#wow what a terrible time to not have found a motel

[clockworkreapers]

I'm just making stuff up at this point, same day as the stop by the side of the road

So like... who is gonna go out there to get Gaston after he chased off one of those things in the grass? Nose goes?

[kwinsispn3]

Last Resort

anon asked: Hey! I love your work! Do you think you could do a sister!reader fic where Dean, Sam and Cas are away on a long hunt, and the reader (younger, maybe between 11-14) has a panic attack? Since her brothers nor Cas can help, Crowley shows up... Thank you!

Word Count: 1,762

A/N: I know panic attacks can be different for a lot of people, so I kind of just made the panic attack in this story how mine usually are. I also set this before the boys found the bunker since Crowley is still around.  *Also not my gif*

“Hey, wake up.... Y/N c’mon wake up.” Sam said as he shook your sleeping form. 

You rolled over to your side and blinked your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light shining in from the hallway.

“M’what?” You mumbled.

“Y/N, Cas called us. Dean and I have to leave to go help him, it’s important.”

“What’s going on?” You wondered, looking over at the clock on the nightstand to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. 

“We’ll call you and explain everything later, but we have to leave. We might be gone for a few days but I wanted to let you know.” Sam said frantically.

“Okay, call me in the morning.” You said, still half asleep and not really understanding what was going on. 

Sam nodded and shut the lights off as he and Dean gathered their things before leaving the motel room. You rolled to your other side and fell back asleep within minutes.

....................

You woke up the next morning and sat up in bed, looking around, you were confused as to why Sam and Dean weren't there. It took you a minute but you remembered Sam waking you up. Just as you were thinking about where the hell they went, your phone rang.

“Sam?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, where are you guys and when are you coming back?” 

“Sorry for leaving in such a rush. Cas called us about some other angels that are going around taking people out. Normally he’d be able to handle this himself but they're moving pretty fast.” Sam explained.

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure, but this one might take a few days. Maybe a week at worst, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“What about food?” You asked, glancing at the small motel kitchen. 

“Dean went on a supply run after you fell asleep last night, the fridge should be stocked. We wouldn’t leave you alone if we thought you couldn't handle it.” Sam said.

“Okay, well, hurry back.” 

“We will. Gotta go, we’ll talk to you later.” “Stay safe, Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say in the background.

....................

It had been 4 days since the boys left and you were bored out of your mind. You had opened snack after snack, watched way too much tv, and even snuck two of Dean’s beers. You knew he would notice and be pissed off but you didn't even care at the time. 

Just when you thought you would be fine by yourself, you weren't. 

The paranoia started to set in, which happened often when the boys would leave on longer hunts and not take you with them. Sometimes, you were able to brush it off and be patient until they got back. Other times like this, it was like a nagging feeling of terrible thoughts that would set off a panic attack.

There was a string of bad thoughts that kept rushing through your head. Wondering if Sam and Dean would be okay, if they were going to make it back safely, or if they were already dead and you just didn’t know it yet. 

These thoughts sent you pacing back and forth around the motel room. You chewed your lip as you imagined Sam and Dean walking through the door with their bags, trying your best to calm yourself down. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed as you felt your breathing picking up, feeling so panicked and uncomfortable, being alone for longer than you were okay with. You wanted to call Sam and Dean to check in but you didn’t want to be a bother. Your brothers knew that you had occasional panic attacks, but they didn’t know the extent of them. It was also a little embarrassing, so you decided to keep it on the low. 

That’s when your phone rang, seeing it was Sam, you answered almost right away.

“Sammy?” You breathed out.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?” Dean answered instead.

“Uh, hey.... nothing much.... Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep in the passenger seat. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, just um.... when will you be back?”

“We just finished up actually. We were able to track down the last string of dickhead angels so were on our way back right now.”

“How long?” You asked a little too eagerly. 

“Should be there in about 4 hours, could be less.... You know how I drive.” Dean let out a chuckle. 

“Ok great, hurry back.” Was all you could think of saying before hanging up the phone. 

....................

Sam stirred in his seat, waking up and turning to Dean to see his phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Y/N called, she was just asking where we were.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good... sounded a little weird though.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I dunno. She’s probably just getting impatient.”

Sam took a moment to think about how Dean worded that, realizing you might've been having an episode.

“No more stops tonight, let’s get back as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“She might be panicking a little bit, we’ve been gone for almost a week.”

“She’ll be fine, she just needs to get used to being on her own.” Dean started being insensitive. 

“Dean, I don’t think you know how panic attacks work.”

“She doesn't still have those, does she?”

“Yes, as far as I know she does, and depending on the person, they can get pretty bad.”

Dean didn't say anything after that and continued to drive faster. 

....................

You sat on the floor up against the motel bed and talked to yourself in your head, praying to Cas since your brothers were still a long ways away. You repeated the same message over and over, expecting to see Cas pop up in front of you, but it never happened.

You started to panic even more that you started to repeat your cry for help out loud, not to anyone directly, but in hopes of feeling like someone was listening. 

You weren’t expecting it but someone was listening. 

And that someone was Crowley.

Crowley appeared after minutes of you talking, it scared the shit out of you, making you spring up from where you were sitting. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Well, someone is a little uneasy from what I heard.” He glanced back at you.

“Why are you even listening to me?”

“You clearly wanted someone to, and I was in the area.” Crowley said jokingly.

“Sam and Dean aren’t gonna like it when they see that you’re here.” You said as you backed up out of habit.

“Sam and Dean aren’t going to be here for a while now are they love? I might as well give you some sort of company.” He smirked, as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.

“Why are you acting nice?”

“Who said I was acting? The king of hell can’t do little Winchester a favor?”

“Why would you want to though, it’s pretty unlike you.”

“Let’s say I owe you and your brothers one, I can’t always be ruining things can I? That would just be bad for my reputation.” Crowley sassed.

You scoffed at his sarcastic remarks, then realizing that he did a good job of distracting you from how you were feeling.

“Thanks” you gave a small smile, accepting the nice gesture Crowley gave. 

“No need... Well, I guess my work here is done.” Crowley sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.” Before you could turn around to hear what Crowley was talking about, he was gone. Moments later, you heard a familiar car engine pull up in front of the motel room. 

Perfect timing.

You drew the curtains to reveal your brothers emerging from the car, with Cas already walking up to the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you welcomed all three of them inside.

“Hello Y/N.....” Cas paused and looked around with suspicion growing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a sense that one from the opposite side was lingering in this vicinity.”

“Okay, I literally understood none of that.”

“There was a demon here at some point. I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, what’s he rambling about?” Dean asked as he hauled in the last of the things from the impala.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You lied.

Sam could see right through you face and knew something had happened. You didn’t look okay.

“Y/N, was there someone here? Did something try to hurt you?” Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s attention, stopping him from what he was doing.

“Well, Crowley...”

“Crowley!? Was he here?” Dean’s voice boomed.

“Dean, can you please not make a big deal...”

“Big deal!!?”

“Dean, dude seriously chill out. Just tell us what happened, Y/N.” Sam interrupted.

You told the three boys everything that happened. Sam immediately felt bad that he wasn’t there. Dean was worried that his little sister dealt with panic attacks this bad, but he still wasn’t happy that the king of hell just decided to pop in without warning. 

“Y/N/N, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, you were too far anyways.”

“Well next time that happens, you call us, no matter where we are. I promise, you mean more to us than our work, we’d drop everything, even if we were miles away just to get to you.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, what he said.” Dean chimed in.

“Wow, I love how much you care.” You joked.

“You know I love you Y/N/N..... but I’m gonna have to lay down some rules with Crowley, and one of them is no dropping in when I’m not here. I don’t trust that shady punk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his arms, motioning for a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Nothing but chick flick moments over here. Get a room.” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up!”

“So, where is Crowley now?” Cas asked innocently.

“Were you even listening the whole time?” Sam asked confused.

“No, there is many things being said over angel radio.” 

“God dammit, Cas.” Dean said as he got up to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Who drank my beers?”

“Wasn’t me...” Sam shrugged. 

You knew you were in big trouble, forgetting about the choices you made earlier. So you slipped out the front door to let Dean cool down, but he had other plans. Sam quietly ratted you out as he motioned to the door that had just shut.

“Y/N! Get back here!” 

Requests are open again!

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

[dw-writes]

The Invasion...Chapter Twelve

Summary: Mad Sweeney could not recall the last true believer he had. Sure, he’d been brought over as one of the Fair Folk, but it was different. A sliver of the truth, a dim shadow of what he was really owed. The belief of someone who followed traditions, not him.

That changed when he arrived in Cairo.

That changed when he laid eyes on you and he found that one didn’t have to believe in the myth to believe in the man.

A/N: Wow, it’s been a while! I’m so sorry that it’s been so long since I’ve posted!! But, this was a rather bitch of a chapter, so....yeah. Anyway!! I hope that you guys enjoy this!!! Let me know what you think!! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four  || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fourteen-ish || Chapter Fifteen || Chapter Sixteen || Chapter Seventeen || Chapter Eighteen || Chapter Nineteen || Chapter Twenty || Chapter Twenty-One || Chapter Twenty-Two Requests: Mad Sweeney and The Holidays || The Invasion and the Stressful Blows One Shots: The Invasion and That One Thankful Holiday || The Invasion and the Weight of Change || Eyes On You

The Invasion and Laura Fucking Moon

Mr. Ibis and Mr. Jacquel stared up at the small apartment complex. They had been called by the coroner, who had been called by the landlord, who had received multiple complaints of a terrible smell coming from the fourth floor. They found an old woman up there, deceased at least a week. It was troublesome in that she wasn’t dead by any natural means, yet the coroner stated she had been taken by a stroke. Mr. Jacquel knelt by the woman’s body. Her soul had long departed, taken by another god that she prayed to. He looked up at Mr. Ibis with a worried frown.

Bast meowed from the door. Mr. Ibis looked over, fixing his glasses as he stared at his companion. Behind her appeared a rather familiar face – familiar in the passage of time, familiar as the ages had swept around them all. Tis peered into the room with a scowl.

“There’s a problem downstairs,” was all she said before she vanished back down the hall. The men exchanged looks.

Bast trotted over to the body with a meow that stated that she will stand guard, and the two men left her in charge. They didn’t have to go far – just to the balcony. It overlooked the courtyard of the apartment complex. Three apartments over and on the ground floor; there were people loitering by the patio door. The collars of their long coats were flipped up around their ears, and in a group – such as they were – they looked more than suspicious. The three that Mr. Ibis and Mr. Jacquel could see turned to them and revealed faceless faces.

They frowned.

They knew the Children when they saw them.

And they knew whose apartment that used to be.

The Starbright Motel was a rundown thing. You wondered what kind of deals they had on rooms. The beds had to be more comfortable than the seats of a stolen car, and they offered more privacy, especially when it came to phone calls.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you said to your sister, who repeated it back to you. You told her you loved her, then hung up, and turned off your cell phone.

Sweeney was leaning back against the door with an amused grin, chewing on a Red Vine he had taken while you were on the phone, even though you had explicitly told him not to – as much as you could without full on yelling at him to not eat your candy. He arched an eyebrow when you turned to him. “You get all sappy when you talk to your sister, you know,” he pointed out, waving half of the Red Vine at you. You snatched it from his fingers. “Like she hung the fuckin’ moon.”

“I don’t remember the last time I actually saw her,” you stated while settling back into the seat. “You know, there’s a quote from a movie we used to watch together that I always think of when I think of her,” you said, chomping down the piece of the candy. You leaned your head back against the window. “Because she is my sister,” you quoted in the best British accent you could muster. It had Sweeney grinning, so you wondered how terrible it was. “And therefore, one half of me,” you finished. You smiled. “Shit movie, honestly, it’s…full of historical inaccuracies and nonsense but that quote really stuck with me.” You shrugged. “If I’m…” You leaned your head back and looked at the dim stars above the motel. “If I’m the stars and the moon, she’s the sun in the sky.”

Sweeney reached over and pulled another piece of licorice out of the pack. “You’re really close with her, aren’t ya?” he asked. He glanced out the window as he spoke, watching the rooms that faced the parking lot. Neither of you knew which room Shadow was in, which meant neither of you knew which room Laura would be in, if she was even there at all. You followed his gaze and trailed your eyes over the doors.

“Course I am,” you finally answered, “It’s just us.” You peeled the licorice apart. “Been just us for the last ten years,” you whispered.

You felt Sweeney’s eyes on your face, but he said nothing, at least not about what you said. He didn’t pry. Instead, he looked back out the windshield and propped his foot against the center console, folding himself into his seat. “Can I tell you a story?” he asked. When you looked up, he was twisting his ring around his pinky.

You shoved the string of licorice into your mouth. “Only if I can see your ring,” you said.

He pulled it off and held it out with a snort. You took it with a smile. It was much bigger than your fingers, and heavy, but the design on it looked familiar. You scrubbed it on your jeans to clean the dirt off. “I don’t remember much,” he said as he leaned back, shaking his hand, “It’s all scrambled up in there, you know?”

“I know,” you murmured.

He lifted his foot and gently kicked your knee. You grinned. “But I remember bits of my old man.” You looked up from your knee, your smile shrinking as you watched his face. His beard was a little longer, the stubble on his head coming in a little more, and the freckles on his face were a little darker. You’d believed that Sweeney had been a king before, yes, but in the faint light of the single parking lot lamp, in its washed-out golden glow, he looked positively regal.

Your heart skipped. He looked handsome.

His eyes dropped to the dashboard, then over to you, finding your silence to be expecting rather than admiring. “He was a bit of an asshole,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle of water from the backseat.

“Oh, so that’s where you get it from,” you said with a smile.

He snorted, shaking his head gently. Taking a drink of water, he leaned back. “I don’t remember much. Don’t remember his face, his name…” He frowned. “But I remember the water.” His frown smoothed out into a small smile, which made you smile. You looked out the windshield.

Shadow walked into a room. Sweeney sat up, almost knocking his elbow against the horn. He tossed the water bottle behind him, paused, then reached back to grab it again and drain it. You watched him the whole time, shaking your head. “So, what are we gonna do?” you asked as you twisted around in the seat to zip up your duffle. “I, for one, wouldn’t mind getting a room for the night.”

He shrugged. “Don’t see why not,” he grunted. “I’ll get my coin back, we’ll rest up, and then we’ll make our way to Wisconsin.”

You opened the door and grabbed your bag. “Sounds like a plan.” You leaned against the door frame of the back seat. “Are you just gonna stay here?” you asked.

He shrugged again and turned his head to look back at you. “Don’t wanna go bargin’ in there with Moon Shadow around.” You rolled your eyes and didn’t correct him. He waved a hand and turned around in the seat, grabbing another stick of licorice from the pack. “Get one on the ground floor,” he mumbled around the candy.

“Why?” you asked, shouldering your bag.

“Gonna spar with ya some more,” he said. He shrugged. “Never know when you’ll need it.”

You nodded slowly but rolled your eyes again. Shutting the door, you folded the half-eaten Red Vine packing and shoved it into your back pocket. As you walked, you looked down at your hands. You still held Sweeney’s ring between your fingers, and a dirt smudge covered your knee. You turned the thing over in your hand. It was a solid piece of silver, the same width all the way around, with curling designs carved into it. You slid it onto your middle finger. It was a little loose, but it fit. Smiling to yourself, you continued up the walkway to the office door and pulled it open.

You were a little disappointed when you didn’t see Mama-Ji – you’d bought her a small glass paperweight with a pink lotus in it (you’d found it in the clearance bin of a gas station) and had wanted to give it to her but found no one familiar in the office. Instead, you talked with the clerk, rented a room, and wandered back out, twirling the key to number 54 around your finger. You glanced into the window of 55 to see if you could see Shadow, but found the curtain drawn.

As you unlocked number 54, you heard the door on your other side open and the sounds of two men talking reached your ears. You just headed inside, making a note of the other room being occupied. A large hand suddenly slapped against the small of your back. You whipped around, hand clenched into a fist, and smashed your knuckles into his sternum.

At least Sweeney didn’t sprawl backwards. He did drop his head back, though, and snarled a mighty swear at the hit, stumbling back and pulling his hand away from you in the process. Your mouth dropped open, first in shock, and then with hesitant and nervous chuckles that built up into high pitched giggles. Sweeney’s hand slapped over your face and he shoved you back into the room with an annoyed, “Glad you found that funny.”

You tripped backwards and fell into the chair with a gasp. The bag fell next to you. Sweeney paused, hand on the door, holding it open. He watched you with narrowed, but worried, eyes as you looked up at him with a wide mouthed stare.

Then, you started laughing.

He rolled his eyes and shut the door. “You’re gettin’ better,” he pointed out with a grunt. He rubbed the spot on his chest. “Winded me a bit.”

“Maybe you’re becoming more human,” you said once you were done laughing.

He gaped at you a bit. “That’s not funny,” he said. You snorted, teetering on the edge of falling into another fit of laughter.

“It’s a little funny,” you wheezed. You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling with a soft sigh. “Sweeney?”

“Hm.” The curtain swayed, the metal clamps sliding over the curtain rod with a ring. You glanced up to see him peering out the window. He blindly grabbed the chair by the little table and pulled it towards him. When you didn’t reply, his eyes dragged over to you. It was easier to see the gold in his eyes in the yellow hotel light. You leaned your ear against your shoulder and found yourself smiling. “What?” he breathed with a smile playing on his lips. He sank his hulking frame into the chair.

“What did you do?” you softly asked. You shrugged and straightened up, carding your fingers through your hair to scratch your scalp. “Before all of this.” He arched an eyebrow for you to clarify and reached into his coat to pull out a cigarette. “Before Wednesday.”

The lighter flicked open, and he paused in lighting the cigarette, as though he had to think about his answer. When he did light the thing, he was scowling. He tossed the lighter on the table and it slid towards the edge. “Traveled,” he answered, though he wasn’t happy about it. “Met a girl.”

“Oh, did you see her boobies, too?” you asked.

He snorted and his frown was replaced with a bemused smile. “No,” he answered. He exhaled slowly, and the smoke formed a perfect ring. You stood and leaned over the table to break it. Then, you curled up in the other chair. “She brought me here.”

“The girl who couldn’t leave her stories behind?” you asked.

He nodded. “Essie,” he whispered. You leaned your chin in your hand and watched him. The red tip of his cigarette smoldered and glowed in his eyes, lighting a fire somewhere behind them that drew Sweeney away from you and your table. “Met her grandmother,” he rasped. His voice had changed; it’d grown deeper with a memory, his accent thicker, his words almost ancient; it was small, too, and fragile, as though it carried a heavy weight on the thinnest of eggshells. His fingers curled on the tabletop. You stretched out your free hand and brushed them. He clasped yours gently, his thumb brushing over the surface of his ring, and suddenly his eyes cleared, and he was looking down at that ring like it had shocked him.

“Where’d you go?” you quietly asked.

He put the cigarette out on the windowsill, making you frown and hum in annoyance, and smiled down at your hand. “Shores of Érie,” he whispered, and you thought you could smell the water and the grass just from the reverence in his voice. You inhaled slowly, deeply, and instead found the sharp tang of chemical cleaner and cloves coating your lungs.

You watched him twist the ring on your finger. He didn’t move to take it, just twisted it. You stretched your fingers down his palm. Your heart fluttered. “Can you tell me about it?” you asked.

Sweeney propped his elbow on the windowsill and continued to watch the quiet scene outside while his thumb and forefinger turned the ring. “She came through a fairy ring when she was a girl,” he murmured.

In your ear – or the back of your head – you heard the pages of a book turn. You glanced over your shoulder, searching for the sound, and found nothing but the old wallpaper of the hotel room, the chair, and your bag next to it.

“She reminded me of my girl in that dress a her’s,” he continued. His voice was fading, thick with memory as he spun the ring on your finger. “Danced with her and the fireflies and told her stories.” You smiled as you watched him. You thought you could see the flickering yellow bugs in his eyes.

“Hard to see you dancing,” you gently teased. The light lingered when he looked up at you with a grin that was far more playful than you had expected, given where you were and who you were waiting for. His fingers turned and clasped your hand and he pulled you from the chair with ease. You choked out a laugh and stumbled over your feet. He caught you, twirled you under his arm until you stood across from him, and he bowed – bowed! - at the waist, an arm behind his back and a wicked and downright joyous grin on his face. You mimicked him with a brilliant smile of your own and, suddenly, you found yourself believing that he had once been a leprechaun, one of the Fair Folk beneath the Hill, because this wasn’t Mad Sweeney you were seeing, but an older and far wilder man.

He straightened and tugged you to him and took off across the floor with a laugh. You followed with a bright giggle, finding it easy to shadow his quick two-step around the empty space of the room.

(The Starbright Motel was brimming with magic then, with a corpse finding her heart beating in one room, an old man speaking with his thoughts and his memory in another, and a leprechaun filling a room with a memory in a third. The magic sank into the worn and eaten wood of the motel and other patrons felt a spark in their chests, urging them to change things in their own lives, and felt a little lucky to be in that motel that night.)

You laughed as Sweeney spun you, the tune he hummed ringing in your ears like a full band played. He pulled you back to him, his hand low on your waist and a laugh on his lips.

For a moment, you were in the woods, surrounded by trees illuminated by a massive bonfire. Sweeney grinned, his hair brushing his shoulders in gentle waves while small plaits pulled pieces from his gold and emerald eyes. You smelled the wood and the ash and the petrichor from a distant storm and felt soft fabric drift around your legs as the fae before you launched you both into another dance. The music roared in your ears and you laughed and laughed.

Red and blue lights strobed across your vision and you turned to the window. Sweeney crossed the room, his song and his dance and his memory forgotten as he pulled the curtain back with a quiet, “Fuck.”

You opened the door to watch the cops lead Shadow and Mr. Wednesday to the back of their patrol car, wondering what they were being arrested for, then crossing your arms. What did this mean for you and your job? Your payment? What was gonna happen?

Mr. Wednesday looked up and met your eyes before he was helped into the back of the car, and he smiled. You frowned. “Weird,” you whispered. Sweeney appeared at your shoulder, though didn’t peer out at them. “They’re getting arrested,” you said.

“Do you see the Dead Wife?” he asked.

“No?” you answered, looking back at him.

He grabbed the door and slipped around you, silent for a man as large as he was, and was throwing open the door next door before you could stop him.

“Are you fucking serious?” you said to yourself.

The kind of bang that only a large body being thrown into a wall would make caused you to jump.

“Okay?” you swore, making sure to keep the door to your room open a crack before scrambling next door.

Sweeney was on the floor and a woman you could only assume was Laura Moon looked up when you entered the room. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked, standing from a crouched position.

“Uh,” is the only response you managed.

Sweeney thumped his head against the wall, snarling out a swear and said, “She’s got my coin.” He looked up at you, and you looked down at him, watching as he cradled his hand against his chest. “I can see it in her fuckin’ cunt throat!” he growled.

Laura started towards him. You threw your hands out and stepped over his sprawled-out legs, backing up as Laura stomped into your space. You lifted your hands more and shouted, “If you hit him again, he’s gonna break like a fuckin’ toothpick!”

“Maybe that’s the plan!” Laura shouted back. She smelled like body wash and rot.

“Maybe the plan is for you to give me my fuckin’ coin back!” Sweeney shouted. You kicked his thigh. “Fuck!”

Something in Laura’s flat eyes flickered, like she realized something. She looked down at Sweeney, then at you, and stepped back. You lowered your hands. “He can’t just take it, can he?” she asked.

“Will you give it back?”

The words rang like a deadly curse in your head and your heart dropped to your shoes. Sweeney didn’t say a word. Laura crouched beside him and poked a single finger against his temple. “I have to give it to you, don’t I?”

He snarled at her. She smiled when she stood, and paced across the room, scratching her neck. You turned around and knelt in front of him, taking his hand between yours. The knuckles, which were spread as though someone had split his hand in two, snapped back into place. He curled his fingers around yours, and you found his were shaking very faintly.

“I’ll give you another one,” he called over your shoulder.

Laura turned around. “What, no.” She crossed her arms. “Is the Jolly Ginger Giant your boyfriend or something?” she asked you as you stood, “That why you’re here?”

Sweeney snorted instead of letting you answer. “Give you a whole slew a coins for the one in yer rottin’ chest,” he mumbled. You felt his hat smack against the back of your legs as he fished it from his jacket.

“He do this a lot?” Laura asked.

Sweeney latched a hand onto your arm as he pulled himself up, one which you steadied with a roll of your eyes. “Which part?” you asked. Laura just waved a hand at the whole of him, earning a click of the tongue from the leprechaun in question. You puffed out an air of exasperation and shrugged. “Is there any way you can give him the coin?” you asked.

She shrugged her thin shoulders, mouth turned down in a frown. “Dunno. Don’t really care. I like my coin.” Her eyes left your face and locked onto Sweeney’s. “My coin,” she emphasized.

He sniffed as he pulled the hat over his head. “Don’t have to wait long for all that rotten meat to slough off yer bones, when I can just pluck the coin outta yer fuckin’ cunt chest,” he grumbled.

You looked up at him with a whispered, “Stop calling her a cunt.”

“’ll stop callin’ her a cunt when she stops being a fuckin’ cunt,” he griped. He looked up. “The cunt,” he said with a loud emphasis of spit, “Is just gonna melt all the faster if she keeps soakin’ her corpse in water.”

You scrubbed a hand over your face and stepped away from him, scratching your eyebrow with a stressed-out sigh.

Laura, on the other hand, rose to the bait. “Then that’s what you’ll have to wait for!” she shouted, “For you to take it from my decaying body, because I’m not giving you my FUCKING coin!”

You really should have known how Sweeney would respond. You should have. But it still, somehow, surprised you when he released an angry snarl and tackled the petite woman through the wood partition between the bed and the bathroom. You stared for a moment, watched as he slammed her into the bathtub with both hands and a growl of, “You’ll give me back my fuckin’ coin!” before you calmly opened the door and slipped back into your room next door. You patted your pockets, wondering if your phone was on you – you could really use a conversation with your sister right about now, especially since watching Sweeney punt the Living Dead Girl ™ into a bathtub had jarred you so much that you started to dissociate.

Instead, you found the package of Red Vines, and pulled them free just as the cops burst through the doors of the motel room next to you. You idly wondered how you had avoided them seeing you. Maybe they’d only started to pay attention when Sweeney started screaming. Or, maybe they were more concerned with the fact that it looked like the angry Irish man was in the middle of murdering someone.

You leaned on the door frame as they dragged him out, chewing lazily on the licorice in your fingers, wondering if Sweeney was going to do anything about the fact that he was getting arrested. From the way he struggled – and was rapidly losing – to the two officers that were trying to force his hulking frame into the cruiser, you doubted he could do much.

His head shot up from the hood of the police car. “Oy!” he shouted, “Hey – fuckin’ get off – tell them I’m innocent!” He jerked his arms around with a snarl. You thought that he might try to bite one of the cops – nope, not might, he certainly turned and snapped his teeth as they tried to pull him back. “Tell them she’s already dead!” he shouted. He pushed himself away from the car. The officers used this as leverage, hauling him around the open back door. “Tell them she’s already dead!” he snapped, voice cracking as he was all but thrown into the back.

The door shut.

One officer – who was sweating so bad from the ordeal that his collar stuck to his neck, glanced up at you. “You know this asshole?” he mumbled. He swiped the back of his hand over his forehead.

You swallowed the overly chewed piece of candy in your mouth and stared Sweeney dead in the eye through the front windshield. “Never seen him before in my life,” you deadpanned.

“Oh, for FUCKS sake!” you heard him shout. The car started to rock as he thrashed. “What did I do to you?!” he yelled as the officers climbed into car. You shrugged. The door next to you – door number 53 – opened to reveal the two men you had heard before. They moved to stand on either side of you. You tilted your head as you watched the police car leave, offering a Red Vine to either of the men that stood with you.

The taller one, the one with the beach waves pulled back in a short ponytail, took one. “So, was that your boyfriend?” he asked as he leaned his arm over your head. You saw Sweeney crane his neck to look back through the back window. He started swearing something, sitting up more in the seat, until the cops took the turn a little harder than necessary and sent him sprawling out of view.

“Ew, no,” you automatically said as you took a bite of candy. Your heart skipped a little. What a traitor. “Why does everyone think he’s my fucking boyfriend?” you mumbled.

“Was the other guy?” asked the second of the two. He was shorter, but with larger arms than his companion. The second man leaned on your other side.

“Which guy?” you asked. All three of you turned towards the room, where another cop was radioing back to dispatch about the dead body in the room. You frowned a little. This was going to be a problem.

“You know? The large guy? Shaved head?” asked the first man. He looked down at you. You looked up. His eyes suddenly widened, and he shoved the Red Vine half into his mouth, holding out his hand. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Apellon,” he said around the candy.

You stared at him while your chewing slowly came to a stop. You then wrinkled your nose and took his hand to shake it. “Don’t even bother to hide, do you?”

“Why should he?” asked the man on the other side of you. He braced his hands behind him and gently bounced himself against the wall, watching you and Apellon with mirth in his eyes. “There’s weirder names out there than Apellon.”

“Like what?” you challenged.

They looked at each other. “Ignius,” they answered together. You snorted and looked down at your shoes, tilting your head in an agreement.

The other man held out his hand, still bouncing ever so gently against the wall. “Izzy,” he introduced. You took it with a smile. “I used to be known as Icarus,” he added.

“You’re making a comeback,” you said after introducing yourself. You took another bite of your candy. “Give it five, ten years, and the songs of Apollo and Icarus are going to be told as the ultimate love stories.” Apellon laughed with a shy smile and Izzy just shook his head. “I think your story is probably my favorite.”

“Why’s that?” asked Izzy as the three of you turned your heads to see another officer head into the motel room, and then back out with a tragic shake of his head.

You offered both of them the last licorice, which they took and split into three parts, and after taking your offered piece, you threw the packaging away and peeked into the motel room again. “Because you knew what you wanted, despite what everyone said, and worked hard to get it,” you answered. You looked back at the officer to see him talking into his radio, then darted into the room with a quiet call of, “Be right back.”

The room was a mess, with splintered wood covering the floor. You gingerly stepped over a piece and investigated the bath, where the water was still, and Laura lay gently at the bottom. She reminded you of that painting, if someone were to take it and change it to a modern setting – the one of the girl, from the play, who waded into the river with rocks in her pockets after fucking the prince of some European country. You tilted your head as you leaned over the water and stared at her face, wondering what the name of the fucking play was.

Laura winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. “He got arrested, you know,” you said. Her lips tilted up in a smile. “God you are just as bad as him, holy shit,” you whispered.

“Hey!” You snapped up, feeling something pull in your neck at the sudden reaction. The cop from outside stood in the door, his hand on his belt, where his gun rested. “This is a crime scene!” he exclaimed. You looked back down at the water, at Laura, and a plan – some half-assed scheme that you could only partially blame on Sweeney’s influence on you – started to form in your head. You trembled your chin and stepped back. “You can’t be in here,” the cop continued, though now he was hesitant, and a little worried. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Oh, just--” You made to wipe at your eyes and turned to him. “Never thought I would see my sister again!” You hiccupped and stretched the cuffs of your sweatshirt so hard that the seams popped. “Let alone dead!” you wailed.

“Oh.” The cop squirmed. He held out a hand and gently patted your shoulder, then coaxed you outside, where he left you next to Izzy and Apellon with a gentle whisper of, “Can you...watch...?” Then, he took off for his car, fingers on the radio at his shoulder.

You turned your back to the cop and looked up at the two with dry eyes. “I’m just inconsolable,” you murmured. Apellon pursed his lips and scooped you into his arms, squeezing you and rocking you from side to side. Izzy patted your back and dropped his head on your shoulder, more to smother his rising snorts and giggles than you offer you any comfort.

“What’s with the dead girl?” Apellon quietly asked against your hair.

You threw one arm around Izzy and the other around Apellon’s waist with a soft, hiccupping hum. “He’s not looking anymore,” Izzy mumbled.

You shrugged. “She has something that my—”

“Boyfriend?” Apellon offered.

You kicked his shin. “Irish friend,” you finished with emphasis, “Wants back.” A pang of embarrassed horror warmed your skin, and you looked up at Apellon with a front. “Sorry, that was rude.”

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. You could see the sun behind his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. He lifted his arms from around you and squished your face between his hands. “What’s a shin kick between friends?”

You weren’t expecting that. Friends? You’d just met these guys! You thought about Syne, though, and her many texts, and about Ignius and his offer for any kind of assistance; of Mr. Nancy and his help despite his bitterness, and Bast with her constant visits; of Mei and of Lynn and of Hody and the shoes that warmed your toes despite the late Spring nip on the air.

His arms wound around your neck in a loose hug and he set his chin on your head. “Oh, shit,” he murmured, “Please don’t cry.”

“Why are you making people cry, sunshine?” mumbled Izzy. The two spoke above your head as you stared absently at the door next to you.

You had friends in these deities that you had met, not just Sweeney. Why had it taken you so long to realize?

A van trundled into the parking lot, and a man climbed out of the front seat with a metal clipboard. You watched him open the back doors, big black things that were marked with the word CORONER, pull out a gurney, and roll it across the parking lot into the room next to you. There was a moment of gentle cursing, of the guy struggling to get Laura’s body into a bag, and then onto the gurney, and then he wheeled it out and back towards the van.

It took you a moment too long to realize that you couldn’t let her go alone – especially without anyone knowing where she was going. “Shit,” you mumbled. You wiggled out of Apellon’s hold with a whisper of, “Hold on, I gotta catch that corpse.”

“I’m sorry did you just--” Apellon spoke at your back as you started towards the van. “Catch a corpse?” he repeated.

“Oh, this is gonna be hilarious,” Izzy muttered.

You jogged over to the coroner, watching as he examined the open zipper on the side of the bag. Laura was still very much dead inside, and you got the feeling she wasn’t gonna get any deader. He zipped it up. “Uh, excuse me,” you called as you approached. He looked up. His name tag said Tim. “Tim, the coroner,” you awkwardly said. You snapped your fingers together and clapped your hands. “Uh, can I ride with you?” you asked.

He folded the clipboard under his arm. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Uh.” You looked down at your feet. Fuck, what would Sweeney say in this situation? “That’s my sister?” you said as you looked back up. You wouldn’t believe you if you were Tim.

Tim crossed his arms. “Your sister?” he asked.

“Yup,” you said, nodding, “Mm-hm.”

“What’s her name?” he asked. He lifted the clipboard and clicked his pen.

Holy shit, you though, maybe you’d pull it off. “Jane,” you quickly answered as you shoved your hands into your back pockets.

Tim slowly lifted his eyes to you, arching an eyebrow. “Jane?” he asked.

“Yup,” you replied.

He wrote it down. “Last name?”

“Doe.”

This time Tim slapped his hands against his thighs, staring at you with blatant disbelief. “Jane Doe?” he asked.

“Yup,” you said while smacking your lips. You rocked back on your heels. “Jane Janis Joplin Doe,” you clarified while nodding your head. You thought you heard Laura groan. Tim didn’t hear it though. “Parents were really fond of J names,” you sighed.

Tim planted his hands on his hips. “Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you lied. You knew Apellon and Izzy were watching you, you just knew it, and you looked over when Tim looked back down at his clipboard to write something down to see Apellon filming you with his phone. You scrunched your face up, glaring at him, and turned right back around before Tim could see you.

“And your name?” he asked.

“Jack,” you quickly answered with a straight face. You rolled your lips together and added, “Jack Johannes Jingle Doe.”

Tim just stared at you. Poor Tim, you thought, he does not get paid enough to deal with your bullshit, or whatever bullshit Laura would have to pull to be able to escape the coroner’s van. “Jingle,” he slowly said.

“Our grandmother’s name,” you replied.

“And Johannes?” he asked.

“Our grandfather’s,” you answered with a smile.

He tapped his pen against his clipboard and straightened. Oh, you knew that look in his eye. That was a look that said he was going to roll with this and see how far you took it. You smiled wider. “Your parents' names,” he said simply enough, throwing in a shrug and a sympathetic smile, “Gotta inform the rest of the family so we can find out next of kin.”

“Oh, well, that would be John Josephat Jimothy Doe and Janet Jorothea Jameline Doe, sir,” you replied with a brilliant smile.

“How the fuck did that come out so smoothly?” you heard Izzy whisper.

Tim nodded slowly. The doubt was starting to fade a little in his eyes. Were you pulling his leg or were you serious? Those were some out-of-left-field names, so he couldn’t be sure. Still, he looked down at his clipboard and wrote ‘John J.J. Doe’ and ‘Janet J.J. Doe’, along with ‘Jack J.J. Doe’ and ‘Jane J.J. Doe’ in the name for the deceased. He clicked his pen. “You can ride in the back with her,” he murmured, then turned and walked to the front of the van.

You climbed up into it and pulled the doors shut.

The zipper inched open. “What the actual fuck was that?” Laura whispered.

You licked your bottom lip and sat down. “Grade A bullshit, mania, and wishful fuckin’ thinking,” you whispered back. She smiled.

“I like you,” she said.

“Feeling’s mutual,” you replied with a grin. She sat her head back. “I don’t know why he kept insisting you were a cunt.”

“Ginger Minge?” she asked. The van started to move. You nodded. She shrugged. “Don’t have the faintest idea.”

“Are you okay back there?” Tim shouted over the roar of the poorly kept engine. Laura’s eyes widened, and she hastily zipped the bag back up as he glanced over his shoulder. He pulled out onto the freeway and started to drive.

“Yeah!” you replied, clearing your throat. “Just uh,” you looked down at the bag. You could barely see Laura’s eyes peeking out from the hole she made in the bag. “Talking to Jane,” you finished.

“Oh.” He looked away awkwardly. “You can keep doing that then.”

You arched an eyebrow and looked down at Laura. She rolled her eyes. You smiled. You kept quietly chatting with her while the van drove down the freeway and into the city. She told you about herself, though she carefully avoided a few topics with a mindful glare. You shared in kind, and actively avoided the topic of just what Sweeney was to you. It made your heart pound uncomfortably and your palms sweat. You didn’t like it.

Eventually, the van rolled into a garage about twenty minutes later, where an attendant helped the coroner roll Laura’s gurney through some doors and into a hall. You followed, picking at the frays of your sweatshirt, tearing the fold in the cuffs until they split completely. The attendant told you to wait out in the hall, that he would take your information in a moment.

Tim hesitated out of arms reach on his way out. “I’m…sorry, Jack,” he said slowly.

It took you a minute to look up, and look upset, and then nod to him. He left before you could say anything to him. You puffed your cheeks out and sighed loudly, glad to be done with that load of nonsense.

Except, you weren’t. The attendant came out a few minutes later, asking you all sorts of questions and holding a clip board. You took it and skimmed the papers, answering as sloppily as you could with the pen, bouncing in place and bobbing your head to his answers. He eyed you as you handed it back to him.

“Can I see her?”

“They’re working on her right now,” he said with a frown. “Do you know why she’s already got autopsy scars?”

You rolled your eyes up to the ceiling. “Jane was a real punk rocker?” you tried. You really hoped your face didn’t give anything away. You knew autopsy scars were a legit thing in the world, but you didn’t know much beyond that! How were you supposed to explain this bullshit?

The guy nodded, though, and shrugged. “Shame.” Then, he turned around and started back towards the morgue. He turned on his heel. “I’ll come get you when you can see her.” Then, he added, “Cool shoes.”

“Thanks?”

He disappeared through a set of swinging doors. Seconds later, much to your surprise, there was an explosion, and a scream, and the sound of flesh smacking against metal. You scrambled through the swinging doors and found Laura, very naked, climbing out of the freezer cupboard. Across the room was the attendant, now squished by the door that once held Laura in a wall. You looked back at her and tilted your head. There was gold tracing through her veins.

“Can you help me find my clothes?” she asked, scratching her head. “I didn’t see where they put them.”

“Uh…” You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

~*~*~Thanks For Reading~*~*~ ~*~Tag List~*~

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[shirtlesssammy]

3x04: Sin City

Then:

Dean killed Azazel

Now:

A nun wanders an empty church, replacing hymnals. The priest finds her and offers to walk her to her car. They both find a parishioner in the balcony who gets their attention by announcing that “God’s not with us.” He then shoots himself in the head. Ooof. 

While Dean and Bobby work on the Colt, Sam informs them that he’s found sightings of demonic omens. Bobby stays behind to figure out how the Colt works while Dean and Sam take off for Ohio and the new case.

Interviewing the priest, the brothers learn that things changed in the town about two months prior --the same time they opened the devil’s gate. 

The brothers then head to their motel room, where Dean runs into an old hunter friend, Richie. They banter and then they all talk shop. Whatever’s happening, doesn’t make sense. (Sidenote: Dean’s pumped that the room has Magic Fingers. Yay, bby) Dean asks about anyone in town whose whole personality has changed. Richie answers, “There’s Trotter.” He’ll be at his bar in a couple hours. 

The town is anything but a boarded up factory town. It’s got coeds as far as the eye can see, and Dean’s ready to do some research. Trotter’s Bar is the epicenter of debauchery. They find the priest there. 

Sam wonders what the padre is doing there. He goes where the flock is. 

Dean then gets to flirt mildly with the bartender and fun fact: He likes Hurricanes. I feel like this is one part of Dean’s personality not explored in later seasons. Let the boy drink his fruity drinks, 202K! 

Before anyone can react, a man walks in and shoots another man dead. 

Dean tackles the assailant before he can off himself. Sam throws holy water on him, but he’s not possessed. The man admits that the victim slept with his wife. (Sam sees Dana Scully’s dad from across the bar. Man, things are REALLY WEIRD here.) (Natasha: Nooo he’s the general from Stargate!)

The cops later take the man away and tell Sam and Dean that the paper will be there shortly to take their pictures.

That’s the brothers’ cue to leave. Dean wonders where Richie is before they take off. 

Richie is with the bartender. She’s taken him to her parent’s country estate. It’s secluded and has toys. Just when things are getting interesting for poor Richie, the bartender reveals she’s really a demon, and she knows he’s a hunter. WHERPS. He tries attacking, but she snaps his neck in two seconds flat. Richie!

Later at the bar, Dean forgoes eating his burger to track down the missing Richie. Sam decides to follow Trotter. 

Bobby, meanwhile, is getting the Colt back into fighting shape. Ruby shows up and taunts him to test out the Colt. He does. The aim is true but the bullets aren’t right. She offers to help him with the gun. 

The brothers practice seriously dangerous cell phone usage (Seriously Sammy? You didn’t put it on silent? Seriously Dean? You’re driving while not hands free? UGH.) 

Dean’s back at the bar and a prostitute approaches him for a discounted good time. Dean doesn’t pay. (Or is that Sam? IDK, neither of them have to pay. Have you seen them!?) The bartender is back at work and saw the whole thing. It doesn’t deter her that Dean struck out with a prostitute and they head out for fun times elsewhere. 

Sam watches Dana Scully’s dad leave his office and heads in himself to investigate. Dana Scully’s Dad Trotter appears again and there’s a slight tussle before Sam realizes that he’s also not a demon. Sam awkwardly realizes his mistake and makes his exit. Sweet dumb boy. 

Dean, meanwhile, is heading down the same path as his dead buddy Richie. Dean’s no dummy though and sets up a devil’s trap. He pulls out his Latin book to exorcise her back to Hell. He doesn’t have it memorized yet and she starts up a demon wind machine. He loses the pages AND the basement door caves in. Worst Date Ever.

Later, Dean explores his new prison to the amusement of the demon trapped with him. She mocks him openly for not having an exorcism memorized. 

The demon taunts Dean expertly. Dean Bean’s offended at being labeled the dumb one and I am OFFENDED on his behalf! They wait to see whose rescue is going to arrive first - Dean’s or hers. 

Sam frets at the bar over his missing brother, and bribes the bartender for his whereabouts.

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon’s snarkfest marathon continues. She tells him that she didn’t even have to engage in mystical hijinks to send people in town into an evil tailspin. All she had to do was drop a few suggestions about the profit of vice to Trotter and humans took care of the rest. She describes humans as weak and corrupt. 

For Constantly Weak for Dean Winchester and SYMBOLISM Science:

Sam heads inside her (other) house and finds sulfur. The game is afoot!

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon enjoy a little philosophical exchange. “Do you believe in God, Dean?” she asks him while I chew my own arm off. She sets up the apocalyptic battle from the demon perspective. Humans have wrought carnage on their world, so it’s the demons’ turn to “do it right this time.” 

Sam’s back at the bar again, calling Bobby to report that he can’t find Dean. I guess the game is...not so afoot after all. The bartender offers him booze before downing a shot himself and, frustrated with the townsfolk, Sam zeroes in on the priest who’s still hanging out in the bar. 

Demon Casey tells Dean that she’s faithful to Lucifer, light-bringer and the one who will raise demons up. She’s a believer. Dean oh-so-casually asks what Hell is like and the BRAVADO masking the FEAR! Jensen Ackles, your face hurts me sometimes.

For HURTSSSSS MEEE Science:

She sees right through him. “It’s a pit of despair,” she tells him frankly. “Why do you think we want to come here?”

Sam, meanwhile, is involved in a terribly awkward discussion with the priest at the bar. He’s worried about his brother and thinks he might be…..in trouble. The priest offers to bring Sam to Casey. His eyes turn black as he turns away from Sam. 

The demon and Dean have settled into a friendly heart to heart at this point. She tells him that she actually likes him and thinks he did something good when he sold his soul to save Sam. 

Dean tries to laugh off her real talk. He thinks it’s freeing to be damned - he can live his life any way he wants now. He’s totally not scared at all. Not at all!!!

The demon riding the priest interrogates Sam, asking him about his aspirations for the future. Yeah! Why aren’t ya in college, Sam!

Dean and Demon Casey continue to bond, and the scene takes the tone of a couple kids just chilling in the basement talking about life. Which is...actually sort of accurate. 

Casey tells Dean that Yellow Eyes, a.k.a. Azazel, had a plan to bring the minions of Hell to Earth, but Dean killing him put a significant wrench in those plans. She tells him that Sam was supposed to lead the demon army. Uh. Wherps. Instead of Sam, there’s a power vacuum in Hell. Demons everywhere are fighting for the crown. “For the record,” she tells him, “I was ready to follow Sam.” And damn, if I don’t get the feeling that Dean likes her a little better because of that. 

Sam and his demon priest arrive. Dean issues a warning to Sam, but Sammy doesn’t have to worry because Bobby shows up with the Colt! Bobby hands off the gun to Sam, Ruby smirking in the background. The priest breaks into the basement and smashes through the devil’s trap holding Demon Casey in. They kiss while Dean looks on in surprise.

Surprise, Dean! They’ve been lovers for centuries! Casey begs the demon priest for Dean’s life and it gives just enough delay for Sam to shoot the priest with the Colt. The priest flashes out. Dean tries to stop Sam from killing Demon Casey but Sam shoots. She flashes out as well. Remember, kids, there’s no room for love on Supernatural unless it’s DOOMED LOVE. 

The next morning, Dean tries to figure out what they actually won from this hunt. There are two demons dead and one alive - and very bad - human. “Maybe these people wanna destroy themselves. Maybe it is a losing battle,” Dean opines to Bobby. He notes that Sam’s dispatch of both demons was “cold” and brings up Azazel’s words to him: When Sam came back, he might have come back different. They both agree (halfheartedly) that Sam is doing FINE and is definitely not at all concerning.

Sam and Ruby meet up in a hotel room. Sam’s suffering regrets and calls Ruby a “cold bitch.” She takes issue with this assessment, particularly since she’s saved his life a few times. I mean, knowing about Ruby aside, I fully agree here. Fun fact! The word “bitch” was used four times in this episode! Ruby continues to dangle the hope that she might be able to help save Dean from his deal. Sam levels the Colt at her.

Sam threatens to kill her, but it’s just empty words. Ruby warns him that the fight ahead won’t be easy, but she’ll be there by his side. A little “fallen angel” on his shoulder. (Shakes my head at this goddamn show.)

Where Everybody Knows Your Quotes:

Toys trump oils

A demon with a heart. Wow

You don't get it. All you got to do is nudge humans in the right direction

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[the-flowerwolf]

"I won't let him hurt you again" Part 3

Jake x fem!Mc

They were found the same day.

Before going to the mine, Mc installed a GPS tracker on her phone and a tracker on the other. So if she had left and not returned to the Motel that night, the second person would have gone to the police and given them her location. That person was Lilly. However, she had difficulty convincing the police to go in search of Mc. So when she finally did, she and a few police officers went to the mine. It also took time to make sure it was safe enough, so they didn't find the missing until late at night.

It was at the same time that the man without a face came to them with a new bag of food, so they caught him red-handed.

The kidnapper turned out to be Hanna's therapist. He tried to convince her of the falsity of old memories in which she saw someone killing poor Jennifer. But when it didn't work out, he prescribed her antidepressants, making Hannah believe that she was really just sick. He didn't want to kill her like the other two girls, because it contradicted his sick beliefs based on an old legend. But he also couldn't let her dig any further, so he kidnapped her when she got too close.

He was arrested.

Some time later, the Duskwood gang threw a party to celebrate the return of Hanna and Mc... And of course, Jake, too. They gathered at the Aurora bar, where Phil had given them the best seat. He was so kind that he even let Cleo and Thomas come along with the others.

"Drinks are on me," he said, winking at Mc.

They all sat down at a large round table, talking loudly and enjoying the fact that the worst was over.

Jake didn't really want to go there. On the one hand, it was an opportunity to make friends that he hadn't had for so long. But on the other... He just wanted to lock himself in his home, with the computer, and feel completely safe. But Mc insisted and even said that the others really wanted to meet him, so he went.

So they all sat together on that beautiful, warm evening and didn't think anything bad. This was after all the kidnapped were released from the hospital, so Hanna and Mc had already told them everything in great detail. And now all the attention was on Jake.

They asked him everything: where he came from and what he likes to do, how he found out that he, Hannah and Lilly are siblings, and so on. And he was willing to answer all the questions, even though he was embarrassed by the amount of attention. MC, who was sitting next to him, was holding Jake's hand. He didn't want to think about the dangers of this relationship, or the fact that the doctor's trial hadn't taken place yet, or that the FBI was looking for him. It was just a good evening and he intended to enjoy it.

Soon the questions to him stopped and the fervor of friends subsided. They had silently accepted Jake into their company and were now talking about other topics.

Soon Phil came over, holding a very beautiful drink.

"For m'lady," he smiled charmingly as he handed a glass to Mc. She looked at him with delight.

"Wow, Phil, it's so pretty. What's that?"

"New recipe. We haven't added it to the menu yet, so you'll be the first to try it."

Jake glared at him and then looked at Mc. Phil had joined them, moving Richy to sit on the other side of Mc, and now they and the rest of the gang were having a nice conversation. Phil was the most active. He spoke loudly and confidently and often people turned to him directly to say something about the topic.

Jessy wasn't much different from her brother. She laughed a lot, chatted incessantly, and people listened attentively, smiling and asking questions.

Hannah made them laugh most of the time. She inserted clever comments everywhere and seemed to be able to keep up a conversation about everything from art to politics.

Mc felt like a fish in water in this company. Of course, she chatted a lot with most of them, but it was as if she had been with the group from the beginning.

Jake often tried to catch the thread of the conversation, to push through it as one might push through a crowd, but in vain. He didn't know anything about the topics they were talking about, and he wasn't sure if anyone was interested in hearing about what he liked. The longer the evening went on, the more alien he felt. He felt like a black sheep and, thanks to his lack of confidence, ignored the moments that refuted it. Instead, he noticed those in which he said something, but for some reason was ignored. Or that the responses to his comments were radically different from those received by his sister. And with each such time, his confidence and cheerfulness evaporated more and more.

He looked at Richy and Lilly. The only other people who didn't talk much and listened a lot. But it didn't seem to bother them at all. Richy was often distracted from the conversation, thinking about something else, and Lilly turned all her attention to her sister, holding her hand and asking if she needed something from time to time. They weren't active participants in the conversation, but they didn't care. They felt comfortable knowing that they were as important a part of the company as anyone else.

Jake didn't feel that way. He wasn't sure they liked him, at least. It was always difficult for him to feel needed by someone. It seemed that the only person who, Jake was absolutely sure, needed him was his mother. But she died a few years ago and Jake was left alone. Until Mc came into his life. To be honest, it took him a very long time to realize that she liked him as a person. And this despite the fact that she often said it directly to him. But he still didn't feel good or interesting enough for her to like him. Especially when Jake saw her interact with the rest of the group. And especially with Jessy. Their communication was more lively and diverse than his and Mc's. Jake blamed himself for that. He often ran away from her as soon as they discussed all the important points about the case, not considering that Mc would be interested in communicating with him on other topics and not wanting to impose. He is used to being the one in the company who always stays behind if there is not enough space on the sidewalk.

But this time, Jake had the hope that he could fit in, find those who appreciate him for who he is. And that hope was fading by the minute.

This, of course, was no one's fault. The friends were so engrossed in conversation that they could hardly notice his condition. And they didn't involve him in the conversation, thinking that he was just one of those who is silent a lot.

And well, it is always very difficult to resist your inner fears.

Jake wanted to calm down a little. Without a word, he got up and left the "Aurora", wondering if anyone would notice his absence.

It was warm and fresh outside, but Jake was hot and stuffy. He wanted to go back to his computer, back to the reality where he felt worth something.

Jake decided to stand there for a few minutes and then go back to Lilly's place. She insisted for that she, Hannah, MC, and Jake live together for a while.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched. Jake turned quickly. Mс stood next to him, looking worried.

"Are you okay, Jake?" She asked. He turned away.

"I'm fine."

He didn't want to talk about his feelings. Jake knew they were pathetic.

"Talk to me, Jake."

He liked it when Mc called him by his first name. On the other hand, she didn't even know his last. The thought unsettled him even more.

"I'm fine. Just tired." He said, perhaps too sharply. Mc grunted and turned him around to face her, looking into his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Jake was silent. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Because it's stupid! Please, MC, just leave me. I just want to go home, stay with your friends."

"You wanted to say with our friends."

Jake still said nothing. Mc sensed how much he was straining, knew that he wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible, but she didn't let him. Now that they were face to face, he couldn't just run away from her. And she was going to find out what was bothering him.

"Jake. Please."

Jake was silent, and Mc thought he wouldn't answer her, but then she heard his soft voice say:

"I feel superfluous."

Mc frowned.

"Why?"

"I don't know? Because I'm a fool?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

"But if it's true? I just come up with problems from scratch, overthink, and then suffer. Isn't that foolish?!"

Jake clenched his fists and turned away again. He wanted to cry. He hated himself at times like this. He hated that he couldn't resist it. He knew that people they won't reach out to him if he doesn't reach out to them, but it was so difficult every time. He was afraid that they would just reject him.

Being alone is better than being rejected.

Jake felt her arms wrap around his torso and Mc pressed her body against his.

"Whatever you feel, it's not foolish. All your feelings and problems are important. And I care. Always remember that."

Jake started to shake, and tears came out of his eyes. Mc loosened her grip, but only enough to face him. She was still holding Jake to her with one hand while she wiped the tears from his cheeks with the other.

"I'm just a fool."

"No, you are not. You're human. We all have our weaknesses, that's normal. You don't have to shut yourself in. Let me help you."

Jake sniffed.

"Forgive me. I've ruined your evening."

Mc smiled.

"That's not true. You made it better with your presence."

Jake closed his eyes, tears continuing to flow down his chin.

"I feel so alone..."

Mc frowned slightly. She cupped Jake's face in both hands and brought it closer to hers.

"You're not alone. Not anymore." She said. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Jake finally unclenched his fists and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing Mc as hard as he could without hurting her. Mc closed her eyes.

They stood there for who knows how long, holding each other tightly, until at some moment Mc shifted her face a little and gently kissed Jake on the cheek, not far from his lips. He opened his eyes to meet her warm gaze and smiled slightly. Jake slowly lowered his mouth to hers. They kissed. It was a tender and full of love first kiss that they will definitely never forget.

It was one of those kisses where souls are entwined in bliss and hearts are opened to plow, making two lovers one.

And they would have stood there kissing each other for ages if they hadn't heard Richy's cheerful voice.

"There you are, lovebirds!"

Jake and Mc slowly pulled away from each other, but didn't stop hugging.

"Always on time, Richy," Mc said, but without a trace of anger. She looked at her friend and a sparkle shone in her eyes, "Tell the others we'll be right back."

"Whatever you say! Just don't stay here too long, Dan and I wanted to talk to you about something, Jake."

"To me?" Asked Jake, amazed, "About computers?"

"No, of course not!" Richy laughed, "We want to have a bachelor party and we need your opinion! Dan says it's better to go to the bar, but I told him that after that car accident, it's not the best idea..."

"We get it, Richy," Mc giggled. She and Jake were still clinging to each other.

"Oh yes! I'm sorry! Adios!" With a chuckle, he disappeared back into the bar.

Jake and Mc turned back to each other. He could feel peace spreading through his body. The tears stopped long ago.

"So," Mc grinned slyly, "Where were we?"

Jake smiled and kissed her again.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Dick and Jason are Robins at the same time

(titans ‘verse. au after 1.06)

(tagging @superohclair and @cautiousamber!)

-

1.

dick has to admit that it’s not the worst arrangement: jason continues to be robin in gotham, and dick travels across the country with his little family while running from a homicidal cult, wearing the costume every now and then when he has no choice but to fight. this way batman is covered, dick still has access to some advanced gear and weaponry now that he needs it, and internet sleuths are kept on their toes when robin shows up in different ends of the country on the same day.

so what if reading news coverage of batman and robin in gotham feels like being punched in the chest, or hearing jason’s stories about learning new things from bruce everyday makes dick want to scream into a pillow? he is fine with this.

he. is. fine--

(kory knows he’s fraying at the edges. she watches, and she says nothing.)

2.

the fight to help rachel and defeat trigon is long and hard, and involves painstakingly unravelling kory’s memories. they manage to find her spaceship, and it becomes their base for a good long while. they stay there long enough that dick loses some of the tension that’s had him on edge for... well. the better part of the last five years, to be honest.

dick begins training rachel and gar in earnest. kory is able to coax some memories of tamaranean cuisine and culture out, and dick is reminded more and more of the team that he lost everyday. despite his best efforts he’s invested now. he cooks and dances with kory (good thing he’s so flexible because the tamaranean version of a waltz is like a particularly sadistic game of twister), teaches rachel algebra and does yoga with gar. he even manages to forget about bruce for a bit.

jason shows up quite often when he figures out where they’re based, and after some initial tension, he becomes an unofficial member of their team (though at this stage dick is still reluctant to use that word). dick and jason patrol in the nearby city some nights, then go for ice cream later. dick’s even starting to see the strategic (and frankly comedic) potential of two robins on the same patrol. 

time and familiarity softens how dick perceives jason: less reckless asshole and more bright young kid full of curiosity and a need to prove himself. he continues to tend towards gratuitous violence, but dick learns his triggers and helps jason recognise them as well. he soaks up the info on alien cultures and battles on kory’s ship faster than dick himself could hope to, and there is a terrible sort of tenderness to how he talks to the people he saves while on patrol. terrible, dick thinks, because he doesn’t know if he comes across like that now at all: soft and empathetic instead of aloof and shaking, too caught up in his own neuroses.

here’s the thing, the crux of it, the faultline that’s always threatening to break dick apart: he’s so afraid that he’s taken robin, his legacy, the ideals and persona that he modelled as a tribute to his parents, and made it into something so dark and broken that only batman could pass it on. jason showing up as his replacement one day only seemed to affirm that fear. but now, swinging through the skies with this kid who’s taken robin as an opportunity to learn and grow and be better, dick’s reminded of the best of his early days in the costume. 

for the first time in what feels like forever, dick feels good about putting on the robin costume again.

3.

(are you asking if dick tried to call home? of course he did. he chickens out and cuts the call to bruce after only a few rings, and feels a sad sort of vindication in noticing how bruce never attempts to call him back.

alfred picks up his call on the second ring, and dick feels like the smallest person in the world when he hears the genuine warmth, joy and relief in alfred’s voice as he greets him. there’s no excuse for dick refusing to talk to the man that practically raised him after his parents died and he knows it. 

they talk for an hours while skirting around anything to do with bruce, which is an impressive feat all in itself. they finally talk about jason, and there’s a wistful sort of fondness in alfred’s voice as he says, “you’ve been a good influence on master jason.”

dick laughs. “he’s been a good influence on me.” it’s the first time he’s said it loud, but it feels true.

“you mustn’t underestimate the ways in which you change people, master dick,” alfred says. “you have been a light in our lives for so long.”

dick’s jaw clenches. all his memories of batman smudge together in never-ending shadow; when he thinks of bruce, he can only remember that remote expression on his face, that expression dick can project all his disgust and loathing and disappointment onto. maybe people should start considering how they influence me, dick wants to say. sometimes i can’t recognise who i’m seeing in the mirror every day and other times i hate him so much i want to--

“i miss you, alf,” he says instead, softly.

“my dear boy,” alfred starts, but he sounds choked. it’s ok. dick understands.)

4.

things get worse, quickly. their enemies find and destroy their spaceship base, and they’re not nearly ready to take on trigon yet. they’re on the run again, alternating between motel rooms and empty warehouses. 

the cult finally catches up to them; they are kidnapped and tortured for days in an abandoned asylum. they eventually escape, the building and the organisation in flames behind them, but the scars from the experience are deep: rachel is anxious and tearful almost all the time, gar’s usual cheer is replaced by a quiet, simmering self-loathing, kory refuses to talk about her experience but flinches at every touch, and dick... he feels like he’s been flayed, his mind and body laid raw and bleeding until nothing recognisable, nothing human is left. he can’t think, he can barely feel. half the time it feels like he’s observing what’s happening to him like it’s happening to somebody else entirely.

they’re a mess. he can’t do this, not when he feels like--like this. he resists calling anybody for help, but one night he breaks down and calls donna. he doesn’t remember what he says on the call, but wakes up the next morning, eyes raw, tear tracks on his face, and a text from donna that says: i’ll be there in a day. stay put, bw,

“wow you’re a mess,” jason says from a corner of the room. any other time, dick would be on his feet, demanding to know how jason found them. now though, he’s feeling out of his body again, and so he says, “i kind of am, aren’t i?” and watches the words float, parting the air above him.

jason sighs.

being with donna helps get his head on straight, even though at first her appearance threatened to bring back even more traumatic memories. she’s a soothing, sobering presence not just for him, but for the others as well. they continue to motel-hop as they prepare for their big final battle against trigon.

jason continues to find them, somehow. (dick wouldn’t put installing a tracker on one of them beyond him, but he’s much too tired to feel angry about that.) he chats with dick and sometimes they bond by watching a movie together or swinging from buildings in the chill, crisp night air, jason’s cackling laugh echoing in dick’s ears. 

jason always leaves as quickly as he appears, but dick is grateful for his presence.

5.

they defeat trigon, and there’s a party. even hank and dawn show up. jason is conspicuous in his absence.

after several unanswered texts and calls, dick bites the bullet and calls alfred. “hey alf,” he says when the man picks up, “is jason there?”

there’s a long pause at the other end of the line. then: “did master bruce not tell you?” his voice sounds uncharacteristically hoarse.

dick’s stomach starts to sink. he steps away from the others and into a quiet room. “tell me what?”

“master jason...” alfred sighs. “he--he was killed by the joker two months ago. the funeral was last week.”

dick stumbles back to sit on the bed. the phone threatens to fall from his numb fingers even while his heart thunders against his ribs. “that’s impossible,” he manages. “i saw him five days ago. we saw--” there’s a hysterical laugh building in his chest, howling like a thunderstorm, “fuck we saw moulin rogue together. he told me how much he fucking loves musicals, i--”

alfred’s voice is suddenly distant and tinny. dick looks down to see his phone on the floor. he’s suddenly very, very aware of the dryness of his palms, the hot flush at the tips of his ears, the tears that are starting to slide down his cheeks, the way his lungs are burning with shock and grief and rage--

“hey, dickie,” jason says, smiling at him. “glad you finally caught up.”

-

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )

[handonhaven]

I got to thinking things and now I have questions. I know none of these questions are at all important to the story at all. But this is just how my mind works at times lol.

So Landon and Cleo have been gone for about two weeks maybe. What I want to know is where did they get all these clothes from? I mean when Landon left he only brought a bookbag with him. That can only hold like what one, maybe two changes of clothes. And it didn't look like Cleo brought anything with her other than what she was wearing. Also where have they been staying? Or how have they been eating? It's not like they have any or very much money at all. And that can add up if you have to buy food everyday and renting a hotel/motel rooms. I know the obvious answer to this is magic or something like that. But at the same time I would like mention of it or something. Just like when Landon went into malivore at the end of 3x04 naked by the next time we saw him he's fully clothed.

Also after 3x15 how can people still say that Josie is a sweetheart? I'm sorry but I think she's far from it. I mean when she was 11 she read Lizzies diary claiming she wanted to understand what she was feeling as an excuse. But then went and showed it to other witches at the school. Causing Hope to overhear it and lose control of her magic and most likely caused the other witches to make fun of Lizzie behind her back. We already know about the fire she set to Hopes room. As well as everything else she's done since season 1. Who knows what else she might have done before the start of season 1. Look I'm glad the show is showing some more of the girls past trauma and acknowledging it. But when are they going acknowledge all the trauma Josie caused Hope and Lizzie? Because I'm getting a little tired of her always getting a free pass with that. I know that Josie does(or says) feels bad about it. But when will she make up for it or even I don't know say sorry for all the things she's done. I wish people would stop making excuses for her. Saying well she was just a kid. Or she was manipulated to do those things and under the control of black magic. She was 11 and 13 when she did those things in the past that's old enough to know better. Everything else she did that we know of she did when she was 16-17. That's definitely old enough to know better. And you can't blame it all on the black magic either. Because she wasn't under the control of black when she set Penelope on fire. Or when she made that girls nose bleed or when broke Ethan arms. I could go on but I think I made my point. I'm just tired of seeing her get a free pass all the time. It's just like when they give Lizzie a free pass all the time for all the terrible and horribly mean things she says to people. Because let's be honest at times she can be a real bully to people. I know she must have hurt people with the things she says.

I'm not bashing Lizzie and Josie or anything. I feel like they could really have the potential to be really great people when the grow up. But as of right now not so much. If I'm being honest Josie start it to go downhill in season 2 and Lizzie this season. I'm hoping next season will be better for the two.

That’s the kind of stuff I think about all the time haha. Have Landon and Cleo been gone for two weeks though? They’re never really clear on the time in this show, so I wasn’t sure. We know that 3x14 and 3x15 took place in one day and night, but who knows how much time was between 3x13 and 3x14, or between 3x15 and 3x16. But it seems they have been gone a good amount of time, so yeah, who knows where they got their clothes. Right? I don’t think Landon could’ve fit much in his backpack, and he left so suddenly too. Same with Cleo, it looked like she just had a backpack as well. Neither of them seemed very prepared to just go on the road for an indefinite amount of time. And also, Cleo had been in the artifact for how many hundreds of years? How is she even used to the modern world? She didn’t seem affected by anything at all when we first saw her, which would’ve been soon after she escaped. But she seemed pretty accustomed to everything, like surely she would never have been on a bus or know how all that works? Yet she was waiting at the bus stop, no big deal haha. And I’d guess they’ve been staying at motels? If that’s where they’re gonna be next episode, idk. But true, when it comes to eating, Cleo wouldn’t have money, but I think it’s possible that Landon might have some saved from when he worked at the grill, if anything? But still, that’s probably pretty limited. It’s all a bit ridiculous though, like Landon is nearly 20 years old, he might even be 20 already. Yet he doesn’t have a cell phone, a car, or anything. Neither does Hope. You’d think with all the money she must have from her family, that would provide all those things for both of them? So it’s strange. And maybe Cleo could be doing stuff with magic, though I’m not sure how, since it’s not like she can compel people. I feel like when it comes to details like these, the writers just don’t care. And I’m weird because I like knowing all the small details like that haha, but they’re so often ignored in so many shows, especially this one. And exactly! How on earth did Landon have clothes again after ending up in Malivore when he’d been naked? Malivore had made an ice cream shop for the Necromancer, did he make a clothing store too? It’s silly and makes no sense. And every time Landon would’ve died before, he should’ve come back naked because his clothes would’ve burned each time. Same thing with how in 3x10, when Hope was a werewolf and went back to her human form, she suddenly had clothes on. When in the past she’s been naked, and all throughout TVD and TO, Tyler, Hayley, etc. were all naked too. And Rayna Cruz as well, every time she was reborn. 😂 It’s like they don’t wanna bother with stuff like this anymore, because it’s inconvenient I guess?

And the whole thing with Josie is really frustrating. I agree with you. It’s annoying how they’ve written her this way, have revealed these things that she’s done, and it all continues to be excused. In the show, and with a lot of the fans. Yeah, once again we find out she hurt both Lizzie and Hope by doing something that was obviously wrong. Even if she really did only want to understand how Lizzie was feeling, what was her excuse for telling the other witches? As far as her starting the fire to Hope’s room, I can understand that more, when she panicked and it was an accident. But the way she handled it after is my main issue with that. She hurt both Lizzie and Hope again, and they both suffered for years because of it. And good point, who knows what else she may have done.

Yes, true, I’m glad they’re acknowledging their trauma as well, but exactly, they never acknowledge the fact that Josie caused so much of it, at least when it comes to their life at the school and being bullied and all that. I’m getting tired of her getting a free pass as well. It feels like the writers are so devoted to this perception of her they’ve created where she’s supposed to be so selfless and caring, that even when her actions contradict that, it’s ignored. She definitely needs to apologize or do something to make up for it. I mean, even in 1x12 when Hope and Lizzie found out what she did, she didn’t apologize I don’t think, she just seemed upset that they found out. And exactly, being younger doesn’t excuse what she did because she was old enough to know that what she did was wrong. So true, she was affected by black magic mostly at the end of season 2. She had been manipulated by Clarke in early season 2, which led to her breaking Ethan’s arm, but then afterward she said she had wanted to hurt him so... 😬 But yeah, I think besides what she did when she was dark Josie, she hasn’t really had to deal with the consequences of those other things she did.

And I totally agree with you about Lizzie as well. She’s definitely said horrible things to people, no one says anything about it. I guess because it’s “part of her personality” it’s okay? And also because a lot of what she says is written in a way that’s supposed to be comedic, so the fact that she is insulting people is dismissed because it’s “funny.” Idk, I know many people do think it’s funny, personally, I just don’t. Not my kind of humor, I guess. But yeah, very true, I think she has hurt people for sure. I think that was shown with the other students’ reactions at her “funeral.” Which I did not think was okay at all btw, that was messed up, but it did show that what she says has affected people. I mean, even with how she treats Landon, you can tell by his expressions that he does not like it. He just doesn’t say anything. So that’s an issue too that I doubt will ever be addressed since it’s so often used for humor, unfortunately.

But I get that. I know I’ve been negative about Lizzie and Josie and don’t mean to bash them either, I’ve just been bothered by a lot of what they’ve done. I also think they have potential too, and I think that’s why I get so disappointed by how they’ve acted at times. I loved them in TVD, so I was excited to see them older in this show. And it seemed like things were going in a fairly good direction with them in season 1, besides a couple things Josie had done that bothered me, but I still really liked both her and Lizzie. But yes, things did go downhill starting in season 2, for Josie in particular. And yep, Lizzie in this season too has definitely made my opinion of her change, sadly. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next with them. I do think it’s odd that it took 3 whole seasons just to get to the point they’re at now... but I do hope things will improve next season. I’m also curious to see if what they said to Hope last episode will be something they actually follow through on rather than just words, like has happened in the past. So I guess we’ll see! And wow, sorry that got long.

[pretend-writer]

I Wasn’t Over You (Dean Winchester x reader)

Summary: Y/N finds out the reason behind Dean’s anger after their breakup. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Title Reference: I Wasn’t Over You x 98 degrees

Word Count: 1953 words

Warning: angst & fluff

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

‘And that’s the winning shot.’ I smirked as I made my final 8 ball into the hole. 'Y/N wins at Pool once again.’

'I got to admit, you’re pretty darn good.’ Damon, a guy I just met at the bar chuckled. 'You didn’t even need his help either.’

Sam shook his head, 'I’m only here for moral support. Y/N doesn’t need me to fight her battles.’

Damon looked at me and smiled, 'Would you guys excuse me for a bit? I’m going to the bar to get more beer. Y/N, would you like anything?’

'No, I’m okay. Thank you though.’ I licked my lips, smiling innocently.

'You’re welcome. I’ll be right back.’ He said before he left the pool table to the counter.

Sam slouched to my height, starring at me stare at Damon as he walked away. 'Looks like someone found a jackpot.’

'What makes you think I want that boy?’

'Ah, thank you though. Hehe.’ Sam mocked me, dramatically flipping his hair.

Punching him on his arm, I rolled my eyes. 'I do not sound like that.’

'Whatever, dude.’ Sam chuckled. 'You were practically humping that boy with your eyes too. You don’t fool me.’

'Just won some money!’ Dean cheered as he approached me and Sam. 'Beat some drunk guys at darts.’

'That’s good, Dean. Y/N is about to win something too.’ Sam looked at me and nudged me on my stomach.

I could tell by the way my face felt warm that I was turning red from embarrassment. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept with anyone, four months to be exact.

Took me a while to come in terms with the relationship I had with Dean was over, it was hard for me to get back out there and enjoy some company.

Now that I’ve somewhat gained my confidence back, it was nice to have an opportunity to take this cute guy home tonight. I just wish Sam didn’t put me on blast like that, especially in front of my ex.

'Sam, we don’t know that yet. I don’t think he’s interested.’ I scratched my head.

'Are you kidding me? His friends left an hour ago and he’s been playing pool with you since. Needless to say he asked if you wanted a drink and not me, I’m standing right here.’

Dean crossed his arms, 'That doesn’t sound like he wants her.’

'You should’ve seen the way he looked at her.’ Sam chuckled. 'Oh, he wants Y/N.’

'Alright, alright. I’ll go talk to him.’ I blushed as I checked him out while he was ordering his drink. 'If I take too long, don’t wait for me.’

A strong pull prevented me to walk towards Damon, I turned around to see Dean pissed off. 'You’re going to embarrass yourself.’

'Wow, thank you for your support.’

'I’m just trying to help you, you know?’ Dean shook his head.

'Let her get a man, Dean. She needs to get some.’ Sam defended me.

Dean pulled me in, getting close to my ear. 'He’s out of your league.’

Immediately, I shoved him away from me. 'How dare you say that to me. I fucking hate you.’

Without looking back, I ran away from Sam and Dean. I was more angry than I was sad and weirdly, I didn’t cry at all. I guess I was really livid.

Storming out of the bar, I started walking back to the motel. The place we stayed wasn’t too far away, walking a few blocks didn’t hurt. Especially being this angry, I had to blow off some steam.

Ever since Dean and I have broken up, he’s been angry at me for some odd reason. There was nothing that I ever done to ever make him upset but even then, Dean wouldn’t open up to tell me.

Sam, being the peace maker tried to ask his brother was his deal was but being as stubborn as he was, there was still no answer. It would be nice to know what I did wrong or what was bothering him so much to where he had to push me away but things were getting out of hand.

As soon as I reached the hotel, I went into my duffel bag to grab the liquor I bought for the all of us to drink tonight. I didn’t imagine celebrating our successful hunt this way but I needed some alcohol in my system.

After what felt like hours, the door slammed opened as Dean and Sam walked into the motel room. ‘You guys have been gone for hours, where were you?’

‘It’s only been about 45 minutes since you left the bar, Y/N.’ Sam approached me and sat next to me on the bed. He took the Whiskey bottle off of my hand, ‘Where did you get this?’

‘That was the bottle I bought for us to drink but I finished it.’ I smiled at Sam. ‘Sorry I didn’t leave you any.’

Dean grunted, ‘Great. Now we have to take care of a drunk girl.’

Quickly, I got up and stormed in front of Dean. ‘I don’t need your help, I’ll never ask you for your help.’

‘Says the girl that practically almost killed herself at the hunt today. I saved your ass.’ Dean shouted.

‘Guys, guys. Y/N’s drunk and Dean’s pissed off, let’s just-’

Interrupting Sam, I shook my head. ‘No, Sam. I’m tired of Dean running his mouth and disrespecting me.’

‘I don’t need to hear anything from a girl that’s drunk out of her mind.’

‘You are going to hear it, Dean. You broke up with me for no reason and you’re the one that’s angry? How pathetic is that.’

Dean chuckled, ‘No reason? So you think you’re innocent in all of this?’

‘Don’t fucking do that to me.’ I clenched my fist, I didn’t think that I could be angrier than I was before. ‘I asked you constantly if there was anything I’ve done and you never told me.’

‘You don’t care so why should I even tell you?’ He shouted.

‘If I didn’t fucking care I wouldn’t stick around, you dick!’

‘You’re only around because you have nobody else!’

I bit my lip, holding in the tears that I’ve been holding on to since the day we’ve broken up.  ‘What happened to you Dean? You used to be so kind and caring.’

It was rare for me to cry, all of the years I’ve been on the road with Sam and Dean they’ve only seen me cry once. That was the day when my parents died while hunting down the Yellow Eyed Demon with the Winchesters.

The alcohol that I’ve downed from the Whiskey bottle however, was keeping me from holding the tears in. Being a emotional drunk was hard, I thought I’d drink to ease the pain but it only made it worse.

Dean’s facial expression changed as he saw me balling my eyes out. He slowly reached out to me, ‘I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your pare-’

‘No! Get away from me.’ I pushed him away and backing up. ‘What did I ever do to you?’

Sam lightly placed his hand on my back, rubbing it to try to calm me down. I can tell that the Winchester brothers were worried, it was all over their faces. After all I never cried, especially in front of them.

‘Yo-you never done anything to me. I’m just stupid.’

‘I know, you’re a jackass.’ I cried even more, I didn’t know how to stop the tears from falling. ‘Why are you treating me this way? I don’t deserve this.’

Dean sighed, ‘I’m angry at myself because I let you go. I’ve always loved you and I still do.’

‘Why did you break up with me in the first place then?’

‘I-I thought…’ Dean paused, looking on the floor as he hesitated to speak. For a while I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. ‘I thought you and Sam had a thing behind my back.’

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

‘You know I wouldn’t do that to you, Dean.’ Sam spoke softly.

‘Yes, I know but you two are so close and-’

‘All this time you’ve made me believe that I’ve done something terrible to you and I thought you were just scared to tell me.’

Dean took a step towards me, ‘I know and I’m truly sorry Y/N. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way all these months and I wasn’t man enough to tell you how I felt.’

I starred at him, trying to wrap my head around everything that was happening right now. All the pain that he put me through couldn’t be forgiven when truth be told, he wouldn’t even have told me if I haven’t confronted him.

Sam looked at me with his puppy dog eyes, I can tell that he felt very sorry for me. He was always someone I was able to reach out to and I was the same for him. Even with all the great things he has done for me, I couldn’t stay here anymore.

Grabbing the duffel bag from next to my bed, I started packing everything that I could find in the room that was mine.

‘Woah, woah. Y/N, let’s think about this for a second okay?’ Sam said, ‘We can talk about it in the morning and sort everything out.’

‘No, I’m leaving. I can’t stay here with him.’ I looked up to glare at Dean as I picked up my clothes off the floor.

Dean rushed over to me, grabbing my bag. ‘You know you don’t want to leave. Just stop packing.’

‘Oh but I am leaving, for good. I don’t want to see your face ever again.’

‘That’s just the liquor talking.’ Dean pulled on my bag. ‘Just stop.’

With all the rage I had left in me, I tugged my bag. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry okay? I’m so sorry.’ Dean opened his arms to reach out for me.

‘No, no.’ I repeated as I shoved him away, fighting him off of me. ‘You hurt me, Dean.’

‘I never wanted to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want to do.’ Dean continued to hug me tightly as I tried to get out of his grip. ‘You’re not going nowhere, Y/N and I’m not letting you go.’

Trying to pound on his chest, I used all of the strength in me to leave his embrace. The more I pressed against him, the tighter he gripped and it was harder to leave him.

‘I love you, Y/N.’ Dean whispered in my ears, it has been a long time since I’ve heard his soft voice.

‘It’s not fair.’ I finally gave up as I cried in his chest. ‘You can’t just leave me and then come back in your terms. That’s not fair.’

Dean kissed me on my forehead, ‘I know, I’ll be better.’

‘Promise me that you’ll be honest with me. You have to tell me what’s going on, okay?’

‘I will, I promise. I want you to be mine, forever. I can’t stand to see you with someone else.’ Dean buried his face in the crook of my neck, gently sobbing as he left small kisses. ‘I love you.’

Tiptoeing, I reached for his cheek to leave him a kiss. ‘I love you too. Even after all of this mess, I still love you.’

‘I know, I’m pretty hard to resist.’ Dean joked.

Giggling, I playfully tapped him on his shoulder. ‘Sure you are.’

Sam lightly smiled as he approached the two of us. ‘Back to being the third wheel again.’

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 4)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the Masterlist!

Warnings: a good amount of feels and angst. . but there is fluff!

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do? (Based on the song Hymn by Joel Porter) 

A/n: *Throws chapter at you and runs away* Have fun! (gif created by the lovely ellen-reincarnated1967)

“What do you think your doing?” Your voice slightly raising as you stepped back into the motel room, shutting the door softly behind you with a loud click.

“Definitely . . . Not jumping on the bed?” Dean tried, both him and Sam staring down at you from their perch on the nearest bed.

“Wow. I’m convinced.”

“It was Deans idea!” Sam quickly pointed, his little hand lightly smacking against Deans face as he did.

“I leave for three minutes and you guys go crazy? Now I know I can never leave you guys again, which is disappointing-“ you sighed. “Seeing as I was gonna give you guys this extra bag of funyuns.” You slowly pulled the bag out of your hoodie pocket, instantly making Dean freeze.

“Okay, wait we’re sorry.”

“Oh are you? I said no funny business while I was gone.”

“Yes! I’m sorry! Can we have them?” Dean was practically vibrating at this point, teetering on the edge of the mattress.

Narrowing your eyes, you let a silence fall between you before giving in and toss the bag onto the other bed. “Fine, go to town. No crumbs on the bed.” It didn't even take a second before the middle child was vaulting over the space between the beds and ripping the bag open.

Sam grimaced, not making a move from his spot at all. “Funyuns are gross.”

“Yeah, well that’s why I got you this-“ being a subtle as you could, you passed Sam the candy bar you had grabbed from the vending machine with a quick wink, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Dean.”

“I won’t.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He linked his small finger with yours. “I pinkie promise.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“Sam? . . . Sam!”

Suddenly snapping back into reality, Sam whipped his head around took at his brother. “What?”

“I’ve been talkin to you for the past five minutes, have you even heard a word that I’ve said?”

“. . .yes?”

“Wow, you are a terrible liar. What the hell were you even thinking about?”

Pressing his lips together the younger Winchester contemplated whether or not to say anything. You were always a risky topic . . . Especially to Dean, and seeing as his brother had been in a decent mood most of the drive he really didn’t want to take that away.

“Dude, seriously. Tell me what’s going on in that weird head of yours.” Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, Deans eyes bounced back between the road and Sam.

“Y/N. . . What else do you think I would be thinking about right now?”

Dean sucked in a breath before he nodded his head in understanding. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. She’s gone. What’s it matter?”

He expected Dean to snap, lash out- like he did when they were younger and the wound still fresh, but instead he was silent. . . Only because he was trying to remember everything he could about his sister, both good and bad. He needed something to keep him grounded. For instance, You had been good at making people laugh, you’d take things in directions people wouldn’t expect- lewder, darker, more absurd— then ambush them into responding. Some of Deans humor stemmed from your own, he liked to think it was his way of keeping you close. Along with a love for old western movies and a passion for classic rock.

Happy thoughts. Just keep thinking happy thoughts, Dean. Just because Sam brought up Y/N does not mean you need to get bitter.

Turning his attention towards the radio, the hunter played with the volume until it was a soft hum that could easily be spoken over.

“You remember when Y/N used to play music in the mornings while Dad was gone on hunts?”

Sam let out a soft chuckle as confirmation. “You mean with that dinky old radio she got at a yard sale for like three bucks?”

“Yes! That’s the one!” Dean snapped his fingers, a grin tugging on his lips. “And it wasn’t even the good music we usually listened to in the car. . . It’s was like shitty upbeat soul and R&B.”

“You know she would probably smack you on top of the head if she heard you say that, right?”

“Yeah, probably-“ Dean chuckled, flicking on the turn signal as he turned onto a narrow two lane street. “Anyways you know how’d she dance around to it too? For like the soul purpose of embarrassing is even though there was no one else around?”

“Yeah, and she couldn’t dance worth a shit.” Sam added, smiling as he slowly began to remember.You were always doing stuff to get them to smile or laugh because you knew that in a lifestyle as dark as your families, you needed to keep something lit.

The rest of the drive felt lighter. . . Easier after that small conversation. Even after decades of absence you somehow still managed to put smiles on their faces.Still working hard even in death.

And then Dean pulled into the cemetery and that light and happy feeling he had had moments ago flickered and faded like a dying candle and he could feel his insides slowly beginning to twist as his face dropped. He turned off the engine and barely got two steps from the car before the feeling was too much and it felt like he was being crushed.

“Dean?”

“You know what? On second though this was a terrible idea. Why did we do this? We shouldn’t have done this. Why the fuck did I suggest this?” He quickly rambled, backing towards the car and reaching for the keys again. “Let’s- lets just go home and forget I ever suggested visiting this place-“

The older Winchester didn’t get very far before his brother was letting out a sigh and pushing him forward again. “We drove all this way. You’re not backing out now.”

“Sam-“

“Dude, we both agreed we would do this. Let’s start with just a minute and go from there.”

There was silence for a moment before Dean huffed and stopped resisting his brothers pushing. He felt like a kid again coming back here. Hell the last time he had been here he still was one. Even though they never found a body, their dad was decent enough to pay for a headstone, a place to come back to.

And then they never did.

The cemetery was cool, dew still on the grass as the morning sun began to peak through the trees and light haze. The place was empty except for them. . . Because who visits a cemetery at 6:30 in the morning? Dean sucked in another breath of fresh air, jamming his hands into his pockets despite it growing warmer out as the sun began to rise.

“You know, we probably should have brought mom with us. It’s kinda a dick move on our part to do this and not tell her.” Dean grumbled, eyes already glued on the headstone ahead.

“She’s still on that hunt with Jody. I didn’t really want to bother her.”

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right.” Dean snarked. “Would hate to remind good ol’ mom that her first born has a headstone right next to hers.”

“Why are you being such a dick? You suggested we visit.”

“It’s nothing, Sam. Just drop it.”

Gripping his brothers shoulder suddenly, Sam halted Dean in his tracks. “Nice try. Tell me what’s going on. You were fine ten minutes ago.”

Dean gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before letting another sigh sleep through his lips. “Do you remember that case we worked a few weeks ago with the psycho spirit that caught us?”

“You mean reverend Johnson? Yeah, why?”

“I keep thinking about what he said-“

“Dean, he was a vengeful spirit. He was crazy.” Sam shook his head, dropping his hand from his shoulder. But Dean squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to forget. The words from the reverend still banging around inside his skull. Bad guys really needed to stop it with their monologues.

“What I’ve seen is that the lord provides for those who need it. If you don’t have something, that generally means you don’t need it, or you don’t deserve it.”

At first it had made perfect sense and Dean had just gone with it. He didn’t have his sister because he didn’t deserve to have one.

But then again, by that logic, they didn’t deserve a home when they were younger, and they didn’t deserve to love their sister and be safe. Y/N didn’t deserve her life.

“You’re right.” Dean nodded, in hopes of getting Sam to back off. “You’re right. Dude was crazy. Just hard to get those fuckin words out of my head.” He mumbled, the two of them somehow turning in unison to look at your headstone a few yards away.

It was like the granite slab was staring them both down. The two brothers both afraid to get closer. . . Because to Dean it was like having to face the truth all over again. You were gone. Here reality was set in stone (Pun intended). But then his legs were moving before his brain was and he was kneeling down the wipe the dirt and dust away from your name, calloused fingers smoothing over the engraved letters.

“Why’d you have to go be a hero, huh?” He whispered under his breath, feeling the sudden and familiar sting of on oncoming tears.

He could remember it all so clearly still, how you had thrust your rifle into his hands and quickly tugged on your oversized canvas jacket. How the wind had whipped at your partially pulled up hair when you swung the door to the motel room open. How you told them you’d be back and then never were. Dean wondered if you would still be the same now. Back then he was still too small for his flannels and still wasn’t sure how to aim a gun properly. If you were still alive what would you have looked like now? Would you be taller? Would your hair be longer? . . . And would you have recognized what he and Sam had become?

Would you recognize them at all?

“We shoulda brought flowers or something.” He mumbled, picking the few stray weeds that had grown around the base of the stone. He was fidgeting. He did that when he was uncomfortable.

“We can always go get some. We ain’t too far outside of town.”

Dean mumbled a soft I guess as he rested his chin on his knee, arms looping tightly around his leg as if trying to mimic a hug.

“I think I’m gonna call mom. She would want to be with us for the next stop we make. . . We can always come back here too if she really wants.” Sam spoke up, extending a hand to help pull his brother up.

“Do what you think is right or whatever. I’ll be in the car.” rising to his feet, Dean wiped the dirt from his hands onto the front of his jeans. If he stayed here another minute he was bound to start crying. As He began the trek back through the maze of headstones, his fingers absentmindedly tugged on the piece of fabric on his wrist. The bit of flannel gave him a sense of comfort, because sometimes a bit of cloth could feel like love, and that was all he really wanted right now. It was one of those moments in which he realized how many things he had lost that mattered. Dad. Bobby. Y/N. Sure he had lost mom, but she was back. The rest were still gone.

All he wanted was the chance to see Y/N again, to hear her say I missed you, and I've come home.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​​​​​​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​​​​​​​ @callmekda​​​​​​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​​​​​ @orphiceseum​​​​​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​​​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​​​​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​​​​​​ @gladiosamicitias​​​​​​​ @castielsangelsx​​​​​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​​​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​​​​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​​​​​​​  @totallyluciferr​​​​​​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​​​​​​ @dolanfivsosxox​​​​​​​@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​​​​​ @akshi8278​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​​​​​​ @idksupernatural​​​​​​​​ @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​​​​​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @beanie-beebo​​​​​​​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​​​​​​​ @greenarrowhead​​​​​​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​​​​​​ @brebolin​​​​​​​ @biahblue​​​​​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​​

HYMN Taglist:

@biahblue​​​ @brebolin​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​ @psych0crybaby​ @beetears​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​ @skyelikestowrite @leej2468​ @vicmc624​ @let-me-luve-you​​ @lilwinchester67​

[ladyhaesoo]

hotel blue moon | 2

"What a sight," she said, walking into the room. Waistcoat—ah, she really had to learn his name—turned to watch her. She smiled. "Shame you dropped the waistcoat. I was calling you that in my head."

a/n: no promises for how far i’ll take this i’m afraid, but i’m really digging the concept right now, so! here we are, for now. also i think i’ll be putting this up on ao3 later tonight? i saw that someone had apparently started a tag, so we shall SEE

part 1 | part 3 | read on page (not for mobile app, but it’s prettier)

Eleven AM, Sang Sang-i-Sang headquarters, future planning meeting. The sales of Zombie Kid were not bad—her sales never really are—but the negative reviews and the criticism of the artwork are taking their toll.

Her previous book, The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares, had received some of the same criticism. Why did the witch teach the life lesson? Shouldn't her cruelty be punished, rather than the boy having to stand up to his end of the deal? Why the violence in the artwork? Surely just the mention of nightmares would be enough without the screaming fear in the boy's eyes? The blood-strings had been especially gruesome to one reviewer who had left a scathing 4/10 review. Six for the story, minus two for the art.

She had earlier works that were just a little easier to digest, but as time had passed and the name and title of children's author, Ko Moonyoung, had grown, she had stopped allowing any the publishing house's censorship. Unfortunately, that meant that with every new book, someone or the other took fault with her work.

"Why won't Ko Moonyoung do what the public asks?"

Meetings with Sangin were exhausting because they meant—yes, sure, everyone would suck up to her—and yes, Sangin had absolutely none of what it took to stand up to her, especially regarding decisions on her work (her latest renewed contract had ensured that, though it hadn't been necessary)—but they were tedious. Even if she only stayed ten minutes; it was ten minutes she would rather spend anywhere else.

Today, however, Moonyoung walked into Sangin's horrendous glass palace and found—

Crisp white shirt, definitely silk, sleeves pulled up to elbows—wonderful. Black slacks, pressed. No waistcoat, but you couldn't win them all, and his shoulders were perfectly broad even without the added visual line. Were those—well, gold looking rings holding up a signed copy of The Hand, The Monkfish. Sadly, only the display copy. She would so have loved for him to be a fan.

"What a sight," she said, walking into the room. Waistcoat—ah, she really had to learn his name—turned to watch her. She smiled. "Shame you dropped the waistcoat. I was calling you that in my head."

He smiled—ah, but he was handsome. Almost irritatingly handsome. "You should have told me. I would have dressed to match your expectations."

She fluttered a hand as she sidled closer, almost in his personal bubble, if not quite. "Well, you're not meeting any of my other expectations either. I thought you'd be different, but here we are. How much has he offered you?"

He cocked his head, as if not quite sure what she was aiming at, before he raised a hand, clean bandage wrapped around it. "Oh, you mean to compensate me for getting stabbed? You know, ten million or so. Not much for such a successful children's author."

Her smile froze. "Aren't you the CEO of a hotel or something? What's ten million for a CEO?" They'd had an awkward meeting, manager to manager, the previous day as they were leaving. Sangin had been terribly apologetic, offering his manager, a harried looking man, his card. The manager looked at Waistcoat with the huff of a man who had dealt with too much crap—a look she was intimately familiar with, having been on the receiving end far too often.

Waistcoat had raised his bloody hand. "I got stabbed," he'd said, getting—surprisingly little sympathy. Maybe he did that sort of thing all the time. Maybe he was some kind of masochist? He was certainly pretty enough to tie up.

His manager had apologised for him all the same, and he and Sangin had exchanged dramatic 'you too?' stares as they discovered a kindred spirit. Wow. Moonyoung had seen the card in Sangin's hand later, but hadn't seen his name, only the logo of a hotel she wasn't familiar with.

"But does this method always work?" he asked, putting her book away. "Does it make sure no one sullies your reputation?"

She shrugged. "Verbal consolation is useless. Money is the best."

"Is it really?"

Moonyoung gave him the accusatory wide eyes. "What do you want then? Sex?" Maybe he was some sort of masochist—had she accidentally turned him on by stabbing him? She was about to laugh, when—his eyes followed a path down her legs, then back up, just slow enough, just catching on the end of her skirt, just pausing by her mouth. And just when she thought she was right, and he was in fact a creep, he opened his mouth, and said,

"Is that worth that much?"

She couldn't help the scoff, not after that stare. "Then why are you here? Don't tell me. The hotel isn't doing well? Some advertisement to get your name in the papers? Come to our hotel and get the exclusive chance for a free book reading by author Ko Moonyoung? Hotel Blue Moon, right? I've never heard of it. Do you get guests only once in a blue moon, too?"

He looked remarkably unruffled, so that was probably not it—or was his face just that good? All he said was, "My hotel doesn't need any advertising."

She cocked her head. "Why not? Is it a motel?"

He smirked at some private joke that she wasn't in on. "Maybe I should invite you sometime, and you can find out."

This got more interesting as it went. "Are you coming on to me right now?" she asked, stepping closer, properly in his personal space. He was unmoved, or simply good at not showing it; he stayed in place, looking down at her—even in her heels—and said,

"Is that what you'd like?" Before she could say something—yes?—no?—both, maybe, he continued, "But no. Take it as goodwill, Ko Moonyoung. I hope you don't come to my hotel for years. I hope you never come there."

That—was unexpected. She raised her chin, putting her blunt jaw between them. "Why not?" He had been flirting a moment ago.

He smiled, and looked over her shoulder, face transforming to something far less. Like this, he almost looked pleasant and boring, but it had slipped off his face so quickly she knew it couldn't be real. She looked behind her, and—sure enough, Sangin, with his little not-so-discreet boxes of cash.

"What's this? I thought you said you didn't need money." And he wasn't going to answer her question now. She was not a person accustomed to disappointment, not these days.

Waistcoat shrugged. "I said it's not the best solution... but I have no problem taking money. I got stabbed, remember?" He walked up to Sangin, took the two boxes from Sangin's hands, and left before anyone else could get a word out.

Sangin looked stunned—just for a moment, though, before he took off running after him with the drink he'd bought him. "Kangtae-ssi!" he called. "Kangtae-ssi!"

Kangtae.

Well, she could at least stop calling him Waistcoat now. Not that it mattered, she supposed. I hope you never come to my hotel. He had taken his money, and left.

All the same. Eleven-thirteen, Sang Sang-i-Sang balcony, as she waited for a meeting delayed by an unexpected gust of wind knocking Sangin and his coffee over. Across the street, Kangtae, shoulders broader than the tree trunks he was walking by, sun glinting off his hair. Maybe his hotel was shit. Maybe it really was a motel. Whatever his hotel was, the man himself was—

"Beautiful."

She could just see it—striding out into the city, heel crushing pavement, picking him up by the collar, asking him what the hell he meant, and—

He looked back over his shoulder, meeting her eye through the pincers she had made with her fingers. Then he winked.

She wanted him.

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

21 - Unwanted Inconvenience

I've changed the band name from "Xannys" to "Grimlace". I am extremely sorry for making you all suffer through having such an awful band name in the past.

I cannot stress this enough, please vote for my chapters! And I love every comment I get so much!! It makes my day seeing the number of comments I get:)

This chapters songs:

Retreat! - Crumb

Sponge Won't Soak - Wild Moccasins

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

- Y. L. Perspective

"Uhm...Suga?" Tanaka's voice is heard to our left, waking both me Koshi up from our very long nap. "We're here you know."

His awkward tone alone was enough to send us both jumping out of our seats, fearful that the entire team had waited for us to get up. But thankfully, it was just Daichi and Tanaka standing above us.

Both Koshi and I look at each other in unison. "Sorry..." he manages to mumble while leaving the seat. I follow him shortly after, leaving the van empty.

Was I sorry? No. The nap against Koshi was five stars. I hadn't ever had such a comfortable car ride in my entire life until I rested on him. Besides, he was my boyfriend. Why would I be sorry for something silly like that?

What I was sorry about was that we almost got noticed by Eclair. The entire team knew about Koshi and me, except for her. I didn't know much about her and from what I perceived of her she didn't seem like a drama starter. She would most likely cry and yell and forget about it when she went back to France in a couple of days.

We had thought everyone would be tired after such a long car ride. But not Hinata. He admired the structure of the big building, yelling, "Wow! I've never been to a training camp before! This feels so cool!"

"It's just a training camp," Kageyama remarked, yet Hinata stands unfazed.

The team entered the building, all of us observing its basic beige architecture and decor. Everyone gathered around Takeda to ask which rooms they were assigned to. As for Kiyoko, Eclair, and I—we had asked him beforehand to get a head start.

All three of us manage to sneak off from the crowd and hunt down our room number: #613. Although I wasn't very comfortable around Eclair, I didn't feel uneasy to be sleeping in the same room as her. It only meant I couldn't update Kiyoko on my relationship with Sugawara.

Once we'd found our designated room, I unfolded the tiny key and stick it into the lock, hearing a click not soon after I turn it.

When I had opened the door, I wasn't entirely dissatisfied. There were two bunk beds on each side of the room, all four mattresses covered in floral printed sheets with nightstands next to them. The curtains had the same pattern as the sheets, falling over a large square window.

Overall, it was a nice room. Way nicer than the previous motels and hotel rooms that my band had stayed in during concerts and such. All stank of marijuana and alcohol.

Eclair's brackets make a 'jingle!' sound while she squealed, "it's lovely!" The girl runs up to one of the bottom bunks and places her bag there, collapsing onto the mattress. "I'm so thankful to be spending my last few days in Japan here!"

Kiyoko nods gently, her too putting her luggage on the opposite bunk bed. Assuming she wouldn't mind it, I threw my bag on the bunk above her. It would most likely be easier to communicate with her if I shared a bed with her.

"Yes, it's very nice," I say, smiling merely at the blonde girl.

Kiyoko began to unpack her toiletries into the small drawer attached to the bunk bed. I hopped down from the top bed and did the same, observing the carvings that the drawers had. Names, dates, and funny remarks were scratched out in the middle of it, lots of them left from previous sports or art students that came to this building for a camp of some kind. All were either hilarious, inappropriate, or gentle. But in all, they made me smile.

"So you're in a band, Y/n?"

In my eyes widen in fear. Nobody from the team other than Sugawara, Daichi, and Kiyoko knew that I was in a band. So how did the girl find out?

Hesitantly turning my head, I nod, making out an awkward smile across my face. "Uhh, yeah. How'd you know?"

She sits up confidently and chuckles. "I was taking a glance at your Instagram. You seem to go on a lot of trips around the world!"

I wasn't very used to being confronted about my band. And besides that, being acknowledged she was looking through my Instagram was stressful. If she knew about my band, was it possible she knew about Koshi and me?

"Yeah, I travel now and then." Proceeding to unpack my things as if it was no issue to be questioned, I place my pairs of shoes under the bed.

No matter how uncomfortable I attempted to make my tone, she kept on going. "Oh...that sounds like fun! You must have so many fans. Your voice is great too. I wonder why you've never told them team about Grimlace!"

"Hm, I like to keep my life outside of volleyball private..." I say. "Could you please not tell anybody else?"

My question sure was quiet but clear to her. It would determine whether or not Eclair was a bitch or genuinely a nice girl.

Thankfully, she nods lightly, messing with her nails. "Of course not."

Suddenly, the conversation is put to the side by a knock on our door, sending Eclair, hushed Kiyoko, and me to flinch.

Kiyoko puts a hand on her chest, sighing in relief that the tension was interrupted. "Come in," she tells the person on the other side of the door.

Two boys are revealed; Nishinoya and Tanaka walk in, already dressed down in their "sleep clothes", which consisted of a white t-shirt and shorts. Could I talk any mess about their outfits? Nope! I was planning on wearing the same thing.

The buzzcut bow flutters his eyes at the sight of Kiyoko brushing her hair and quickly grows flustered. "L-ladies! Dinner is on the table." He spoke loud in nervousness. "Do you guys like your room?"

"Tanaka, we've been in here less than ten minutes. I'm surprised you're already gotten dressed!" Kiyoko speaks in a sweet tone that seems to mesmerize him. She finished up brushing the ends of her hair and dusts her hands off on her sweat pants, before looking towards the other two girls in the room: Eclair and I.

We nod and drop what we were doing to exit the room with her. If the odds were in my favor, Eclair wouldn't continue interrogating me during dinner. If so, she would soon find out about Koshi and me from one of the men that walked behind us, flustered they'd

Not soon after leaving, we arrive in the mess hall, where the volleyball club was spread around filling their plates and emptying them into their tummies.

The two boys leave our side to continue eating and we help ourselves to some plates. Today they served simple rice, roasted vegetables, and chicken. Nothing special, nothing utterly disgusting. As I'm picking up my food, I look over to the lunch table that the boys were scattered upon, keeping an eye out for any gray-haired men.

There he sat next to Daichi, eating small portions of the rice left in his bowl. 'Does Eclair's being here mean I'm not allowed to sit next to my boyfriend during dinner?' I think internally, finishing filling my plate.

Kiyoko helps herself to sit right next to Daichi, fitting in with the rest of the third years that sat on the bench next to the second years Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita. Across from them were the first years and the terrible two: Tanaka and Noya.

I stood uncomfortably at the end of the wooden table, looking over it to see if there were any empty seats I could eat in. All that looked back at me were eyes of curiosity and confusion.

It only took a few seconds of staring until someone was nice enough to mention my standing there.

"Y/n! Why don't you take my spot? I'm just about done anyway," Daichi tells me while he got up from the bench with the now empty tray. I look at Daichi, then Koshi, then to Eclair who was now walking towards the lunch table.

I of course didn't want her to take my spot, so I nod and bow politely, before switching places with Sawamura. He pays my shoulder gently, whispering, "you're welcome!"

Kiyoko and Koshi both smile at me, scooting over the slightest to make room for me. I say my thanks for my food and began picking at my rice, listening in on the boy's conversation.

"And then I spent my time practicing on the girls' team since I didn't have anyone else to practice with me. It sure felt like I was a part of their club!" Hinata told us, Eclair sitting down next to him, beginning to eat her food as well. "What about you guys? Did you guys have any rough stories before getting into volleyball?"

Tanaka cuts the air with his pointer finger, motioning for us to pause any conversation until he was done chewing. "I used to be a mega introvert before attending Karasuno!"

"Yup, Ryunosuke was just like Kageyama but worse," Nishinoya commented.

I raise a brow at the mention of that. Tanaka—a boy at the edge of having a breakdown?! I couldn't speak for myself. I too was a short-tempered girl towards the beginning of high school.

Kageyama scoffs, rolling his eyes at the mention of his name. "I'm not that bad, you know." We all knew that was a lie. As much as he denied it, Tobio struggled with his anger issues.

Eclair raises her hand slightly, swallowing a lump of rice. "Don't sweat it Kags, everyone has their embarrassing issues. For instance: I used to be such an obsessive girl in my first year. I'm sure I was a nuisance to many of the people in the volleyball club. Always talking in class and being a ditz was my specialty!"

"What about you, Y/n? Have you ever been involved in volleyball, or is this your first time being a part of a volleyball club?" Nishinoya asks me. At first, I thought of shaking my head and replying with a no, as if my memory of middle school had disappeared from my mind.

After thinking about what to reply with for a second or two, I nod my head slightly. "Hm...in junior high I was on the girls' volleyball team, but I was more of a bench warmer. I only joined the team to be closer to my friends, that's all."

"Aren't you friends with the captain of Seijoh 

boys volleyball club? You know, since you went to middle school with him?"

I look up to the girl who assumed such ridiculous things, Eclair. There she sat with her chopsticks in hand, lips parting slightly. It was crystal clear that she was trying to dig out my history and force me to tell the volleyball club about my personal life further than what I was comfortable with.

Knowing that I was uneasy, Koshi lays his hand gently onto my knee under the table, squeezing it ever so slightly. My heart beats in its cage, anxious at how many ways this conversation could go if I had said the wrong thing.

"...is that true?" Asahi asks, looking at his fellow teammates to observe their reactions. All of them looked just the same: betrayed.

"Eclair, it's best not to assume things about people you barely know," Koshi tells the girl in a monotone voice, making it obvious that he knew her intentions.

'Well, this got awkward fast.'

"It's okay. Uhm— I'm not friends with any members of Aoba Johsai's volleyball members. Where did you hear that?" I ask, setting down my utensils and clasping my hands together. Surely her reasoning has to be good if it meant ruining my very new relationships with most of the boys at the table.

Most of them sigh after my question, placing hands in their chests. "I thought you were a traitor for a second, Y/n! Eclair, you scared us half to death!" Noya whines.

The girl blinks a few times, shrugging. "I'm terribly sorry! I heard it from a girl that goes to Aoba Johsai, she says that Oikawa never stops talking about Y/n! She only knew by looking up your name and finding out she went to Karasuno."

"Seems you have a crush on Y/n, Eclair. You're almost addicted to looking into her past." Kiyoko suddenly made a remark, smirking as she drank a sip of her water.

The girl grows flustered very quickly, blushing. "No! Sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I'm only interested in what it's like to live without many boundaries. My father never lets me lay a finger on anything that could potentially ruin his vision of what his daughter should be," an innocent look is spread across her face as she says so.

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that Eclair." Yamaguchi makes a sweet comment, ignorant that she was guilt-tripping. I'd never pictured her to be such a manipulative girl yet calm and poised at once.

She nods, continuing to eat her food.

Though it was her fault entirely, Eclair was saddened that what was supposed to be an enjoying dinner turned out to be silent and awkward. I was growing extremely tired of her passive-aggressive attitude towards me, but losing sight of why I came to this training camp was not an option. I don't care how badly Eclair could hurt my feelings, I won't let it get to me.

-

Thank you so much for reading this chapter!! I know it's been so late since I've updated. Pls forgive me! I've just now started school again so things are keeping me from writing. Love you all as always,

- estrxlar

[artificialqueens]

White Noise (What an Awful Sound), Ch. 1 (Crystal/Gigi) - Meta

A/N: Ahh this is the first drag race fic I’ve ever written, so please leave some feedback! I would love to know your opinions.

Gigi Goode loved her life in LA, she was quiet, popular, and rich. That was until her dad lost his job, forcing them to move to Springfield, Missouri, the only place he could find another job with a substantial enough salary. Gigi didn’t expect to like Missouri, actually she definitely knew she would hate it, but then she meets her loud, talkative neighbor Crystal and suddenly Gigi doesn’t think Missouri will be that bad.

Gigi watched as the trees passed by the window of the moving truck. They had been driving for fifteen hours and twenty-three minutes already. Counting as the minutes ticked away was the only thing Gigi could focus on doing, beyond sleeping. Her mother had graciously allowed her the window seat in the truck. Squeezing herself in between Gigi and her father, that way they could have a conversation without having to talk over her. It’s not like it would’ve mattered, Gigi had put her airpods in the second she buckled her seat belt, not hearing a single word her parents had said apart from asking her every few hours if she needed to pee or wanted to get out and stretch her legs. Her parents didn’t try to engage her with conversation, they knew Gigi didn’t like to talk. She was content just sitting in silence and often answered questions with just a nod and smile or a one word response.

Gigi had no idea how much time had passed since they last stopped to grab snacks but she could just make out the large “Welcome to Missouri” sign in the distance. “More like misery.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes at the “I” dotted with a sun. Gigi’s mom pretended not to hear her.

“Well Gigi, are you excited about your new school?” Her dad tried.

“Oh totally. Who wouldn’t love to start at a new school right at the end of a semester.” Gigi responded with a tight, pained smile. Her mom reached over and rubbed her shoulder.

“Oh honey, I know it’s gonna be hard at first but you had lots of friends back in LA. I am sure you’ll make loads of new ones here in Springfield.” Gigi scoffed.

“I don’t want to make new friends here, I want to be back with my old friends.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, realizing just how much of a cliche she sounded.

“Honey I know you do but I got a very good job opportunity here and we couldn’t pass it up.” Her dad added reaching over to pat Gigi’s knee. She found herself rolling her eyes again.

“It’s fine. I’ll be just fine.” Gigi said, turning back to the window. Her mom sighed but didn’t push any further. This was the most emotion they had gotten from Gigi since they told her about the move.

Shortly after, the truck pulled into the driveway of a small blue house. It was quite adorable, Gigi had to admit. Her parents did a good job picking it out. She unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of the moving truck almost immediately, walking around and doing a couple squats just to make sure she still had function in her legs after sitting for so long.

“Alright babe, I think it’s time miss Gigi Goode got a tour of her new house, don’t you?” Her dad asked as he slammed the car door shut.

“Why absolutely. Come of hon, I’ll show you your room!” Gigi’s mom grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the porch before pulling out her keys and unlocking the door for the first time, “After you madame.”

As soon as Gigi stepped through the doorway she was hit with the smell of fresh paint. They’d had painters come in yesterday and paint the whole house a cool gray except for Gigi’s room, which was a pale yellow, and the master bedroom which was painted a very pretty sage green.

“So Gi, our bedroom is here, right around that corner. Dad’s office is right next to it.” Her mom explained. She was walking Gigi through all the rooms and showing her everything they had changed before moving in. All small cosmetic things, fixing all small blemishes that made the house less than perfect.

“Wait, where is my room then?” Gigi asked, there didn’t appear to be any other rooms.

“Well hon, we thought you’d appreciate some privacy,” Her mom led her to a staircase that was nicely hidden behind a wall. “So, we decided that your room would be the upstairs loft area.” She said, giving Gigi a small nudge for her to go up.

Gigi was overwhelmed, standing in the middle of her new room, the reality of her situation finally hit her. She was never going back to LA, this is where she lived now. The worst part was, she actually kind of liked her new room and she enjoyed how excited her mom was while showing her around. “Genevieve Goode, you’re gonna suck it up and make the most out of living in Springfield, Misery.” What? She didn’t say she would start right away.

Gigi made her way back downstairs to help her parents start moving their things. She slowed her pace when she noticed someone standing there talking to her mom. A woman, probably a couple years older than her dad, with long, curly hair pulled into a ponytail. She was wearing terrible mom jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Great, she was already a victim of horrendous fashion. Nothing could have prepared her for probably the ugliest shirt she had ever seen coming around the truck. It was loud and pink, and orange, there was definitely some yellow and blue in there as well. Gigi blinked as the shirt moved closer to her, finally registering the person wearing it. A teenage girl with round glasses and wild curly hair. She was holding a box and nodded as Gigi’s mom told her to just set in down in the kitchen.

“Hi, I’m Crystal!” The girl beamed as she made her way back out of the house. She stuck her hand out for Gigi to shake.

“Oh uh, hey. Gi-Gigi.” She said. Gigi grabbed Crystal’s hand suddenly when she’d realized she left the girl hanging.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Gigi.” She repeated the taller girl’s name carefully. Gigi just smiled and mumbled a small ‘you too’ before turning and joining her dad at the back of the truck. As she helped pull boxes from the back of the truck she could hear Crystal talking to her mother.

“I really love what you’ve done with the house Mrs. Goode! My old best friend, Aiden, used to live here and phew, her family really did not have the interior design touch.” Gigi chuckled to herself listening to Crystal ramble.

“Good god I think that girl has said more in the fifteen minutes we’ve known her, than you have your whole life.” Gigi’s dad said.

“Ha ha.” Gigi rolled her eyes. She picked up a box labeled “Gigi’s Crap”, courtesy of her father. “Holy shit.” She said dropping the box. Jeez, did she pack every single item in her room into one box? She bent down to pick it back up.

“Here let me get that one.” Crystal was right there squatting down to pick up the box. Gigi looked up into her eyes and, damn. How did she not notice how nice Crystal’s skin was or how great her eyebrows were. Plus my god her tan…

“O-oh yeah, sure totally.” Gigi said letting go of the box. She took a step back and just watched as Crystal made her toward the house again.

“Here champ,” Gigi’s dad said, handing her another box. “Don’t worry, it’s just pillows. Hope you can handle it.”

“Ya know, I’m not sure I can, old man.” She said, struggling to pick up the light box.

Gigi picked up the box and followed Crystal into the house. They made their way up the stairs and into Gigi’s bedroom. Crystal sat the box down on the window seat before sitting down next to it.

“I wish my room had a window seat.” She said. Gigi watched as she swung her legs back and forth. Her very tan, toned legs.

“Oh yeah it’s..great.” Gigi swallowed hard.

“S-so uh, where are you all from?” Crystal asked, still smiling. My god had she stopped smiling at all since she introduced herself?

“California.”

“Wow, I’ve never even been out of Springfield. Don’t worry I won’t ask if you miss it. Like that’s kinda obvious.” Crystal rolled her eyes. Gigi just nodded in response, she had no idea what to say. Standing in her room, alone with Crystal, she was becoming increasingly self-aware. Gigi felt disgusting, she just spent 24 hours in a dingy moving truck and the night in a shady motel. She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Um, okay. So I think I’m gonna go back downstairs and uh see if your parents need more help.” Crystal ran her hand through her hair awkwardly before standing up and walking past Gigi.

Gigi followed Crystal downstairs, kicking herself for not being able to speak to the girl beyond a couple of words. Now she was gonna go back to her own house and never speak to Gigi again.

“Oh great, the girls are back.” Crystal’s mom pointed to the teens as they made their way down the porch stairs, “Honey, we’re gonna have the Goode’s over for dinner tomorrow. You girls can get to know each other better before school on Monday huh?”

“Yeah totally, it’ll be fun.” Crystal said, looking over Gigi. She tried to avoid eye contact, not wanting Crystal to know she had been looking at her the whole time. Just wow, who let her be that pretty? Shouldn’t that be illegal or something.

“Okay, well thank you so much ladies for helping us with these boxes. I think we can finish the rest ourselves. I wouldn’t want to impose on the rest of your evening.” Gigi’s dad said.

“Oh no, you’re no imposition at all. But I do think we should get going, Crystal’s dad will be home soon and I should get started on dinner.” Crystal waved goodbye to Gigi before turning around and walking back to her home.

Once they finished moving everything off the truck, Gigi excused herself for the rest of the night. She unpacked a couple boxes and most of her clothes. Occasionally she would look out her window at Crystal’s house, secretly hoping to see her in one of the windows. She never did though. After around nine o’clock all the lights in the big, yellow house turned off and Gigi decided to just give up and go to bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from moving.

[queenofgoats]

Thank You For Being A Friend | Imagine a night out with Dean

Summary: On her first hunt, OC fails all along the line and falls into an emotional down. Now Dean tries to cheer her up and takes her out.

Characters: POV fem!OC x Dean

Word Count: 2.746

Warning: insecurities, alcohol, flirtations and words = just spn

A/N: Hello dears!

I wrote this little FF for the challenge from supernatural-love14. My prompt was: "we probably shouldn't be doing this"

The hardest part was definitely the bar. I miss the old social life so, so much! 

Still, I hope you have as much fun reading here as I do writing.

Have fun! :)

"We probably shouldn't be doing this..." I said slowly. Emphasizing each word.

My eyes rested on the two brothers in front of me.

“That's exactly what I told you. I mean, I'm terribly sorry for what happened, but you know...”

Actually, I wanted to apologize last night, but it turned a bit differently somehow.

None of this would have happened if the Winchesters had listened to me. And if I wouldn't have let them convince me.

“I know.” Sam sighed into his coffee.

His brother, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as guilty: “But it wasn't our idea that you would get drunk this hard and jump right at the next dude’s lips.”

Dean had a point.

It should only be a small drink. After months of isolation in the bunker, I was allowed to join a case for the first time. Do some research in the library, get a taste of civilisation and just come out again in general. Easy thing.

Because back in the bunker I had created a whole new definition of cabin fever. Not something to be proud of to be honest.

The case itself seemed pretty clear and totally easy at first.

Nobody would have expected that the wraith with a faible for “Schoolgirl Report” would work with an incubus. Nobody!

The last-named picked me up later in the bar, where we three had toasted, to get revenge on his dead friend.

It was horribly. Bloody. And I had a new topic for my future therapist.

“I’m really sorry.” I finally mumbled.

I felt terrible. Just because of me, Sam was forced to wear a cast on his arm again.

Now it was me who buried her eyes in the coffee.

"I should have known. That will never happen again. Promise!"

Dean looked up: "How would you have known?"

I winced, caught and hesitantly tried to explain myself.

“Well. Actually it was obvious that I normally wouldn't have a chance with a guy like him...

“Oh come on!” Dean interrupted me despising “Don’t do this the girly way.”

“...but it’s true! Please look at you and then at me. I…”

First I started to give more examples of my low self-confidence, but decided against it.

Nothing honest ever comes around in these talks. You're just trying to make the other feel better.

“Okay, wait. Just forget it. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Let’s say it was my fault and won’t happen again. Ever!”

I stopped the subject and did not tolerate any contradictions.

Sam seemed to want to say something, but luckily I put him off with my eyes.

Our breakfast ended in awkward silence.

Less than an hour later, I found myself in my motel room packing up my things. Even if unconsciously, I gave myself more time here than necessary.

The mood between us was strange. Of course, once in a while in the bunker we were bitching at each other, but this situation will set the course for possible further cases. Or living together in general.

Exhausted, I sat down on the edge of the bed and fell back with my arms outstretched.

Thoughtfully, I pale my cheeks and let the air slowly escape.

I sure didn't have too much pride to apologize. Mostly too often rather than too little.

But this was different.

The Winchesters had seen a side of me, that no one else had seen before. The little, vulnerable girl who just wants to be good enough. I hated her.

Not even I confronted her myself. I knew from experience that other people got ther completely wrong. Attention whore and fishing for compliments were nicer reactions.

Oh dear Chuck, I prayed that Sam and Dean would just forget about this and never bring it up again.

At this moment I heard car doors slamming shut outside in the parking lot. That gave me a little nudge and I finally got up.

I put my travel bag under my arm. On the heel I turned around again briefly to make sure that I had really not forgotten anything and finally closed the door.

Sam and Dean stood at the Impala and seemed to be talking about something quite emotional.

They even played Rock-Paper-Scissors.

“Hey boys, are we ready?” I interrupted them from afar. Not that I got anything in my ears that wasn't meant for me. They startled and turned to me.

I almost felt a little transported back to school. Despite the queasy feeling in my stomach, I just ignored it. Stowed my things in the trunk and went to my place in the back seat.

Unfortunately the ride didn't get any better. It wasn't that anyone was mad, but there was definitely something between us. How am I supposed to fix it?

A few hours later we arrived at the bunker late at night.

I literally jumped out of the car and ran down to my room. Did I ever feel so out of place?

Probably not. I couldn’t stand them at the moment and needed to be alone for a few minutes.

Just as I threw my jacket on the bed, there was a knock on the door.

“Yes please?” I sounded more annoyed than actually wanted.

Unusually careful, Dean entered the room and looked at me quite defensive.

“I overreacted, sorry for this.” I sighed. “This was not necessary.”

“Yeah, normally you’re not a drama queen. So it’s okay.”

Dean stepped across the room and sat on the edge of my bed: “That’s why I… or we think you didn’t exaggerate this morning. You really meant it ”

We?! Did they talk about me?

I cleared my throat.

“Oh boy... Embarrassing.” It rang out of me.

Dean continued: “Uhm, I’m sorry too! I really am! That didn’t go well for all of us.”

He stopped and fixed indefinite points in the room. Apparently he was looking for the right words.

“You know. You are here… with us all along. And hey, you are a girl and have needs...”

I didn't know where this was going, but I did not like it.

“Dean. No. Seriously. We won’t have The Talk. I told you, something like this will never happen again and it’s fine. Can we leave it at that, please?”

We couldn’t. He raised his finger and looked deep into my eyes: “No.”

I huffed.

“You deserve to have fun and go out from time to time.”

“Yeah and you remember how it ended?”

“That’s why you are going out with me. I’m not a monster and in case of emergency I’ll protect you.”

I looked at Dean Winchester for quite a while.

In the middle of the room I stood there, arms crossed. Trying to hold back my anger.

“Wow. Really. How heroic.”

He hadn't expected this reaction: “What?”

“First: You do this out of pity. Second: Your pity is not big enough. So you and your brother fought to see who had to take me out.”

Caught!

“Why would you think that?” He asked, playing outraged.

“You can’t fool me, Dean. And I saw you at the parking spot back at the motel. You and Sam played about it. Since you always lose and are here now...”

There was silence.

“Wow.” Dean huffed. “You must think I'm quite a dick now.”

“Not only quite.” I said and immediately smirked slightly. Of course I can’t stay mad.

Slowly I walked to the bed and sat next to him.

“I mean… I know you had the best intentions, but... It’s just… Can you imagine how I feel? Going out, just because someone feels sorry?”

In fact, it made me feel worse than before.

“I didn’t mean to.” Dean apologized. “But I want you to feel better. Nevertheless.”

Right the next evening I stood in front of my mirror and applied some eyeliner. Or rather corrected it.

I haven’t opened my makeup bag in ages. Let alone putting on a simple cover stick.

Jepp, I was quite nervous. Even if Dean and I agreed to go out, but as friends, it scared me a bit.

Just couldn’t tell why.

I was so insecure! Every view of myself made it worse. Was the lipstick too much? Maybe I should change the dress. It was way too short! Phew, and my thighs have seen better days.

These months in the bunker didn't exactly flatter my figure.

Maybe I should cancel this evening.

“Hey, swing down sweet Chariot!” Dean poked his head through the door and tapped his watch. “Hurry up!”

Oh dear Chuck, what have I done? It’s not that I think anything would change in the relationship between Dean and me, but still...

“One minute!” I replied and walked quickly to the door.

His eyes went wide and he formed his lips for a whistle.

“Don’t do it!” I interrupted him. “Let’s go. I need a drink. Urgent.”

Dean just laughed and followed me to the Impala. Noticing he also dressed up.

Not a flannel shirt in sight, just a simple but fine black one.

Apparently Dean tried to take my nervousness away and covered everything with slightly gentleman behavior. First held the car door open for me and then, while I reached for the not existing seatbelt,

he held a small bottle of sparkling wine under my nose.

“It’s going to be a four hour drive. Save it.”

Now he had me. I laughed: “Thank you. You’re the sweetest.”

After we left the streets of Lebanon and I took a few relieving sipps, I asked him where we were actually going.

“Vegas, Baby!” was the answer.

I raised an eyebrow: “Okay I’m in, but Elvis takes me to the altar.”

Dean chuckles. “Alrighty then.”

Of course it was not Vegas, but we ended up in Kansas City. And that meant big city. Like really big. Skyscraper. Waste Gas. Too many people. I missed it so much! All of it.

“Oh Dean, you're making me the happiest girl in the world.”

He laughed: “Oh dear, I hear this pretty often.”

What was the last time I saw a billboard with LED lights?

It took us a while to find a parking space and finally to stand in front of a bar. At first it didn't look like anything. I even tried to remember when I had my last tetanus vaccination.

But when we got inside we stood in a very cozy place. Dark red curtains hung on the walls, while the light provided a pleasant atmosphere.

Dean and I chose one of the dark leather sofas that I'm sure has seen quite a few butts in it’s life.

It was so soft!

Excited, I grabbed the drinks menu from the small table in front of us. I spent so many weeks in the bunker, this trip was just liberating.

“Dean, this is so awesome!” I thanked him again. “Do you already know, what do you want to drink?”

He laughed quietly. “Dunno. Couldn’t look in the menu yet.”

It didn't take long for the two of us to place our orders. Just as the waitress left, I turned to Dean.

“Hey erm…” I cleared my throat. “I know, I've been saying it the whole time, but now again, calmly and seriously: Thank you very much Dean.”

I let my gaze wander around the bar and put the next words in my head. A mildly sigh escaped my lips.

“And I know you are doing this, just because you feel sorry for me.”

I paused and raised my hands defensively: “Which is fine! Really! Oh dear... What I actually want to say is… You are a good friend, Dean.”

Something in Deans face changed and he began to look at me like only his brother normally does.

“Do you really think so? For the last time: I’m here with you, because I want to. No lost bet or anything else.”

He rubbed his face, puffing.

“You just think too much.” He stopped while the waitress brought us our drinks.

He grabbed his glas and raised it: “Promise me one thing. Don’t worry about anything tonight and just… have fun.”

A warm smile laid on his lips.

“Promise.” I agreed and toasted my glass.

Some drinks later I was much more relaxed. I completely forgot that I could laugh heartily.

Not a thought has been wasted on the end of the world. There was only this moment. Like a little safespace.

In front of me was no longer Dean Winchester the hunter, but a good friend.

Someone you like to be around. I felt good.

“Hey you two, can I do something good for you?” The waitress asked very friendly.

Dean waved with his empty glass and ordered another round for us.

Toughfully I looked at him: “We already had a lot of drinks. Don’t you have to drive? Cause I can’t anymore.”  

He looked at me thoughtfully.

“Yeah… you’re right. But I don’t want to go yet.”

Dean paused.

“I like it here.” He said with a smirking face.

I leaned back quite drunk: “However, a normal cola couldn't hurt. Otherwise you have to hold my hair later.”

We decided to take a motel afterwards near the bar.

“...you had to see Sammy's face! He was so pissed!”

Dean told about his poor brother. Siblings were the best and the worst at the same time.

“That’s mean.” I commented. “Hilarious, but mean.”

A lot more drinks later we just fooled around. At first I didn't notice that we were sitting very close together, only when Dean put his hand on my knee.

I looked down confused, but let him do it.

When was the last time something like this happened to me? Way too long! Then I thought about WHO was actually sitting next to me. And winced.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked unexpectedly softly while not moving his hand.

I huffed. Not that I was uncomfortable, it was just... new.

My cheeks literally glowed. Slightly nervous I smiled at him.

“No. Erm wait. Yes. I’m okay. Yeah.”

Accidentally my eyes stuck on his lips. His so perfectly formed lips.

Have they always looked so soft?

I forced myself off Dean's forbidden beautiful lips, only to sink into his eyes.

Now I knew how a moth felt in the face of the moon.

“I am really glad that you are here with me.” His voice was more like a breath.

We both leaned forward a little at the same time. Barely noticeable.

My heart jumps right into my throat. I knew what was about to happen, but my insecurity cut it off.

Why did I fool myself into this situation? Dean Winchester would never. Especially not with me. That’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!

Suddenly Dean brushed a lost strand of hair from my face and gently ran his finger down behind the ear until it reached the chin. There he paused.

The skin he touched felt electrified. My goosebumps had goosebumps!

“Don’t think too much. Remember?”, he taught me.

His voice forced me out of my head and back into the bar. Back to his eyes.

I wasn’t able to say anything. So I just nodded.

The hand went back up from the chin. Very slowly. Stroking my cheek and sliding in my hair.

His touches calmed me.

He got to the back of my head, slowly pulled me towards him.

When our lips touched a switch inside me flipped. I was no longer able to think anything up, just let myself go. While his scent settled in my nose and seemed to rise into my head.

The lips were much softer than I could have dreamed of. They tasted a little like whiskey.

My eyes closed all by themselves and my body leaned itself towards. Even my tongue had developed a life of its own and began to ask for entrance very carefully. Just to be met by Deans.

I put my hand on the back of his neck and moved down. Resting at his chest.

All of a sudden I became aware of what I was doing. And with whom.

Against my own will, I broke the kiss and only brought as much distance as necessary between us.

“We probably shouldn't be doing this.” I lied to myself, but not moving my hand from his chest.

Dean sighed heavy: “Would you just stop saying this?”

Barely pronounced the last words, he pulled me into an intense kiss again.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Eight

When Ignis heard something hit the ground and a devastating neigh from Erra, he pulled on the chocobo's reins and forced it to turn around. On the road, he spotted (Y/n)'s body with the horse nudging his snout against her shoulder. He shouted her name, commanding the bird to trot. Rushing over, he hopped off the chocobo and kneeled beside the Horseman.

Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio heard the advisor shout Pestilence's name and stopped. They turned and saw the current state of their female companion. Briskly, they rode over and checked on her.

"W-What's wrong with (Y/n)?" Prompto asked in a shaky tone, noting the blood dripping from her eyes and ears.

Ignis told them what she had told him only minutes ago. After his explanation, he eyed the raven-haired boy. "Noct, I need you to retrieve the Regalia. In her unconscious state, it would be difficult to get her back to Old Lestallum any other way."

"Y-Yeah." Noctis mounted his chocobo and took off alongside Prompto and Gladio.

The strategist gathered (Y/n)'s body into his arms and moved her out of the middle of the road. Erra sidled up to him, worried about his rider.

Once in the grass and off the road, Ignis placed her body down gently. He tried to use a potion to help her, but it had no effect. Blood continued to seep from her eyes and ears as he helplessly watched. He wiped a few stray blood drops from her cheeks, which were immediately replaced by more. At one point, he swore he felt no pulse. Regardless of her status as an immortal, he found himself more worried for her well-being than he would've imagined.

The Regalia arrived a few minutes later. Noctis hopped out from behind the wheel and opened the door to the backseat. Ignis carried (Y/n) in his arms and placed her on the seat before getting in himself. Once seated, he laid the girl's head on his thigh and combed a few white strands of hair out of her face. He kept his eyes focused on her and didn't notice their arrival back in Old Lestallum until he heard Iris' concerned voice. "Oh, gods. I-Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Gladio assured his little sister.

"Prompto, procure a room," Ignis said.

"On it!" The blonde dashed out of the car and to the front desk of the motel.

The royal advisor exited the car and then took (Y/n)'s body, once again, into his arms. Prompto came back and pointed him in the direction of the room.

Once inside the small room, Ignis placed the Horseman's body on the bed before shuffling into the bathroom and wetting a washcloth. With it, he wiped the blood from her cheeks, eyes, and ears. Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Iris watched in silence as they gathered around the bed.

Ignis didn't stop wiping away the blood until it stopped ten minutes later. His companions left the room to restock their supply of curatives at his request a few minutes ago. With a heavy sigh, he moved from (Y/n)'s side and sat in the chair located in the corner of the small room. He leaned back, feeling the exhaustion from the battle and the restless nights assault his being all at once. Eventually, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

<------<<<<<<<

An hour sailed by in a flurry. Before the haunting images could rush through his mind, Ignis felt a warm sensation surround his entire body. Gradually, his eyes opened when he felt something cool press against his forehead. What greeted him upon opening his eyes was a pleasant and shocking sight-his and (Y/n)'s faces were mere inches apart.

Pestilence blinked owlishly a few times when realizing the tactician was awake and removed her hand from his forehead. "Apologies for awakening you, Ignis. You seemed...unwell while you slept. I hoped my magic would've soothed you, but it seems I've disturbed you instead. I know you haven't slept properly in a while and wanted to bestow upon you at least a few minutes of peaceful sleep." She placed her hands on his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs across the ridge of his cheekbones with a smile. "You will tell me what this nightmare is about one of these days."

Ignis was unable to mutter a syllable as he was lost in her (e/c) eyes and gentle touch. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form a sentence, but not even a single noise escaped his throat.

(Y/n) realized she broke the man's calm and collective demeanor, causing her to giggle. "Seems I've left you speechless."

The door to the room suddenly swung open, revealing Noctis and Gladio. The prince and his shield froze when they saw the position the two were in. "Uh..." Noctis muttered, unable to finish his sentence.

"We interrupting, Iggy?" Gladio guffawed with a smirk when he saw the strategist's face.

Pestilence tore her gaze from the bespectacled man and looked at the two, her hands still on his face. "While you three chat, I must go and check on Erra. I fear I've worried him." She dropped her hands to her sides and left the room briskly.

Once Pestilence was out of sight, Gladio arched a brow with a grin. "You gonna tell us what that was all about?"

"I...am unable to explain clearly as of this moment," Ignis confesses.

"Wow..." Noctis mumbled in surprise. "Never seen you so...broken. What the hell happened in here?"

The brute's grin festered. "Iggy's crushing-hard. Never thought I'd see the day where a girl made our cool and level-headed Iggy a mess. Hell, I never expected to see you crushin' over a girl at all. Always acting smooth and gentlemanly, but it seems (Y/n)'s crawled deep under your skin and is makin' you a hot mess. Gotta give her a round of applause-she's officially broken Iggy."

Noctis snorted with laughter while Ignis looked away from his friends and stood up. He crossed his arms, staring out the window. He mentally accepts the fact he's fallen for the Horseman in such a short time, but he still refuses to wear those feelings on his sleeve. Deep down, he feared the moment he would have to tell her the contents of the nightmare that kept him from sleeping. Something was gnawing at the inside of his mind, telling him he would be risking his relationship with her if he told her.

"And we've lost him..." Gladio muttered to the young prince beside him.

"I don't think Specs was ever really listening," Noctis admits.

<------<<<<<<<

"Oh, (Y/n)!" The Horseman heard Iris gasp the second Erra vanished. "I'm so glad you're awake! I was really worried about you when Gladdy told me what happened. How're you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine," Pestilence smiled at her. "Where's Prompto?"

"He's busy shopping. You ready to head to Caem?"

"As I'll ever be. Hopefully, there won't be more distractions on the road ahead," the white-haired girl sighed.

"I'm with you on that one. No more detours! I promised Talcott we would be there by tomorrow."

"(Y/n)!" A voice shrieks. Both girls turned around and saw Prompto rushing toward them. He skidded to a halt just a few inches from them. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be up and walking around? You were really pale earlier."

The Horseman nodded. "I'm fine, Prompto. I feel terrible for delaying our trip to Caem, though."

"Hey, you saved us from that weirdo," the gunslinger rebuttals. "If you didn't do anything, I don't think me, Noct, Gladio, or Iggy would be still breathing."

Iris nodded in agreement. "Yeah! Gladdy said you guys were ambushed by those highwaymen on your way back and you saved their lives, (Y/n)."

"You both are too kind," Pestilence sighed.

"We're just tellin' you the facts," Prompto smiled gratefully at her.

The trio's attention was drawn to behind them when they heard Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis leaving the motel room. The Horseman glanced between the three boys with a refreshing smile. "Ready to depart?"

"Depends," Glaido said.

"How're you faring?" Ignis asked, composing himself long enough without imagining the proximity they shared only a few minutes ago and how mental of a mess she had made him.

"I'm alright. There's no cause for concern," she assures the boys.

"Tell that to Specs..." Noctis murmured only for him, his shield, and his advisor to hear. As usual, Ignis ignored the relentless teasing.

"I wouldn't wish to hinder this trip any longer. Shall we?" The Horseman gestured to the Regalia. They all nodded and departed from Old Lestallum.

A little ways down the road, Gladio leaned forward in his seat. "I coulda gone another round." He spared a glance toward (Y/n), who rode atop Erra beside the speeding car. "You were holding back. I could tell."

Pestilence glanced his way with a small shrug. "I do treasure life, but those who choose to harm others for selfish gains, I've no qualms snipping their lifeline in a heartbeat."

Prompto shuttered at hearing the dark undertone of her voice. "Well, uh...didn't expect to hear something so chilling from you. Never knew you had a dark side, (Y/n). You've only been smiles and giggles since we met you."

"Yes, well..." Her voice trailed off before returning after a brief pause and she muttered the last part to herself. "Those who smile and laugh the most are the ones hiding the most pain."

Unbeknownst to the Horseman, the blonde gunslinger had heard her clear as day. He decided not to comment regardless of what she truly meant by such sorrowful words.

"Given her prowess, you should be glad you didn't," Ignis stated, steering the conversation back to the woman they encountered in Fort Vaullerey.

Prompto nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that Loqi guy was nothing compared to her."

"Though we may not have fared so well without the marshal."

The freckled boy reclined back in his seat with a sigh. "Think things would've gone differently if he were here now?"

"She offered to play again. Maybe we'll get the chance to find out," Gladio said, recalling the mysterious woman's final words before vanishing. He looked at (Y/n) for a fraction of a second before staring at the open road ahead. "Better make sure you don't hold back next time, (Y/n)."

"No promises," she responds stoically.

Making no more detours, the group headed straight for Cape Caem.

<-------<<<<<<

As the royal retinue exits the other side of a long tunnel, a parking area comes into view. Gladio glanced around as Ignis pulled the vehicle over. "This the place?"

Iris nodded with an exuberant grin. "Sure is! Thanks for the lift, Ignis."

"My pleasure," the advisor replies, exiting the Regalia.

"Can't wait to see my buddy Talcott!" Prompto cheered.

(Y/n) dismounted Erra and the horse vanished within the blink of an eye. She followed the boys up the path to the lighthouse while Iris went on ahead. When the lighthouse came into view, Gladio whistled. "Whoa. Pretty impressive lighthouse."

"What say we head on up?" The photographer suggested.

"Ought to be a nice view, if a bit blustery," Ignis commented.

"Sounds quite lovely," (Y/n) smiled.

Further up the path, the group runs into Cindy. The Horseman has been told, courtesy of Prompto, who the young woman was and what she had done for the group since they left Insomnia. The busty blonde smiled and waved at them when she spotted them walking up the path.

"What's up?" Gladio greets with a playboy-ish grin.

"Knew it was y'all! Recognize the purr of that engine anywhere!" The mechanic chanted.

(Y/n) decided to part with the four and head to the house located not far from the lighthouse. The second her (e/c) eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones, she smiled. "(Y/n)!" Talcott shouted and ran over to her. He threw his arms around her waist and hugged her. "I'm so glad to see you again!"

Pestilence smirked down at the little boy and combed a hand through his hair in a soothing motion. "This place is quite windy with how close to the seaside we are. Mind helping me comb my unruly hair?"

The boy's eyes lit up as he nodded frantically. "I can help!" He unwound his arms and took her hand in his smaller one. He guided her into the house and up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms on the second floor.

Inside the small room, (Y/n) sat down on the bed once Talcott had released her hand. The little boy searched the small dresser located adjacent to the bed and found a hairbrush. He quickly grabbed it and hopped onto the bed behind the Horseman. Carefully, he began combing the girl's snowy locks.

"Y'know," Talcott started. "I have some really bad knots in my hair after I wake up. Iris usually helps me comb my hair in the morning if I'm having any problems."

"Bedhead is the worst," (Y/n) laughs. "One of my sisters has long red hair and you can't even imagine how difficult it is for her to tame such a mess. I usually am the one to provide aid in such a treacherous endeavor."

Talcott giggled, continuing to run the comb's soft bristle through the girl's hair. "I wish I had hair like yours. It's pretty and soft!" He didn't stop combing until they heard something fall in the room next door.

Confused as to what it was, (Y/n) wanted to check out the source of the loud 'clank.' "I'll be back shortly, Talcott."

The little boy nodded and placed the comb down.

<------<<<<<<

After discussing matters with Cindy, the royal retinue discovered they would need to hunt down mythril to get the late king's ship in working condition to transport them to Altissia. While searching for Talcott in order to learn where they could procure such a valuable material, Prompto had pulled them aside in one of the unoccupied rooms on the second floor.

Noctis sat on the edge of the bed as he glanced up at his best friend. "What's this about, Prompto?"

"I'm worried about (Y/n)," he confesses.

"And why's that?" Gladio questioned.

"Something she said on the way here really concerned me."

"Do tell," Ignis urges the younger boy to continue.

"Well..." He stared down at his hands. "She said, "Those who smile and laugh the most are the ones hiding the most pain." It's not like her to sound so...heartbroken."

Ignis' eyes widen after hearing the blonde's explanation. Gladio caught a glimpse of the bespectacled man's frightened and shocked expression, eyes narrowing. "Now you're acting strange. What's the deal?"

The strategist adjusted his glasses before clearing his throat. "I...may have an inkling as to her behavior."

"Then, what is it?" Noctis pried, wanting to learn more.

Ignis was torn between keeping the secret for (Y/n)'s sake, but at the same time, he wanted to tell the others so he could properly help deal with such horrid images burnt into his mind. He explained to them about the nightmare he'd been experiencing ever since Pestilence entrusted the summoning orb to him. He left out smaller details and decided to focus on what images haunted him the most-(Y/n)'s death.

Prompto gasped, stepping back and accidentally bumping into the dresser. A small ornamental statue fell off the dresser and onto the floor. "Y-You haven't told her yet?"

"What am I to tell?" Ignis seethed. "Images of her death haunt my sleep? Plummeting off a bridge while confined in a vehicle? A deranged stranger being the catalyst of it all?" When he managed to calm down, he looked around at his friends and saw they were no longer looking at him. Their gazes were focused on the door behind him.

"(Y/n)..." Noctis gulped.

[simpleb00x]

Can you do a dean x reader with “Flowers? No one has ever bought me flowers before.” Maybe something that starts as an unrequited love — like the reader thinks/knows dean would never want her more than anything as a friend (maybe she’s curvier?) but at some point there is a shift and maybe Dean starts seeing her differently then before? THANK U!

Flowers

Warnings: angst, fluff, language

Word Count: 1450

Requested by @polina-93

A/N: this is one of my longest fics. I know i know I don’t write very long ones. Anywas, I hope you enjoy because this was really fun to write and I’m quite proud of it!

-

-

“Hey Dean.” I said as Dean sauntered into the kitchen. He grumbled something in response before sitting down at the table and eating the bacon I had left out for him. “This is really good by the way.” He said after a while. I laughed. “Coffee kicked in?” I asked, leaning against the counter. He nodded, his big green eyes looking right into mine before he continued to eat his breakfast. God he’s adorable.

“Me and Sammy found a hunt.” Dean told me, washing the dishes. “Oh? What is it this time?” I asked. “We think it’s a vampire nest, but we’re really not sure. That’s why I need my brother and my best friend there to help, otherwise I could totally take them on myself” He teased. The word friend hit me like a blow to the chest. I knew he didn’t feel the same way about me like I felt about him. I was his friend. His best friend. I managed to choke out a laugh though. “Oh yeah. You could. And get turned in the process.” I teased back. “Whatever.” He said, rolling his eyes. I smiled to myself, and continued helping him clean the dishes.

“All ready to go?” Dean asked me as I hopped in the backseat. “Yup.” I replied, flicking through my phone. “Huh. I have a voicemail.” I muttered. No one ever called me except for the boys and a few old hunter friends. “What!? Y/n has a voicemail? Let me see this.” Dean joked, grabbing my phone. “Dean! Give that back come on…” I said, reaching into the front seat. “Is it a guy? Oh my god y/n is it a guy?” He continued. “You can be so fucking annoying sometimes Dean.” I hissed, still trying to grab the phone. Then, he pressed play on it.

“Hey y/n. It’s um - Max. You know, from the coffee shop? I was wondering if you were still interested.. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. And um - you’re just, you’re really pretty. I know I’ve been with a lot of girls in the past but damn girl you’re just so - hot. Maybe I have a thing for curves.. Anyways, just - give me a call back okay?” The phone let out a beep as the voicemail ended. Dean went quiet. “Oh. It was a guy ...” He muttered. “Yeah I.. I met him at a coffee shop when we were working that case in Ohio.” I said, finally taking my phone off Dean. He nodded and held onto the steering wheel. “Okay. Let’s go.” Sam said, hopping into the car. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Dean said quietly, starting up baby. I didn’t know what had made his mood change so suddenly. Was it the voicemail? Was he - was he jealous? No. He only thought of me as a friend. Nothing more. Right?

The drive was pretty silent until we reached the motel. I got my stuff as Dean checked in. There were two double beds, so I would have to share with one of the boys. It was usually Dean who slept in beside me. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward. It was late when we got there, so we weren’t going to work tonight. In the morning, bright and early, we would start researching and investigating. I couldn’t exactly say I was excited. “Wanna head down to the bar?” Dean suggested after a while. “Yeah. I need a drink.” Sam said. Dean looked surprised. “I’ll come as well.” I agreed. I waited for the ‘that’s what she said’ joke but Dean never said it. Weird.

We went downstairs to the busy bar. Sam found us a table in the corner of the room and got us three beers. “Hey y/n. A game of pool?” Dean asked. I nodded and he smiled. “I’ll totally win this time.” Dean told me. “Yeah yeah sure. I might let you win.” I said giving him a nudge in the ribs. “Oh it’s on sweetheart.” He said, grabbing a cue stick. I got butterflies in my stomach whenever he said that word. Sweetheart. It rolled off his tongue like it was the most casual thing in the world. Like it wasn’t making my head all fuzzy and my palms sweaty. I was like a lovesick teenager all over again.

“You beat me. Again. I swear it’s witchcraft.” Dean said after about twenty five minutes of us playing. The atmosphere of the bar made me competitive, and I was just after about three drinks. I was always known as a lightweight. “Wow. That was impressive.” A stranger said. He was about the same height as Dean and had black hair that was gelled to the side. He had piercing blue eyes and was in a suit. Clearly an office worker. I gave Dean a look but his attention was focused on the man. He was tensed up, jaw clenched and all.

“Yeah. My y/n is quite the pool player.” Dean said gruffly. “Your y/n? You guys together?” The stranger smirked, taking a sip out of a beer bottle. He looked wasted. “No not exactly. We’re friends.” I said. “Oh? So you wouldn’t mind if I-,” He took a few steps closer to me before Dean cut in front of me. “Listen. I came here with that girl tonight and I’m leaving with that girl tonight. So you better back the hell off okay?” He growled. I felt my cheeks go red with embarrassment. People were staring and whispering. The stranger didn’t seem to notice. He scoffed and leaned back. “Your funeral buddy. There’s way more skinnier chicks here that would gladly -,” He was cut off by Dean ramming his fist into the guys jaw. Knocking him backwards. “Dean!” I shouted, pawing at his arm. “Stop Dean. Stop.” I said.

“Yeah. You should listen to your girlfriend.” The guy muttered. Dean raised his fist again and the guy shrunk backwards. The owner of the bar came bursting through the staff door. “Hey! You two! Out!” He shouted, pointing a towel at me and Dean. “But I-,” Dean started. “Don’t. Come on let’s go.” I whispered. If I wasn’t embarrassed before, I sure was now. We had made such a scene in the bar, I just wanted to leave.

“Can you believe that son of a bitch? Saying all those things.. I should have ended him! Right there!” Dean was still angry when we got up to our room. I stayed quiet and just sat on my bed. Maybe the guy was right. There were so many skinny, pretty girls out there who wanted Dean. He’d be an idiot to pick me over them. “Y/n? You okay?” He said softly. I looked at him and nodded, he wasn’t mad anymore. I think the realisation of what he did and how stupid it was had just set in. “Shit y/n i’m sorry I didn’t mean to -,” I cut him off. “It’s fine. I’m just tired.” I muttered.

The next morning Dean was up early. Earlier than me or Sam. I had a terrible night's sleep, I shared the bed with Sam instead and he wasn’t as comfortable as Dean. When I went out to baby to start investigating, Dean was there, a massive bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Whats this?” I asked. Dean had a massive grin on his face as he held them out to me. “They’re for you.” He said. “As an apology for last night.” I looked at him in awe before taking them. “Flowers? No one has ever bought me flowers before.” I said. “Thank you Dean.” He grinned even larger. “Of course. But I ask one thing in return.” He said. I furrowed my brow. “What?” I asked.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, his hand cupping my cheek. I was still first. I couldn’t really process what was going on. But soon I found myself kissing back, dropping the flowers and resting my hands behind his neck. I broke away after a few seconds, staring into his eyes. “See? Now you really are my y/n.” He muttered. I smiled and he kissed my forehead. “You guys are gross. When are we leaving?” Sam asked from behind me. I leapt out of Dean’s arms and turned around. “I - um…” I stuttered. Dean chuckled. “You go ahead Sammy. I think me and y/n still have something to finish up in the room.” He said giving me a wink.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fallen Idols: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,721

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

If being at this place during the day was creepy enough, at night was a total nightmare. The figures seemed to be bigger than they were, and you could have sworn you saw Gandhi blink when you passed by him. Sam went to go fetch a metal trashcan to burn the items while Dean picked Lincoln’s top hat off the figure and placed it on his own head.

“Check it out,” he grinned before lowering his voice to imitate the president. “Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed as he held out his hand for the hat.

“We can't have any fun with this?” he scoffed before tossing the hat in the trash can.

“Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?”

“I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain,” Dean smiled before leaving the room through big double doors.

“Better go with him in case he tries to mess around,” you said as you patted Sam’s shoulder before you left. “Dean?”

“Over here,” he grinned as he stared at the replica of Little Bastard with James Dean next to it. He had the keychain in his hand, but he was staring at the wax figure.

“Don’t these creep you out?”

“You’re creeped out? This is awesome,” he chuckled.

“Come on, Sam is waiting for us,” you shook your head. 

Leaving his side, you were about to go back into the other room when the double doors slammed and locked on their own. Quickly glancing back at Dean, you rushed over to the doors and tried to open them.

“Dean? Y/N!” Sam exclaimed as he tried to open the doors. They wouldn’t budge for him and they wouldn’t budge for you either.

“Sam!” you yelled as you rammed your shoulder against the doors to see if that technique would work.

“You’re going to dislocate your shoulder before getting those doors open,” Dean said as he tried to pick the lock.

“No time. Move,” you instructed before blue magic shot from your hands like blue flames. Placing your hands on the door, you gave it a hard shove and they opened with ease.

“Next time start with that,” Dean commented as he rushed inside. Where the Gandhi figure was, Sam and a real-life Gandhi were on the floor with Gandhi’s arms around his neck.

“Is that Gandhi?” Dean gasped. “Dude, he's squirrelly.”

“Get the—” Gandhi elbowed Sam in the chest, momentarily winding him.

“Glasses!” you exclaimed as you snatched the glasses from the figure and tossed it into the trashcan while Dean poured salt and lighter fluid in it. 

As soon as he dropped the lighter in it, Gandhi disappeared in a black poof. Frowning, you rushed over to Sam to help him up.

“You couldn't have been a fan of someone cool?” Dean scoffed as his brother stared at him with his eyes narrowed. “Really? Gandhi?”

Since technically you torched the items, then you should be clear to leave town, but there has been something that was bugging you about the whole thing. Ghosts go up in flames and screams when they get torched, but not this one. This one just… vanished.

“Ready to blow this joint?” Dean asked his brother and his girlfriend.

“Dean, didn't it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just... vanished?” you asked as Sam came out of the bathroom with a frown on his face.

“Strange how?”

“No screaming, no big flame-out, I mean, that isn't the way ghosts usually go,” Sam answered for you.

“Still, I torched, he vanished.”

“I feel like he was...trying to take a bite out of me.”

“A bite?” you asked.

“Yeah, like he was hungry. But the thing is, Gandhi—the real Gandhi—he was a fruitarian.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dean laughed. “Your, uh, ultimate hero was not only a short man in diapers, but he was also a fruitarian?”

“That's not the point.”

“That is good. That is—even for you, that is good.”

“Look, I'm just saying, I'm not so sure this thing is over.”

“It was a ghost. It was a weirdly super-charged fruitarian ghost, but it was still a ghost. Now let's go,” Dean said as he picked up his bag.

“So first you drag me into town, and now you're dragging me back out.”

“You ain't steering this boat. Let's go, chop chop.”

“You know, this isn't gonna work,” Sam sighed as he set his toiletries bag down.

“What isn't?”

“Us. You, me, Y/N, together, I—I thought it could, but it can't.”

“You're the one that wanted back in, chief.”

“And you're the one who called me back in.”

“I still think we got some trust building to do,” Dean said while you silently packed your bag.

“How long am I gonna be on double-secret probation?”

“Till I say so.”

“Look. I know what I did and what I've done. I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook?”

“No. You can think whatever you want. I deserve it, and worse. Hell, you'll never punish me as much as I'm punishing myself, but the point is, if we're gonna be a team—you, Y/N, and I—it has to be a two-way street.”

“So, we just go back to the way we were before?”

“It didn’t really work that way before,” you sighed as you added your input.

“What does that mean?”

“How do you think we got here?” Sam asked. “One of the reasons I went off with Ruby... was to get away from you. It made me feel strong. Like I wasn't yours or Y/N’s kid brother.”

“Are you saying this is our fault?” Dean scoffed.

“No, it's my fault. All I'm saying is that, if we're gonna do this, we have to do it different, we can't just fall into the same rut.”

“What do you want us to do?” you asked as you joined Dean’s side and faced Sam.

“You two are gonna have to let me grow up, for starters.” Dean’s phone rang which cut the tension like a knife, and Dean answered it even if he wasn’t in the mood.

“Yeah?” he looked at you and Sam before looking away. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“What is it?” you asked once he hung up.

“I guess you two were right about this not being over.”

The Sheriff called Dean when another group came to report a missing person in the same way that Cal or even William was reported. Walking into the station, you immediately went over to Rick who seemed at a loss for words.

“Sheriff Carnegie? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he stuttered with a shake of his head. He indicated to an interview room where two young women were sitting and crying. Frowning, you walked over to the room with the brothers before entering it.

“Excuse me, ladies. We’re with the FBI. Can you tell us what happened?” you asked in a nice voice.

“It was horrible!”

“Way horrible.”

“What was?” Sam asked.

“I thought she'd be nice!” the first girl gasped.

“I still can't believe it.”

“Believe what?” Dean asked.

“She took Danielle!” the first girl exclaimed.

“Ladies take a deep breath and just tell us who took your friend. You’re safe in here,” you tried the soothing tone of voice for their sake.

“It was... Paris Hilton.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam gasped.

“Where did… Paris… take your friend?” you wondered.

“We don’t know. They just vanished!”

“Would you excuse us for just a minute?” Dean chuckled as he took you and Sam out of the room

“Paris Hilton's not dead as far as we know, right?”

“No, she isn’t. Which means it’s not a ghost. Either she’s a homicidal maniac or we missed something completely,” you sighed.

“What do you want to do?”

“I think we need to check out the victims.”

“Not it,” Dean said quickly before putting his finger on his nose. “Have fun with that.”

“Did you find anything in there?” you asked as Sam looked through Cal’s file.

“There was a substance in his stomach that they didn’t remove.”

“Are you going to go digging, or am I?” you asked as you snapped on some white latex gloves with a smile.

“Ladies first…?”

“Wimp,” you smirked as you grabbed the scalpel. Taking a deep breath, you started to cut the man’s chest so you could go digging for gold. “Don’t take Dean so seriously.”

“What?”

“He’s just… overwhelmed, I guess. Zachariah sent me and Dean five years into the future, and we saw some pretty terrible things. Just don’t say yes to Lucifer, okay? Whatever you do, don’t say yes,” you whispered as you stuck your hand inside his chest before feeling your way around.

“You find anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” you frowned before grasping the two small hard objects. Pulling them out, you stared at the seeds that were in his stomach. “Are these seeds? And there should have been a lot more blood here.”

“I think we need to check out William,” Sam declared.

“Alright, but it’s your turn to go into the deep, dark, abyss,” you smirked. After Sam had checked William out and found the same exact seed in his stomach, you two quickly bagged the items and left the place to meet Dean who was waiting outside.

“I can't believe we missed it,” Sam sighed.

“Missed what?” Dean asked as he stood up and started to head back to the Impala.

“We went back over the other two vics. There was blood loss. Major. More blood loss than a car crash or a GSW should cause.”

“It’s like something is feeding,” you finished.

“And then,” Sam took out the baggie with the seeds in it, “there were these.”

“What are those, seeds?”

“Yeah. They were in both vics' bellies.”

“I hope you two washed your hands,” Dean shuddered.

“They're unlike any seed I've ever seen before, Dean.”

“Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any geekier,” he chuckled before walking to the driver’s side of the car. Patting Sam on the shoulder, you got in the back so that more research could be done at the motel.

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