a pair of brown boots. When you are done, you place your clothes from the previous night on the seat next to you. As your fingers brush against the fabric of your favorite navy blue suit jacket, her face comes to your mind. The highlight of the previous night. You can’t wait to do whatever it is your father needs you to do so you can go home. You have so much planning to do. 

You pull your fingers away and open the car door. You step out onto a dirt road that runs through the middle of nowhere. A thick forest hugs both sides of the dirt road. The morning has barely begun. You close the car door and turn towards the car’s trunk. It is open with your father standing in front of it dressed in the same tuxedo as last night. The moment he sees you, he reaches into the trunk and throws a green camo jacket towards you. You catch it. 

“We need to review our contract,” you say as you put the jacket on. 

“I do not have time today to entertain your fantasies, Y/N,” your father says as his attention returns to the trunk of the car. “You don’t have time for it either. This is an important day.” He pulls out a yellow, letter sized envelope and hands it to you. 

You take it. “When we renegotiate my contract, we are adding a clause that demands a rest period between important jobs.” You open the envelope and pull out two photographs. The first photograph is a picture of a bald man with a bushy brown mustache. He looks older, a bit older than your father, with dark brown eyes and lips pressed into a serious line. The second photograph is of a younger man with nearly the same color eyes as the first. His dark hair is cut close to his head, and you guess that he’s in his late twenties. 

“Erik and Elias Braun. Father and son. They are out hunting in these woods. Kill them,” your father says. 

You study the two photographs again before handing them back to your father. “I’m assuming that your important client wants this job done quietly too?” You move to stand in front of the trunk, next to your father. Inside the trunk of the black Lexus is a small assortment of weapons. Your eyes fall immediately on your trustworthy Beretta handgun. You pick it up. Its familiar weight is satisfying. 

“The client wants them dead,” your father replies. “It doesn’t matter how. Their retrieval team will clean up the mess.” 

You tuck the Beretta against the small of your back and drape your heavy jacket over it. “Retrieval team? Fancy.” You plant your right foot against the Lexus’ rear bumper and tuck a hunting knife into your boot. 

“Merely only the tip of the iceberg, Y/N,” your father replies. “I figured you would enjoy the freedom of this job. However, I would suggest against doing anything loud and explosive.” He watches as you fill your jacket’s inner pockets with ammunition. “Any unwanted attention will need to be dealt with swiftly.” 

You grab a hunting rifle and look over at your father. “Fine. But I’m going home after this. And I’m taking the next two weeks off.” That should be enough time to check in with your brother and sister, write up a much needed contract, and figure out how to leave her a message. Ideally, you’d love to text her. But that requires knowing her phone number. 

Your hunting rifle hangs from your shoulder as you leave the dirt road and enter the woods. The smell of the dirt and the soft sounds of wildlife tug at clouded memories. These woods are nothing like the woodlands of Ohio. You remember there being more acorns. You remember the feel of them underneath your boots. You remember the sound of their hard shells cracking. You also remember it being colder. You remember shivering as you laid in the mud. You remember the fear of your fingers going numb. You wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger fast enough. 

The fragments of your childhood are forgotten when you pick up your targets’ trail. The partial bootprints pressed into the dirt next to greenish-brown droppings point the way forward. As you walk, you can feel your night of lackluster sleep sapping at the energy you have left. It almost feels cruel that the important client has set up this job to be an open canvas. If you were in your usual mood, you would have definitely come up with something far more creative than sniping your targets from a distance. But you are tired and your body is sore. Sniping your targets will be easy and fast. 

You follow the tracks until the next dropping you come across looks shinier than the one before. A fresh dropping. Your targets’ prey is close. You break off from the trail and walk until you find a decent spot with plenty of brush to conceal your position. You bite back the curses you want to utter as you sink towards the ground. Your front presses into the firm ground as your hands wrap around your hunting rifle. You look through the scope and see nothing but more brush and trees. It’s quiet except for the steady beating of your heart. 

Chirping birdsong pecks at the settling quiet. The morning sun continues its slow ascent. The breeze that blows over your back still carries the previous night’s chill. Slowly, your one hand unwraps from the rifle and you stretch your fingers. You know your targets are close, and you wish you could will them into your line of fire. Your mind wanders to what your future holds. How to drop back into her life is what you want to focus on. For once you are anxious to see a target’s face not because you want to watch that moment when they go still. You are chasing after the same look she gave you back in Amsterdam. The surprise. The recognition. 

A dark furred rabbit jumps into your line of sight. The hand you were stretching clamps down around your rifle. The corners of your lips tug down into a frown as your finger rests against the trigger. You want to squeeze the trigger so badly. It would only take a single shot. It would also expose your position. The single gunshot would send your targets running. But you know you would feel a sliver of satisfaction. 

The rabbit darts away as a buck steps into your line of sight. Finally. As the buck’s head lowers to graze, you quietly turn your rifle to search the trees and brush. It takes a few minutes, but you spot it. Laying in the brush roughly fifty feet away was Elias. Most of the brush covers him, but you can clearly see the muzzle of his black hunting rifle. You don’t see any sign of Erik, but he can’t be too far away. In fact, you are certain that taking your shot at Elias will quickly lure your other target out. 

You line up your shot to where you know Elias’ head should be. The buck continues to graze as you stare through your scope. You can feel the beginning warmth of excitement shake off the weight of your tired, sore body. You breathe in, and then out. Your hands are steady. Your fingers aren’t numb. You still can’t see anything but the muzzle of Elias’ gun, but you know that’s where his head will be. But only for the next second or two. 

The muzzle of Elias’ gun does not move, and neither does your aim. You can picture the bullet’s impact. Every other thought drains from your mind as you stare through the scope at the brush. Your finger is warm as it rests against the trigger. Your breaths are slow and even. You feel another breeze blow across your back, and the morning light darkens for a moment. The morning sunlight has already returned as you tilt your head away from the scope. The buck is no longer grazing, and its head is lifted upwards. You follow the creature’s gaze upwards but see nothing except a clear blue sky. 

When your gaze lowers, you spot it. It’s a miracle that you even manage to spot it because the tiny red dot jumps from the bark of the tree next to you and lands on your shoulder. The dot doesn’t stop and begins a fast climb up towards your neck where you can no longer see it. The calm stillness that has wrapped around you breaks at the first quickened beat of your heart. All the thoughts you had shoved into the back of your mind comes rushing to the forefront, and the first thought to win that race was: fuck. 

You pull your hunting rifle to your chest and roll to your left just as a gunshot cracks into the morning air. You hear the bullet thud into the ground where you had been less than a second ago. Another bullet follows the first and as you roll onto your feet, you feel the second bullet slice through the fabric of your pants just below your knee. The buck darts away, and you are running too. Bullets nip at your heels as you run towards the closest tree with a trunk wide enough for cover. The bullets stop just as you reach the tree. You press your back against the rough bark and glance down at your leg. No pain. No wound. Not even a scratch. Just a tear in your pants. 

The sound of heavy, racing footsteps reaches your ears as you lift your head from examining your torn pant leg. Your eyes spot another tree wide enough for cover and you start running. You’ve only taken a few steps when the gunshots explode into the air again. Bullets pelt into the ground at your feet and slice the bark off of nearby trees. Right as you near a nice wide tree, you turn quickly and lift your hunting rifle. You fire off two quick shots and then dart behind the tree. Another bullet slams into the tree you are hiding behind. 

Something cuts through the air above you and flies towards the source of the shooting. Your head tilts back as you try to see what just flew through the air, but you see nothing but a bright, white explosion engulfing a tall tree roughly two hundred feet from your position. The heavy, racing footsteps catch up and one of your targets darts out from around a nearby tree. Elias. You mutter a curse under your breath as he lifts his rifle and fires. You race around another tree, turn, and return fire with three bullets of your own. Neither hit as Elias darts behind his own tree. You squeeze the trigger again and hear a dissatisfying click. Another curse spits from your mouth as you quickly hide behind a tree. Your hand dives into one of your pockets, and your fingers wrap tightly around a fresh magazine. 

Elias rounds the tree you are hiding behind before you can pull the magazine from your pocket. You smash the butt of your rifle into his chest, and the muzzle of his gun shifts upward just as he pulls the trigger. Your hand abandons its journey for fresh ammunition and you let go of your hunting rifle as both of your hands wrap around the long barrel of Elias’ rifle. You keep the muzzle pointed upwards as you fight to rip your target’s weapon from his grasp. You can feel Elias trying to force the muzzle of his gun downwards towards your chest. 

Two quick gunshots cut through your struggle and Elias’ body shakes before he drops. You let go of your target’s gun as he hits the ground. You see two crimson stains starting to grow in earnest from Elias’ chest. Your gaze lifts and lands on a sight that warms the last bits of the morning chill. 

She stands no more than a few feet away. She is dressed in the same black catsuit she wore in Amsterdam. Her gun is drawn and aimed at Elias. This shouldn’t feel like a surprise. She’s nipping at your heels. Of course she would show up here. Wherever the hell you guys are. Still, you can’t help the joy you feel at this little twist. You can feel your smile starting to curl your lips as her attention shifts to you. 

“Hi, Nat,” you say. It doesn’t escape your notice that her gun stays aimed at Elias. 

She takes a step forward. “Y/N–”

A series of four gunshots cuts her off as you both retreat behind two thick trees. Four bullets hit the ground where you both had been standing a moment ago. Your smile falls at the unwanted space shoved between you two. With your back pressed, once again, against a tree, you look over towards the tree Nat hides behind. She lifts her hand and you see her talk into her wrist. The next two gunshots mask whatever she says as one bullet chips part of the bark of the tree you are using for cover. 

A groan drags your attention away from Nat. You look down and find Elias on his knees reaching for his gun. You see your opportunity and you go for it. Your left boot comes down your target’s gun just as he manages to grab it. Your right boot swings up and smashes into your target’s face. You hear something crunch as Elias’ head shoots back from the force of your kick. Dark drops of crimson blood decorate the brown toe of your hunting boot as you lift your left foot up and reach down for Elias’ gun. 

You feel the warm metal of the gun glide beneath the tips of your fingers as the rifle slides across the ground, kicked away from you. You watch where the gun slides to a stop before you look over at Nat. The space that had been wedged between you two earlier is gone. She stands just out of arm’s reach. The gun in her hand is lowered and pointed towards the ground. 

“We need to talk,” she says. 

“I haven’t forgotten last night’s chat,” you reply as your smile returns. “I was going to call you later.” 

“No. Not about that,” she says. Your focus hangs off that last word. It’s loaded and you are eager to know exactly what she means. “We need to talk about this.”

Your building excitement drops away almost instantly. Your smile falters. “Really?” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes when you see the seriousness in her olive green eyes. You’ve seen that look before. So many times. You shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

She takes a small step closer, and you know she’s now in arm’s reach. You can feel your heartbeat quicken. “He’s using you, Y/N.” 

Your smile falls completely when you see a hint of that sadness from last night creep into those familiar eyes. You can feel your body nearly buzzing with energy, but the warm joy from earlier freezes and turns into something else. 

“You don’t have to keep doing his dirty work.”

You need to move. You need to do something. You can feel the energy crawling beneath your skin and you need to do something to let it out. Anything. Before you wanted to just close the distance. Sink into this wonderful game you two have created. The very thing that makes you feel as alive as when you end the lives of countless targets. But now it’s becoming corrupted and you turn away. 

Her hand reaches out and you feel the warmth of her fingers close around your wrist. In an instant, you turn back to face her and yank her hand from her hold. That wasn’t when she was supposed to touch you. You have thought up dozens of scenarios for this moment, but not this. Not when your game is spoiled. 

“You did all that digging and that’s what you think?” your voice bites with an edge you hate. “I’m not being used. This is what I do, Nat. This is what I’m good at.” No. That’s not what you’re supposed to say! That is supposed to stay buried. You’re supposed to say anything else. You can feel everything starting to crack. You can see it. It’s going to fall apart. Why the fuck did you say that? Why the hell are you even talking about–

Erik rushes out from behind a tree carrying his hunting rifle in both hands while an arrow (an arrow?) sticks out from his upper arm. Nat turns when she hears his hurried approach, and your hand quickly drops back to reach for your gun tucked against the small of your back. You see Nat raise her gun towards Erik as he takes aim at you. Your fingers manage to brush against the grip of your Beretta before something collides right into you. The force sends you to the ground with a graceless thud. An exchange of gunfire is the only thing you hear as Elias appears on top of you. His angry, red face fills your vision as his hands go for your throat. You both are rolling and just before his fingers can wrap around your throat, you’ve rolled on top of him. 

Your moment of luck ends abruptly as you both roll over the edge of a hill. You no longer hear the sounds of gunfire. You only hear the sound of your body rolling over dead fallen leaves, fallen twigs and branches, and whatever else you are unlucky enough to roll over. Definitely some animal droppings. It isn’t until your shoulder slams into a tree and a crunching noise echoes in your ears that you stop rolling. The pain is sharp and reverbates down your arm. You can’t stop the single cry that slips out as the world spins. 

Don’t stop. 

You can hear Elias moving next to you. You try to move your left arm, but the sharp pain stops you. You can hear your target’s heavy breaths. Then, you can hear his laugh. You look over at him as he stumbles to his feet. Bright red blood leaks from his nose and mouth. When he smiles, his teeth are coated red. He steps towards you, and your left foot kicks out at his leg. You see his leg buckle and your right hand drops to your right boot. You sit up as your hand closes around the handle of your hunting knife. His leg gives out and Elias drops to his knee. His hands reach out towards you, and his mouth parts to let out a harsh, guttural shout. You feel warm globs of saliva and blood hit your cheeks when you drive your hunting knife into the side of Elias’ neck.  

His shout stops, and you feel his hands find your throat. His hands don’t squeeze. In fact, all his hands do is just…hang there. You watch as his dark brown eyes slowly widen. You can smell the sour stench of his sweat and body odor mixed with the heavy aroma of gunpowder. You feel his body give a short, fast shake as a choking breath escapes his bloodied mouth. You keep your hand on the handle of your knife. This is your favorite part, and usually all you feel is blissful wonderment as your targets go still. Yet you don’t feel wonderment or bliss. Your thoughts are tied up with her. How you said the wrong thing. How this whole day would now live forever in your mind with your words on repeat. 

This is what you’re good at. And you are. The delight you feel as you pull your knife from your target’s neck overrides the burning pain in your shoulder. His hands fall limp from your throat as his choked breaths become heavy and wet. More blood floods from your target’s mouth and spills down his throat. As you watch him, you wonder who he is. He’s not afraid. By now, with the writing clearly on the wall, your targets drown in their fear. Elias only chokes on his blood and holds your stare. When you feel the sting of your dislocated shoulder again, you frown and slam the heel of your booted foot into Elias’ chest. He falls backwards and continues to choke until his body goes still. 

With your bloodied hunting knife in hand, you slowly climb to your feet. You look down at Elias’ body. Blood continues to leak from the hole you created in his neck and the two holes Nat shot into his chest. One target down. Your attention shifts to your left arm. It hangs uselessly at your side. Damn tree. You look over at the tree that caused your pain. You shift your stance a bit. You’re positive that if you angle things just right you could–

You hear the crunch of fallen leaves and turn. You raise your knife and bring it down. Her hands catch yours before the tip of your knife can get close. In one fluid, graceful move, she turns you around and pulls your arm up behind your back. Your grip on your knife tightens quickly as her other arm wraps around your neck. You feel her front press against your back and that rush you felt before comes roaring back. 

“I know what it’s like to be used by other people,” her voice brushes against your ear while she pushes your arm up slightly.

You bite back your grimace at the pain. “Can’t relate.” When she pushes your arm up even higher and starts twisting your wrist, you finally let go of your knife. You hear it hit the ground by your feet. When she stops twisting your wrist, you take a step back and push back against her. You both stumble backwards until her back hits the tree behind her. The moment her hold on you slackens, you step forward, pull your Beretta free from its’ home against the small of your back, and turn to face her. 

Your smile returns when you find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. Your grip on your gun is steady as you point it at her. Your finger hovers over the trigger. You wait for her next move. You’re pretty sure she’s not going to shoot you. Just like you know you won’t be able to pull the trigger on her. 

Something hits your leg and falls at your feet. You look down and find a black cylinder object laying at your feet with thick gray smoke leaking from it. When you look back up at Nat, you see the same question you’re thinking flash across her face. And then the gray smoke swallows you both up. You take a step back when Nat disappears completely from view. You go to turn, but thick arms quickly wrap around your body and pin your arms to your sides. A pinprick of pain presses into the side of your neck, and suddenly everything starts to spin. You hear someone shout, and you’re not quite sure if that was Nat shouting or you. But the world keeps spinning until darkness takes hold. Then, you fall.