#meanwhile he's locked himself in like a supply closet to make sure he at least doesn't bleed out in public

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Ok. If anybody wants the way-too-hyperspecific-to-possibly-be-accurate-but-my-brain-ran-away-with-it thing that I'm picturing, I had to get it out of my head vvv

So -- and once I actually *read* Messiah I'll have a more concrete concept on this -- some context: as of now my main guess for the 3rd film is that it's gonna jump around in time and not be a clear linear narrative. That we'll see snippets of post-holy war existence without much context (at least for non-book readers) at first, which are then intercut with scenes from right where Part 2 left off, and back and forth like that so the audience steadily pieces together where the two meet up. That's just my guess/I think it would be Neat.

Ok

So my way way too specific Idea is like. We begin with very not subtle parallels to the way Part 1 began. Starting with a scene with Chani (honestly I have no idea what exactly this scene would be) that appears to be from where Part 2 left off but then is revealed to be in the present. Then we cut to The Past. Parallel to how part 1 began, going from Chani to a closeup of Paul, asleep. This time clearly still beaten to a pulp. The way it's angled it looks like he's lying down, but the camera slowly tilts to show he's actually upright and slumped against a wall (funnily Denis actually used a similar shot in Part 1 when Paul wakes up in the ornithopter). He very slowly opens his eyes. In a wider shot we see he's in a room somewhere on the imperial ship (I guess?), alone, clumsily bandaged. There's a medical kit of some kind near him and supplies still scattered by where he's sitting, indicating he fell asleep or passed out shortly after patching himself up. He sits up slowly and after taking a moment to compose himself picks up right where he presumably left off; readjusting the bandages, disinfecting, actually cleaning the blood from his face that he hasn't had a chance to yet. He's clearly still in pain, disoriented, having difficulty moving at all -- but there's a mechanical, emotionless feeling to everything he does. For a few seconds he sits there, exhausted. Then he gets to his feet, arranges his clothes so the wounds are hidden, pulls that hooded cloak around himself. His face is in shadow, hidden to us. He puts on his hood and turns away, the camera following him from behind as he staggers out of whatever room he's locked himself in, out through a corridor...and into a room crowded with his followers, celebrating their most recent victory. And it's not his bruised, hooded face we see, but theirs.

It's definitely not going to happen, but I think it would be neat.

I know this is a long shot, and I have no idea how Messiah is even going to be handled onscreen in regards to the time jump, but I'd love a scene of Paul wrapping up his own wounds from the end of Part 2. Because one, you can't just injure your main character That Much and then never follow up on it in any way.

But more importantly I want that emphasis on how alone he is. I need the narrative to keep acknowledging that. Despite being so important *in theory*, he isn't protected, he isn't cared about. He's a thing to be in awe of and be terrified of. So having him alone, injured, taking care of himself in private with nobody watching him or following him...and then having him drag himself back to his feet to go commit more war crimes immediately after showing him in a deeply vulnerable and lonesome position would be. hm. something.

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 15.20: “Carry On”

I’ll warn you right now - I did not hate it.

THEN: Chuck loses. Jack is God. The Winchesters are finally free.

NOW: Friends, get ready for a whole lot of fan service in the next few minutes. It's like TPTB have been reading everything we say and giving us what we want.

As a song about "ordinary life" plays, Dean's retro alarm clock goes off at 8:00. He shuts it off and sits up so we can see he's wearing a henley shirt (fan service points: 1). As he stretches, he's greeted by Miracle the dog (fan service points: 2)! Who is apparently his dog and definitely not Sam's!

But it's okay because LOOK AT THEM.

Meanwhile, Sam is running (fan service points: 3) and enjoying the beautiful day. When he gets home, he cooks (fan service points: 4) the same dry scrambled eggs that Stevie made for Charlie. Dean wanders in, wearing the dead guy robe, just as two slices of toast pop out of the toaster. I am not giving the robe any points because I don't think it's anything we all publicly long for and get excited about when it comes up, but I am willing to consider any opposing arguments. Sam, wearing just a t-shirt (5 points), tells Dean "it's hot" and I say mmm, yes it is. Dean adorably burns his hands on the hot toast and then brushes his teeth. You know what, I think the robe deserves a point after all. We're up to 6.

And we're not even two minutes into the episode.

And then they JUST KEEP COMING because Sam walks in, exposing his tattoo (7) because he's SHIRTLESS (8), scrubbing at his WET HAIR (9) with a towel, and I curse The Husband for deciding to watch with me because it means it would be kind of awkward to rewind and watch this a few more times. There's not even any dialog I can pretend I didn't catch.

I was NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

He pulls on the grey v-neck t-shirt of sex (10) and proceeds to carefully make his bed. Dean, meanwhile, kind of sloppily throws his bed together and calls it done. Domestic Winchesters for 11 fan service points, please. Part of me feels like Dean's messy room is OOC, considering how proud he was to have his own room in the first place. But then I have to consider the trunk of the Impala, especially when compared to the hyper-organized neatness of her trunk when Sam's all alone in Mystery Spot, and it feels right. (Why am I thinking about Sam being all alone in Mystery Spot? NO REASON, NO REASON AT ALL.)

Sam's hair in his face while he makes his bed? Yes, please (12 points).

Dean washes the breakfast dishes (13), sneaking some leftover (because they were nasty) eggs to Miracle and looking around to make sure Sam doesn't see, because obviously Sam's going to be the one who doesn't want the dog to get table scraps. Sam put on a plaid shirt earlier, but we see him in the laundry room back down to one v-neck t-shirt (thank you Jack). He's reading as his laundry tumbles in the dryer, and he has to kick the dryer once to stop it from making noise, which I guess is why he's in there babysitting it. I keep reading on Tumblr that people want "at least one laundry scene," as if that didn't exist in The Monster at the End of This Book, but here's your laundry scene, friends. You were right to want it; it is marvelous (14).

Just look at that collection of plaid shirts and tell me it doesn't make you happy.

Dean times himself assembling a gun, complete with plenty of hand closeups (15) and then sits in the library with Miracle, scratching his ears (Miracle's, not his own) and apparently looking for a case. Sam comes in and joins them. He hasn't found anything, but Dean gets a serious look on his face and says "I got something."

Spoiler alert: It is my heart.

Title card!

The Impala pulls to a stop and the guys get out, still with serious looks on their faces. Oddly, the episode title flashes on screen really quickly. Or maybe it's just me. "Sure you're ready for this?" says Sam. "Oh, I don't have a choice," answers Dean. "This is my destiny." And that is exactly how I felt about watching this episode, friends. Not ready, but no choice. The camera pans to show that the boys are at the 43rd Annual Akron Pie Fest. In Akron, Iowa? Just north of Sioux City? Five hour drive? Say hi to Jody and the girls while you're there? Probably not. Probably in Akron, Ohio, almost 16 hours away.

(NO ONE CARES. STOP IT.)

Give me a break. This might be the last time I ever get to calculate driving time.

Anyway. Just pies! Nothing serious! Whew, I was concerned for a second. Dean is emotional.

This is just so beautiful.

Are you crying?

What? No. You're crying, I'm not.

No one is crying. There is no reason for ANYONE to cry.

Sam sits on a bench and watches happy pie eating families (sob). Dean returns with a giant box with six slices of pie (16 points). He sits next to Sam, and they have this conversation:

What's wrong?

Nothing. I'm fine.

Nah, come on, I know that face. That's Sad!Sam face.

I'm not Sad!Sam. I just. I'm thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. If they could be here.

Yeah, I know, I think about them too. You know what, that pain's not gonna go away, right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is going to be for nothing.

Dean's right, Sam. Do not be sad. We will have no Sad!Sam tonight. Live your life, or else those sacrifices are wasted. (ahem.) Sam responds by pushing a slice of pumpkin pie into Dean's face. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time," he laughs. "You're right, I do feel better!" Dean scraping the pie off his face and eating it is pretty adorable.

I'd pay good money to lick that off his face. And not just because I love pumpkin pie.

Not quite 6 minutes in and we're up to at least 16 guaranteed bits of pure fan service. Just sweet, domestic Winchester brothers living their lives. How long has this been going on? I've decided it's been at least a year since the last episode. Maybe longer. A good long time. Lots of time for them to enjoy their newfound freedom. But right now things are getting dark. Because it's nighttime, and because I think somebody's about to die.

A mom sends two young brothers upstairs for bathtime. They pause when the doorbell rings. No one seems to be there, but then the dad is stabbed by people wearing creepy masks. The boys run into their room and hide. From their room, we hear the mom scream, and then a thump. One of the masked guys comes into the room and, after a fake-out when we think they might be safe, drags the boys out from under the bed.

So, domestic life in the bunker and then a hunt? Wow. We're getting it all. What a great episode, full of the things we love.

Is this Becky Rosen's living room?

Daytime. Agents Kripke and Singer (ugh, really? Kripke is good, but how about honoring someone other than the current regime?) show up at the scene. They learn that the dad's blood was drained, the mom is alive but her tongue was ripped out (wow), and the kids were taken. The mom drew a picture of the masks they wore, which the brothers recognize.

In a lovely, picturesque spot, the guys flip through John's journal. And I didn't realize we hadn't seen the journal in a while, but Tumblr informs me many of us were exicted to see it again, so boom. 17 points.

You know what this is? Mimes. Evil mimes.

Yeah. Or vampires.

VampMIMES. Son of a bitch!

Dean comes up with a silly portmanteau name for a monster? That will be 18 points. Sam determines the vamps will be heading for Canton if they follow their pattern, and the victims are families who live on the outskirts of town with children between the ages of five and ten. Well, that couldn't be too difficult to narrow down in a city with a population of over 70,000.

I'll handwave it. The lip biting. You’re welcome.

Night. Canton, I presume. Two masked vamps get out of a van. One of them gets decapitated by Dean. The other is shot in the leg, and then the head, by Sam. Well, he's a vampire, so of course it didn't kill him, but the bullet was soaked in dead man's blood. {Sidebar: "Soaked?" Dipped, maybe, but do you soak metal? Discuss.} They ask where the missing kids are, and the vamp is all, you're gonna let me go if I tell you? "No," Dean explains, adorably disappointed that the vamp isn't a mime after all. "This isn't a you walk out of here kind of situation. But see, if you tell us quick, you get this." He displays his bloody machete. "But if you take your time, you get, you get that." And "that" is a switchblade which Sam casually pops open right on cue.

Yeah, I'll take that. I'll take that itty bitty one.

It's a bad choice.

You see, this, this is quick. It's clean, you know? No muss, no fuss. You blink and you're dead.

But a blade this small, I'm gonna have to keep sawing and sawing to get your head off. And you'll feel it. Every muscle, tendon. Every inch. Could take hours.

Oh, and if those kids are dead? He's gonna use a spoon.

GUYS. I said it before and I’ll say it again. I absolutely love when they remind us that Sam Winchester, that sweet boy with the huge heart and the endless supply of empathy and the puppy dog eyes, I love it when they remind us that he is a fucking psycho when he needs to be. I'm not going to give it a point, because I don't think it's anything we've asked for, but again I'm willing to hear all arguments. Especially if they come with detailed examples of Sam going psycho. Just for evidence, you know.

Just casually talkin' bout torturing you to death. No big.

The vampire wisely decides to reveal the location of the nest where the kids are being held. Next we see the Impala pulling up in front of some kind of barn. The guys open the trunk to get their gear out, and Dean pulls out a throwing star. "Come on. One time." Sam says no. There will be plenty of other times for Dean to use his throwing stars, I'm sure.

The guys enter the barn and find it apparently empty, although we see masked vamps peeking at them from outside. They find the kids locked in a closet, but four vampires appear before they can escape. They shoo the boys outside and shoot the vampires with their dead man's blood bullets from a safe distance. No, they don't. Why? I got no goddamn idea.

{Sidebar: At some point during this fight, I realized they hadn't played "Carry On Wayward Son" at the beginning. And that we got a regular montage, not a season finale extended montage.}

Sam gets knocked unconscious, and Dean loses his machete and then gets pinned by a couple of vamps. But they don't kill him; they just hold him down while an unmasked vampire strolls in. Dean recognizes her from season 1, and pretends not to notice Sam's now-conscious hand surreptitiously creeping toward his machete. Suddenly the vampire loses her head, because Sam is behind her, and the fight starts up again. Dean gets thrown into a wall right next to a big metal spike, which we focus on oddly. And then he gets thrown onto the spike. Oops. Sam kills the last of the vamps and doesn't notice Dean's predicament. He's all, cool, fight's over, let's go get those kids out of here. "Sam," Dean says, "I don't think I'm going anywhere."

Dean tells Sam there's something stuck in his back and it "feels like it's right through me." He keeps touching his chest as if he expects to feel it poking through. Sam reaches around to touch his back and his hand comes back bloody, and if that gives you All Hell Breaks Loose feels, there's a good reason. Sam tries to pull Dean off the spike, but Dean stops him. "It feels like this thing's holding me together right now." Sam's starting to panic and so am I. He wants to go get the first aid kid and call for help, but Dean stops him. And y'all, I'm just gonna have to type the whole thing out.

Sam, Sam. Stay with me. Please, stay with me, please.

Okay. Yeah.

Okay. Okay. Uh. Right. All right, listen to me. Um. You get those boys and you get them someplace safe, all right?

Dean? WE are gonna get them somewhere safe.

No. You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right? I mean, look at us. Saving people, hunting things, it's what we do.

Stop, Dean, just stop

It's okay. It's okay. it's good. It's good. We had one hell of a ride, man.

I will find away, okay? I will find another way.

No. No. No, no no no no. No bringing me back, okay? You know that always ends bad.

Dean, please.

I'm fading pretty quick, so, there's a few things I need you to hear. Come here. Let me look at you. There he is. I am so proud of you, Sam. You know that? I've always looked up to you. Remember when we were kids, you were so damn smart. You never took any of Dad's crap. I never knew how you did that. And you're stronger than me. You always have been. Hey, did I ever tell you, that night that I came for you when you were in school? You know, when dad hadn't come back from his hunting trip?

Uh, the woman in white.

The woman in white, that's right. I must have stood outside your door for hours, cause I didn't know what you would say. I thought you'd tell me to get lost, or get dead. And I didn't know what I would have done if I didn't have you. Cause I was so scared. I was scared. Cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It's always been you and me.

Then don't leave me. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.

Yes you can.

Well, I don't want to.

Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you. Right here. Every day. Every day you're out there, and you're living, and you're fighting, cause you, you always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there, every step. I love you so much. My baby brother. Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is, it is, and that's okay. I need you, I need you to promise me. I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need you to tell me it's okay. Look at me. I need. I need. I need you to tell me it's okay. Tell me it's okay.

Dean. It's okay. You can go now.

Bye, Sam.

NO, IT IS NOT OKAY. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF OKAY.

And of course I haven't described Sam's face as he understands what's happening, Dean's occasional spasms of pain, the handholding, the fucking FOREHEAD TOUCH, the tears, the way Dean's hand drops away, the way Sam's hands shake as he clutches his dead brother (hello, AHBL again).

Maybe we just need to watch it.

Gifs borrowed from @jaredandjensen​.

And there's also the Always Keep Fighting shoutout, the "I love you," Dean calling Sam his "baby brother," the "I can't do this alone/Yes you can/Well I don't want to" parallel with 1.01. Infinite points, friends. I can't count that high.

(Things not to think about: Sam putting Dean's body in the back seat, and then putting the two young brothers in the front and driving them to safety. Sam driving 15 hours back to Lebanon with his brother's body. Do not think about these things.)

Aftermath. Sam and Miracle, and no one else, are giving Dean a hunter's funeral. And I know Covid means Sam couldn't have any friends there, but also? This is kind of perfect. Sam facing it alone. The song we hear as Sam lights his brother's pyre is "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits, in case you're not emotionally wrecked yet.

Yeah, I'm already there, thanks anyway.

Next we see Sam's slightly more modern alarm going off at 8:00. Note that Sam gets up later now, because at the beginning of the episode, he had already gone for a run and was cooking breakfast when Dean woke at 8:00. But now there's no one to cook for so he doesn't need to get back early and I AM NOT OKAY.

ANYWAY.

Sam gets up and faces his lonely day. He cooks eggs. One piece of toast pops up. He sits in the library with Miracle and looks at the names carved into the table. He wanders the halls with his dog at his side. (SAM HAVING A DOG WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE HIM HAPPY. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE US HAPPY. HOW DARE YOU.)

{Sidebar: Has Sam ever had a dog when he wasn't at a low point in his already-low life? Discuss.}

Eventually he finds himself at the door to Dean's room. The room is just as Dean left it, kind of messy, kind of very full of Dean. He sits on Dean's bed and pets the dog and cries and it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that I am ROLLING AROUND IN ALL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL PAIN.

No one at all.

@annianvi thinks he’s wearing Dean’s hoodie when he cooks his sad lonely breakfast? Could it be?

Sam hears a phone buzzing in Dean's desk. He digs out the one labeled "Dean's other other phone" and answers. The caller asks for "Agent Bon Jovi" and says he's had some bodies turn up without hearts in Austin. "A friend of mine, Donna Hanscum, said you were the one to call." Oooh, are we sending him to Austin? Is Walker, Texas Ranger just going to be another fake name and fake badge? Now that's how you do a spinoff!

{Sidebar: Does Donna know about Dean? Did Sam tell anyone yet? Is the trying to get him out of the bunker and keep him busy? If so, wouldn't she have given the guy Sam's number, not Dean's other other phone? But maybe it's someone she talked to weeks ago. Discuss.}

Sam tells the caller he is on his way, and we see him with a packed bag, heading out of the bunker with Miracle. He turns to look one last time and then turns off all the lights. We haven't seen the bunker this dark since the day they found it. I don't think he's ever coming back. Goodbye, bunker. I know some people hated you, but I was not one of them. {Sidebar: Did he give the bunker key to anyone? Surely he wouldn't want all those resources to go to waste!}

So, I guess the episode title refers to Sam having (choosing?) to carry on after he loses his brother. THIS IS FINE.

Now we're back at Dean's pyre, and this time we drift up with the smoke. We catch up with Dean, outdoors, in a lovely setting with trees and birds. "Well, at least I made it to Heaven," he says. "Yep," someone answers. It's Bobby! Real Bobby, not AU Bobby! Dean's actually standing next to a building - a cabin, maybe - and Bobby is sitting on the porch.

What memory is this?

It ain't, ya idjit.

Yeah it is. Cause the last I heard, you, you were in in Heaven's lockup.

Was. Now I'm not. That kid of yours, before he went wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he, well, set some things right. Tore down all the walls. Heaven ain't just reliving your golden oldies any more. It's what it always should have been. Everyone happy, everyone together. Rufus lives about five miles that way. With Aretha. Thought she'd have better taste. And your mom and dad, they got a place over yonder. It ain't just Heaven, Dean. It's the Heaven you deserve. And we been waiting for you.

So Jack did all that.

Well, Cas helped. It's a big new world out there. You'll see.

So, I guess Cas made it out of the Empty? Dean smiles at that, but doesn't suggest finding him or anything. I approve. Bobby pulls out a couple of beers (the green cooler made it into Heaven!!!) and they share some bad beer. Dean comments that Heaven is "almost perfect," and Bobby knows EXACTLY what's missing, because of course he does. "He'll be along. Time up here, it's different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?" Well, Dean doesn't have everything he could ever want or need, but he does see one thing - Baby. With her Kansas plates! Friends, that's two things I requested before the end that I didn't think I would ever see: a forehead touch, and Baby wearing her original plates. Thank you, Jack.

Dean's face lights up. "I think I'll go for a drive." As he walks to his car, we see the cabin is actually Harvelle's Roadhouse, albeit smaller, I think. Dean settles into his car and says "Hey, Baby" and when he turns her on, "Carry On Wayward Son" begins to play.

I know he looks good in Purgatory, but DAMN if he don't look fine in Heaven, too.

We cut to the name Dean, which is embroidered on - a little boy's overalls. Sam's little boy. Oh, wow. I was not prepared for this. Sam has a son named Dean, and we switch back and forth between Dean driving through Heaven and scenes of Sam's life with his son and his mysterious, barely-seen wife. She has long dark hair, and I'd like to point out that she could easily be either Eileen or Dr. Cara Roberts. Just saying. Sam's house is full of family photos, including the one of him and Dean from his memory box and a new one from the episode Lebanon. I never thought about the fact that they might have actually taken a photo, and if they did, would it still be around after Sam smashed the pearl? Well, obviously, yes. We see Sam throwing a ball with his son, helping him with his homework (Sam in glasses? Check!) and just obviously really loving this kid and giving him the childhood he never had. We also see a really, really unfortunate grey wig that I refuse to screencap. You're welcome. As aging Sam sits in the hundred-year-old car in his garage, his dead brother drives happily along dirt roads in Heaven, and I'd prefer my Heaven have paved roads, thanks.

We end in Sam's house, now complete with hospital bed. Sam could be in his 80s or even 90s, which means he could have lived another 50 years, more or less, after Dean died. His son doesn't look any older than his 20s or 30s (and also looks vaguely South Asian to me), and I wonder how old Sam was when he finally let himself have a family. Remember when Dean said his happy ending was for Sam to have kids and get old? Well, he got it, finally. Did Sam get a regular job? Did he keep hunting? We don't know. What we do know is that his son has a anti-possession tattoo. Some people have taken this to mean young Dean is a hunter, but I don't think we can jump to that conclusion. It could just be 1) Dean wanted a tattoo like his father's, or b) Sam knows there are still demons out there and that his son would naturally be a target, hunter or not.

All right, I had to screencap teary-eyed Sam grasping the steering wheel and reliving his years with his brother in this car, so we can just pretend we don't see The Wig, okay?

Sam's evidently in hospice care. Or maybe we'll all have hospital beds in our houses in 50 years. Who knows. His son sits on the bed and takes his hand. Sam smiles at him, and Dean says "Dad, it's okay. You can go now." PARALLELLS! As some woman sings "Carry On Wayward Son" for whatever reason (why didn't they use the lovely a cappella version they already had from Fan Fiction?), Sam places his hand on Dean's and takes his last breath.

{Sidebar: Where is Sam's wife in all of this? Divorced? Already dead? She doesn't seem to be in the family pictures, so I'm going with divorced. Discuss.}

Heaven. Oh, guys. I've done this rewatch without tearing up at all but I'm about to tip over. The Impala pulls onto a bridge. Dean gets out. (Now your life's no longer empty, surely Heaven waits for you.) He stands at the bridge railing, enjoying Heaven, smiling. And then he feels something and he smiles even more because he knows it's Sam. Oh god, Jensen did such a good job here. Just this fucking smile killed me dead. "Hey, Sammy," he says. He turns and there is Sam, wearing the same outfit he wore in 1.01 (they both are, but Sam's is a bigger departure from his later years). Why? I don't know. But I know it means Sam Winchester is spending eternity in something that isn't a plaid shirt. How do we feel about that?

"Dean," Sam says. They face each other and smile, and it's the smile of we just survived a hunt I didn't think we'd survive or our son just overpowered God or something along those lines. Then they embrace, and I love the way Sam hesitates just a little before clapping a hand on Dean's back. Like he's afraid it isn't really happening, and he doesn't want to break the illusion. I also love that Dean, as always, takes the top (oh, get your minds out of the gutter) and hugs as if he were taller than Sam. Then Dean puts his hand on the back of Sam's neck and turns him to admire the view and he has this joyous smile like now, this is FINALLY Heaven. And he gazes at Sam like look, Sammy, look what we did. Look what we get. The lack of dialog in this scene is just ~chef's kiss~. The camera goes wide and we see the three main characters, Sam and Dean and Baby, enjoying the Heaven they deserve.

I would like to know where they filmed this, because it's gorgeous even without the Winchesters.

Did Sam's entire life go by in the span of Dean's drive? Or did Dean just decide he'd drive until his brother arrived, no matter how long it took? And how much do I love the fact that he could have gone and visited his parents but instead he said "nah, I'll drive around and wait for Sam?" SO MUCH, PEOPLE. SO MUCH.

Also, can we talk about the fact that Sam didn't know what to expect in Heaven? I mean, Ash said they were soulmates and would share a Heaven, but why would he believe that? And he might have even still believed he'd have a hard time getting into Heaven. What a relief it must have been to show up on Dean's bridge.

And then Jared and Jensen thank us. You're welcome, boys. Thank you.

So. Thursday night I was mildly positive about the episode. But on rewatch, I'm extremely positive. Sure, I would have loved the Six Feet Under ending where we see everyone's fate. And maybe that would have happened if not for Covid. But I'm just relieved we didn't get the Game of Thrones or How I Met Your Mother endings. I'm not sure this current cohort could have done better, honestly. Sam wanted a normal family life. Dean wanted Sam to have a normal family life. But Sam was never going to stop hunting as long as Dean was hunting. And Dean wasn't going to stop hunting as long as he was alive. Dean got the end he wanted/expected and the Heaven he earned (and Sam caring for Jack was directly responsible for Heaven's improvements). Sam got to live a normal life and have a family. As I said earlier, I suspect his marriage didn't last. (Or maybe he and Eileen or Cara got married for insurance purposes, and happily co-parented little Dean, but knew they weren't each other's one true love.) But I actually prefer that. Dean loved Sam more than he loved anyone. Sam loved Dean the same way. I'm glad Sam got to have a child (who he loves as much as his brother, but in a different way), but I don't want Sam and Dean to share their Heaven with Sam's wife.

Now, would I have done Dean's death differently? Yes. I did appreciate that they had him upright, so the brothers were face to face, just like AHBL. But being impaled on a spike was just less dramatic that I would have liked. I would have preferred that Sam immediately see his brother was dying, instead of Dean having to explain it to him. Dean could have had his jugular torn, slowly bleeding out, and still been on his knees (held up by Sam, hell yes) making his deathbed speech. And then I wouldn't have thought "would an ambulance be here by now if you'd called them?" halfway through it.

{Sidebar: What if Sam had fed Dean some blood from one of the dead vamps. Wouldn't that have kept him undead long enough to get fixed up, and then they could have done the vampire cure? Discuss.}

I know some people are very unhappy about the finale. Honestly, from what I can tell, most of those people are hard-core Destiel shippers. And I guess they wanted, as they always do, for the Dean and Castiel relationship to be more important than the Dean and Sam relationship. Sorry, guys, that was never gonna happen. In the end, it came down to the epic love story of Sam and Dean, just as it should have.

So, I'm sad and I'm happy. I'm bereft and I'm full. I miss my boys, but my boys will always be with me. I hope you guys will be with me for a long time, too.

[seostudios]

happy without me: all about luv - h.rj

ALL ABOUT LUV ‣ HAPPY WITHOUT ME

just face it, she’s happy without you. but i don’t believe it, is she really?

paring: huang renjun x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.5k

info: exes to lovers!au, non-idol!au, college!au, cousin!jaemin

warnings: sensitive themes, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, toxic relationship, mention of rape and sexual assault, sexual assault, explicit/vulgar language 

tag list: @jenotation @luvlyjaemin @woofie-nctzen-fanarts-320 @tzuqui @sunnyrenjunnie @nino7011 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @minhehe @chrspychan @jimelonji @mykokorobeats4u @aminihhj @jeonjungkat @wishfulldreamss @ilymarkchan @ja3hy4n @beautifulbakerycookiegiant @jisungiepwark52 @sharamanne @commentgirl @littlefluu @chicksung​ @lixseu​ @jenosgirlllll​

a/n: i’m sorry this is so short i did renjun dirty :( i got writers block writing it but it’s ok! ill do better on the next one which is chenle or jeno (prolly jeno) i gotta chekc but yay finally part 2 to all about luv

APRIL IN JEJU

It's been 7 months since you've parted ways with your first love. You two were the supposed high school sweethearts of your year so it confused most of the other students when they found out. Renjun and you were meant for one another but the fact he decided on attending SKKU since had received a scholarship for his outstanding academic records, he couldn't turn down the offer and was determined on enrolling however you were attending Cheju Halla University which was all the way in Jeju City. That was a 55-minute plane ride away from Renjun! Avoiding the future relationship problems to come from long-distance you two would most likely face, the breakup was mutual and you two parted ways at the airport indulging in a rather pitiful hug.

Here you were, walking through the Department of Equine Science, trailing behind your friends Soomin and Mina. It was the first time you decided to skip class and it was thrilling in your opinion, "Come on, they're waiting!" Soomin whisper-yelled. They?

You make sure to ask her who 'they' were since you and Mina weren't standing dumbfounded and possibly in trouble. "The volleyball team dummy," Soomin says skipping to past the classrooms into Gym A. It brought you back to the old times, visiting Renjun during Soccer practice, making sure he's well-fed and not overworked. Quickly snapping out of it you join the girls on the bleachers to cheer on the boys. Although you are able to tell people you've moved on from your first love, you've spent restless nights looking back at your messages, pictures just reminiscing the past.

The butterflies he's caused you still flutter every now and then hoping their commotion was heard and you've finally made the big move back to Seoul but sadly you haven't gotten up and gone yet.

Tonight you were preparing for a mini-quiz, it so happened that Mina shared the class with you. Scheduling a sleepover at Soomin's place here you all are sitting in her living room stuffing your faces with whatever salty and sweet treats her mom had bought. "Oh. My. God." Mina tells you after reading your DM request on Instagram, "What?" you ask confused over what she thought was so extraordinary. She motions Soomin to look at your earning a surprised what the fuck from the girl. "Min-fucking-Ho wants to DM you... He's like one of the hottest guys in our division and has never been seen with a girl so wanting to text you definitely a what the fuck moment. You shake your head before opening the DM request..."He's asking me out for dinner?" You say which Soomin demands you to accept the offer before he moves on. "You've gotta move on from Renjun you know? He won't come by swooping you by the legs asking you for his hand in marriage. He's all the way in Seoul Y/n, I'm pretty sure he's moved on by now with someone else it's time you do too. Now hand e your phone so I can tell him you want to go on that date." Mina tells you after you attempt to reject Minho. She gave you the truth even if it hurt (a lot), you sigh in defeat handing over your phone.

"Can't believe you're going on a date with Minho," Soomin says watching Mina type away. "I know right, lucky girl" Mina replies as you nod. 

APRIL IN SEOUL

Meanwhile, at SKKU Renjun's majoring in Arts & humanities. Languages, Literature & Linguistics which has been taking up most of his time keeping his mind off his recent split. He was devastated the first week but had to obviously push it aside if he wanted extraordinary marks just like in high school, even if he wanted his thoughts to be occupied with your figure in his head he simply couldn't know his classes were paying attention to him along with the other honor students that attended on a scholarship.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jeno, Renjun's only friend at Sungkyunkwan asked. He's got to know Renjun for who he was today but he's never really opened up about his life before University. Jeno noticed Renjun staring at your recent Instagram post for a little too long to not think you were at least flirting in direct messages. "No," He said quick and panicky before shoving his phone back into his pocket, after relaxing he turns to Jeno. "She's my ex, we broke up 7 months ago." Jeno's mouth goes agape momentarily in realization, "Why? If you don't mind me asking..." He asked the smaller boy beside him. "She went to Jeju for University when SKKU was just a 20-minute train ride from our neighborhood," Renjun replied with a scoff recollecting the memory of the day you told him you got accepted into Cheju Halla. Jeno nods understandingly deciding to continue studying instead of riling him up.

JULY IN JEJU

A full three months have passed and you were still in the first place you were in back in April, heartbroken. Although a lot of things have drastically changed since April it had only made you feel worse about yourself. For starters, you've been 'dating' Minho since April even if you realized on the first date he had only wanted you to fulfil his sexual desires. He's strung his act long enough and you've tried breaking up with the boy for a month now but he won't let you, he's always threatening you "I'll tell the school what type of whore you are."  or something about inflicting pain on someone close to you like Soomin or Mina, which is why you've kept quiet for about the last three weeks.

You were in pulled harshly by the arm by Minho as he pulled you into the supply closet of the Gymnasium, “Minho, I don’t want you to touch me there,” You politely ask the boy who’s currently taking advantage of his supposed spouse. “I don’t even want to date you! Why do you keep acting like this- Let go!” You whisper-yell to Minho who’s trailing his hands up and in between your thighs. "Shut up," He simply tells you before snaking his hand to your mouth shutting you up as you let out a choked cry.

JULY IN SEOUL

"She looks so happy with that Minho, right?” Renjun asked Jeno, scrolling through your tagged post. “I mean from what we know yeah,” He tells him. Renjun sighs, he knew he would genuinely be happy for you if you moved on but it had seemed rather quick. "It's almost been a year, she's moved on. Why don't you?" Jeno asked innocently. Renjun had a gut feeling of some sort; telling him not to move on and instead of ignoring it like you (which brought you nowhere since you're still deeply in love with him) did he's just kept a close eye on you. Shaking his head no he tells Jeno, "Something isn't right about.." He lifts the  phone to the photo of you and Minho, Mina had tagged you in, "That."

DECEMBER IN JEJU

"I promise I'll text you, I just need to get off this freaking island for winter break at least." You tell Mina and Soomin on Face-time, "Okay we will miss you! How did Minho take this? It's your first Christmas together and you leave?" She asked worriedly. You mumble a fuck before looking at the camera. "I didn't tell him," You say earning gasps from the two. "He's your boyfriend though.." Soomin said; "Who doesn't treat me like a fucking human being." Your words were strong, rippling a wave of awkwardness, "I'm fine by the way I’m staying with my cousin Jaemin, but if I don't come back it’s cause he spoilt me into staying."

DECEMBER IN SEOUL

"Merry Almost Christmas!" Renjun screeches before entering his shared apart with his new friend group, Jeno had introduced Renjun to his best pal, Jaemin and Renjun had taken in a very lonely Haechan later introducing him to the two. Today they were all celebrating their first Christmas together with a classic holiday film and cupcakes every day until Christmas.

"Guys we have a guest today!" Jaemin sings opening the door widely to show a shorter girl beside the boy with a suitcase in hand.

"What are you doing here?" Renjun and you said simultaneously as you locked eye contact. "I'm visiting Jaemin, my cousin." You tell him hands moving into the air to point towards the boy, "I am Jaemin's roommate." He responded before getting up from the couch brushing off the crumbs off his lap before walking towards the door to stand in front of you. He hadn't grown any taller still rocking his tiny 5'7 figure, but tall enough to tower over you, who hadn't grown since freshman year.

"She's here." Jeno tells Renjun who's head is under the pillow, "She's here." Jeno repeats, "She's here, She's here," Renjun whispered to himself taking it all in. He always wished for you to get off the fucking island go back into his arms, transferring to SKKU, knowing you had the skill to land a spot without hesitation, but finally seeing you after 10 months of no contact was frightening to him. Why did you seem so brittle? You looked pained, it wasn't his job to care about you anymore, but he couldn't help himself. He loved you more than himself and there's a (humongous) chunk of him that still did. Renjun gets up and sits crisscrossed on the single bed across from Jeno's bed where he was idling on his phone laying down "She's here but she's not here." He said which caught Jeno's attention, his face wrinkling in confusion. "She's not okay, something's wrong. I know it," He finishes getting up to walk out to you- who's catching up with Jaemin in the kitchen while preparing for dinner, stopping immediately as a rush of nerves came over him telling him to stop.

"Hope you boys like Hotteok!" You said facing Jeno and Haechan who were smiling in awe of your cooking skills, "I know Injun and Jaems like it so I made it tonight." You cheerfully smile towards the other two boys. “Glad to see you remembered,” It took a lot for Renjun to even say a sentence to you without having a gaze on you for a little too long afterwards.

It was his chance, he walked out of the bedroom the moment he saw you walk by his door towards the guest room. "Can I come in?" He asked. "Of course Injun," You couldn't believe yourself, being so calm and comfortable with all the tension. Had it really been ten months? He thought to himself as he sat beside you on the bed. "So," He rubbed his thighs nervously "How've you been?" Horrible. You stare down at the carpet admiring it while you figure a way to lie to the boy who knew you better than you knew yourself. "Fine,  I've been..." You sigh avoiding eye contact, "Fine." He looks at you concerned, "You can't lie to me Y/n." Grabbing your hand caressing it for a second knowing it relaxed you a bit in tough scenarios. Suddenly your phone began to ring, grabbing to read the caller id. "Oh, should I go?" Renjun asked after reading the contact name 'Minho' "No!" You shouted quickly grabbed his wrist pulling him back down before he walked out. Declining the call you spoke, "I'd talk to you over anyone any day." Damn, when did I get so smooth You mentally note that smirking to yourself slightly watching as Renjun bursted into a frenzy of laughter, "Smooth," He comments.

"So, was that Minho guy...your boyfriend?" He asked in which you replied with a strong No. "Well," You started "A boyfriend is someone who listens to me someone who values my opinions and beliefs. Someone who is truly interested in what you enjoy doing, or what you like most in life and interested in who I am as a person." You pause to see him grab you hand intertwining your hand, quickly signalling you to continue. "Someone who makes me laugh, or trusts me. But more importantly, disrespect me and force me into," Tears collected in your eyes threatening to fall, "Things." Renjun knows what to do to comfort you quickly pulling you into his embrace, melting when you wrap around him, head in the crook of his neck sobbing quietly. "He made me do things Renjun-ah. Horrible things. I hate him so much, I can't break up with him. Figured running away would've been a better option." He strokes your hair telling you it's okay and to relax. He couldn't help but smile though; he was right. He knew, he knew something was off and made it his number one priority to find out what it was, who would've known you would open up and make your first actual conversation with your ex- whom you dated for a nearly all of senior year about the toxic relationship you found yourself in after him.

JANUARY IN SEOUL

"I got to leave tomorrow." You told Renjun, whom you rekindled an old flame with over your stay. C

"Do you think about me sometimes? 'Cause I think about you sometimes" You asked Renjun looking at him from the mirror, as he watched you do your hair for an outing with your cousin. After that night in your bedroom, you decided on hanging out more and became close friends once more. But the butterflies in your stomach didn't leave, instead, they emitted flying more enthusiastically near him, with him. "I don't think about you sometimes 'Cause I think about you all the time," He said, which made you look down to the floor before turning around to face him. "It made me so jealous knowing you were so far away with that disgusting bastard happy without me" He grabs your hand; which you intertwine your fingers with happily a smile dancing upon your lips watching him reciprocate it.

"Stay." He tells you. You cuddle into his embrace as he caressed the top of your head. The two of your legs entangled under the sheets having one of your midnight talks. "You know I can't," You start quickly zipping your mouth not wanting to go any further, "Students who have outstanding academic records, or who have financial difficulties, who have submitted a complete scholarship application," Renjun said, which just made your jaw drop. Did he do his research?  "You can still enroll for the second semester which starts in two weeks. Have your friends send your belongings." He finished watching as you lifted yourself up resting your head in your palm. "Really?" You asked, breath taken away to say more. Could you really live here in Seoul? With Renjun? "Yes, I can kick Jeno into the guest room while we can have this room all to ourselves." He kissed the top of your hand watching the cheeky smile erupt from you with giggles. "We can be together." You said- asked to yourself, "We can be together" Renjun tells you before pulling you back. 

[xaphrin]

Part One - Also, this got WILDLY out of control, and somehow became a real fic, and WHY DO YOU ALL DO THIS TO ME??? (I love you)

- - - 

“Miss Roth.” 

Raven picked up her head from the spreadsheet she was working on as the low, dangerous voice of the company CEO rumbled through her whole body. She swallowed hard, and she could practically feel the eyes of the other accountants poke their heads out of their offices to stare at their new coworker, and to gawk at the spectacle. Some of the younger woman whispered to each other behind their hands. Their CEO, after all, was usually the topic of gossip and conversation in the break room. I wouldn’t mind getting called into the office by him. I bet he comes down hard on you when you’ve been… bad. But looking at his ass is worth it. 

Not that Raven blamed them for talking. Damian was attractive, even if he was her best friend’s little brother. Her breath caught in her chest as he stepped into her small, windowless office, his face dark and unreadable. It felt like he took up the whole space, and he glanced around the room, eyes falling on the fake plant she kept in the corner. 

He frowned and met her stare again. “I need to see you in my office, Miss Roth.” 

She scrambled for a pen and paper. “Of course, sir. I’m finishing a few things right now, and I can be there in just a few-”

“Now, Miss Roth. Get your files together, I need to discuss a few things with you and it cannot wait.” His voice rumbled like a warning as he moved out of her office and made his way down the hallway. 

Hurrying, Raven gathered a file from a locked drawer in the bottom of her desk and followed him to the elevator, feeling even more eyes poke out of their offices at her. God, she must have looked like some freakshow for them - the new girl getting picked on by the CEO. She ducked her head and chased after him, two of her steps matched one of his own. This was embarrassing. She was going to have to have a candid conversation with him about the proper way to get her into his office. Or, at the very least, start meeting with him after hours. 

Raven waited until the doors had closed and Damian had entered in the code for the elevator to take them to his office before she spoke. “People are going to start gossiping if you keep doing that.” She sighed and lifted her eyes to his own, lips quirking to the side. “You could have just as easily sent me an email, you know.”

“And what was I supposed to say in the email, Raven?” He smirked at her, eyes still dark, but with a hint of playfulness coloring them. “I need you to come into my office right away? I’ve had an absolutely abhorrent day and the only thing that can make it better is eating you out on my desk like you’re lunch?”  

Oh. That’s what this was about. She swallowed again as heat curled up her neck, and her body tightened in a rush of excitement. Just the promise of his mouth between her thighs made her feel like she would drop her panties right here in the elevator. She certainly wasn’t above it. Just last week he’d locked them both in a supply closet and teased her with his fingers until she came - twice. He was insatiable. Not that she minded. 

Raven tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and she met his stare, trying to keep her face blank. If Damian caught on that she was just as excited about this as he was, then he would never let her live it down. “Is that what this was about? I thought you wanted to discuss the special project you had me working on.”

“I do, actually.” He cocked his head to the side as he stared at her, the hint of a teasing smirk still playing at the edges of his lips. “But lunch first.” 

The doors opened to his floor - empty of anyone. He had yet to get a personal assistant, and scoffed at the idea of a secretary. So, his floor was always so quiet. He walked down the hall and led her into his office, closing and locking the door behind them. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she knew that Damian could probably see how flushed she was and how her hands were shaking. 

This… tryst between them had been going on for weeks now, since Damian had whisked her away from the party and fucked her senseless in his office. He had gone back to the party looking as pressed and polished as though nothing had happened while they were away for a suspicious length of time. Meanwhile, Raven looked practically haggard, her hair a mess and her clothes wrinkled, with a careless, wistful smile on her face. Just thinking about their first time left her breathless and desperate. She had gotten smarter about their rendezvous since then, but every now and again she still got a bit careless. 

Her eyes darted down to Damian’s tight, well-defined ass, and she wondered how beautiful it would look when he was pounding into her, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her face darkened and she swallowed another breath. She had a feeling she was going to be very careless today. 

Raven set the file on the edge of the table next to his desk and she looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “And what would you like from me?”

Damian sat down in his desk chair and stared at her. There was a long pause as he seemed to drink her in, trying to memorize every shape and curve of her body. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, but with all the weight of an undefiable command. “Undress. Slowly.” 

Raven’s shaking hands moved to her prim button-down and unfastened the buttons, pausing between each one, and pulling out the tails of her shirt. Across the room, she saw Damian sitting behind his desk, leaning forward as he watched her with rapt attention. Other than the shadows in his eyes, he looked just as unreadable as always, but Raven knew better. He was holding himself back, trying to keep himself from throwing her on the desk and taking her with wild abandon. Which had happened last time they had one of their unscheduled… meetings. 

She pulled the shirt off of her before moving to the zipper on her pencil skirt, pulling it down slowly. Damian’s eyes swept down the length of her, lifting an eyebrow. “Are those new?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I needed new ones after you tore two pairs.” 

Damian looked unrepentant, and smirked. “They were in the way. So, if you want to save that pair, I would take them off now.” 

Raven unfastened her bra and set it with the rest of her clothes. “You could just be nicer to my things.”

“I could.” He shrugged. “Or you could start not wearing anything at all. It certainly would make things easier.”

“Absolutely not.” If she did that, she’d never leave his office, and neither of them would get any work done. As fun as all of this was, they still had a job to do. Her fingers hooked in her underwear and she slid them down her legs, leaving them with the rest of her clothes. She stood naked in front of him, a soft flush working down her entire body. He’d seen her fully unclothed several times before, but he still looked at her like it was the first time - that she was just as beautiful now as she had been then. 

“Come here.” 

Raven swallowed and approached the other side of his desk, standing next to him.

“Up.” 

She crawled up onto the desk, turning to face him, and Damian spread her legs so that they rested on either arm of his chair. She was spread wide for him and him alone, and it made her feel both powerful and vulnerable, like she could command him if she wanted, but was still beholden to his own demands. He circled her clit with his thumb and Raven twitched, a soft sound of excitement escaping. She knew that Damian would be careful, and he definitely wouldn’t let her walk away without making sure she was satisfied, but he was going to take all afternoon to get her there. 

He lifted his eyes to her own before kissing up the inside of her calf to her knee. “You look anxious.” He nipped at the inside of her knee and dragged his fingertips down the length of her legs. “Like your mind is somewhere else.”

“I have a report due to you by the end of the day.” She said, glancing down at him as he curled his tongue against a small scar on the inside of her thigh. “If I don’t finish it this afternoon, I’m going to have to stay late.”

“I’ll give you an extension.” He paused and spread her thighs wider, dragging her hips to the edge of his desk. “But, for posterity’s sake, why don’t you give me the overview now.” His mouth found a tender spot near the crease of her hip, and he sucked on the skin, likely leaving a mark. 

“L-like this?” Her voice shivered as his thumb circled her clit again. 

“I can multitask.” Damian met her eyes for just a moment before he dipped his mouth to her, flicking his tongue over her clit while his fingers explored her. He pulled back a scant few inches and smirked. “Can’t you?”

Not while he was giving her the best head of her life. No, not really. His tongue flicked over her clit again, and she sunk her teeth into her lower lip, trying to keep a scream from escaping. Her hips shifted and she buried a hand in his hair, uncertain what she should do. 

“After the industry strike was resolved in Germany, the production costs went up.” Her head fell back against her shoulders and she gasped as Damian wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it so hard that she was seeing stars. She was going to come in seconds if he felt his up. “Which was expected. However, since we were already paying well above the union wage, our public image actually improved.” 

He curled his fingers against her, rubbing against a spot that had her writhing against his mouth. Damian reached up her body to tease a nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Electricity snapped over her skin, and Raven could feel every muscle in her tighten, readying her for the kind of orgasm that would knock her senseless. How in the world was she supposed to go back to work after this?

“The consumer confidence in Wayne Industries has grown exponentially since then, not only with Germany, but with the rest of the EU.” 

He sucked harder on her clit and Raven fell back against his desk, her head tipping over the other side as she knocked his name plate and a stack of papers off his desk. Damian leaned forward and hooked her thighs over his shoulders, his mouth relentless and his fingers utterly ruthless as he continued to pleasure her. 

“With that uptick in consumer confidence and increase in profits, we should reinvest our funds and the Wayne brand into civic and philanthropic projects. Fuck.” Raven’s back arched as he spread her legs wider, his tongue dragging up the length of her. He spelled out his name against her clit in double time, before wrapping his lips around her again. She was so close. She was going to come hard, and he had to catch her or Raven felt like she would fall into oblivion and never find her way back. 

“Doing that would increase our name recognition as well as offer opportunities to build a larger base of consumers in the EU.” She gasped as her muscles started to tighten again. “Oh, God.” Her fingers tightened in his hair and she pushed her hips up into his mouth, feeling her orgasm start to build just below her navel before snapping to her clit. “Which could increase profits and revenue in the EU to roughly 169% of its current amount over the next five years, and oh my god can I please come?” 

His flick of his tongue pushed her over the edge and Raven nearly pulled his hair out as she practically rode his face through wave after wave of pleasure. Damian never let her leave unsatisfied, but today it felt like he was trying to utterly destroy her. It felt like her skin was on fire and she tumbled through different worlds and dimensions, colors exploding as he continued to lap up every bit of her. She sagged against the hard wood of his desk before lifting her eyes to find the soft afternoon light filtering in through the window. She sighed in contentment and let her hand fall to the side. 

“If we choose to wait to make these decisions, our brand exposure will fall.”

Damian kissed along the inside of her thigh, his eyes meeting her own. “What would be the projected growth over five years if we didn’t invest in the projects?”

“Only 45% over five years.” Raven pushed at her hair and closed her eyes, every muscle in her body melting into the woodgrain of the desk. “Which is better that we make decisions now. Even a small decision, like supporting a new wing of the library in Munich would net us 10% growth this quarter alone. Larger decisions change that exponentially.”

“Mm.” Damian stood up and leaned over her, smirking. He made a show of licking his lips, as though he had just devoured something delicious. “Lunch was very informative. And tasted amazing.” 

Raven lifted an eyelid before closing it, her head rolling to the side. “I can’t go back to work like this. I’m exhausted.” 

“If you want to lay naked on my desk all afternoon, I certainly wouldn’t complain.” His fingers were parting her again, tracing the length of her and circling her too-sensitive clit. He pulled his hand away and gave an almost-soft smile. “You can rest a few minutes on the sofa. If I keep you away for too long, your department is going to gossip like old church biddies.” 

“You know about that?” Raven flushed and sat up, looking at him. 

“Of course I do. I also know they talk about my ass all the time.” He snorted and leaned up to steal a kiss from her, and Raven could taste her flavor still clinging to his lips. She sighed and moved her fingers to his tie, loosening the knot. Damian smirked against her mouth and pulled away. “I have a conference call in a few minutes. I didn’t know you were going to take so long to come, otherwise I wouldn’t have scheduled it so close to… lunchtime.”

“I couldn’t focus when you were making me remember what my report said to you. Otherwise I probably would have come instantly.” She paused. “You’re too good at this.” 

“You’re very responsive. You make it easy to make you come.” He kissed down her neck, pausing to flick his tongue against her pulse. 

Raven slid off the desk, settling her hands on either arm of his chair, and leaned forward. “I could pay you back.”

His face turned blank, which she knew was an indication that he was seriously considering it. Excitement bubbled through her as she realized she was about to be so very careless, but the thought of him fighting back his low, wanton moans as she wrapped her mouth around his thick cock… she shivered. It was one thing to have him send her to the stars, but it was far more intoxicating to know she had that same power over him. His lips twitched as though he was thinking of a reason not to, but Raven made the decision for him anyway. 

She glanced at the clock behind him before she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands resting against his belt buckle. God, he looked amazing like this. As weak and vulnerable as she had felt to him. His thick cock was pressing against the neatly-pressed wool of his trousers, and she unfastened the belt buckle before unzipping his fly and letting his cock spring free. 

“Your meeting starts soon, Mister Wayne.” Raven opened her mouth and swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, watching his head fall back against the soft leather of his chair. “I’d hate for you to miss it.”

“You’re a tease.”

“You’re the one with a crush on me.” She wrapped her hand around the length of him, pumping slowly, trying to draw the sensation out. 

Damian lifted an eyebrow. “And you don’t have a crush on me?”

“I never said that.” She flicked the slit on the head of his cock with her tongue and he moaned, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair so hard he left marks. He was almost gasping, each breath straining the buttons on his shirt. Heavens, that was a sight to behold. If he wasn’t such a massive beefcake, he wouldn’t constantly look like he was about to bust out of his clothing. Raven pumped his erection again, meeting his stare.

“So… you do have a crush on me?” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve never told me.”

“Since you kissed me like the world was ending.” She ran the tip of her tongue up the underside of his cock, fascinated with the sudden shadows in his eyes. “Since you pulled me into this exact office during a party and confessed your feelings to me. Since you made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. Yes… I have a crush on you.” Her hand tightened around the length of him. “I thought that was obvious. I wouldn’t be crawling under the desk of just any CEO to give him head.”

There was a long pause as Damian seemed to mull something over in his head, and Raven continued to explore him with the tip of her tongue. Finally, he curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards him. “How about boyfriends? Do you have many boyfriends you crawl under desks and give head to?”

She blinked and pulled back, cheeks flushing. “I don’t have one of those.”

“Mm.” He paused. “You do now.”

Raven’s heart pounded in her ears, and it felt like the floor dissolved under her feet. Was he suggesting that they were… dating? “I… have a boyfriend?”

“If you want one.” Damian glanced away, and Raven could see the tips of his ears turn pink. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If you’d prefer to keep our relationship more casual, I understand. I wouldn’t want you to feel like I talked you into anything you weren’t ready for.”

“I need time… to think about it, I mean.” Raven wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about it, but it felt different to be dating the CEO of the company she worked for. It didn’t matter that she had known him for years, and it didn’t matter that she had feelings for him, it was… complicated. 

Sex was easy, especially when he was so damn good at it, but relationships were complicated and messy. And what would happen if things didn’t end well? Or worse, what would happen if things went too well? What would happen if she fell in love with him? Damian was handsome and powerful and he could have anyone he wanted - models, actresses, other heiresses to corporations. Royalty, if he was bold enough. So, it went without saying that it would be inevitable that he was going to get bored of girl who liked things like high fantasy novels and consistent, logical numbers. And if Raven fell in love with him, she knew her heart would break irreparably. It was inevitable. 

Panic filled her chest and Raven stared down at his massive cock, suddenly uncertain of exactly what she was doing. 

Fucking was easy. 

This was not. 

“Get dressed.” Damian pulled away from her, obviously sensing the tension inside her. He tucked his cock back into his trousers and stood up, helping her to her feet. His thumb rubbed a circle over the back of her hand, and his eyes traced her face for a moment before he let go. “I’ve got my meeting in a few minutes and you should get back to your office before the rest of the accounting staff thinks you’ve been handed a pink slip. Thank you for the update on the markets in the EU. They were informative, but I look for your full report by Friday.”

“Of course.” Raven could sense the tenseness in him, but she didn’t want to address it. The awkwardness felt like a kind of punishment she needed to endure for being suddenly unsure of their relationship. She made her way to the pile of clothes on the floor and started re-dressing herself. “And in regards to the other project you have me on?”

“I’ll read through your file and return it to you tomorrow.” He picked up the things Raven had knocked off his desk, and sat back down in his chair, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Thank you.”

His words felt warm and yet distant at the same time, and it hurt Raven more than she expected. Like their interaction was transactional, and yet somehow still meant something to him. Confusion swirled in the back of her head, clouding her thoughts and making her feel like something inside her was broken. She quickly re-buttoned her shirt and looked in the mirror to fix her hair, waiting for him to say something - anything - else. But he stayed quiet, even as Raven snuck out the door and walked down the long, empty hallway.

She called the elevator and went back down to her floor, trying to forget this ever happened.   

[angrypixie-sarisa]

Diez pasos hacía ti

Piedras rodantes pt. 20

Sam xMexican!Witch!fem!readerx Dean (polyamorous)

Summary: Lisa and Ben are away for the weekend. So instead of waiting fro them, bored, you and Dean decide to spend the weekend in a better way. which included alcohol, dancing and your latinx coven.

Songs in the fic, by order of appearance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pb_zkAWVX2k , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MP_CeJ6OqLw , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9-Bcyz_hZ0

“Dean, stop!” You laughed out loud as he kept making funny faces at you. 

“Seriously…Fuck you….” You said between laughter. “I’m trying to talk her!” 

Your belly started to hurt already. You and Dean were drunk; you were wasted, big time. Lisa and Ben went to the grandparents’ house and you both thought that there was a better way to spend the weekend than waiting for them to come back and see that movie you all wanted to see. So, you both decided to drink together, at your house. You were already a little bit drunk, but then you started making each other laugh, making you feel even drunker. 

“Dean! Calmate, puta madre!” You cupped his face to stop him from making even more faces at you. You caught him with his tongue stuck out. You two looked at each other’s eyes before he laughed and with the laugh came some spit out saliva that landed on your face. 

“Oh my God!” You both laughed and retrieved your hands to clean your face. Meanwhile, Dean was stomping his hand in the table, laughing his ass out. 

“I’m sorry!”

“You spat at me.” 

“I’m sorry!”

“¡Me pinches escupiste, no mames!” But you weren’t even mad, you were laughing as well. 

“Why…” he laughed again, before taking a sip of his beer, as if it would help him calm down. 

“Why were we even making faces?” 

You shrugged, trying not to laugh again and taking a sip of your beer again. You ate some popcorn and coexisted in silence for a while, trying to calm yourselves. 

You got a text from Diego asking if you wanted to hang out. You, of course, told him yes and told him to bring everyone else as well as some vodka and several flavors of soda to mix up some drinks. After answering his text, you looked at the hunter, who was eating absentmindedly looking at your wall as if it was the most interesting wall he had ever seen.

“Hey, did you know I can do a handstand?”

He immediately snapped his head towards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Bullshit.”

“Bet.”

“Okay, how much you wanna bet?” 

You leaned on your table, your face inches away from his as you looked into his eyes, while saying: “Twenty.”

He didn’t look away; he was so certain you couldn’t do it that he raised the bet.

“Thirty.” 

“Fifty.”

“I’ll tell you what, if you can do it for a minute straight, I’ll give you fifty and let you drive baby.” 

He saw your eyes sparkle with a red light before you accepted the bet.

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

You were in your living room, on your hands, legs raised above you and counting the seconds left for you to earn your money. You were walking with your hands for almost all your living room as Dean watched angry. He was losing the bet and that couldn’t happen. You had 15 seconds left. As you passed his leaning figure, his hand pushed your feet off balance, causing you to fall gracefully onto the floor. You gasped as you got up and went to confront him.

“Not fair, you pushed me.” 

He shrugged and took the last sip of his fifth beer. 

“It’s not my fault you fell before the minute was over.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. 

“Yeah, I wanna see you try buddy. I bet you couldn’t last over 10 seconds.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well prepare to be proven wrong.”

“Please, the floor is all yours.” You motioned with your hands at your entire living room. The couch was pushed against your window and the coffee table was against the far corner of the living room. 

“Ten seconds, if I win I get those fifty bucks and you teach me one of your most useful and complicated magic tricks.”

“They’re not magic tricks!” you stomped your foot. “But fine, I’ll teach you.”

He was already positioning himself, trying to copy what he saw you do. 

“Really?”

“Please, I said yes just because I know you won’t last 10 seconds.”

“Yeah, well prepare to be wrong. In one, two and three! Oh, fuck!” Just with that he fell onto the floor, his shoes making a loud bang as they made contact with the floor. With all the extra space in your living room, the bang echoed a little bit, but not for much as the space was filled with your cackling.

“Don’t laugh.” He poked your calve repeatedly as if that would make you stop laughing. Since that didn’t work, he then pulled your leg, making you fall onto the floor beside him. That didn’t stop you either; however it did make Dean laugh again.

Diego entered your kitchen from your supplies closet, followed by Tyler, Ximena and some of your other friends: Dario and Silvia. They were greeted by your very much drunk ass and a famous dangerous hunter drunk as well, laughing his ass off on the floor. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

You gasped. “Diegooo! Come give me a hug.” You lifted your arms in the air for him to take them. You were planning on dragging him with you on the floor, but he beat you as he pulled you onto your feet. When you made sure you had regained your balance, you gave him a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“You’re drunk! Why? You were supposed to wait for us.” Ximena whined. 

“I did. I only had one beer and one drink. I’m just drunk in laughter, I promise.”

“What about him?” Tyler asked as he helped Dean get up from the floor as well.

“Thanks man.” He patted him on the shoulder a little bit hard, making him lose his footing for a second.

“He’s barely drank anything, his drunk in laughter as well.” You giggled. 

“Alright, well sober up. You’re not partying without us, let us catch up.” Said Dario as Silvia came with two large glasses filled with water. She gave you one and Dean the other one. 

And they did indeed catch up with you. Next thing Dean knew, your living room had become a dance floor. He was drunk enough to not feel uncomfortable seeing you all dance to latinx music, but not drunk enough to join in. He was just watching from afar, seeing every dance move and close bodies. Then, his mind drifted into his teenage years and he thought he had never actually enjoyed them like this. Drinking with friends and laughing his ass off, that wasn’t him, let alone dance in a club. And he felt like he was already too old for that now. But then he thought of you and watched your figure be free to the music, become one with it and the dance floor, with your friends, it looked like you were meant to live in this moments and he never would dare to think you were too old for this. A dangerous thought crossed his mind. If he actually knew how to dance, specially this kind of music, he would try and integrate himself into the fun. Sadly, his reality was another one. He was okay watching from afar, strangely, it didn’t feel lonely. And of course, that didn’t stop you from dragging him into it, despite his protests. 

“Alivianate Winchester! Dancing is easy!” Worst part was Diego and Dario trying to teach him some moves that he didn’t master but weren’t too bad either, at everybody’s eyes at least. He felt like a fool. 

When he made an attempt to retrieve, you took his hand and dragged him back in. 

“Okay fine, maybe reggaeton it’s not your jam. Let’s change it.” You motioned for Silvia to change songs. One of your favorite cumbias started playing. Your eyes lit in excitement. 

She’s not letting me go, now. Dean thought.

“It’s easy. Move your hips, that’s it. And feel the song.” He watched as you moved your hips as well and passed his eyes through everyone else. The movements were repetitive and easy at plain sight, but he had a feeling that they were more difficult than what they seemed. 

“Ya lo ves, estoy tan loco por ti. Cuando te voy venir, no sé ni qué decir… Mi dulce niña! Tú eres mi vida, por tu sonrisa, por tu mirada linda!” Your hands were in his and you practically guided him. And he did it. He was dancing shyly, nonetheless he was dancing. You locked eyes at him and mouthed out “spin” to him. Without even thinking he spun you around and cut your hand again, letting go of some awkwardness and getting the hand of it. 

For the next couple of songs, you were already changing partners, everybody dancing with everybody, even Ximena and Silvia danced with you, to his surprise. 

“Si en una rosa estás tú, si en cada respirar estás tú, ¿cómo te voy a olvidar? ¿Cómo te voy a olvidar?” 

After that, you played a little bit of beer pong and diablo. Making you all drunker and drunker. The last round of diablo, you were cheering for Dean to win and not drink the last disgusting mix of drinks, the “Diablo”, but he lost towards Tyler, who was probably the worst in the game. He drowned the mix, which left a burning trail down his throat and at the pit of his stomach. 

“Fuck that’s poison.” He coughed and then laughed. He had never had so much fun in his life, not euphoric one at least.

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

As the night came almost to an end, everyone feeling tired but not enough to go to bed, Dario and Diego took out they’re guitars. Everybody was sitting in circles at your backyard, were you had conjured a bonfire and some wooden sits in a circle for everyone to sit in front of the fire. 

“Todos van a cantar, no quiero que me salgan con que les da pena. Se las voy a quitar de un putazo, ¿me escucharon?” You said, pointing everyone with your finger. They knew you were joking, mainly because you loved them so much they doubted you’ll actually hit them hard, and because nobody felt ashamed of singing. You all knew each other since a long time; there was no shame between you.

“What did she said?” Dean asked Tyler. 

“Everybody’s singing; that she doesn’t want to hear excuses such as “I’m ashamed”. If you say that, she’ll slap the shame out of you.” 

“You got all that?”

Tyler shrugged before leaning in, as if he was going to tell him a secret. “Diego made this spell for me to see subtitles of everything they say in Spanish. So that I can understand.” 

“Y/N, you wanna start?” 

Dean straightened himself before resting his forearms on his knees, looking at you. You were sitting beside him, looking through your playlist, deciding which song to sing. 

“Perenme, estoy buscando canciones de ardidas.” To that everybody laughed, except him because he didn’t know what you had said. He would definitely have a conversation with you about this spell. 

“Diez pasos hacía ti.” You said while placing your phone in your back pocket. 

Dean heard everyone approved and saw Silvia conjure a drum in front of her. They took a few tempting notes, remembering the song before starting playing. 

“La vida nos cruzó, de un modo muy casual. Llegaste como el sol, robándome la sombra de forma gradual. Cualquier fuga de luz sirvió como señal. Diez pasos hacia ti, mil dudas sobre mí y el miedo natural…” 

The hunters’ eyes sparkled subtlety. He didn’t know what you were saying, but damn you sounded beautiful. You sang so beautiful. He sneaked a glance towards you, not being aware that he was lost watching the fire. You had your eyes closed and danced in your place at the rhythm of the music. So natural, so calm and somehow intoxicating. A little light came out of your mouth and went into the fire, turning it a light shade of pink and orange as you cupped both your elbows in your hands. 

That was the whole show, lyrics rolling through everybody’s tongues and lights feeding the fire rather than the actual logs placed beneath it. Turning it into all kinds of colors, correlated to the mood of the songs. 

He had escaped by volunteers that were eager to sing, but finally, it was his turn to sing. 

“What song do you want, Dean?” 

He cleared his throat and scratched his neck. If he refused to sing, would you really hit him? But, maybe he wanted to sing. It would definitely be the best closing to the night. To experience yet another thing he had never even had the chance to… But, what song would he choose?

You smiled to yourself and thought, that’s a good song.

He turned his head at you; your voice echoing in his brain. You bit your lip. Shit, I thought to hard. 

“I don’t wanna miss a thing.” Again, everyone cooed at the choice of the song, more than pleased with it. 

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing, watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you’re far away breathing. I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.” He dared closing his eyes. It didn’t matter. He didn’t feel judged or awkward he was just lost in the moment. 

“Don’t wanna close my eyes. I don’t want to fall asleep ‘cause I’d miss you baby and I don’t wanna miss a thing.” A white light fluttered its way through his mouth and into the fire. He opened his eyes just in time to see it verge into the flames and turn the fire a pure white. Then his ears were filled with everybody singing along with him. All the voices combined with his and the strings of the guitars. The fire started turning different colors. Even when the night wasn’t as chilly, he got goosebumps beneath his clothes and kept singing until the song ended. 

There was a small pause before you giggled softly and started clapping and everybody else joined in, followed by “wus”.

“Ajó!” You then added to the cheers and got the same response back. 

That was how the night ended. 

****

You lent your friends the only guest room you had, making sure they had all what they needed. Then you went to your living room, Diego and Tyler settled into your bed sofa, almost fast asleep. You then turned to Dean, who was just getting out of your bathroom. 

“Hey, I have one bed left for you if you wanna crash in. Everybody else is already doing it anyways.”

“You don’t mind?” 

You shrugged. “I prefer that you drive home safely, tomorrow.” He nodded, you did have a point. 

“The only problem is that I already ran out of space, it’s either my room or the kitchen. And I don’t think you’ll like sleeping in the kitchen.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, I really don’t think kitchen’s the best idea.”

“Good ‘cause it’ll be a pain to move the bed through the door let along the whole room.” 

You both went into your room, of all the places from your house; this one was the one he hadn’t seen. Your bed was king size and it took practically almost the entire room. You had a big mirror hung on the wall, but no vanity where to store your makeup. You had a little closet that had its doors decorated with what he guessed was your artwork and some magazine cut outs. You also had lots of pillows and even more plants in your room. And a window that was partially open, drapes closed. 

Out of your drawer you took out a tiny toy bed. 

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean said, sighing. 

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. "Have a little faith, you know I wouldn't put you in the floor." You placed the bed in the space that was left in your room, instantly the bed started growing bigger and bigger into its normal size. That's when Dean realized that the bed wasn't a toy but an actual real bed made tiny for easier storage. Just how many tricks you had under your sleeve? 

"Ta-da!!" You threw on the bed the bed sheets and three pillows. "Help yourself, Winchester. I'm really tired." 

While he was making the bed, you went to put on your pajamas, well, your oversized t-shirt. When you came back to your room,you took out your shorts from underneath and climbed to your bed. Meanwhile, Dean pretended he didn't see that as he took off his shirt. When he went to undo his pants, he hesitated. He gave a little jump when your voice suddenly sounded in the room.

"You can sleep in underwear. I don't mind. Pretty much I'm the same. Relax and go to sleep." And so he did. Strangely, he slept soundly, something he didn't expect to happen in a house filled with witches, let alone a room with a witch in it. 

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

Loud voices and laughs woke up the hunter from his deep slumber. They started out muffled but then they grew clearer and clearer. And to be honest, it made him a little bit grumpy, that was until he got the smell of coffee, good coffee. Groggily, he dressed himself and walked out of your room. He went straight to the kitchen, a familiar cat that he hadn't seen last night walked with him until they were both in the kitchen. 

"Shcrödinger! Haven't seen you in a while, gato guapo!" The cat climbed into the empty chair beside you and motioned for you to pet him. 

"Gato mimado." Said Diego as he sat on Tyler's lap, whilst the cat had stolen his sit. 

"Gato suertudo." Said Dario, before sipping his coffee. Silvia, his sister, whispered "Confirmo" before mimicking her brother. 

"Miren quien despertó!" Ximena said, before everyone turned their heads towards Dean. Something that made him feel awkward more than threatened or uncomfortable.

"Hey." He said, clearing his throat. His morning voice still in place. He went to take out a mug from your cabinet and poured himself some coffee. Completely aware of everyone's eyes on him. 

"So what were you talking about?" He said as he sat beside you, the cat had moved on to your lap.

"Where we are going to get breakfast." Diego said nonchalantly. 

"I say Guadalajara."

"You always want to go to Guadalajara, Y/N." Dario rolled his eyes. 

"Not my fault que ahí esten las tortas ahogadas." 

"No tengo ganas de tortas ahogadas. Quiero menudooo. Menudo lagunero." Ximena whined. 

"Eso tiene chile y pica, creo que se les olvida que no somos mexicanos." Silvia said before sipping her coffee again.

“El menudo no pica, ¿qué te pasa?” You scolded her. 

“A nosotros si nos pica.” Dario said.

“Bueno, what do you want to eat then?” 

“¿Y si vamos por unas pupusas?” The response to his question was your stomach’s growl. Everybody at the table, including Dean, laughed at you. 

“Creo que la niña quiere pupusas.” Dario looked at you mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Does everyone agree? Pupusas for brunch?” Ximena asked, already hoping off her chair. 

“What are pupusas?” Dean whispered at you, leaning a little bit farther than needed, his depth perception still a little bit off. 

“They’re like, a bread except they’re thinner but a little bit thicker than a tortilla and they’re stuffed with a guiso, beef or frijoles, you know just whatever you want. Have you tried gorditas? Like, gorditas laguneras?” Ximena tried her best to describe them to Dean, but he was lost. 

“You’ll like them. And remind me later that we need to take you out to try gorditas and tortas normales y ahogadas.” You said, patting his hand. 

“Also pozole.” Added Diego as he hoped down Tyler’s lap. 

You shook your head. “Nah, he won’t like it. He doesn’t like menudo.” Ximena, Tyler and him gasped. “Dean your dead to us.” 

“No, no, don’t give him shit for that. One is entitled to not like every single mexican dish. Menudo and pozole are spicy and strong flavored.” Dario and Silvia approached him and patted him in the back, giving him his support.

“Okay, calm your tits everyone.” You laughed, already sensing a light discussion boiling up. “Let’s just change and go to San Salvador, okay?”

Everybody mumbled their agreements and shouted the dibs on your only shower.

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

You stepped out of your bathroom, fully dressed and fixing your hair. Dean was waiting for you outside, leaning in the wall. Everyone else was either in the shower, getting dressed or putting on some makeup. 

“Hey. I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?” 

He followed you into your room and sat beside you as you changed your flip flops for some sandals, a weird choice for the hunter who always wore boots. But he didn't know San Salvador’s climate. 

“What did you mean we’re going to San Salvador? For brunch? How is that possible?” 

“Ah.” You sang, nodding slowly to yourself. “I forgot to tell you about that. You know when I knocked at your kitchen’s door on Christmas? But I wasn’t really outside?” He nodded slowly. 

“Well, we kinda use portals for that. I don’t know if you noticed it last night, but they also stepped out of my supplies closet instead of  the actual front door. Like Monster’s Inc. Every door is a portal we just chanel the energy of the place we want to go to and when we open the door, there it is. And that’s how we’re going.” 

He frowned at the idea. It wasn’t totally nuts but it was a type of magic he wasn’t used to. Just when he was about to comment on it, Dario came into the room. 

“Hey, you guys ready?” 

“Yep, is everyone else ready?”

“If by everyone else you mean mi hermana, entonces sí, she’s ready.” 

“Oh my mother earth, fuck you Dario.” You all three laughed at that. You jumped out your bed, following your salvadorian friend out of your room, Dean walking close behind you. 

You were all gathered in front of your supplies closet, witnessing Silvia opening the portal and one by one stepping into it. 

A suddenly yellowy-green uneasiness invaded your whole body. You turned to look at the hunter, who had all the color drained from his face.

“Hey. It’s alright.” You took his hand and gave it a light squeeze. “It’s frightening because you don’t know it yet. But trust me, it’s fine, it’s like entering a cold pool in a hot summer day.” He looked at your eyes, fear turning into confusion and then fear again as he felt you pull him into the portal and through the veil whilst saying: “You just need to dive in.” And just like that, fear turned into astonishment.

@anathewierdo​

[12freddofrogs]

Gotham Crusaders - A Batfamily TV Show

A few months ago I started wondering how I would adapt the Batman/Batfam comics to TV. I started relatively simple, but then I started getting a little more detailed with a specific episode plot here, a little more to this scene there, some dialogue to be specified… and now the fic is nearly 80k on Ao3, and I still have another season/chapter to go.

This is an extract from Chapter/Season Five, Damian’s Robin introduction, also known as Dick’s run as Batman. 

Other episodes in S5 include Cass giving the Batgirl mantle to Steph, Jason getting caught in a hostage situation at Gotham Library, Dick introducing Damian to ice-cream, Tim making a reluctant alliance with the League of Assassins, the Red Hood trying and failing to convince himself he doesn’t care, and the general aftermath of the Bats without Bruce.

Start Gotham Crusaders from Season One Here

Season Five Here

Season Five, Episode Sixteen - Halloween Night

There haven’t been any holiday episodes so far. Let’s celebrate Halloween with the Batfamily.

Cass, Steph, and Babs wander the Gotham University Halloween fete at dusk.

For the moment, they’re just having fun. Steph goes apple-bobbing. Babs aces a ring-toss. Cass is unimpressed with cotton-candy.

A commotion catches their attention.

The girls hurry to where one of the students had tried to tear apart a light display. By the time they arrive, two security guards have already pulled the skinny twenty-year-old off.

He’s babbling about how lights will attract Batman, even as the security guards breathalyse him.

In his theory, the Batsignal is a way for the police to announce when they have a new victim for him, so it’s very unwise for them to have their own vampire-beacon on Halloween night.

“Batman and his colony are feeding on criminals to lure us into a false sense of security before he unleashes his dark powers—”

Steph laughs so hard she falls over. The student pauses long enough to glare at her, which doesn’t help.

Babs bites her hand to stop giggling. Cass is trying to pull Steph to her feet.

Finally, the student is escorted back to his dorm, mumbling that Gotham is going to be enslaved because they believe a blood-sucking monster wants to help.

Robin’s been a child for over ten years now, how is that not suspicious?

If anything would get Steph off the ground, it was not that.

Once he’s gone, Cass asks what a vampire is.

Meanwhile, Dick and Damian are arguing in the Manor living room.

“I’m not asking you to go trick-or-treating.” Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Or dress up, or put on a spooky voice, or do anything beneath the outrageous dignity of a ten-year-old. All I’m asking is you open the door, smile, and give out candy.”

“I don’t understand why we reward these pitiful efforts.” Damian looks out the window. Alfred is visible handing chocolate to a girl dressed as a dragon. “I have seen three facsimiles of armour tonight, none of which would stand up to the shoddiest of blades, and there’s no challenge in approaching the door. Surely we should have at least set up a basic trap to be worth overcoming?”

“Okay, the point of fun is a lesson for later.” Dick picks up a novelty candy bucket and shoves it into Damian’s hands. “Right now is social skills.” He drags his youngest brother to the hallway. Through the window, there’s another group of trick-or-treaters. “Talk to these kids, and then we’ll go on patrol.”

“Tch! Fine!” Damian storms to the door as Alfred steps out of the way. He sends an icy glare over his shoulder before turning the knob.

“Trick or treat!” Three eight-year-olds beam at him: a princess, an astronaut, and a dinosaur.

It’s impressive Damian’s forced grin doesn’t scare them. There’s nothing genuine about the teeth on show. “I… like… your costumes.”

“Thank you!” The astronaut holds out her sack.

“You must be a dead astronaut.” Damian gives her a chocolate. “Appropriately ‘spooky’.”

“I’m not a scary astronaut”

“No, you’re a scared astronaut.” Damian hands confectionary to her companions. “Even accepting the useless fabric as part of the holiday, your ‘suit’ stops at your wrists and ankles, exposing much of your skin to the void. Your ‘helmet’ is improperly attached to your shirt, and there is no indication your character has an air supply. By now you would have suffocated as your blood vessels rupture and the fluid in your eye sockets boil.”

The children gape at him.

“Happy Halloween.” He shuts the door. “Well?”

Dick and Alfred exchange a look. “He did smile.”

“That he did.”

Night falls and the Bats go on patrol.

Batgirl detours back to campus, tucking her comm unit into her belt.

The conspiracist-student is getting ready for bed. When he steps into his bedroom, he screams to find Batgirl on his desk.

“For someone so afraid of Bats, you’d think you lock your window.”

He stumbles back, pressing himself against the wall. “You… you can’t come in here without an invitation. You shouldn’t be—”

“Vampires can’t enter houses without permission. This isn’t a house.” Batgirl waves at the dorm. “It’s not your home, not a permanent space, it’s basically public property. I can come and go.”

Maybe it’s a little cruel, but it’s supposed to be a harmless prank.

Batgirl’s rattles off vampire lore, occasionally slips into a bad Transylvanian accent she can’t hold, makes spooky gestures with her hands.

She does promise that the Bats of Gotham don’t kill — maybe they’ll take a sip from a mugger, but nothing they can’t spare.

“Calm down, I’m not going to bite you. We’re harmless, really, at least to law-abiding citizens like—”

The student had been pushing himself along the wall to his closet, where he rips out a clove of garlic.

Batgirl is delighted, and plays the part. Hissing, retreating, hands out defensively. It’s awful acting, but she’s only there for a joke. It certainly convinces him.

While Batgirl is dramatically cowering from a spice, the student grabs a heavy metal water bottle from the desk and hits her over the head.

(Continues under the cut)

Batgirl wakes up tied to a chair in a lecture theatre.

A garlic garland is draped around her neck.

Steph is more concerned with the ropes. Her arms are pinned to the arm rests, done so vigorously she can barely wriggle her fingers. Her legs are similarly tied.

It’s still night. The lecture theatre is dark, with the only light being a glimpse of the festival from the windows and the candles the student is lighting.

“Um, hi?”

The student leaps to his feet, brandishing a cross at her. “Stay back!”

“Sure. Just untie me first.” Batgirl tugs at her ropes. “Okay, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I was kinda joking. I’m not a vampire.”

Shockingly, he is unconvinced. “I will not allow your colony to feast on the innocent.”

Batgirl switches her argument from ‘not-a-vampire’ to ‘not-an-evil-vampire’. It doesn’t work either.

Finally she groans, letting her head hang forwards. “How long am I going to be here?”

“Until morning, when you are destroyed by the rays of the sun.” With that dramatic pronouncement he picks up his book and leaves.

Batgirl sighs. “Nobody will ever let me hear the end of this.”

Meanwhile, the episode needs a bigger threat than a uni student with a stroke of luck.

Clayface is a more traditional Halloween villain.

Batman and Robin get waved down from a building by a nearly hysterical man, babbling about a monster that just mugged him.

At first Batman just tries to calm him down, but the revelation that the mud coating his shirt is attempting to crawl away makes them realise Clayface is active.

They give him money to take a cab home and the Dynamic Duo split up to search.

Contacting the others reveals that Oracle’s cameras caught glimpses of Clayface an hour ago, that Black Bat is patrolling on the North End but will keep an eye out, and Batgirl isn’t picking up,

While Batman continues the A-plot with an actual rogue, Robin is sent to find Batgirl.

He grumbles as he leaves, but doesn’t protest.

Steph hadn’t wanted to advertise her plans to prank a civilian, and had switched her tracker/comms off as she arrived on campus. That was still enough of a record for Oracle to note she went back to the university.

Oracle takes a guess and researches the vampire conspiracist. Henry Davids has posted a lot online.

The window to his dorm is open. Robin grapples up, pauses when he finds identical grapple marks already in the wood.

Inside the room are signs of a struggle. A single blonde hair is caught on the curtain.

“Oracle. Batgirl was here and appears to have been outmatched by someone with less combat training than a goldfish. What can you tell me about this building’s activities?”

“Not much, kiddo. Most of the dorm building cameras have been broken for months, needing new funding that hasn’t gone through.”

Black Bat is in the middle of stopping a convenience store robbery, but she takes the time to touch her comms. “Do you want back-up?” she asks, spinning neatly to slam her knee into someone’s throat. “Can be there twenty minutes.”

“No.” Robin climbs out the window. “I can handle this.”

He swings up and drops down to the ground.

Meanwhile, Henry has returned to the lecture theatre.

Batgirl is bored, but her cowl’s eyes widen when she sees him placing a pile of wooden stakes on the teacher’s desk. “Wait, I thought you were going to burn me in sunlight?”

“I said you would die at sunrise. I’m not dumb enough to think a vampire can be defeated by one.”

“How about garlic and sunlight? Throw in some holy water, too, that’ll do the trick — is that one silver?”

Robin is combing the campus.

Oracle tries to help, but Batgirl’s offline and there aren’t enough security cameras. Plus, she’s also concerned with finding Clayface.

“Are we sure Davids is still on the grounds?” Robin asks.

“No, but he hasn’t got a vehicle, the buses aren’t running, and there haven’t been any taxis. If Henry left campus, he was on foot. Even in Gotham, you can’t drag an unconscious girl through a crowd unnoticed.”

“You think she was unconscious?” Batman asks, crouching in an alleyway. More of Clayface’s mud is splattered over the ground, steadily making the way to a manhole cover.

“Hard to imagine what he could have threatened her with to make her go willingly, and Robin said there was a fight.”

“And there’s no digital trail.” Batman puts a sliver of mud into a tray as a compass and slides into the underground. “Guess you’re on physical detective work, Robin.”

“How? Drunken crowds roam every pathway. Even if he left footprints, every sign would be obliterated.”

“Those crowds happen to be your best bet,” Oracle says. “Just ask for information.”

“Nicely,” Black Bat adds, handcuffing the last of her robbers to a streetlight. “Don’t hurt anyone.”

“Or tip anyone off,” Batman says. He flicks his torch against the walls, which bounces back and lights up his grin. “You need to go undercover.”

“How would I do that?”

Cut to Damian knocking on a door.

“Trick or treat,” Robin mumbles reluctantly, holding out a bag from the fete.

He’s given a slew of compliments about how adorable he is, how cute his Robin costume is (“Did you make that yourself?“) and a small shower of candy.

“Thank you,” he says, forcing a smile. “Have you seen my… older sister? We’re in matching costumes. She’s Batgirl.”

He’s told they must look adorable, but nobody’s seen her.

At another party someone waves over someone dressed in a well-intentioned-but-badly-designed Batgirl costume Robin has to visibly bite back comments about.

His bag fills quickly. Once in a while he double-checks no-one’s watching before sneaking a chocolate.

Finally, he gets some useful information. No-one’s seen his ‘sister’, but when he adds that her boyfriend is Henry Davids, someone recognises him. “Yeah, I saw him an hour ago heading into the Arts Building with a lot of candles.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, kid.”

“Yes?” He pauses midstep.

“Look, see, um… sometimes when a boyfriend and girlfriend get candles and go into a place alone—”

Robin leaves without another word.

He palms another piece of candy before dumping his bag.

Robin lands on the Arts Building.

He pauses at the stairs, finding paper cut-outs of crosses and garlic cloves dotted around.

“Tch.” He taps his comm as he walks. “Robin to Batman. I’m pretty sure I found him. Give me ten minutes and this will be handled.”

“Alright.” Batman is distracted, climbing out of another storm drain and frowning at the giant Halloween party in the building in front of him. “Keep me updated.”

Batman watches the party.

He notices the same man who’d begged him for help earlier that night — now cheerily joking with friends, the same clothes mysteriously clean — and contacts Black Bat.

While she arrives, he heads over to the party, only to find not only is there a strict guestlist that requires an invitation and ID, but also that the bouncers don’t recognise he’s really Batman.

Batman doesn’t insist on his identity, instead asking why the security is tight enough he can see patrols walking the upper balconies.

The guards don’t answer.

Oracle explains that company parties mean it’s very difficult to keep track of everyone’s movements, and this particular company has a lot of valuable prizes stored in the same building.

She’s cut-off when the suspiciously-not-muddy man notices Batman, curses, and transforms into Clayface.

Back in the theatre, Batgirl is sulking.

Henry has set up the room with enough candles to be a fire hazard, each connected with string.

He’s sitting in the row behind her. Several wooden stakes are resting in easy reach.

Batgirl sits up a little straighter when a small red-green-black figure appears in the doorway. “Oh. It’s you. Great.”

“What is this?” Robin steps inside, gesturing at the room.

“This is… umm…”

She’s spared the explanation as Henry lunges forward over her shoulder. He presses a wooden stake against her chest plate, the other hand gripping a mallet.

Robin has a batarang out immediately. “Let her go.”

“I can’t.” Henry’s pale, his eyes frantic. “I have to — I have to protect Gotham. This is my only chance.”

“Protect Gotham from what?”

“You.” Henry’s breaths are quick and shallow. “I know what you are, I know what you’re going to do to the city. I’m the only one willing to stop you.”

“He thinks we’re the terrifying vampire heroes of Gotham,” Batgirl says. Her voice is unconcerned, but she can’t stop glancing at the stake.

“You’re not heroes.”

Robin rubs his forehead, lowering his batarang. “Look, we’re not va—” He stops mid-word. Slowly, he pulls his hand down, smiles with too many teeth. “We only feed on those who deserve it. Criminals, muggers, the occasional student too nosy for their own good.”

Henry jolts.

“I’ve been very good lately.” Robin takes a step forwards. “But it’s Halloween, and no-one can deny I look like a child. I think I deserve a treat.”

Batgirl tries not to laugh.

The panic serves to motivate Henry and he swings the mallet with all his might, digging the stake forwards.

Reinforced armour meets pointy stick. The wood splinters.

There’s a long moment where he’s frozen, unable to comprehend what happened, before Batgirl headbutts him. He falls back.

Robin bites down his smile, stepping into the maze of tripwires.

“No, no, no!” Henry stumbles to his feet, one hand clutching a bloody nose. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his emergency garlic clove, throwing it at Robin.

There is a long moment where Robin considers the spice that landed by his feet, before he grins.

He takes a dramatic leap back, flipping midair, and bares his teeth in a hiss. “That was unwise. Now you’re out of ammunition.”

“Not yet!” Henry rips the garlic necklace off Batgirl’s neck, and starts flinging the individual cloves.

His aim’s pretty good. It’s useless, but accurate.

Robin plays the game. He ducks and dodges and somersaults to avoid the garlic, trying to hide his smile. Once he pauses long enough to wave his fingers like claws.

Batgirl is trying very hard not to laugh. When Robin abruptly remembers her presence, she grins at him.

Meanwhile, Batman’s dealing with Clayface.

The security guards fire, but the bullets do nothing except splatter people with mud. He reaches up to swipe at the balcony, and the guards are no longer interested in shooting.

Batman darts past the bouncers, causing a reaction as people recognise it’s not another costume.

Clayface doesn’t stand and fight, and instead moves to the upper levels by stretching an arm as a grappling hook. Batman follows him, as the party flees.

Upstairs, amongst enough art to be a gallery, they fight.

Black Bat arrives through a window mid-battle.

It takes a while, ducking between pieces of fancy artwork (Black Bat takes the time to move one statue out of the way) but eventually Clayface ends up caught in containment fluid.

Henry is still throwing garlic.

He attempts a particularly ambitious shot and trips over the string criss-crossing his theatre.

Around the room, his candles are knocked over.

Flames start to spread.

Robin flings a batarang. It stabs Batgirl’s chair, narrowly avoiding her arm.

“Hey!” She scowls, even as she’s rubbing her tied wrists against it.

Robin leaps over the chairs.

Henry is tangled in string and mildly dazed. Robin slices the thread and drags the student to his feet.

Batgirl’s free by the time they’re standing.

The three of them flee the burning building, Robin and Batgirl dragging Henry by the elbows.

Batgirl pauses at the door, turns, and tosses a pellet into the midst of the fire. Foam explodes out, suffocating the worst of the flames.

Combined with the sprinklers finally turning on, the damage is halted.

The moment they’re out, Henry slides to the ground.

The Bats let him.

“You okay?” Batgirl asks.

“I — I think so.” He takes a deep breath, still on his knees. “You saved me.”

“We did.”

“Are you going to bite me now?”

“No,” Robin says.

“I might slap you, though,” Batgirl mutters.

“How exactly did you get into that situation?” Robin asks her. She ignores him.

“So — so you were telling the truth? You’re heroic?”

Batgirl and Robin share a look. Robin rolls his eyes and turns away, and Batgirl shrugs. “Yep.”

“I… I was wrong?”

“Also yep.”

“About everything? What about the Riddler being an escaped thrall? And the Bat-signal announcing new victims? And — Batman came back after being disintegrated, I had to be right about the time-travel.”

Robin jerks out of his folded arms. Batgirl stiffens. They stare at him.

“Or… not. I guess I was” He stumbles to his feet.

The sound of sirens reach them. The fire’s out, but smoke drifts from the windows.

“I’m sorry. About everything. I shouldn’t have — I should have put more together, realised vampire doesn’t equal monster.” There’s no response, but Henry’s looking at the fire engines anyway. “I’ll talk to the firemen. Thank you for not biting me—”

When he turns around, he’s alone.

Later, the Bats have met up on top of a building.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Robin says, balancing on the roof railing. “He tried to put a stake in Batgirl’s heart. I wouldn’t consider him a reliable source.”

“No,” Black Bat agrees, sitting with her back against the railing. “But Tim is.”

“Names,” Batman says without thinking.

“I figured T was in denial.” Batgirl’s pacing. “I got it, I might have done the same. He didn’t want to lose three parents in ten months. But our little conspiracist had the same theory.”

“We already knew T must have had something to base it on.” Batman stares out at the city. “Some detail he’d decided was a clue. Even good detectives come to wrong conclusions and he’d never insist if he hadn’t found something he called evidence. Someone else just found the same clues.”

“Nothing Davids said can be considered relevant,” Robin insists.

Batgirl stops pacing and sighs. “No. Probably not.”

There’s a moment as they let it sink in.

Oracle informs them Henry had admitted the truth and been arrested. He’ll only be held overnight, but is likely to be expelled. He’ll probably head back home, leaving Gotham.

“Good.” Batgirl nods. “I don’t think he deserves Arkham but I really don’t want to deal with him again.”

“I still have questions about how you were captured by that incompetent,” Robin says.

“Don’t act so dignified, I saw you playing along and hissing like a good little vampire.”

Robin’s cheeks colour. “I was not — I did not play — and even if I — that does not answer how you were caught!”

Batman places a hand on Robin’s shoulder, trying not to grin. “It’s not Halloween without a horror movie. Shall we finish patrol and meet up?”

“Make it the Cave,” Oracle advises. “Better atmosphere if we turn off the lights. I’ll bring popcorn.”

“I vote cheesy horror,” Batgirl says, swinging off the roof.

“With vampires!” Black Bat calls, following her.

Batman glances at Robin. “Did you have fun?”

“I—”

“Good.”

They pull out their grappling hooks and swing away.

Find the rest of the fic on AO3.

More tumblr extracts:

S1E13 - Birdcage In which Dick Grayson is held for ransom. Dick is bored, Bruce is frantic, and Robin ends up on the phone with the Commissioner and has to fequently ‘pass’ the phone to Dick.

S2E9 - Double In which the second Robin trades himself to Two-Face as potential leverage over Batman in return for the civilian hostages to be freed. Jason proceeds to comment frequently on all the ways Two-Face’s plan is failing.

S3E20 - Songbird In which everyone in Gotham under the age of eighteen is abruptly bursting into song. Tim is distressed, Steph attempts to pretend she’s not creeped out, Dick finds it hilarious, and Cass is a little jealous that she’s too old to be effected. 

S4E01 - Worst Nightmare In which Scarecrow manages to drug Robin and Spoiler. Batman is a protective father, Steph has a discussion with her childhood fears, Tim is walking a fine line between terror and consciousness - and at home, Cass refuses to acknowledge flour/sugar/baking soda are different ingredients for cookies. 

[smutfornerds]

Dibny Operation // Team Flash x Reader

A/N: so this was actually a drabble request but I felt like it got too long so here it is!! It says team flash can everyone’s in this. 🤷🏼‍♀️ enjoy my loves!!

—

“Hey Dibny, what’s on the back of these cards?” Cisco posed the question as his eyes narrowed to the stack on the table. “Oh!” Ralph chimed, speeding over to fan them out and show the other men. “These are what you have to do if you hit the buzzer.” He waggled his brows while Barry and Cisco thumbed over the cards, making some contrastingly excited or disgusted expressions. Sherloque simply raised his brows and sipped from his tea cup. From next to you Iris turned to them with squinted eyes. “That’s not how Operation works..” Noticing her tone Barry took two long steps and was beside her, whispering something barely audible in her ear. Whatever it was flustered her, and she crossed her legs before clearing her throat, nodding once. “Oh-kay, are we playing or what?” Ralph beamed from the other side of the room and Cisco let out a chuckle at her enthusiasm, motioning all of you to the table. You spun your chair and kicked off, sliding into place between the two metas. Caitlin sat between Ralph and Iris, Barry next to his wife and Sherloque squeezing in between Barry and Cisco to round out the circle.

“Alright, well, everyone knows how to play Operation so I’ll go first.” Ralph piped up and drew a card from the stack, covering it with his hand as he read it, and then flipped it over to scan the back. You watched as a wide smirk grew over his features before he sighed dramatically. “Of course, the broken heart.” He grabbed the tweezers and almost immediately buzzed them against the metal on the game board. Another faked sigh and he stood, moving to unbutton his shirt before Caitlin chimed in. “Woah, what are you doing right now?” She held a hand up and it caused him to pause his actions, looking around the table. “My consequence was to take off an article of clothing.” He stated nonchalantly, Caitlin’s brows furrowing the way your own did. “Consequence..?” You tilted your head to him and looked at everyone at the table, the boys sporting playful smiles of their own but Iris blushing fiercely. It was clear you and Caity were the only ones unaware of this game quirk. “Each card has a dirty action you have to do if you lose.” Cisco mumbled, motioning between Ralph and the game as if to say it was his doing, which it was. You were about to shake your head when you watched Ralph shrug his shirt off his shoulders, exposing his toned chest and arms. Suddenly you didn’t mind playing anymore. Instead you simply leaned back in your chair, shrugging a bit.

Caitlin huffed a defeated sighed before doing the same, but motioning for you to go next. The group’s eyes went to you and - slightly reluctantly - you grabbed for a card and groaned at the ‘butterflies in stomach’ written before you. How annoyingly accurate. Without even bothering to read your possible punishment, you snatched the tweezers from the table and leaned over the game board. The moment you brought your hand down you felt the table wobble from a firm shake and the buzzer sounded along with a few ‘oooh’s from around the table. Your eyes shot up to Ralph who had both hands defensively raised but a telling grin on his lips. Groaning with your head tilted back gained a soft laugh from Caitlin and Sherloque, and you slumped back into your chair. “Alright what’s yours say?” Ralph nudged your arm and you flipped the card over, reading it aloud and feeling your cheeks tint pink as you did. “Kiss the person to your right.” On the last word you turned to Cisco, who’s eyes had widened and he pulled his soda straw from his lips and sat forward.

“That’d be me huh?” He teased with a flip of his silky hair. A giggle fell from the girls across the table and you nodded. Behind you Ralph pushed your chair into Cisco’s, making your legs tangle between his slightly and he grinned at the contact, bringing a hand to your cheek to pull you the rest of the way to him. As your lips pressed to his one of your hands fell to his lap to brace yourself, and he slid his hand to the back of your neck to kiss you much deeper now. Letting his tongue part your lips you forgot for a moment that you were on display, and gripped his thigh under your hand. The squeeze shocked him back to earth and he pulled away, his flushed cheeks bringing a proud smile to your face that only made his blush worse. Giving his leg another playful squeeze you pulled away to sit back in your chair smugly. “Your turn.” Before he could move for it you stole his soda, taking a loud sip of it as he started the next round.

With an obnoxious amount of ease, Cisco pulled the broken wishbone from the game board and flopped back into his chair. “I work on microscopic nanotech wiring and micro-miniature soldering. This is my GAME.” On the last word he snatched his drink from in front of you. “And this is my drank.” He settled into his seat and Ralph cleared his throat. “Well that means you choose someone else to do your punishment.” Cisco’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought, and he pointed the card directly at Caitlin. “Stay frosty.” She snatched the card from him shooting him a glare. Again reading aloud the words written she blushed bright pink. “Flash the person to your left.” Her eyes went to Iris and Barry’s did too, and he chuckled to himself at the phrasing in the card. “Would’ve been funnier if I got that.” He paused for a second before looking over to Sherloque, then shaking his head quickly. “Never mind, nope.” He turned back to Iris and pursed his lips. Caitlin groaned while standing to her feet, tugging Iris into the hall with her. A few seconds later you hear Iris whistle playfully, and Caitlin let out a flustered giggle.

A few seconds of shuffling and rearranging and they walked back in. Caitlin huffed into her chair and stuck her tongue out at Cisco. “At least it was someone who’s seen it all before.” She shrugged but gained raised brows from each of the men. “Girls change together idiots.” You piped up, rolling your eyes at the way the lightbulbs went off in their heads. Sherloque stood and grabbed a card, restarting the game. “Pass.” He set the card down and sipped his tea. “You can’t just PASS that’s not ho—“ “THE card, says pass. So I pass, go.” He interrupted before he motioned lazily to Barry as he sat down, and Cisco double checked to prove he was telling the truth. Barry drew a card and read the punishment first, eyes widening at whatever it said. A jolt of lightening spun around the room and next thing Barry had the same butterfly you couldn’t grab in between the tweezers and he was sitting happily in his chair. “So I choose who does this, right?” He pointed to his card and Ralph nodded once, making the speedster’s smile grow and his eyes land on Cisco. Without even looking at it he spoke what it read. “Remove an article of clothing.” He paused and Cisco sighed, but Barry wasn’t finished. “That the person to your left also has to remove.”

Now his stare shifted to you and your brows shot up. “Excuse you? It does not say that.” You retorted weakly, and he held the card up as proof. “Sure does. Now what’ll it be?” Cisco’s formerly annoyed expression had melted into a playful thoughtful one, and his eyes shamelessly scanned your figure. “Well Barry I’m gonna have to go with the pantaloons.” He replied finally in a teasing tone. He stood and undid his belt, flicking his pants open and letting them fall to the floor. Once he kicked them off under the table he happily sat back down and motioned you to stand and do the same. Rolling your eyes like never before you rose from your chair, sliding your thumbs into the waistband of your leggings before slipping them over your hips and down your legs. You’d picked a wonderful day to wear a thong. Sitting back in your chair to slid the tight garment off over your feet and crossed both your arms and legs. “Happy?” You eyed between Barry and Cisco and both of them had more than pleased expressions. Meanwhile Ralph couldn’t take his eyes off your exposed legs.

Iris cleared her throat finally and sat forward to pick a card, pursing her lips in a tight line. She took the tweezers from her husband and moved them to get the hole in the throat, the tweezers buzzing against the metal just as she was about to pull the tiny plastic apple. Letting out a frustrated groan she flopped against her chair before turning to Caitlin. “Kiss the person to your right, with tongue.” She scrunched her nose as she pulled the other girl closer, and Ralph nearly fell from his chair when their lips met. Even Sherloque brought his full attention to the pair while they locked lips, Iris parting Caitlin’s to fulfill the second half of her challenge. A few more seconds passed before they parted form each other, both of them fighting back laughter at the looks on the boys’ faces. Beside you Cisco accidentally slurped the bottom of his drink and Caitlin snapped back to the game. With just as much, if not more ease than Cisco had, she managed to dislodge the same apple that thwarted Iris. She wiggled her card by the edges before glancing at you, holding it out for you to take. As you read it out she spoke it along with you.

“Seven minutes in heaven with the person to your left.” As if they’d been waiting to see who it’d be, Cisco and Ralph gave opposite reactions when you both said the final word, Cisco slumping against his chair and Ralph sitting straight up in his. His bare chest rippled as he flexed, smirking proudly. “Shall we?” He held a hand out to you and you mindlessly nipped the edge of your lip as you stood. He hurried you out into the hall, calling over his shoulder. “Keep playing, we’ll be longer than seven minutes!” You smacked his shoulder but he simply hoisted you over it, sprinting to the nearest supply closet that wasn’t locked. He practically slammed the door closed and pinned you against it immediately. Wasting no time he crashed his lips against yours and let one of his hands meet the bend of your waist and toy with the lace of your thong. As if he was on fire you melted into him, pulling his bare body against you by the back of his neck. He welcomed the embrace, pressing his hips against yours in a rough grind that elicited a moan to fall into his mouth from yours.

Letting his hand snake between the two of you, he easily slipped past the lace that covered you to press the pad of his finger to your clit. Again you whined out at the touch, and he took the hint to rub slowly against your nerves. Just the added friction was enough to make your hips twitch, and you felt Ralph’s lips curl up at the edges as he continued to kiss you. His tongue coiled around yours just as his fingers worked faster flicking over your clit. Each distracting movement brought another breathless moan from your lips. Pressing his finger harder to the throbbing nub made a particularly sharp whine escape from your preoccupied mouth. As if to punctuate it, there was a hard bang on the door just beside your head that made you squeal, jumping forward into Ralph’s embrace as his arm flew tightly around your shoulders. “We gave you five minutes cause of that comment.” Cisco’s less than amused voice called from outside and Ralph fought back a growl, opting for a frustrated sigh as he opened the door. You were still pressed tightly to his chest and he only opened it enough to look Cisco in the eyes. “With all due respect, uh, fuck off.” With a curt nod he slammed the door in his face and you smacked his chest, gaining a small grunt from him.

“That was so rude.” You poked at his side gently, only for him to spin around and grab you by the waist next to the doorframe. “No, what was rude was him interrupting before I got you off.” He retorted leaning over you to kiss your lips again, but the moment was short lived when Caitlin turned the doorknob and grabbed for your wrist. “That’s enough of that..” she easily slipped you out of his arms and handed you a pair of sweats to pull on. “You guys can finish that later if you want to, but right now there’s a meta attack four blocks from CCPD. Boys gotta go.” She quickly transitioned from her normal brunette to icy blonde, a chill rolling off her and giving you small goosebumps while you hastily pulled the sweatpants over your legs. “And so do I.” KF poised a small grin before taking off down the hallway with Cisco. Reluctantly Ralph followed them, turning halfway to holler back to you. “I’m not done with you.” He pointed a finger at you just in time for Cisco to yank him down the hall to get changed. Hopefully that meant many more rounds of Dibny Operation.

[samingtonwilson]

Cloudburst- 1

Summary: You’re rescued from your cell on a HYDRA base by the Avengers after years of experimentation that has left you afraid of touch and your own abilities. Steve, someone who has admired you from the moment you met, becomes one of the reasons you’re able to move past it.

Or, Steve falls in love with the girl who makes the sun shine when she smiles and the clouds burst with her strength.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (eventually)

Warnings: language, a little angsty for now, brief descriptions of previous violence

A/N: this chapter is mainly about reader and the next one will be more steve. i needed to establish her before anything else and then we’ll delve into steve more. i like this fic so far. it’s interesting and different. i just really love steve, y’all. 

Contrasting heavily against every part of the Avengers Compound you’d managed to see thus far, the room was a stark white. One large window overlooking the surrounding grounds stretched across the wall to your right and you stared at your reflection in the glass, hair messy and eyes red with injury-marked skin. Gauze and bandages were smoothed over deeper, more serious stitched wounds and ointment was smeared over others.

Though the cut on your lip stung, you frowned and looked away from your image only to focus on the abrasions encircling your wrists— wrists which sat atop your blanketed lap, sleeves of the regulation sweats you’d been given on the Quinjet rolled to your elbows to expose the aching bruises you now pressed to the cool metal of the bed frame.

You had yet to be subjected to what you’d been told was called “the chamber.” Doctor Cho, the physician in charge of your case, assured you that it sounded much more intimidating than it really was. She called it a miracle machine, something she thought she was incredibly fortunate to work with— she said it would heal you in no time. You didn’t bother to express your cynicism, only nodding very slightly to indicate that you’d heard her.

To your left, a second window provided a view of the small but bustling medical wing. You would have been able to see a research lab, three examination rooms, and a supply closet across the hall had you gathered the courage to gaze that way, several other intensive care rooms and long-term rooms flanking your own. But courage seemed to be a characteristic lost.

You knew several members of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers, stood outside your slightly ajar door. You could hear their pacing steps, their hushed voices and could feel eyes on you each time any of them peered through the window to check on you with brief glances. Maybe it was due to the enhanced hearing, or maybe they wanted you to know they were there in an attempt to be comforting— either way, you wished they would fall silent.

It wasn’t that you were unappreciative— goodness no. You couldn’t describe your intense and immense appreciation if you tried. They’d rescued you from a grimy, cramped, perpetually locked HYDRA cell, the walls specifically designed to withstand your “powers” and the limited strength of your fists and kicks.

Not once had any of their eyes shown any bit of doubt, not once had their steps faltered in skepticism. They all believed the story your body language, facial expressions, and silence told— which was only corroborated by the information on you and the experimentation you’d been subject to that Black Widow, or Natasha as she’d asked you to call her, had pulled from the tentacled database.

While there was no doubt in your mind that the file stated every one of your powers or “abilities” as you were considered one of HYDRA’s great successes, the file didn’t capture the entirety of what you had been subject to, what your body had been subject to.

Though HYDRA often chronicled their methods of torture for future reference, their tactics and techniques used against you were nowhere to be found on record. At least you’d been told as much by the shock widening Cho’s almond-shaped eyes and the horrified edge to her voice once she saw the awkwardly healed, unevenly set bones in your body and the bruises which appeared to be weeks-old littered across your skin.

You glanced out of the window to your right once again, this time focusing on the drier patches of grass in the distance. Shutting your eyes for a brief moment, you lifted your lids to watch a small cluster of grey clouds shower much needed rain over the grounds. It wasn’t heavy enough to pelt the windows, not light enough to be called a mere sprinkle, but you thought it might help the browning grass. A smile pulled at your lips as you made sure to keep the number of clouds low enough to still have a bit of sunlight peek through, the stinging that resulted from the facial expression a secondary concern now.

Atmokinesis was what the scientists called it in their thick accents and their intentions were vastly different than what you found yourself using the psychic ability for most often. You’d summon the rain when the plant life outside the base you were locked in looked dreary and would part fog when your mood felt the sore lack of sunlight meanwhile they tortured you with methods your mind wouldn’t soon forget to try your hand at hurricanes, tornadoes, cyclones.

You were able and anything aside from willing, the full extent of your abilities unknown even to you as you feared using the entirety of your strength— even when you’d tried to blow your cell walls off with powerful gusts of wind.

The downpour outside picked up at the sound of two knocks at the door, a sudden roar of thunder shaking the walls when you heard his voice. “Miss? Is it okay to come in?”

There was a beeping from the heart rate monitor in warning and you took several steady breaths before clearing your throat. Your voice was still hoarse from the screaming for help you’d done earlier as you said a quiet, “Yes.”

Natasha, still dressed in her all-black suit, stepped in first, a polite smile stretching her lips and her gait slower and calmer than before. She was followed by Captain Rogers, or Steve as he’d introduced himself as. He was smiling as well, but it looked more natural than Natasha’s, and the posture beneath his tattered tactical suit he still wore was relaxed.

While Steve lingered behind the bed’s short footboard, Natasha sat at the edge of the mattress near your feet and folded a leg to sit on the plush surface. She continued smiling and appraised your injuries with green eyes. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged a shoulder and your features twisted in pain as a heavy ache shot up your spine, a soft wince involuntarily leaving your lips.

“We spoke to Doctor Cho,” she continued as she kept her gaze directly on you. “She said some of the older bruises, scars should fade after a few minutes in the chamber. Might not even need those stitches.”

You nodded and took your eyes from hers, her stare a bit too intense. You instead focused on the ensuing rain. “Can I—” you cleared your throat again. “Can I have some water?”

Had you been looking, you would have seen Natasha nod toward the counter mounted to the left wall so Steve complied by walking over and retrieving a pale pink plastic cup, quickly filling it with water from the matching pitcher.

But you kept your focus on the greying view of the grounds, nearly jumping out of your skin when a soft hand was set on your shoulder to gain your attention. As the fear overshadowed any of the lingering and now pulsating pain, your eyes snapped shut and you saw the flashing of lightning even through your lowered eyelids. Two consecutive claps of thunder followed and the heart rate monitor beeped in a shrill manner several times.

Steve quickly withdrew his hand and looked to Natasha for some form of assistance, his baby blue eyes wide and lips parted in concern. “I’m— I didn’t mean— I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you the water.”

It took a few beats of silence for you to nod and open your eyes again. Your body remained tense as you took the cup from him, carefully keeping your fingers from his.

You took several long sips through the plastic straw and relished in the coolness soothing your throat, the pitter patter of the rain against the window softening to the point of inaudibility. You gripped the cup tightly as you lowered it, attempting to press your wrists to the cold plastic.

“The rain outside,” Natasha began cautiously after a few minutes, the cup in your hands now drained of all the water you’d been given. “Are you doing that?”

Your eyes found hers wordlessly.

She offered you a small smile. “I read your file. Atmokinesis, right? You can control the weather?”

Keeping your gaze steady, you only blinked.

“One of our teammates, Wanda got her powers from the scepter, too.”

Your eyebrows rose at that. “Maximoff?”

Natasha’s smile grew. “Yeah. You know her?”

You shook your head and dropped your eyes to the cup your wrist desperately tried to wrap around. “They talked about the Maximoffs— the scientists,” you added in explanation. “I never— They never let me out of my cell.”

You missed the look Natasha gave Steve. She had to clear her throat this time. “There are other abilities listed— enhanced hearing, immunity, sight, healing.”

You snorted when Natasha uttered the last word, shaking your head to yourself.

Steve nudged Natasha’s shoulder with his fingertips and nodded in your direction when she looked at him questioningly.

Natasha sighed silently. “Do you not have enhanced healing?”

As if you hadn’t learned your lesson, you shrugged and immediately winced.

“Cho noticed most of your gashes from the blast were almost completely healed by the time we brought you in.”

You sat immobilely.

“But there are some old bruises, some bones that didn’t heal correctly.”

“I think it depends on the injury,” you offered. “The severity— I— The bruises are recent. I refused to— They wanted to test the limits of my abilities and I said no.”

“What about the bones?”

“I had to set most of the breaks myself,” you flinched at the memory, eyes shutting as the sun nearly vanished behind a thick blanket of clouds. “It just— It’s really painful and I— I could never set them all before the healing began.”

Natasha didn’t chance a comforting touch against your leg instead saying your name softly— the sound had your eyes snapping open and your breath audibly hitching in your throat. She didn’t bother with a smile this time. “HYDRA is filled with pigs.”

But you did smile, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to stop a stunned laugh. The room was slowly flooded with sunlight.

Steve found himself smiling as well, openly and unabashedly.

He and Bucky had found you in your cell, their supersoldier hearing picking up your pleas for help over the sound of weaponry and groaning HYDRA operatives. While Bucky shot the hinges off the door, Steve lifted the heavy metal from its frame with a slight grunt of effort.

They’d exchanged a look upon seeing you, your crumpled form swaying before your legs gave out. You would have hit the ground had Steve not raced over to catch you, strong arms scooping you off your feet entirely and holding you close to his tattered suit. He shouted commands to Bucky and let the rest of the team know the precise circumstance as he started back to the jet.

He was the first to see you when your eyes had opened as you lay on the gurney the team kept for emergencies. His eyes had met yours and he’d done his best to smile at you comfortingly when all he’d felt was insurmountable empathetic sadness stemming from the fear in your irises, the anxiety in your limbs, the terror in your every cell.

“Thank you,” you eventually whispered after nearly an hour of Natasha’s continuing questions and a short visit from one of Cho’s nurses. Your eyes still held that sadness and your body was still tense in fear, but another smile pulled at your cut and swollen lips. “For helping me.”

Steve returned your smile. “S’our job.”

“We’d like to keep you in our facility at least until you’re fully healed, old injuries and all,” Natasha interjected, glancing at the phone in her hands momentarily. When her eyes met yours, she was smiling once more. “Likely longer. To protect you, maybe hone your skill set for something good.”

“But not any time soon,” Steve pressed, narrowing his eyes at Natasha. “You should rest, recuperate. You’ve been through a lot. Do you have any family we can contact?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Natasha nodded and rose from the bed. She tucked her phone into her pocket once again and offered you one last smile. “Steve’s right. Rest. You’re safe here, no one will force you to do anything you don’t want. No one will hurt you here.”

“If you need anything,” Steve started, smiling at you, “shout for FRIDAY. She’ll let someone know if she can’t do it herself.”

You cocked your head at an angle. “FRIDAY?”

“She’s our AI,” Natasha clarified. “FRIDAY, say hi.”

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N,” lilted a gentle female voice over speakers you couldn’t see. “Welcome to the compound.”

PART 2

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[pandawritesmanythings]

The Supply Girl

Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache and Celine belong to @markiplier

Rest of characters are mine.

Story by yours truly. Sorry if using Mark’s characters upset you, I just want to tell my girl’s story, and honestly I love writing Dark.

The bell on the door rang alerting the clerk of the shop. Her eyes landed on the strange looking man who had just entered her shop. 

"Gimme just a second sweetie." She smiled towards the little girl who had been hoarding her attention. She walked up to the man who was staring at a staff that was neatly placed behind a glass window.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, fearing the answer. He looked over at her, dismissing her because of her small frame.

 "Allow me to talk to your manager." The girl groaned and turned towards the girl.

"I'll fix your necklace sweetheart. Why don't you come back tomorrow?" 

"You sure you can fix it?"

"Of course! That's my job after all!"

The girl gave her the necklace, which had a broken blue gem on it. Afterwards, the girl skipped happily out of the store, leaving it in a dangerous silence.

The man was still looking at the staff and clenched his hands with impatience.

"Manager." He ordered.

The girl scoffed aloud, which caused the man to whip over to look at the girl.

"I am the manager." Her tone was dangerous, but it caused the man to smile predatory nonetheless.

"Why, I would have never thought someone so fragile could run such a business." His condescending tone made her clench her teeth.

With a purple glitch, she transported to find herself centimetres away from the man.

"Dare to call me fragile again. I will snap every single bone of your body." Her brown eyes glowed with purple colour as a flame appeared on her hand.

The stranger chuckled before extending his hand. "Let me start over." The woman blew out the flame and took his hand. 

"My name is Dark. A pleasure to finally meet the owner of this infamous shop.”

"I assume you already know who I am, so we'll walk straight into business." She walked behind the counter and pressed a button that made the blinders close and the sign on the outside say: Sorry, We Are Closed! Please Come Back Later!

She tied an apron in front of her black dress and stared at the man who called himself Dark with a blank slate. Millions of thoughts of who this man used to be rushing in her mind.

"I am looking for something to make sure I can know the location of someone. I was told you hold many different artefacts. Maybe you have something to help me?" There was a slight glitch to him. As if parts of himself lost control and twitched in red and blue colours. 

"Before I show you anything that I have I need you to know my policies since it's the first time you have set foot on my store and most likely don't remember any of it."

She raised fingers as she mentioned her policies "One. I don't care what you need nor why. Your use of these objects is not my responsibility. Two. I only fix stones or artefacts if the holder is keeping up their side of the contract. Three. All or nothing. If you want the object, you do what I tell you. And four. If the holder breaks their contract they will lose possession of the object and will be persecuted to a degree. All these terms stand on every situation."

The man looked at her slightly impressed at her conditions. "What if I don't want to give the object back to you?"

"I have a location and teleportation system. No matter where you are if I find out you failed on your side of the deal. I'll take my property from you." Her menacing tone barely bothered Dark. He was actually very intrigued and amused by this girl.

"Then, I guess we shall begin."

She led him to the back of the room. It was barely lit, the only sources of lights were the colorful stones that were stocked on different shelves. Dark wondered in his void heart how many worlds and lives had this girl seen. It was a truly impressive collection of things he hadn't seen or even heard of before. Somewhere a pair of wings battled in a cage trying to get out. The girl stroke them a couple times and they seemed to relax briefly, but still fluttered on the reduced space.

Towards the end of the labyrinth that this seemingly endless room was, the girl stopped dead in her tracks making Dark bump into her while he was distracted looking at a pistol that looked oddly familiar.

"These are my location devices." She pointed at a neatly organized and labelled drawer. "Look over them and tell me if you are interested in any." She took a step back and allowed him to look over some of them.

After some moments of silence, he started asking questions.

"Do any of them cause a type of damage?"

"There is always damage to the mass of the transported object or thing, atoms don't like to be messed with. If any of these is used with an unstable hand or mind it could mean the death of whoever, or whatever, they were trying to locate and transport."

"Which one do you believe would cause the least damage?"

She picked out an outer space looking one. "This one. The Searcher's Gun. It has the best aim and will stabilize herself if the holder is too unstable. It has the least probabilities to harm person or object and will most definitely not make them implode."

"Where does it come from?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't think that is something you need to know. Just as I don't need to know what you are using this for."

He smiled at her secrecy. "Fair enough."

"So, are you taking this one?"

"Yes, please wrap her up for me."

They walked out of the endless supply closet and she closed the door behind them. He walked to the checkout desk and she wrapped the gun carefully on a purple wrap. 

"Now, for the contract." She began.

"Ah, yes!" Dark was expecting this. He had always heard stories of the mysterious woman who did deals in exchange for fantastical weapons, powerful stones, and artifacts. He wondered what she would ask for. She seemed eccentric in her own way. Maybe one day he would bring Wilford in, surely if the deals weren't that big of a burden he would like a new toy.

The girl slid a folder towards him. "Read."

When Dark opened the folder, he was very unimpressed. The guy on the picture looked awfully normal. Nothing about him really stood out. His social media was written on the paper, also his address and workplace. This actually looked kind of creepy. His eyes met her in confusion, but her gaze was determined.

"Care to explain?"

"This boy. I need you to protect him."

"That's my part? To act as a guardian angel?" He laughed. "I'm not a good person if you haven't noticed my dear."

She didn't flinch nor back down. Her expression remained serious, only her mouth was in a slight pout from not being taken seriously.

"I know. And I don't want you to be a guardian angel. That is just a myth." She pointed to something in the folder that Dark had missed and his eyes refocused on the boy. "I just need you to keep an eye on him. Don't let him do anything stupid. If anything were to happen to him, our deal is over."

Dark nodded, but he still was confused about something. "Is he part of your family?"

She denied. "Then, why?"

"I don't ask you why you need the stuff I give you, so don't ask me why I want what I want. It's not your place to know."

Dark placed the folder under his armpit and grabbed the wrapped gun, his right hand free. The girl extended her hand towards him to close the deal.

"Do we have a deal, Darkiplier?"

"I suppose we do, my dear."

She was getting tired of the nickname. Everyone used it on her.

When Dark was walking out she decided to mess with him. "Give my greetings to Celine and Wilford!"

Dark whipped around, his shell slightly cracking thanks to the names she had suddenly thrown at him. But in a glitch, she had closed the door and locked it. He supposed he wasn't going to be able to get in right now, knowing that she probably had protection gems on this place.

He smiled at the fact that she knew anything about him and he walked down the street back to his car to go to meet with Wilford. This had been an interesting experience. Now he just had to keep his part of the deal up.

Meanwhile, the girl had buried her face on her hands, slightly grieving the loss of his old friend.

"Oh, Damien... You couldn't just stay alive could you?"

Another loss, another mask, that's what she thought. Now Dark was here, and if she had lost her friend for good, she was darn sure she would help whatever was left behind of him accomplish whatever he wanted. But thoughts couldn't help but resurface in her mind. People could get hurt, and Dark didn't seem like the type of person who would back down from a fight and if he was anything like Damien, he was determined. He wouldn't stop until what he had to do was done. And knowing that her friend had suddenly become so void and powerful was scary, in a way, even if she had seen way scarier monsters. But since it was someone who she knew...

"I have to move my store outta here."

She probably wasn't going to come back to this reality. She would fix the little girl's necklace and leave this place. She wasn't willing to see what her friend as going to do and she definitely wasn't ready to see Wilford.

She suddenly had an idea. It went against what she usually did... But in case Dark wreaked havoc... If she could save one life.

The new blue gem she put on the necklace was identical to the one that the little girl had broken. A protection blue gem. Maybe that would save her. Maybe... Just maybe.

A couple days after the town folks looked amazed at the destroyed building that once was the General Supply Store. It seemed like someone had blown it up, but no one could say they heard any explosions. There was only rubble left.

On the distance, the woman looked from a tall building, a purple portal behind her. She stood there for a second and then walked back through it. Her contacts would keep tabs on Dark and Wilford. Both of them still owed her, after all. 

But she wasn't coming back, she definitely wasn't.

[saltbaes]

Overview: After getting kicked out of MIT, Raven’s best friend (Clarke) offers her a place to stay and a job at her boyfriend’s (Bellamy) bar “Arkadia.” While there she reunites with a former frenemy from highschool, John Murphy. Modern AU: Takes place in present day. Clarke’s in Med school. Bellamy owns the bar. Murphy bar-tends, along with Jasper and Monty. Pairings: (Main) Murphy x Raven, mentions of Bellarke  Characters: (The 100) John Murphy, Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, Finn Collins, Zeke Shaw, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green Rating: M (adult language + situations) Previous Chapter: 1 Chapter: Two

You can also read it on AO3 

Inspired by the song Oasis by Jasmine Thompson.

Raven was under the impression that her first shift at Arkadia would be an easy one. It was a Sunday and she spent the majority of her afternoon being taught how to make the simplest of drinks, something she was quick to pick up on with the lack of customers they got. However, as the day dragged on and the sun set it was evident to her that she had vastly underestimated just how busy it would be.

By the time eight o'clock rolls around the bar is pretty much hundreds of conversations being told in obnoxiously loud voices, all of them competing with the music that seemed to be dominating the atmosphere. Raven never had to deal with loud, eardrum popping sounds when she was at MIT. In fact, in order to concentrate on anything, she needed remote silence. She wasn't one of those people who could have the TV on in the background when she did work, she needed the room to be quiet in order to focus. So, trying to remember dozens of variations of drinks while being talked at by an abundance of different people at the same time was a bit overwhelming to say the least.

On her side the crowd consists of young students from different universities, most of which already seem extremely tipsy before they even order their first drink. At the other end of the bar, where Murphy is, there seems to be an array of older people. Men in suits and women in blazers, some sporting salt and pepper hair while the others are showing signs of premature balding.  

Bellamy made a point to explain to her why he was making her deal with the college students instead of the seemingly much calmer grown-ups on Murphy's end. Evidently there isn't much a bunch of coeds won't drink. If she were to mess up any drinks, which she has, the chances of them noticing or giving her a hard time about it were slim. However, the regulars at the end of the bar would definitely notice and he didn’t want her first shift to involve being berated by some yuppie in a pant suit who just wants to nurse his whiskey and stare at the sorority girls he can't pull.

As she filled several cups of beer she watched Murphy graciously move around his station, making drinks so quickly and with so much ease she was almost in awe of him. It was obvious he had years of experience and knew what he was doing, but the swiftness he possessed and the complete awareness of what was going on around him was actually impressive. So impressive that she accidently overfills the customers glasses, spilling beer all over the counter and floor.  

"Shit." She mumbles under her breath as she tries to get the situation under control as quickly as possible. Much to her dismay she draws attention to herself, prompting Monty to step in and help.  

Raven glances up just as Murphy notices he's lost two bartenders to the spill on the ground. She can see him shake his head ever so slightly as he briskly walks over to where they were. "You." He directs his words at Monty as he pulls a mop bucket out of the closet behind them. "Go help Jasper on the right side."

Monty does as he's told and the spill is cleaned in a matter of seconds. Before Raven can even blink Murphy's outstretching his arm to help her to her feet. "Try to keep up, Reyes."

She nods as he pulls her to her feet, trying not to beat herself up about what just happened. It was her first day, she knew she'd make mistakes but making mistakes that John Murphy had to correct felt like a new low.

As she tended to the guests she couldn’t help but to pay attention to the different ways Murphy interacted with each person ordering. He came off as aloof and one track minded when dealing with the male patrons but his demeanor changed completely when it was a girl on the other side of the counter.

She watched as a red head leaned on the bar, her long waves lying over one shoulder of her sequined top. The girl lolled her head to one side, pursing her red lips into a smirk whenever Murphy so much as smiled in her direction. His eyes dropped only momentarily to her barely there neckline as he made her drink while the girl twiddled her hair in a seemingly absent-minded way.  

Raven began to curl her lip in disgust as she watched him shamelessly flirt with her but as the girl plucked a twenty-dollar bill from her cleavage and slid it across the counter to him before walking away, realization hit her. It wasn't until she saw him move on to the next female at the counter and repeat what he had done previously that he confirmed her suspicion. He wasn't flirting to be a creep, he was using the situation to his advantage. He was being smart.

In the five minutes that he had been on her side of the bar he had already made almost $60 in tips, meanwhile she'd been there all night and had a lousy $9 to show for it. She knew if she wanted to make the most out of a shitty situation she had to acclimate or better yet, she had to take a page from Murphy's book.

She takes care of another patron before quickly slipping into the back. She undoes her ponytail, allowing her long chestnut locks to frame her face before yanking off her long sleeve shirt, leaving her in just a low-cut camisole.  

---

Murphy pretends to not notice Raven slip away. They were just starting to get the crowd under control and he didn’t have the time to babysit her. If she wanted to bail or couldn’t handle it, he'd understand but he wasn't about to let her come in between him and his money. He was there to work, not to play hide and seek with the new bartender.

To his surprise Raven resurfaces, taking her spot behind the bar again. He does a double take as she begins to take orders, doing his best not to stare at her exposed skin. With her hair down, she seemed like a completely different person and with her cleavage on display she quickly became the favorite amongst their male customers. Not that it was surprising... and not that he was complaining.

"Someone's a fast learner." He says, motioning to her change of appearance when she glances in his direction. A cocky grin flashes across her face and it takes everything in him not to smile in return. "And here I thought you'd be above a little sexual exploitation."

Raven rolls her eyes but her smirk remains. "You call it exploitation I call it making money."

"Touché." His eyes linger on her a little longer than he'd like to admit, before forcing himself to tear his gaze away.  

His attention returns to the few guests still waiting for drinks and just as he's about to head back over to his usual spot at the opposite side of the bar he sees a familiar face walk through the door. Finn Collins. Murphy clenches his jaw as he comes closer, readying himself for what he's sure is about to be an interesting interaction.

When his eyes land on Raven, he stops in his tracks, eyebrows pulling together. Murphy can see the wheels turning in Finn's head as he contemplates whether or not to approach her. 

He only ever showed up towards the end of Jasper and Monty's shift but tonight he was earlier than usual and Murphy wouldn’t be surprised if it was because one of them told him about the new bartender. Although it was obvious he wasn’t expecting to see her.  

Raven has yet to notice him and as Finn begins to close in on her Murphy finds himself, literally, standing between them. "Go in the back and grab another rag, would ya."  

Unfortunately for him Raven doesn't bite. "Get it yourself." She answers with a slight shove. As she maneuvers around Murphy her eyes lock with Finn and she freezes.

"Raven." Finn smiles, doing a once over of her.  

Murphy watches as the brunette blinks several times, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her eyes go dark, her mouth rigid. "Finn."

"What the hell are you doing bartending?" There's a hint of humor in his voice but Raven remains cold, glaring at him.

"Jasper and Monty are over there, why don't you fuck off." Murphy chimes in, Raven holds her hand out to stop him from interfering.  

"I see you've got a guard dog now." Finn smirks, provoking a snarl from Murphy.

"I see you're still an asshole." Raven retorts. "Now why don't you do us all a favor and leave."

As if on cue, Jasper calls out to Finn ending the staring contest between the exes. Once Finn walks away Raven brushes past Murphy into the backroom. He hesitates but ultimately decides to follow her.  

"Reyes." He calls out, knocking on the supply closet before opening it. "Hey, you okay?"

"Just... stop." Raven says through shallow breaths. She's sitting on a pile of boxes, forearms resting on her lap while her head hangs low. "Stop being nice to me... stop trying to fight my battles for me. I can handle Finn and I don't need your help, Murphy... just leave me alone."

Murphy nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he backs out of the room and closes the door behind him. He knew trying to get on her good side was a lost cause and yet he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to chuck it up as him just trying to be civil with his coworker (and sort of roommate) but he knew that wasn’t the entire truth. 

He was trying to make amends for something that happened six years ago when they were still in high school. Even though deep down he knew if she hadn't forgiven him by now chances were she'd never forgive him.  

With that in mind he returns to the bar, eager for the night to be over with.

___

Raven exhales deeply as she lifts the final stool onto the last table. She managed to make it through her first shift in one piece. She looks around at the now empty bar, a completely different atmosphere than it was a few hours prior. The only sound that could be heard was the wiping of the glasses and the broom sweeping across the cement floor.  

Luckily, Finn took the hint and didn’t bother her for the rest of the night, although she could feel him burning a hole into the side of her face the entire time. Murphy, on the other hand, hadn't said a word or even glanced in her direction since she told him to leave her alone. She was expecting snarky comments or even a sarcastic remark here and there but instead he did what he was told. He left her alone.

"Any plans for tonight, Raven?" Monty asks as he pulls on his jacket.

"Oh yeah, I've got a hot date with my Netflix account." She says wryly.  

Monty smiles. Jasper snorts a laugh. "You know it's hard to believe you guys weren't close in high school." Monty continues, glancing between Murphy and Raven. "You're a lot alike."

Raven narrows her eyes and Jasper decides to fill her in. "That's always Murphy's answer when we ask him if he has any plans."

Her eyes dart over to where Murphy is, surprised to see him with his back turned to the rest of them.  

"What exactly happened between you two?" Jasper inquires bringing Raven's attention back to the scrawny boy. "It's obvious you hate each other but like... why? I mean, I know why I hate him, why do you?"

"Why do you hate him?" She asks, hoping to stall the conversation for a little while.

"Cause he's a snarky asshole." Jasper answers with a shrug. "Now spill it."

Raven sighs. She hated rehashing the past but something told her if she didn’t tell him he'd never shut up about it. She felt it was better to get it out in the open now than prolong it any further. 

"It was sophomore year and I had spent months on end scrounging up any change I could find to go on this school field trip to NASA. I was obsessed. I wouldn’t talk about anything else...  and my mom was a drunk who couldn’t be bothered to buy food let alone send me to Washington so I babysat and did homework for upperclassmen, literally anything I could to make money. Somehow, I managed to save up enough... but like an idiot, I left my money in my gym bag in the locker room and when I went back for it... it was gone."

"How'd you know it was him?" Monty asks.

"She caught me trying to put it back that following Monday." Murphy chimes in.

"But by then the trip was already over." Raven adds, meeting his gaze. "When I told my mom I lost the money she burned me with her cigarette."

"So, you've always been a piece of shit." Jasper shakes his head. "What were you even going to buy with the money?"

"Who cares?" Raven says before Murphy can answer. "What's done is done. Besides, that was a long time ago."

"Apparently you still care." Jasper laughs, hopping off the counter before grabbing his jacket. "Though I don’t blame you. I'd be pissed too."

"See you guys tomorrow." Monty calls out as he and Jasper head for the door. Raven waits until they're out of sight before locking up behind them.  

The room fills with silence. It clings to them like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from them. Raven's hesitant to meet his gaze again but when she turns back around he's walking towards the stairs, leaving her in the dark.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs he's already got his keys out attempting to let himself into his apartment. The silence stretches thinner and thinner until the temptation to fill it was too great to resist.

"Not that it matters but I was going to go see my dad." Murphy breaks the tension, his voice lower than usual. It takes Raven a second to understand what he's talking about. "He was in hospice up in Connecticut and I – I just wanted to see him one last time but my mom wouldn’t let me... So when I saw your money I..." He pauses, letting his voice trail off. "I know it's no excuse but I am sorry. It wasn't personal and I definitely didn’t think you'd get hurt because of it. But I get it... I'd hate me too."

Raven watches as he opens the door and just as he's about to close it she speaks. "Did you get to see him?"

Murphy reluctantly locks eyes with her, shaking his head ever so slightly. "He died before I even bought the ticket." A beat of silence passes before either of them speak again. "Anyway... goodnight Reyes.

"Murphy." She calls out once more. He pauses. "I don’t hate you." When he lolls his head to the side, she smiles in spite of herself. "I mean, I don’t particularly like you... but I don't hate you."

"Good to know." Murphy suppresses a chuckle as he closes the door behind him.  

[gripefroot]

Scene You Later

Bucky’s scream echoed through at least three floors of Avengers Tower. 

Had he known it elicited only chuckles and sniggers from his so-called friends lounging around elsewhere, his embarrassment would have been a thousand times more burning - or is that the pain throbbing in his ear? But regardless, his teary-eyed sniffles are contained behind the closed door of his girlfriend’s bathroom, where her eyes glint with glee as she wipes a courtesy antiseptic wipe around the new piercing, despite there being no chance whatsoever of Bucky getting an infection. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” 28 says with a fond pat of his cheek, turning away to refill the piercing gun lying on the bathroom counter - and it gives him a deeper shudder than any rifle or shotgun. “Thank you for letting me practice on you.”  

“Did I have a choice?” Bucky's eyes are still watering, and his voice comes out more strained and cracking than he’d like - it’s a good thing he’d been able to glower Sam and 41 away from watching at the door before this had started.  

“Sure!” A beaming smile as she turns, wielding that gun in a way that would make him laugh any other day, but as the nerves continue to cry with pain - this is as bad as a gunshot! - he just cringes, and clenches his fingers into fists on his knees. And though the sight of her pretty, though mildly terrifying face, would lend some comfort - Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, too, and holds his breath as he feels the piercing gun align with the next marked position in the top cartilage of his ear.  

Thunk.  

“Ahhh!” 

She’s trying to be sympathetic - really, she is - he can see the tremoring sympathy in her eyes through blinked back tears. But he can hear her suppressed snicker, too, as she quickly whisks a tissue towards him, which he takes to dab at his watering eyes.  

“I’d rather be stabbed,” Bucky says woefully.  

“Technically, you are being stabbed,” 28 chirps. “But on purpose.”  

“Maybe that’s what makes it worse.”  

“We can study that sometime. I’m sure that’s the scientific data Stark would love to see.”  

Bucky wants to laugh. Really, he does - he even tries, but the noise strangles in his throat before he blows his nose, and lobs the crumbled tissue right into the garbage can. A clean shot. But he’s too miserable to gloat. His ears feel as though they’re on fire.  

“Last one,” 28 tells him, and her smile is a little rueful. “Won’t be so bad. Just in the lobe.”  

No, it’s not so bad. He doesn’t yell. Just gritted teeth and a grunt, and a scowl at the shining silver stud, and she hums happily to herself as she cleans that with a smile, and backs up.  

“They look good,” she muses. “Turn towards me.” 

He does. Tries to smile, but grimaces.  

“It’s not enough,” she decides, nose wrinkled and brows knitted. Arms crossed as she studies him - and he studies her back, for distraction - those glowingly bare legs from a pair of shorts, a slip of black lace against her shoulders peeping from a loose shirt. He forgets the pain.  

“Are we sure these are going to heal?” Bucky asks.  

“Steve’s did, a few years back,” 28 says brusquely. “Took less than a day, if I remember correctly.” 

“Really? How many did he get?”  

She shrugs, indicating a forgotten number. “We did his nipples. That was fun.”  

“You did what - ” 

“But don’t worry.” A winning, feral smile. “That’s not for you. Not tonight, anyway. Yours will be covered. Mostly.”  

A small comfort - especially when she turns to rummage through a small box of piercings in various sizes. Some are genuinely frightening, though Bucky isn’t about to voice that fear. Though he does gulp, when she picks out two matching studs, and starts to put one in the gun.  

“How bad is it going to be?” he asks in a squeak.  

“Bad. Gird up your loins, buddy.”  

Her gentle fingers using a pen to mark two even spaces beneath his bottom lip isn’t so bad. Feels good, actually. But he knows what’s coming, and so he swallows hard. No more shouting, Barnes. This is nothing compared to what you’ve been through, you coward. No shouting. No -  

“Ughhh!”  

Not a shout. Just a groan that echoes in the bathroom, and he tastes blood.  

“One more,” 28 tells him bracingly, and he peeps open a glaring eye to see her smile. “One more, and we’re done for tonight.” 

“For tonight?”  

“Just one more!”  

Bucky hopes, in his heart of hearts, that Sam hadn’t suggested to the others that they listen at the door.  

“Done,” 28 announces, and he breathes through his mouth as she starts to clean up the mess on the counter. “Hopefully they’ll heal enough to look like they’ve been there a while by the weekend. And tomorrow we can do your tattoos and hair!” 

“My hair?” Bucky chokes. “Tattoos? Babe! What kind of mission is this?”  

“A sensitive one.” But she’s grinning over her shoulder, eyes raking over his face and lingering on his new...holes. “And you’re the only one that can take the lead. Steve’s done the grunge undercover before, but I’m telling you - it was not good.”  

“I’m not sure if that’s very complimentary,” he grumbles. Then stands, blood rushing to his head, and he bites his tongue as he folds up the chair to put away.  

“You’ll do great,” 28 promises, and arms full of things to take back to the underground costuming department, her hip bumps into his back end, and he forgets the pain again as the jolt brushes warmly against him through the thin fabric of his gym shorts. Now that the threat is over (for now) he can remember the sultry promise she’d whispered in his ear after the team meeting that morning, after he’d been assigned to this mission with only Agent 41 as backup (and maybe that’s part of his apprehension) - and he has a feeling that promise might be coming to pass sooner rather than later. 

Yes, he can get over the stinging pain of his new ear and lip decorations. He wonders if the lip piercings will affect...ah, his performance in certain activities.  

“I’ll be back.” And the door is left swung open as she wanders for the elevator, humming her song.  

Be back. She’ll be back. Bucky stares after her for a minute more, and then rushes down the hall to put the folding chair away in a well-known (and thoroughly desecrated) storage closet. He’s even cheery enough to whistle, on his way, thinking of lighting some candles and maybe a spray of that cologne she likes so much… 

But his whistling falls flat, and his tongue finds the inside stud of the piercings below his lips. With a grimace he shoulders the door shut, and brings up his fingers to touch the cool metal.  

He can already imagine Sam’s laughing face. Now you’re even more tin, Tin-man!  

To distract himself, he brushes his teeth (gingerly), and without looking in the mirror. Then finds the few candles 28 keeps in a dresser drawer to spread out and light to flicker gently around the room. She’s still not back by then, so Bucky doffs his shirt to throw into the laundry for good measure. Stretching out on the bed, he stifles a yawn, weaving his hands behind his head. Then he flops onto his side to face the door, hoping he looks as seductive as she does when she lays out like this.  

A knock at the door crawls pleasantly over his skin - wondering why she’s bothering with this unnecessary formality, Bucky calls out a warm, “Come in!” before threading his fingers through the loose ends of his hair in some attempt at casual sexiness, like he’s seen movie stars do.  

But it’s not 28 that peeks through the door, and his gut plummets to his feet.  

“Whee!” Sam is howling, his wrist snaking through the crack, phone in hand, and Bucky’s heart nearly stops in horror as he hears a tell-tale click! Beneath Sam’s face is 41, staring with her eyes wide and mouth open, and then Clint in the lowest position of this totem from hell, looking gleeful in a way that Bucky knows he’s going to have his work cut out for him regaining his reputation.  

“Get out!” he shouts, but it’s too little too late. The damage is done, and the door already snapped shut as the pillow he launches from the bed bounces harmlessly off the wall, a sad trophy of his indignity. Unfortunately the enormous scowl on his face has pulled painfully against the new piercings, and his mouth throbs - tenderly he touches them again as he falls back against the pillows, all hope of sexiness gone.  

It’s to that pathetic scene 28 returns: sliding through the door with a whiff of perfume, and after locking the door she pauses to pick up the fallen pillow, fluffing it with a solid punch.  

“I brought supplies for tomorrow,” she tells him, and Bucky grunts as the pillow is thrown into his gut. Meanwhile, the sound of boxes and other things being dumped in the bathroom, and how on earth can she still be so happy when he feels so miserable?  

Silhouetted in the candlelight, she draws his attention: arms crossed, that same studying expression that she’d worn earlier - but now it’s softened and sweetly sly, and her lips are twitching.  

“Go on,” he sighs. “Go ahead and laugh.”  

“I can’t laugh at you,” 28 tells him. Maybe a little rueful. “Oh, Buck - you look so miserable!” 

“Sam got a picture,” Bucky admits grudgingly.  

“Oh, dear. Should we hack into his phone tonight to erase it instead of…?” 

That piques his interest. Propping himself on an elbow, a flutter of life in his chest, he stares at his lover with growing eagerness. “You know...” he drawls at last, and he feels a grin coming on. “Bet we have time for both.”  

“What should we do first?” 28 asks, and her question is coy and taunting.  

“Hmm,”  Bucky pretends to think. “Sam could save it or send it before we get to it.” 

“True.”  

“But…is he really as important as this?” Waggling fingers between them, with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 28 bursts out laughing, and the sound is music, and her movements are music, too, as she saunters over with those eyes reflecting the light of a dozen candles.  

“Glad you think we’re important,” she coos, and leans over like a shadow. But her eyes are on his lips, and then her thumb is there, tracing the curve - and her eyes narrow. “I wonder what it’ll be like to kiss you.” 

“Only one way to find out. C’mere, babe - let me pay you back for the stand-up job you did on my face, crazy girl.” 

~

All the buoyant happiness and confidence, on lend from his other half, disappear within ten minutes of the mission.  

It’s the itchy fishnet sleeves of his shirt - if it can even be called that - and the sweltering, too-tight strain of his leather pants. It’s the stink of perfumes and bodies and alcohol and fried food. It’s the music playing so loud and with bass so deep that Bucky’s sure his bones are going to be rattled out of his body. And it’s not knowing the reflection he catches sight of above the bar - teal hair and thick eyeliner, absurd clothes, but at least his scowl is in character - or so 28 had said, laughing her pretty head off before he’d stalked out of the Tower.  

At least 41 is having the time of her life. Then again, with her cotton-candy-swirl hair and bouncing along to the music on the dancefloor, eyes closed in bliss despite that she’s likely deaf already - she seems to be fitting in perfectly.  

“Target just entered the building,” says a voice in his ear - Bucky isn’t sure he’d heard right at first - so he taps the comm device for clarification, and with a sigh Clint says, more loudly, “The target, Barnes! Your four o’clock. Get her.”  

Get her, Bucky grumbles to himself, but swivels on his barstool to glare out moodily (but casually!) in the direction he can see the target approaching the bar - red and black hair, heels that look like they could kill someone (and according to reports, they have), and a nose ring that reminds him of a Spanish bull. Go on and get her, Barnes. I’ll just stay out here in the Quinjet with my ears still in working order and tell you what to do. Hey, don’t go through a metal detector! 

And just his luck - the target sits in the stool next to him, with an interested once-over, and trying not to sigh aloud, Bucky turns back, casting her a smile as sly as he can manage.  

She returns the smile with another appraising flicker of the eyes, and then looks away to wave over the bartender.  

“Can I get you something, Beast Boy?” 

“Huh?” 

“Something to drink.” Then to the bartender, more loudly to be heard over the pulsing music, “Cosmo.” And the target’s eyes go back to Bucky, waiting.  

“Uh, whiskey, neat.”  

The bartender nods, and goes.  

“Is that how you picked up 28?” Clint asks in Bucky’s ear, and his hair stands on end as he licks his lips, the target turning slightly to face him with a smile that radiates ferality, but not in a good way. “Dude. I thought she had higher standards than that.” 

Bucky files away a determination to give Clint a good, old-fashioned bloody nose. But later.  

“I saw the way you were looking at me.” The target leans close, ruby-red lips too close to his ear for comfort - oh, that’s his personal space - but he doesn’t recoil, and forces himself to smile back.  

“Didn’t realize I was being so obvious,” he rasps back.  

“Oh, you were.” Her eyes glitter. They look black, but not a cozy black. And not the kind of glitter that he knows from you - this woman is all the lethality that 28 has, but all wrong. Out of time. Crooked. Dark. Corrupt.  

“Wow, she’s playing you like a fiddle,” Clint observes. “Let her keep playing. The FBI is on their way.”  

Idly Bucky wonders if 41 had even noticed the target. He doubts it. 

Scarlet-painted fingernails curl over his knee. He doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close call. Instead lets his own gaze drift over the target’s face (without shuddering, because her rap sheet is easy to recall when he’s within arms-reach), and her lips curl into a deeper, more frightening smile.  

“Here are your drinks!” chirps a voice.  

Bucky nearly falls out of his chair, vice-like grip on his knee or no. Because sliding two drinks on black napkins across the bar, absolutely beaming with plum-purple lipstick and a nose ring - is the only woman he wants to let touch him.  

The target slides a bill to 28, who takes it with a wink and a snap of bubble gum before disappearing around another bartender.  

“So,” the target says, and lifts her drink to her lips for a sip, and Bucky remembers that he has a whiskey. “A bright fella like you got a name?”

“Tom,” Bucky tells her.  

“Tom.” Her eyebrow quirks. “I like it.”  

“Thanks, it’s from my mom.”  

“You’ve been spending too much time with 28,” Clint complains. “Target’s not gonna take you seriously if you keep - ” 

“My name is Nova,” the target leans close again, with fruity breath. “My daddy gave it to me.”  

Bucky hears Clint gagging, and wishes he could do the same.  

“He’s over there,” she continues, nodding her head towards the door - Bucky turns, a knot of apprehension in his stomach, to see a massive, balding man staring stonily in their direction. As soon as he sees he has Bucky’s attention, he lifts the corner of his blazer to give a peek of a gun holster.  

Just one gun? He’d laugh if he could feel a shred of humor in the circumstances. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Nova purrs, and Bucky shivers - but thankfully, she mistakes his revulsion for interest. “Let me go to the little girls’ room for a minute, and I’ll take you home. I want to play.”  

He manages to nod, sipping his whiskey but his throat is already dry - and some instinct in his head is screaming at the top of its lungs: Get out of there!  

“ETA ten minutes,” Clint reports, as Nova winds her way through the crowd. Bucky doesn’t miss that she appraises several other clubbers - it’s a wonder that he’d gotten her attention, really.  

“Not soon enough,” Bucky grunts for Clint’s benefit.  

“Tough night?”  

Oh, that’s a pretty sound - and a welcome one. Tension dissipates from his shoulders as he hunches over the bar, catching sight of 28, just a step away, cleaning out glasses with pursed lips and laugh lines. But her gaze is tinged with sympathy, at least. And what is she wearing - more fishnets? A choker necklace? And a violently-violet wig that suits her better than he would have expected... 

“It’ll be over soon,” Bucky sighs. “Who let you come here, anyway?” 

“Steve and I had a chat,” she smiles, and sets a clean glass back in a neat row behind the bar. “He felt sorry for you. I was bored. We struck a deal.” 

“Deal?” 

“I come to keep an eye on you and Tiny Dancer,” 28 nods towards 41, but appears more amused by that situation than anything. “And...Steve gets to take all four of us on a run tomorrow morning.” 

“What!” Clint’s outburst over the comm makes it squeal, and Bucky flinches at the noise. “Why am I part of the deal?” 

“Because you, Robin Hood, have been watching 41 instead of the exits,” 28 tells him sweetly, tilting her head to address him in her own comm device. “The FBI won’t be getting in here alive.” 

Bucky’s stomach sinks. And he glances over towards the bathrooms - no sign of Nova. No sign of - of her daddy, either. He cringes.  

“But,” 28 adds, with a bright smile, and the next time she leans over to pick up a glass Bucky can see - there’s a fake tattoo beneath that choker necklace. Far below. Wait, is she just wearing a bra -  

Temptress, the tattoo says in bold script. How apt.  

“I will be heading out for the pregame,” she tells them. “As soon as your girlfriend is back from the potty. Just be aware, in case I don’t come back alive.” 

“I think it would take more than a couple backdoor thugs to take you out,” Clint says dully. 

“Why thank you, Clint, that’s very sweet of you.”  

“Five minutes ‘til the Feds show.”  

“And here’s our main star now,” 28 says brightly. “Wish me luck, fellas.”  

Bucky tries not to watch her go - drags his eyes back to the nefarious Nova, instead, but the retreating back of his actual girlfriend, and the love of his life, is like a magnet. But, because he wants to go home, he forces himself to play the part, and doesn’t shiver too badly when Nova wraps herself around him upon return with a grin that frightens him.  

“Wanna dance first?” Her breath is hot in his ear, fingernails raking dangerously across the back of his neck beneath his teal hair, and he swallows. 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

That’ll give 28 time to clear the exit, at least... 

As bad as forced flirting at the bar had been, dancing is worse. Evidently Nova is quite the handsy type, as Bucky suppresses his every instinct to run away to help 28 with her objective - and he can smell alcohol on the target’s breath, and how does she do anything with fingernails this long? And how is she still interested in him after beholding firsthand how he can’t even move his hips to the music correctly, as Clint gleefully points out (multiple times) over the comm. At least, that’s what he thinks Clint said - with the music thumping, it’s hard to be sure.  

“Clear!” comes 28’s panting voice, not nearly as soon as Bucky would have liked. “FBI just turned up, too. Wanna bring her out, Buck?”

Bucky leans forward with as sultry a smile as he can manage, and half-shouts into Nova’s ear, “Let’s head out.”  

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”  

“I hope Bucky isn’t too sad that his date is about to be arrested,” 28 goes on mournfully - probably for Clint’s benefit, as Clint starts to cackle, but Bucky just slings an arm around Nova’s shoulders to steer her towards the back, where he explains to her he has a motorcycle waiting. She seems to like that, with her hand pawing at the front of his chest as she lets him lead.  

“Seems to be plenty of other fish in the sea, as it were,” Clint says, wheezing slightly. “Bucky can just head back inside and find a new date. Did you see the girl in head-to-toe nylon?”  

“I did!” 28 chirps. “I stopped to ask her where she bought it. Very nice lady.”  

Bucky disguises a choke. Past the bar, past the bathrooms - the dingy, rust-colored door to the back alley is quiet, blooming under red lights with smears of paint on the walls. Tries to appear as though he’s enjoying the target’s teeth sinking into his ear, but he’s already planning a long, hot, and soapy shower.  

“Your place or mine?” Nova’s voice cloys in his ear.  

“Um - ” Bucky shoulders through the door, dragging her along by her waist -  

And into a waiting circle of FBI agents, flashing lights, and an unmarked van. Beside the van, Bucky’s happy to see, is the man termed Nova’s so-termed “daddy,” kneeling, cuffed, and bleeding slightly from a head wound. 28 stands smugly above him, arms crossed - and Bucky goes limp, staring at those fishnet stockings and - and - are those garters?  

Nova screeches, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Swarmed with officers, and coming out as tightly cuffed as the other man, and led away (despite that her screaming gets louder and louder) to the van, which is promptly opened, and she’s taken inside.  

“Not bad.”  

Now that’s a saunter Bucky will always love - he smiles at his girlfriend, who beams back before winding her arm through his - a much gentler, much more desired touch, as she leans her head against his shoulder, and the FBI agents start to mill away into their trucks and cars to head out of the alley.  

“I’ll never be the bait again,” Bucky vows.  

“You did good, though.” Eyes peer up at him, reflecting the flashing red and blue, but her smile is all sweet serenity, and he can’t help chortling, just a little bit.  

“We were lucky she took it.”  

“Well, I enjoyed the show,” Clint chimes in. “Now, which of you is going to go back inside and get 41 for me? She’s about to jump into a kiddie pool of glow stick juice.”