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queen-of-deans-booty · 22 days ago

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The Prisoner: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Now that Charlie is out of the way, you're getting your kids whether they want it or not. You're not asking this time. If they don't hand them over by sundown, Y/N won't be coming for them. The Scarlet Witch will, and they won't like what happens if she does.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

When the sheriff gives up their location, that's where Dean heads to next. He has to get this done before the sun goes down because that's when you're going to come back demanding to see your kids. He has to get this done before then. I hope Sam comes up with a plan because I'm not sure I'm ready to take her on. He's gonna have to be when you realize he's not going to hand over his children.

Dean drives over to the Styne's mansion where there are guards patrolling the outside. He sneaks up behind one of the guards and jumps onto his back, stabbing him in the neck. The man falls to the ground and Dean quickly moves on. There are two guards near the front door, and Dean sneaks up behind one of them. He has a gun with a silencer on it pointed at his back. The second guard turns and sees the first one with his hands raised in defense mode.

Dean points the gun at the second guard, shooting him in the head before taking the same gun and shooting the one right in front of him in the back, three times. He pushes him down to the ground before opening the front door. Old jazz music can be heard throughout the house but Dean doesn't see anyone just yet. Dean takes ten steps inside when all the lights come on, and at least a dozen men come out with their guns pointed at Dean. He's not stupid enough to try and take them all at once.

Monroe walks down the winding staircase with a smirk on his face.

"Dean Winchester." Eli appears behind Dean and places a bag over his head. Dean struggles for air but is quickly knocked down. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Dean is then taken to the basement and tied to a hospital table that one would find in an OR. Dean isn't down for long since the Mark wants him to fight. When Dean comes to, Monroe is looking down on him with a smile. The room is filled with medical equipment, a nurse, Monroe, and Eli.

"Morning, Sunshine. Monroe Styne. Pleasure."

"Ditto. I'd shake your hand, but uh..."

"Well I have to say, I am impressed with the way you charged in here, all guns blazin'. I'd buy tickets to that show. You didn't think that was actually gonna work, did you?" Monroe chuckles.

"Usually does."

"Then I guess you know what comes next."

"You're gonna play Operation."

"It's my favorite game," he grins.

"You don't want to do this. Trust me."

"Oh, son, we are well past the bargaining stage."

"No, I mean the Mark on my arm means that I can't die. I'm not bargaining. If you flatline me, I will come back but I'll come back with black eyes, and then you'll all die."

"If we'll let you go, then what?" Eli says, leaning over Dean's head to look at him. "You'll just mosey on down the road?"

"No, but I will be human so maybe a few of you live. Maybe," he smirks.

"You make a compelling case, and I hope you're right because a man that doesn't die, well now that is a perfect lab rat." Eli grabs a rag and shoves it inside Dean's mouth to gag him and keep him quiet. "Alright. Let's crack this piñata."

Monroe takes a scalpel and moves over Dean to make the first cut but Dean's eyes flash blue. He uses his magic and strength to break free of one of his restaurants and he grabs Monroe's arm. He headbutts him and grabs a knife from the operating table. Eli jumps into action but Dean slices his neck without even thinking. He uses the same knife on his other restraint so he's not free from the table.

The nurse grabs a syringe and runs at Dean but he blasts her into the wall with blue magic. Her head cracks on the wall, leaving behind a bloody trail as she slides down it. He gets off the table and marches right over to Monroe who is inches away from the elevator. Dean grabs him and puts him in a chokehold so that Monroe can't escape.

"You might not have done it directly but you took someone from me. Now I'm gonna take everything from you."

"It's too late. Your home... your family... they... will..."

Monroe struggles to breathe and get out words but Dean is done with him. He snaps his neck with your magic before letting him drop to the floor. Dean yanks off the gag and grabs the gun Monroe is keeping in his jacket pocket. Rage and pure fury clouds over his eyes as he heads up the stairs to kill every single last one of the Stynes, and he does so without blinking. Once he kills everyone in the Styne family, he makes his way back to the Bunker. One of them so graciously told him that Cryus, Roscoe, and Eldon were in the Bunker looking for him. What kind of man would he be if he didn't show up and meet them?

Dean returns to the Bunker and sneaks inside. All three men have overturned the Bunker and made a mess in almost all the rooms. He takes out the biggest one--the muscle of the group. He easily stabs him in the back and shoves him toward the library where the other two are. He falls into the wooden archway before falling to the ground, showing that he was stabbed in the back.

"Roscoe?"

If Roscoe is the one Dean just killed then Eldon and Cyrus are the other two. Dean walks into the library covered in blood--the blood of their family.

"Well, there he is. I hope you brought marshmallows," Eldon smirks.

"I've been looking for you."

"Oh yeah? Why is that? Oh, wait. You're not still sore about, um, what's her name?"

"Charlie." His voice is deadly calm. "Her name was Charlie. So, are we going to do this?"

"Straight to it, then. I respect that. See, you got lucky before. This time, I'm sporting some new upgrades. See my old man—"

"Your old man's dead. They're all dead. So, you can save me the speech on the three hearts, the two spleens, and the seven nipples, but even with all that, you still only have one brain."

"So?"

Dean takes out his gun and quickly shoots Eldon in the head, Cyrus covers his ears and lowers his head, scared of Dean. Eldon drops to the floor and Dean moves his gun to Cyrus.

"No, no, no, no, no," he panics and raises his hands. "Don't!"

"Why not? You're one of them."

"No, I'm not." His voice shakes. "Okay, I hate my family! See, look!" He pulls up his shirt to show smooth skin and no stitches. "No stitches! I'm not like them, I promise."

"Oh, you are like them. There's bad in you. It's in your blood. Now you can deny it and you can run from it all you want, but that bad will always win."

Cyrus shakes his head and cries silently.

"I'll do anything you want. Okay, please. You don't need to do this." He cries audibly. "Please."

"Yeah, I do."

Dean shoots Cryus in the head and watches as he falls to the ground, dead. Seconds later Cas and Sam come rushing into the library.

"Dean?"

"They're all dead. Every single one of them," he wipes the blood from his face and turns to Sam and Cas, "and I don't feel any better. Please tell me you cracked the book." Sam opens his mouth but Dean raises his hand to stop him. "I'm fine, Sam. I didn't go overboard. This was for Charlie. I did it for her."

"Fine." Sam has bigger fish to fry than to worry about who Dean killed. "Rowena is working on the book."

"Great. That's just fucking awesome!" Dean runs his hands through his hair. "It's almost sundown! Y/N is coming over here and we don't have my kids. She's going to kill us."

"No, I have a plan. It's only going to work if you listen to me."

Sam tells both Dean and Cas the plan. Cas is weary but Dean is immediately on board. This is what he's been practicing for. This is it. There is no more stalling. Right at sundown, you walk through the meal doors and down the metal staircase. You look at Sam and Dean who are standing in the archway between the war room and the library. You look at the piles of books and the three dead bodies inside.

"Whoa, what happened here? Did someone get a little angry?" Sam and Dean don't say a word. You look around the room in confusion. "I don't see them."

"They're not here."

"You two have no idea just how reasonable I have been."

"Yeah. Killing Charlie, killing Claire, betraying us more than once... I don't exactly call that being reasonable," Dean glares.

"What I have done was... mercy. In spite of your hypocrisies and insults, I have told you to simply get out of my way. You have exhausted my patience, but I do hope you understand that even now, what's about to happen... This is me... being... reasonable."

Sam and Dean raise their guns and fire at you but you fling the bullets away so they land in the walls instead of in you. You lift both of them with your magic and slam them into the wall, keeping them there so they can't move. Cas walks into the war room through the entrance on the left and uses his power to blast you away. You topple over the war table and chairs but Sam and Dean still stay there on the wall. You glare at Cas as you stand up but you're not afraid of him.

"So glad you could finally join us. I was just looking for you."

You blast the ground so you're levitating in mid-air, and you fly over to Cas before punching him down to the ground with your magic. He raises his hand that holds an angel blade but you grab his arm and snap it in two. You push your other hand into his chest and blast him back into the wall underneath the staircase. He tries to move but you've made it so that all three of them are stuck to the wall.

"I'm going to give you one last chance," you glare at Cas, "where are my children?" Again, he doesn't answer you. "You know what, I didn't play fair last time. It wasn't nice of me to make you choose between a girl you don't know and my kids. So, let's make this fun, shall we? Who do you love more? Sam and Dean or my kids?"

Sam definitely didn't imagine you'd sink this low but the plan is going just like he thought it would. He has to ride this out a little longer so you think you're the one in control.

"No! Leave them alone!" Cas yells at you.

"Fine! Tell me where they are!"

"Don't do it," Dean says.

You close your right hand into a fist, and both Sam and Dean's chests start to get tighter and tighter. It feels like someone is crushing their chests from all sides. He gasps in pain as does Sam but they can't move or do anything about it.

"I'll never tell you!" Cas shouts.

"Oh, yeah? What if Dean suddenly lost a lung?" Dean gasps for air the second one of his lungs disappears from his chest. You lift the magic on him and he falls to the ground on his knees. He clutches his chest and tries to breathe but he can't do so properly. "Can you tell me now?"

"No."

"Okay, I know," you grin. "Let's see what Sam looks like with severe internal bleeding." Sam drops to the ground and doubles over in pain. He vomits blood all over the ground from the injuries you've given him. Both of their chests still feel like they're being crushed so they don't know which will kill them first. "How about now?"

Cas struggles against the force of your magic with tears in his eyes.

"I can't."

"That's fine. I guess both of them will have to endure a flesh-eating virus."

Almost immediately, the skin on their faces starts peeling off from the virus. Dean can't breathe properly, Sam is losing a lot of blood from vomiting it all up, and both of them feel like their chests are going to cave in at any time.

"How about now, Castiel?!" you scream at him.

"Don't do it. Don't tell her, please," Dean gasps.

"Tell her," Sam groans. "Just fucking tell her where they are!"

"Fine! I'll tell you," Cas yells. You wait for him to speak while the brothers still make noises of pain on the ground. "They're in South Dakota. 42 Wallaby Way. They're inside the barn."

You release all magical hold and return the Winchesters back to their conditions before coming here.

"Now, was that so hard?" You walk over to the metal staircase. "Don't worry, Dean. I'll give them your love."

Sam and Dean stand up and watch you leave.

"Did it work?" Dean asks, rubbing his chest as if the pain is still there.

"The plan isn't over yet. Come on, we have to get there before she does."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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skyguys-princess · 4 months ago

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My Navigation

ABOUT ME

Tahlia. INFP. love chai lattes. introvert (most of the time). Pisces. Love gardening and reading.

Slow writer, I write when the mood strikes me.

CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, Scott Barringer, Sam Monroe, James Kelly, AJ, Lorenzo Di Lamberti, Stephen Glass, Clay Beresford…

MY master list

NEW WORKS

Vampire Anakin head canons.

#star wars #fanfiction #fandom #navigation #[ mistress amidala works ]#by: skyguy’s princess

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g4sstationdr-gs · 7 months ago

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can the spider sam monroe thing please pleaseeee become like an actual fanfic or head canons (if u want to ofc)

possibly.. 🤭

@sswiftiestars 👀👀👀

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awesomelyanxiouspanda · 2 years ago

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A Fiercely Bleeding Heart (Lucifer/OFC): Chapter 1

Emery (Our lovely OFC) owns a thriving coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Monroe City, Mo. She's well known for her unique coffee drinks and her "coffee charity". What happens when a woman with too much heart- and not nearly enough common sense- comes across the fallen archangel in his mostly human state? Will Lucifer behave, or will he bite the hand that (quite literally) feeds him?

Warnings/Tags: Loosely based around S.13 E. 13! Plus size OC, OC is gullible and a big softie, Lucifer in his nearly human form, Soft Lucifer, Dean and Sam cosplaying FBI agents again, Canon typical violence, Non-Canon compliant story line, Soulmate AU-ish?, smut in future chapters, canon typical cursing, NOT a slow burn, not beta’d we die like our king Crowley

A/N: Posted this on my AO3 but I figured I should share it on here too! So far I only have a few chapters planned for this, but we'll see how it goes because sometimes the plot bunnies have other ideas for me. Here's to hoping I can actually finish this one with some class!

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

“How long has he been out there?”

Amy turned from the register with a puzzled look on her face until she saw where I was facing. There was an obvious huff of frustration from her before she slid a little closer to me. Lifting my brow to her, I said nothing and waited, albeit impatiently.

“The old homeless-looking guy?” she whispered.

“No, the T-Rex,” I sighed heavily, unable to stop the roll of my eyes, “Of course, the guy, Amy, and you know how I feel about judging people.”

I felt bad for snapping at her once I saw the flush appear on her cheeks, but this was the third time in two weeks that she’d felt brazen enough to insult someone in my presence.

“Sorry, boss,” she muttered, “Um, he was already out there when Max and I opened.”

With a nod of understanding, I patted her shoulder and went into the back room. I wasted no time gathering up the pastries that were going out tonight before stuffing them in a paper bag and rushing again out to the front. I could feel Amy’s inquisitive eyes on my back as I poured a large black coffee into one of our to-go cups and dropped a few packets of sugar and creamer into the bag with the food.

“I’ll be right back,” I informed her.

“Okay.”

Checking to make sure that the man was still outside, I hurriedly meandered through the shop to the door. One of the customers tried to stop me on the way by, but I gently directed them to Amy at the register for any questions rather than waste time with it. Normally I was all about excellent customer service but I didn’t want to chance missing the opportunity to help. It was almost closing time already and who knew how long he’d linger. It had been painfully obvious, even from inside, that nobody was stopping for him.

The tinkle of the bell above the door drew his head up and, as if on instinct, he started asking for change until our eyes met.

“Oh, you work here, right? What, you coming to tell me I gotta leave or-”

“No, not at all,” I cut him off.

The irritated expression melted into one of confusion as I carefully lowered to my knees by him.

“Here, I want you to have these,” I explained as I stuck the coffee cup and bag out toward him, “I don’t know how you like your coffee but I put some sugar and creamer in the bag just in case. There’s also a stir stick and some napkins.”

The way he gazed down at the offered sustenance was one of distrust and I felt my heart clench. Call me a bleeding heart, a sucker, or whatever have you, but I could feel nothing other than sympathy and empathy for anyone who was down on their luck. I had been in that position at one point.

While he was busy pulling the food out of the bag, I took the chance to look him over closer. It didn’t hurt that the specific unlucky man was incredibly easy on the eyes. Warm skin and pursed lips were framed by a nice stubble and complemented by a head of perfectly ruffled blonde hair. It was obvious he was newer to the lifestyle; his tan coat was quite nice and his clothes were dirty but not yet torn. There was hope then, that maybe he’d be able to get back on his feet soon.

I was startled slightly when his head jerked up sharply and our eyes met for the first time. Icy blue depths searched my face openly and sent a shiver down my spine. Gods, he could be a fucking model, and yet somehow he was out here.

Offering him a half smile, I asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Is your boss gonna be okay with this?” he asked back.

“I think she’ll be okay with it, considering we share the same body,” I teased easily, “Emery, owner of Emery’s Espresso, nice to meet you.”

There was a flicker of confusion in his gaze before the corners of his lips turned up into a little smirk in a way that made my heart race.

“Nick,” he replied, “You’re sure about this?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be out here if I wasn’t sure. I give away everything that goes out at the end of the day anyway!”

After a few moments of silence, Nick seemed to accept my answer and pulled out a blueberry muffin.

“You’re the first person to offer me anything, ya know? You humans are stingier than my brothers,” he muttered as he bit into the muffin.

The “humans” comment struck me as odd but I let it roll off my back the instant I heard the groan he let out. It was almost pornographic and I couldn’t ignore the way my body tensed in response. His head suddenly dropped back against the wall and, for a moment, I was concerned he had passed out, but then he was back up and nearly inhaling his food.

A little chuckle escaped before I could stop it and I was rewarded with a heavy glance.

“Sorry, I’m just glad you like it,” I explained easily with burning cheeks, “I have to get back inside because we gotta start end of the day cleaning, but you’re welcome to come until we close if you want to be a little more comfortable.”

“You serious?” he asked around a mouthful of muffin.

Biting my lip gently, I nodded and got to my feet.

“I don’t know how long you’ll be around but you’re welcome to come in anytime you need. Free black coffee to your heart’s content and it’s much warmer.”

The light feeling in my chest swelled at the way he looked up at me, almost as if in awe before he nearly jumped to his feet to follow. I held the door open behind me and gestured him to the little seating area by the electric fireplace in the corner.

“Make yourself at home, Nick,” I said, “I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”

He didn’t say anything back but I heard him muttering under his breath as I walked away, and his words brought a grin to my face.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were some kind of angel.”

There was obvious disbelief in Amy’s expression as I made my way behind the counter.

“Yes?” I urged her quietly.

Her lips parted as if to speak but she seemed to stop herself and instead shook her head.

“Nothing, sorry,” she replied finally, “Are we good to start cleaning now?”

“Yep yep, I’ll be in back counting inventory if you want to start wiping down tables and shut down the machines,” I instructed her.

She nodded once before grabbing up the disinfectant and a rag. I observed for a moment, reassuring myself that she wouldn’t start any issues over the fact that I had invited Nick in, before I went back.

Thankfully, the last half hour of the day went by quickly. Once everything was cleaned up and the to-do list was made up for tomorrow, I returned to the front of the shop.

“All ready to go?”

Amy spun around with a grimace and nodded, before asking, “Yeah, but what are we gonna do about him? He hasn’t left yet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied with a wave of my hand, “I’ll let him know it’s time to go. Just get your purse and coat.”

While she went into the staff room, I headed over toward Nick, who looked to be rather enjoying his current position. Head back on the cushions and feet up on the ottoman, he seemed to be fast asleep and I felt a pang of guilt for having to wake him up. Unfortunately, I knew that logically it was a necessity.

When I finally reached him in the corner, I was debating reaching out for him or just calling his name when suddenly one of his eyes peeked open.

“Times up, huh?” he sighed heavily.

I gave him a little smile and offered him a hand.

“That it is,” I replied, “Can’t bully my staff into staying late, after all.”

Amy snorted a laugh behind me as she passed by to open the door.

“You know I wouldn’t complain about the overtime,” she snickered.

My eyes rolled before I could stop them and I shot her a good-natured scowl.

“Don’t push it, kiddo.”

She grinned brightly but it dimmed quickly as I felt Nick grab my hand, allowing me to help him up. A wave of flutters lit through my stomach as I took in the textured skin of his hand and tried incredibly hard not to swoon over the way he essentially towered over me. I quickly battled away my inner thought and sidestepped to let him through, following them both out and locking the door behind us.

“See you tomorrow?” Amy asked, obviously hesitant to leave me alone with a strange man.

Flashing her a reassuring smile, I nudged her gently and said, “Yes, now go on and get home to your little boy toy.”

I could hear her muttering playfully as she turned around and gave a quick wave.

“You sure it’s a good idea to be alone with a man you just met?” Nick asked suddenly.

Shocked that he seemed to know exactly what I had thought, I looked up at him in curiosity before giving a little shrug.

“You planning on mugging me?” I replied.

There was a second of tense silence where only the sounds of the nightlife pushed around us, but then a smirk broke out across his face.

“Nah, how would I get free coffee then?” he retorted.

I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and a wave of relief rushed through my veins.

“Good to know I’m good for something,” I joked back.

I knew I should just get in my car and leave for the night, but my conscience kept pestering me the longer I debated it.

“Do you have somewhere you’re staying?” I finally asked, “I could give you a ride or something since it’s so cold…”

I felt as shocked as he looked at the words that had escaped but hastily covered it up, crossing my arms across my chest, trying not to babble away the awkwardness that now filled my throat.

“That’s real thoughtful of you, doll, but I’m just crashing up at the hobo camp down the road,” he answered, “It’s temporary. Waiting to hear from my siblings to get some misunderstandings figured out.”

“Oh, of course! Well, I’ll be in at 5 in the morning if you find yourself in need of caffeine or warmth… Do you have bedding or a bigger coat?”

Honestly, at this point, I couldn’t figure out why my brain kept coming up with excuses to talk to him but I tried to blame it on my sympathy for him. Not at all because he was a decidedly gorgeous man and I was being a thirsty bitch.

“Nah, this is all I got. Didn’t exactly pack for the weather when I got kicked out of my own home,” he muttered with a bitter laugh.

Before I could second-guess myself, I swallowed thickly and said, “If that’s the case, I insist you let me get you a sleeping bag and blanket, or even a warmer coat at the very least.”

The way his eyebrows shot up you’d think I’d offered him a million dollars.

“You really are different, aren’t you,” he mused softly before his gaze hardened and he suddenly stepped closer, “Why are you doing this? Do you know who I am or what? Is this some long game, because let me tell you something, sister, this won’t-”

I backed away instinctively until my back hit the wall.

“Hey, hey, no. I’m just trying to be nice is all!” I assured him hastily.

A rush of fear, and something much more forbidden, shot up my spine as he slammed his hands into the brick behind me, effectively pinning me in. If this were any other situation, I’d have thought- hoped- he was going to kiss me. Unfortunately, that was not the situation.

“Bullshit. No human is this nice. You're all full of greed and pride, blowing each other up over stupid shit and finding reasons to hate each other!” he snapped.

As he leaned in close, I could feel my heart high in my throat, pounding so loud it drowned out all other sounds. Could he hear it too? Breathing became even harder once he was at eye level and I could see all the emotions storming through those daunting blue irises. Another little jolt of lust had my thighs squeezing together as his hand took hold of my jaw and tilted my head back.

Fuck! Was it obvious how he was affecting me? Gods I hoped not. I shouldn’t even be having this reaction to him anyway! Not when it was so clear that he was dangerously unstable.

“I-I’m being honest,” I stammered out, “I just want- want to help you. Please, please don’t do this.”

My voice gave out near the end from the flood of emotions and unbidden tears filled my eyes fast. What had I gotten myself into?

“And just why do you want to help?” he asked, voice laced heavily with sarcasm, “What do you get out of it?”

At that, my brows furrowed in thought. Did he really think so horribly of other people? What had the poor guy been through to think that everyone was only out for themselves?

“I get the satisfaction of knowing I helped someone, that I didn’t just stand by and let someone be in pain when I could do something about it,” I answered, voice a little more firm this time.

“And that’s it?” he pushed, thumb and finger gripping my chin even tighter.

With a little hiss, I grimaced out a “yes” only to earn a narrowed glare in return. I tried not to focus on how- surprisingly- good he smelled, nor how his eyes made me want to crumble to pieces. After what seemed like hours, he finally released his hold on my face and drew back to his full height.

I felt at a loss for what to do. Where did we go from this? Did I run? Did I call the police? Did I bar him from the shop?

My attention was pulled back to Nick as he suddenly stepped back with a low groan, a big hand rubbing down his face in frustration.

“Look, fuck, I’m sorry, okay? I just… things have been rough these last few days and I’ve found myself in a position I’ve never been in, relying on humans. It used to be that, with a snap of my fingers, I could have anything I wanted. I didn’t have to worry about the cold, about food. People respected, feared me, and just look at me now? Sleeping on the street like some common trash, begging and stealing for food. And don’t even get me started on the assholes that walk around here like royalty. If they only knew who I was…”

As I listened to his rant, what little bit of fear I had clinging to my gut finally let go. Nick didn’t seem like a horrible person, just someone who was lost and hurt, and maybe a tad bit out of touch with reality. I was once again reminded of my short stint on the side streets of Chicago and couldn’t find it in my heart to hold his outburst against him.

“I understand,” I whispered.

“No, no you really don’t, toots.”

Rather than argue with him, I let out a sigh and crossed my arms defensively across my chest once more.

“Alright, back to my original question,” I muttered, “Do you want a coat or not?”

Nick paused in his aggravated pacing and shot me a look that told me, without words, that he thought I was insane.

“You’re just a glutton for punishment, aren’t ya doll?” he chuckled.

“Yes or no, Nick,” I snapped.

Even my endless patience was wearing thin. It was cold out. I was tired and hungry. I just wanted to get this over with so I could get home, put on pajamas, and drink a glass of wine while binging Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

A soft look took over his eyes before he nodded curtly.

“Okay, good, get in the car. Walmart’s not that far from here.”

…

The familiar tinkle of the shop’s bell tore my gaze to the door. It took everything in my willpower not to let the disappointment I felt show up on my face when I realized it wasn’t Nick coming in.

It had been a week since I’d seen him. A full seven days since I set him up with a sleeping bag, coat, and duffle bag full of food and drinks. A full six nights since he’d made my heart race faster than anyone ever had; in both good and terrible ways. At first, I’d thought maybe he was just avoiding coming back because of the awkwardness, but now I was starting to fear the worst. Especially with the murder that had happened less than twenty-four hours ago.

I stifled the sigh that threatened to fall from my lips and tried to refocus on the now, flashing a false smile to the woman who approached the register. After taking her order, I went mindlessly through the motions of creating her latte while debating my sanity.

It was crazy. I had literally spent less than four hours with the guy and knew basically nothing about him other than his name- hell if that was even real. The only thing I did know for sure about him was how damn hot he was. So why was I letting some random ass, possibly crazy, man affect me so? After handing out the drink, I rested my hip against the counter and checked the clock on the wall.

“Thank gods it’s almost over,” I huffed under my breath.

Five fifteen. I had fifteen more minutes before I could lock up and head home. Seeing as the count was already done and everything cleaned, save the last espresso machine, I could make it out right on time tonight and I was beyond grateful for it. The weather outside was getting rough and I didn’t want to get stuck anywhere in the snowstorm. Already, the sidewalks were full of slushy grey piles and barren of most people.

I managed to pass the last minutes of the day rather quickly by focusing on sweeping up the dining area and singing little songs in my head. I had just switched to humming “Sweet Bird” when suddenly the door opened once more. Checking the time on the clock, I hastily turned toward the door with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I’m just about to close up,” I started, almost mechanically, “I know the Starbucks down the road is open til-”

My mouth went dry as I looked over the two men in suits now blocking the doorway. Holy fuck. Was there just a gorgeous man convention in town or what?! I couldn’t help but look them over as they reached into the back pockets. While both donned matching black suits, the two couldn’t look more different. The one on the right was ginormously tall, with shaggy brown hair that I was envious of framing his sharp jawline and soft green eyes that reminded me of a puppy. The other on the left was shorter but still much taller than my own five-foot frame. His dark dirty blonde hair was styled in a short and clean crew cut that fit his rogueish good looks and piercing green eyes that made my gut twist in a strange way.

My thoughts were interrupted when they moved in closer. As if planned, the two flipped open the wallets in their hands simultaneously to show off the large letters ‘F.B.I’, and a sudden acrid taste of fear rose like bile in my throat as I watched them pocket their ID’s once more. What was the FBI doing in my shop?

“Good evening, ma’am, Agents Elliot and Russell,” the taller of the two greeted kindly, “We’re sorry to come in so late but we needed to ask a few questions.”

“About?” I replied uncertainly.

“There was a murder that happened just down the street yesterday and we’re following up on that,” the shorter one- Agent Russell- explained.

“Oh.. yeah, I heard about that. Did- Did they ever figure out who the man was?”

The two shared a look before Agent Elliot cleared his throat.

“Yes, it was a local real estate agent by the name of Matthew Gross,” he said, “Did you know him?”

I shook my head but already my mind was already a million miles away. Of course, I’d heard the talk of nearly every customer that had come in after the murder but no details had been released yet. It was with a little sigh that a sick sense of relief flowed through my form, a subconscious tension in my gut releasing under hearing it hadn’t been my newfound crush that was butchered.

“Ma’am?”

My head snapped up and I couldn’t help but blush as I realized I had zoned out in front of the agents.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s been a long day,” I murmured, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were sure,” Agent Russell said gruffly.

Swallowing hard, I replied, “I’m sure. I’ve never heard that name before.”

He nodded once as his partner stepped even closer.

“Sorry, just one last question,” Agent Elliot assured me, “Have you seen this man around?”

I tried my damndest to ignore the butterflies filling my stomach as I was forced to look up to see his face. Damn these tall ass handsome men.

Once he turned his phone my way, I dropped my gaze, and suddenly all the feel-good feelings were sucked from my veins. The handsome mug smirking into the camera left my body weak and ready to collapse. Nick.

“I- I don’t think so,” I rushed out carelessly, “Why? Is he the one who did that?!”

Another unspoken communication passed between the two with a solemn look before Agent Elliot gave me a forced smile.

“We’re not sure. He’s a possible key witness so we’re hoping to find him,” he explained, reaching into his pocket before thrusting a business card my way, “If you do see him, could you give us a call?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.”

The lie felt as thick as tar on my tongue but I managed a smile in their direction through it all.

“Thanks for your time, and sorry again for keeping you,” Agent Elliot said.

“It’s no problem, have a good night, guys.”

I pretended to get distracted by my sweeping once more but the moment they were out of sight, I rushed over and locked the door before hauling ass back to the counter. My blood pounded a frantic beat in my ears as I stared unseeing at the little white card.

Why? Why in the actual fuck had I lied about seeing him? Why didn’t I just tell them that I’d helped him and where he was staying?!

Before I could stop it, the feelings of disgust became tangible and came out violently into the waste bin beneath the counter. The cool tile beneath my knees did little to soothe the panicked heat flushing my body. I needed to go home. I needed a cold shower. I needed to take a serious look at myself and figure out what the hell I was going to do.

And I, quite possibly, needed to build an alibi in the case that they discovered I’d helped out the maybe murderer just a week ago.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

#supernatural lucifer #lucifer in his human form #supernatural lucifer fanfiction #ofc #lucifer/oc #original female character

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muutosarchive · 2 years ago

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👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

For Secundo, Terzo, and Judith.

I was also gonna ask for Copia but we know about his canonical ghostly interactions so.

𝐎𝐂 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒! / / @dilffactory

so regarding secundo, i haven't really written it much but in my head (also thanks to sam) i can't get over the idea of secundo having personally summoned alpha, not to mention his summonings being a task that is embarked on by him alone. yet, i also believe his empathic nature attracts the dead to him. secundo, due to his religion, initially believed that our souls will be sent to the fire to rest eternally. now, when he does encounter spirits he infers it as a sort of purgatory. i'd say probably in his days as a cardinal he's dabbled in ouija & communication practices, yet at the same time i feel like due to his sensing of auras and the abilities he has -- he's kind of got one foot into the spiritual realm. i believe just as human auras flock, the dead will feel safe in that he is a man to be trusted with their feelings. sort of a conduit of emotion, i feel as though it would be highly regular for secundo to just see ghosts. in his moments alone in the graveyard, perhaps -- or just walking by, he might see one weaving through the tombstones. or, maybe in the back pew during black mass. he acknowledges them, perhaps they acknowledge each other.

i think terzo has the capacity to believe in anything mystical. in my head he's a very pro-fortune kind of guy. he'll read your palm, your cards... he's no secundo, he has to make his own premonitions.. but he will. perhaps due to jealousy, secundo tells little people about his afflictions yet terzo does know, & it infuriated him for years (and still) that his brother is more 'special' than he. i feel like if he wasn't a satanic clergyman he'd probably be a scammer, doing all that shit above / seances to channel marilyn monroe or charlie chaplin or some shit. or like, pretend to be a medium. but, i think he'd probably actually tried to do seances as a teenager, & maybe beyond. perhaps he'd even try it now, if someone asked him. tbh i'm already way off topic but i also, in my head, imagine him being able to do small little magic tricks / party tricks, like the dove gag & perhaps making things appear from behind your ear, & slide of hand. has terzo ever seen a ghost? no. at least not one he knew was a ghost. i think he's seen anomalies caused by them, such as using a planchette on a ouija board, or with flickering lights or moving / floating items. he's even felt phantom touches, before. but he is aware that there is no one without the other, & that this makes anything possible. he is not sure if ghosts are ghosts, or something else undefined. though he does not banish the idea, nor try to explain away his experiences.

she's still figuring out what she believes. in the ghost verse, in main verse -- in every verse, she's on a journey to find out what she really feels instead of letting biases of the world decide for her. her head is really jumbled up, not knowing if she can trust the one thing she's known her entire life. one side saying god is the only way to salvation, while the other almost condemns her for her faith alone. saying that after being educated, if she stood for the church she was an evil fool. religion itself believes in possession, though this is more in the demonic sense. yet there are also things like guardian angels, or being chosen by a saint. i think she believes that the people we love are watching over us from somewhere or another, but to what extent she doesn't know. i think she wants to let the world surprise her, as she doesn't like dealing with definite things. she's much happier being open to all possibilities. but with her view point expanding, & seeing all the interesting things she has? the things without explaination? i think she believes in ghosts, yet i don't think she's ever had an experience. if not something minor, an overlooked.

#judith andrews * / headcanon #papa emeritus iii * / headcanon #papa emeritus ii * / headcanon #headcanon.#lmfao i went off on the first two #misc * / out of character

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the-seas-song · 4 months ago

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@transexualpirate I debated about posting this because I'm a cis woman and this is NOT my area of expertise (so please correct me if I accidentally say something transphobic).

But. This is already? mcu canon???

It's not just Steve's narrative that's so trans-coded its subtext is practically text (here and here). He also has a feminized body and mannerisms, and is objectified by the camera lens even more often than Natasha.

Disclaimer: Chris Evans is obviously a cis man, I am solely talking about Steve's portrayal in the films. This post is obviously based on cisnormative standards.

Breasts and Abs

This picture speaks for itself:

(source)

But first, let's look at pre-serum Steve:

A guy as skinny and sickly as Steve shouldn't have any fat/muscle on his chest, but instead he looks like an AA or A cup size. He's also naturally hairless.

Back to post-serum Steve:

Steve is still naturally hairless, and his muscles - especially his abs - have a softness to them the other mcu guys don't. (and those tits are definitely not an A cup anymore!)

We can also see his belt digging into his hips, but his pants have been arranged so we can't see any hint of a bulge.

Obviously we aren't supposed to - these are PG 13 superhero films - but it does leave the door wide open for head canons. Especially since we can see CE's bugle in bts USO shots, but not in the actual film:

(though since it was the 1940s, they would have insisted on hiding it somehow anyway)

Body Shape

The following two pictures are from an article written by a clinic for trans women:

The two relevant things for this post is that the woman's lower back/spine is significantly curvier, and that the woman's butt is as wide as her thighs.

Steve has both of these traits:

I wonder if one of the reasons certain fan groups are so triggered by Steve's A1 suit (even though it was the one that started the whole ass thing in the first place!) is because it follows his curves, instead of minimizing them:

Walking Style

MD Todd Martin discusses the differences in masculine and feminine walking styles in this youtube video (the relevant parts are 1:59 – 8:15).

The masculine walking style leads from the upper core, and so the hips stay neutral and while there is some forward arm swing, they fall back into neutral, instead of moving behind the body.

The feminine walking style leads from the hips and lower abs, making the hips sway and the arms swing both forward and backwards.

Steve naturally has the feminine walking style. The best example is in AOU, when Steve and Maria Hill are discussing Ultron. If you watch the clip you will see they have the same exact walking style.

A good clip to contrast that one with is from the AOU party scene, when Steve and Sam are walking together (1:18-1:35). You can see they have completely different walking styles.

And if you just want to see Steve's hips moving flamboyantly, the EG moment when he says "Emergency generators are on standby" is another excellent example.

Posing Style

Steve has two different posing styles; one belongs to Cap and one belongs to Steve. Cap stands in his own version of parade rest:

Steve, on the other hand, poses like a model. This is my favorite childhood live-action character, Hannah Montana:

and this is Steve:

Putting all of our weight on one leg and cocking our hip is a very common pose for women - I find myself doing it when standing in line in the grocery store. Maybe it has something to do with hip placement?

Flirting Style

Behavioral scientists have identified several common flirting techniques. The two most common flirting techniques for women are doe eyes and siren eyes.

Doe eyes involves tilting your head down and looking at a man with big innocent eyes. (see here for a few examples).

Siren eyes refers to partially lidded eyes. They are almost always pared with a movement that exposes a woman's neck (which releases pheromones). Marilyn Monroe was famous for this look.

Here is a tiktok that compares both gazes. Steve uses both flirting methods:

Put your jugular away, Steven. Are you trying to win a fight by making Tony bite you? (this is when he says, "And you're all about style, aren't you?")

Three examples of sweet and innocent doe eyes.

This is doe eyes combined with a seductive pout. He manages to pull it off without any duck face!

More of the classic Marilyn Monroe look - exposed neck, tilted head, and siren eyes.

Camera Angles and Framing

I'm near the end of tumblr's picture limit, and there are far too many moments of Steve being sexually objectified by the camera for me to list them all. So I'm going to use up my picture limit and finish this post with a direct comparison of him and Tony:

We get three close ups here - one of Steve's crotch, one of his open mouth and heaving chest, and one of Batroc's titillating expression.

Tony, on the other hand:

isn't all but molested by the camera. He gets a standard wide shot - a shot that does not change as he gets back on his feet.

now that i know that this is steve rogers i no longer hate the artist. matter of fact i think they should have added more curves

NOOOOOO SHUT UP

#Fem!Steve #Steve #Steve meta #Stony #Romanogers #Mine

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samthemarvelfan · 5 years ago

Text

Goodbyes: Chapter Eight

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark

Warnings: ANGST, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, slow burn, alcohol, flirting, swearing. I think that’s it! Def not following a specific MCU canon or timeline.

A/N: I legit can’t believe the love from you all! Gosh my lil heart might burst! Please stick with me after this chapter and please don’t hate me! Patience is a virtue after all. Thank you for every comment, like, message and reblog. Love you endlessly. <3

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry! Tags are OPEN!)

Three fucking weeks.

At this point, you were almost positive you were losing your mind.

Everyone was still in Romania, and you hadn’t had any actual contact with the team. Sam occasionally gave you the smallest of updates, usual in the form of a message that said “we’re alive.”

Gotta love that detail.

Wanda had checked on you too, making sure you were eating, as you had a tendency to forget to when you were stressed.

What drove you mad more than anything was that you hadn’t heard from Bucky. Was it really all in your head? The two of you connecting finally, and then he just vanished without a word?

Sure, maybe you were being irrational and needy. He was working; risking his life for the greater good after all. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

“Miss Monroe, you’re receiving a call.” FRIDAY’s voice announced.

You jumped off the couch and ran to comm beacon in the middle of the table.

“Hello?” You ask, hopeful.

“Hey, Punchline! Miss me?” Sam’s humorous tone asked.

You couldn’t even speak, the only sound escaping your lips was an almost sob of relief.

You hear Steve chuckle in the background. “I’ll take that as a yes, meet us on the roof in 5?”

“You bet.” You reply quickly.

You pull your gray, half-zip hoodie over your head as you jog to the elevator. “Flight deck.” You announce as you enter.

The doors close and you hear and feel the rumble of the Quinjet docking. “Finally.” You whisper to yourself.

You get to the roof and see the bay doors opening as the ramp drops. Steve is the first one out, followed swiftly by Sam.

“You guys look the shit.” You jest, running at Steve with open arms.

He wraps you in the tightest hug, “Missed you too, Ella.” He laughs.

“How ‘bout me?” Sam asks. You turn to him with a smile, and he embraced you too.

“Is everyone alright? Did you...did you guys...is it done?” You couldn’t really formulate a thought, your mind still wondering how the hell they survived.

Steve nodded. “Every ounce of data we could extract, we did. That base wasn’t even close to inactive. In fact, it was the hub for HYDRA’s new order.”

Your mouth dropped, “What?”

Sam spoke, “Don’t worry, there’s a debriefing tomorrow, we’ll let you know everything we know.”

Your eyes glance behind Steve and Sam. You see Wanda and Vision exit the plane, relieved that they’re okay. You were chewing on your bottom lip, feeling the impatience take hold of you.

Where the hell is he? You thought.

“Hey Ella, listen—“ Sam said, but you tuned him out, hearing more footsteps on the ramp.

There he was, Bucky, safe and—what?

He was holding someone. A woman. Carrying her like a parent does their child after they’ve fallen asleep in the car.

She was stunning. Milky skin with gorgeous red locks. You knew who this was without a doubt, recalling her photo from the file you’d read months ago. Natasha, the Black Widow.

She was smiling. He was smiling. A real, genuine, happy look graced his face as he walked towards you all.

“Barnes, you can put me down now.” She laughed.

He shook his head, “Not a chance, Kitten. Can’t have you runnin’ off on me again can we?”

She pushed some hair out of his face, “I’m not going anywhere this time. I found what I was looking for, and I don’t intend on letting it go.” She smirked her perfect lips at him, causing him to blush.

Bucky places her gently on her feet before looking at you. His eyes looked panicked as he took in the expression on your face.

“You must be Ella! Nice to meet you, I’m Nat. Steve’s told me so much about you.” She smiled, pulling you in for a hug.

Why didn’t Bucky tell you about me? You think begrudgingly.

A smile graced your face nonetheless as you return the hug. “Its an honor, you’re a legend.” You say in an attempt to control your tone. It was true, too. Natasha Romanoff was infamous in your line of work.

“Don’t boost her ego, Kid.” Tony says walking by you.

You smiled politely, eager to escape to your room. “Well you guys must be exhausted, I’ll let you—“

“Hell no. I need a drink and I need one now.” Sam said as he walked towards the door leading back inside.

“You think you get to drink alone, Wilson? I don’t believe that’s how this relationship works.” Tony said as he completed his retinal scan by the keypad.

“We’re gonna have a ‘hey look at that, none of us died’ dinner tonight. Pizza, beer, booze, music. 8 o’clock in the lounge.” Tony said disappearing inside.

You turned around to see Bucky whispering in Natasha’s ear, both laughing like giddy fucking schoolgirls.

Are they...does he...is she... you’re brain tried to think, but it couldn’t seem to complete a thought.

You wanted to punch him in that smug face of his. He didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye to you when he left, and now that he’s back he has the audacity to not say two words to you?

“I’m always down for pizza, how ‘bout you Ella?” Steve asked, swinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you back inside.

Bucky eyed Steve with a curious look, but you couldn’t help smiling at your friend, “Is that even a question, Steve? Pizza is a main food group in my opinion, you know that.”

He and Nat were swiftly on you heels. “You sure about that Els? You look exhausted, have you been sleeping?” Bucky asks from behind you.

You stop suddenly and turn on your heel. Is he serious? The first thing he says to you is basically ‘you look like shit’ and ‘please don’t come to this party’.

“Now that you mention it, Sergeant, I haven’t been sleeping. I was worried about my friends. Wondering when and if I’d see them again, I’d hate to leave thing left unsaid,”

You grab Steve’s and Sam’s hand in each of yours and lift them, “But it looks like everyone I care about made it back on one piece.”

You turn back around and head into the elevator with everyone.

You stood in your room, fuming.

Is this really who you’ve become? This pathetic teenager pining after someone who will never be hers?

It sure seems that way.

Your stomach churns at the image of he and Nat...together.

An excessive groan leaves your lips as you flop on the bed, ready to let yourself wallow.

Your plans, however, are interrupted by a knock on your door. “What?!” You scream.

The door opens slowly, “I thought you’d have missed me?” Wanda says.

You shoot up, and smile like an idiot. “Of course I missed you, Wan. I’m so glad you’re back!” You embrace her.

The two of you had become quite close recently, and it was so nice to have a girl friend around again.

“Then why do I get the feeling I interrupted a wallowing session, hm?” She said slyly.

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Wan...” You scold.

“I know, I know—stay outta your head. But Ella, your thoughts are so loud I can barely hear my own!” She laughed.

You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, Wanda joining you.

“I’m just mad. I’m mad at myself for acting like a love struck teenager, I’m mad at him for yoyo-ing me all the damn time. I’m just...”

“In love.” She finished your sentence.

You laugh aloud, “Wan, you have to know someone to love them. That big oaf of a man is too damn stubborn to let anyone in! Besides, I don’t think it’s me he wants.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” She asked.

You stand heading to your closet, looking through clothes to wear for tonight.

“Nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

Wanda’s footsteps followed you, “I know you say Bucky’s stubborn, but so are you, Ella.” She smiled softly, her nimble fingers landing on a black velvet dress.

“This one.” She says. The long sleeved, deep v dress was your absolute favorite, and also very fancy.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” You ask.

She raised her eyebrows at you. “Uh, have you met Tony? He says ‘pizza and beer’ but he means a gala... with less people.”

“Fine, but I swear to God if you don’t dress up too then I’m coming back here and putting on pajamas.” You hold your pinky out to her.

She hooks it with a smile, “Deal.”

8 o’clock comes far too fast in your opinion.

You’d spent the last two hours in your bathroom doing your makeup and hair, and you look damn good.

The dress rested a bit below mid-thigh, and fit you perfectly. You make a mental not to thank Wanda later for forcing you into it.

“Breathe, Ella.” You say to yourself as the elevator carries you to the lounge floor.

Your black heels click through the corridor, the sound softening as your ears fill with classic rock from the end of the hall.

You slowly push the wooden door open, and spot everyone mingling. Maria Hill was there, as was Rhodey, and another man you’d never met before.

“Oh shoot! I didn’t know we had a supermodel living with us!” Sam shouts.

You laugh, “Oh shut up, you’ve clearly already been drinking.”

He shook his head, “So what? I still got eyes, don’t I?”

“You look beautiful.” Steve says cutting Sam off, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You blush, “Thank you, Steve. You boys clean up pretty nice too. I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other like this.”

Steve shakes his head, “Not exactly the suit I’m most comfortable in.” He took a sip of what you assume is scotch. “What are you drinkin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Honestly? Anything with vodka. Then I’ll have a shot or two.” You say, taking a seat at the high top table next to him.

“Coming right up, Sam why don’t you come with me fore you dig a deeper hole for yourself?”

You hear Sam grumbling as Steve drags him away, and you suddenly feel yourself being watched.

You scan the room, and spot him almost instantly. He’s standing with Nat, her back to you, leaning on the bar.

Bucky’s eyes, though glassy from the booze no doubt, had never been more focused.

His gaze roamed your body from your feet to your face. He licked his lips slowly, before capturing his bottom one in his teeth.

Shaking your head, you look away from him. “Don’t even think about it, buddy.” You mutter to yourself. You glance at him quickly one final time and see Nat waving her hand in front of his face.

Bucky’s trance seems to get broken and he falls back into conversation with her with ease.

“Moscow Mule? I think that’s what the bartender called it.” Steve says approaching you.

A light bulb suddenly goes off in your head.

“Steve? Can I ask for a favor?” You say, squeezing the lime into your drink

He nods, “Anything, what’s on your mind?”

You let out a large breath. “Okay, please don’t think I’m immature but I’ve been thoroughly pissed at your best pal over there,” you gesture with a nod of your head.

“and I’d really like to get him back for all the shit he’s put me through.”

Steve sips his drink again, as Sam places 3 shot of Jameson on the table. “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky’s breathing stopped the moment he saw her. He didn’t think she could get anymore beautiful.

Turns out he was incredibly, outstandingly wrong.

He felt his heat racing and his blood pumping, drowning out whatever Nat was telling him about her plans for the evening.

Ella’s eyes were everything to him. They bared her soul and showed him her heart at the same time. He’d never been able to see a future for himself, until she fell into his life.

He worried about her constantly. Not being able to see her or talk to her or hear her voice for nearly 3 weeks drove him crazy. Then seeing her in the state she was in, so obviously sleep deprived and stressed. He hated himself for making her worry so much, and it was clear she wasn’t too happy with him when he got back this morning.

“Hello, Earth to Barnes? Did you hear me?” Nat said, waving her hand.

Bucky shook his head, “No sorry, what was that?”

Nat smiled slyly. “Mhm, your girls got you in a tizzy, that’s for sure.” She said, sipping her martini.

Bucky smiled shyly. “She’s not my girl, no matter how much I wish she was.”

Nat slapped his lapel, “So what the fuck are you doing fuck standing here with me?!”

“Ow! Okay, okay! Christ, shouldn’t you be fucking Banner in a utility closet or something?” He laughed stepping away from her.

“All in good time, Barnes. Now go get your girl.” She said spinning away from him.

Bucky’s eyes traveled to where she was standing, but she wasn’t there. Sam was in her spot, downing a shot Bucky was sure he’d regret in the morning.

He maneuvered around the groups of people, searching for her. The soft rock music playing poignantly through the speakers, he sees a few couples dancing.

He scoots around them and spots Steve.

Good for him. He thought happily to himself.

When Steve sways around with his partner, he sees its not a random guest he’s dancing with. Steve is dancing with a beautiful girl, a woman, Bucky’s girl.

Bucky wants to throw up and kick his ass all at once.

But then he sees Ella.

She’s smiling, and comfortable. She’s happy as she rests her head on Steve’s chest, and sways to the rhythm of the song.

The alcohol in his system doesn’t make these feelings any easier to handle. His vibranium fist clenching and unclenching.

A whirring sound get both Steve and your attention. That’s when you see Bucky standing about 10 feet away from the two of you as he watches dance.

“Hey Buck, wh—“

“Shut the fuck up, Steve.” Bucky slurs.

Your eyes widen at the words he says to his friend. Bucky is visibly shaking, and obviously drunk—probably more so than you, and that’s saying something since Sam kept the shots coming.

“Bucky, stop.” You say before your mind can stop you.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh, “Not fucking him, huh?” He spat in anger as he pushed by you, leaving the lounge all together.

Steve looked to the door, then to you. Your eyes brimming with tears as you swallowed a sob.

He looks at you with a sad smile, and nods his head toward the door. “Go get him.”

Chapter Nine: Seen

#samthemarvelfan #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu bucky #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Goodbyes

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years ago

Text

Weekly Recap | September 2-8

It seems this week’s rec is making up for the short one I had last week XD Enjoy!

PS: if you’re a writer/fanartist and I’ve tagged you on Tumblr, but not Twitter (or vice versa), and you have an account on both platforms, please let me know! It’s probably because I don’t know your username(s) on every platform.

Complete

This Bucky with This Steve by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Actors AU | 1,8K | Not rated): Ascendant star Bucky with washed up but hoping for a comeback Steve...

💙 The Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue (for Magical Creatures) by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Shrunkyclunks, witch Bucky | 5,6K | General): In which Steve Rogers stumbles across the Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue for Magical Creatures, meets a witch named Bucky, accidentally adopts a unicorn, and never wants to leave.

💙 You be yours and I'll be mine by verzacefatale/ @verzacefatale (Post-CW |13K | Explicit): “Oh, god. We got married, didn’t we?” Steve sounds like he’s trying not to panic. “Seems that way,” Bucky says, before he bursts out laughing at the bewildered look on Steve’s face. “Come on, pal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Keep Me by dixons_mama (Evanstan RPF | 1,6K | Explicit): After working endlessly on interviews for Disney, filming 355, and now attending GQ's Men of the Year event, Sebastian is tired down to his bones. Yet, he he finds himself wanting to just be near Chris.

A Pal in the Hand is Worth Two in the Jacuzzi by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,7K | Explicit): Bucky asks for Steve's help getting off, being the good friend (that's also stupidly in love) he is, Steve obliges.

Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor by paperstorm (Canon | 2,6K | Teen): And Steve will be okay, because he doesn’t have any other option. It’s only a million tiny cuts all over his body, his heart, his soul, slowly bleeding him dry. How could be not be okay, when Bucky’s been through so much worse. (💙 Part 1 of Under the Dome)

Through the Monsoon by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Post-CW | 3,1K | Mature): Steve’s expression is blank, empty, except for his eyes. A hardened, cold, unfeeling look is in his eyes, as they stare unseeing into the space in front of him. Bucky knows how this goes. It isn’t a regular occurrence, it's only happened a few times in the last half-year, but it isn’t good. Steve is an expert at shaking things off – which is either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on who’s asked about it – so when he can’t, it means things went really wrong. (💙 Part 3 of Under the Dome)

A Lifetime is Never Enough by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Post-CW | 3K | Mature): Bucky reaches for him with his hand, eyes still closed, and Steve curls up against his side. Bucky’s arm goes around him, fingers sliding up to tangle in Steve’s hair. The sleep-warmed skin of his neck is a heavenly place for Steve to rest his forehead, tension going out of his limbs and greedily breathing in Bucky’s smell, his warmth, the safety his bed offers. (💙 Part 4 of Under the Dome)

Chasing The Light by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Endgame fix-it | 7K | Mature): “The thing about you and me?” Bucky says, "is that the world isn’t as stubborn as we are. You’re right, I can’t promise it won’t separate us again. But I can promise we’ll find each other again if it does. Because we always do.” (💙 Part 5 of Under the Dome)

like rum on a fire by mcwho (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): “You’re the one who wanted to see how far I could push you. You know how I like to follow orders, Buck,” Steve tells him, teasing drawl to his voice because Steve Rogers has never followed a goddamn order in his goddamn life up ‘til right about now.

Flaws by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,3K | Explicit): Steve catches Bucky scrutinizing his body, and while trying to reassure him, feels and smut ensue.

Recompense by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Endgame fix-it | 2K | Not rated): When Steve Rogers travels to Vormir to return the Soul Stone, he’s greeted with an unexpected choice that will change his life.

Warmth by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 5,3K | Mature): When Bucky Barnes receives the report that there is a guy lost on his mountain, he’s not prepared for the complications that ensue.

Wheels by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 2,3K | Not rated): Teacher Steve Rogers is ready to settle into a lounger and enjoy his neighbor Natasha’s pool when he finds himself staring at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen already lounging with intent.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Shrunkyclunks | 1,6K | Teen): Steve moves into an apartment with a Captain America impersonator, and Bucky is the building super, and gets them mixed up.

💙 it takes a lot to know a man by kittyandmulder, steebadore (Modern AU |39K | Explicit): Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook."What the fuck."

Double Trouble by HeroicPinups, kittyandmulder/ @kittyandmulder (PWP, Steve/Bucky/Steve | 2,7K | Explicit): Bucky finds himself stuck in a super soldier sandwich. How unfortunate.

💙 time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise (Post-CW | 23K | Mature): There’s no reason to be nervous. Steve’s just going to go see his best friend. This is Bucky, for God's sake, what could there possibly be to be nervous about? It's only been a little over a month since Bucky went under. He'd practically seen him yesterday.

Reading in progress

💙 Servitum by justanotherStonyfan/ @justanotherstonyfan (canon-divergent, Shrunkyclunks | 43K | Explicit): Steve's affection can be huge, almost palpable. His desire to take care of James can be overwhelming. But James can't think of a point so far where Steve's been overwhelming that he hasn't enjoyed immensely - and if they can roleplay some lifelong memories out of a spanking session, a shibari tutorial, and a carefully lit table, he's pretty sure providing Steve with the opportunity to do something he may not even be aware of wanting should go down a treat, and make for a pretty awesome afternoon. ( 💙Part 28 of the Honey Honey series)

WIP

💙 Cakes & Balances by mambo/ @whtaft (POTUS Steve | 16K | 8/? | Teen): It’s kind of hard to date the cute baker from down the street when you’re the President of the United States of America. But Steve Rogers will make it work.

oh the glory of it all by hitlikehammers (Post-Endgame | 4K | 1/23 | Mature): They end up stumbling almost unexpectedly into the white-picket-fence, apple-pie life they used to dream of. Except it’s not like that at all.

💙 An Escort's Guide to Navigating Tricky Work Relationships by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90)/ @hopelessartgeek, Mystrana/ @mystrana (Escort AU | 24K | 4/5 | Explicit): Steve is an outspoken leader of the fight for escort legalization. He wants to show the world that they have relationships just like everyone else, but hasn’t dated in the past five years because he’s been so busy with work. Bucky’s still not quite recovered from a bad relationship with a boyfriend who degraded his choice of work. And while he can define professional boundaries like it’s his job (it is), Bucky’s not great at handling his personal life. A story of navigating tricky work relationships.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 121K | 33/44 | Explicit): A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

💙 Political Animals by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades, Deisderium/ @deisderium (Modern AU, politics | 29K | 4/9 | Explicit): Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

Re-read

💙 straight from your heart by luninosity/ @luninosity (Stucky in Wakanda | 10K | Explicit): Steve doesn’t mean to have the orgasm. Not exactly. Not the first time, anyway.

💙 Tinder Is the Night by rohkeutta/ @rohkeutta (Modern AU, Tinder | 7K | Explicit): It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera. He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

💙 If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 28K | Teen): Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it. So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

💙 took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (Post-WS | 31K | Explicit): The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him.

💙 Sex, Drugs, & Needles by OhCaptainMyCaptain/ @ohcaptainmycaptain1918 (Modern AU, tattoo artist Bucky | 38K | Explicit): Bucky's a bit of a masochist in that sense – needles and the buzz of a tattoo gun have always turned him on... It’s even worse that this client is what they call a ‘needle virgin’. Doesn’t appear to have a piercing anywhere on him, and he’s already made it clear that he has no prior ink. Bucky’s always found something inherently sexy about being the first person to introduce another to that experience. He has absolutely no problem popping this guy's needle cherry.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

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seenashwrite · 6 years ago

Text

The Lore You Know (Part Five)

Status: Part 5 of 6 Word Count: 5.9K Category: Mini-Series, Mystery, On-The-Hunt, Humor, Behind-the-scenes Canon-Compliant Rating: 18+ [for language/sexual situations] Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam x Reader/Female O.C. #1; Dean x Female O.C. #2; Reader/Female O.C. #1 x ??? (ahem-surprise!-ahem) Warnings: Coarse language; mild-to-moderate allusions to sex/activities of a sexual nature Author’s Note(s): The draft of this was lost, and this was to be completed a way long time ago, and boy howdy I’m sorry the muse didn’t hit me again til recently, but I hope you enjoy and that it was worth waiting for, one last part to go; see more post-story Overall Summary: see Part One ; reminder: this takes place in early S11 Part Five Summary: The agent stumbles upon a discovery that seems too good to be true; Dean lands himself in real trouble; the waitress shows a different side; the agent finally reveals the truth behind her mission

* ~ * The Lore You Know: Master Post * ~ *

WEDNESDAY

I slept like the dead that night, thanks to the fact that Sam didn't sleep in my room. He'd said something about not wanting to wake me up, though he did just that at half past the crack of dawn, when he came in and grabbed up his laptop and his bag, barely even looked at me. Well, that's not exactly true - he did at my admittedly snide goodbye.

"Cheer up, Sammy. It's Wednesday."

The door was slammed shut without another word.

I was still turning over the news from Wildcat in my mind. The trio of terror had most definitely gone rogue, and their stunt of turning my request for a touch of mayhem into a horror movie meant they were dunzo. The Recovery Team - which in this case, meant recovery of pieces because this was elimination-level shit - was supposedly en route, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be any time soon. I called Wildcat as I finished getting ready for the day, told him I was pulling rank, and Recovery should let me know once they had the goons cornered, hold off on the wham-boom til I gave the word.

"He won't like it," Wildcat advised.

"But you can get around him, can’t you? For now? Isn't he bopping around some other world, hunting for his X-marks-the-spot?" I replied. "C'mon. You're the best at covert shenanigans."

"And you are a control freak," Wildcat stated, but I heard him clicking away, putting in the team's orders, relating I was running point.

I finished applying my lipstick, rubbed my lips together, then made that pop sound just to piss him off; I grinned when I heard him sigh. "Kitty, I got no choice. Sam's onto me hard core. Got a feeling I'll need the distraction if I don't want this assignment to bloat and belly up."

"This better work. If he gets word, I wouldn't want to be in your Louboutins, my dear."

Wildcat's comment was perfectly timed, as I was right at that moment slipping them on. "Just make sure Recovery knows to keep those shitbirds corralled, no sedating darts, let the mania fly - and to keep out of sight of the Winchesters."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sending them on the prowl, which they’ll do, because I’ll share how my fantastic partner in covert crime has alerted me to the location of the creeps-of-the-week. General vicinity. Give or take."

"So it's to be a snipe hunt."

I picked up my keys, walking to the door as I answered.

"Yup. I got work to do."

The boys took the bait, too pumped for the action to bother being pissed at me or question my saying I was going to follow a lead Wildcat had given me on the mara’s hidey-hole. I didn't have one, of course, and it didn’t matter since daylight hour evisceration wasn't her jam. What I was actually up to was boring as fuck, but a necessary bore - I was stuck in my car on an old-fashioned stake out, across the street from the waitress' house, waiting on her to emerge. I'd texted her under the guise of taking her to lunch, but got no answer, and there was no light on in the bedroom I knew to be hers; no doubt she was still asleep.

At least one roommate had returned to the roost, but I didn't get a glimpse of her until late afternoon, when she opened the front door, crossed her arms, and stared right into my eyes.

And when I looked into hers, I sat up straight, felt my eyebrow arch on its own. "Fuck me," I muttered.

As I walked across the street, she came out onto the small landing, closed the door behind her, re-crossed her arms. She was an absolute dish, tips to toes, tall and curvy, looked like she'd just hopped off a vintage Hollywood poster. It was a purposeful, polished presentation, one I appreciated, so much so I honestly didn't want to update the database with this newly encountered, mighty fine brand of mara.

To say I couldn't hardly get my head wrapped around this stroke of luck was the understatement of the goddamned century.

"You can call me Raquel," she said by way of introduction, didn't ask my name, and I didn't volunteer it.

"And our girl in there's working the Mansfield angle,” I replied. “Damn, now I kinda wanna meet the other roomies, who else we got? A Loren, a Monroe --- ooh, dare I hope --- a Lamarr?"

"You amuse me. You know why I look the way I look. Part and parcel of living alongside them. Which I enjoy more than hiding in the woods."

"Still. Didn't have to go bombshell to chum the waters. You got good taste." I gave her a lingering once-over, admiring more than just the perfectly fitted slacks and cashmere shell. "Beyond the Chanel, I mean."

"Likewise. Those shoes are in excellent condition for how old they are - though I could say the same for you."

"I'm real big on regular maintenance. Mind if we get down to business?"

"I've no business with you. I don't deal with your kind. I only want to know why you're camped outside of my home, yet doing nothing."

"Yeeeeah, but this may interest you - benefit you. I'd like to take a couple potential problems off your hands. And I'll throw in three super-powered square meals, team full of buffed after-dinner mints to sweeten the pot. All-male review."

"And what am I to do in return?"

I grinned. "Make a big fucking mess of main street tonight."

"I have plans tonight."

"That so? If you got another dirtbag lined up, well... you don't need my help, but I'd be up for a quick peep show. Never seen it go down in real time."

"I rarely go down."

My grin widened. "I wanna be like you when I grow up."

That earned me a wicked - but genuine - cackle, head thrown back and all. "Aren't you just a peach. I do take pleasure in a witty woman."

I tilted my head toward the house - and the waitress slumbering inside. "My experience with ol' Mansfield says you're in short supply. There's a not-so-good-head-on-her-shoulders joke somewhere in there, but I've been a little off my game."

"Your game seems quite on point from where I stand." She paused, returned the once-over. "So. Should I consider changing my plans for tonight, tell me: what's your pleasure? Traditional start? Or full gallop?"

"Hmmm. Mine? Given what you're working with ---" I took a step closer, ran a finger under the long string of pearls that landed right above her cleavage "--- may wanna come on the scene like Lady Godiva."

"That's how you'd have me come?"

Jesus. "Just considering, huh? I thought you didn't do business with my kind," I said, removing my hand, but letting it drift away slowly. That ultra-fine cashmere blend felt - dare I say it - heavenly.

"Are we still discussing business? Or I have I misread?"

I glanced at my watch. "We got a while til sundown." I looked back into those sharp, glinting eyes. "No business for hours. Not a man to deal with for miles."

Raquel brought a hand to my face, swiped a thumb across my lower lip then down, smearing the red lipstick to my chin, admiring her handiwork for a few breathless beats - breathless on my part, that is - before she met my gaze again, and responded.

"Give me a minute. I'll make sure the baby's fast asleep."

I couldn't say if it was when I was getting in some going-down, or if it was when Raquel was strapping up that the sleepy-time cocktail wore off and the waitress slipped out of the house, but the series of borderline belligerent texts from Dean sure pulled me out of a helluva afterglow.

The short version was that she'd gone to the restaurant for no good reason, then when her co-workers - the ones not on the slab - started talking about the manager's murder and the subsequent massacre, the brain cells that managed to rub together opted to regale the soon-to-be-stunned folks with so much detail about said deaths that one of them called the cops. Thankfully, brain cells three and four kicked in, and Dean was her phone call after she'd been officially arrested following enough of a quote-unquote confession to convince the powers-that-be she was definitely involved, whether the ditz routine - or the nutbar routine, depending - was for show or not. I managed to shoot a text to Raquel in the time that it took Dean to get back to the motel and pick us up, telling her that we were running behind schedule, but she didn't text back, and there wasn't much time to dwell on it, because, well, Sam.

I knew when Sam made with the flirting and the come-ons that it was an act, didn't even need to check the tap to know he and Dean had made a plan that morning while they were out chasing the fake lead, all to try and get one over on me, go after the mara on their own after the cakewalk of dispatching the trio - presumptive arrogant dicks - wanting to keep me busy, even if it meant Sam had to do the dirty work while Dean went off alone to finish up the recon.

Which was bad. Very bad. Extremely bad.

Sam had barely gotten his mouth around a nipple when my brain started screeching out a red alert, and I sat up so quickly, he rolled off the bed, bumping his head on the night stand.

"It was a set!" I shouted.

"The hell?!" he shouted back, rubbing the bump.

"Last night," I answered, quickly getting dressed. "Dean. Where was he?"

"What?" Sam asked with a frown, getting to his feet.

"Cut the bullshit, Sam, this is serious!" I exclaimed, whipping back around. "Stop with the fuck-her-incoherent plan for a second, all right?"

"What?" he repeated, but there wasn't much of a question in his tone.

"I know that you know I'm not all what I've put myself out there to be, and I also know that you know that I know this right here isn’t anything legit, so listen up: you're right. Dean's right. I'm a liar. But I'm not lying now."

"Sure you aren't."

"Dean's in real danger."

I don't know what the expression on my face looked like, but Sam immediately stiffened and gulped - he'd heard me loud and clear.

"Tell me," he said, hustling to get his clothes back on.

"You first - when Dean got laid last night, do you know who it was?"

Sam looked at me, puzzled. "The waitress was at the club ---"

"NO!" I yelled, threw one of his shoes at him, which he dodged. "Focus! In the car, dumbass! Who did he fuck in the car? Did he say a name? Did you see her, like was she the bartender at the restaurant, or was the medical examiner a chick, or ----"

"I don't underst ----"

Since he was officially being of no use to me, I bolted out of there, took a sharp left, started banging on the door of Dean’s room; the waitress finally opened it nigh on the twenty-thousandth pound, standing there cool as could be with that rat's nest of bleach piled atop her head, the near see-through joke of a blouse replaced by an old black tee of Dean's.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, sweetly, politely, even though there was a slight grunt underneath her words, seeing as how I'd shoved her ass to the side, plowing ahead to the bathroom where I rightly assumed the confirmation of my gut feeling was located.

"Oh fuck me," I said for the second - okay, more than that, but in this sense - time that day.

"I got almost all of my mascara off it," said the waitress, coming up behind me. "I didn't realize it was so nice."

She'd washed it out in the sink, that shirt-turned-snotrag that I’d found under the seat and handed to her earlier, and it was now hanging over the shower rod. It reeked of motel shampoo, and the mascara hadn't really come out, just gotten smudged around into grey stains that made the cream cardigan look like a jaundiced leopard. I reached up, pulled it down, closed my eyes briefly before I read the tag, even though I knew. I just fucking knew.

CHANEL

"It's, um, not yours, is it?" she asked.

I threw the cardigan into the tub as I turned to her with a look for asking such a dumbshit question, one I was now positive she knew the answer to, and not just because it was plain that I wouldn't touch Dean unless it was a proverbial gun-to-head situation.

She jumped slightly, the combo of the sharp splat of the clothing and the fierceness in my eyes rightly startling her. I took a small step forward. She took a big step back.

"Y-your... your eyes are... the, um... they look like how when... when sometimes my ex would take ----"

"Yeah, my pupils start to dial it up to eleven when I get scared or pissed, and I ain't been scared of anything in a long, long time, so guess where I'm at right now."

"Mad at me?"

I grabbed her by the neck, put her up against the wall, and she squirmed, clutched onto my wrist. I didn't choke her, nor did I lift her off the floor, but I had a damn good grip. She needed to get my message. Fast.

"Now I don't give three shits how you play it in front of Sam and Dean, or the rest of the human race for that matter, I really don't, but from here on you're dropping this dimbulb bunny shtick with me, because I get you're legitimately shit-for-brains and too stupid to breathe on most subjects, but not when it comes to people. You're pretty damn good at reading people, aren't you?"

Though she kept hold of my wrist, the halt in the squirming and the chagrined expression on her face was my answer.

"You navigate jobs like stripping and waitressing as pro as they come, and you handled those cops like a boss, and you summed up Dean in a hot second, knew exactly what fantasies to wrap him up in. How am I doing? Reading you?"

A barely-there shrug.

"Thought so. And you're crafty, I read all about how you got yourself out of the marriage to that asshole biker who liked to knock you around. Duke the Douche, your sister liked to call him, wasn’t that it?"

Widened eyes.

"Oh I did my homework on you, you think I wouldn't? So we're done with this sweet little ray of sunshine bullshit. I hate those small-dicked fuckers who hit women ---" I slid my grip up, pressed into her face hard with my fingertips "--- but I got a big dick, and I will break your jaw if the next words out of your mouth aren't in your real voice, and show some real brains, and have some real information, 'cause you don't start talking straight, you're not gonna talk at all, you got me, Malibu Barbie?"

She nodded best she was able, and I let her loose. As she sat on the bed, head dropped, posture slumped, she cleared her throat. And then she started picking at chipped polish on her thumb.

I huffed and crossed my arms. "We're on the clock here!”

Sam chose that moment to enter the room, opening his mouth to no doubt start yelling again, but the waitress beat him to it. Except it wasn't a yell that came out. What came out was a voice that was still light but less breathy, and a good quarter step down on the scales than what we'd heard so far.

"What do you wanna know?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up, looking from her, to me, then back again.

"When did Raquel get back in town?" I asked, getting right to it.

"I'm not sure when, exactly. I'd talked to her on the phone while I was at work the other night."

"We're gonna need to get some exactly. Was it when your manager was playing grab-ass?"

"Mmm-hmm. And I told her I was getting scared, being all alone. That the FBI was in town investigating those murders."

"And you told her about the murders? That they were your roommates’ boyfriends?"

"Uh-huh."

"And she made a beeline back, so you wouldn't be by yourself."

Another set of nods. "But she said she didn't want me to miss out on a good time, that I needed to get out of the house for some fun, get my mind off it, so she'd go with me to the club opening, hang around til I felt comfortable." The waitress paused and gasped. "She's okay, right? Did anything happen to Raquel? She was home when I left today..." A puzzled look briefly crossed her face. "I think she had company over, because I heard ----"

"Yeah, yeah, she's great, she's fine," I interrupted. I turned slightly to Sam, including him on the next level of my sleuthing. "I have the feeling that together, the two of you will fill in some big gaps. I want you ---" I pointed at the waitress "--- to tell everything Raquel said about last night, and you ---" my finger went in Sam's direction "--- to tell everything Dean said."

They both looked at me blankly.

"On your marks! Get set!" I prompted, and in my most threatening tone.

Sam went first. "Ah, well ---” He paused, glanced at the waitress. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, but Dean... he sometimes just ---”

The waitress cut him off. “It’s okay, Sam, I know he slept with somebody else. It’s not like we’re dating. Go ahead. Tell her whatever he said.”

And what Dean said was this: it seemed while Sam and I had been up to some legitimate dirty work the day prior, in the time between the morgue and the trio’s meltdown, Dean had decided to park himself at a bar and sulk over how the waitress was planning on having a ball without him. So after striking out with the hot co-ed bartender - god, just so unbelievably predictable - who'd reportedly called him "geezer", he took his bitter ass over to the club, despite the soiree being invitation-only. And he spotted someone more his age leaning against a light post to the side of the building, puffing on a pale pink Fantasia, someone who put that baby bartender to shame, someone who was an absolute dish, tips to toes, tall and curvy, looking like she'd just hopped off a vintage Hollywood poster.

And ol' Raquel knew him on sight, courtesy of the suck-face selfies the waitress had showed off of the two of them, bragging about what a tough guy he was, how charming, how he had all the right moves. Given the waitress' foul taste in men, and the way she was a damn dirtbag magnet in general, Raquel likely presumed Dean was one more in an ever-growing line. The waitress reported that Raquel hated the professor for stringing along roomie Monroe, and she loathed the long-time boyfriend of roomie Loren for stringing her along since junior high.

"Oh shit," I muttered, bringing a hand to my forehead. I'd inadvertently had two of the mara's prime targets taken out. At least she didn't know; if she had, she'd have likely tried to rail me in the not-so-fun way.

"Oh shit, what?" the waitress asked, and it broke me out of my thoughts.

"What came next? Did Raquel tell you she was leaving?" I asked as my reply.

"Mmm-hmm, because she’d met a guy. She said she’d stay if I was still nervous. But I told her it was okay, because my friends were..." the waitress began, but trailed off.

"They're dead, we know, gotta keep moving honeythighs," I said with a few snaps of my fingers, which caused Sam to glare at me as he sat on the bed next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. I sighed, opted to move her along without going full-tilt bitch. For now. “When did you know it was Dean - was it the sweater?”

Sam cut in, speaking to the waitress. "Time out - your roommate is the person who --- I don't ---" He looked to me. "She's the reason you think Dean's in trouble? I mean, you know this woman?"

"So do you.”

The waitress’ eyes grew wide as she stared at Sam. “You slept with Raquel, too?” Then, softly - “Wow.” Softer - “Ew.”

Sam frowned at her, then brought his eyes to mine with a look that said Spill it.

“You do. Well. You know her work," I said, hoping my return look conveyed my meaning, and boy howdy, did it.

Sam glanced down at himself, or rather, at his now-rumpled Fed gear. "Let me change," he told us, standing and rushing over to his bag.

"We'll be in the car," I replied, then gestured at our clearly clueless third wheel to gather up her stuff - and once we were settled, she started gathering some clues.

Leaning forward, resting folded arms on the back of the front seat, brow knit, she asked, "How did you know it was Raquel? I don't get how it has to do with Dean being in trouble. He's not in trouble with me. So you and Sam don't have to be upset on my account."

I fought the urge to pop her in her perpetually pouty lips, but instead just shifted to look at her. "I met the ol' girl earlier, noticed she was wearing the shell to that sweater set. Not many people dress like that around here. And it was crammed under the front seat, and he’d gotten his panties in a twist when Sam had put you in back last night. I put p-and-v together, like a good investigator does."

"But you investigate..."

The question trailed off and no babbles followed, so I took in the sight of myriad light bulbs firing up behind her eyes. "Go ahead.” I gave a quick point to the motel. “Apparently hair care's taking priority over certain death, we got a minute or two.”

“Is Raquel who you guys have been looking for? You think she did... that she's been murdering people when she was out of town? Because she wasn't? Wasn't out of town? She was in town? And she was ---"

"Yes. I'm saying Raquel came back in town and killed your manager."

"But she didn't kill the boyfriends or the people at ---"

"No."

"No?"

Shit. "Yes. They're, ah.... they fit her M.O. No to the club."

"’Cause she has an alibi,” the waitress said, glancing to her left, at the scene of Dean’s crime. Looking back up, she asked, “So Raquel’s, like, a for real serial killer?" A beat or two, a few of the bulbs ratcheting up the wattage."Oooh, orrrrrr...."

"Yeah. Or."

What felt like millennia of silence passed before the waitress spoke up again. "Can I ask you something? About something you said earlier?"

At that moment, Sam came out of the room, hair perfect, weapons bag thrown over a shoulder. I started the engine as I responded. "What?"

"You have a dick?"

I rolled my eyes. "Metaphor. Do I need to explain what a metaphor is?"

A sheepish look immediately hit her face. "Maybe?"

"Later."

WEDNESDAY, 5:38 p.m.

"You think she's going to kill Dean how she killed our other roommates' boyfriends, don't you?"

Sam and I looked up from our weapons assembly to stare at the waitress, surprised.

We'd broken into the diner on the modest main street, the one that had been our go-to lunch and late-night-dinner stop. They'd have normally been open and hopping, but the mayor had initiated a curfew; triple homicide plus mass murder'll light a fire under even the sleepiest of towns. It was a little extreme - everyone should be closed for business at 5:00, everyone should be locked in their houses at 8:00 - but it worked perfectly for me. I had no doubt my boss' attachés were in town, likely put their finger on the scale so that Recovery would have full run of the area.

"Do you think that's why she... why she did it?" the waitress added. "To see if he was a cheater? I told her we weren't serious."

"She's not your friend," Sam said, but gently.

"You think that's what it was, though, right?"

"Maybe she got the impression you like Dean more than you let on," Sam suggested, resulting in an instant down-turned look from the waitress as response, yet just as suddenly, she raised her head again, back to her bright, bubbly - and in this instance, clearly faked - persona.

"Hey, I bet you guys are hungry. Or, you will be after you're done... um, working. I'm gonna get going on some food, okay? Okay!"

She'd barely finished her sentence before turning and heading in the direction of the kitchen. I opened my mouth to call out and tell her not to bother, to just sit still for once. Sam put a hand on my arm.

"Let her feel useful," he advised.

I jerked my arm away, went back to looking over the arsenal we had laid out across the tables of three booths. Between the two of us, it was decently impressive. Impressive for most anything other than a mara of Raquel's caliber, anyway, that I made sure of - last thing I wanted was her incapacitated. Long as they worked her down to the level I could get her non-corporeal and pop her into that pandora gizmo (be still my heart, in-house coven and some FedEx-worthy transportation spell work), then I was gold.

"I don't know that our team will get here in time to nail the bitch, but this'll at least keep her busy, help you get Dean out of whatever bondage she's got him into," I commented. Lied. Whatever.

"So they are coming?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. Locked and loaded."

"Why do you think she'll go after Dean? Won't she have bigger issues to worry about, with them breathing down her neck?"

"What loyalty she thought Dean should have to Barbarella was beyond me, but suffice to say she took it for a test run, and he failed, and given that she couldn’t get her rocks off with the two long-time sources of her ire, it makes sense that the manager’s comeuppance was gore-a-palooza. Still. I met the broad, she's intense. No way that one asshole satisfied the craving. Especially since he wasn't actually involved with anyone at their Playboy mansion."

Sam nodded, began sticking various weapons on him, but when he started to put his jacket on, he noted me pulling out my case of toothpicks and froze. "Um, that's your prep work? You're not going to change clothes? Maybe bother with getting yourself locked and loaded?"

“Nope,” I replied, sticking the pick in my mouth and returning the case to my pocket. “I’m staying here with the waitress. Hold down the fort. Make sure she doesn’t add to the mess your brother’s gotten us in.”

He pulled his jacket on the rest of the way, straightened it with a sharp tug, and huffed as he ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked me dead in the eye, saying, "I could actually use your help, you know."

I shrugged. "She needs it more."

"Because you care so much about her," he shot back, the words coated in sarcasm.

"Has nothing to do with caring, it's just logical. You and Dean are a team, can practically read each others' minds. Like I told you before: it’s hunting 101. Limit liabilities in the field.”

“Thanks for the tutorial, it’s my first day.”

“I'd be a distraction. One of us could bite the dust."

"What, because I care so much about you?"

I snickered. "Oh honey, no. Because I care so much about me. It wouldn't matter if the sensible thing - you know, greater good and all that - meant you needed to handle some goon when another had Dean against the wall, you'd turn your back on what mattered just to rush to his side."

"Turn my back on... Right. Yeah. Since Dean doesn't matter."

"Are you leaving at any point in the next century? To scoop up whatever's left of Mr. What Matters?"

"You're a bitch," he muttered as he stormed by me, knocking into my shoulder on purpose.

"You’re a large-diameter dickhole," I muttered back; then, louder, as he walked out the door, I got in one final dig. "Have a stellar Wednesday! Fingers crossed it doesn’t turn out Tuesday!"

He shot me a bird without turning around.

I locked the door behind him, put the half-drawn blinds down all the way, and turned off all the lights except for the ones directly over the counter seating area, to make it look good for the waitress. She came out of the kitchen to find me taking off my suit jacket and hanging it on the hand-carved coat rack by the door. So, so quaint this joint - I hoped it'd catch on fire.

"We're closed!" she said, but when she saw it was me, a tiny frown hit her face. "Did I not hear the bell ding?"

"You did. Sam's off and running. It’s just us girls," I replied, walking over and plopping down on a stool. "So what's cooking?"

"Nothing yet, I'm just getting some burgers and a pie ready to go for when they come back."

"They may not come back."

"You think they'll leave without saying bye?"

I gave her a look. "What did I say about the playing dumb?"

She blinked a few times, then softly said, "Oh." After a pause, she added, "I guess it's a habit."

I took her in for a moment - minus the mascara still holding on from the night prior (fuck if I knew how, I'd have to ask her the brand), her face was clean of makeup, revealing a barely-there touch of freckles. Her hair was in a smooth ponytail, the clip-in extensions coming out when she took it down from the messy bun, and she looked fantastic. And I told her so.

She let out a near soap opera-level gasp. "Really? Seriously?"

"Lookit, if all that other shit makes you happy, I mean, you do you. But from where I sit, it doesn't seem to, and it seems like a real pain in the ass to deal with every day."

She snickered and nodded. "It's not cheap, either. But that’s what Dolly says. Takes a lot of money to look so cheap."

I grinned. "See, there? Smart cookie. You don't have to play dumb to be attractive. Trust me, the kind of men that attracts? The kind who don't even bother to remember your name? Not worth your time, anyway. I think you know that."

"Men like Dean?"

"Like Dean. He's a mess of trouble sewn into a sack of squirrel."

"You don't like him very much... I mean, the way you talk to him... talk about him..."

"I'm pushing him because he tends to get pulled off course by women, whether it’s chicks like you or his landfill of mommy issues, and I'll let you in on a secret: he's getting closer and closer to a real grade-A cunt back on the home front. He needs to get done with her so that he - and Sam - can really start getting down to business. Like I'm trying to get down to business. With you."

"I don't understand. I’m not playing dumb, I promise."

"I didn't come here for some creature, the mara wasn't my mission - neither were they, them being here was a surprise. A kinda nice one. See, my assignment was to get to you."

She eyed me warily. "What do you want with me? T-to... are y-you... gonna kill me?"

I laughed. "No, no, pumpkin - I try not to get my hands dirty nowadays. But I'll tell you another secret: I was behind the first two dirtbags taking dirt naps."

Her eyes got wide. "Are you really the creature? Not Raquel?"

"Oh she's the real deal. We knew about your roomies and their troubled love lives from profiling you, and her cover was way good. Don't get me started on our surveillance team."

"O-okay, I won't."

"That asshat manager of yours was an unplanned bonus, so was Raquel, but earmarking those other creeps as the ones to be taken out instead of some rando townsfolk was just me being... nice."

"You don't seem very nice."

I tapped her forehead with my finger. "See. Like I said. Smart. Ditch the dumb act for good. This looks prettier on you."

"But I don't get it - why'd you do that? Have them killed?"

"I wanted to scare you."

The waitress blanched. "It... it worked. But ---"

I reached out, took her hand. "I need you to go back home."

She stared at me, opened and closed her mouth a few times, then inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath which didn't do a thing to bring any color back to her cheeks.

"You need to patch up whatever went down between you and your sister. You know. The one who works at that low-rent wing joint called Cooter's, which should be getting sued any time now."

That got a response. "We haven't... it's been years."

"Your sis is roomies with a gal that my company's very interested in - but she's about to screw herself over with all the partying she's starting to do with said sister. She's gotta be as pure as a newborn babe... well, maybe not that clean, but at least on paper, she needs to be close if she's going to get her foot in the door with a politician who’s going to be a big damn deal. And you’re going to teach her how to be a class act."

"I don't know anything about ----"

"You will. Because I'm going to teach you."

The waitress pulled her hand away, took several slow steps back, shaking her head as she went.

I stood, began to walk around the counter. "Don't you think you've spent enough time on the run? Doesn't matter what name Dean calls you, 'cause it's not your real one."

Now her face flushed. "Well... I bet your name's not real either!"

"I bet you're right." I came to a stop right in front of her. “This gal is real, real important. And we don’t want your sister to play the part of mentor, we checked her out, and - no offense? - her idiot act is legit. There’s that, and the weed. She’s a space cadet, but you? You’re a diamond in the rough. Not to mention? You’ll be rewarded. Oh baby girl, will you ever.”

Another round of silence, some looking around at anything and everything that wasn’t me, and when she met my gaze again, I knew I had her when she asked, “So who is she?”

“Your new best friend is one Kelly Kline.”

The lights suddenly began flickering. Car alarms went off. I felt a small vibration up to my ankles as the ground briefly shook. Shouting floated our way from somewhere down the street. The Impala’s engine came and went. Then, in the not-so-far distance came the sound of galloping, and it got closer, and closer, and fast, the sharp clomps on the pavement indicating our favorite mare was not wasting any time.

“What is all that?” the waitress whispered.

I smiled, shot her a wink as I answered.

“It’s showtime.”

Feedback makes my ❤️ go boom

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Author’s Note #1: I am profusely sorry for the lateness of the completion of this story. The draft for the final parts was accidentally deleted, and then I had an out-of-the-blue thing, and then I lost my mojo on this story, blah-blah-biscuits, excuses and whatnots. Mea culpas all around, especially to the folks whose challenges this included. I won’t do this with challenges again, cross mah heart.

Author’s Note #2: My personal challenge was to see if I could seamlessly integrate more than a few prompts (okay, sooo… between y'all & some from my own challenge, it ended up around 20… what’re you staring at?) without the challengers feeling shorted & without you all noticing what they were. Why?

Even without the bolding of prompts that authors often include, sometimes they don’t feel like they “fit” with the writer’s typical style/cadence, at least for me. So see if you can guess them & be the judge of if I pulled it off.

The challengers are all being noted below, however the prompts won’t be revealed til the last installment. [There’s one that stretches throughout, and I didn’t want to ruin the ending!]

It is *not* my expectation the Challengers read this whole thing/beyond the part where their prompt(s) were (especially poor Melissa, whose prompt is the one that spans the entire shebang!), cross-my-heart!

Author’s Note #3: I’m also not gonna use the tags for all the challengers anymore because I’d given y’all the link to the master post way-back-when for inclusion in your challenge round-up posts/lists, hope that’s okay - besides, I’m finishing this up so late from when it started, I’m doubting you’re following your tags anymore. Did I mention I apologize? I’m *so* apologizing.

Author’s Note #4: All my stories (save the pure humor & goofy AU) are set in the same “universe”, and Top of the World readers may wanna pay attention to this one, in particular. ;) They’re getting an epilogue to this that contains some juicy behind-the-scenes tidbits in celebration of the completed first “season” and the premiere of season two later this summer, which is loooong overdue! (Wait, it’s August, is summer technically over? Okay, then, late summer/early fall. Eek.)

*~* The Challengers *~*

Featured in this part.....

a #Nash200

Featured in next (final!) part…..

@katymacsupernatural - #katys wish upon a star challenge [2/2]

@super-not-naturall - #Tristan’s 200 Follower Challenge

@hannahindie - #HanCelebratesWithPawnee

more #Nash200s

Previous parts….

@kas-not-cas - #Kas’ 2.5K dialogue challenge

@itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps - #GoldenGirls1.5k

@wideawakeandwriting - #randomwritingchallenge

@katymacsupernatural - #katys wish upon a star challenge [1/2]

@cas-is-my-hero - #cas-is-my-hero 100 challenge

@kathaswings - #Lina’s chiliad

@deansdirtyduchess [the artist FKA melissaj616] - #Melissa Celebrates!

@idreamofhazel - #hazels throwback challenge

…..and of course, #Nash200s

Also in past parts, the “JUST FOR KICKS” pair….

@theblackharrystyles [the artist FKA blackcaptainrogers, FFKA senselesssamii ] - #Samii gets scary

@impala-dreamer - #Dreamer’s OP4A Challenge

[This wasn’t their “real” entry, I just threw ‘em in because they honest-to-goodness happened to be close to things I’d wanted as dialogue anyhow!]

Tag List:

@impandagrl @waywardjoy @jalove-wecallhimdean @jame-sbarnes @just-another-busy-fangirl @amanda-teaches @fanforfanatic @salt-n-burn-em-all @thisgingerlikescoffee @cyrilconnelly @rozadolphin @carryonmycobaltangel @ilsawasanacrobat @klaineaholic @helvonasche @zepppie @amionthetumbler @tankcupcakes @littlegreenplasticsoldier @emlostinwonderland @michellethetvaddict @theoriginalvicki @ellen-reincarnated1967 @copperseraphim @mrswhozeewhatsis @crowleylovesyou @bumbleball13 @anticipate1003 @raspberrymama @lastactiontricia @butiaintgonnaloveem

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Nash Writes #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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