#if you do it to Ram (only the first letter) you get Sam

[astercontrol]

if you shift every letter in "HAL" to the letter that comes immediately after it in the alphabet you get "IBM"

if you do the same to "AI" you get "BJ"

this has absolutely no meaning and i am not sure why i am saying it

[sparrow-in-boots]

amanda the adventurer and fairies (if you even care)

imo we're too focused on christian mythos with all the demons and sacrificial lambs, and forgetting the very pointed celtic mythology cues in this narrative and I'm here to be the change I wanna see in the world, so let's go!

game spoilers below, you know the deal uwu

I think the biggest hint that we should not get hung up on Christian mythology, is the fact that in the very introduction with the letter by Aunt Kate, she pointed says "by the gods." Not "by God", gods plurals. We're to take a polytheistic angle with this, but which exactly is nebulous at first.

Behind the Catching Up With Colton news clipping, there's news about a Celtic relic, the crown of the stag, being stolen, and suspicion of a gang called the Demons. This was pointed out as an easter egg from another game, but I feel there's more to it.

For the most obvious lead, there's the Pied Piper theory for Hameln entertainment, which is a fairytale. In the Coffee Break tape, we see how Sam wanted to "show the world is a magical place" which I do believe he meant as just that, being optimistic as he's characterized, but that's also a lot of settings in fairytales. There's the known world and the fantastical, magical world. And to expand on that, the setting of the story being limited to a single city and community instead of being something with a broader reach matches the usual setting of a fairytale being restricted to a single village or town. Not that unlike the Pied Piper story itself, set in the city of Hamelin.

If you really want to squint at it, things such as baking and sending cookies as a form of thanks, while pretty common daily life things are also linked to rituals to pacify the fey and offer thanks to magical beings. Cookies and pies are also incredibly common baked goods in fairytales, and for instance, the tale of Hansel and Gretel has a house of candies that lure them inside, to a witch who would fatten them up and eat them. While sweets are present in the tapes, they are often exchanged for pieces of meat and organs, almost as if they are interchangeable.

Bringing it back to the Celtic Relic clipping, there's a long explanation that the crown was given as a peace promise between the Fey and the human kings. As such, let's take a look at Celtic mythology.

Foxes in myth are messengers between worlds and are often connected to the afterlife. Also, foxes are often portrayed as fey-aligned creatures, due to their mischievous and cunning nature. Also to go broader than that, there are the myths of Reynard the Fox, a trickster spirit in folktales across Europe that often coexists with Isengrim the Wolf. It's also a common trope that foxes can shapeshift.

Picking a fox to die in a hidden bear trap is quite symbolic in itself. The fairytale character who outwits all and escapes the most difficult situations has been bested, not only defeated but killed. "Silly Mr. Fox" can not only be a display that there is no clever way out of this trap, but also that traveling between worlds is impossible or will kill you.

Now to the "Lonely Kitten", she's clearly representative of Rebecca, caught in a trap as well and without help in sight. When you try to help her, you end up as one more hanging piece of meat. Cats however are more deeply connected to fairies than foxes, with myths like the Cat-sìth which steal souls from the deceased and can curse folks who won't pacify them. One is even described as "the king of cats." While these cats are described as big as dogs, and black with a spot of white on their chests, choosing a cat is quite the artistic choice.

As for Wooly, sheep have in christian mythos the symbolism of the sacrificial lamb and so on, but let's take a look at Celtic tradition.

In Irish myth, the goddess Brigid (associated with wisdom, poetry, healing, protection, smithing and domesticated animals) was the owner of Cirb, a castrated ram who was king of all the rams and sheep of Ireland. Brigid was one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a group of gods that became the Aen Seidhe. The fairies.

Furthermore, Cirb rules even over the seven sheep that belong to Manannán, a warrior god and ruler of the Otherworld, a realm of gods and the dead. He's responsible for keeping it hidden with a veil of invisibility, and it has been pointed out that at least two of the demons Rebecca is made to recite the names of are also granters of invisibility. Not only that, these sheep were fabled to produce enough wool to clothe every man, woman, and child the world over.

In a crossroads of christian and pagan, there's a myth that animals gain the power of speech after the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, including sheep. On most stories, it can only happen when they are observed and are unknowingly overheard by humans. There's also the common trope that children can hear the voice of animals while adults cannot, as a show of the magic of innocence.

I can't quite especulate much beyond this, but I think there's something to chew on here.

[griffintail]

Hey Griffin I love your work, your writing is amazing, and I was wondering if I could spare you an angsty request: Parental Tommy falls into deep grief after their child, Reader, goes into prison to tell Dream off for blowing up their home and hurting their father and Uncle Tubbo, and gets killed by Dream. Maybe how Wilbur and Schlatt react to Reader in the afterlife, and what Tommy does to try and get them back. (Inspired by this week's streams)

I went farther than with this than I planned to originally. Lol. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Quiet Uptown

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage F! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mentions of Violence, Angst!!, afterlife, swearing

A/N: (F/L) is first letter of your first name because that’s just a Tommy thing.

        Sam hesitated when (Y/N) had stepped into his prison that day.

        The young sixteen-year-old girl stood there; her eyes filled with determination as she waited for Sam to speak.

        “What are you doing here?” Sam asked, standing up. “Does Tommy know you’re here?”

        “No.” She answered truthfully. “He won’t realize I’m gone for maybe two hours. He wouldn’t ever let me near here but I want to give Dream a piece of my mind after everything he’s put my family through. Dad and I both own only one life after everything he’s one and I want to let him know how badly he lost.”

        “I…Don’t think this is wise. You’re just a kid.”

        “I’m more than a kid! Everyone seems to forget I fought for Pogtopia at the age of thirteen and lost a life for it. I went and helped dad every day in his exile when no one else would! Dream killed me for that bullshit and I refuse to let him think he has control over me and my family anymore.”

        Sam could see it was more than that. She wanted to know that Dream no longer held control over her and her family. Dream had taken everything from them. Their nation, their family members, their two spare lives, their friends. Now he was locked away after Tommy won and she needed to know he couldn’t control them anymore.

        “Alright. Well, I need you to read this carefully and sign it.” Sam slipped into his role as Warden.

        He walked (Y/N) through the clearance steps and lead her down through the prison.

        Dream was a broken man. Sam made sure his spirit was broken and the masked man had long since stopped trying to escape. The poor young girl needed closure.

        …Sam was overconfident in his abilities.

        “If you need anything, call for me,” Sam told her and she nodded.

        And she was let into the cell.

        The man of the hour was surprised by his visitor, picking himself off the floor as he grinned behind his mask.

        “Well, well, well. It’s little Innit.”

        “Shut up.” (Y/N) immediately said. “You’ll listen to me today.”

        Dream held up his hands, giving a laugh. “Alright. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

        (Y/N) looked around the small cell and was reminded of her father’s claustrophobia…that Dream caused.

        “It’s fitting for you to be in here. Trapped in a box. Your life thrown in a hole, waiting to be destroyed.” (Y/N) said. “You did a lot to my family Dream, you hurt them, you killed them. There are people out there that say you don’t deserve this but I know everything you’ve done. You’re going to rot in here forever if it’s the last thing I do.”

        “You’ve got a pretty big ego there.”

        “You’re one to talk! You took everything from us because you couldn’t handle that we took away even a bit of your power!” She took a deep breath to calm herself and Dream saw the Tommy in her. “You tried to kill Tubbo, you were going to used what everyone loved against them. You’re a psychopath and you can’t be let out.”

        “People can change though. I can change and get out.”

        “You’ll never change! You’re talking bullshit and I know! Dad knows it! Sam, Tubbo, Quackity! You’re just bullshit! You’re a green little bitch and you’ll never get out! You can’t hurt us anymore. We’re in control now and we’re free from you forever.” She told him, getting in his masked face without thinking.

        She never meant to go so far into the cell…Sam had asked her not to…

        Dream’s grin turned wicked, (Y/N) unable to see it but she felt something in the air change and she paled slightly as she took a step back towards the netherite barrier realizing how far she went.

        “I might not be able to hurt anyone…outside!”

        “SAM!” She screamed, bolting for the barrier…but Dream was faster…

        “DREAM! DON’T!!” Sam commanded as he tried to bring the lava down as fast as he could! …

        …

        “Come on Tubbo. You’re getting shit at this.” Tommy laughed as he knocked Tubbo’s wooden training sword out of his hand.

        “You’re such an arse.” Tubbo huffed, going over to get some water.

        Tommy grinned. He had missed this, just being to train with Tubbo for the hell of it. (Y/N) said she needed to do something Ranboo, so it felt like he was missing something during the training but he was glad to know she was able to go out in the world without him worrying. Dream wasn’t out there anymore.

        The taller man was practicing his swings when Tubbo heard both their walkies beep. Someone must be calling them. Tubbo picked up his walkie, going to answer but his eyes went wide as he saw why the walkie had beeped. He dropped it, taking a step back, making Tommy look over in confusion.

        “What’s wrong with you?” Tommy asked, going over to see what it was.

        “T-Tommy, don’t—” Tubbo started but Tommy had already picked up the walkie.

        Tommy entire world stopped as he stared at the words on the screen.

        (Y/N) was slain by Dream

        “This—This is a stupid fucking joke.” Tommy tried to say, looking at Tubbo.

        But Tubbo had both his hands over his mouth as he was already starting to cry.

        “She…He’s in prison!” He shouted as he went for his own walkie. “This is shit joke Tubbo!”

        He couldn’t breathe as his walkie displayed the same message. It felt like the world around him was getting smaller as he couldn’t think of anything but those five words.

        “It’s not true!” Tommy screamed before snatching up his gear.

        He ran out the door to find it raining. His trident came off his back and was soaring through the air after throwing it through the rain. There was no fucking way, she was with Ranboo! Dream was rotting in a cell! He made sure of it!

        His baby should be as safe as she could be!

        Mud splashed all over him as he landed in front of the prison complex, soaking wet but he felt so numb. He couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t care about anything else, he just wanted to know who was playing this cruel joke.

        “SAM!” Tommy stormed in.

        Sam clutched the figure to him as he made his way past the empty prison cells hearing Tommy’s voice.

        He failed…

        This was all his fault…

        Sam stared at the last door where Tommy shouted his name again before taking a deep breath and opening it.

        Tommy snapped his head over and his entire world collapsed as Sam held the bloody figure in his arms. Their blood was coating Sam’s armor along with their own clothes.

        “No, no…NO! NO!!” Tommy shouted as he gripped his head taking a step back.

        That couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t be! She shouldn’t be here! She wasn’t here! It was all a…a dream…a nightmare!

        “Tommy.” Sam let out a heartbroken voice.

        Tommy looked up and looked to her neck. The (F/C) bandana was undeniable…

        Taking a shaky step forward, Tommy took the girl from Sam before collapsing to the ground, sobbing when he saw what Dream had done to her. He rocked, back and forth as he held her close.

        “Please…please little (F/L)…come back to me. I’m here now.” Tommy choked out his words as he stared down at the bloody girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Please come back (Y/N).”

        He put his forehead on hers as his tears stained her face.

        He let out a heartbroken scream!

        And it echoed all throughout the prison, making Dream’s maniacal laughter continue in his cell.

        …

        “Who’s this?” A voice asked.

        (Y/N) groaned at the feeling of a pounding headache before looking up.

        “(Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here first.” She heard a much more familiar voice.

        She looked up seeing her Uncle Wilbur grinning at her.

        “W-Wilbur?”

        “Ayup.” He chuckled. “Nice to see you again kid.”

        “Where…Where…” She looked around at the darkness, startling when she saw the familiar ram man and scooted away. “Schlatt.”

        “Hey, brat. Nice to see you again.” He grinned. “Welcome to the afterlife.”

        “I’m…I died?” Her breathing picked up.

        Her head started to hurt and she gripped onto it as she remembered. The blood…the pain…daddy save me!

        She startled feeling a hand on her shoulder, seeing it was Schlatt as Wilbur stood there with his hands in his coat.

        “Yeah, it’s going to be pretty hard.” Wilbur shrugged. “We’ll…show you around.”

        Wilbur laughed as Schlatt rolled his eyes.

        “Come on brat.” He offered her a hand. “We’ll explain it all to you.”

        …

        Tubbo was waiting at Tommy’s base, his own heart shattering seeing his best friend sniffling as he wiped away his tears while covered in blood.

        “No.” Tubbo breathed.

        Tommy couldn’t think at the moment. The world seemed unreal. He couldn’t feel the rain hitting his body or the cold starting to set into him.

        “My little girl’s gone Tubbo.” He muttered.

        “I’m so sorry Tommy. What…what happened?” Tubbo asked.

        “I-I don’t know. I just…” Tommy put his hands through his hair, his breaths coming out short. “(Y/N)—She…Holy shit…My poor little (F/L)…”

        Tubbo came over putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “Breathe Tommy.”

        “How?! My—She’s gotten! Beaten and blooded! She must have been terrified and I—I wasn’t there Tubbo!” Tommy shouted putting his hands over his face.

        “…What are you going to do?” Tubbo asked.

        Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t think, I need…I need the night to get anything in me…”

        “Yeah, ok. I’ll stay.”

        “No, I…I really need some time alone right now,” Tommy told him.

        “…Ok. I’ll get a room at the hotel so I’ll be close by, ok?”

        “Yeah, alright,” Tommy muttered before pushing past into his house.

        Tubbo let tears roll down his cheeks before he looked at the prison, marching himself over.

        Tommy stood inside the house and…it felt so small and so quiet. He laughed bitterly to himself. Finally, it being quiet uptown made so much sense to him. Everything felt so dull and silent.

        Slowly, he went into his ender chest and pulled out his first disc. He stared down at it as he remembered finding (Y/N) after he found this disc. He ran a thumb over it as he remembered every time, he fought Dream for it till the final battle. He went to the bedroom, staring at the made bed across the room.

        He went to the jukebox and put the disc in as he sat on his bed staring at the empty one. His body broke down again as he cried into his hands.

        “If I had just kept the memories and you instead of this stupid disc you’d still be here!” He shouted to air. “I’m so sorry (Y/N)…I’m so sorry…”

        At the prison, Tubbo stormed in with a trident in hand.

        “What the hell happened?!” Tubbo demanded, Sam, sitting on his desk trying to process his own thoughts.

        “I was too late…” Sam muttered.

        “That answers nothing. What happened?!”

        “…She wanted to see Dream. She wanted closure after everything you’ve guys have been through…she was just a kid…and…”

        “Yeah, she was a kid, so why did you let her in?!”

        “Because she looked so broken. She wanted to see Dream couldn’t hurt her anymore. I-I-I thought I got the strength out of him! Then…she screamed for help…I tried to get in as fast as I could…he just laughed when I came in…”

        “…You shouldn’t have let her in.”

        Sam hung his low, knowing he was right.

        …

        (Y/N) sat watching the two men play solitaire.

        “Why’d you even go and see Dream?” Wilbur asked as he laid down an eight of spades on a nine of hearts.

        (Y/N) felt her throat tighten, it always making her feel weird when she did it past few days as she didn’t need to exactly breath.

        “I was having nightmares, Dream getting out and sit. I just…needed to see he was away, unable to hurt me.”

        Wilbur snorted and Schlatt punched him.

        “Shut the hell up man,” Schlatt told him.

        “Well, it obviously didn’t help, she’s here.” Wilbur rolled his eyes as Schlatt put down a five of diamonds. “And no punching, that’s round five.”

        (Y/N) breathing picked up and Schlatt huffed, throwing his cards down.

        “We’re not going to finish?” Wilbur questioned.

        “No, you’re driving us both nuts. Let’s go kid.” Schlatt hoisted her up and away, surprising her as that was the first time, he didn’t call her brat.

        (Y/N) glanced back seeing Wilbur continuing to play his game without them. She remembered Wilbur being insane before in Pogtopia. This was a whole new level.

        “We’ve been here for years,” Schlatt spoke, making her look at him. “He was nuts before; he’s even more fucked up now. I’m still more me because I’d rather sleep through this shit. You know the phrase I’ll sleep when I’m dead? That’s what I’m doing.” He grinned at his own joke.

        She snorted quietly, as she looked at her hands. “I just want to see my dad so bad…I lied to him as my last thing and…I miss him.”

        “I know kid. It’s hard for us to get down there though. I don’t even know how fuck face managed it.”

        “…Do you think he’s mad at me?” She asked.

        “No, I remember that stupid kid. If anything, someone probably had to hold him back, foaming at the mouth, from killing Dream himself with his bare hands. He wouldn’t be mad at you.”

        She smiled softly. She wished this had been president Schlatt and maybe everything would have been better. But Wilbur was right, L’Manberg needed to go, it corrupted everyone.

        …

        “Tommy,” Sam said as they stood in front of the lava wall.

        Four days had passed. Tommy had a funeral for his little girl and there had been gifts and tributes for her, but nothing made it, her. He felt like he was suffocating constantly and he couldn’t take it anymore. She had no ghost so Phil’s research would give him no help. But…there was one other thing.

        “You know what he’s going to ask for,” Sam spoke the obvious.

        “I know. He’s not going to get it.” Tommy said, his voice dead.

        Sam gripped the lever that would bring down the lava wall. “He hasn’t eaten in two days, he’ll be weak.”

        “Good. Now let me in.” Tommy stepped forward.

        Sam hesitated before pulling the lever. After a few minutes, Tommy was standing behind the netherite barrier. Dream grinned, his mask off as he stood up, holding his hands out.

        “The man of the hour! I’ve been waiting for you!” Dream laughed.

        The barrier dropped and Tommy walked in.

        “Bring her back.” Tommy simply stated.

        “Can’t without the book, you know what I’m going to need.”

        Tommy nodded, walking forward before hitting Dream with surprising force that sent him to the ground.

        “We’re…going to have a nice long chat,” Tommy told the surprised man in a monotone voice. “And it’s going to end with where you put that book or how to get my little girl back. So, let’s talk bitch.”

        Tommy would get her back. He wouldn’t let this be the end.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Hey! Can you please do 20 (escape room). I would love to read it, and see them be cute and chaotic at the same time. Thank you!!!

Thank you so much for the prompt, @vasudharaghavan! 🥰 Fantastic choice and of course they're going to be chaos in an Escape Room 😂 I hope you enjoy! 🥰

Date 13 of 28: Escape Room

| - 12 - | - Prompt - | - 14 - |

"Where's the key?!" said Joaquín, running around the room like he was actually going to die if that doomsday clock struck zero, "There has to be a key around here somewhere!"

"Motherfucker, the zombie's chain is getting longer again!" shouted Sharon like that wasn't just a college student in costume makeup as she, Joaquín, Wong, Monica, Bucky, and Sarah screamed in a blind panic.

The zombie wasn't even making that convincing of a groan sound. The kid screamed when the others screamed.

"Maybe the password to step 17 is on the ceiling," said Monica, flying up to the ceiling to check.

"I - I don't think it's up there?" said Sam, finding the key in the atomic bomb ignition and handing it to Joaquín, "This is supposed to be for non-powered humans."

"You don't know that, Sam," said Sarah, getting the rubik's cube perfect, opening it to reveal the first letter in a word, Bucky tossing her the next letter from a puzzle box he just solved.

"Yeah, you don't know that," said Bucky, then saw that he was saying that to Sam, the only person he was originally going on this escape room date with, then corrected himself, "Or, you do. You're the smartest person I know and I love you very much."

"Good save," said Sam, finishing the word without needing to solve the other puzzles, handing Monica the passcode she was looking for.

"We only have five minutes left!" yelled Wong, everyone besides Sam screaming, Wong trying random numbers on the safe and getting a "Try again in a minute" sign flashing.

Sam and Bucky were going on this date alone. They were going to get out of training early and go on this date. And then everyone found out where the two of them were going and insisted they were good at escape rooms.

Sam should have said no to them all and left them at Sarah's house.

But he didn't.

Because they were his friends.

"You know, we could have finished this room in twenty minutes flat, right?" whispered Sam to Bucky, the two of them backing into the corner as the room devolved into Worst Timeline Community energy.

"I know," Bucky whispered back, wrapping his arms around Sam and kissing him on the cheek, "But look at how entertaining they are."

Sharon was ramming the wrong shapes into the wrong holes because "It has to be a trick, this is too simple" (it really was that simple).

Joaquín and Monica were trying to play an intricate song on the giant piano keypad they could walk on despite all evidence pointing to "Heart and Soul" being the song they needed (again, "too easy of an answer").

Wong somehow caught a book on fire and was currently freaking out the kid playing the zombie by putting it out with a portal inside a waterfall, salmon flopping to the ground as Wong desperately tried to throw the salmon back into the portal, partially flooding the room on his own.

Sarah... well, actually, Sarah was doing pretty well, but she seemed to be leaning more into chaos for chaos' sake rather than not knowing the answer to the Where's Waldo? in a post-apocalyptic wasteland painting.

Sam grinned.

"Okay, this is entertaining," Sam said, watching the clock tick 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Bucky joining the group as they all screamed, the alarms going off as the nukes launched, the zombie that was supposed to run loose and scare them getting scared by all the heroes freaking out, Sam cackling at the scene.

Okay.

This had been a pretty fun date.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Want to choose a date for Sam and Bucky to go on during this special February Daily SamBucky Fluff Diary event? Check out the prompts here and send me an ask! I’ll write you a drabble as one of my Daily SamBucky Fluff Diaries!

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 8

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 8

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1416

Summary: A dream starts to change the reader’s perspective on her life with Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           It took weeks but the physical touch you’d gotten so used to came back one handhold at a time until finally it seemed like maybe Sam had made peace with The Sledding Incident. You never forced it, didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to push him away. Waiting felt like starving with a ten course meal on a silver platter in front of you, but it paid off. Whether he realized he was rewarding you or not, the space to let Sam process was met with absentminded hands slipped around your waist at the grocery store, non-secrets hummed into the skin of your jaw and neck as you stood just barely too close, loose pieces of hair tucked behind your ear when you washed glasses at the bar. The positive reinforcement limited the clinging you’d been doing since you’d first driven away from the bunker, knowing that the less you clawed at Sam for scraps of attachment the less he felt like you were in too deep to receive it.

           Repair by repair the cabin started to feel more like yours. The bathrooms got painted a faint baby blue that reminded you of long cloudless afternoons in Sioux Falls and Sam taught you some basic plumbing to fix the water pressure in the shower. It was only slightly less gross than you thought it would be, but Sam was so excited when you put the plumber’s joint caulk on perfectly that it made up for the limescale gunk under your nails. When you worked, Sam pretty much stopped playing podcasts and books, relying instead on an ever-changing kaleidoscope of music Dean would never have let anyone play in the Impala. Some of it you were pretty sure Sam didn’t even like, almost as if he was trying to learn a new culture by jumping in headfirst.

           You kept writing in your journal like you were sending letters back home to Dean from summer camp, giving little updates on the cabin or Sam or ridiculous drama you heard at the bar. At night you and Sam would talk about what should get fixed next and sometimes if you were feeling tough you’d watch Sam look up at the ceiling, hair splayed out on the pillow around him like a halo while he told a story about him and Dean growing up or times you’d been away from them on the road. Every once in a while you’d heard Dean’s perspective of the same event and would give them like a little gift to Sam. His eyes would go soft, hanging on your every word and letting his mouth quirk up a hair at the corners. You’d laugh together, often sadly but surprisingly sometimes not, winding into the crook under his arm and playing the tapes of the memories in your head.

           More and more frequently, you’d have good dreams—or rather, non-nightmares. Dean would get hurt and survive or you’d all be on a job together. Right before you woke up he’d be just about to say something important, warn you of something serious but couldn’t spit it out fast enough. It was frustrating, but so much nicer than waking up on soaked pillows that you just put it in a letter to Dean and tried to move on with your daytime projects and nighttime bar work. Some days it felt like you were going to be okay and then the next you’d be impaled on grief so hard you couldn’t even breathe around it. And yet, always Sam to tie yourself to and slide into the next day.

           It’s cold but bright, the sunlight reflecting and magnifying itself on the snow blanketing the landscape. Salt crunches under the tires of the Impala, just barely louder than the engine and enough to be aware of through a ZZ Top tape. You’re almost on the edge of drifting asleep on the windowsill when Dean grabs your arm.

           “Hey, come on, you can’t leave me.”

           The urgency in his tone jolts you alert. “Why? What��s going on?”

           “I don’t know how much time I have left. There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

           “We haven’t even picked up Sam yet,” you answer, in the self-assuredness of dream logic. “How bad could it be?”

           “It’s me, baby. It’s really me. Dead, everything, the works. I need you to focus, I don’t know how long I can stay.”

           Some small sub-sub-conscious part of your mind jolts to attention. It feels honest, or at least the closest to honest as you had wanted to be in a while. You let yourself indulge it.

           “You, like—really? It’s really…?”

           “Yeah, it’s me. I—I don’t know how to—” and you stop him with a furtive kiss, all hunger and no grace, just wanting to feel what it was like to be against him again.

           Dean swerves a little when his eyes open, momentarily dazed. “Christ, I forgot how good that was.”

           “I don’t—how are you…?” you murmur, having a hard time not only with the information but also with the juxtaposition of your conscious and subconscious knowledge.

           “No bullshit, I’m communicating beyond the grave. Don’t tell Miss Cleo,” he answers, the smirk twisting your stomach like a wrench.

           “Are you okay? If this is what it’s like to be dead then Sam and I will be here the second I wake up, we’ll just come to you—"

           “Babe, I wish you could but it doesn’t work like that. It’s not even really supposed to work like this but Cass is pulling some strings. I only have until your subconscious realizes what’s going on and kicks me out.”

           “What? How?”

           “The separation between living and dead is a little bit thinner when you’re asleep. It’s actually pretty cool but it’s going to take a while to explain.”

           “Okay, right, got to be fast. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

           “I miss you too, kid. More than I can explain. But listen, baby, I’m so proud of you for making it this far. It’s going to be okay, I promise. Sam will take care of you, and I know you’re taking care of him the best you can. I don’t know how long I have until you wake up. I’ll keep trying again to come to you, but until the next time I get to see you, my firecracker, you’re so tough. You can do a lot worse than Sam, and I would never, ever hold it against either of you. I’ve been trying to send that—been trying to ram my head through this fucking door about a hundred times by now actually—but if it hasn’t been coming through strongly enough, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what the fuck I’d be doing if it had been one of you—probably would’ve drunk myself to death by now to be honest—so the fact that you’re so worried about whether necking is going to raise my soul from the depths is actually sorta sweet. Love is complicated and the lines get blurred; I get it, especially now with some damned perspective. As long as I’m still going to be your guy when you get here, that’s all that matters to me. You’re it for me, kid.” He traces a light finger down the side of your cheek and it sends an ache straight into your stomach, makes him look lost for a beat as he takes you in.

           “Dean, I love you. I can't—I can’t even tell you how much I love you. I never got to say thank you for all the things you—”

           “Hey,” he says, grabbing your chin and holding you still to flick his gaze between your eyes. “I know. There’s no time. You don’t have to say that to me, I know. I always knew. I’m going to try to get to Sam too, but he’s—the angels are shocked at the shit that’s happening in his brain. Makes sense, you know, after everything he’s gone through, but I guess it makes it harder to slip through the cracks. But here: if I can’t do this again; if this is the last time I talk to you until you get back to me, I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you no matter what. The two people I love most in the world being together could never be bad to me, and I will alway—”

           And you woke up.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 9

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[kickingitwithkirk]

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter​​​​ #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~ 

I chant this mantra over and over to myself. 

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible. 

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well. 

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love. 

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over. 

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat. 

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do. 

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking. 

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok. 

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep. 

“Balls!” 

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water. 

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch. 

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night. 

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me. 

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me. 

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in. 

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching. 

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light. 

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear. 

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby. 

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound. 

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us. 

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx​​​​

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid​​​​

[holylulusworld]

Ketch me if you can...

Summary: Dean ignores your presence. What happens when a certain British guy tries to get your attention?

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Arthur Ketch x Reader?

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, unrequited love, flirting, cocky Ketch, jealousy, arguments

There is something about this man, this hunter making your heart race. You’ve got no clue if it’s the way he carries himself or the angry expression whenever his eyes land on you but, he gets under your skin. 

Every. Fucking. Time.

While you are busy watching Dean, the man you are supposed to hate, flirt with a random girl, someone has his eyes set on you.

“You know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” the British guy Sam and Dean seem to trust nowadays smirks, giving you a taste of his non-existent charm. “We could have a private conversation at my suite.”

“Listen, Mr. Important from Great Britain,” you pry your eyes off the scene in front of you to face the ‘hunter’ Sam wanted you to meet. “I got no clue what you mean with getting over someone but for sure I will not get under you.”

Sam snickers at your words, not hiding he was spying on you and their new ‘partner’. You always were better at reading people, so Sam wanted you to check on Ketch before they get involved even more with the British Men of Letters.

“Your loss, Y/N,” Ketch leans closer, smiling wildly as Dean’s eyes drift toward you.

The hunter does not pay attention to the girl any longer, rather watches Ketch hit on you with angry eyes. His jaw ticks and if he clenches his teeth a bit harder he might need to see a dentist.

“A woman never complaint about leaving my room unsatisfied.”

“I bet they all had a vibrator ready,” it’s your turn to smirk and Ketch, well he snickers at your comment. “I know you try to test my boundaries, just leave it, okay. I’m not fucking hunters; I’m not collaborating with them nor do I fall in love. Sam asked me to come here and listen to your organization's offer, nothing else.”

“Tough words from a tough hunter,” Ketch raises his glass, turning his attention toward business again. “We offer the newest technology, our help in any department, and all we want is your loyalty towards the Men of Letters,” you nod turning around to lean your back against the counter.

“Loyalty is a problem among hunters, you know. One day they tell you about all the things you could have,” your eyes drift toward Dean when you scoff at the hunter's angry expression, “and the other day you find out you were just…convenient.”

“Figures,” Ketch nods, watching Dean ball his hands into fists. “Those American hunters seem to be a bunch of unorganized, uninformed, and stubborn hillbillies…”

“Whoa, I didn’t say all of them are idiots, okay. Sam, over there is smart, loyal, and a hell of a fighter. I mean, he defeated Lucifer himself, dude,” you fist Ketch’s tie, twirling it around your hand. “I meant someone specific whose name I refuse to use.”

“Winchester, Dean. Born January 24th, 1979. First sexual contact with you around six years ago. He seduced you to become his hunting and sex partner until Sam Winchester came back. Two weeks later he called things off, provoked a fight and you left, never looking back,” your mouth hangs open when Ketch tells you they were watching you and the other hunters for years.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you have a camera in that motel room and filmed me having sex with that idiot?” Furious you fist Ketch’s tie, missing the way Dean storms toward you and said man.

Dean missed you yelled at Ketch only saw you tugged at his tie to bring the taller man down to your eye level. To the hunter, it seemed you wanted to kiss Ketch.

“Hands off,” Dean barks, puffing his chest. “We invited you here to get to know more hunter, a huntress to be specific, not to get your hands on her,” now Dean shoves you behind his back, ready to attack Ketch.

“What the fuck, Winchester! I wanted to mop the floor with Ketch!” Scrunching up his nose Dean turns around. Lips pursed; he shakes his head. 

“You will not do anything with that guy. No making out, flirting or mop anything with him,” you snicker, watching Dean’s chest heaves up and down.

“Mop the floor is not a term for sex, Winchester. It means I want to mop the floor with him, literally, you frustrating idiot. Now get out of my way and I’ll hurt that bastard,” you want to jump at Ketch who sidesteps your attack, smirking as Dean needs all his strength to hold you back.

“Lady, I will go back to my suite and have sweet dreams,” that bastard smirks again, looking at you in Dean’s arms. “If you want to act on your words…Ketch me if you can…”

“I hate stupid wordplays…I’ll scratch your eyes out! Freaking pervert! You can’t just stalk people and watch them have sex or worse!” You fight with tooth and nails, struggling against Dean’s strength until you give up, hanging limp in the hunter’s arms. “Why didn’t you let me hurt him? They were watching us for years. That asshole knew when we had sex…”

“Wait…what?” Sam nods but tries to stay out of your fight with Dean. “They watched us while we…you know…fondued?” Laughing Sam looks at his drink, while you snicker silently.

“Fucked, Dean…not fondued. Who says ‘fondued’? We had nasty and kinky sex, not cheese on bread or crap,” Dean chuckles, finally letting go of you. “I want to hurt his stiff ass.”

“Count me in, sweetheart,” the pet name let your stomach drop and you step away from Dean, shaking your head. “Y/N, wait…”

“I’m out of this, okay. Whatever they offered to you and Sam, I’m not interested, and you shouldn’t’ agree either,” looking at Dean you shrug. “My guts tell me someone stalking you for years can’t be trusted.”

“Y/N, they have resources we only can dream of. They have an army, knowledge, weapons,” Sam tries to argue but you huff, getting your silver knife out to ram it into the counter.

“I got weapons too, just like knowledge and resources. It’s about giving and take Sam, you know that. I help the guy trading me my weapons, he helps me. A priest blesses my water and blade for me, I protect his church. For those guys everything is about control, nothing else. But who am I to talk about making the right decision?” Huffing you look at Dean. “I let Dean Winchester break my heart after all, even though, I knew he would do so…”

You grasp for the knife, pulling it out of the counter. “Trust them or not, I’ll dodge this party, sorry…” Dean watches you walk out of the bar, a sinking feeling in his guts.

“What happened between the two of you?” Sam blinks when Dean tells him he used you back then to have someone besides his side.

“I needed a partner, she was willing to help. I messed up, end of story…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[ejzah]

A/N: A little drabble in anticipation of the super bowl. Even though I have no idea who’s playing or really watch.

***

Never Too Young

“That’s definitely your nose,” Deeks was saying as he looked down at something laid out on Kensi’s desk. She made a sound of semi-agreement.

“I guess. But those are your ears and look at those cute little lips,” Kensi added. “It looks like the baby’s pouting.”

“First ultrasound?” Sam guessed, watching them with amused fondness. At 16 weeks, Kensi wasn’t showing at all, but she and Deeks were fully in baby mode.

“Yup.” Deeks picked up the sonogram, holding it up so both Sam and Callen could see. “Who do you think Baby Deeks looks the most like?”

Callen stood up and bent over, squinting his eyes.

“Honestly, all I see is a couple blobs,” he said, tilting his head in various directions. “Or possibly a tiny dinosaur.”

“How dare you talk about your future niece or nephew in such a way,” Deeks gasped, unable to hold back a small grin. Shaking her head at them, Kensi snatched the picture back from Deeks and pointed to a spot.

“There’s the baby’s head and there’s and arm and leg. The doctor said the baby is doing really well.” She pressed her hand over her stomach and added, “And super active.”

“So you’re still planning on keeping the gender a surprise?” Sam asked

“I think so.” Deeks glanced to Kensi, reaching for her hand and she nodded in agreement.

“Either way we’re going to love our baby more than anything.” They’d actually discussed the topic several times in the last couple months. Since this would probably be their only pregnancy, Kensi wanted to experience the joy of finding out at birth.

“Well, since we’re on the topic, we got the little gremlin something,” Callen said, pulling something out of his drawer. He tossed it to Deeks, who caught the slim package with one hand. It was wrapped in plain dark blue paper with a no nonsense ribbon. Sam’s work if Deeks had to guess, especially with the perfect folds in the paper. They’d added a small card that simply said, from Uncle Sam and G.

“Thank you,” Kensi said, looking touched. “But you really didn’t have to get us or the baby anything.”

“Don’t thank them yet, we don’t know what’s inside,” Deeks warned her. Together they removed the many pieces of tape and then lifted the lid, revealing the tiniest football jersey Deeks had ever seen.

“Oh my goodness, this is adorable!” She brushed her fingers over the top of an equally tiny letter, then pressed her fingers over her mouth.

“We figured somebody needed to make sure the kid’s raised right,” Sam explained with a half smirk, his dimple showing. Pursing his lips, Deeks raised an eyebrow.

“I think we should be offended, but I’m just gonna stick with another thank you. Honestly though, this is great.”

“It’s not easy finding an actual Rams jersey that small,” Called added, grinning at Sam. “Although it was pretty amusing to see this guy explaining it at the gift shop.”

“It’s perfect,” Kensi decided.

“Baby Deeks definitely has the best, and craziest, uncles in the world.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (18/19)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Reign Storm, Part 4}

“Another day, another night of trying to catch as many ghosts as we can before curfew,” Tucker groaned as the trio made their way to Danny’s bedroom.

“At least we managed to hide the Ecto-Skeleton in the fold before Vlad could take it,” Sam said.

“Plus Val is keeping up the truce for now and Jazz is covering for us,” Danny added.

“Yeah, and how long until Val turns her weapons back on us or Jazz decides to stick her nose in our business?” Sam muttered.

Danny opened his door. “She -”

The three stared at the room that very much was not Danny’s room. They looked behind them to see the green sky of the Ghost Zone with gears floating through it. They were standing on an island that housed a tall tower in the shape of a grandfather clock.

“Uh…”

“We’re not going to get anything caught tonight, are we?” Tucker sighed.

Sam pushed past her partners and stomped into the tower. “Alright you stupid ghost kidnapper, what do you want?”

No one answered and the boys followed her further into the tower.

They kept an eye out for whatever ghost had teleported them there, but the only movement was coming from the spinning gears that were everywhere or the circular screens scattered about.

Danny’s eyes caught on three that were side by side and he gasped.

The first was labeled Future: Ten Years and showed a ghost in the form of a young woman. She had pale teal skin and white hair, though her hair was a white vapor that flowed around her head and shoulders. She wore a floor-length black dress that was slit on the right side high on her thigh. She also had a white belt, thigh-high high-heeled boots, and elbow-length gloves. Her dress had an S-logo on her skirt that looked like claw marks as well as a long white cape with a black lining. She was draped over a dead tree in what appeared to be a destroyed city like it was a throne, smirking as a military group fled from the bright green void rapidly growing beneath her with every similarly colored tear that dripped from her dark gold eyes.

“Is that…” Danny started and the two followed his gaze.

“Me?” Sam said.

“Why do you have Danny’s Spectral Void?” Tucker asked.

Danny pointed to the screen next to it.

This one was also labeled Future: Ten Years and featured a destroyed city, but a young man was the ghost featured. He had the same skin and hair color as the woman, but his hair appeared to be thick braids of dripping goo and his eyes were deep violet. He was shirtless and wore dark grey pants with white boots and a large white belt. On the belt was a black buckle with a white T-logo that appeared to be made of lightning. He also wore white bracers on his forearms and a cape to match the woman’s. Cackling, he watched his own military adversaries get pulverized by bright green vines.

“And that would be me with Sam’s Wraith Snare,” Tucker added as they turned to the final screen.

Once more a destroyed city was labeled Future: Ten Years. This time the ghost was flying around as he tossed tanks about and blasted them apart with a bright green sonic attack. He was also a young man with pale teal skin and white hair, though his was made of flames. His eyes were blood red and he had a small goatee. He wore a suit that was primarily black, but with a white pattern on the sleeves that continued down the side of his abdomen. He also had white boots and belt alongside black gloves and the same cape as the two before. On his chest was a wispy white D-logo.

“Which leaves Danny with my Ghostly Wail,” Tucker finished.

“We look so cool,” Danny muttered as he stared up at the screens. When his partners immediately turned to look at him, he quickly added, “Except for the whole being evil thing.”

Sam knocked her shoulder against the smaller boy’s and looked back at the screens. “This… They can’t be us.”

“They aren’t.”

The trio spun around to see a ghost floating behind them.

He at first looked like an old man, but as he spoke he faded into a young child. “At least, not in this life.”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked as the trio readied themselves for a fight.

Instead, the ghost came over to float next to them, his eyes on the screens as he fiddled with the clock on his staff. “In these timelines, only one of you went into the portal in your parents’ lab.”

“Hold on, are you saying that if we hadn’t gone in together, we would have turned evil?” Sam said, eyes narrowed.

“Sometimes.” He hit a button on his staff and the screens changed.

Instead of lounging in a tree, Sam was defending a school bus from a giant hydra ghost. Her skin was a human tone only a few shades darker than her normal and her eyes were bright green. Her hair was the same as her evil version's, if longer, but her dress and cape had been replaced by black pants and a white crop top with bell sleeves. Green vines wove around her head in a crown of thorns.

Tucker was now facing off against what appeared to be a Skulker-Technus hybrid. His eyes were the same shade as Good Future Sam’s and his hair had remained the same as evil Tucker's while his skin was a darker human brown. His cape had been swapped out for a black muscle shirt and silver Egyptian-style necklace. Likewise, his bracers had been swapped out with silver vambraces with glittering green hieroglyphs engraved into them.

Good Future Danny was laughing as he dove around the attacks of a ghost that seemed to be composed entirely of the night sky except for a ram horn helmet. He also had skin similar to his human form’s and bright green eyes. His hair was shorter than his evil version’s had been, but just as fiery. His suit was now white with dark green diagonal designs. His boots, belt, and gloves were all black and he was the only one to still have a cape, though this one was made of white fur. There were also horns made of ice curling out of his hair.

“Sometimes you choose the right path,” the clock ghost said, aging up into an adult.

“I have horns!” Danny whispered.

“You’re getting way too into this,” Tucker said, nudging his side.

“Mind telling us why you brought us here?” Sam asked.

The ghost hummed and their evil versions took the screens again. “Individually, the three of you have the power to bring untold devastation to the Ghost Zone and wipe humanity from the face of the Earth.” He turned to them, fading back into an old man. “What do you think you could do together?”

The trio blanched and Sam shook her head. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“Wouldn’t it? Why not? It happens in other timelines.”

“So what? You brought us here to tell us we’re going to turn evil and destroy the world? Thanks. We’re leaving now.”

“I’ve brought you here to give you a warning,” the ghost said, focus completely on his staff and not the fuming halfa. He aged down to a child and continued, “Those who command me do not peer into the alternate times often and I have worked hard so that they should not see these, but that effort will not last forever. Should something not change, they will discover these chances and label you all too much of a risk. When that happens, I will be charged with the task of eliminating your future.”

“So you’re going to try to kill us in the future, good to know,” Sam said.

Tucker grabbed his partners as they both stepped forward to fight. “You said you were warning us, that something could change so you wouldn’t have to kill us. Could you tell us what that something is?”

He smirked.

The trio blinked and they were in Danny’s room.

“Is that a no?” Tucker asked.

“That ghost better not show his face again,” Sam huffed and tossed her backpack into the corner.

“Uh, guys,” Danny said and held up his hand.

Wrapped around his wrist was a watch he’d never seen before. It had a white square case and face with navy asteroids taking the place of the numbers and icy blue comets acting as hands. The band was white nylon with black constellations stitched in. On the watch’s crown, the letters W and C were interwoven together in navy.

“I think he left me a gift.”

His partners looked down to see similar watches on their own wrists.

Sam’s had a black ceramic band and case with a silver paint splatter design overtop. The face was round and violet with a silver spiderweb design that black spiders crawled across in the place of hands. The WC logo was also on its crown, in violet.

Tucker’s watch, unlike the other two’s, was digital. It had a silver rectangular face and case with white glowing numerals over a green old-school bezier screensaver. The band was grey silicone with white pixel hearts decorating it. The WC logo was on the button on the side in green.

Sam growled and tried to remove it, to no avail. There was no buckle and the band wouldn’t break. She could not phase through it or have it phase through her either. She transformed and while the watch didn’t leave, it did change.

The case was now a golden-brown and shaped like a gear. The face was black with traditional hands and numbers in electric blue. The WC logo was at the center of the face while the band was a dark metal.

It proved to be just as impossible to remove in this form and also appeared to be indestructible considering the small ecto-beam she shot at it did nothing.

The boys just watched her antics, though Danny did stop her from trying to shoot a larger beam at it (and therefore her arm) while Tucker transformed to see if his would change as well.

It matched hers perfectly in ghost form.

“He’s trying to turn us evil,” the two hissed.

“I really don’t think he is,” Danny said, rubbing Sam’s arms.

“It’s turning us evil.”

“You’re just upset.”

“We’re going to burn his tower to the ground. You know, he probably should have seen this coming if he can see into the future so he probably deserves it.”

“You’re not helping, Tuck.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Guess we’ve got some research to do now. On top of everything else we’ve still gotta do. To. The. Ground.”

{Identity Crisis, Part 1}

“What are you guys doing?” Jazz asked as she came into Danny’s room to see the trio curled up together on his bed with a book each.

“We finally caught all the ghosts that escaped,” Danny said. “Well, the ones worth catching at least.”

“Ones worth catching?”

“The ones who cause problems,” Tucker explained. “There are some ghosts we leave alone as long as they keep out of trouble. Like Poindexter’s cool and Johnny and Kitty are fine as long as they aren’t fighting with each other. We also made a deal with Ember since she got a gig at a bar downtown; as long as she doesn’t brainwash anyone she can stay.”

“There are also those that aren’t worth the time, like the Box Ghost,” Sam said. “We can leave him to your parents or Valerie.”

“Valerie doesn’t even bother with Boxy anymore,” Danny added.

“I think he’s got a job with a moving company now,” Tucker muttered. “Either that or they’re just using him as a mascot.”

“Anyways, we got everyone accounted for so we’ve got a ghost-free weekend to do some research on that clock ghost that kidnapped us,” Danny said.

Jazz frowned. “So the three of you are going to spend the whole weekend here, together, alone.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Until we find what we need to get these stupid watches off.”

She sighed and walked over to take their books.

“Hey!” they said together.

“You three need a break after the last couple weeks of insanity. That means no ghosts, no Doppelgänger, and most importantly, no each other.”

“What? Why?” they asked and she gave them a look.

“I kind of get the ghost part, but why no each other?” Danny asked.

“When was the last time you three spent more than twenty-four hours apart?”

“I went to some gala in California with my parents two weeks ago,” Sam said pointedly.

“And Tucker sent the whole weekend here playing video games. I’m asking about all three of you spending more than a day apart.”

The three frowned, staring at nothing.

Jazz gave them a moment, then nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

They shared a look.

“Well, the computer club was having a camp this weekend,” Tucker said.

“It’d be nice to spend the weekend with Val,” Danny offered.

“There is a sale at Skulk and Lurk this weekend,” Sam sighed.

“There you go then.” Jazz dropped the books onto Danny’s desk and pointed to the door. “Out.”

“You know, you’re his sister, not ours,” Sam muttered, but she and Tucker said their goodbyes and left.

Danny threw a pillow at his sister and grabbed his phone. “Why are you so bossy?”

“It’s not healthy to spend so much time around your partners. Especially considering your interwoven minds. It won’t hurt you to be apart now and then.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get out so I can text Val.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, it’s Tucker, right?”

Tucker looked up to see a freshman he vaguely recognized standing over him. “Uh, yeah. You’re… Kira?”

“Kiran. Kiran Rizvi.”

“Right, sorry.” Tucker held his hand out to shake and looked over the freshman.

They were cute. Androdygenous, if leaning masculine, with rich brown skin. They looked like they were on the thinner side, but it was hard to tell with their baggy yellow hoodie. They had short black hair and a round face with bright green eyes.

Tucker put on a flirty smile, even as they ignored his hand and put their own on their chest. “Tucker Foley. So, you’re into computers then, Kiran?”

They shrugged and sat down next to him. “I’m more into computer games, but I wanted to learn how to build my own PC so I’ve been learning all I can. The computer I’ve got lags constantly, but I don’t have the money to buy a gaming PC.”

“Who does?” Tucker snorted. Well, Sam did, but even she knew the benefits of building over buying. “My partner introduced me to this company that’s got quality gear at good prices. Doomed never ran so smooth!”

“You play Doomed too? Did you see the new expansion pass?” Kiran said excitedly.

“The Netherworlds or the expanded Pride Armor selection?”

“I was talking about the Netherworlds but oh my gosh, the Pride Armor pack was great! Even if the stealth aspects are absolutely awful.”

“If there’s ever a reason to wish to be ace, it's when you’re running around in neon yellow, pink, and blue,” Tucker sighed.

“That sucks. At least my armor’s got some black and purple in it to balance out the yellow and white,” they chuckled and Tucker swooned.

Wow, they’re pretty when they laugh.

“Have you seen some of the designs online people have done for stealth versions of the armor?”

“Wh-Oh, yeah,” Tucker said, snapping himself out of it. “Yeah, my partner posted some she did of the Ace-Spec gear on her blog. I’ve been trying to work it into a mod for her for her birthday.”

“No way! Can I see?” they asked, leaning closer, and Tucker smiled.

“Yeah, sure.” He turned back to his laptop and tried to bring up the file, but it slowed down as he tried. “Crud, right, I forgot I was in the middle of fixing that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This is my old one. I’ve been trying to fix it up to sell. Everything seems okay. I think there’s just some excess data in the cache slowing it down. I was just about to empty it when you came up.” He started the process then pulled out his phone to bring up the designs he was working on.

“There’s pizza in the other room,” the computer teacher, Mr. Göbel, called as he poked his head into the classroom.

Tucker and Kiran joined the rest of the club heading out of the room as Kiran looked over the designs and begged Tucker to send them the mod when he finished it.

A few moments later, an abandoned laptop began to glow before flying out the window.

[keanan1501]

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels  something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was  a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Stranger

I Know You

Summary - After that evening, the freckled face of that man was engraved in your memory. You hoped that you would meet him again and you do but not all meetings are pleasant - some reveal the dark secrets of life.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning - Fluff, Angst (a lot of angst), swearing, 18+ SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people)

Square filled - Showering together (implied) ( @spndeanbingo )

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - This is the second part of the series Stranger (my brain hates oneshots). Prepare for the slow burn people.

The dividers are by @talesmaniac89 and the banner is by me.

A/N - This is the first time I have ever written smut. I have tried my best lol. Also thanks to @bucky--barnes because her fic Innuendos helped me a lot to write the smut part. There are certain parts in the smut that irked me a little while writing so I decided not to include those but maybe in the future I can write about those (I'm very new to this whole thing).

Okay enough of nervous rambling, just go ahead and read it!

“This is the last time I'm warning you! Step away from the cake,” you yelled making your husband jump and drop the piece of the cake, “what did you do?”

“You shoufn’t haf yellt,” he spoke with his mouth full.

“Get. Out. Now,” you seethed as you examined the destroyed piece.

“I like it when you get all bossy,” he goes to grab your waist but you successfully dodge his hands. “Y/N,” he pouted.

“Those eyes won't work on me Mister,” you raised your eyebrow, “and I need to clean up the kitchen because your dumbass acted like a child.”

“I didn't.” He grumbled.

“Leave the kitchen now. Go check on your demon spawn,” you said.

“Hey, he's half yours.” He argued.

“He got all your bad qualities,” you smirked. Dean stared up at you with his green eyes and said, “maybe our baby girl will get your bad qualities,” he caressed your still flat stomach.

“How do you know it's a girl?”

“Father's instinct,” he said.

“That's called mother instinct-”

“So fathers can't have instinct?” He grinned.

“That's not what I meant, you fool,” you said.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked, “So you think-”

“Mommy, Daddy,” Jaxon, your three year old came running into the kitchen with Scooby hot on his heels.

“What's up kiddo?” Dean turned and picked up the little boy in his arms. Scooby whined and nuzzled his face into Dean's legs, trying to get his attention. “You're not forgotten, buddy,” he started to pet the German Shepherd.

“Cake,” Jaxcon said and hid his face in the crook of his father's neck.

“Bad qualities,” you threw a look at him and saw him shrugging.

“We have to wait for Grandma and Grandpa to arrive sweetie, then you can eat it,” you said.

“Okay,” he pouted.

“Come on Y/N, give him one piece,” Dean said.

“Don't encourage our son. If he gets a sugar rush, you have to deal with him,” you shook your head at your husband.

“Scout’s honour,” he grinned, as you cut up a piece of the cake.

Dean put the little boy down into a chair, when he started wriggling in his arms. Jaxcon immediately dug into the sugar factory as soon as you handed him the plate. You walked out of the room to check on the other preparations, as Dean kept a close eye on the boy, his hands occasionally petting the dog and scratching his ears.

Life was good. After that night at the bar, you had met Dean again. You were having a bad day - you had just handed the resignation letter to your pervert boss and walked out of your office, when you had bumped into him on the streets.

“I feel like you are my guardian angel who just pops up whenever I have a bad day,” you had laughed.

“Maybe it's a sign from the universe for us to be together,” he had said, a big grin plastered on his face, “let me take you out on a dinner. You won't have another bad day.”

You had agreed and one thing led to another and here you were now married to him with a child and another one on the way, organising a family gathering to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of your parents.

“Hey babe, I think your parents are here,” Dean called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah got it,” you shouted back.

“Hey Mom, Dad, happy anniversary,” you greeted as you opened the door.

“Thanks sweetie,” your Dad leaned into giving a peck on your cheek.

“Mr and Mrs. L/N,” Dean greeted, “thirty years huh? Happy Anniversary. Come on in. Your daughter has made some delicious food items.”

“Dean,” you chided but couldn't stop the smile that was threatening to spread over your face.

“Soon you will be celebrating your thirtieth anniversary. Time flies when you are with the right person,” your Dad said and you knew your Dad was right.

So yeah, life was good.

“It looks like a freaking djinn,” Dean said, clutching the steering wheel tightly as he drove back to your town. He gritted his teeth in anticipation, as he focused on the road ahead.

“Dean you need to slow down or else we'll be dead even before we reach the town,” Sam frowned, “maybe it's a Djinn, but I am sure that Y/N/N’s absolutely safe.”

The older hunter's jaw ticked as he tried to put a brake on his racing thoughts - why did he always have to think of the worst?

After another hour of driving, Dean pulled up his car in front of a house. Jumping out of it, he jogged up the stairs and knocked on the door waiting for a reply.

“Dean stop! Maybe she is at work,” Sam intervened before his brother kicked down the door.

“No. She is in a huge ass danger. I can feel it Sammy,” Dean said, gripping his brother's shoulder tightly.

“You need to focus, Dean. I don't think you freaking out will help us at all. We need to treat this as any other case,” Sam said, “maybe Y/N’s safe after all.”

Nodding his head, Dean went back to his car, Sam following closely. They drove over to the nearest motel. Within a few minutes, they had switched to their fed suits and started going over the case and the alibi of the witness.

“Man with tattoos appeared out of nowhere. Bingo!” Dean exclaimed, “I told it seemed like a case of the tattooed suckers.”

The Winchesters started working rapidly - from interviewing the witness to finding out the locations of abandoned warehouses and buildings in the town.

“Uh….Dean. I think this might be the location where the Djinn is tak-”

Sam’s words were interrupted by the shrill ringtone of Dean’s phone.

“Agent Shaw speaking,” Dean said, “another missing report?....Name?” Sam saw his brother's eyes widened with fear and anger, as he continued to speak with the person over the phone.

“Thanks for letting us know,” He said and disconnected the call.

“There has been another report filed, another person has gone missing. Her name is Y/N L/N,” Dean breathed out, “I am gonna kill every one of those sons of bitches.”

“Mhm,” you groaned, as you were woken up from your deep slumber to your husband peppering kisses all over your face.

You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with his forest green ones. Pulling you close, he captured your lips in a sensual kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his teeth slightly grazed your lip. Without letting go of your lips, his hands started to work on the buttons of the flannel which actually belonged to Dean, unbuttoning it successfully and you laid there in just your panties.

“De-” you whimpered as he started to leave a trail of kisses down your bare body. His calloused hands massaged your breasts, his sinful mouth started to suck at the sweet spot on your neck, eliciting a sweet moan from your mouth.

“That's gonna leave a mark. Gonna let the world know you're mine,” he growled into your ears, his voice making you shiver with anticipation. As his fingers worked on your already hardened nipples, his mouth slowly moved south.

Spreading your legs apart, you felt his hot breath at your clothed, wet core. “N-need you,” you breathed as you felt him starting to kiss your inner thighs.

“Mhm, so fucking wet already,” he mumbled, as he swiftly ripped off your damp panties.

“Dean, p-please,” you whined.

“Please what?” He gave you a cocky grin, his fingers brushing past your sensitive clit.

“Either fuck me or put your magic fingers to use,” you pouted which immediately turned into a gasp as he put a finger inside you. He started to pump at a slow pace. Your back arched in ecstasy as he picked up the pace. He put another finger, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the bedsheet tightly. He curled his fingers inside you and kept pumping at a quick pace, brushing your g-spot over and over again.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, as your hand left the bedsheet, to tug at Dean’s hair, entangling your fingers with the short, soft strands, making him groan.

“De, g-gonna c-co-” you whimpered.

“Then let it go, sweetheart,” he rasped and that's all it took as your body shook with pleasure, you came hard on his fingers. Dean moved up to you as you panted, your mind and body in a euphoric state. He pecked your lips lightly as you tugged at his boxer’s band but he lightly swatted your hands away, “so impatient.” You noticed the sizable bulge in his boxers. He grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure as you palmed his cock through the soft material of his boxers.

He pulled down his boxers, his hardened length sprung free. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few strokes.

“Nuh-uh,” he groaned pushing your hands away. “I won't last long i-if you do that a-and I wanna be inside you.” You let go of him, giving into his plea.

He kissed you once again as he lined himself in front of your entrance. “Fuck,” you gasped, your eyes fluttering close as he pushed himself inside you.

“Shit sweetheart,” he groaned, “not gonna last long.”

“Mhm,” you moaned, failing to form any coherent sentence, “m-move.” Dean obliged, slowly pulling out of you till only his tip was inside you. He kept thrusting into you, “s-shit, baby.” You jerked your hip forward, trying to meet his pace. He quickened his pace as he roughly kissed you. He continued to ram into you, his cock brushing your g-spot every time, making you moan out loud. His hands travelled all over your body. He let out a breathy moan as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Gonna c-come,” you whimpered, your pussy clenching around him.

“Let go baby,” his thrusts became a little sloppy, as Dean inched towards his climax. Your hands gripped tightly onto his biceps, as his fingers entangled with your hair.

“Fuck Dean!” You cried out as the coil inside you snapped and you felt yourself coming undone, “fuck!”

Dean thrusted into you a few more times before he let out a guttural moan, his seed spilling inside you, coating your walls. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, his face hiding in the crook of your neck as he collapsed on top of you. Panting, Dean pulled out of you, as he rolled to the other side of the bed. You both laid in bed, as you pulled the covers up to cover your modesty.

“Morning,” you smiled.

“Morning,” he whispered, pecking your cheeks, “I'm gonna go and get a shower. Join me.”

“No funny business. You have work and you are already running late,” you warned, “and the kiddos are up.”

“Scouts honour,” he said as he walked into the bathroom in all his naked glory. You removed the covers and climbed out of the bed to go to the bathroom.

“Y/N,” you stopped in your tracks as you heard a voice calling your name.

“Dean? Did you call me?”

“Nope.” Your husband replied from the bathroom. You shrugged off the feeling and went into the bathroom, joining your husband. Needless to say, you guys didn't make it out of the bathroom in time.

“We already have a ten months old and a five year old. Don't you think you should tame your libido?” You said, while feeding your daughter.

“I can't keep it in my pants with you walking around me,” Dean said, “sooner or later, I will put another baby in you.”

“Daddy!” Jaxcon exclaimed as Dean leaned in to kiss you.

“What?” He groaned making you chuckle.

“I will be late for school! Hurry!” The son urged.

“Who gets so excited for school? He is a nerd like you!” Dean said and walked over to his son not before he had kissed you. “Take one to know one. Go or your boss will kick you out!”

Ava, your ten months old, babbled as she waved at her father. “Oh look, your baby girl says bye,” you said, catching your husband's attention.

“Bye Ava,” Dean waved back as he followed your son out of the door. This was your daily morning routine.

“Y/N, sweetheart, wake up,” you heard the voice again but no one was in the house anymore except your daughter who could hardly form complete words.

“Who is it?” You called out in the empty house.

“Y/N, sweetheart wake up,” Dean said to your unconscious figure lying on the ground. Exhausted, injured, Dean desperately tried to wake you up. Tears pricked at his eyes, as guilt ridden thoughts made their way into his mind. Two lifeless bodies of the djinns laid on the ground beside you.

“Sammy, she's not waking up,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Let's take her back to the bunker. I already gave her the antidote. If she doesn't wake up, maybe we can look through the archives of the British Men Of Letters,” Sam grunted as he stood up. They both were beaten up but none of them suffered any life threatening injuries. Dean picked you up in bridal style, as he made his way towards his car. Sam joined you and Dean after he was done burning the bodies.

The drive back to the bunker was tense. Sam was in the driver's seat as Dean was in the backseat with your head resting peacefully in his lap. He caressed your face, removing a few loose strands of hair, as he waited for you to wake up with bated breath.

“What if the antidote doesn't work?” Dean asked, worry evident on his face.

“You remember what happened with Charlie?” Sam asked, “we have to use African Dream Root to wake her up. We have to invade her dreams.”

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 3538

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: Violence, assault, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.

A/N: This series has been rattling around in my head for a while. It would never have made it to the light of day if it was not for my beautiful group of friends with whom none of this would be possible! You know who you are and I love you all!

Thank you to my beta @winchest09​​ without her none of this would be possible. If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

“Weird,” Y/N huffed looking out the front window of her Main Street photography studio, “Photos That Rock”. That same black muscle car has passed by her shop window at least five times today. She feels like she should recognize it, but it is just out of reach. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail she began to straighten up around the studio. Last night was a late night, then tossing and turning all night thinking about Mr. Tall, Dark and Plaid. It was an early morning today with a full schedule of studio time and then she was set to go back to The Zoo for Blues night. “Thank God it’s Friday!” she thought.

Tomorrow she opens at 11:00 and only for a few hours. During the summer, the hours are reduced with people being on vacation or just busy. The last thing they want to do on a Saturday is to come in and have their picture taken. She had editing to do, but she could do that on her laptop at home barefooted, wearing shorts and a T shirt.

Y/N locked the door as she flipped the closed sign around. Walking to the back of the studio she grabbed her garment bag off the hook and proceeded to change clothes. She didn’t have time to go back to her house. Besides, once she went home, she wasn’t leaving.  Finding that charming little 2-bedroom bungalow was a blessing. 

Thinking back, she remembered driving around quaint little neighborhoods when Y/N saw the “For Sale” sign being put out. She pulled her black Jeep over to the side of the road and jumped out, clad in jean capris, her favorite white sneakers with a black  ZZ Top “Tres Hombres” mugshot picture on the front, hair in a ponytail and large sunglasses adorning her face.

 “Excuse me,” she said politely, as she approached the elderly woman trying to pound a sign into the hard dirt of the front yard. “May I ask you about the house?”

The old woman peered at her over her glasses. “Ya by yourself?” she almost shouted.

 “Yes ma’am.” Y/N smiled.

“Ya like strong coffee?” she questioned again, “it’s the only kind of coffee I make,” she mumbled. Y/N nodded her head agreeably.

“Well, come on then, come in and look at the house. You can have a cup of coffee with me and I’ll tell ya about it.” Y/N followed behind the slowly shuffling woman with slide slippers and a faded blue house dress.

Within 2 hours, Y/N learned that Hazel had lived in this house her entire married life. Her husband Everett built it when he returned from the Pacific after WWII. The house was a little run down she explained because she had a hard time taking care of things after Everett died 18 months ago. Hazel was ready to move into the senior apartments where all her “widow friends” live. By Y/N's second cup of coffee, she and Hazel agreed on a price and that Y/N could have the house in a month. They agreed to meet at the lawyers in town the following Monday. She had a bounce in her step as she returned to her Jeep after hugging Hazel goodbye. Her step stuttered as a somber smile pulled at her mouth. “This was the first good thing she could use her parent’s life insurance for.”  

Y/N shook her head to clear her mind of the past. Glancing at the clock she noticed that she needed to be at the bar in 30 minutes and it was 15 minutes away. She quickly stripped off her T-shirt and jeans and shimmied into her black leggings and pulled on her knee high, 5-inch heeled boots. Pulling her grey sleeveless flowing top over her head, tugging it down, it skimmed right at her mid-thigh. Focusing on her reflection, she quickly touched up her makeup and added lipstick. Yanking out the hairband, she returned it to her wrist, finger combing her hair.

“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get today,” she said to herself. Turning around, she grabbed her backpack and keys and ran out the back door to her Jeep, praying she didn’t hit traffic.

The Jeep careened into the parking lot of The Zoo, throwing gravel as “My Kinda Party” by Jason Aldean blaring from the speakers. She made it with 5 minutes to spare. The bar was busy already, so she had to park on the far end of the lot. She grabbed her backpack off the seat and sprinted to the front door just as it swung open.

Stepping inside it was apparent it was going to be a different kind of night. The place was packed just about shoulder to shoulder. People weren’t here to dance, they were here to have a few beers and listen to great Blues music. Y/N snaked along the edge of the crowd to the bar, carefully removed her camera from the bag and handed the backpack to Travis. Surveying the crowd she knew she would get the best pictures by positioning herself on the edge of the stage.

Painstakingly she made her way to the front as the band rambled out. . She motioned to one of the members to confirm she would not be a distraction and he gestured for her to join them while grinning at her. “Make sure you get my good side.”

As they began to jam, the crowd surged forward and Y/N was glad she wasn’t on the floor tonight. She focused on the band and the front of the crowd for their first set, capturing ecstatic faces as the music rose and fell. After a hasty break the band began their second set with “Got My Mojo Working” by Muddy Waters. Y/N steadied herself on the side of the stage and began to scan the bar through her lens, capturing bits and pieces of the enthusiastic and eclectic crowd. The camera halted at 2 men that didn’t belong. They were leaning against the back wall with their arms crossed in front of their chest. They were tall and seem to tower above the crowd. Even this far away they seem pasty and unkempt.  Y/N chucked to herself because one has a John Deere hat on and the other a Caterpillar hat, direct competitors. As she studied them, both snapped their heads up simultaneously. The look on their faces was so murderous that her stomach tightened, and she began to quake. Trying to settle herself her camera moved on instantly. As she wrapped up her shoot at the end of the night, she could still not shake the pit in her stomach.

She talked to the band for a few minutes as they were packing up their instruments and the crowd began to clear out. Jumping down off the stage, she went to the bar to gather her things.

“Thanks so much for tonight Y/N,” Travis pronounced handing her the backpack. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I’m good.” Y/N shook her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for the second blues show.”

Smiling, Travis toasted her with the glass he was polishing.

She hefted her backpack over her shoulder and with her head down, she headed outside.  En route to her parking spot, she observed a group of men congregating close to her Jeep. Slowing her pace she began eyeing them closely, spotting immediately the 2 men in ball caps that creeped her out earlier.  Giving them a wide berth she dug her keys out of her bag, kicking herself the whole time that she didn’t already have them in hand.

As she drew closer, the group began to watch her, making lewd remarks and vulgar gestures. She ran the rest of the way to her Jeep, jumped in, cranking the engine almost simultaneously. Y/N jammed it into reverse, throwing gravel, then ramming it into drive in one fluid motion, putting as much space between her and the group as possible. Her heart was thundering in her chest while her entire body began to quake. Her breaths came in short bursts as she propelled down the road, putting a few miles between her and the bar.  Y/N began to talk herself down, trying to remember her yoga breathing as she berated herself for thinking of yoga at a time like this.

Steering closer to her house she began to compose herself. As she pulled into her driveway, she put her Jeep in park resting her head on the steering wheel, breathing slowly, in and out. Yanking her keys out the ignition she threw them into her bag. Taking one last calming breath she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and got out, slamming the door behind her.

She had taken three steps when a vice like grip wrapped around her bicep swinging her around and slamming her against the side of the Jeep, hurling the bag out of her reach and knocking the wind out of her. Y/N was momentarily paralyzed, the disbelief so profound. A large hand gripped the back of her neck, pulled her away from the Jeep and crushed the side of her face into the driver’s side window.  He clenched her neck tighter as he pushed her face into the window. Tears are running down her face and she strains to hold in cries of pain and fear. She feels the weight of his chest press into her back, feeling his sticky hot breath on the side of her face.

“Did you think you could run?” he seethed. “Did you think we would not fucking find you?”

“W-W-What are you talking about?” Y/N choked out.

Spinning her around by her arm and tossing her back against the door, Y/N hit it like a ragdoll, sliding down the side of the vehicle as her fear incapacitated her mind and body. Looking up, she recognized her assailant from the bar with the John Deere hat. He gripped her by the throat, dragging her back up the Jeep. Y/N feet dangled off the ground, her right eye already swollen shut blood dripping from the side of her head and lip.

“Bitch, we’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he sneered. Y/N tried to shake her head back and forth.

“NO!” she struggled, “I don’t know you!”

He laughed as she tried to focus her one good eye. An index of faces flipping through her mind like a rolodex. He bent down, his fingers digging into her throat, leveling eye to eye with her.

“Oh, but we know you. You were supposed to be in the cabin with James and Diane. We should have been able to take care of all of you at once.” His mouth twisted, “Instead, we had to chase you ass across half the damn country.”

Uncontrollable tears were rolling down her face, blood pounding in her ears. The stranger straightened, his hand slightly loosening around her neck, feet still inches off the ground. “We usually like to play with our food,  but those fuckin’ Winchesters are in town. I’ve messed around enough.”

Y/N could not make sense of anything this lunatic was saying. He knew about her parents’ cabin?  He knew she was supposed to be there? Play with their food? Maybe she was blacking out from lack of oxygen. Winchesters?

She could feel herself weakening. She could hear screeching tires and yelling but it was so far away. She was opening her mouth to scream but only a raspy moan escaped. A look of panic crossed the strangers face. He looked at her, his features began to change. Sharp pointed teeth emerging from his gums. Y/N began to blink rapidly, attempting to process what she was seeing. She began to kick her legs in terror. Her brain was telling her what she was seeing was a hallucination, but her body was peaking at the fight or flight mode. The stranger's mouth was agape as a hiss left his throat. She stared at his mouth with what looked like hundreds of teeth made of needles

She opened her bloody lips to attempt to scream for the last time while looking into his eyes. His head completely disappeared, releasing his hold on her neck in which she crumpled into a heap on her driveway, gulping for air. She heard metal clattering on the cement and from her one working eye, saw a large hand grab the stranger’s body and toss it into the grass. In a flash, two strong hands grasped her shoulders and her flight kicked in. Thrashing around and trying to get away but he was holding on tight saying her name over and over, attempting to get through to her oxygen deprived brain. Shaking her shoulders as gently as he could, drawing his face closer to hers

“Y/N, Y/N look at me, just listen to my voice and look at me, look at my face.”

She peered up at him, the adrenalin beginning to dissipate as the tremors convulsed her body . She was trying to focus on what she saw but it was irrational. She felt like she was trying to put a puzzle together but none of the pieces fit. She squinted at his face and moved her lips to speak but nothing came out.  She stuck her tongue out trying to moisten her lips wincing as she swallowed. Trying again she croaked, “Hot Flannel Guy?”

Chuckling Dean gathered her to his chest, “That’s right, sweetheart, it’s me, Hot Flannel Guy.” He picked her up, as if she weighed nothing the uninjured side of her face rested against his chest and she could feel the rumble of laughter against her cheek. She closed her uninjured eye and tried to breathe deep. He smelled clean and woodsy with a hint of sweat. “A sexy smell for a hot man,” she thought. She remembered she had caught a hint of that same smell yesterday when they danced.

“Where are we going?” she whispered her head foggy, feeling so tired.  Dean started for her front door, Sammy not far behind. “We just need to get you in the house sweetheart”

“We only got three of them, the other two made it to the pickup and took off,” Sammy informed his brother, looking over his shoulder. 

“Damn it!” snapped Dean “We can’t fucking leave her here now.” 

Sam was juggling the machete, a bag and a first aid kit. “Let’s just get her in the house and then we can make a plan. It’s not like they are coming back tonight.”

Dean looked at Sam then at the front door. “Not to be a dick Sammy, but that door isn’t going to open itself.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. He looked at Y/N in Dean’s arms and immediately felt bad. “Right.” He dropped the armload of stuff behind him on the large front porch and opened the screen door. There was a keypad and a doorknob and sighed. “What’s the code?”

Dean carefully jostled Y/N in his arms. “Hey, Y/N?” he asked her softly, “we need to get in the house, what’s the code?” 

She had almost forgotten where she was, she hurt all over and could not stop trembling, but she was taking a small comfort in the feel of Dean’s arms around her. 

“Let me down,” she croaked, starting to struggle, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just let me down.”

Dean’s arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart, just tell Sam the code, we’ll get you in the house, THEN, I‘ll put you down.” She slumped back against him huffing 

“8675309,” she rasped in the best sing song voice she could. Dean threw his head back and laughed as Sam smirked. “Jenny’s number? Your code is Jenny’s number?”

“I couldn’t help it, it’s the only number I could always remember.”

Still chuckling Dean leaned against the house as Sam entered the code. He pushed off, his elbow hitting the doorbell just as the door swung open. Robert Plant’s voice wailed from inside the house.

“Hey, Hey Mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Y/N’s face. “Woah, Zeppelin? Seriously?”

One side of her mouth tilted up. “Nobody wants a boring doorbell.”

Sam shook his head as he gathered the things off the porch, holding the screen door with his foot so Dean could carry Y/N in the house. He was beginning to feel like he was stuck in some kind of kismet thing between those two.

As Dean entered her home, he looked around trying to figure out where to lay Y/N down.

“No way does a Dude live here.”

All the walls were white with dark grey trim. The furniture was white in the living room with grey throw pillows and a turquoise throw on the side of the couch. The floors looked like they were finished in a weathered grey tone and it opened up into the airy white and grey kitchen. Different sized vases filled with fresh daisies and framed black and white photographs were placed throughout the area. With all the white, one would think that it would feel sterile but something about it gave off a cozy, comfortable feeling, like a breath of fresh air.

Sam strode into the kitchen and placed his armful of gear on the kitchen Island. He turned to Dean pointing to the couch.

“Nope.” Dean shook his head and looked at Y/N, “no way Sammy, it’s too clean in here.”

Y/N began to wriggle in his arms. “Lemme down,” she whispered. He had held her in his arms for so long she began to feel embarrassed but Dean tightened his hold around her. “Shhhh,” he said looking around again.

“Dude!” she yelled, shocking all three of them. “PUT. ME. DOWN.”  Dean set her on her feet and her legs started to crumple from underneath her. He caught her again and hoisted her back up in his arms.

“Now what?” he ground out.

Sam pulled out one of the grey upholstered bar chairs from the kitchen island, “Put her here.”

 He opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Setting them on the island he walked over to the sink, tore some paper towels from the roll and saturated them with water.

Dean deposited her, none too delicately in the chair. Sam made his way back to her, walking around the island to stand next to Dean to face her. Her right eye was swollen shut and the right side of her top and bottom lip were busted covered in drying blood. As she looked up at her savior, they could see the purple handprint developing around her neck.  Looking directly into Dean’s steely green eyes, she visibly flinched at the barely contained anger. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she spoke quietly.

“Who are you?”

“Oh yeah, that,” Dean smiled. “I’m Dean and this,” he motioned towards the other man, “is my brother Sam.”

He raised his hand, “Hi.”

Y/N studied both of them. Her good eye ping ponging between them until she finally landed back on Dean expectantly raising her eyebrow with a grimace of pain.

“Winchester.” Both spoke at the same time.

She huffed out a breath. “Of course it is, that creepy dude said he couldn’t play with his food because of the fuckin’ Winchesters. But I think I must have imagined stuff from lack of oxygen or something because after that, it’s all a blur and isn’t rational.”

“Well,” Sam hedged, reaching for the wet paper towels, “why don’t we try to get your face cleaned up and you can maybe take a shower. After that we can explain it all to you.” He reached up to start to blot her battered face.

“Dude, I got this!” Dean hip checked him, knocking him off balance. Sam scowled at him. “Sammy, why don’t...you know…” he motioned with his head toward the front of the house, “handle that other thing we need to do.” Sam looked at him incredulously, sarcasm flowing. “Great, yeah I’ll take care of that right now.” Spinning around he headed out the door.  Dean knew he was going to hear about that later but he really didn’t give a damn. 

Turning his attention back to Y/N he grabbed the damp paper towels off the island counter and started to dab her face. Wincing she pulled back. “Dean,” she murmured 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he began reaching around lightly, holding the back of her head so she would stop drawing back. “I need you to hold still for me for just a few minutes so I can get you cleaned up.”

She reached up, grasping his hand, meeting his eyes. Her bottom lip began to tremble, tears shimmering. “Thank you,” she breathed, “thank you for saving my life.” 

He tenderly touched his forehead to hers. “I’m just glad we made it here on time.”

“Me too,” she choked out.

Chapter 4

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​@4fareader @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​ @clumsy-nerd104​ @sarahbaker2010​ @supernatural-love14​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ 

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1316

Monday, March 8, 2021

 Coming up on a year since the pandemic started. I hope you're all healthy and safe. I am hopeful that vaccines will be deployed widely and help us all feel less anxious. I am fortunate enough to be one of those people who is happy as a bug snug in a rug while self isolating. I do really miss my dear friends and family but hugs can wait until we're all vaccinated.

 My thanks to Doug for lending me these comic books to read.

 Batman Annual #5 - James Tynion IV (writer) James Stokoe (art) Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the origin of Clownhunter and it's not very original. If I had to pay $4.99 US I would have passed on this and lived with leaving a hole in my Batman collection. If you're not familiar with this new vigilante, he's an Asian teenager named Bao who decides he's going to kill the Joker and all of the villain's sycophants. The reason he becomes Clownhunter (and killer) is very mundane. I wish they could have come up with a new motivator. Maybe the philosophical discussion about what to do about the Joker might interest some fans but I found this story quite tedious. I also didn't like the way Bao and his parents were portrayed. Did they really have an Asian saying "Ah, so"? Yes they did on page 8. Shades of Charlie Chan, Batman. I was not offended, just disappointed.

 Batman/Catwoman #3 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I was thrilled to see the town of Port Orange, Florida mentioned on the first page. My pal Al lives there. It's also where Selina finally catches up with the Joker and does what Batman never did. I love this Black Label book taking familiar characters and treating them in a new and interesting way. Here's a future where Selina has survived her husband Bruce's death and their daughter Helena is the new Batwoman. Now I wait to see how mother and daughter deal with the Angel of Death.

 And now, more Future State books.

 Future State: Robin Eternal #2 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). The consequence of Tim Drake/Robin being dunked in Lazarus resin is that now he's immortal. Whoop-dee-doo. Not only is this a boring Robin beats up bad guys issue but the art lacked any logical perspective. This issue takes place on a train but you would think it's in a huge building based on the art. I know it's comic books but I hate when one doesn't make visual sense. I think that's just laziness.

 Future State: Kara Zor-El Superwoman #1 & #2 - Marguerite Bennett (writer) Marguerite Sauvage (art) Wes Abbott (letters). This 2-issue fairy tale was not meant for old farts like me and Doug. With it's soft pastel colours these books should have included glitter and bubblegum flavoured lip gloss. Maybe young tween girls will like this. The moral of this story is "no one is born wise".

 Future State: Dark Detective #3 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). There are not one but two Batmans in this issue. You've got Bruce in his new capeless costume but here he's wearing a trench coat to give that fluttering effect, and then there's the new guy in the Bat suit, cape and all. The "uh-oh" point of the story hits here when the bad guys discover where Bruce is hiding out. The Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) Grifter story concludes here too with a double cross and a whole lot more of Helena/Huntress. This is my favourite Future State book so far.

 Future State: Superman of Metropolis #1 & #2 - Sean Lewis (writer) John Timms (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). If you're wondering how a grown up Jonathan Kent takes over for his dad as Metropolis's protector then these two $5.99 US books will satisfy your curiosity. The villain of the story is an evolved Brainiac who is a big multi-mouthed ball now. Metropolis is shrunk ala the bottle city of Kandor, the citizens go nuts but Jon returns things back to normal in the end with the help of Kara/Supergirl. I don't know why Kara's a girl in this story and a woman elsewhere. Each issue has two back-ups so you get your money's worth. One features Mister Miracle and the other the Guardian. They are both dealing with bad things inside the bottled Metropolis. You won't miss much if you don't read them. The Mister Miracle story "The Metropolis Menagerie" is done my Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). The Guardian story is brought to you by Sean Lewis (writer) Cully Hamner & Michael Avon Oeming (art) Laura Martin (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). This one got me excited because a villain wants to throw Jimmy Olsen off of the Daily Planet building.

 Future State: Catwoman #2 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Read this to find out if Catwoman saves the lives of the people on the train. You will also find out if Bruce is freed from the bad guys. Talia Al-Ghul appearing is the deus ex machina in this story. I like the new Cheshire and Onomatopoeia is always fun.

 Future State: Superman: Worlds of War #2 - Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters). In "The Many Deaths of Superman" the Man of Steel fights in the arena of Warworld where Mongul resurrects him after every death match. It's the typical brutal battle scenes and super villain gloating. What's more compelling is an old newspaper story that Clark Kent wrote that inspired a young woman who travels to Smallville. I was totally confused by the three back-up stories featuring Mister Miracle, Midnighter and the Black Racer because they were not very good. I am a completist and have to finish what I start. I could have stopped reading after the $3.99 US main story in this bloated $7.99 US comic book  but my obsessive compulsive nature wouldn't let me. It's a character flaw I wish I could change.

 Future State: The Next Batman #1 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). All the teasers for this book hyped the fact that this Batman is black. You won't get the secret identity in this first issue but there are a bunch of likely candidates. Lucas Fox is a possibility but it's confusing because he's a bad guy in another Future State book. This is another $7.99 US book with back-ups. These are more coherent than the ones in Future State: Superman: Worlds of War.

Future State: Outsiders by Brandon Thomas (writer) Sumit Kumar (pencils) Sumit Kumar & Raul Fernandez (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Steve Wands (letters) gathers together some old Batman associates helping Gotham City citizens escape persecution by the Magistrates outside Gotham City's borders. Get it? It was nice seeing Katana in action.

Future State: Arkham Knights by Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) & Rob Leigh (letters) gathers together some of Batman's rogues gallery to fight the oppressive Magistrate. Two-Face, Mr. Zsasz, Dr. Phosphorus, Killer Croc and other ex-inmates of Arkham Asylum are being lead by an armoured Astrid Arkham. It's super villains being super heroes.

 Future State: The Next Batman #2 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). We learn the secret identity of the new caped Batman in this issue. It's Lucas Fox's brother. He has a brother? This also has three new back-up stories.

"Batgirls" is by Vita Ayala (writer) Aneke (art) Trish Mulvihill (colours) & Becca Carey (letters). Batgirl/Orphan Cassandra Cain gets locked up in the Magistrate Detention Facility where both good guys/white hats and bad guys/black coats are incarcerated. She got caught on purpose because her mission is to find Oracle and Batman and free them. She gets help from Spoiler who is queen of the inmates. In this reality Cass is way more articulate than she used to be. I didn't like that. I also didn't like that in the other Future State stories the Magistrate foot soldiers have a shoot to kill order for any masks that they encounter. Why are all of these masks alive? Anyways, this part ends with the white hats and black coats forming an alliance so Cass can get on with her mission.

"Gotham City Sirens: Ladies' Night Out" is by Paula Sevenbergen (writer) Rob Haynes (breakdowns) Emanuela Lupacchino (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) John Kalisz (colours) Becca Carey (letters). Catwoman and Poison Ivy spring a domestic droid named Dee Dee (get it?) from servitude and they have a night on the town at a bar. The bar is run by Sam Bradley and both super heroes and villains can imbibe in peace. Fans of Sex and the City may like this. Not a lot of drama until the last page when the joint is raided by Magistrate goons and major characters are shot.

 Future State: The Next Batman #3 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). This is the "uh-oh" moment in the story where the hero is felled by the villain. A wounded Batman is attacked by the murderer he's trying to bring to justice. I saw that coming.

I like the change with Black Lightning in the Outsiders back-up.

I like the art in the Arkham Knights back-up even though the dialogue is eye roll inducing.

 Future State: The Next Batman #4 - Jace/Batman lives, as if that was in any doubt. This story would have been a lot more interesting if Bruce/Batman was really dead. Even if the Future State line of comics dies out this Next Batman is a cop out. The Batgirls story ends with Cassandra/Orphan saving Barbara/Oracle and the Resistance gaining ground on the Magistrates. The Gotham City Sirens story ends with Catwoman and Poison Ivy helping the Resistance get an advantage in their war with the Cybers thanks to Dee Dee.

 I admit that I was sucked in by the hype for this mini. The Next Batman being black intrigued me. The story itself was meh and I would not have missed anything by not reading it. I was not engaged as a mature reader but I think someone in their teens might like all the stories in these four issues.

[inyourwildestdreamslove]

To Live Again

Ben x Reader

Soulmate AU

Not even death could keep you from your destiny. 

The world is silent as you gaze at the tombstones surrounding you, yet a haunting melody thrums in your ears. You have an idea, just the tiniest inkling of the concept you need, but it hasn’t fully formed yet. This is why you are leaning with your back against a tree, the world growing slowly darker around you. The concept for this photoshoot must be just right. It’s to be a darkly beautiful piece, haunting if you will, and the perfect place to capture such a wonderful sight is in a graveyard. The name of your Soulmate glows blue in the pale light as the moon peeks out from behind the clouds.

You sit a while longer, just thinking of all the possibilities and wondering fleetingly when you are going to meet ‘Ben.’ After about an hour, the chill in air is too much and you stand up to leave. You go to turn your flashlight on only to discover that the batteries are dead. You frown at your lack of luck but don’t think anything else of it as the moon is full and it will be easy to navigate your way back to your beat up old car.

You don’t think much of the dark as you make your way towards your car. However, you notice something glowing red off to the left. You contemplate just ignoring it, but something is telling you not to, especially when you notice the name on your arm glowing a deep red. You walk towards the tomestone and notice the name of your soulmate in glowing bold red letters. What is more startling is the man lying unconscious on the ground half in and half out of the grave. Your own name glowing a deep red on his own arm. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight and can’t believe the carnage that is left behind. Splintered wood is scattered everywhere and the cratered like hole looks like something burst up from the earth. The man lying on the ground seems to be okay, just unconscious from what you can tell.

“Well what do I do now!?” you exclaim more to yourself than the unconscious man in front of you.

You regard him warily before you take your foot and gently nudge him with it and jump back. When he doesn’t move you take a step closer and crouch down beside of him. You study him for a moment before you reach your hand out and nudge his shoulder.

“He’s dead isn’t he…” you groan to yourself.

After a moment's consideration, you steel yourself against your own fear and reach out. You put your fingers to his pulse point and you’re surprised to find a heartbeat.

“Oh… okay…well….shit. What do I do?”

You look around the empty graveyard with the hope that no one or someone would be there. Upon seeing no one anywhere near you, not that you really expected to… it’s a graveyard… at night…

“Where are Sam and Dean when you need them….?” you wonder aloud as you stare down at the man on the ground. Your soulmate.

“Oh shit… he’s my soulmate… My soulmate was buried alive?!”

You whip your head around to see the dates on the tombstone and your eyes widen at the dates.

“This can’t be...right?”

Your mind is reeling as you see that he’s been dead for almost ten years, and yet he looks like he’s around your age… He looks closer to 30 than he does to 20…

“Ok something weird is going on here… What kind of syfy movie is this? Any takers?”

You sigh at the silent grave yard around you and gaze down at the man below you. Your name is glowing a bright red on his forearm and regardless of how much you want to turn tails and run, you know you cannot abandon your soulmate to face whatever this is alone.

You brace yourself and bend down and grab his arms, pulling him out of his grave and onto the grass. With much effort you turn his body so that his back is on the ground. Picking up his arms you begin the daunting task of dragging his limp body towards your car. The feeling of his skin starting to gain warmth is not entirely unpleasant, but you aren’t sure how to deal with this situation. Somehow you haul him into the back seat of your car, with no help from him whatsoever. After you plop down into the drivers side you take a moment to catch your breath then start the engine.

As you are driving down the road you hear a groan from behind you and when you look in your rearview mirror you are surprised to see the man, Ben, sitting up in your back seat holding his head. You let out a screech and out of panic you jerk your car to the right, the car wheels hitting the side of road then the grass jolt you out of your panic enough for you to steer the car straight and come to a violent stop on the side of the road. You throw your car into park and whip around to see the man behind you.

“WHAT is going ON?!” you yell in a panic looking him dead in the eyes.

“You...You...can see me?” he asks just as panicked.

“Yes. Yes I can. Of course I can. What is going on?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m not going to hurt you! I’ll just go!”

You watch in shock as Ben turns and just rams himself straight into the door. His hand comes up and cradles his forehead in his hands and he groans in pain. Very suddenly his head shoots up out of his hand and he stares at the door like he’s never seen one before. His hand reaches out and he rests it against the glass, his other hand rests over his beating heart. If you weren’t prepared for the moment that he rammed into your back door, you definitely weren’t prepared for the moment that he burst into tears.  

“Oh!” you exclaim as you struggle to get out of the car, your forgotten seatbelt catching your chest and throwing you back into your car. You can feel your heart breaking for your soulmate, and regardless of how freaked out you are, you can feel him. You wrestle with the seat belt until you free yourself then hurtle yourself out of the car before you yank open the back door. He had been leaning against it in his emotional state and tumbles into your arms. You hear him gasp as he rests against you for a moment before his arms wrap around you. He clutches you as if you are the world and nothing else could ever even begin to matter. You rest your lips against the top of his head murmur soothing words into his hair. You feel your own eyes well up with unshed tears at the man in your arms.

“Ben? Ben… It’s okay…. I just need you to calm down okay?”

“How… How do you know my name?” he asks as he pulls back from you after a moment. His hands are still locked onto your form, as if you are an anchor holding him here.

You pull away from him just enough to show him his glowing name on your forearm.

“You’re…” he asks as he gazes at you as if you are an angel.

“I guess so….” you murmur as you avert your eyes from his.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out before jerking away from you and curling into himself. You’re stunned at the reaction, and a little hurt.

“Ben...Why are you sorry?” you ask softly.

He lets out a humorless laugh, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me…”

“Stuck? No…” say in confusion.

“You should stay away from me…” he says as he scoots farther away from you, back into your car and curls in on himself.

You’re left speechless. You had dreamed of the moment that you would meet your soulmate for years and you had never imagined that this would be your first encounter.

The sharp pain of rejection stabs your heart and you slowly get back into the driver’s seat.

“Do you want me to go?” Ben asks from your back seat.

“No… Where would you like me to drop you off?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he whispers quietly, “The Umbrella Academy.”

In an instant your blood runs cold, and you remember the celebrities of your childhood. Ben had been quiet, elusive and often a reluctant participant in the antics of The Umbrella Academy. You remember being especially intrigued by him since his name is emblazoned onto your arm. Never would you dream that your name would don his arm as well. Suddenly you understand his sorrow and his confusion. He had died mysteriously of a violent accident when he was just 20 years old. His powers had gotten the best of him is what he rumors say. A power that is great and terrifying.

With a sigh you head in the direction of the city and to the mansion you never thought you would ever see in person.  

The ride is silent and uncomfortable. Anytime that you would glance in your rearview mirror to see the man in the seat behind you, he would be staring with abject determination out of the window. You pull up in front of the mansion and park the car. Ben says nothing to you as he just gets out of the car. You watch as he hesitates at the gate and gazes up at the place he spent his childhood.

It takes only a moment before you get out of the car and rush to his side. He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes before he averts his gaze once again. You say nothing as you take his hand in your own. You’re surprised when he doesn't fight it, just tightens his hold on you.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers forlornly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for…” you say softly.

With a new found courage, Ben pushes the gate open and the two of you walk up the stairs to the front door. Ben just stands there and stares at the door.

“I don’t want to be here,” he finally says.

You turn to look up at him in confusion.

“I spent my whole life trying to get out of here, and I don’t want to go back… but I don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“But you do… You have me.”

He looks down at you in awe and surprise.

“I can’t…”

“The universe, against all odds, wants us to be together… You can.”

For the first time you watch as the man you are supposed to be with smiles at you. It’s more than you ever hoped for.

[hollandroos]

Run To Me; Part Twenty | Final

Summary: Dad!Mob!Tom. Sequel to BAK but you don’t have to read that one first. If you wish too, the link is in my bio masterlist!! Where old feelings arise but other things get in the way. Whether it’s kids, fears or things from your past coming back to haunt you.

Run To Me: Series Masterlist!

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: It’s literally mostly good.

A/N: Right, here it is... the last chapter. Let me tell you I literally cried like three times writing this. These characters have been a part of my life for the last few months (whenever I started BAK) and if you’re a writer and spend as long as I do writing them then I’m sure you understand that letting them go can be hard– and this was definitely hard, ask @spiderrrling and @dej-okay I was literally sobbing over this.

I wanna thank you all that continuously supported me throughout these two books. I know they were a huge mess at times and just... a product of my very active imagination but thank you to everyone that left notes and comments and sent asks and just kept motivating me to finish this series. There is a two-part epilogue so keep an eye out!! You’ll want to read it.

Tom didn’t know what he was expecting to walk into when he rammed your front door open. But it wasn’t you holding a gun over Aiden who was on his knees, practically begging for his life. Though everyone in that room knew that you wouldn’t pull the trigger, especially Tom. However, Aiden was a fool. A whining, begging fool who had made a vast selection of mistakes.

Rosie sat on the barstool with her back facing the scene per your wishes and you were glad that she was abiding for once, colouring in a picture for Tom with the words ‘Dad’ scribbled on the bottom in bright pink pencil. They were the pencils that she had left here, most of them blunt and stubby. She didn’t look shocked but he saw the remains on tears on her cheeks, evidence of her previously being upset.

The dad and husband rushed over, heart practically beating out of his chest and your eyes didn’t move off of Aiden for a single second, keeping the weapon trained on the dangerous man and Tom would easily say that it was a site he never wanted to see, one of you looking so distraught and terrified and unknowing of what to do next.

“Darling, give me the gun.” He prompts. Aiden's eyes widen even more if that was possible, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and if he didn’t realise that he’d fucked up before, then he definitely had now.

Two men walked in behind Tom, each his guys that he trusted– not as much as Z and Jacob or Sam, but trusted nonetheless. They stood tall, cracking their knuckles and snarled at the sight of the guy on his knees.

You didn’t reply to Tom but he didn’t miss the gentle sob that escaped your lips, and the way you passed the weapon with a shaky hand, or the way you stepped back hurriedly, nearly tripling up on the living room rug as you went over to Rosie, cradling her into your chest and she dropped the pencil with a gentle thud, arms going around your neck. Tom held the power now, and Aiden looked goddamn terrified. Rightfully so.

It reminded you of the first time you met. He had been stone cold, glaring at both your father and you and had tapped that pencil obnoxiously on the desk. You had been unaware of what you had gotten yourself into, and who exactly. But now, even in your state of shock, you saw a man that would go to the very ends of the Earth for his family.

“Should’ve let me kill her.” The man on his knees growls, spitting towards the carpet. You wanted to punch him, to use him as a personal boxing bag and put him through every ounce of pain that he’d put your family through. But violence wasn’t the answer and Rosie was snuggled under your arms, her curls pressed tightly against your clothing.

Tom laughs maniacally. “You would never have pulled the trigger, you’re weak.” He narrows his eyes, nodding his two men forward. He gets down on his two knees, one hand against the rug. “You’re fucking weak and that’s what got you here in the first place, you listened to a man that nearly got you killed then you were given another chance and you fucked up again. It’s over, Wilson, it’s done.”

Aiden doesn’t say anything else but he sends glares towards all three of you– Rosie included and you didn’t see the glimmer of mischief you used to see in his eyes, but pure anger and frustration. It was scary, like every ounce of the man you used to know was gone.

Toms men take him, grabbing onto one arm each and he hands one of them the gun, watching them walk towards the door because a part of him wanted to end the man himself this time, to make sure that the job got done but he doesn’t. Because he had a priority as well as a purpose, and that wasn’t it.

“What about your dad?” You sniffle, running one hand down Rosies back. She was tired, slowly drifting off then and there. Admittedly she hadn’t slept much last night. Rosie wouldn’t tell either of you this but she was still playing with her dolls at eleven.

“Sam and Harry have it, they have everything under control.” Tom leans against the counter, but he was clearly tense. “That was quite a big scare, there.”

“But you need to be there, you said so yourself and I should have sorted this, I know I could’ve done it by myself like you and him taught me.” You shrug off his last comment, speaking softly as Rosie nods off. You also thought that it’d help conceal the way your voice shook, but you were wrong.

“Darling, they’re seeing to it, and I’m sure they’re doing a better job then I would be.” He replies, laughing lightly to break the tension. But fails. He hated this– that his job put you in so much danger. That it pushed you to the point of struggling to breathe and think clearly. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t thank me, I should have done that a long time ago.” He says truthfully, regrets including not dealing with the parasite sooner. Though he couldn’t tell if he was about to make the same mistakes this time, or doing the right thing.

He holds a hand out for you to take, “Should we go home?”

“Can we stay a little longer? I want to grab a few things.”  You deny his outstretched hand, hoisting the sleeping girl into your arms and look around the place, seeing colouring ins and little toys, clothes and small memories that you didn’t want to forget.

He was shocked that you wanted to stay but nods nonetheless, already stepping away from the counter. “Take all the time in the world.”

“Want me to take her?” He extends his arms towards Rosie and you nod hesitantly, handing her over. You were only hesitant considering you had just seen how easy it was for the two of you to be taken away from each other. The second he takes her, she stirs. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Rosie peeks an eye open, tear-stained cheeks puffy and warm against his chest.

“Daddy?” She mumbles, looking up. Tom would never cease to be amazed at the similarities between the two of them, and how her eyes were like pools of honey, captivating. He still found himself lost in her voice every time she said that five letter word, a part of him not believing it for a second because it was all so new and surreal to him.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, bounding her up and down softly. He pads around the living room slowly while you scurried off down the hall, taking a moment just to bask in her and all that she was– and the little girl she was slowly becoming.

“Are you a superhero?” Rosie questions, easily in and out of sleep as she spoke but to her the question was serious. Tom chuckled to himself, pressing his lips to her cheeks. He was gentle with her.

Tom had to think about it, not because superheroes weren't real because they surely were– superheroes were the people that helped other on a daily basis, like the person down the street that ran for charity or the man next door that helped you move into your apartment on the first day and the parents that comfort their distraught children. After all, the definition of a superhero in the Cambridge dictionary was ‘someone who has done something very brave to help someone else’

Tom had to think about it because he had done bad things, if anything he felt that he was a villain but maybe just for today, he could be a hero.

“I am.”

The girl in his arms was the girl that he’d grown close to in a matter of months, who had gravitated towards him with so much ease and he was proud. Tom had done a lot of things in his life, but the thing he was most proud of was easily becoming a father.

She easily began to drift off in his arms again, finding comfort in the man’s arms with her head resting on his shoulder. He was tough built, yes, but his coat made him just squashy enough for her to lay there contently and not for a single second did she want to wriggle away and find comfort on the couch, or her old bed. She would grow up to be like him in more ways then way, gaining all of his best traits and yeah, you were definitely right. She was a daddy's girl.

And somehow over the course of the last few months, the girl had learnt to accept embraces from both her mum and newfound dad. She craved it now whereas before she would have squirmed away, demanding she does her own thing. Now, she found nothing better than being hoisted up and wrapped up in a pair of secure arms.

-

“Hey, you ready?”

He sees you walk out with a bag under your arm, clearly not filled with lots but the important stuff he assumed. It was filled with Aiden's things for you to burn, to chuck into scolding, crimson flames and watch them disappear as a way to get closure. But he’d find that out later– and god knows Tom would be willing to participate.

You nod and bite your lip, looking around the room before back to him. “Can we talk before we go? There are just a few things I–” Your voice cracks. “I need to get off of my chest.”

Tom nods and the two of you head towards one of the couches, the smaller of the two and sit down. He was nervous because things had gone south once more and your relationship had never had a moment to settle, there was never a moment just for the two of you to look around and be content. Not even five years ago. Everything was always up and down, a roller coaster of emotions and goods and bads.

Maybe that was just the way it’d be, though.

Rosie was sent to spend time with Sam (He would deal with the aftermath of what the other boys had done at the warehouse later) who had arrived not long ago to mumble and talk things that made no sense to him but he’d still listen anyway, maybe prompting her to count blocks in the car or try and read a first grade book. She was smart like that. And you, you sat on one of the couches with Tom, in a state of utter shock that had only set in just after Tom arrived.

Because when you held the gun, and when Aiden’s hands were on you, you didn’t have time to think about what was exactly happening and the many possible outcomes. Truth be told you had been in a haze, fight or flight mode and now that it was settling in– the previous events, you were thinking over everything three times, four, then six. You found yourself comparing events and wishing you could do it all over again but handle it better.

Tom didn’t touch you, keeping his hands on his own lap and didn’t for a moment think about how the couch at his home was way comfier, or how there were scribbles on the walls and mouldy fruits on the bench. Though he realised that maybe he should have sent someone to clean the place after the three of you left in a hurry. But now the boy was too consumed by you, and your distressed state.

“I thought I was going to die this time.” Your sobs are silent as you speak, warm tears staining your puffy cheeks. “And I thought that I wasn’t going to get to live the life we were working towards. I got my hopes up for something more than this… then the mob and I thought it was about to be taken away from me and Rosie.”

Tom wanted to soothe you, to pull you into his arms and maybe run a hand through your hair, or down your arm or back but instead, he sat there and watched you pull the blanket tightly around your figure until you were drapped into the grey woollen cover. But he didn’t want to make your frightened state any worse so he sat with crossed legs– just like yours, and he waited for you to make the first move to enforce any kind of physical contact.

Though he couldn’t comfort you physically, he’d do his best to do it verbally. “You did amazing, you saved your life and Rosies.”

“Do you see that, Tom? That little bullet hole in the couch?” You ask, nodding towards the hole that pierces the fabric of the couch you’d spent plenty of nights on, sipping from scolding hot chocolates, teaching Rosie to read and watching reruns of tv shows.  He nods. “She was so close to that– that could have been here because I didn’t look after her and she put herself in front of a gun, a loaded weapon.”

Rosie had jumped out of the way out of pure fright when she had heard the gunshot, nearly falling to the floor. She had smacked her arm against the chair, whimpering in pain as the plaster smacked against the wood.

His heart shattered seeing warm tears welling in your eyes, you were clearly shaking. “She survived, yeah? I swear that girl could survive anything. You and her are the strongest women I know and that hasn’t changed after tonight.”

“If she died I’d never forgive myself.” You shake your head, thinking about the other hundred outcomes that could have occurred today.

“She didn’t die, neither did you. The two of you are still alive and breathing and Aiden will never, ever hurt you again, you hear me?” Tom says, making you nod your head this time– sniffles competing with the rain that beats against the roof of the room. He brushes a few strands of hair back.

“I just can’t deal with any more loss, Tommy, I can’t do it.” You wiggle forward until your crossed knees were touching, it was the slightest bit of contact but just enough. “I lost my mum, and we lost Harrison and my dad… you guys are all I have and I can’t live like this, with guns and violence and constant danger.”

He swallowed harshly at the mention of Harrison and your father– then your mother. He still felt guilty about the death of all three.

“They’re proud of us, and what we’ve overcome to get here today.

“You know, my dad used to always tell me that I was still in love with you,” You suck in a deep breath. “He used to tell me that if I was so in love, I should just go back. He liked you, he did, no matter what you did– or what your family did in the past. Because for a while back then you made me so happy.” Your voice cracks, Words falling before you can even think about it.

Tom felt a little better knowing that your father liked him, considering he always felt that the man despised him. “You did what was best for you and now we’re here, we’re back together. I guess that’s meant to be, right?”

“We are, like soulmates or something.” You reach over, lacing your hands together. You sniffled every few moments, basking in each others touch for a few moments before you speak up again. “I don’t want us to live like this anymore. With danger everywhere.”

“We don’t have to.”

“You have so much to look after, Tom. I love you and I’ll stick with you no matter how long you stay in the mob, but it’s hard on us.” By us, you meant you and Rosie, and Tom knew that. Your words weren’t meant to cut deep, they were simply common sense for the two of you now and Tom got that. “I can’t lose anyone else, especially the two of you.”

Maybe it was too soon to tell you about his plans because a hundred things were already going on in your head and a few more would be nearly enough to make it explode. But hearing that… that was enough to bring a set of warm tears to his own eyes. Because you weren’t going to lose him. Not to a gunshot to the chest, or being beaten by rival gangs.

Tom was excited for a fresh start away from this and he couldn’t keep it secret any longer.

“You won’t lose me, got it? Or Rosie either–” He stops, pulling his phone out of his pocket and goes to his camera roll where there’s a selection of photos, at least seven. You stay silent, watching with hazy eyes and a tired soul. There are three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room just enough for two adults and a small child. A backyard for a swing set or a treehouse. He hands you the phone. “What do you think of this?”

You look at the photos, furrowing your eyebrows together as you swipe. The place was beautiful, homely, and nothing like you’d seen before. But you were confused by what he meant– why he was showing you photos of the house.

“I– what?” You respond, looking up from the phone to glance at Tom. He wet his lips.

“That’s ours.” He murmurs, watching you take another flick through the photos. Tom felt a pang of happiness– no, more than just a pang. He practically felt his heart explode as you gazed for the first time, at the sight of your future.

“No, it’s not.” You reply cautiously. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to get your hopes up or maybe it was because it seemed all too good to be true. That something good that finally come out of all the bad and you were just waiting for it to be torn away.

“I got that for us.” Hesitantly, confidently he continues. “We can never have the normal, suburban lifestyle. But we can have this. It’s a house two bedrooms and an acre of land. It’s pretty closed off but…. It’s the best I could do while making sure we were also safe. No mobs, no violence. There’s a school for Rosie and some shops just twenty minutes away.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, handing the phone back. He nods, tucking it back into his jeans. “That– that’s amazing, how did you do that behind my back?”

He laughs lightly, chest rumbling as he rests one hand on your still crossed knee, stroking the clothed skin softly. “Are you surprised?

“No.” You shake your head, being honest with him. “You’re not kidding, are you? You’re serious about giving up the mob? That’s what you worked for, Tom, you shouldn’t have to if you don’t want to–”

Your excitement overcomes your nerves, though Tom could still tell that you were wary of this. Not about moving, and starting a new, much safer life, but him leaving everything he’d ever known behind. It was definitely scary, but long, long overdue.

“I want this, god I want to leave that behind more then anything and just have a normal life, or as normal as we can have. I’ve told Harry and Sam… or at least I wrote it down for them, they’ve got this and we can finally have a life of our own.” He sucks in a breath. “It’s our turn now.”

You practically dive into his arms, the woollen blanket falling around your waist as arms snake around his shoulders. Tom jolted back slightly, shocked before he returns the hug. It’s a feeling that was growing on you, one you didn’t mind that much anymore. Comfort.  He embraced every second of it as you rested your head on his chest, counting each steady heartbeat with an arched back.

“We’re going to be a family.” You tell him, in a haze that felt all too good to be true.

“We already are, we’re just going to be a safer family. The house will need lots of security and stuff but… we can make it work.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes, gazing into your so familiar orbs. “You won’t have to worry about us getting hurt at any moment, or Rosie getting lost in the halls anymore or stumbling across something you’re not supposed to.”  

Deep down you knew that you’d always worry about it because you would always be a target and Tom would always be a threat. But hearing him say that you’d be safe and that you could finally have all that you’d ever wanted– the stuff you only dreamed about as a kid made you nearly jump with joy. You practically did jump right into his arms without a second thought.

Because while he talked about that, your mind drifted from Aiden and Dominic and Harrison and Nick and your father, and you called that utter bliss for a moment. Not that you wanted to ever forget Harrison, but the survivor's guilt you happened to live with every day was dull for a moment, and the thought of never seeing your father again– never telling him you loved him was gone, sitting in the very back of your brain as you planned your future. If this was the feeling Tom gave you… the effect he had, then it had to be meant to be, right?

You and Tom being placed back together wasn’t the universe's way of trying to put you back through that hell you experienced years ago, nor its way of trying to put Tom back into his place when it comes to being a solid leader, but it was about overcoming and healing, closing old wounds. You were just too blind to see that at first but now the pieces had fallen together and you were given another chance– one that you were grasping onto.

It was about doing the things you were afraid to do such as loving again, learning to give yourself to someone else and for Tom it was about giving up the mob and he was doing that– and for the first time in twenty-something years, he was prepared to give up anything to laugh, love, and live the life he wanted. He was prepared to cling onto happiness and his happiness was you.

Yeah, things with Aiden and Dominic had ended quickly and maybe something worse could’ve happened. Lives could have been lost and heck, people could have ended up in hospital but it didn’t take that for you and Tom to realise that you needed to hold onto each other. You were looking forward when you’d always looked back, looking at how you could improve instead of how to fix past mistakes.

Gazing up, you press one hand against his cheek, brushing his bottom lip with your thumb and smile.

“I think this just proves that I’d choose you time and time again, Tom Holland.”

Leave comments or asks, reblog if you wish!! let’s talk about this chapter

Epilogue part 1

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[readyourimgaines]

Rami Character Nightmare Comfort

Alright. So, my girlfriend has been having terrible nightmare lately, so I thought I’d try writing some fluff to cheer her up a bit. If people are interested enough I can do a part two with Freddie, Kenny, Louis, and or Jonah. Let me know what you guys think. One of my longer posts, but I hope you enjoy. 

I hope this helps in some way, My Darling. -Freddie 

Rami had nightmares every now and again like everyone else, but not nearly as often as you did. You were plagued with them. When the two of you first started going out, you worried he’d break up with you the very night it was decided it was time to move in together. You thought it surprising when he proved you wrong.

He opened his eyes as you wriggled around in his arms and whimpered. He looked around for a moment to pinpoint where whimpering was coming from before his sleep riddled brain put together that it was you.

“Darling?” He gently shook your shoulder but got no reaction. “Y/N.” He shook you a little harder and you woke up with a gasp, your eyes snapping open. “Are you alright?”

You curled in on yourself, not being able to stop the tears. They were of shame more than anything else. The action made his worry increase even more. “Y/N? Come on, Dear.” Rami gently rubbed your back. “Do you wanna talk about it? That always helped Sami.” That caught your attention.

“Sami had nightmares?”

“Mhm. Few times a month. I’d wake him up, he’d tell me about the nightmare if he could or wanted to, and then we cuddled in one out beds so he could sleep again.” Rami wasn’t surprised by the skeptical look you gave him. He turned and look at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The glowing green letters read 5:10. “He wakes up in 20 minutes.” Rami reached for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling him.”

“Wha-”

“We’ve been dating for almost eight months, Y/N. I’m not leaving you because you have nightmares. I’m calling Sami so he can tell you I don’t get annoyed by helping someone through nightmares.” He pressed call and set it on speaker. I rang four times before Sami answered.

“Dude. It’s 2:15. What’s do you need?” His tone was tired but not annoyed or upset.

“2:15? I forgot about the time zones,” Rami said sheepishly.

“Forget I said anything. What’s up, Ram?”

“Y/N had a nightmare and didn’t fully believe me when I said I used to help you after one.” Rami summed up.

“Yeah. I’d cuddle with him after I told him about it.”

“I thought he was making it up to make me feel better…”

“Nope. I woke him up all the time. Just like he wakes me up now because always New York is three hours ahead of L.A. because they’re litteral different ends of the country.” All three of you chuckled at Sami’s reminder. “I’m going back to bed because I giving a test tomorrow. I’ll talk to your guys later.”

“G’night, Sam.” “Night Sami.” And the twins hung up their phone.

Rami gently pulled against and held you for a while before speaking. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He pulled you even closer when he felt you shudder. “You don’t have to.” He kissed you cheek. “I’ve got you, darling. No more nightmares tonight.”

Being a veteran of war, Snafu was no stranger to nightmares and sleep paralysis. He was heartbroken to learn that you weren’t either. Walking into the bedroom you shared, he was worried to see you laying there with your eyes open but otherwise unmoving.

“Boo.” He jogged to your side of the bed and sat by your side. The monsters were the worst part of paralysis. You saw them the second you open your eyes and were scared to close them again for fear of what would happen.

Snafu leaned down and pressed your faces together- nose to nose, forehead to forehead- so all you could see were his blue-silver eyes. His eyes always made you feel safe. Now was no exception. He hummed a song, he’d sang it before when doing the dishes. Snafu placed hi hand in your limp one, to silently tell you to hold his hand when you were able.

A couple of antagonizing minutes passed before you were able to hold his but the second he felt your hand move in his he kissed you. With the hand you weren’t holding, he caressed your cheek to try and ground you more so you’d focus on him instead.

When Snafu started to pull away, you whined in protest at the loss of heat. He quickly unlaced his boots with a well practiced hand and toed them off before more or less wrapping himself around you. “You’re okay, Boo,” he whispered in your ear.

Snafu wasn’t the best at comforting people verbally, but his touch was calming, loving, and grounding.

You yawned again and Ahkmenrah tilted his head to the side. You were normally wide awake and ready to go come nightfall.  

“Y/N?” Ahkmenrah approached you cautiously. You and the pharaoh had become close friends on the borderline of a relationship for about two months.

“What’s up Ahk?” You asked.

“Are you alright? You look...tired.” He was the only person you know who could look confused and worried at the same time.

“I’m alright. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.” You admitted. He studied you for a few seconds and you almost faltered under his strong gaze.

He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” You took his hand.

“To the breakroom,” he said simply. “You need to sleep.” He tightened the hold on your hand just a little, like he knew you’d pull your hand away.

“Ahk-”

“I know- how would you say?- a thing or two about closing my eyes when I am petrified at the notion.” His words sunk in and somehow didn’t feel right. “There is a trick that Jed helped me to find on that glowing box not too long ago.”

“What’s the trick?” You entered the breakroom and you both sat on the couch He took off his chestplate before easing you to rest your head in his lap, his shendyt serving as an sort of pillow.

“Just relax,” he said in a hushed tone. He started carding his hands through your hair. Listen to my voice. Listen to my voice and let me show you where I’m from.” He paused a moment and you closed your eyes with a small sigh, the light pressure on your scalp making you drowsy already. “Everyone knows Egypt for the sand, but they never talk about the banks of the Nile. The breathtaking flying bugs- I think Americans call them dragonflies- that came all sorts of colours. And the sunsets and rises that reflect on the water…”

Between his gentle voice, the movements of his hands in your hair, and the verbal painting of Egypt, you didn’t stand a chance of staying awake.

Elliot was very used to mind games. His usual happened while he was awak, but had his fair share of nightmares and night terrors. He didn’t know how to stop them, how to make them less frequent. He’d done the research: the REM sleep; the four stages of sleep; how not enough sleep can send someone into sleep paralysis; how the only way to stop them was to sleep more. It was bullshit.

You and Elliot weren’t exactly romantic. You’d been friend for years, lived together, cuddled on the off chance that Elliot needed human contact- you were someone he could trust.

He could tell when you were down and when you needed contact. When tipped him off this time was the bags under your eyes, how you fidgeted like you were being watched in the quiet room that had the usual calm atmosphere the two of you had always established.

“Are you alright?” He’d gotten home from work at AllSafe to find you sitting next to Qwerty’s bowl and looking out the window with the fish.

“I’m good… Tired.”

“Need a smoke?” He put his backpack on his desk chair.

“I think would make things worse,” you declined the offer. “Does weed make your nightmares worse?” you asked.

Elliot shrugged. “Maybe. I just get too high to care about the nightmares,” he explains. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and shuffled his feet a little. “Do you need to cuddle? I can boot leg something dumb so you don’t need to think. Rest that way.”

You looked over your shoulder at the hacker. “You’re sure?”

He nodded. “What do you wanna watch?”