#shut up kathy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 14 days

Note

Ayo can we get a hot ass "keep my wife's name out your goddamn mouth" Kathy x John

Kathy does routine physical exams obviously and in the showers Price overhears some locker room talking about his wife, how they'd like those hands to go further, like how she bosses them around etc.

Cue him rounding the corner to give them a solid punch and "Don't you dare utter my wife's name again"

Up to you if she rewards him ☺️

yes you fucking can!!!!

That's My Wife!

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 1.5K~ cw: jealousy, protectiveness, arguments, violence, injuries (mentioned), misogyny, sexually-charged comments, "locker room talk", smutless smut.

The worst time of the year for the army medical staff at Tidworth is September. Oh, how the nurses and doctors hate the month of September during which, for two weeks straight, they see nothing but soldier after soldier for health checks and physical exams to confirm that they’re fit for service.

It’s, unfortunately, repetitive, mind-numbing and time-consuming. It’s also, unfortunately, a whole hands on deck situation. So, everyone who’s not actively doing something else, gets called in to help process the soldiers.

That’s how Kathleen ends up, every year, in the clinic, helping physicians assess the soldiers. Her jobs tend to be easy. More of the same that she tends to already do: measuring heights and weights, calculating their BMI and body fat percentages, using the stethoscope to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, manning the blood pressure gauge…

And, of course, the most interesting stuff. Conducting stress tests and having to strap all sorts of machines and sensors to the soldiers and monitor how they perform as they run on a treadmill, as well as doing physical checks on old injuries, scars…

In short, she spends a long time in front of shirtless men… and even longer touching their chests, arms, backs, and sometimes their legs, to check for injuries, which often ends with her crouching or kneeling at their feet.

And, of course, the stupid soldiers can’t keep their mouths shut. More often than not they make a few remarks about taking her out later, about coming to see her more often, of being lucky they get her for their checks…

It’s a nightmare. Kathleen hates it. In fact, she wishes she wasn’t tasked with that every year… But the choice is her or risking one of the pretty new interns having to do it, girls who haven’t yet developed the thick skin she has, and would likely giggle and get flustered at the lads behaviour… instead of calling them out on it or just downright ignoring them.

September, as it turns out, is also a nightmare for John. But he only figured that out today.

After his Bravo team finished training for the morning, John allowed them to hit the showers and he stayed behind to finish some work and talk with Soap.

As they enter the locker room, the rest of Bravo team is already in the communal showers, talking loudly amidst themselves and laughing, their voices echoing amidst the spraying of the showers over them.

John pops open his locker and starts shedding his workout kit, tossing it into his bag on the shelf. Soap isn’t far from him, a few lockers up, in the adjacent wall, his locker door having his name ‘MACTAVISH’ inside the clear plastic name tag holder, with a post-it naming him ‘F.N.G’ scotch taped below it.

John doesn’t need to pay much attention to know they’re talking about women, especially, the nurses from the nearby Tidworth base. All of them had gone through their check-ups in the last couple of days and, as is typical, they couldn’t keep their traps shut about the pretty women with soft hands doting all over them.

“Oh, mine bent over and pushed those tits of hers right up to my knee.” One of them said.

“Lucky bastard. I got a bloke.” Another replied.

Oh, how many times John had told them to be quiet and keep those sorts of talks to themselves when they were at the barracks, and not in public… But did those knobheads listen? No, never.

John grabbed his towel and 2-in-1 shampoo and bodywash and headed into the showers, taking up one of the vacant spots and drawing the curtain after hanging the curtain just outside his stall.

“I swear she was giving me the look… Definitely wants a piece of me.”

“No bird would want a piece of yer ugly mug.”

The lads continued talking as he let the water run over his body and began quickly lathering himself up with his 2-in-1, washing his hair and face aggressively before running his head under the falling shower water.

“I’m not devout, but this new batch’a nurses they got this year makes me a believer.”

“That’s right, brother.”

One-by-one they started vacating their stalls, still chatting loudly about their check-ups and the young women that treated them, lounging about the locker room and making each other laugh.

“But that arse of hers… I just know she’d bounce so well on my cock-”

“Oh that’s nothing. You didn’t see her last year before they changed the colour of the scrubs… That blue colour just… mmmmm…”

John finishes his shower not long after, wrapping his grey towel around his hip and tying it up to stay still. Then, he collects his 2-in-1 bottle from its perch atop the metal piping of the shower and starts making his way back.

That’s when he hears it:

“It’s no wonder the Captain’s peacockin’ himself around like that… I mean have you seen the size of her tits?”

John’s blood runs cold. They wouldn’t fucking dare. They wouldn’t talk about Kathleen.

No.

Not they.

Him.

Sergeant Ellis Evans.

One he’s always had problems reining in.

“Captain’s lucky is all I’ll say… Body like hers… Hell, even I’d forgive that bloody attitude of hers.”

The others laughed as Evans continued.

“I mean, I’m sure Kathleen’s mouth’s good for more than just talking… Gotta be good on her knees.. They call her ‘Brass’ for a reason, right? Bet she leaves ‘em with a nice polish and shine once she’s done.”

That did it.

John rounded the corner into the locker room and, abruptly, the room fell into silence, breaths hitching and the temperature dropping into an uncomfortable ice.

But John didn’t stop walking at the doorway… In fact, he beelined right for Evans.

“Captain, I-” Evans immediately tried backtracking. “We were just joking, we were just-”

“Keep my wife’s name out your bloody mouth.” John grits at him through clenched teeth before he throws a right cross to Evans’ face.

It’s just past 7P.M. when Kathleen comes in through the front door. John has made dinner for them and little Charlotte is already asleep in her crib by the time she does.

She sets her bag down in the entrance, takes off her shoes, and pads over to the kitchen in search of John.

“Hi…” She greets him softly as she approaches the table, causing him to swivel on his chair to greet her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She presses a kiss to his mouth, which he returns. “Hi, Da’lin’.” He murmurs to her once they separate.

“Is she down?” She asks in a soft tone as she looks at him.

“Mhm… Full belly and empty diaper.” He tells her, which makes her smile softly, seeming relieved.

Kathleen feels exhausted, as usual, still not used to the work-life balance that comes from having a 4-month-old baby who doesn’t like to sleep + and a physically demanding job that runs on a 12-hour-shift schedule.

John swivels back to his previous position, nursing a glass of whiskey with his left hand, the right one resting on the table, the knuckles covered by a blue gel ice pack.

“So that’s what happened...” Kathleen muses as she glances at his iced hand, before backing away to grab herself a plate of food from the cupboard.

“What is?” John murmurs as he glances at her, watching her serve herself of some frozen lasagna and salad.

“One of your lads ended up in my emergency room after some ‘roughhousing gone wrong in the locker room’... I was musing about what he did all afternoon.” She quips as she pads over to the table again again.

“Hm.” John mutters quietly, seemingly a mix of embarassed and annoyed at that fact.

“So what did he do?” She asks as she takes a seat on his lap, perched on his lap, as she pops a cherry tomato in her mouth.

“Talked about you.” John murmurs, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “Only I get to say debauching things about My Wife.” He grumbles as he looks up into her eyes.

Kathleen rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, but she can’t help the smirk that takes over her rudy lips as he calls her ‘his wife’. “My, Mr. Price, defending my honour, huh?” She jokes as she pops a bit of lettuce in her mouth.

“Defending my honour… and yours by proxy. Just an unforeseen consequence of it.” He tells her, trying to act nonchalant about the fact he broke a man’s nose, eyesocket and three of his ribs, for demeaning his wife.

“Right… Of course… How stupid of me…” Kathleen teases as she leans toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which makes his blue eyes close, a smile taking over his features.

“As opposed to… what exactly? There isn’t much up there other than thoughts of my cock, da’lin’.” John remarks, causing her to roll her eyes, annoyed, and flick his head away from her by pushing his cheek, annoyed.

“I can very well just stop thinking about it all together… And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that when I was just about to reward you for defending me…” Kathleen teases as she pops another cherry tomato in her mouth, eyes locked on John and the way his pupils dilated, his cock already stirring awake in his joggers against her ass in her green scrubs.

#ikea writes 💚#tw violence #tw misogyny #tw injury #cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #cod oc #oc: kathleen “brass” price #price x kathleen #john price x oc

105 notes · View notes

hooked-on-elvis · 3 months

Text

ELVIS' RESPECT FOR GOD

On one occasion in Elvis' suite, J.D. and The Stamps were gathered around the piano, singing "Sweet, Sweet Spirit", while the other visitors were noisily chattering away. Elvis became irritated, jumped up on a stool, waved his arms and hollered at everyone, "Shut up, goddamnit! They're singing about Jesus!" A hush fell over the room, and all you could hear was the sound of the lilting spiritual. "Y'all should be quiet," he whispered. "They're singing about Jesus … come on." Everyone was looking up sheepishly at Elvis, like he was Moses standing on Mt. Sinai. His choice of words struck me as incongruously hilarious, but I did realize that in his own way he was expressing his reverence for the Lord, and I admired him for this. Excerpt from "Elvis and Kathy" (1987) by Kathy Westmoreland

youtube

#elvis presley #jd sumner and the stamps quartet #kathy westmoreland #elvis #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #70s elvis #elvis on tour #gospel music #elvis library #elvis books #Youtube

44 notes · View notes

i-think-i-did-it-again · 7 months

Text

The Tour XII

Warning: swearing, drinking, smut, angst

You’re not sure if it’s out of annoyance or he genuinely wants to but as soon as Colson strides back into the green room, he suggests we all go out and get shit faced. Everyone jumps at the idea and begins discussing places to go, who to invite, what time to go. You listen to the hum of conversation around you, enjoying the fact that no one knows Colson was on his knees half an hour ago. The thought makes your pussy pulse and you cross your legs tightly. Ashleigh and Sophie begin planning outfits and deciding what to do for their makeup and hair. Sophie insists on glamming you up for the occasion as there will definitely be paparazzi and people in the club taking photos. You reluctantly agree and the three of you head back to the hotel to get ready.

“So how did you end up in my clothes after the concert tonight?” Sophie asks as she finishes curling your hair. You look at her face in the reflection of the mirror and instantly blush.

“I spilt something on my clothes,” you mutter, looking away from her to sip your homemade cocktail.

“I call bullshit,” Ashleigh calls from the bedroom behind you. As much as you hate their prying, you love that they both know you well enough to tell when you’re lying.

“Ok but swear to me that you won’t say anything, ok?” you beg with pleading eyes.

Ashleigh is suddenly in the bathroom beside Sophie when you turn on your chair to speak. You don’t really know where to start but you figure you should probably start from the beginning, considering neither of them know the full extent of what the fuck has been going on with Colson and you. You take a deep, steadying breath, square your shoulders and look up at your two best friends.

“Colson and I have been hooking up secretly since the start of the tour,” you don’t wait for them to react before quickly continuing. “When I asked that we put some rules in place, he was a dick, we stopped and I thought that was the end of it. Then he went and made it all confusing by being an asshole to Chase, storming into my hotel room when clearly we went in there to be alone. What made it even more confusing was the fact that he went and apologised for all his shitty behaviour.”

“Classic Kells, act first and think second,” Ashleigh shakes her head with a sigh. You couldn’t possibly agree with her more.

“Yeah well, I made it worse by accepting his apology because he seemed to believe that meant we could go back to hooking up but I shut him down.”

“And how did he take that?” Sophie gives you an all knowing smile and you sink back into your seat with shame.

“You saw how he took it. I ended up making out with him on the bus, remember?” they nod, remembering exactly what you’re talking about because they both walked in on said make out with Rook. “I just didn’t want to get sucked in anymore so I thought that if I forced him to leave me alone, things would go back to normal eventually but instead, I just made things worse.”

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself for this whole thing. Kells is just as much involved as you are except he knows how to put on an act. The fact that he’s choosing not to is more a reflection on him than it is on you,” Ashleigh reassures you but somehow you can’t seem to see things the way she does. Your sole purpose for being here is to keep him in check and you’re failing miserably, according to Francis and Kathy anyway.

You stand up and push your way past them to the clothes Sophie has laid out on the bed for you. It’s not your usual style but you know you have to trust the process when it comes to her choices. Most of the time what she picks out works in your favour but you have to push through the initial shock to see it. This time is no exception.

Laid on the bed is a tight fitting black long sleeve top with a turtleneck, a faux leather skirt with a silver zipper running up the front and black satin thigh high boots. If anyone else suggested this outfit to you, you’d laugh in their face but for some reason when Sophie does, you go with it without question. Still, you grimace internally at the short length of the skirt.

“You still didn’t answer my question though,” Sophie sits you on the bed to start on fixing your makeup now that your hair is done.

“I forgot what the question was,” you lie and you know you don’t fool either of them. Sophie raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow at you and you buckle. “I got wet when I stepped into Colson’s shower and he…ate me out.” you blush a bright red and focus on looking anywhere but at the two of them.

“You are a fucking queen,” Sophie praises you and Ashleigh cheers.

“To a fucking queen!” Ash toasts, raising her solo cup in the air and throwing the entire contents back in one gulp.

They drop the topic after that. You’re not sure if it’s because they sense your discomfort or because they want to maintain your privacy or both but you’re grateful. As much as you love your best friends, you’ve never really been the kiss and tell kind of person, especially when you’re not even really sure what to classify Colson and you at the moment. It feels wrong to be sharing every gory detail, even if they are his friends too.

When your makeup is done, you’ve almost finished an entire bottle of wine and you’ve put the intimidating outfit on, it’s time to meet the guys in the lobby. Ashleigh snaps a few pics of the three of you in the elevator for Instagram and you’re actually really starting to like how the outfit looks on you. When you step into the lobby and all the guys catcall you, you like the outfit even more.

You look around and notice that Colson is missing but Rook assures the group that he’s on his way down. When the elevator dings and Colson steps out, your heart stutters in your chest. Even though you’re trying so hard to be indifferent to him, you can’t help but be flawed every time you see him. His bleach blonde hair, his angular jaw and sharp cheekbones, the way his eyes flicker different shades depending on the lighting of the room, his pink lips always set in a slight pout, the way his nose ring catches in the light. The thing that stands out to you the most though, is his intimidating height. When he walks into a room, everyone knows it because he stands at least a foot taller than most people. There’s something about his tall stature that makes you want to forget your inhibitions and climb him like a tree.

“Let’s fucking party,” he grins at the guys and begins walking through the lobby.

You try your best to stand off to the side and out of his line of sight but Sophie and Ashleigh link their arms with you and drag you with them, making damn sure they get his attention in the process. You can’t help but enjoy the way his eyes bulge slightly as he takes you in. You also like the way you notice him adjusting his dick uncomfortably without drawing any attention to what he’s doing but you know.

There’s a couple of black vans waiting for you all outside. Sophie, Asleigh and you all pile into one of the vans, letting the guys work out who is going in each one. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach when Colson climbs into the same van as you but they tamper down when he pushes his way to the back, away from you. Ashleigh doesn’t allow you to dwell on it for too long, dragging you into a conversation about the club.

Why the fuck is she dressed like that?

Colson’s already pent up frustration is at a boiling point as he studies your smooth thigh from the back of the van. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you left him high and hard after the concert, now you have to go teasing him with your curves, breasts on full display in your tight top and sexy legs all exposed in your short skirt. Not to mention those boots. He’d pay a lot of money to have you in his room in just those boots. Rook is so invested in what he’s saying that he doesn’t even notice you’ve barely said a word and you’re grateful. This is going to be a long fucking night.

Colson peels his eyes away from you when the van comes to a stop and he can finally free himself. The smell of your perfume is filling his senses and it’s intoxicating enough that he’s not sure he can control himself. When he steps out of the van, he’s immediately greeted by the flash of cameras. A couple of bouncers from the club push their way through and escort you past the paparazzi. Colson has to resist the urge to turn around and make sure you’re ok. He knows that Rook will be standing on one side of you to protect you from the bodies trying to push their way towards you all, holding you to his side.

Lucky bastard.

When you all get into the club a manager with too much cologne and greasy hair directs everyone straight to a VIP section in the back. It sits on a raised platform that gives just enough leverage to see the dancefloor but not so much that it looks like a stage for everyone to gawk at. The lighting is slightly darker in the space, creating shadows in the corners of the couches for privacy. Colson immediately orders a shit ton of drinks, wanting to make sure he’s completely numb so he doesn’t think about you. Easier said than done if you weren’t three feet from him and looking like sex on legs.

When did I start fucking pining?

This was completely new territory for him. He was used to having women throw themselves at him so when you came along and said ‘thanks but no thanks’ it flipped everything upside down for him and he didn’t like it. He was always in control, he didn’t like giving that up for anybody. For you though, maybe he could make an exception.

You loved this club! The music was a mix of all your favourite artists and the DJ didn’t feel the need to constantly interrupt the tracks but talking over the lyrics with dumb catchphrases or shit singing. The dance floor was crowded but not suffocating and there didn’t appear to be many creepy men trying to grind up on unsuspecting women. Colson had ordered several rounds of shots and you were buzzed. You dragged Sophie to the dancefloor and you were so busy enjoying yourself, you barely even felt the pain in your feet from the heels. You’re sure the alcohol probably helped with that.

You were surprised that even the guys decided to join you all on the dance floor but it was entertaining watching Rook and Colson dance some ridiculous ‘routine’ they’d obviously come up with years ago. They adjusted the tempo to each song but the moves were still the same. A lot more shimming than you’re used to seeing two grown men do but entertaining nonetheless.

When an RnB track begins and the beat slows, your own dance moves change. You go from jumping around to grinding and swaying your hips to the beat. You don’t resist when Colson moves closer to you, you like feeling his chest against your arm. You let the music take you. You turn your body so that you’re facing him, winding an arm behind his neck. He presses himself to you and you can feel his arousal through his tight pants. You both sway to the music, his hands on your hips determining your movements. You turn so your ass is right against his crotch. You grind so hard against him, you’re practically dry humping him in the middle of the club. His face is buried in your neck and you can feel the vibration every time he moans.

You’re enjoying yourself way too much but as quickly as it begins, the song changes and a boppy pop song begins to play. You pull yourself away from Colson and return to dancing with Ashleigh and Sophie, Baze and Slim exchange a look but you ignore that. Colson’s glare is so intense, you’re pretty sure he’s plotting your death but you couldn’t care less.

You’re drunk enough that you’re happy but not so drunk you’re going to be sick. It’s a fun balance that you’re not mad about. When you stumble into the silent lobby with Rook, the two of you are in such loud fits of laughter that the night manager shushes you from behind the desk. You giggle an apology to him and all the others scold the two of you. Colson trails behind the group like a sad puppy but you don’t really notice.

You make it to your floor and everyone piles out, mumbling good nights to each other as you each stop at your respective doors.

You’re the last one in the hallway because you’re searching through your clutch for your room key with one eye closed, at least you think you’re alone. Colson grips your wrist and drags you into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“What do I have to do to get you to let me fuck you?!” he growls angrily and you stumble back from the volume of his voice.

“I…” you start but you don’t really know how to end the sentence so you stop to think for a moment. An idea dawns on you and you grin evilly. “Beg,” you whisper seductively.

“W-what?” Colson is staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You heard me, I want you to beg for me to fuck you, right here, right now.”

You’re practically purring in his ear now. Your tongue flicks his earlobe every now again for emphasis. You can tell it’s bringing him to his knees as he sways again. Sweet, innocent you commanding devilish him to beg for your affections? Unheard of.

“Please baby, I need you,” he whines and you smile against his neck.

“What do you need?” you kiss his jawline.

“Your…dripping wet pussy on my throbbing cock while you scream my name.”

You didn’t expect something so dirty to come out of his mouth and you can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks. You’d think after reading so many dirty novels that you could control your reactions but you know that there is a huge difference between reading a fictional character and actually listening to a living, breathing guy saying it. Especially when it’s a guy like Colson and especially when he’s saying those things about you.

“Demanding thing aren’t you?” you tease him with a tight smile.

If he knew how much you were throbbing for him, your control would be revoked and you’d be putty in his hands. You trail your fingertips down his chest and he watches the path they lead to the hem of his t-shirt. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was panting with anticipation. You want to tease him but the aching between your legs is begging you to stop being so damn cruel to her. When you lift his top and scrape your nails over his ‘Almost Famous’ tattoo, he all but falls to his knees in front of you.

“Please?” Colson whispers against the shell of your ear and you know exactly what he wants.

You cup his growing erection in the palm of your hand and gently rub against his jeans. He lets out a shuddering breath and throws his head back, resting himself against the door. You watch as he all but crumbles in front of you. A mixture of pleasure and relief plastered across his face but then anguish. You pull your hand back and cup it against your chest protectively.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” you mutter and step away from him, he follows you though.

“No, please don’t stop,” he’s begging you again but this time, you’re not enjoying it.

Your vagina is cursing you out but you tune her out. Every time you try to get some distance between you and Colson, he follows. You end up jumping across the bed so that he can’t follow you. You hold up your hand to halt him and even in the dim light from the lamp, you can see the hurt in his eyes. You know you’re being cruel and confusing but you can’t help it. You have questions you need answered and half drunk and horny Colson is the only one that will give them to you.

“What is this?” you wave a hand between the two of you and he groans.

“Why do you women need everything defined?” he scrubs his hands over his face and sits on the floor with a huff. “Just enjoy the goddamn moment and be grateful.”

“Grateful for you? I don’t fucking think so.” for the second time tonight, Colson looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Who’d be grateful for a selfish, moody, cruel man like you? One minute you’re warm and gentle and the next you’re giving everyone that ‘fuck off’ attitude you’ve perfected and not talking to anyone for days. You’ve made Ashleigh’s life a living hell over the last few months and you could care less,” he winces but you’re not finished. “One of your oldest friends in the world and all you’ve done is be an asshole to her for no good reason.”

“Fuck you! Just because you don’t know the reason, doesn’t mean it’s not a good one,” he spits at you and you step back like he’s pushed you.

“Ok, fine then. What’s the perfectly justified reason for why you’ve been such an asshole to everyone? Why have you been drinking, screwing and snorting your way to an early grave no matter who it hurts?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!” he screams and jumps to his feet.

You’ve seen Colson get mad, hell you’ve seen him in fights with actual punches and blood, but this mad is so different. He practically morphes into a new person before your eyes and it terrifies you. You try to not show it but you can tell by the way he tries to calm himself that he notices your fear.

“I…I never thought I’d be the guy whose happiness depends on another person but when she left, I couldn’t shut the voices up.”

By ‘she’, you can only assume he’s referring to his ex fiance Megan who left him for her ex-husband and to be honest, he’d made it seem like the whole thing didn’t bother him. No one was stupid enough to believe him but given that he pretty much jumped back into single life and didn’t start acting out until 12 months after their break up, everyone assumed the two were unrelated. You should’ve known better and you feel guilty that you didn’t.

“I thought you didn’t care,” you whisper but then you smack yourself for saying something so dumb.

“To be honest, I didn’t. We hadn’t been happy for a long time and I was relieved when she ended things. The anxiety started when I asked myself one question ‘why wasn’t she happy with me?’ and then ‘what’s wrong with me?’. It just played on some already pretty strong insecurities.”

It made sense. You’d gone through enough break ups to know that even if it’s the most amicable break up in the history of break ups, you always end up asking yourself those exact same questions and sometimes the unknown will eat you up inside. You have this uncontrollable thought that you’re the problem, that one particular thing you did, what it was you’ll never know, pushed that person to stop loving you. Makes them realise you’re not right for them, not good enough for them, not desirable enough for them. If you don’t have strong-will and a little bit of self-confidence and esteem, the thoughts become all consuming and you never open yourself up to anyone ever again.

“There were other issues that already existed so I’m not blaming everything on that but I thought if I pushed people away, I could at least minimise the damage.”

“What were the other things?” you ask before you can stop yourself and judging by the look on his face, you don’t want to know the answer.

“You,” he whispers and your breath stills.

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

Tag list:

@mgklove99xx

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #mgk x y/n #machine gun kelly smut #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly angst

74 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 2 years

Text

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Prequel (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: There was no way you could have seen it coming…right? Or four instances where you could have noticed Elvis blurring the boundaries of personal and professional.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request, and as of right now will be the last thing I plan to write for The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, because there’s other requests and series I’d like to focus on writing. I appreciate everyone’s support for the series, and hope you all like it! Please consider the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this fic. Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, obsessive and manipulative behavior, and abuse of power, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mentions of drug abuse. Kathy makes a brief appearance and I know y’all do not like her so I guess I’m including her as a warning. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Graceland, 1968

Being Elvis Presley’s personal assistant hardly felt like a job, if you were being honest with yourself. Something was always happening, and you never found yourself bored even in your downtime with all of the friends and relatives rotating in and out of Graceland at all hours of the day. It seemed like every day you were introduced to someone new—a friend of a friend from high school, an old army buddy, a cousin from Priscilla’s side of the family. You were having so much fun being part of such a chaotic new world that you almost forgot you were being paid until Vernon handed you your first paycheck, almost triple what you’d been making at NBC.

You were still getting the hang of being part of Elvis’ entourage, but you must have been doing something right, because he entrusted you with more tasks and responsibilities as the weeks progressed. Since you’d quit your job at NBC almost as soon as Elvis asked you to work for him, you needed to prove to your skeptical friends and former colleagues that you made the right decision by choosing the King of Rock n’ Roll over one of the biggest television studios in the country. The special wouldn’t be released for another few months, but you knew it’d shut them all up once they saw for themselves what Elvis could do.

Whenever he’d ask for your opinions on his reinventing his career, you still felt a bit of shock that he even bothered to ask, much less seriously take your opinion into account. It helped that whenever Priscilla was around, you and her seemed to agree on a lot of things. There weren’t many women in Elvis’ entourage, so you and her became fast friends, which meant hanging out poolside or having her do your makeup and bring you up to speed on the decade or so of inner circle gossip you hadn’t been aware of. Naturally, your friendship with Priscilla made you feel that much more guilty over the crush on Elvis you’d developed since filming the Comeback Special.

A few weeks into the job, Elvis had asked you to meet him in the living room, where he seemed to do most of his business. People always filtered in and out of the room, but it never seemed to phase him. As the two of you sat on the couch, your gaze landed on the mock-ups of his new private plane the ‘Lisa Marie’ and his plans for his upcoming world tour. That day, however, Priscilla had brought Lisa over to her parents’ place to visit.

“You likin’ things here, Y/N?” Elvis asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yes! This is the best job I could have hoped for,” you said.

“You’re not just sayin’ that, are ya? I know things can be crazy around here if you’re not used to it.”

“I promise I’m happy,” you said, waving your hand toward the mock-ups. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

“A worldwide tour,” Elvis whispered, almost to himself. “You know, I’ve never toured outside the country before.”

“I’ve ever left the country either,” you said. “I’ve already applied for my passport. I’m so excited.”

“Y/N, where do you want to go?” Elvis asked. “Anywhere in the world, where do you think I should play?”

“I think Japan would be fun,” you answered.

He gave you a big smile. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I know the tour schedule might be tight, but I’d love to be able to do some sightseeing in Tokyo,” you said. “You know, your fan club there is one of the biggest in the world. You should try to meet with them, or the fan club president, at least.”

“Yeah, I get a lot of letters from over there,” he said. “You’re right; it’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t be anything without my fans believing in me. Sometimes I still can’t believe how much people like my music, or liked, I guess.”

“Once your special airs, you’re all anyone will be able to talk about,” you said. “Especially when you announce your international tour.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I know I can trust you to be honest with me.”

“Always,” you promised.

He had another meeting to plan his international tour later on in the afternoon, while you were stuck on the phone stalling with the people from Singer Sewing who were still on Elvis’ back about the special. You’d gotten good at coming up with reasons and excuses for why he couldn’t come to the phone, and no, you wouldn’t be accepting anything from their lawyers. It frustrated you, because the Colonel should be the one taking care of it, but it seemed like Elvis was trying to distance himself from his manager, which meant everyone trying to figure out who’d pick up which responsibilities in the meantime.

The meeting had long since ended by the time you hung up on probably the sixth person from Singer who you’d spoken to. Wandering into the living room, you looked over the notes that had been posted on the touring mock-up board. There was one for each country he planned to hold a show in, Germany, Italy, Brazil, Australia, but you looked most carefully at the one for Japan, which had more written on it than the others. ‘JAPAN - per EP: 3 days minimum, Tokyo show, meet fanclub, sightseeing (?)’

“Did I get it all, darlin’?” Elvis asked, startling you as you hadn’t realized he’d come in.

You turned to him. “I like the question mark next to sightseeing.”

“No questions about it; I’ll be sure we go somewhere nice in Japan.”

“We?” you asked, trying not to let your excitement show.

“Well, if you don’t mind an old man taggin’ along,” he teased.

You laughed. “Old man? You’re not old.”

“C’mon, Y/N, I’d have gray hairs by now if I didn’t dye it,” he said.

“I think you’d look good gray,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

He smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help how your face heated up at this, bashfully averting your eyes from him. He carefully lifted your head so that you were looking at him again, and you could have sworn he would have kissed you, if not for the front door opening, and little Lisa Marie toddling in. You quickly shifted to the other end of the couch before Priscilla could walk in. Priscilla. Elvis was your boss, and at the very most you were friends, but he wouldn’t do anything like that with his wife around, and certainly not with you of all people, you reasoned to yourself, determined to shake off whatever crush you had on him.

Las Vegas, 1969

Somehow, the Colonel had convinced Elvis to postpone his world tour and take up a temporary residency at the newly built International Hotel in Las Vegas. After the six-weeks of shows, you all would finally be off to see the world. Still, the International was a gorgeous hotel, and you were thrilled when Elvis informed you everyone would be getting their own rooms for the duration of the residency, and to not worry about using room service or any amenities. Sure, the first few nights you went a little wild in the casino and ordered steak and lobster up to your room, but after that, everyone seemed to settle down and focus on bringing the upcoming show together.

All things considered, you figured it made sense for Elvis to test his new show for smaller audiences before bringing it to larger stadiums abroad, especially since the International was covering everything. He could afford to make changes and go as big as he wanted. Electricity was in the air, and you couldn’t get enough of it. The sky wasn’t even the limit with the newly minted ‘Lisa Marie’ ready to fly.

Elvis had asked you to join him in the showroom, as he looked over the stage again and spoke to some of the people who’d be working on the technical aspects of the show. There wasn’t much for you to do, so you wandered around the opulent auditorium, taking in your surroundings. It was the perfect place for Elvis to perform, and with how much Elvis had been talking up the new ideas he had for his show, you couldn’t wait to see it.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” an unfamiliar voice said, as you reached the back of the showroom.

You turned around to look at the man, “Yeah, it’s the biggest on the Strip, right?”

“That’s what they say,” he nodded. “I’m Jake, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You gonna be in the show, or?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’m just Elvis’ assistant.”

“You work with Elvis?” Jake asked incredulously.

“Is that surprising?” you wondered aloud.

He grinned. “I just figured a woman pretty as you would be one of the showgirls or something.”

You giggled at the compliment. It’d been a long time since you’d been flirted with, spending so much time with Elvis’ inner circle and all. Jake’s attention definitely wasn’t unwelcome. He was handsome, with blond hair and eyes that were blue—or were they green? You weren’t close enough to tell. He wore a t-shirt that was definitely a size too small on purpose, because his muscles looked like they were straining against the thin fabric.

“What do you do around here?” you asked.

“Stage lights,” he answered. “I used to bartend at this other hotel, but I got roped doing lights one night when there was no one to fill in for one of my coworkers and–”

Elvis shouted your name, his voice echoing through the showroom. “Y/N!”

“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” you said.

“Don’t want to keep the king waiting,” Jake said, a playful grin on his face. “Why don’t you meet me at the bar later? Say, nine?”

“Nine is perfect,” you smiled.

Elvis yelled for you again, louder this time. You rushed down the stairs to the stage, where he was standing with his hands on his hips. He was frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he glared in the direction where you had run over from.

When you approached him, he shook his head, clicking his tongue at you. “I don’t pay you to play heart-eyes with stagehands, Y/N.”

Taken aback, you stammered out a response, “I–he just came over to me and–”

“And nothin’!” he snapped. “Both of you should be workin’. I shouldn’t have to call for you twice, especially at a time like this.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry,” you said.

You were trying not to let it get to you, but Elvis had never been angry with you before. It was the worst feeling you’d ever experienced, a pit forming in your stomach at being the subject of his ire. He’d done so much for you, and now, at a pivotal moment in his career, you were letting yourself get caught up with a stagehand you barely know who said a few flirty things to you. Your eyes stung, and you were sure if he scolded you more, you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears.

He stared at you silently for a few moments, his hands clenched into fists before he sighed, his expression softening. “I need you more than ever, darlin’. Just try to stay focused, okay?”

You nodded, your voice cracking a bit as you whispered, “Okay.”

Despite Elvis’ best attempts to reassure you throughout the day, you still felt guilty. People kept stopping you to ask if you were okay, and you were embarrassed that you let the small altercation affect you so much. Even when Elvis dismissed you early for the day, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through with meeting Jake at the bar that night. He’d probably hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than Elvis.

Instead, you called it an early night, waking up far too early the next morning by Vegas standards, but you couldn’t fall back asleep as much as you tried. Feeling cooped up in the luxurious hotel room you were calling home for the time being, you decided to get ready for the day and hang out in the hotel restaurant for a few hours. You grabbed a few fashion magazines and made your way down to the first floor of the hotel. The restaurant was practically empty, and you didn’t have to wait long for your breakfast to be done.

About an hour later, the restaurant started filling up more, and you noticed Jerry walk in. You waved at him, and he walked over to your table, taking the seat across from you.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?” he asked.

“I’m alright,” you answered. “How about you?

“Good, I got all that shit with Jake taken care of. What a sick motherfucker.”

“Huh?”

“EP told me all about it, why you were so upset yesterday. I got it worked out with the hotel manager. You won’t have to worry about him anymore,” he said before scoffing. “It’s like these places will hire anyone nowadays.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, despite not having a clue as to what he was talking about. Jake seemed nice, but from your brief encounter with him, you didn’t really know much, but he certainly hadn’t made you upset. You supposed if Elvis found out something bad enough about Jake to have to go to the International’s manager about him, you were better off not worrying about the situation. Besides, like Elvis said, you had your job to focus on, with opening night only a few weeks away.

Denver, 1970

The US tour was busier than you could’ve expected, and you didn’t even want to imagine what the world tour would look like in comparison. It did trouble you that the tour dates were so close together. Elvis didn’t have time to rest and relied on Dr. Nick to shoot him up with whatever he had in his bag to get him to sleep. You knew the Colonel recommended Dr. Nick, but you didn’t trust how he seemed to prescribe Elvis all sorts of pills and potions without a second thought. Besides, what kind of doctor only went by their first name anyway?

Regardless, the American leg of the tour was well-received so far, and you were spending more time with Elvis than ever despite the chaotic schedule. You had been especially excited for the Denver show, since your sister Kathy lived in Boulder. When you mentioned it, Elvis didn’t hesitate to offer you two tickets to the show and the night off to catch up with her before jet-setting to the next city.

You were looking forward to seeing Kathy again, even if it would only be for a few hours. The two of you were close growing up, and though you’d drifted apart as you went to college and settled down in different states, you kept in touch as much as you could. You took a cab from the airport to the restaurant in Denver that Kathy wanted to go to, and practically ran over to her when you saw her waiting outside.

As soon as the two of you were seated, she went ahead and ordered a bottle of wine, and you knew you’d be in for a whirlwind of a dinner.

“So, what’s he like?” Kathy asked, wiggling her eyebrows as soon as the waiter left.

“Who, Elvis? I’ve already told you, he’s nice and funny, and he always seems to care about what I have to say.”

“Not that, I mean in bed.”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why would I know that?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t made a move?” she asked. “From what I’ve heard he fucks anything with a—“

“He’s my boss, Kathy. I don’t think of him like that,” you lied. “It’d be inappropriate, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that to Priscilla even if I were interested.”

“Seriously? Y/N, when you said you dropped your job at NBC like two years ago I figured it was because you and him were sleeping together, and he wanted to keep you around. I mean, why else would you have done it?”

“Because I believe in him, and he’s a good friend, and—what kind of person do you think I am?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” she conceded, clearly displeased with your answer.

The rest of the night was nice, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort at what Kathy had said at dinner. You’d made it clear you were Elvis’ personal assistant, but if your own sister assumed you were just there to scratch his itch whenever his wife wasn’t around, you didn’t want to consider what everyone outside of the Memphis Mafia and the backing band and singers thought of you.

The schedule was far too busy for Kathy to meet Elvis, which you were previously apologetic about but had become glad for. You and Elvis were close, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to give you hugs or kiss you on the cheek. He was just a sweet guy, not afraid to be affectionate with the people he cared about; it was something that you loved about him. After shows he would run off with girls sometimes, but he always went out of his way to see you beforehand, just to talk and ironically check on you. The last thing you wanted was for Kathy to misinterpret that.

You and Kathy parted ways after the show, and you half-heartedly promised to call her when you got back to Memphis and fill her in on how the rest of the tour went. You had to book it backstage to catch up with everyone and not miss the plane to the next city. A security guard didn’t seem to believe your all-access pass was authentic, and you found yourself arguing with him.

“Can you just go back there and get someone? They all know me,” you said in exasperation. “I have my pass. I don’t know what else you need.”

“That Colonel guy said people might try to get back here with fake passes.”

“Mine is real!”

The security guard didn’t answer. You felt like you were slamming your head against a brick wall. Even if you did make it outside in time to catch up with everyone making their way to the cars, you weren’t sure you’d be let through now. Just as you were about to try arguing again, one of the doors opened, and Jerry walked out, looking surprised to see you.

“What’re you doing out here? EP keeps asking for you,” Jerry said.

You glared at the security guard, who was emotionless at the confirmation that you weren’t lying after all. Following Jerry backstage, you waited for the door to completely shut behind you.

“He thought my pass was fake,” you said.

“It looks like everyone else’s.”

“Not to him, apparently. He said the Colonel told him that people might make fake passes to get to Elvis.”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “The Colonel’s got some nerve talking about fake paperwork.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it right now, Y/N. Like I said, Elvis has been looking for you,” he said, pointing to where Elvis was standing backstage.

You walked over, and he engulfed you in a sweaty hug.

“Y/N, I’m never lettin’ you take a night off again. Every time I didn’t see you there I felt like my head fell off.”

“I don’t think I’ll need another one for a while.”

“How’d things go with your sister?”

Before you could answer, everyone was being ushered out of the building to the cars that were waiting out back. You ended up in a different car from Elvis, which gave you time to think on the way to the airport, but you knew that it wouldn’t be a long conversation, since Dr. Nick usually gave Elvis whatever medication to help him sleep within ten minutes of him stepping onto the plane.

You followed Elvis to the back of the plane, where you sat across from him. You didn’t want to talk about Kathy or what she said, it would be humiliating. As soon as he sat down, though, he picked the conversation up right where it had left off backstage.

“Alright, Y/N, how’d it go? Y’all catch up? She like the show?” Elvis asked.

“Yeah, she loved it,” you said. “She thought it was amazing.”

“Well that’s good, but you suddenly don’t seem so excited.”

“I just—she said some things that made it seem like I gave her the wrong impression of our relationship. I’m just worried other people might get the wrong idea too,” you confessed.

“Darlin’, you and me both know we ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. You’re one of the only people I really trust anymore,” he said, placing his hand over yours. “Maybe you should be careful who you talk to from now on. People outside of our circle, they don’t understand what this life is like.”

You smiled. “You’re right. I don’t know why I let her get to me.”

Dr. Nick walked over, and you nearly failed to hide your disdain as he opened his medicine bag. “Wonderful show as usual, Mr. Presley.”

You couldn’t stand to look, let alone be around, when Dr. Nick would inject Elvis with whatever poison he’d chosen for the night. You didn’t know how to bring it up to Elvis, though, but you knew it would catch up with him eventually. Sitting toward the front of the plane, you chewed on your nail, waiting for Dr. Nick to finish up giving Elvis his ‘prescription.’ When the so-called doctor emerged from the back of the plane, you wasted no time in returning to where you had been sitting before to check on Elvis.

“Y/N,” Elvis muttered drowsily, “you’re back.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Of course I am.”

He hummed. “You mean everything to me. Y/N, I–”

He passed out before he could finish his sentiment, and you took his hand in yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it sleeping, did he even dream when he was in that state? Was he lucid enough to feel or hear? You would drive yourself crazy thinking about it, but you mostly didn’t want to admit that you loved Elvis too much to keep seeing him like that, but you couldn’t leave, it’d be the opposite of helping him to abandon him when it seemed like no one else was looking out for him. If no one else was willing to take up the responsibility, you supposed you could handle it.

Graceland, 1971

After Elvis’ second national tour, you took a week off to visit home and see your family. You called home as much as you could, but it was tough to get anyone on the line when your schedule was so unusual. Having a full week with them would give you the time to catch up on all of the details of working for Elvis that they could never seem to get enough of, and also spend quality time with you, which happened less and less as the years went by.

The longer you stayed there, the less it felt like home. You hadn’t realized you’d replaced memories of your childhood home with those of Graceland, confused when your house didn’t behave the way the bustling mansion did, from the building itself to the people. Even your childhood bedroom was unfamiliar compared to your room at Graceland or even the International. You were almost relieved when your vacation was cut short on the fourth day by a call at three in the morning that you could hardly understand.

“Y/N, darlin’, you need to come back, please,” Elvis sobbed over the phone.

“Elvis, please slow down and explain to me what happened,” you said gently.

“‘Cilla left me, took Lisa with her and I–I need you right now. I’m sorry but please come home.”

Home.

“I’ll take the first flight out in the morning,” you promised.

“Call me as soon as you know which one so I can send the car for you.”

“I will.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but when you heard him sobbing again, the line cut out. Sighing, you began to pack your bags, to the chagrin of your parents who had not only been woken up in the middle of the night but also losing three days of seeing you. You gave them apologetic hugs and promises to come back soon before leaving for the airport to try to figure out how soon you could get to Memphis. The stewardess informed you there was a flight to Memphis at seven in the morning with seats available.

“Hey,” you said.

“Y/N, when are you gonna be here?” he asked.

“There’s a flight at seven I can take, so I’ll be there before noon.”

“Noon, I’ll see you by noon,” he repeated.

Your flight seemed to take forever, and you were sure the flight attendants wanted to throw you out of the emergency door for how often you asked what time it was and how much longer until you landed. The sun shined strong on Memphis when you walked out of the airport and to the car that was waiting outside for you. Drab city streets blurred past you into greener suburbs and finally to the estate that was Graceland.

As the car pulled up to the curb, you practically tumbled out the door as you rushed into the mansion. The curtains were open, the only source of any light in the place. It was chillingly empty, almost feeling like you’d arrived too early to a funeral.

Taking in a deep breath, you called out, “Elvis? It’s Y/N!”

The response you received was a loud sob which echoed through the nearly vacant house. You ran upstairs, and opened his bedroom door, only to find it empty.

“I’m in here,” he croaked out.

You saw him on the other end of the hall, standing in the doorway of his parents’ room. Walking over to him, you felt your heart break at how pathetic he looked–hair unkempt, face red, tear tracks dried on his cheeks. As soon as you were within arms’ reach, he grabbed you for a hug, crying into your shoulder.

“She’s gone. She don’t love me anymore.”

“Elvis, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, stroking his hair.

“Did you know?”

“No,” you answered honestly.

He stared at you, where you looked and how you spoke when you answered. He was trying to see if you were lying or not. Oh, that’s why the house is empty.

“Will you stay with me, Y/N?” he asked. “I know I made you leave your folks’ place early and you probably hate me, but I can’t be alone right now.”

“I could never hate you,” you whispered. “I’ll be here as long as you need.”

He seemed to take what you said to heart, because he settled down enough to sleep not long after that. You felt strange, watching him sleep in his parents’ bed. When you shifted to try to get up, he stirred, and you definitely didn’t want to wake him when he was clearly so exhausted. Through the night, he clung to you, and you woke up entangled with him.

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere elvis

634 notes · View notes

layce2015 · 7 months

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Changing Channels

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

Dean and I were sitting on the bed of our motel, watching Dr. Sexy, MD. Both of us pretty into it as Dr Palmer and Dr Piccolo enter an elevator then they start making out as the doors shut.

"What are you guys watching?" Sam asked us. "Hospital show. Dr. Sexy, MD. I think it's based on a book." Dean replied. "It is." I said. "When did you hit menopause?" Sam asked Dean. "Her fault." Dean said, pointing at me. Sam looks over at me with a questioning look. "Hey, you complained until the sex scenes began." I said and Sam gives an understanding nod.

“Well, that explains why he’s into it. But I’m a little surprise that you are, (y/n). Just doesn’t seem like your type of show.” Sam said. “Everyone’s got a poison. Nothing wrong with some junk food entertainment every once in a while.” I said and Sam shrugs. “Fair enough.” He said, with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t call this junk food. Remember the two part season finale?” Dean asked me, giving me a knowing and suggestive look. “Dean, that finale was basically just porn. It had like three separate sex scenes in them.” I said. “Was still good finale.” Dean muttered as he got up and turned off the TV. I shook my head at him and stood up as well.

Sam grabs his suit jacket off the other bed and puts it on. "You guys ready?" Dean asked us. "Are you?" Sam asked and Dean grabs his keys and walks out.

"One more time, the FBI is here why, exactly?" The officer asked us. "Might have something to do with one of your locals getting his head ripped off." I said. "Bill Randolph died from a bear attack." the officer said, firmly. "How sure are you that it was a bear?" Sam asked him.

"What else would it be?" the officer asked. "Well, whatever it was it chased Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashed through his front door followed him up the stairs, and killed him in his bedroom." Dean said and the officer looks between us.

"Is that common, a bear doing all that?" I asked him, suspiciously. "Depends how pissed off it is, I guess. Look, the Randolphs live way up in high country. You got trout runs to make a grown man weep. And bears." the officer said. "Right. Now, what about Mrs. Randolph? The file says she saw the whole thing." Sam said. "Yes, she did. My heart goes out to that poor woman." the officer said.

"She said bear." Dean said, questioning. "Kathy Randolph went through a hell of a trauma. She's confused." the officer said, defensively. "What did she say?" I asked.

Later, the boys and I were sitting at a table with Kathy Randolph. "No, it must have been a bear. I mean, what else could it have been?" Kathy said, obviously unsure. "Mrs. Randolph, what do you think it was?" Sam asked her.

"No, I, I remember clearly now. It was definitely a bear." Kathy said, shaking her head. "We're sure it was. But see, it helps us to hear every angle. So just tell us what you thought you saw." Dean said. "It's impossible, but...I could have sworn I saw...the Incredible Hulk." Kathy said which is the last thing I expected her to say.

"The Incredible Hulk." I said, confused. "I told you it was crazy." Kathy said. "Bana or Norton?" Dean asked. "Oh, no, those movies were terrible. The TV Hulk." Kathy said. "Lou Ferrigno." I said and she nods. "Yes." she said. "Spiky-hair Lou Ferrigno." I specified. "Yes." she said and I hum at this then I exchange a look between the boys.

"You think I'm crazy." Kathy said, disappointed. "No. Uh, no, it's just...is there, uh, would there be any reason that Lou Ferrigno, the Incredible Hulk, would have a grudge against your husband?" Dean asked. "No." she said. "No." Dean repeated.

Back at the motel, Dean and I were looking on our laptops when Sam comes in. "Hey." Sam said as we look up at him. "Find anything?" Dean asked him. "Well, uh, I saw the house." Sam said. "And?" Dean and I asked.

"And there is a giant eight-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be. Almost like, uh—" Sam trails off. "A Hulk-sized hole." I said. "Maybe. What do you two got?" Sam asked us. "Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper. He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry." Dean said and I chuckle.

"So a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?" Sam asked and Dean snorts. "It's all starting to make sense." Sam said.

"How is it starting to make sense?" I asked him. "Well, I found something else at the crime scene." Sam said and he pulls a handful of candy wrappers out of his pocket. "Candy wrappers." he said and he drops them. "Lots of them." Sam adds.

"Just desserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill 'em—we're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?" Dean asked I groan. "Sure looks like it." Sam said. "Good. I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot." Dean said. "You sure?" I asked him. "Yeah I'm sure." Dean said.

"No, I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?" I asked him. "Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times." Dean said and I sigh. "No, I know, I mean, I'm just saying—" I started to say. "What are you saying? If you don't want to kill him, then what?" Dean asked me. "Talk to him?" I suggested.

"What?" Dean asked me, disbelieving. "Think about it, Dean. He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him." I said. "For what?" Dean asked. "She has a point, Dean. The Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song—maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us." Sam said and I nod. "Exactly." I said and Dean looks between us.

"You guys are serious." He said. "Yeah." Sam and I said, in unison. "Ally with the Trickster." Dean said. "Yeah." Sam and I said. "A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, guys." Dean said, sarcastically. "The world is gonna end, Dean. We don't have the luxury of a moral stand. Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him." Sam said and Dean sighs.

"How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?" Dean asked. "Well, he never takes just one victim, right? He'll show." I said

"Um, Dispatch? I, I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on Route 6?" A voice said in the police scanner as Dean and I sharpen a couple of wooden stakes. "Hey." Sam said to us and we stop working and focus on the scanner. "Roger that. What are you looking at there, son?" Dispatch asked him. "Honestly, Walt, I, I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just—send everybody." the guy said. "All right, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way." Dispatch said and Sam turns off the scanner.

"That sounds weird." Dean points out. "Weird enough to be our guy." Sam said and we get up and go.

We pull up to the warehouse and get out of the Impala. Strangely, there was no one else in sight. "There was a murder here, and there's no police cars. There's nobody. How's that look to you boys?" I asked them. "Crappy." Sam said and Dean goes to the trunk and pulls out three stakes and three flashlights, handing each one to me and Sam.

Then he closes the trunk and we begin to enter the building, I take the lead. But there was nothing inside just a normal looking abandoned warehouse. "Well...this is disappointing." I said and I turn around, only to see that I was alone.

"Dean? Sam?" I called out as I look around, my heart beating against my chest. "Boys?" I called out again as I couldn't find them. "Guys, this isn't funny!" I yelled as I go to the front door and go outside and look around to also see the Impala gone. "What the hell?" I muttered, confused and fearfully, and I look around myself. "SAM!? DEAN!?" I call out in a panic.

*3rd Person POV*

Sam and Dean, both wearing white lab coats, walk out into a white hallway. They look around and at each other and themselves. "What the hell?" Dean asked. "Where's (y/n)?" He asked as a blonde doctor and an asian doctor made, Dr Wang, pass by them.

"Doctor." The blonde doctor greets Sam and Dean. "Doctor." Dr Wang greeted them. "Doctor?" Sam said, confused, while Dean opens the door they just entered through. It leads to a janitor's closet where a man and a woman are making out.

Dean closes the door, looking freaked, while a brunette doctor, who bears a remarkable resemblance to Dr Piccolo from Dr. Sexy, MD, turns away from the receptionist's desk and approaches Sam and Dean.

"Doctor." She said then she slaps Sam. "Ow!" Sam exclaimed in pain. "Seriously." the brunette growled. "What?" Sam asked her. "Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward." The woman said, dramatically.

"Um. What are you talking about?" Sam asked and she slaps him again. "As if you don't know!" She shouts then she stalks off. "I don't believe this." Dean mutters as he stares at the brunette, in awe. "What?" Sam asked, annoyed. "That's Dr. Piccolo." Dean said.

"Who?" Sam asked. "Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy yet earnest doctor at—" Dean starts to explain then he looks at the sign behind the receptionist's desk and gestures at it angrily, reading it aloud. "Seattle Mercy Hospital." he said.

"Dean. What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked him. "The doctor getups. The, the sexy interns. The seriously's. It all makes sense." Dean said. "What makes sense? What's going on?" Sam asked, angrily. "We're in Dr. Sexy, MD." Dean states.

Minutes later, the brothers walk through the hospital corridors. "Dude, what the hell." Dean said. "I don't know." Sam said. "No, seriously, what the hell." Dean said, a bit panicked. "I don't know." Sam exclaims. "One theory. Any theory." Dean said. "Uh, the Trickster trapped us in TV Land." Sam said.

"That's your theory. That's stupid." Dean grumbles. "You're the one who said we're on Dr. Sexy, MD." Sam said. "Yeah, but TV land isn't TV Land. I mean, there's actors and, and lights and crew members, you know. This looks real." Dean said. "It can't be. Dean, how can this possibly be real?" Sam asked. "I don't know." Dean said, shrugging, as Dr Wang walks past.

"Doctors." She greets as she walks on. "There goes Dr. Wang. The sexy but arrogant heart surgeon." Dean said as he watches her go down the corridor and sees her pass a man sitting on a gurney. "And there's Johnny Drake. Oh, he's not even alive, he's a ghost in the mind of—" Dean said just as another brunette doctor enters, sitting next to Johnny. "Of her. The sexy yet neurotic doctor over there." Dean finished.

"So...this show has ghosts? Why?" Sam asked him. "I don't know. It is compelling." Dean said. "I thought you said you weren't a fan." Sam said, suspiciously. "I'm not. I'm not. It's (y/n) that's the fan." Dean said. "Speaking of (y/n), where is she? Why didn't the Trickster trapped her here with us?" Sam asked. "No idea. But she'd be freaking out if she saw this." Dean said then he sees something and just stares.

"Oh boy." Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked him.

"It's him." Dean said.

"Who?" Sam asked as Dr Palmer comes down the corridor. "It's him, it's Dr. Sexy." Dean said and Dr Palmer stops next to Sam and Dean then looks at Dean. "Doctor." he greets and Dean looks down, hiding his smile. "Doctor." he said then Dr Palmer addresses Sam. "Doctor." Dr Palmer said and Sam nods then Dean whacks him. "Doctor." Sam said, through gritted teeth.

Then Dr Palmer addresses Dean "You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?" he asked and Dean's expression goes from awed through confused. He glances at Sam, then back. "One reason?" he asked and Dr Palmer nods. "Sure." Dean said then he looks down then noticed something.

Dr Palmer is wearing white tennis shoes. Dean slams him against the wall. "You're not Dr. Sexy." he growls. "You're crazy." Dr Palmer said. "Really? Because I swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy sexy is the fact that he wears cowboy boots. Not tennis shoes." Dean yelled and Sam scoffs a laugh. "Yeah. You're not a fan." he said, sarcastically. "It's a guilty pleasure." Dean yells at Sam.

"Call security." Palmer said to the others. "Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are." Dean said as Dr Wang, the Blonde Doctor and a security guard are all approaching. But then they and the extras freeze-frame.

Dean glances around, only he, Sam and Dr Palmer are still moving. Dr Palmer grins and morphs into the Trickster. "You guys are getting better!" he laughs. "Get us the hell out of here." Dean growls. "Or what?" the Trickster asked before he grabs Dean’s arm and twists, hurting him. "Don't say you have wooden stakes, big guy." he said.

"That was you on the police scanner, right? This is a trick." Sam said. "Hello? Trickster. Come on! I heard you two yahoos and the girl were in town. How could I resist?" Trickster said. "Where the hell are we? And what have you done to (y/n)?" Dean asked him, angrily.

"Like it? It's all homemade. My own sets—" the Trickster said as he raps on the window in a nearby door, then indicates the frozen extras. "My own actors...call it my own little idiot box." he said, smirking. "As for your pretty little girlfriend, don't worry, she's fine and safe. I had my fun with her back in Mystery Spot. But now I want to have fun with you two." The Trickster said, mischievously.

"How do we get out?" Dean asked him. "That, my friend, is the sixty-four-dollar question." Trickster replied. "Whatever. We just, we need to talk to you. We need your help." Sam said. "Hm, let me guess. You three muttonheads broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess." the Trickster said. "Please. Just five minutes. Hear us out." Sam pleads. "Sure. Tell you what. Survive the next twenty-four hours, we'll talk." said the Trickster.

"Survive what?" Dean asked.

"The game!" the Trickster said, as if it was obvious.

"What game?" Dean asked.

"You're in it." said the Trickster.

"How do we play?" Dean asked.

"You're playing it." Trickster said.

"What are the rules?" Dean asked and the Trickster raises his eyebrows, grins, and vanishes in a burst of static. The extras unpause. "Oh, son of a bitch." Dean mutters, annoyed.

"Dr. Sexy? Dr. Sexy?" the blonde doctor calls out as she walks past. Sam and Dean continue down the corridor after her. "Paging Dr. Sexy. Report to the ER." the voice over the intercom said. "Oh, by the way. Talking with monsters? Hell of a plan." Dean said to Sam, sarcastically.

"Just, what do we do now?" Sam asked. "You know what I'm doing? Leaving." Dean said as Dr Piccolo appears and takes another swing at Sam, who ducks. "Lady, what the hell?" Sam asked, annoyed.

"You are a brilliant, brilliant—"

"Yeah. A coward. You already said that. But I got news for you. I am not a doctor." Sam said, interrupting her. "Don't say that. You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met, and I have met plenty. So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes people just die." Piccolo said as Sam furrows his brow. "I have no idea what you're saying to me." He said to her.

"You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again. And you're afraid to love." Piccolo said and she leaves, sobbing. "Yeah, we're getting out of here." Sam said and he and Dean go to leave until a voice calls out to them. "Hey. Doctor."

Dean stops and turns to a man walking to them. "Yeah." he said. "My wife needs that face transplant." the man said. "Okay. You know what, pal? None of this is real, and your wife doesn't need jack squat. Okay?" Dean said and he and Sam keep walking.

"Hey, Doctor." The man, Mr Biehl, shouts then he raises a gun and shoots Dean in the back. Dean stares after him, then goes to his knees. "Real—it's real—" Dean groans as Sma kneels down to him. "No no no, no no no no no—hey! We need a doctor!" Sam shouts as he looks around frantically.

Later, Dean was facedown on an operating table, staring through the headrest at several pairs of white tennis shoes. Dr Wang passes an operating instrument to another doctor.

Sam is dressed in operating scrubs, as is everyone else in the room, Piccolo watches through glass. Sam holds something absorbent against Dean's injury with a pair of tweezers. He hands the tweezers to another doctor and presses an already bloodstained cloth to the injury.

"BP is eighty over fifty and dropping." the blonde doctor said. "Doctor." Dr Wang said as she holds out a scalpel but Sam doesn't take it. "What?" Sam asked as the two doctors exchange glances.

"Sam. Do something. Come on." Dean growls and Sam leans over and speaks in an undertone. "I don't know how to use any of this crap." he said. "Figure it out." Dean said and Sam grins awkwardly at the other doctors but doesn't do anything. "Sam. Come on. I'm waiting." Dean said, impatiently.

"Okay. Um. I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey." Sam said and the other doctors look at him and each other. "Stat!" Sam shouts and they start moving.

Sam, eventually, got to work on the wound, after he was giving the things he needed, as he uses all of the things he uses. Then he snips off the extra floss from Dean's stitches. "We okay? How's it looking?" Dean asked him. "Yep. You'll be fine." Sam assures him.

Sam looks up and catches sight of Piccolo, who mouths I love you and sighs, smiling.

The shoes leave Dean's field of vision. The lighting and texture shift, and the light starts to flash in time with clapping and shouts and screams. The floor has become two doors, which slide apart.

Behind the doors is blue-lit smoke and a Japanese man comes out of the doors and forward between two Japanese women and Dean and Sam, both of whom are wearing more usual outfits. The Japanese man says something in Japanese then shouts. "Let's play Nutcracker!" The crowd cheers and applauds.

Dean looks around: he is standing in shoes glued to a platform that has a slot for a pole with a large ball at the end. Sam is similarly situated. To one side is an LED screen that says "20".

The hosr says something in Japanese and pulls cards out of his jacket. Silence falls. "Sam Winchester." he said and he continues to talk in Japanese.

What was the name of the demon you chose over your own brother and best friend?

"Countdown." he said in English while Sam looks at him, confused. "What?" he asked as the screen begins to tick down the seconds. "Uh, what am I supposed to say?" Sam asked Dean. "You think I know?" Dean exclaimed then Sam addresses the host.

"Uh, I, I don't, I don't understand Japanese." Sam said and the host repeats the question in Japanese.

What was the name of the demon you chose over your own brother and best friend?

"Is he screwing with me? I, I, I can't speak Japanese." Sam yells then the screen hits "0" and a buzz sounds out. The host said in Japanese.

The answer is...

"Ruby!" The host said in English while the crowd repeats the answer then he turns to Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam Winchester." he said. "Sorry? Sir? For what?" Sam asked and the host mimes hiding laughter. "Dean?" Sam asked, panicked, just as the pole on Sam's platform comes up so that the ball whacks Sam in the crotch. Dean is horrified as the crowd cheers. "Nutcracker!" the host shouts as the scene of Sam getting hit in the crotch replays from several angles. The Japanese caption flashes.

"Nutcracker!" The host shouts again.

"Sam?" Dean asked his younger brother, who makes an inarticulate noise. One of the Japanese women says something in Japanese. The host goes over to her and she shows off a bag of chips.

Have we discussed these nutritious Shrimp Chips? Lots of nutrition, tastes great...and the more one eats, the slimmer they get, just like you. Please buy them.

"You okay?" Dean asked Sam, who just looks at him. Dean looks at Sam's platform, then at his own, and cringes. The light on the doors starts flashing again. "Oh now what?" Dean asked, exasperated.

The doors open to reveal (y/n), the crowd cheers. "There you are!" (Y/n) said, relieved, as she looks between the boys. "(Y/n)?" Dean said. "Is this another trick?" Sam asked and she shakes her head. "It's me. Uh, what are you doing here?" she asked as she looks around the game show set.

"Us? What are you doing here?" Dean asked her. "Looking for you two, duh. You've been missing for days. I got Cas to help me." (Y/n) said. "So get us the hell out of here, then!" Sam shouts and (y/n) nods. "Let's go. And I'll call Cas." She said and she raises her arms to reach out for the boys hands but then she vanishes in a burst of static.

"(Y/n)?" Dean asked, worried, as Sam's eyes widen. Then the host comes back to center stage. "No, no, no, no. Mr. Trickster does not like pretty-human girl." The host said then he pulls out another card and speaks in Japanese. "You son of a bitch, you better have not hurt her!" Dean shouts, angrily, to the sky, hoping the Trickster had heard him.

"Dean Winchester." he said then he speaks in Japanese.

Would your Mother and Father still be alive...if your brother was never born?

"Countdown." He said in English and the screen begins to tick down the seconds from "20". "What do I do, what do I do?" Dean asked, panicked. "What?" Sam said. "I don't wanna get hit in the nuts." Dean said, quickly. "I don't know, I, I, uh, just, uh—wait." Sam said. "What?" Dean asked. "I played a doctor." Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked, confused. "In, uh, in Dr. Sexy I played a doctor. I operated." Sam said. "So?" Dean said. "So I played the role the Trickster wanted me to play. Maybe we should just go along with it." Sam said. "Go along with what?" Dean asked. "With the game! You know, we're on a game show, right? So just answer the question!" Sam shouts.

"In Japanese?" Dean asked. "Yeah!" Sam said. "I don't know Japanese!" Dean shouts. "Try!" Sam yells. "Dammit!" Dean growls and he hits the button and the countdown freezes just before the buzz.

Dean says something in Japanese.

The answer is...yes?

The host repeats the last few syllables and so does Dean. The host shouts something in Japanese and Dean braces himself. "Dean Winchester, Nutcracker champion!" the host yells in English and the crowd cheers.

"How did you do that?" Sam asked Dean. "I have no idea." Dean said, shrugging. "So that's it. We play our roles, we survive." Sam said. "Yeah, but play our roles for how long?" Dean asked. "Good question." Sam said and Dean forces a grin and waves.

A woman does a yoga pose then said. "I've got genital herpes."

An old man sits on a couch. "I've got genital herpes." he said.

Four men are playing basketball, one makes a basket. This one turns around; it's Sam, looking very uncomfortable. "Seriously?" Sam asked, exasperated. "Hey, you're the one who said play our roles." Dean said as he walks up to Sam. "Yeah. Right." Sam grumbles and Dean claps him on the shoulder and goes back to the game.

"I've got genital herpes." Sam said.

The woman sits in another yoga pose. "I try to be responsible." she said.

The old man looks over at another woman. "Did I try." he said.

"But now I take twice-daily Herpexia to reduce my chances of passing it on." Sam said, still looking uncomfortable.

"Ask your doctor about using Herpexia." the yoga woman said and she does other yoga poses while the old man slow-dances with his wife.

Patients should always consult with a physician before using Herpexia. Possible side effects include headache, diarrhea, permanent erectile dysfunction, thoughts of suicide, and nausea.

"I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the spread of—of genital herpes. And that's a good thing." Sam said, uncomfortable, then he goes back to the game, feeling relieved to not go through that again. The Herpexia logo appears.

Dean puts some things in a refrigerator, closes the fridge, and turns around. Applause sounds out as Dean looks at a sandwich on the table, about a foot tall, a laptop next to the sandwich. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth." Dean said as a laugh track starts. Then Sam enters the room and there was another Applause.

"Hey there, Sam. What's happening?" Dean asked him. "Oh, nothing. Um. Just the end of the world." Sam said and the laugh track comes on. Sam sees the sandwich. "You're gonna need a bigger mouth." he said and the laugh track kicks on again.

"Hey, uh, have you done your research yet?" Sam asked Dean and Dean gets a busted expression, making the laugh track come on. "Oh, yeah. All kinds of research. All night." Dean said. "Yeah? Hm." Sam said, not believing, when porno music comes through the laptop.

"Oh, yes! Yes! Harder, baby, harder!" A woman said as the music continues, a mixture of laughs and oooh's sounds out. Sam looks at the laptop then at Dean before folding his arms. "Dean..." Sam said, disapproving, and another laugh track. "Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaims, in a exaggerated disappointed voice, and the laugh track comes on again.

Sam shuts the laptop and shakes his head. "How long do we have to keep doing this?" Dean asked Sam, speaking through his forced smile. "I don't know." Sam said as applause happens. "Maybe forever? We might die in here." Sam said as the laugh track comes on again.

"How was that funny? Vultures." Dean said, annoyed, as the laugh track continues. The door opens and it's Castiel and (y/n), who has minor injuries. "(Y/n)! Cas!" Dean said as there was applause. "You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked (y/n), who nods.

"We don't have much time." Castiel said. "What happened?" Sam asked, gesturing to the injuries (y/n) had. "Cas helped me get out." (Y/n) said. "From where?" Dean asked her but before she could reply Cas speaks over. "Listen to me. Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be." Castiel said.

"What thing—the Trickster?" Dean asked. "If it is a trickster." Castiel said. "What do you mean?" Sam asked but then Cas and (y/n) are flung backwards into the wall, they're face hidden.

The Trickster appears at the door. "Hello!" he greets to applause and cheers. Castiel and (y/n) get up; their mouths had been duct-taped shut. "Thank you. Thank you, ladies." The Trickster said while Cas and (y/n) glares at him. "Hi, Castiel! (y/n)!" Trickster greets and he gestures at the duo, then Cas and (y/n) vanish in a burst of static.

"You know him?" Sam asked The Trickster. "Where did you just send them?" Dean asked, angrily. "Relax, they'll live. ...Maybe." the Trickster said and the laugh track comes on. "All right, you know what? I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it." Dean yells. "Yeah? Get what, hotshot?" the Trickster asked him. "Playing our roles, right? That's your game?" Dean said. "That's half the game." the Trickster scoffs.

"What's the other half?" Sam asked. "Play your roles out there." the Trickster said, as he gestures ahead. "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked. "Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play your roles." The Trickster replied.

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam asked, shocked. "Hells yeah. Let's light this candle!" the Trickster exclaims, excitedly. "We do that, the world will end." Sam points out. "Yeah? And whose fault is that? Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hm? Look, it's started. You started it. It can't be stopped. So let's get it over with!" the Trickster said as Sam glares.

"Heaven or hell, which side you on?" Dean asked the Trickster. "I'm not on either side." he replied. "Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?" Dean asked and the Trickster starts to get angry. "You listen to me, you arrogant dick. I don't work for either of those S.O.B.s. Believe me." he growls and Dean scoffs out q laugh. "Oh, you're somebody's bitch." he said and the Trickster's smile vanishes. He grabs Dean by the collar and slams him into the wall.

"Don't you ever, ever presume to know what I am. Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you." Trickster said. "And if we don't?" Sam asked and Trickster grins. "Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever. Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on." The Trickster said then he snaps his fingers.

A man lies on the ground with a stomach wound, crime-scene markers surround him and cameras flash. Dean and Sam are standing outside the crime-scene tape, watching the various extras work. They turn around; they're wearing suits with matching blue shirts and sunglasses.

"Oh, come on." Dean growls, annoyed, as an officer ducks under the crime scene tape. "So, what do you think?" the officer asked Dean. "What do I think? I think go screw yourself, that's what I think." Dean yells, angrily, and Sam gives him a look of concern.

"Uh, could you give us a sec, please? Thanks." Sam said to the officer, who nods and turns away. "You gotta calm down." Sam said to Dean after he turns to him. "Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses at night." Dean yells as he yanks them off. "You know who does that? No-talent douchebags." Dean said and Sam nods in agreement.

"I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show and you wanna know why? Because I hate procedural cop shows. There's like three hundred of them on television and they're all the freaking same. It's ooh, plane crashed here—oh shut up." Dean rants as Sam notices something at the crime scene and takes off his sunglasses.

"Hey." Sam said. "What?" Dean roars. "Check out sweet tooth over there." Sam said as he points to an officer sucking on a lollipop. "Think that's him?" Dean asked Sam. "Just, um, follow my lead." Sam said and he goes over to the body and Dean follows.

They both put on their sunglasses as the crime-scene tape is raised to let them under. "You, uh, you okay?" the officer asked Dean. "Yeah. What do we got?" Dean asked and the officer kneels next to the body. "Well, aside from the ligature marks around his neck, he has what appears to be a roll of quarters jammed down his throat." the officer explains as Dean takes off his sunglasses, gets out a flashlight, and takes a closer look. Sam also takes off his sunglasses.

"Well I say, jackpot." Sam said, putting his sunglasses back on, while the Officer looks up at him, snorting in amusement. "Also, there is a stab wound to the lower abdomen." The officer said as he indicates the bloodstain with his lollipop. Dean grabs a stick and pokes at the hole in the shirt with it, getting blood on the stick, then puts his sunglasses back on.

"Well I say, no guts, no glory." Dean said and the officer laughs. "Get that guy a Tums." Sam said. "Gutter ball." said Dean as the officer keeps laughing. "Good one, guys." he said as Dean comes around behind him with the stick. The officef turns toward Dean, who stabs him with it.

The officef collapses, struggling to breathe. None of the extras notice or care except another officer, who starts laughing and morphs into the Trickster. "You've got the wrong guy, idiots." the Trickster taunts. "Did we?" Dean asked and Sam stakes the Trickster from behind. He falls over in a burst of static. Dean and Sam are back in the clothes they were wearing when they entered the warehouse, the Trickster laying down with the stake through his chest.

Dean, in a bathroom of a room, finishes brushing his teeth and spits. "I'm worried, man. What that SOB did to Cas and (y/n). You know, where they are?" Dean asked but there was no response. "Sam?" Dean asked but the room is empty.

"Where are you?" Dean asked and he walks outside and towards the Impala. He pulls his phone out and up to his ear. "It's Sam. Leave me a message." Sam's voice-mail said and Dean gets in the car. "Sam. It's me. Where the hell did you go?" Dean asked and he snaps the phone shut.

"Dean?" Sam asked, which his voice sounds a bit odd. Dean looks around but doesn't see Sam. "Sam? Where are you?" Dean asked. "I don't know." Sam said then Dean notices a red light on the dashboard, it flashes in time with Sam's words. "Oh crap. I don't think we killed the Trickster." Sam said.

The Impala has acquired red flashing lights under the front grille as well, the Knight Rider theme plays. Dean drives. "Okay, stake didn't work. So, what, this is another trick?" Dean asked. "I don't know. Maybe the stake didn't work because it's not a trickster?" Sam suggested.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked then there was a noise next to him. He looks over and sees Ariel next to him. "Ariel?! What the hell?" Dean said, confused. "I'm glad I found you. Where's Sam?" Ariel asked. "Here." Sam's voice said and Ariel looks around. "I'm the car." Sam said and Ariel looks at the dashboard.

"Oh, goodness." She said. "What are you doing here?" Dean asked. "I hadn't heard from Castiel and (y/n) in hours. They told me they were trying to save you two but I got worried when I didn't hear from them." Ariel replied. "Well, this Trickster, or whatever he is, banished them somewhere, I don't know..." Dean said.

"Cas said this thing was too powerful to be a trickster." Sam said. "And the way he looked at Cas, it was almost like he knew him." Dean said as Ariel looks at Dean then gets a thoughtful look. "And how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer." Sam said and Ariel sighs.

"You two are not going up against a Trickster." She said. "What?" the boy said. "I know what you two are dealing with. Or more precise, who you're dealing with." Ariel said as they continue down the road. “You mind enlightening us?” Dean asked and Ariel looks sad for a moment. “My brother, Gabriel.” She said. “The archangel?” Sam asked. “Yes.” Ariel replied.

“How many of you are there?” Dean asked. “Only five. Myself, Gabriel, Micheal, Lucifer, and Raphael.” Ariel said. “Well, that explains why he’s been such a pain in the ass this whole time. No offense.” Dean said and Ariel giggles. “Gabriel always liked his tricks.” She said with a little smile as she reminisce.

“What is he doing on earth? I thought all the angels were in heaven until Cas rescued Dean from hell.” Sam said. “Everyone but Gabriel, he left heaven thousands of years ago. Before Michael locked Lucifer in the cage.” Ariel explained.

“What happened?” Sam asked and Ariel opens her mouth to explain but is interrupted by Dean. “I’m sure it’s a fascinating story but we don’t have time for it right now. (Y/n) and Cas could be in trouble.” He said.

“He’s right, it won’t take long for Gabriel to discover I’m here. It’ll ruin the plan.” Ariel said. “You got something in mind?” Dean asked and Ariel smirks. “Gabriel’s not the only one with a trick up his sleeve.” She said and winks, mimicking (y/n).

Later, at a wilderness area, Dean rummages in the trunk of the car. "Dean?" Sam said. "What?" Dean asked. "That, uh, feels really uncomfortable." Sam said and Dean shuts the trunk. "Ow." Sam said and Dean rolls his eyes.

"You sure this is gonna work?" Sam asked. "Well, Ariel said this will work, so I trust her. Plus I have no other ideas." Dean said then he goes to the front of the car and shouts at the sky.

"All right, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!" Dean shouts but nothing. "Should I honk?" Sam asked but then Trickster appears from nowhere. "Wow. Sam. Get a load of the rims on you." he said as he looks at Sam. "Eat me." Sam growls.

"Okay, boys. Ready to go quietly?" Trickster asked. "Whoa whoa whoa, not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs." Dean said. "What's the difference? Satan's going to ride his ass one way or another." the Trickster said and Dean looks at him. The Trickster rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers. The KITT lights on the car go out and Sam gets out of the car.

"Happy?" Trickster asked Dean. "Tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?" Dean asked, feigning ignorance. "I am the Trickster." the Trickster said, proudly. "Or maybe you're not." Dean said and Sam holds up a flaming cigarette lighter and tosses it down. A ring of fire springs up around the Trickster.

"We know you're an angel." Dean said and the Trickster looks incredulous, then laughs. "A what? Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?" The Trickster asked him. "I'll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake." Dean said and the Trickster laughs then he stops, realizing he is caught.

He claps and the world turns normal. "Well played, boys. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?" He asked them. "Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass." Dean said.

"Where'd I screw up?" The Trickster, or Gabriel, asked. "You didn't. Nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did." Sam said. "Partly it was the way you talked about Armageddon. And we had a bit of help." Dean said. "Meaning?" Gabriel asked then Ariel appears between Sam and Dean.

"Hello, brother." Ariel said as Gabriel stares at her, surprised. "Ariel? Thought you were dead?" He asked and she gives a smirk. "My disappearance was extremely exaggerated." Ariel said and she folds her arms.

"So, how does an archangel become a trickster?" Dean asked him. "My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two and your girlfriend screwed it all up." Gabriel replied. "What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?" Dean asked him. "Daddy doesn't say anything about anything." Gabriel said.

"Then what happened? Why'd you ditch?" Sam asked. "Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles." Dean said. "Shut your cakehole. You don't know anything about my family." Gabriel growls at Dean. "Gabriel." Ariel said to him, firmly, and he turns to her.

"You're gonna let him talk about our family like that, Ariel?" Gabriel asked her, angrily. "I don't really like it either but...he's not far from the truth." Ariel said. "I mean. I do love Dad and our brothers too, Gabe, but when they start to turn on each other, tear each other's throats? It's pretty messed up." Ariel said. "Which is why I couldn't bear it. So I left. And now it's happening all over again." Gabriel exclaims.

"Then help us stop it." Sam said. "It can't be stopped." Gabriel said and he turns to Ariel. "You, of all people, know that!" He shouts to her. "I believe there is a way to stop this! If we just work together, Gabriel, we can finally put an end to this." Ariel said and Gabriel laughs, humorously. "I'm tired of sitting by and watching this happen all over again. I putting my foot down!" Ariel said. "You are fiercely optimistic, Ariel. One of the things I missed about you. But you know there is no way of stopping Michael and Lucifer, thanks to these two and the girl!" Gabriel said. "Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over."

"It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug." Sam said and Gabriel laughs again. "Ariel mustn't have told you about our family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate." Gabriel said.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other." Gabriel said.

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean asked. "Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always." Gabriel said and there was a long pause.

Sam and Dean look down, then at Ariel then at each other. "No. That's not gonna happen." Dean said. "I'm sorry. But it is." Gabriel said before sighing. "Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be." Gabriel said and Ariel shakes her head. "No, not anymore. This time, I'm gonna change it. I'm gonna help these boys and (y/n) and do whatever it takes to stop this crap from happening again." Ariel said, fiercely, and Gabriel stares at her for a few moments before a smirk plays on his lips. "All I can say, sis, is...good luck." He said.

"So...Now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?" Gabriel asked. "Well, first of all, you're gonna bring (y/n) and Cas back from wherever you stashed them." Dean demanded. "Oh am I." Gabriel said, questioning. "Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel." Dean threatened and Gabriel snaps his fingers, Castiel and (y/n) appear.

"Cas, (Y/n), you two okay?" Dean asked as he gors over to them. "I'm fine." Castiel said and Dean goes to (y/n) and cups her face in his hands. "I'm fine, Dean. I'm okay." She assures and Dean embraces her as Castiel turns to Gabriel.

"Hello, Gabriel." he said. "Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful." Gabriel sneers and Castiel glares at him. "Okay, we're out of here. Come on, guys." Dean said as he pulls out of his and (y/n)'s embrace, takes her hand, turns and walks away.

"Uh. Okay. Guys?" Gabriel calls out as Sam, Castiel and Ariel follow Dean and (y/n). "So, so what? Huh? You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?" Gabriel asked and Dean stops at the door and turns back. "No. We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family. You probably should take some notes from your sister here." Dean said as he nods towards Ariel.

Then he pulls the fire alarm and Gabriel looks up as the sprinklers go off. "Don't say I never did anything for you." Dean said and Gabriel glares at him then at Ariel. The four of them leave as the Holy fire extinguishes.

Dean, (y/n) and Sam go up to the Impala while Ariel turns to Castiel, checking on him. "You okay, Cas?" She asked him, worried and concerned. "I'm fine, Ariel." Castiel said.

"All that stuff he was spouting in there, you think it was the truth?" Dean asked Sam. "I think he believes it." Sam said. "So what do we do?" Dean asked and Sam shrugs. "I don't know." he said. "I'm sure we'll figure something out." (Y/n) said and the boys nod.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing. Right about now, I wish I was back in a TV show." Dean said. "Yeah, me too." Sam said. "Okay, you two are gonna have to tell me what you guys did in TV Land." (Y/n) said. "Oh, do we have a tale to tell you." Dean said as they get into the car.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

76 notes · View notes