#when john died they put him in the trunk of the car

[turnipoddity]

my favorite critically acclaimed movie

#saw #saw fanart #myart #lawrence gordon #john kramer #amanda young #mark hoffman #little miss sunshine #when john died they put him in the trunk of the car

[ww2yaoi]

[here's a little taste of a multi-chapter clegan post-war fic I've been working on. note: I've taken creative liberties with the timeline and John and Gale's post-war lives. it's very much intentional]

Winter 1948

Marjorie Cleven dies on a Tuesday in December, two weeks before Christmas Eve.

John gets the call a few days later. Gale’s voice is steady on the other end of the line, but John knows his heart is broken. It’s the first time they’ve spoken since Marge got sick. After the wedding, there had been some letters exchanged, few and far between, but John has always been a crummy pen pal. There were reunions, but those were annual at most, and John rarely stuck around past a couple of drinks and a war story or two. When they got back stateside in ‘45, he thought the distance would be good for Gale, thought it would help put their past far behind them.

Now, in hindsight, it seems futile. John feels it all rushing back, like VE Day was just yesterday and Gale’s boots are still underneath his bed.

It’s warm in southern Florida. The sun beams down on the tarmac, hot enough to fry an egg on the airfield, sunny-side-up. John watches from the control tower as planes taxi below him. His trainees will be on furlough soon, but he won’t be going home for Christmas this year. Any excuse to maintain the two thousand miles between him and Gale.

It doesn’t last. John should’ve known he could never keep away for long.

Spring 1949

The back of the cab smells like menthol cigarettes and cheap cologne. John drums his fingers against his thigh, feeling suddenly restricted by his uniform now that he’s been let loose in the civilian world. Laramie, Wyoming passes by his window, a cluster of shops and banks and schools on a stretch of agricultural land bisected by historical railways and boxed in by mountains on all sides. The air is thinner here than in Manitowoc, and there are no waterfronts to be found. The terra firma is dusty and brown, the sun a sepia pinprick hanging low in the sky.

The cab weaves through neighbourhoods of modest-looking houses. John had handed the driver the address on a slip of yellowy paper, which Gale had relayed over the phone. John doesn’t know how close they are to his destination, but he can feel his anxiety rising like bile in his throat. He makes nervous conversation, the driver mentioning the geology museum, the fact that the town was named after a French fur trapper who disappeared somewhere in the mountains. It doesn’t do much to calm John’s nerves.

“What brings you to Laramie?” the driver asks, glancing up at the rear-view mirror to get a glimpse of John.

He’s young, probably around Gale’s age. Young enough to have served at least, but he doesn’t comment on John’s uniform. He just peers at him curiously, eyes darting back and forth from the road.

“Visiting an old friend,” John says and tries not to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. “He goes to school here.”

A moment later, the cab slows to a halt outside of a quaint-looking bungalow. John regards it from his window: white siding, yellow door, slate roof. Rose bushes line the walk-up, not yet blooming, and the grass has recently been mowed.

“Thanks,” John says, fishing a few bills from his pocket and handing them to the driver. “Keep the change.”

The driver smiles at him, close-mouthed, and pops the trunk. John slowly gets out of the car, like he’s trying to delay the inevitable, then fetches his suitcase from the back. He rests it on the sidewalk for a moment while the cab speeds away, looking at the house once more. A gaggle of kids darts down the street on bicycles. A few doors down, a lawnmower springs to life. It’s picturesque, like a postcard Gale might’ve sent him a few years back. John immediately feels out of place, still used to Nissen huts and crowded mess halls and military time. If he wants to turn back, now’s his chance, but he picks up his suitcase from the ground and forces his feet forward, climbing up the porch steps.

He thumbs the doorbell and it chimes. A dog barks gruffly inside the house. John removes his cap from his head and smoothes out his hair. He feels ridiculous, like a socially awkward teenager picking up his sweetheart for prom. His heart is in his throat as the door opens gradually, almost startling as a golden retriever pokes its head through the opening. It squeezes outside and dashes into the yard, yelping happily.

“Archie, get back here!”

John recognizes that voice. The door opens all the way, and suddenly, Gale is standing in front of him. Everything John had thought to say on his way over dies on his tongue. Gale looks practically the same, if not a bit filled out in his middle than he was during the war. His cheeks are smooth and shaven, flaxen hair styled off his forehead in a coif. John could never get used to seeing Gale in civilian clothes, but that’s how he appears in front of him now, crisp, white button-down hanging off his shoulders, navy slacks belted around his waist and brown cap-toe shoes on his feet.

They look at each other for a moment, unspeaking, then a smile splits Gale’s face in two. “Hello stranger,” he says.

“Gale.” John can’t help but return his grin. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He holds out his hand for Gale to shake it, but Gale takes one look at his outstretched palm and instead, pulls John into a hug. It surprises John, so much so that almost all the air shoots out of his lungs at the contact. Gale’s fingers meld into the muscle of John’s back. It takes John a moment, but he eventually returns the gesture, squeezing Gale gently. They part and Gale turns his attention towards the dog, Archie, who’s taken it upon himself to start digging around in the garden.

Gale whistles. “Come here, boy,” he shouts, clapping his hands, and Archie bounds over.

He pauses to sniff John’s shoes. John crouches down and pats the dog, rubbing his ears, and is instantly reminded of Meatball.

“He’s usually not so ill-behaved,” Gale says. “He gets excited around visitors.”

“I don’t mind,” John replies, smiling down at the dog.

Archie pants, long, pink tongue hanging from his mouth, then he retreats back inside the house. Gale reaches down and picks up John’s suitcase from the porch. John straightens. They look at each other again, a bit too long without words to be comfortable, but John knows they’re both adjusting to being in close proximity again after so long.

“Lead the way,” he says, motioning towards the open front door.

Gale seems to snap out of it. “Of course, come on in.”

John steps inside the foyer and closes the door behind him. The interior is small, but well-decorated and tidy. The ocean blue walls are hung with artwork, the hardwood floors carpeted with rugs. John sets his cap down on a table peppered with framed photographs but doesn’t stop to look at any of them. He follows Gale past the dining room, down a hallway, and through the kitchen to another hallway at the back of the house. Gale opens one of the four doors that line the hall and carries the suitcase inside. John peeks his head into the guest bedroom. A double bed sits against the far wall, night tables on either side of it that host brass lamps with cream shades. On the other end of the room is a cherry wood wardrobe and an armchair to its left, upholstered in a muted green. Above it lies a square window, lace curtains pulled together to drown out the harsh afternoon light. The bedroom is sparse and unlived in, like most guest bedrooms are, but John appreciates it just the same.

“Hopefully this suits you alright,” Gale says, setting the suitcase down beside the bed.

John nods. “Suits me just fine,” he says. “Better than what I have back at base. That’s for sure.”

Gale looks at him. An emotion John can’t exactly pinpoint passes over Gale’s face, something like recognition, bordering on wistfulness.

They return to the kitchen, and Gale beckons John to sit down at a round table in the corner. Archie laps water from a bowl as Gale putters around the kitchen, opening cabinets. He appears tense, but not in his usual stiff, reserved way. His energy is almost jittery, nervous, and he taps a rhythm on the countertop. It’s not like him, at least not like the Gale John knew during the war. He pretends not to notice.

“So, how was your flight?” Gale asks eventually.

“Good,” John says and adjusts his uniform, crossing his legs. “Felt strange not being the one flying the plane.”

“I’ll bet,” Gale replies with a suggestion of a smile. “Do you want something to eat? Some coffee?” He reaches into the cabinet and produces a tin of Foldgers.

“Just coffee, thanks,” John says.

He looks around the kitchen as Gale spoons coffee grounds into the machine. His eyes trace the checkered red wallpaper, the white-tiled backsplash, the laminate countertops, the icebox in the corner. He’s never seen Gale in such a domestic setting, not even during the wedding. Maybe that’s why he stayed away for so long, even when he was invited time and time again. Perhaps he didn’t want to experience Gale so far removed from the world they both inhabited for so many years, a world where the only people they could rely on were their men and each other. Now, there’s no avoiding it. It’s all laid out for John to see.

The coffee maker beeps and steams. Gale rests his elbows against the kitchen counter and looks over in John’s general direction, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. John doesn’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know how to fall back into the easy camaraderie they had at the beginning, before the stalag, before the march, before the end of the war. Seeing Gale has ushered back a slew of emotions John has been distancing himself from since they parted ways four years ago. He feels like an intruder in Gale’s home, looking for Marge in the corners of the room but not finding her. Guilt stirs in his stomach, and he asks himself again what the hell he’s doing here. This isn’t his place. This isn’t his life.

“How’s training?” Gale asks. “Are the boys following their orders, Lieutenant Colonel?”

John smirks at that, partly to hide his discomfort. It feels wrong that he should outrank Gale after everything they’ve been through, flight school, then serving together, then imprisonment.

“It’s busy,” John replies and drums his fingers against the table. “They’re good kids. Fucking caterpillars though. So damn young.”

Gale smiles softly. “Were we ever that young?”

“Maybe you were,” John quips. “I feel like my bones have been creaking since before our war even started.”

Gale laughs, and the sound hits John like a fist to his sternum. He realizes suddenly that he’s missed Gale’s laugh so goddamn much. It rings in his ears, out-of-reach and yet familiar, like a favourite song of his he hasn’t heard in years has come on the radio out of the blue. For a brief moment, John regrets denying himself this for so long, even if it was the only way he could get on with his life.

“How’s school?” John asks in turn. “Master’s coming along?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Gale says, nodding. “I like my classes. Lots of grading, lots of writing, some teaching. I’ve got a meeting on Tuesday with my advisor about my thesis.”

“Well, well, look at that,” John says, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. “Professor Cleven.”

Gale dips his chin towards his chest, almost shy. “Not just yet, John.”

“You’re getting there,” John says. “Y’know Marge wrote to me about your thesis a year or so back, not that I understood a word. Astrophysics, not exactly my wheelhouse.”

Gale’s face falters imperceptibly at the mention of his late wife’s name, and John immediately feels apologetic for bringing her up without much warning.

“It’s not done yet,” Gale says flatly, his gaze falling from John’s face to look at his interlocked fingers resting on top of the counter. “You can read what I have though if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I might,” John says and grimaces at his own inadeptness while Gale’s eyes are elsewhere.

The coffee maker beeps and Gale goes to it, removing two mugs from the cabinet and setting them down beside it. He takes the sugar out of the cupboard and the cream from the icebox.

John bites the inside of his cheek, knowing what he needs to say but unsure if he has it in him to say it. “Buck?”

Gale’s head snaps up at the sound of the nickname. He regards John with a puzzled look, like he’s no longer used to being called anything other than Gale to his face. The name is a relic from a different time, John supposes, something that belonged to them only, and when John was no longer around to use it, there was no one else around to take up the task.

After a moment, the expression on Gale’s face smoothes out. “What is it, Bucky?”

John swallows, then pushes the words out. “I’m sorry, y’know, that I, uh, I couldn’t make it. To the funeral.”

Gale looks at him for a moment, then his face softens. “It’s alright,” he says. “Marge didn’t much like being the centre of attention anyway.” He pours coffee into the two mugs, then adds sugar to one and cream to the other. “My mother-in-law appreciated the flowers you sent.”

“Oh, good,” John says. “Azaleas were Marge’s favourite, right? I remember them from her wedding bouquet.”

Gale’s eyes grow heavy with sadness. He nods. “Yeah, they were.”

As if on cue, John hears a grumbly cry coming from one of the bedrooms down the hall. It starts off quiet, like a baby stirring from sleep, then gradually gets louder until it becomes a full-blown wail. Archie’s ears perk up before he quickly sulks away.

“Sorry,” Gale says as he grips the coffee with sugar and hands it to John. “I just put her down for her afternoon nap, but she’s in that phase where she’s rebelling against sleep.”

John says nothing, frozen in his seat as Gale crosses the kitchen into the hallway and slips inside the bedroom. John had been so caught up in seeing Gale again that he’d almost forgotten. He stares into the inky well of his coffee, too stunned to drink from it.

Gale emerges a moment later with a bundle in his arms. Now calm, the little girl clings to him, her head tucked into the crook of Gale’s neck as she sucks her thumb into her mouth. She’s wearing cream-coloured footie pyjamas with pink roses on them, her curly blonde hair tangled from sleep. Gale draws circles against her back, rocking her slightly from side-to-side. John regards her carefully. She must be at least a year and a half now, much bigger than she was in the pictures Gale had sent him however long ago.

Gale approaches the table where John is sitting. “Lucy, this is your Uncle Bucky,” he says, pointing over at John. “Can you say hello?”

Lucy turns her head and looks straight at John, and John sees the Marge in her face right away, the slight upturn of her nose, the fullness of her cheeks, the pink purse of her lips, but her eyes are all Gale, blue and round and yawning. She quickly looks away, hiding her face back in her father’s neck.

“Sorry,” Gale says again and rubs her back. “She gets shy around strangers.”

John doesn’t expect it to, but the comment stings. The fact that any child of Gale’s could be a stranger to him is borderline unforgivable.

[To be continued...]

#masters of the air #john egan #gale cleven #clegan #buck x bucky #my fic

[pagannatural]

2.02 Everybody Loves a Clown

-Dad died so we’re going to a carnival

-MY GOD Dean looks amazing in this episode. He looks most himself in a t shirt covered in car grease. No wonder Sam keeps coming up to bother him.

-Sam is like Do you need anything Dean? Can I help with the car? Will you talk to me? I broke into our dead dad’s voicemail so that we could hang out again

- Dean: “I feel like a friggin soccer mom” well didn’t Sam play soccer and aren’t you his mom

-Dean asks why Sam was so quick to jump on this job and Sam says it’s what dad would’ve wanted. Sam wishes he could’ve truly made amends with John. They mostly fought about Dean last episode, and Sam has probably put it together that actually John traded his soul to the demon to save Dean so Sam probably feels a complicated gratitude toward John for that. He doesn’t know about John asking Dean to save/kill him, so he doesn’t know John has another reason for saving Dean other than just caring about him enough to sacrifice his soul and life’s mission to save him.

The other layer to Sam deciding now that he wants to be a hunter like John always wanted is that it’s so much easier for Sam to do that now that John’s dead. He’s struggling with the grief-that part isn’t easy- but he’s been fighting John his whole life. He doesn’t need to assert his independence from a father who isn’t there. Now his only real conflict hunting with Dean is being in love with him, but he trusts Dean and he’s seen now that he’s Dean’s top priority.

-What I wouldn’t give for Dean to lie to the carnival manager and say their act is him throwing knives at Sam. Can you even imagine the homoerotic tension. He just barely papercuts Sam’s neck, Sam gulps and tilts his head to show Dean the thin line of blood. Where am I

-Sam calls Dean’s behavior his “strong, silent thing.” The way he describes Dean in the rare moments he does is pretty revealing. Dean lies and hides himself frequently and Sam is the one person who sees through his bullshit. One of my favorite things about Sam is that he feels what he feels and he acts on it and the only feelings he can’t act on are those ones. You know the ones.

-Dean is angry that Sam suddenly wants to do what John would have wanted. Dean is pissed off that Sam wants to follow John’s wishes, now of all times. Because meanwhile, Dean is collapsing in on himself like a dying star with the need to not have to follow John’s last order, which was to potentially kill Sam. Dean would rather die. Of course Sam doesn’t understand this and just wants Dean to let him in, and he needs comfort from Dean. I bet usually Dean would give him that.

-Dean makes up with Sam by flirting with him, teasing that he’s a stickler for details about the case, and Sam smiles blushingly. He’s so pleased. Dean glances over at him with this pained longing. Just kiss.

-Sam with his whole body facing Dean, gazing at him:

-Sam looks displeased when he realizes Jo and Dean want him to leave so they can flirt

-Sam tells Dean that he misses John, feels guilty, and isn’t okay, and knows Dean isn’t either. He has tears in his eyes.

Dean looks at Sam like it’s physically painful not to comfort him. He must feel so guilty and horrible knowing John said he might have to kill Sam, like he can’t touch Sam while he’s holding this secret. He also thinks it’s his fault that John is dead instead of him, and therefore that it’s his fault Sam is struggling.

-Sam leaves. Dean just fucking loses it. He’s been working on repairing the Impala, the thing John left him. He grabs a crowbar and smashes the windows, tears a hole in the trunk. He’s so angry with John for putting this on him. Imagine, the same Dean who made John promise he’d keep Sammy safe before he would agree to leave for kindergarten. He stares after Sam, his lips trembling.

I love when Dean is violent. I don’t think his violence has surfaced in contexts other than overwhelming emotions for or related to Sam.

-They need to resolve the issue of why Sam is sticking around now that he’s finally, finally decided to. Sam’s actions show a trust and devotion to Dean as well as a desire for closeness, but Dean’s guilt and fear make him want to push Sam away.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #spn 2x02

[purple-imagines]

Guns and Trees

Pairing - JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - Reader gets shot by Rafe

Warnings - kissing, gun violence, blood, swearing, mentions of death and fighting

Word Count - 749

Masterlist

I laughed as JJ swung me back and forth, his way of “dancing”, Pope and Kiera had just walked off, leaving me, JJ, John B, and Sarah to ourselves. We were celebrating John B and Sarah returning to the island. 

JJ lets me go, allowing me to sit on the ground beside Sarah. I lay my head against her thigh. JJ and John B stand in front of us. I hear John B’s boat start causing me to perk my head up.

We all look out at the water, seeing Pope and Key taking the boat out. “Oh! All right.” JJ yells. Sarah waves, “have a good time”

  “There he goes. He jacked your boat, dude.” JJ tapped John B. John B looks shocked saying, “Popes poking on the pogue.” Causing me to laugh and Sarah to let out a cat call. 

JJ starts giving John B crap about Pope on the boat, while Sarah and I talk about Charleston. We hear John B say “wait” a few times, causing us to lift our heads up. “What was that?”

“Your chicken?”

“I heard a car door.”

I stand up beside Sarah, walking towards JJ, as he makes chicken noises. I hit his stomach, causing him to look at me, and I shush him. When he doesn’t stop John B puts his hand over JJ’s mouth.

Listening closer, I hear voices. “Put out the fire.” JJ grabs a bucket of water and pours it on the flames. “We need to hide.” John B looks around. 

“Inside?” Sarah suggests.

“They’ll look there.” 

JJ points towards the tree, “we’ve gotta go up.” 

We all, slowly, huddle around the bottom of the tree, first JJ and John B push Sarah up, then me, JJ and John B jump up right after. Barely missing Rafe and Barry.

Barry heads towards the house, while Rafe checks out the fire. 

“Where the hell are you?” Rafe asks, from right underneath us. I hope Pope and Kiara don’t come back.

I’m on the branch across from JJ, John B under me, and Sarah across from him. I hear Barry throwing stuff right before he slams open the door. 

“Yo, anything?” Rafe calls. 

“No, aint shit in there, bro.” Barry walks towards Rafe.

“No? Nothing?”

“No. Nothing, Rafe.” They both rub their foreheads. 

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke.” Great observation, asshole. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Great observation, boy scout.” Ha. 

“They’re not far, you know?” Just leave already. 

“Smokey the Bear! Look at you, bro!” Sarah and I look at eachother. I'm sure my expression mirrors hers. Barry has a gun and he’s getting angry, those two things don’t mix well. 

“They gotta be around here somewhere.” They both stare at the caving in the tree. It was a memorial for John B, we did it when we thought he and Sarah died in the storm. It’s a heart saying ‘2003 - 2020, John B Routledge, P4L’.

“P4L,” Barry’s mocking it. Him and Rafe are starting to laugh. Rafe pointing the gun at the trunk. “Well, shit.”

“So your sister’s a Pogue for life, huh, Rafe? Now who would’ve thought?” It's like Barry wants him to get pissed. 

Rafe starts shaking his head, letting out a loud yell, “shit!!” Sarah and I both flinch. 

“All right, chill.” Rafe raises the gun towards the tree, shooting the trunk, causing us all to flinch. 

“Hey! Whoa! Hey, chill, bro! Rafe!” Barry tries to calm him, grabbing his arm, causing bullets to shoot our way. I hide my face behind a limb. 

I feel a sharp pain shoot through the left side of my lower torso. I bite my tongue, to not make a sound. All I want to do is cry out. I grab where the pain is. Peeking out I see Rafe and Barry run back the way they came. 

I look down at JJ, John B, and Sarah, they seem to be ok. John B hops out the tree, grabbing Sarah's hand, helping her out. 

“Ju-” I stutter out, “Jayj” He looks up at me, I remove my hand from the wound, allowing him to see the blood. 

His eyes widened, “shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He repeats, climbing onto my branch with me. I feel my eyes droop.

“John B!” He calls out. I need-” His words start to blur together, and my vision gets spotty. 

I look down, barely able to see Sarah and John B. I feel JJ’s hands wrap around me, then nothing. 

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #outerbanks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #angst #outer banks angst

[lynnbeth5172]

Blacked Last Night

Small spoilers for Saltburn considering it takes place after the events of the movie🙂

……………………………………………………………………………………………… Summer felt slightly longer than it should have, at least that was the case for Michael, truth be told he didn’t do much besides maybe staying in his room back at his parents house; his cousin paid a visit to their house, he looked slightly better than before. The bags under his eyes had lightened slightly and his smile looked less tired. He felt less alone when his cousin was around; he continued studying the whole of the summer. Though he was from a wealthy family, he didn’t go to the other rich parties or anything besides staying home. Sometimes he and his father would play a game of chess, he had gotten better though he still felt a sense of unhappiness. His mind kept wandering to Oliver Quick.

He was the only friend he had in Oxford, only having one friend in private school and losing them when they went to a different college.

Getting out of his car, he got his things from the trunk and began walking to the campus. Feeling someone’s eyes on him. He turned to see his old friend with a group of other posh people, talking to him as if they didn’t ignore him in their freshmen year of college. Being near him because he stayed at the Catton estate and was with them when Felix and Venetia Catton died, a small bit of anger flickered inside of him.

Fucking bootlicker.

Quickly moving into his dorm, he closed the door and put his bag of things on his bed. Michael clenched and unclenched his hand as his anger mixed with sadness, he now has no one. He tried ignoring that thought and took deep breaths.

It’s fine

He’s fine…

He’ll just be alone for another year of college with no friends, sitting on his bed and closing his eyes. He calmed himself enough to get off the bed and start packing away his things, putting his books on a shelf near his desk as he went back on his bed.

Looking out the window and down at the people who were chatting to their friends, he went to email his parents that he made it to school okay and was going to do well. He did so and didn’t expect an answer.

Michael laid his head on his desk and closed his eyes, another year with no mates to talk to or hang out with. He used to tell himself that he didn’t need them, that his wits were his friend and that he’d rather be alone. But now Michael had a small longing ache for a friend, Oliver used to be his friend but not anymore.

‘Norman No-Mates my ass’.

Deciding to go to the library to release some feeling, he looked back out the window again to see another car pull up.

…………………………………………

…………………………………………..

“Here we are.” Vivi flinched slightly as she heard her brother’s voice in the seat next to her, rubbing her eyes slightly as she closed then opened her eyes again. The ride had felt slightly shorter due to her feeling like she was barely there, dissociating in a way.

“Need any help?” Her brother tapped the steering wheel to the car and looked at her, she felt slightly safe in the car. It was just a small place where she didn’t have to worry about being around too many people.

“No John, I’m good.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car to get her things, feeling a small wave of anxiety take over but suppressing herself from having a panic attack. As she got her things, she turned around to see her brother holding her pill bottle in his hand, she immediately grabbed it and muttered “Thank you” as she got her bags and held her bottle of pills in her hand. Playing with the label.

“Have fun…don’t be stupid.” Her brother, John, hugged her and gave her a bottle of water, likely to take with the pills.

Giving her brother a small smile, she walked onto campus and made her way to her dorm room. Not before stopping near somewhere to take two pills as prescribed by her doctor, as she walked to her dorm, she felt a small bit of calm. Slightly distracted by her thoughts, she felt herself bump into a shoulder. Looking up to see one of the wealthy students with someone she recognized, his face had become slightly stronger looking and his eyes were slightly piercing.

Looking down, she made it to her dorm. Closing her door immediately and dropping her stuff to the ground, rubbing her eyes as she began putting her stuff away. Hiding her pill bottle where her underwear was put; if someone had found out that she had been taking pills for her extreme anxiety…she didn’t want to imagine what they’d say, the students of Oxford already had their fair share of calling her “Weird” or “Scared girl”. She could only imagine the rich kids having another thing to dig at.

She knew she couldn’t be talking, she herself had come from an upper class background and had known some of the people at campus since they were kids. She remembered someone saying to a friend that their parent payed for them to be there and that they were accepted mainly cause of they bought their way in, or that their parents bought them into the school. Rather than actual intelligence.

Vivi didn’t know if she was as smart as some of the few people at the college, she could speak two languages and knew math well enough. Apparently not as brilliant as one of the students, Michael Gavey. Who she had learned had poked fun at her last semester when a new student came in, he was apparently Newton if he were alive again. As she finished putting her stuff away, she sat on the bed and waited for the sun to clear as she looked outside.

She found herself staring at the wall and she plotted a small idea to maybe go down to the Hall to eat slightly earlier so as to not be approached by anyone. Eventually she went to her bag and pulled out a yearbook for grades fifth to eighth, turning to see his face again.

On one of the pages she saw two people, while the girl was smiling. The other kid had a simple half smile on. As if nothing bothered him.

“Quick…”

……………………..

……………………..

So…sorry if this is bad, I may have had to search up some things considering I was like five in 2006 so I don’t remember much🙂I am so sorry if this is bad.

Taglist: @bellaisasleep @liv-cole @annoyingkittydetective @arcielee @slytherincursebreaker @boundlessfantasy @sepherinaspoppies @zae5 @valeskafics

#michael gavey x oc #oc #ewan mitchel #anya taylor joy #why did I do this?

[samdeancrimespree]

it’s time to overanalyze the impala destruction scene <3 with actual screencaps this time. my analysis of the shot will be Above the screencap. hopefully that makes sense

so sam tries once again to talk to dean about dad. dean yells at him again for suddenly wanting to do what dad would’ve wanted and sam opens up to him about feeling guilty. then sam says he’s dealing with dads death, but dean isn’t. dean doesn’t say anything, just looks at him like This.

we don’t know yet, what john said to dean before he died. but it’s hanging over dean. i think sam’s reaction to dad’s death makes dean want to keep johns words a secret even more. if he tells sam that’s what dad wanted, sam might go along with it.

every time someone brings up john, dean hears his words again, and he feels even worse. he can’t deal with dads death because that means acknowledging what he said, and it’s just too much. he already lost dad, he can’t lose sam too.

sam says “i’ll leave you alone.” and walks away. we only hear a few steps, but that might just be for clarity. who knows. or he just. took a few steps then stopped.

either way, dean turns around and calmly picks up a crowbar. he smashes the window of a random car. takes a few breaths.

as he turns around, he looks up from the ground. looks at something in front of him. it seems for a second like he’s going to stop.

then he looks down at the impala. he glances back up, just for a second. right where sam was standing before. it looks like he’s making sure sam is watching him. you want me to deal with it? fine.

“next time someone asks me if i’m okay, i’m gonna start throwing punches.”

so he goes crazy on the impala. we all know that part.

he destroys the car right after he fixes it. specifically the trunk of the car, where they keep their hunting arsenal. maybe that was just the closest part, or maybe he’s had enough of his family dying because of hunting. he didn’t want to find the demon if it meant sam would die, but now sam might die anyway. no matter what he does, the car/his family will be destroyed. he can’t fix it, and it’s futile to even try. all his work, all the time and love he put into sam might have been worthless.

when he finally stops, he looks wrecked. this is the most emotion he’s allowed himself since dad died.

this is the last shot of the episode. him staring for a good 10 seconds, still on that same eyeline. he seems like he’s looking at something.

he lets himself look sad for a second, but he doesn’t turn away like he normally would. he wants sam to see. this was all for him. it’s like… there. i’m upset. was that enough? can you stop asking now?

then his expression hardens, shutting down and covering his emotions again. it’s like he’s warning sam. dean can’t be sad, only angry. only destructive. this time, it’s the car. next time, it might be sam. the two things he’s supposed to look after, both ruined. and dad isn’t here to fix it. dean has to figure it out on his own.

it looks like he’s asking sam to just leave it alone. don’t ask me about this. i can’t talk about it. and for now, sam believes it’s just about dad dying.

and then the episode ends. i genuinely cannot tell if im supposed to think sam is there or not. but like its the same eyeline!!! and the shot is pushed in and to the right!! sam could be standing in the same spot for all we know !! also what else would he be having a silent convo with in bobby’s junkyard? the dog? his own reflection? the only thing that makes sense to me is that sam is there. that he’s doing this For sam. maybe this is something everyone noticed but me until rn but. im going insane

#im so obsessed with him #he belongs under a microscope. #also he looks so pwetty in this scene GOD #the car is Thee metaphor for their family js #also this goes with my post about dead man’s blood sorry if it doesn’t make sense #sorry just. can’t get over dean performing his emotions for sams benefit #everything he does. everything he shows or doesn’t show is for sam #and it only gets worse when john dies #there’s nothing else. no secondary loyalty #only sam #he’s crazy <333 #2.02 #everybody loves a clown #spn studies #spn #daddy’s blunt little instrument #samdean #dean #mars.txt #s2

[mattzerella-sticks]

Give me a 1970s AU Supernatural but not your average, everyday 1970s AU.

Like, instead of running away from home to college, Sam enlists and is shipped off to fight in the Vietnam War against his father's wishes for him to stay on the path of revenge. He puts his training and skills as a hunter to use, but over the course of 4 years becomes disillusioned and traumatized. He keeps re-enlisting, however, thinking this is a better use of his skills than hunting, as well as afraid to go back to America and be under his father's thumb again. He's forcibly, but honorably, discharged after 4 years as the sole survivor of his platoon's massacre. This plagues him with traumatic visions of his friends that, along with burgeoning visions, make day-to-day life miserable for him as he tries settling into a routine in a random town in America, trying to keep a low profile. He's got a job, he's been seeing a girl in town that he really sees himself starting a family with. Besides the visions, he might be able to make this work. All he has to do is bottle everything up.

Meanwhile there's Dean, who after learned about Sam's enlistment from a letter left to him, dove fully into the anti-war movement. He balanced attending protests and handing out flyers with hunting, always doing his best to spread the message of ending the war in any town he spent time in. His motives were mostly selfish - end the war, keep his brother safe - but Dean did learn more about the atrocities being committed halfway across the globe that sickened him. This drove the wedge between him and John, started when Sam left and John disowned him, deeper down as John barely cared about people who were dying overseas for no reason. His motivations for not supporting the war were that he had better things to do with his time, and so did his sons. The army didn't need them, he needed them. And because of this apathy from his father Dean began hunting less frequently with him. Because of this, he was able to explore America on his own while helping people, and his mingling with the anti-war crowd introduced him to the counter-culture movement. So over the 4 years Sam fights overseas Dean becomes more hedonistic, pacifisfic (fighting only when required), spiritual, and attends many of the touchstones of the counter culture (Haight-Ashbury, Woodstock, etc.). He is freedom personified despite how trapped he feels in his personal life.

About a few months since Sam arrived stateside, weird things begin happening in his town that he recognizes as being supernatural in nature. He tries to ignore it, but ends up stumbling into it and is saved by a hunter who reveals himself to be Dean!

Family reunion time. The episode catches us up on the brothers, and although reluctantly, they team up to end the threat.

Dean mentions after they wrap the hunt up that he'll be meeting up with John afterwards, for their routine check-in. Dean invites Sam, but Sam declines. This leads to a fight between the two brothers, with both of them calling the other selfish, stubborn, and other mean things. They part, not on the best terms.

A few days pass and Sam is still thinking about the fight, and it's making his visions worse. He decides to go visit the girl he's been seeing to get his mind off everything, but the door is open a crack when he arrives. He walks in to a seemingly empty house but as he moves deeper, he hears a lone drip coming from the bedroom. Sam goes in and finds a red puddle. He looks up.

The girl is nailed to the ceiling in a pose reminiscent of how his father described finding his mother the night she died. Then, eerily similarly, she erupts into flames.

Sam cries, calling her name as the fire spreads. He doesn't move, but luckily Dean drags him out of the apartment.

Dean saves Sam, and the two brothers watch fire fighters try and put the house fire out while sitting on Dean's car's trunk.

Sam asks why Dean came back. Dean explains that their dad never showed, and when Dean went looking found his motel in a total mess. It looks like he's been taken. Dean knows Sam doesn't owe him anything, but asks him to help find their dad.

Sam agrees. There's nothing left for him in this town. They get into Dean's car and drive away.

This would go through similar story beats, but retrofitted to match the times. Sam's powers mingling with his PTSD would be interestingly explored for his arc, especially when it's revealed either his powers or demons were to blame for his platoon's massacre (demons possessed the soldiers' bodies and made them kill each other while Sam watched, the army swept it under the rug to keep hysteria amongst troops and in the country down). We'll also see him struggle with addiction, as booze and then harder drugs make it easier for him to deal with the stress of everything happening around him. Hell wants him broken so that he can be their war king.

Meanwhile Dean uses the counter culture as a way of insulating himself from forming meaningful connections ("free love" and just rolling through town, going to parties where he just gets high), we'll also have it shown how he contends with free will as to why he hunts, especially when John dies, when he can do anything else? Heaven will also play to the life he's led and try to get his sympathies by casting themselves as the answer to Hell's aggression, meanwhile being as bad as Hell in their plans for humanity. Dean rebels like he learned.

There's also interest in seeing how hunting evolves over time, what the characters we know and love might look like in this period. Bobby being the supportive dad to Dean and Sam. Ellen and Jo being OG 70s feminists of the time. Ash having known Steve Jobs personally, Charlie working with the earliest computers when they run into her.

Because this can also go into the 80s, run the full 15 years our SPN did.

Leviathan plot? Instead of processed foods let's try pesticides, tying in Rachel Carson's work.

Angels fall? By the time that happens I think televangelists are on the rise so that would be great for angels to latch onto and rebuild their power.

Dean and Cas falling in love over the backdrop of the 70s that leads into the 80s which are 2 decades HUGE in queer history? Imagine a Dean and Cas in 1987 for THEE confession scene? Maddening. Foaming at the mouth. That would be fantastic. Not to mention how prior to that they'd have been raising a kid for a few years.

Tl;dr What if Supernatural was set in the 1970s, and we got Vietnam veteran Sam Winchester and hippie Dean Winchester.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #every 70s au is the same where Dean goes off to fight meanwhile Sam is the anti-war hippie #meanwhile Sam - the Sam who ran away - craved and respected structured authority systems #whereas Dean with his devil may care attitude and disrespect for the law would ABSOLUTELY burn his draft card are you kidding me?? #castiel #castiel starting in his business suit but then dean dressing him in more casual clothes #destiel #deancas #spn au #yes this is almost like the Winchesters but there's no other way to 1970 au the plot if we want to keep sam out of college #like i feel like every past au ive seen sam always goes off to college and dean gets sent to war #let's reverse that but the only reason dean is at any college is to pass out antiwar flyers and buttons

[pof203]

The Vet (Keith & Nathan)

"Come on, John!" begged Keith. "You, too, John John!"

But neither of his dogs responded. And it was for good reason in their opinion... Keith was taking them to the vet for their yearly checkup.

"Please, it's just a checkup. They already gave you or shots. Please? We'll go to the Doggie Cafe when we're done. You love the Doggie Cafe."

Keith saw that even bribery wasn't working. He lets out a sigh.

"Alright, I see I have no choice."

With that... Keith activates his powers as a wind started swirling around him.

"SKY-"

But before he could finish, John and John John quickly get up and go to the door to await their master to put their leashes on.

"See?" said Keith, deactivating his powers with a smile. "That wasn't so hard."

A short while later, Keith came out of the building with both dogs on their leashes. On the street, Keith's partner, Nathan, was waiting for them in their car.

"So you finally came," they said. "They must really not want to go."

"Yes, it's a chore, but it's worth it," said Keith with a smile.

Keith and Nathan get the two dogs into the back of the car and the two of them went into the front. Then, they drive off to the veterinarian.

"By the way," said Keith. "Thanks and thanks again for the ride. My car is still in the shop."

"It's no trouble," said Nathan. "I have nothing planned for today until my dinner with Karina and Pao-Lin tonight, so I'm free. Besides, I'm curious about this Doggie Cafe. What kind of place is it?"

"It's a restaurant where dog owners can bring their dogs and eat with them. Sort of like a cat cafe. It's really popular... But I think it's mainly because Kotesu and Barnaby were in a commercial for it."

"I see. It must be exciting having a dog."

"It's a wonderful experience. You should consider getting a pet, too."

"I don't think so. When I was a child, I had a goldfish... It died a week later."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Besides, aside from being a hero, I also have Helios Energy to run. I may not have enough time to take care of it."

"I know... Come to think of it, and I know this sounds a bit personal, but how did you come to own Helios Energy. I know your parents owned it before you, but I thought they despised your for for your differences."

"It's true, even today, they still have some issues with who I am. But being their oldest child, they didn't have much of a choice."

"You must have had a lucky break then."

"Not really. When I took over, I was still met with disdain. The only difference this time was because I'm a NEXT. Now that part is lucky."

"I see. How did you overcome it?"

"I just remind myself of who I am and that they don't own me. Only I can control my life. Surely you remind yourself sometimes same thing."

"I never really thought about it."

Keith just stares out at the window.

"It's just," he continues. "I always thought about doing good and whatever the sponsors say. I never really thought that they would own me. I try to be more open with my feelings."

"That's actually a good start," said Nathan. "Being open can welcome many good things."

"If only it were that simple."

Keith lets out a huge sigh of longing.

"You're thinking about that girl again, aren't you?" asked Nathan, sympathetically.

"Is it that obvious?" Keith responded. "I may never know what happened to her. I was waiting at the park all that time and she never came. I hope wherever she is, she's alright. I hoped getting John John would help, but I guess it's not enough... But at least John is happy."

"He is. And I'm sure that girl is happy, too. And she would probably want to you to move on if it didn't work out between you."

"... I suppose you're right. I'll try to stay open and I'm sure I'll meet someone. All good things come to those who wait... Unless you're thinking..."

"Honey, you're cute, but I prefer mine to have more... junk in the trunk... Like a certain bison we all know."

"Guess I lucked out then."

The partners both laughed knowing that things are brighter in the future.

"Here we are," announced Nathan.

They arrived at the clinic. After getting John and John John out of the car and into the clinic. They sat in the waiting room when they spotted a familiar face... It was Ryan with his pet iguana, Molly, who was looking greener than usual.

"Bad case of food poisoning," he said.

The end.

3 Days Left!

#TnBuddyWeek! #tiger and bunny #tiger & bunny #tiger & bunny 2 #Tiger and Bunny 2 #nathan seymour #fire emblem #keith goodman #sky high #fanfic

[motownfiction]

bitter

Sadie and Daniel run into Vicky St. John at the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving in 2009. It’s all very standard. Vicky tells them she’s living in San Francisco with her new girlfriend, an anti-gun activist named Saffron (“born and raised,” Vicky says, as though that’s the most surprising thing about what she just said). She says she wishes she could have met the kids, who are at home, baking all the pies for tomorrow’s dinner. She says she’s still sorry about Sam’s death. When he died (almost seven years ago, which makes Sadie lose her breath under those terrible fluorescent lights, if only for a moment), Vicky sent flowers and a card, but she says she always knew that wasn’t enough. She shares a funny look with Daniel, and Sadie remembers what she’s been trying to forget for almost thirty years: that time she walked in on Daniel and Vicky on the deserted top floor of the mall.

It was damn near thirty years ago, and Sadie still thinks about it. Not that she thinks it would happen again (with anyone else). Not that it shouldn’t have happened the first time. Sadie had no claim to Daniel then. Wasn’t his wife. Wasn’t his girlfriend. Just some sixteen-year-old girl with a mad crush on a sixteen-year-old boy. But anybody who’s ever had a crush at sixteen can tell you: seeing the person you think you could love with somebody else, paying attention to somebody else, not seeing you standing there until you squeak and make your presence (awkwardly) known … it’s a disastrous feeling. A hollow, numb feeling. When Sadie remembers the moment, her limbs fill in the rest.

When they load up their trunk with Thanksgiving groceries, Daniel asks Sadie if she’s still thinking about their run-in with Vicky. Sadie nods.

“You know how it is,” she says. “Can’t even shop for instant mashed potatoes without running into one of my husband’s former conquests.”

Daniel sighs, halfway between sympathetic and irritated.

“Look, I thought we talked about this,” he says. “You and me … we’re married. Anything that happened before then … look, it’s not like it doesn’t count, but it doesn’t change … it doesn’t change right now. You know it.”

Sadie sighs. She’s not still bitter about Daniel’s lengthy catalog of ex-lovers. She couldn’t be. They’re married, they’re in love, and that has to mean something. It does. What she doesn’t like is feeling sixteen again. What she doesn’t like is the memory of a time when things were unsteady, unsure; when she thought she was ugly, unworthy. Sadie doesn’t want to go back there. And no matter how much she’s changed – no matter how much she’s learned about herself, no matter the good she tries to seek out and do in her brand new life – seeing Vicky St. John on her home turf will always make her feel like she’s back there.

They get into the car (Daniel in the passenger seat; Sadie at the wheel), and Daniel reaches for Sadie’s hand after she puts the key in the ignition. He looks at her with big brown pleading eyes. Before, he has been just as handsome as now, but there’s something about him tonight, under the glow of the parking lot ambience. Something that sticks.

“You were always the only one,” Daniel says. “And I think … well, you know what I mean.”

Sadie nods. She puts the car in reverse and makes her way out of the parking lot, Thanksgiving goods safely tucked away in the trunk. When she looks at Daniel from the side of her right eye, she sees him just as clearly as she saw him when he was sixteen. When they were sixteen, Sadie didn’t know she could love Daniel DeLuca any more than she already did. But then, she did. More and more everyday.

“I know,” Sadie finally says. “You were always the only one, too.”

A silence falls in between them, but Sadie isn’t afraid. By now, she’s learned to fall in love with a good hush.

#drabble #ch: sadie doyle #ch: daniel deluca #ch: vicky st. john #ship: still the same #year: 2009

[nimuetheseawitch]

Hello Nimue 🤗

For the ask game:

Rodney goes to Maine.

I almost wanted to go for "John dies" but I chickened out. 👀

Alright, Rodney Goes to Maine is my baby because it takes some of the concept of BJ Goes to Maine from the MASH fandom and applies it to my favorite Pegasus nerds. The reason it is languishing in my WIPs folder is mostly because it is a concept that is going to require at least 25k, and long fic is hard....

I think I've posted most of this before, when I working on it more actively, so here's a big chunk (below the cut because otherwise this is a real long post:

It’s mid-afternoon by the time the rain finally stops, and Rodney has barely said a word. John went about his normal routine with only a few concessions for having another person present. At some point during the night before he’d decided he wasn’t going to ask. He hadn’t asked Rodney why he stopped calling, stopped responding to emails, and he wasn’t going to ask why he was here now, after 5 years of silence. He’d made a life for himself without Rodney McKay, and he was going to keep on living it.  The car isn’t too badly off, although it will be if they wait for a tow truck. By the time one could make it out there, the mud will have dried around it. But luckily, it only takes a few tries for the Jeep to pull the car out, and the engine still turns. Rodney follows him back and parks next to him, then stands awkwardly by the trunk of his car, still not saying anything. John folds his arms and leans - he’s still good at that, and figures he can wait Rodney out.  “Can I…?” Rodney starts, but can’t seem to go further. John just raises an eyebrow.  “Can I stay?”  John stares for a moment. Rodney is asking. Actually asking, not barging in and deciding he’s here now. And he’s still not explaining. John had been ready to accept that he’d be putting Rodney up for a day or two, however long whatever this would take, but now that Rodney’s asking, he realizes he could say no and Rodney might go away. It’s not like he’d invited him here. He was managing just fine out here on his own, with his infrequent SAR work and his fishing and his plane and his occasional contract work for the SGC. He didn’t need a scientist to barge into his life and break the quiet and talk to him and drink beer with him and, well, he didn’t need Rodney. Not anymore.  He’s waited too long to speak, he realizes. Rodney starts babbling, “I don’t have to stay. I can find somewhere. I’m sure I saw a sign for a motel before I got off the highway, and although the beds are always terrible they at least usually have internet, and I guess that would work, and I know I didn’t tell you I was coming, but I wasn’t sure what you’d say, so I didn’t call–”  Suddenly, John is angry and cuts Rodney off. “No, no you didn’t.”  Rodney tenses up and searches John’s face for something. He flinches at what he finds and his shoulders slump, as if he’s folding into himself.  “You’re right, I didn’t. I’ll, I’ll just be going then. Sorry to bother you. Thanks for the tow.”  That defeated and lost look stirs something in John, something fierce and protective that he doesn’t want to look at closely because he’s spent years pushing it away. But it forces him to say, “Nothing’s open. Season’s over. You can stay.”  He turns to head back inside and doesn’t look back, but he once again leaves the door open for Rodney. 

#wip game #sga wips

[navstuffs]

Headcanons of doing a hiking trail with Adrian

Pairing: Adrian Chase x gn!reader

Warning: YOUR EXTRA DOSE OF FLUFFNESS IS HERE WITH SUPER CUTE ENDING

Author's note: kinda part 2 of this, but you don't need to read it so you understand this one. i just came back from a travel and we hiked. Now time to write about cute dates with Adrian again 😊😚 idk what to came to me in the ending

This time was Adrian who surprised you with a road trip, announcing in front of the team. John and Chris insisted for you to be prepared for a catastrophic date, hunting down a serial killer that was still on the run but Adrian shook his head saying that would be for his birthday

(Did I mention the team asking for more souvenirs?)

So when Adrian wakes you up at four am and blindfolds you is enough to say, you are worried.

He drives singing his favorite playlist of pop songs. He insists if you peak he will do something you won't like it, as repeat fifty useless curiosity facts of Peacemaker

Adrian parks the car and he is humming Baby, Baby One More Time by Britney Spears. He helps you exit the car and you can hear him grabbing bags from the trunk. He actually packed last night without your help and Adrian promised you he check listed from Google. Usually, you are the one that helps him pack so he doesn't forget anything

Or bring anything wrong like when he brought your vibrator as an essential item for a mission because you kept saying just important things

When he takes your blindfold, you blink with sudden clarity. Your eyes finally adjust and you are facing a huge amount of pretty green trees.

"TA-DA!" Adrian points with his arms to the trees behind him "I googled this one with Leota and Emilia's help. I didn't want to fuck it or tell Peacemaker since he would have told you. I love P, but you know how open mouth he can be"

You finally understand why Leota kept asking for activities you liked and if you knew of any pretty trails she could take her wife around town

Adrian points at the beginning of the trail and he is holding two packed bags. He says he texted his list to Leota and Emilia and you grab it, remembering to thank the girls later

You start the hiking trail and it is almost impossible to keep Adrian shut. He is talking about how long will take ("Maybe 6 hours total") talking about how nice the weather is today, how breathtaking you look. He yelps every time he sees a squirrel run in front ("Those squirrels can be spies for Bigfoot. Keep your eyes open, baby, I packed a few weapons in case we need to defend for our lives.)

Adrian mentions he likes to think you and him are discovering a new palace in the middle of the woods, where maybe you can both rule

"That sounds like Bridge to Terabithia. And the girl dies at the end, babe"

"I like to think she is living as the Queen of Terabithia."

When the terrain starts getting inclined you take turns going in front, to help each other.

You notice the fast looks Adrian gives in your direction, wanting to know if you are enjoying it or not. Or if you are okay. If you are overheating. If you aren't getting too tired.

Adrian always makes sure to help you, even if you don't really need it. He walks in front of you rapidly and jogs back to say if it remains harder or got easier.

You share with him that your family always loved hiking. You considered yourself a city person but was good to go to the wild and unwind. No phones. No technology.

Adrian says he and Gut would come with their mom or dad and dad's new boyfriend to the woods. Sometimes he would camp with them. You suggest one day you should do it with all your families together.

When it gets close to lunchtime, you stop for rest. He packed sandwiches, chips, fruits and some chocolate bars you like, tons of water. You eat watching as the sun hovers over a lagoon in front of you. You take a selfie in front of it, with Adrian kissing you on the cheek

When you go back to walking, you two need to put on baseball caps because the sun is getting stronger. You and Adrian need to stop a few times for a breather and water sips now that the terrain is very inclined and difficult. Adrian promises you a breathtaking view, it is all going to be worth it

When you finally arrive at the top, you lose your breath. It is extremely pretty like you have never seen it before. You can see down to the whole city and others around it, mountains around those towns. Adrian seems lost in thought as well, not speaking for a few minutes.

"It is so pretty, isn't it?"

"Not as pretty as you, baby."

"Adrian Chase, you can be so flattery sometimes."

You two rest, eating a chocolate bar and drinking water, watching the view. You say how nice would be to watch the stars since the park is far away from town and Adrian winks at you, suggesting "Maybe, next time"

When you two are finally ready to leave, before sunset, Adrian decides to kneel in front of you, grabbing for his pocket. Your heart jumps out of your chest and you half scream his name, holding your own chest

"What? You good, babe?"

He stops playing with his pocket and brings a cloth to clean the sweat away from his face then tying his shoelace. You pout a little when his green eyes fixate on you

"Nothing. Just thought...nothing. Thank you, Adrian. Today was great"

"Oh. I am glad you liked it. Asking for your hand if you have gotten upset with all of this would be complicated."

What

The?

Your mouth opens as Adrian simply shrugs.

"I asked Peacemaker if I should do this. He said if I wanted to be with you, I should ask your hand and make you happy. To be together."

"You know asking for my hand means you want to marry me right? Be with me forever?"

"Oh" Adrian seemed to ponder got a second, his forehead making wrinkles "If that's what it is, then sure. But probably not forever since I can die in a mission. I will make sure I don't"

You throw yourself into Adrian's arms, hiding your face in his neck so he doesn't see you cry. Adrian never liked to see you cry, he said it was like you were wasting water from your body.

"Yes, Adrian. I want to marry you. And stay with you forever. Until I die in a mission, at least" you chuckle and he grabs your face, staring at you seriously.

"It is impossible for you to die. I won't let you."

"Well, then I will die of old age."

"Eh, maybe. I will try to bargain with Death about this."

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante x you #vigilante #vigilante x reader #I LOVE THE IDEA OF TAKING HIM IN CUTE DATES AND HAVING FUN AND WATCHING HIS FACE GET ALL RED WHEN HE SEES YOU ENJOYING IT #like he is extremely happy you are happy #peacemaker #adrian chase x you #peacemaker fanfics #adrian chase fanfics #vigilante fanfics #i also love comfort adrian #peacemaker vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #peacemaker hbo max

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #okay but ive been doing some thinking and i can formally declare that i think their song is call it what you want (by taylor swift) #it fits tbh

[teddy06writes]

Who Knew Being A Youtuber Was Dangerous

requested by this anon: "Okay last one I promise…. I think. So CC!Dream x Bodyguard!Reader or reverse the roles, whatever works. Premise: Dream starts going to conventions and needs to be protected from all the antis and obsessive fans. But Dream didn’t know his bodyguard was gonna be attractive…"

dream x reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, general violence/threats

premise: The first vidcon after Covid has finally arrived, and with his face newly revealed, Dream's getting a bit worried a bout how a week in California will turn out, so, he (lets be real it was his manager) hirers you and your team for protection

{Also reader has implied military background}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You didn't tell me that they were coming all the way out here! I thought we were meeting them in California!" Dream argued into his phone.

You leaned against the rented escalade, watching as he paced back at forth.

One of your partners half leaned through the passenger seat window, "Sir? We're going to be late if you don't wrap it up!"

The man in the driver seat tapped his thumbs on the wheel anxiously, "I can handle politicians, I can handle CEO's, hell I can handle regular celebrities'- but youtubers? Dude why?"

You looked back at him, "Don't complain, he's paying bigger bucks than anyone we've had in years."

"I know but-"

You shook your head, cutting him off as Dream approached the car, "I'm sorry- I just thought I wasn't getting your services until I landed in California."

You shook your head, "You've still got to get through two international airports, and your flight. We'll be going along with you throughout the duration of your trip, but that won't happen, if you don't go get your things so we can leave on time."

"Yeah-" He sighed, "I'll- get my bags."

Shaking his head, Dream hurried back inside, grabbing his things before sending Sapnap a panicked snap 'sap help the body guard is hot'

When he got no response, he sighed, pulling his things out of the house and locking up behind himself, "You know for body guards you are dressed awfully casually."

You sighed adjusting your windbreaker, as you grabbed one of his bags to put in the trunk, "We're supposed to blend in. People might think it's suspicious that you need body guards, they could... plan things."

"And three extra people traveling with me isn't?"

"Smith and McAllen aren't going to be with us, with us. Within range, sure, but not following you around. You're going to be telling people I'm just- a friend or something- your life was private enough it would blend in." You reported, closing the trunk and moving to open the other door for him.

You moved around the car, climbing into your own seat, "Let's move."

~~

The airport was fairly crowded, but you navigated through it carefully, avoiding the biggest groups of people and instructing Dream to keep his hood up.

After almost two hours of anxiety, you had finally boarded the plane, tucking your backpack under the seat in front of you.

"Where'd the other two end up?" He asked quietly.

"Smiths on the other side of the row, two up, and McAllen's behind us." You reported.

Dream nodded, and the two of you settled in for take off.

Nearly an hour in, and you could tell he was getting bored as he leaned over, "So how does one end up doing body guard stuff anyway?"

You shrugged, "My contract was ended early.... I was looking for a job, retaining all my previous work experience, and I stumbled upon this agency."

"It's strange that it's even a real job."

"It's strange that playing a video game is even a real job." You shot back, grinning.

"How do you know what type of videos I make?" He asked skeptically.

"Well I have to make sure a client is legit before taking a legal offer, right?" You chuckled.

~~ The flight was nearing at end, finally, and you went over the plans again, looking over the layout of the airport on your tablet.

"What're you doing?" Dream asked.

"You never get tired of questions do you?" You sighed.

He frowned, "Sorry..."

You sighed again, "We're supposed to plan the routes around every fucking building you go into. We have a plan, we stick to the route, we keep idiots like you safe from anti's and crazy fans."

"Crazy fans?"

"Well you only just revealed what you look like, you've never been mobbed in public," You explained, "You can never trust what a obsessed person would do. That's how John Lennon died."

"Really? You're citing the Beatles on why your looking at airport maps?"

"You literally hired me for this!"

~~ So far, vidcon had been uneventful on your part, and you found yourself back in the old routine of standing off to the side, in hallways, or generally out of the way as your client did his thing.

The same lie had been told millions of times by now, Dream's partner, that's how the internet knew you, and lies grew, but all you had to do was walk along side him, nothing more.

Your partners could normally just explain away being assistants or managers working with vidcon organizers.

"Someone on twitter started a conspiracy thread that 'dream and (y/n) are not a real couple, I found so much proof this weekend'." Sapnap laughed.

From your place at the other table you nearly choked on your sandwich as Dream began to wheeze.

"why is this getting traction!?!"

"Someone added to the end," Smith reported, looking up from his phone, "Their debating if it's real, fake, or if the person made the thread cause they were jealous."

You took a sip of your water, "I can't wait till this is over, then we'll break up and the stans will forget about me."

Dream laughed, "That's too bad, I was thinking of taking you guys on full time."

You sighed, shaking your head, pretending to be annoyed, "Oh no, being paid to fake date some cute famous guy."

"You think I'm cute?"

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, "Hurry up, we've gotta leave in ten."

~~

You were halfway through the convention center when suddenly you began to miss all that standing around.

As usual movement through the convention center was tough, but this time the crowd seemed different, particularly as someone near the back began yelling about something.

You scanned the crowd, and the woman seemed to lock onto you, "You! Yeah you! Who the hell do you think you are?"

You glanced back at McAllen, who nodded, starting to move to the side, Dream following, ever so slightly.

"You don't get to date him! How could you stoop that low Dream?"

More yelling erupted from the crowd, and someone seemed to charge forward.

You immediately took charge, grabbing Dream's arm and pulling him along with you as Smith hurried forward to block the man.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dream asked.

"Shut up, and stay behind me." You hissed turning down a side hallway as all hell started to break loose in the convention center, a single gunshot ringing out.

"Shouldn't you be going to stop that?" Dream asked as you and McAllen hurried him down another corridor.

"Job for the police, not us." You muttered, "Exit's through here, lets go."

From behind you, there were more shouts, something about stealing Dream.

“Motherfucker, these people are insane.” McAllen muttered.

~~

Somehow, you’d managed to get Dream out of the building, double back, and also collect Smith and Sapnap on the way.

Running on pure adrenaline, you’d then helped anyone else, evacuating civilians as the police worked to talk down the shooter.

By the time you had arrived back to the hotel, finished making statements and refusing to answer a frat deal of questions from father fans, you were about to collapse.

“I thought your job was just to get me out of there.” Dream said, looking up as you entered your room.

“I did.”

“And then you went back in.”

“I help people, okay?” You snapped, “Normally this job doesn’t include being shot at because I have to fake date someone who I’m protecting.”

You sat down heavily, “just- gimme a minute to breath. You’ve made my job more complex than it needed to be.”

“With my dashing good looks?” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes, “I mean with the amount of trouble you’ve caused me we might as well be actually dating, then I might benefit more.”

He grinned, “I just might take you up on that.”

#mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #teddy06 writes #teddy06

[waparthurketch]

dean wearing the trench coat when cas dies instead of johns jacket

dean putting the trench coat next to his pillow when he goes to sleep

dean wrapping himself in the trench coat when he sits on the couch

sam and bobby having low conversations when dean is sleeping with the trench coat over him like a blanket on the couch

“we really have to wash that thing”

“he won’t let me. says it smells like him”

dean driving with the jacket in his trunk every day even though they’re moving car to car to car

dean praying to cas every night anyway. wearing the jacket hoping it’ll bring the connection closer

#don’t mind me ruining my own day #thinking about dean wearing the trench and losing my shit about it #dean winchester #dean winchester headcanon #spn headcanon #supernatural #destiel #cas #castiel #sam #bobby #spn #dean

[angelfishofthelord]

FIRST LINE OF YOUR LAST 20 STORIES

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. 

omg thank you @slipper007 and @icefire149 for tagging me to do this im so sorry it took me half a century to get around to it

Lamb to the Slaughter: Their father is back. A solid body; a familiar voice; a heart that beats against their own when they embrace.

give your tears to the tide: When Sam comes back from his supply run he’s careful to close the Bunker door behind him quietly. It’s close to two in the afternoon, which means Cas might be sleeping.

every breath is sacred: The first time Castiel gets asked about it, it’s an offhand comment from Dean.

rabbit hearted girl: The words leave her lips like the bitter brush of charcoal. She pinches her brow tighter, digs her fingernails into the tender of the angel’s wrists. 

The Book of Luke: The last thing Castiel says to Dean before he dies is “cover your ears.”

let it snow: “Here.” Jack carefully hands Castiel a bright red mug of cocoa. “Jody’s out of mini marshmellows so I didn’t put any in.”

(and heal): It’s been a few days. 

An Obesity of Grief: In the end no one really remembered exactly when it happened. It was mid-battle; a losing battle, to be exact. 

i am covered in skin: Cas comes back from the Empty, and he’s fine, in a papier-mâché version of the word. 

look at me: Cas has been different since his meeting with Metatron. 

john dee and chocolate chip waffles: The rhythmic murmur of Cas’ car engine is different from the Impala; not bad different. Just different.

Both Saved and Lost: Dean comes across him first. 

you're safe now: The first time it happens Jack isn’t even hurt.

you're nothing like him: Jack tries to look nonchalant as he slips a pack of fruit roll ups into the shopping basket. 

my life is a song for you: It starts with anger, of course; most of the ideas Castiel has have been met with that. 

sea of blue or aztec gold: The three of them stand in the left corner of the motel room like some kind of conclave of the grown-ups. 

sufficient for thee: The first time Castiel’s grace performs the act of healing is when he has to repair Jimmy’s vessel after re-entering it. 

Between Dusk and Dawn: The machetes jingled against the other knives in the bag as Dean tossed them into the back of the trunk. 

you must know you are beloved: I wasn’t there when you were born, and I missed the first time you died.

don't look away: In one swift moment the two angels unhook Cas from the chain he’s been hanging from and shove him down to the ground.

okay so i see i use the word "first" a lot and my first lines are usually pretty telling about the content/mood of the piece. my favorite is definitely no. 5 the book of luke. you know whats making me insane? i just realized these were ALL written in the last 13 months. i clearly have one (1) single hobby. anyways im tagging anyone who wants to <333

#thank you sam and rachel for the tag and sorry again for taking forever #my spn fanfic

[maxineswritingcenter]

Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

----------

2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work. 

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.  

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave. 

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker. 

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat. 

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-” 

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.” 

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.” 

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting. 

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window. 

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?” 

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.” 

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.” 

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened. 

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.” 

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.” 

-

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends. 

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel. 

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N). 

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.” 

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?” 

“How about snookums?” 

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed. 

“Honeybunches?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar booger?” 

“The Spanish word for no is no.” 

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?” 

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?”  He raised his eyebrows at her. 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.” 

- 

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat. 

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.” 

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s. 

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window. 

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips. 

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?” 

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?” 

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...” 

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.” 

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” 

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N). 

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened. 

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

-

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean. 

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything. 

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.” 

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there. 

- 

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town. 

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye. 

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself. 

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said. 

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together. 

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers. 

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. 

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone. 

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock. 

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call. 

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around. 

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

-

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field. 

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased. 

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice. 

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-” 

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back. 

-

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving. 

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat. 

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked. 

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?” 

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.” 

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.” 

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup. 

“Why’s that?” 

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.” 

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.” 

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked. 

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.” 

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed. 

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room. 

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it. 

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?” 

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks. 

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.” 

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face, “How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

-------------

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