just uncomfortable the answers out of your guests

Through time and space (part 3)

Part one, part two

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“Right then, Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester, you tell me. Where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?” The Doctor says with a cocky smirk.

“Forwards.” Both you and Rose reply. The Doctor then asks how far forward and Rose goes with 100 years.

“Come on Rose, be a little more adventurous.” You tease. “I say a thousand years into the future.” The Doctor takes you 10,000 years in the future just to show off. You and Rose aren’t buying it.

“Right then, you asked for it. I know exactly where to go. Hold on!” The Doctor says messing with a few controls. When outside of the TARDIS you notice that you’re not on earth- but above it. A small smile forms on your face. “You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying, like you’re going to get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids. But you never take time to imagine the impossible, that maybe you survive. This is the year five point five slash apple slash twenty six. Five billion years in your future, and this is the day…” The Doctor checks his watch as the sun flares and turns red. “This is the day the Sun expands. Welcome to the end of the world.”

“No way.” You say trying really hard not to sound shocked. The Doctor laughs and tells the two of you that the three of you should make way to wherever the other guests are.

On the way there, the Doctor gives you some details about what is going on at the moment. The steward stops the three of you, he’s suspicious- also blue. “But how did you get in? This is a maximum hospitality zone. The guests have disembarked. They’re on their way any second now.” The steward points out. The doctor pulls out a piece of blank paper and shows it to the steward.

“That’s me. I’m a guest. Look, I’ve got an invitation. Look. There, you see? It’s fine, you see? The Doctor plus two. I’m the Doctor, this is Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester. They’re my plus one and two. Is that all right?”

“Well, obviously. Apologies, et cetera. If you’re on board, we’d better start. Enjoy.”

“What was that?” You ask in a soft tone of voice.

“The paper’s slightly psychic. It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time.” The Doctor answers.

“That’s one of the most ingenious things I’ve heard of.”

“We have in attendance the Doctor, Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester. Thank you. All staff to their positions.” The steward says interrupting the conversation between you and the time lord. The staff quickly gets into position. “Hurry, now, thank you. Quick as we can. Come along, come along. And now, might I introduce the next honoured guest? Representing the Forest of Cheam, we have trees, namely, Jabe, Lute and Coffa.” You weren’t expecting actual walking and talking trees, you’re a little surprised to say in the least.

The steward then announces the other guests, which you tune out because you’re thinking about Sam and Katie, and how much they would enjoy this. You pull yourself out of your thoughts before you go in to deep. “The Gift of Peace. I bring you a cutting of my Grandfather.” One of the trees say. She offers the three of you a potted twig. The Doctor pats his pockets looking for a gift, he can’t find one.

“Thank you. Yes, gifts. Er, I give you in return air from my lungs.” He says before gently breathing on them. He does this for all the guests, guess it works as a gift… the steward then introduces the last guest: the last Human. The Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen.

“That is a mouthful.” You whisper in Rose’s ear. She smiles in response. Now you and Rose were expecting an actual human with limbs and things like that, not a trampoline of skin with a face on it.

“Oh, now, don’t stare. I know, I know it’s shocking, isn’t it? I’ve had my chin completely taken away and look at the difference. Look how thin I am. Thin and dainty. I don’t look a day over two thousand. Moisturise me. Moisturise me.” Cassandra says to everyone else before talking to her attendants. One of them sprays some form of liquid on her. “Truly, I am the last Human. My father was a Texan, my mother was from the Arctic Desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in its soil. I have come to honour them and say goodbye. Oh, no tears, no tears. I’m sorry. But behold, I bring gifts. From Earth itself, the last remaining ostrich egg. Legend says it had a wingspan of fifty feet and blew fire from its nostrils. Or was that my third husband? Oh, no. Oh, don’t laugh. I’ll get laughter lines. And here, another rarity.” The other gift is a jukebox. “According to the archives, this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity’s greatest composers. Play on!” You have to hold back your laughter when the trampoline woman calls a jukebox an iPod- there is a huge difference between the two.
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You and Rose walk the ship together, but the two of you are unsure if you’re allowed where you happen to be. “Sorry. Are we allowed to be in here?” Rose asks the woman in overalls and a baseball cap.

“You have to give us permission to talk.” She answers. Rose looks a bit uncomfortable as well as confused.

“Er, you have permission.” The woman in overalls smiles ever so slightly.

“Thank you. And, no, you’re not in the way. Guests are allowed anywhere.”

“Okay.” Rose still looks uncertain about what is going on.

“What’s your name anyways?” You ask.

“Ruffalo.” The woman you’re guessing is some sort of maintenance answers.

“That’s an interesting name.” Ruffalo looks a little embarrassed. You then smile. “Its also fun to say. Ruffalo.”

“I won’t be long, I’ve just got to carry out some maintenance. There’s a tiny little glitch in the Face of Boe’s suite. There must be something blocking the system. He’s not getting any hot water.”

“You’re a plumber?” Rose asks in response.

“That’s right, miss.”

“They still have plumbers?”

“I hope so, else I’m out of a job.” Ruffalo says with a slight smile. You, Rose and Ruffalo talk for a little bit. You and Rose allow Ruffalo to go back to what she was originally doing.
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The Doctor does something to Rose’s and your phones, now they can call or text from anywhere in time or space. Rose calls her mom to test it. You on the other hand send a text to Sherlock and John. “If you think that is amazing you should see the bill.” The Doctor says with a smile. You chuckle in response. Suddenly the ship shakes like an earthquake is happening. “That shouldn’t happen.”

“What was that?” You ask.

“Whatever it was it wasn’t a gravity pocket.” The Doctor then talks to the tree woman and she calls you and Rose the Doctor’s wives amongst a few other things that is a little awkward.

You and Rose walk towards Cassandra, only you veer left towards the jukebox. You then start messing with it seeing what songs are on that thing, you find songs you know and somehow get the jukebox working- you had to kind of hot wire it and insert a coin for it to work. Yellow Submarine by the Beatles starts to play. “I haven’t heard this song in many millennium.” The Face of Boe says startling you.

“Face of Boe, you frightened me.” You reply.

“Apologies Y/N.” The way how he talks is as if he knows you. You figure that he knew you five billion years ago if that was even possible. You and the Face of Boe talk for awhile, Rose throws you the occasional glance but doesn’t say anything. For the first time since she’s known you, your guard is down and you’re not looking over your shoulder every ten minutes. You sway in time to the music playing, occasionally singing along. Metaphorically speaking you’re letting your hair down just this once.
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Someone has planted robotic spiders on the ship to sabotage the systems and pretty much kill everyone, and the person responsible for the sabotages is Lady Cassandra. “I bet you were the school swot and never got kissed. At arms!” Cassandra commands. Her attendants raise their guns.

“What are you going to do, moisturise me?” The Doctor asks with an incredible amount of sass in his voice. You hide a smile behind your hand. You were going to say something to Rose about it but she’s nowhere to be found currently.

“With acid. Oh, you’re too late, anyway. My spiders have control of the mainframe. Oh, you all carried them as gifts, tax free, past every code wall. I’m not just as pretty face.” You make a mental note to never trust a talking trampoline.

“Sabotaging a ship while you’re still inside it? How stupid is that?”  

“I’d hoped to manufacture a hostage situation with myself as one of the victims. The compensation would have been enormous.”

“Five billion years and it still comes down to money.”

“Do you think it’s cheap, looking like this? Flatness costs a fortune. I am the last human, Doctor. Me. Not that freaky little kid of yours.”

“Hate to ask this but who are you referring to as the freaky kid? Me or Rose- both of us came with the Doctor.” You point out. Cassandra makes no comment in response.
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After everything it’s just you, Rose and the Doctor once again. The Doctor takes you and Rose back to your original time, and he tells the two of you that he is the last of his kind. His planet was destroyed in a war. The two of you tell him that he has the two of you.

Rose and the Doctor goes one way to get chips. You on the other hand returned to Baker street. You had enough adventures for one day. You head up the stairs. “There you are Y/N I was wondering where you disappeared to.” John says with a smile.

“Are you going to tell us what you were going to say before you left?” Sherlock asks setting down his violin.

“Right I mentioned that. Where do you want me to start?”

“Preferably from the beginning.”

‘Fair, you better not tune me out or tell anyone. If you do I might shoot you.“
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Your mom was a hunter and she did a lot of hunting with your dad, but she never told him that she made a deal with a demon and her time was almost up. When you were born your mom only had three years and a half years left.

“John I need you to come get Y/N.” Your mom said into the phone one day. You didn’t hear what your dad said in response. “I see… please hurry though.”

“Mommy, what’s going on?” You asked looking at your mother with large innocent eyes. Your mom didn’t have the heart to tell you that she was about to get ripped apart by a hellhound.

“Nothing sweetheart, but will you do me a favor… I want you to clean up your room a bit.” You nod slightly as your mom tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Whatever happens, just know I love you and I’ll always think about you.” You didn’t understand that your mom was saying her goodbyes to you, you thought that she was meaning something else.

You pick up your toys and things like that you come out of your room to tell your mom you were done- instead you find blood everywhere and your mother’s body torn to shreds.

You were alone for three long hours, scared out of your wits. “(Mom’s name)? Y/N?” Your dad asks when he gets there and inside. Katie was the one that found you, trembling as well as crying your eyes out. Because your tears clouded up your vision you didn’t recognize your sister, if anything she scared you more than you already were.

“(Nickname), it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” Katie said trying to comfort you, without a lot of success. The boys had a little more experience comforting a scared toddler under their belts, Dean especially. She got up and walked away from you towards Dean. “Hey Dean, need your help… I think I accidentally made Y/N more scared then she originally was.” Katie then lead Dean to where you were. You had calmed down enough that you could at least see.

“Katie, how about you go help Dad and Sammy. I’ll get Y/N.” Dean said. Katie nodded and then took her leave. “Baby bug… you can come out now.” Your brother said coaxingly. You gave no form of verbal response, mainly because you had your thumb in you mouth. You did however shuffle forward a little bit. Eventually Dean gets you to come out of your hiding spot. He then picked you up and set you on his hip before carrying you to your room. He sets you down and takes off the backpack he was wearing and tells you to grab some of your favorite things and put them in the bag. Instead you grabbed a different bag that looked pretty heavy for a toddler and held it out to Dean. “That isn’t what I asked you to do.” Your brother says slightly annoyed as well as confused. In an almost inaudible voice you told your brother that your mom already put a bag together for you, you just needed to grab your stuffed animal friend and your blanket. “Grab them for me?” You nodded and grabbed your stuffed animal, your pillow and your blanket off your bed.

On the way out to the car you fell asleep against Dean’s shoulder clutching your stuffed animal friend to your chest. Your pillow and blanket are safely stowed in the backpack. “Got everything?” Your dad asked.

“(Mom’s name) had already packed most of Y/N’s things… as if she knew that this would happen.” Dean explained.

“She probably did… I mean she was a hunter after all.”
-End of flashback-
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“Six years later I first learned how to use a gun, and how to do stitches.” You say coming to an end of your explanation. “Started actually hunting when I was about eleven or twelve years old… I left hunting and came here after a bad argument with my dad, and I think you know the rest.”

“That explains why you were worried about Rose. You thought the doctor was a shape shifter.” Sherlock points out.


“What happened to your mother’s body?”

“Dad and my brothers gave my mom a hunter’s funeral, so basically she was cremated.” Surprisingly it isn’t Sherlock that tries to tell you the supernatural doesn’t exist- it’s John.

“There’s no way in hell, that can be true.” John states folding his arms.

“Believe what you will, but I am telling the truth. Humans aren’t the only monsters in this world.” You answer rather calmly. “Now if you excuse me I have to go explain to my sister why I sent her a picture of a bitchy trampoline.”

“A what now?”

“You heard me just fine John, I don’t need to say it again.”

“I’m wondering what you mean by bitchy trampoline.” John clarifies. You pull out your phone and look through your pictures and find the picture of Lady Cassandra that you took. And hand your phone to John.

“That’s what I mean by bitchy trampoline… she’s one of the people I met on my most recent adventure with Rose and the Doctor.” John accidentally scrolls to the next picture: the Doctor throwing you an ‘are you kidding me’ look. “That’s the Doctor. I made him look at me when I took that hence the ‘are you kidding me’ look.” You then take your phone back and walk to your room about to troll your brother and sister.

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What In God’s Name?

Summary: You’ve been with the boys for years, you met up right after the apocalypse, and have been with them ever since. You’ve had a hard past, and absolutely no faith in the absent father upstairs. When Sam and Dean come home, toting some supposed ‘almighty being’, you’re meaner than you probably should be.

A/N: So I finished season 11 of Supernatural!!! And this is something I’ve been thinking about. It won’t be a series.

Warning: Mentions of dead family, bit of angst.

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One Shot #04 - "A Little Snow and Ice Bring A Baby"

One Shot #04

“A Little Snow and Ice Bring A Baby”

**Contains element of: Mild language – Please read only if you’re comfortable**

If there was one thing that you hated more than snow and ice, it was Harry climbing up on the roof of his mother’s house to hang Christmas lights in snow and ice. 

“You better be damned careful,” You muttered as you pressed a up of warm tea into his hand before kissing his cheek gently. 

“I will be. Don’t worry about me.” Harry laughed softly, slipping his arm around your waist and squeezing your side. “I’m always careful. Plus, it’s just a little snow and ice." 

"You are prone to accidents.” You say, looking up at him with warm eyes. “You need to remember that you have two people to worry about now. Don’t be stupid.” You say, absentmindedly running your hand over your eight and a half month pregnant belly. 

He nodded and rest his hand on your belly, feeling your son kicking. “He never stops moving does he?” He laughs. 

You shake your head and look down at your belly, spotting his elbow roll across your belly and stretch your skin, revealing it through your sweater. “Never. He’s got your long legs and big head.” You tease before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Go out there and help Robin.” You say as Robin walked in, bundled up.

Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea, “See you soon.” He grinned before setting the cup down and walking out with Robin. 

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you? Because if you aren’t, then something is wrong with you.” Gemma laughed from her spot at the kitchen table. Anne laughed and nodded along. 

“You have no idea…” You sigh and grab the cup of tea Harry sat down, moving to the table and sitting next to Gemma. “He makes me so nervous. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose, that’s just how he is. He’s accident prone." 

Anne nodded, settling down a plate of fresh cupcakes from the oven, "Trust me, we know.” She winked, “Dig in, girls. It’s time for a little relaxing.” She said, sitting down. 

You reached forward and grabbed one, pulling the wrapper off and breaking it up into pieces. You popped a piece into your mouth and smiled, resting a hand on top of your belly. 

“So, have you settled on a name yet?” Gemma asked, looking over in your direction. 

You groaned and shook your head, “It’s so difficult to pick out a name. We know we want his middle name to be Edward, but we can’t agree on a first name. Which is unfortunate because he’s going to make his grand appearance in three weeks or less." 

"Maybe you’ll have to see the little guy first.” Anne shrugs, “Sometimes the perfect name just pops up when it’s least expected." 

"That’s what Harry keeps saying. I’m pretty sure he’s purposely stalling the naming process so we can name him once he’s born." 

"Not too long now,” Gemma smiled, reaching over and pressing a hand to your belly, feeling your nephew moving around.


You had just settled into the couch with your cup of tea by the fire when you heard the loud thump on the roof. Your heart froze as your body suddenly turned cold and you started expecting the worse. You jumped up as fast as you could and pulled on your jacket and shoes, rushing out onto the little porch off the front door. 

“What’s going on? Who’s hurt?” You shouted, gripping the railing to keep your balance on the icy steps. You looked up and saw Robin helping Harry stand back up as he gripped his back. “Babe?” You shouted, panic coating your voice.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He groaned, carefully climbing down the ladder, Robin following him. Once he was safely on the ground, you shuffled over to him and placed your hand on your cheek. 

“Babe, what hurts?” You ask, starting to panic as he stretched out his back, his face contorting in pain. 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” He sighs and brushes your hand away, shuffling into the house. You sighed and looked back at Robin as he looked at you with a smile. He offered you his arm as he helped you back inside. 

“Thanks Robin.” You say softly, letting go of his arm and moving into the kitchen where you found Harry pressing an ice back into his back. “Harry, what hurts? Are you okay? Let me look at your back.” You say hurriedly. 

“Babe, I’m fine!” He snaps with a sigh, looking over at you. “Stop hovering!”

You stood there, almost in shock as he snapped. You leaned your weight against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, excuse me all to hell for worrying about my husband who fell on the roof.” You said, your voice raising slightly.

“You don’t need to worry about me all the time!” He argues. “I know how to take care of my damned self!” He says before throwing the ice pack in the sink.

“I’m sorry for caring about you! You can’t just blow this off like it was no big deal. You were on a roof and could have fallen off! We have a baby on the way, Harry! Stop acting like an idiot!” You shouted.

“Oh, bloody hell, get over it!” Harry shouted before grabbing his car keys from the dish on the table by the door. He opened the front door and slammed it shut without another word.

You looked over at Anne and felt your eyes well up with tears. “Honey, it’s okay.” She says gently, rubbing you arm. You shook your head and wiped your eyes, walking off up the stairs to the guest bedroom. 


The small twinges of pain didn’t start off as pain, just annoyance. You shifted uncomfortably on the couch as another pain started low in your back before wrapping its way around your belly. 

It had been four hours since Harry had stormed out and he wouldn’t answer any calls or texts and your anxiety levels were rising. You had too much to worry about with Harry to pay attention to the pains starting in your belly.

You let out a slow sigh as you pressed a hand to your belly and closed your eyes. It’s just those false contractions you thought to yourself. You shifted uncomfortably again before it passed and you visibly relaxed. You could feel Anne’s gaze settled on you, but ignored it, denying to yourself that you could be in labor.

You pushed yourself up and straightened your shirt before walking into the kitchen to grab a water. You stood at the sink, sipping on your water, looking out at the snowy scene outside. Suddenly, the pain was back again and you audibly gasped as you griped the counter tightly. You tucked your chin to your chest and let out a shaky sigh. 

There was a hand on your back almost instantly and you looked up to see Anne. “Breathe slowly. In and out.” She says gently, rubbing circles into your back. After it passed, you let out a breathe and looked up at her. 

“This isn’t happening…it’s just false contra-” You start, stopping when you felt a sudden pressure between your legs before a stop pop and felt liquid run down your leg. “Oh…my god,” You whispered tightly as Anne looked down and laughed softly. 

“I don’t think these are false contractions, sweetie.” She laughed. You looked over at her with wide, fearful eyes. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get Harry home and we’ll be at the hospital in no time.” She said gently.

Just as she started to guide you upstairs so you could change your clothes, the front door opened and Harry appeared. “Oh thank God,” You sighed, relieved that he was home. 

He looked over at you and his eyebrows furrowed when he took you in. “Babe…it’s happening, isn’t it?” He asked just above a whisper. 

You nodded and looked at him with scared eyes. “You may be back, but I’m still pissed at you for leaving with no responses.” You say as he walked over to you and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That fight caused this, I bet you.” You say with a touch of laughter. 

Harry nodded and wrapped his arm around you, guiding you to the stairs, “I’m so sorry, love. I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up. Thank you for looking out for me.” He says softly, guiding you up one stair at a time.

“Its okay.” You whispered, holding onto his hand tightly. “Let’s just forget it. Our son is on his way." 

He grinned and kissed your neck as he kept his grip on your hips. "Let’s go have our son." 

Send your requests in HERE — Please include a boy and situation! 

Also, please send in your feedback. I love to hear your guys’ thoughts! 

Second runner up for oneshot contest.

Imagine finding Bucky after the events of ‘Winter Soldier,’ taking him home so you can take care of him.

You grow to yourself in the dark as you pass yet another street light. One hand clutches the steering wheel too hard while the other rubs back and forth across your the back of your head in frustration. The yellow light momentarily illuminates your vehicle as you pass it before dowsing you in darkness again. The road stretches out in front of you, black and empty and spotted with more dots of yellow reflecting in the gloss on the ground from the last rain.

The radio is playing a song that is far too loud and far too peppy. You smack it. This, of course, does nothing. You’re growl turns into a load grunt, and you jerk you hand over to flip on your turning light before you pull off to the side of the road.

You stop there, in the dark, and rub your eyes. A long sigh, a deep breath, and you manage enough self control to turn off the radio without breaking anything. Then you put your truck in reverse, glare over your shoulder, and make a three point turn back onto the road.

Retracing your earlier route, you drive slowly, trying to calm your heart for what you are about to do. I have no sense, you repeat to yourself, furious. No sense. Not the sense I was born with, not a lick. I’m gonna get murdered. And it’ll serve me right, too, little goody-two-shoes that I am—

The headlights of your truck illuminate a shadow hunkered over on the other side of the road. Swallowing all your second guessings, you whip into the turning lane, pull across into a random road, and then back right out again. A few seconds later, you roll to a stop along the edge of the street, headlights shining on what is undeniably a person. You stare at them through your windshield, feeling the rumble of your engine beneath you, feeling rather than actually voicing your internal debate again.

After a minute the figure lifts their head and a hand to shield themself from the light, peering at your through the glare. You pop open your front door and hop out, throwing your shoulders back and fingering the knife in your pocket for security.

You approach. Your voice is rather gruff when you ask, “You okay?”

The figure, rather bulky and decked out in a thick sweater and ripped up jeans, just blinked up at you. He even had on gloves. The entire outfit was decidedly too warm for this weather, middle of the night or not. A hood was pulled up over his head, loose scraggles of dark hair poking out limply around his face, which was buried in shadow.

“Well?” You snap, shifting on your feet and crossing your arms uncomfortably. It’s dark and late and your alone in a strange neighborhood with a silent stranger; you feel like jumping out of your skin. It’s like the first few minutes of a horror movie. Someone’s probably watching you on their tv, screaming at the screen for you to get back in the truck and drive off before you get yourself killed.

But this isn’t a horror movie, you tell yourself. This is real life and you are a kind person, worried about a stranger that might need help. It’s not like you can’t defend yourself. You aren’t uncautious. You can do this. Nothing bad is going to happen.

You keep repeating that as you wait.

“I …” The figure slowly lets his hand down. His voice cracks a bit as he continues, something between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know.”

It’s heartbreaking. Such a simple sentence, but …

You uncross your arms. “You’re not some kind of serial killer or mass murderer, right?”

This is said jokingly, to lighten the mood and relieve your tense muscles. Instead, the words hang in the darkness, unanswered. A chill runs through you.

“I … ” He begins again, finally, staring down at the pavement. “No. I’m not. I’m not.

He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. It’s unnerving, but seriously, you wonder if he’s crying under that hood. He sounds so broken.

"You need me to call someone for you?” The police, you wonder. A hospital?

“There’s no one.”

“You got a place?”

“No. Not for a long time.”

Just your luck. “If I give you a lift, are you going to kill me?”

He snorts. “No. … a lift where?”

You cringe, half tempted to turn on your heel and just drive away. Just drive away.

Instead, you hear yourself reluctantly say, “My place.”

He looks up, staring into your face. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason to help someone?” You shrug. “I’d hope someone would help me if I needed it. Do you need it?”

He doesn’t answer for a while. He just stares, and you feel frozen to the spot, hand in your pocket again, thumb planted against the knife handle.

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Please.”

You nod. “Get in.”

Slowly, he stands. He doesn’t seem unsteady on his feet, which you take as a good sign, and back up to the driver’s side door. Once in, you lean across the seat and unlock the passenger’s side. He opens it and climbs in.

You don’t bother to turn the radio back on as you pull out into the road and drive away. Your knife is no longer readily accessible, but your both seatbelted in, so that’s a comfort. The drive isn’t that long, either. Twenty more minutes and you’re home, driving your car around the back of the thin two story building, ignoring the garage in front. That’s your shop, not for parking.

Downstairs is where your business runs out of, with the main office and storage areas. Because of this, security is pretty good—when your not bringing a stranger into the building with you, that is. You can see the headlines now: “Local Mechanic Found Dead in Home After Misplaced Act of Kindness.” The story of the hopeless world you live in practically writes itself. A tragedy.

You lead your “guest” upstairs with you, unlocking the apartment and throwing the keys on the kitchen counter as you enter, before even flipping on the lights. It’s a reflex. The place is pretty small, if you’re honest. But it’s home.

Walking past the counter straight into the living room reveals a sofa, coffee table, and the rather pricey tv that is your pride and joy. It’s the most expensive thing you own, even counting the computer set up downstairs in the office. Sadly, a lack of cable or satellite means it only gets used to watch the same cheap dvds over and over.

To the left is the door to your bedroom, which contains the only upstairs bathroom. It occurs to you that you’ll have to keep your room unlocked to supply access to it. A slightly uncomfortable thought.

“Alright,” you say, waving around the room. “The couch is all yours, the fridge is stocked, and the bathroom is through there. Make yourself at home.”

You turn to find him standing still just inside the doorway, eyes darting around, taking in the room and everything in it. It’s easier to see his face in the light. He’s unshaven, with sunken eyes, a strong chin, and thin lips. Frankly, he’s pretty good looking, but in definite need of a shower.

“You know what? I’ll take the couch. You hop in the shower and then hit the hay, alright? Unless your hungry.”

His eyes flit to you. They’re a deep, intense blue that isn’t helped any by the chilling stare he’s got going on. “I … am hungry, yes.”

It’s the middle of the night; you don’t want to cook. But all the same, you drop your bag by the bedroom door and start rummaging through the cabinets. There isn’t much. Living on the job like you do doesn’t leave much room for cooking, especially when fellow workers can come knocking during your lunchbreak to ask for help (which they always do). Normally, you manage to work takeout into the budget.

But your guest looks like a deer caught in headlights, panicked and stone still, ready to run at any moment. He’s pretty well built, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been without food recently. You want to do what you can. In the end, that turns out to be oatmeal and toast (you figured that was healthier than a frozen pizza; you’ll save those for tomorrow if he stays that long).

You set the food on the coffee table before him and settle onto the couch beside him. He finally pushes his hood back as he picks up a piece of toast and nods to you before taking a bite.

“Thank you.” Munch.

You smile, satisfied. He’s pretty quiet while he eats. He hasn’t taken the gloves off.

While he’s busy, you dig in your dresser for a pair of baggy sweatpants and an overly large tee-shirt. When you join him again, he’s finished off most of the bowl. You set the clothes beside him, along with a towel.

“That’s all I got, but they should fit. The washing machine’s downstairs, so just leave your dirty stuff by the door and I’ll take them down in the morning.”

He scoops the last of the oatmeal into his mouth and dusts his gloves off over the bowl. Flecks of toast scatter at the bottom. Then he picks up the shirt and holds it out, eyes flickering over the design.

It’s Captain America’s shield. He can’t seem to look away.

“You’re in my bed, friend.” You finally interrupt him, smirking. He puts the shirt down, blinking rapidly.

“Sorry. Thank you.” He stands and makes for the bedroom door, but pauses, swallowing. “Really. Thank you.”

You mock salute him. “You’re welcome.”

He disappears into your room. Hoping you don’t get your throat slit in the night, you sprawl out over the couch, settling where you can see the door over the tops of your feet, and try to sleep.


You honestly expected, when you picked your guest up, that he would be gone within a day or two. It takes that long just to get a name out of him, let alone find out where he belongs.

He uncomfortably informs you over dinner the third night that his name is James. You still wonder if that’s his real name; sometimes he doesn’t answer to it, like he’s not used to being called that at all.

James is quiet, tidy, and withdrawn. He’s also strong, unpredictable, and polite. They’re weird qualities to have rolled up in one person.

Seeing him emerge from your bedroom that first morning had been a tad startling. His left arm is a prosthetic, completely metal. He refused to leave the apartment until his hoodie and gloves were washed so he could hide it again.

If he wants to cover his arm up, that’s his business. But you were determined to make it clear he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to.

It looked like an expensive piece, but you don’t ask about it. Just like you don’t bug him for a name. James talks when he was ready to talk, and you think that’s probably best.

Two months it takes before he’s comfortable walking around the apartment in a tank top, and it’s still two weeks after that before he’s okay coming downstairs to the shop like that for the other employees to see. By then they’re all used to your mysterious roommate.

Hanging out with the workers is good for him. Making him smile has become a sort of personal goal for you most days, and having the others around to add variety helps. James’ sense of humor is varied and could even be raunchy at times, though he’s uncomfortable laughing at first.

James is uncomfortable with everything at first.

You let him do whatever he needs to do. The guy obviously has some soul searching that needs to be done. You give him a place to come home to, though, admittedly, the couch wasn’t much, so you saved up and got a new one that folds out into a bed. But he looked ready to run at any moment those first few days, so you never once mentioned him leaving. After a while, you didn’t really want him to.

He has nightmares. Bad nightmares. A far as you can tell, James is a vet, come home from a war to poverty, amnesia, and PTSD. You’re no therapist, but a few hours pouring over google has you hoping you’re equipped to deal with whatever James throws your way.

He breaks things sometimes. On accident, when he’s mad, when he wakes from the nightmares. He’s always sorry, always apologizing more than he needs to, always cleaning up and working to do something to make it up to you. He got into a fight in the garage once and broke a guy’s arm. He didn’t come out of the apartment for a week after that.

The dog helped with that. The internet had suggested it, and you had run with the idea. You’d visited three shelters before coming home with a three legged chocolate lab, which James had quietly named Buck. They were inseparable.

James takes great care of Buck, helps out in the shop (though, with the metal arm, he isn’t allowed near anything with a live current), and tends to flirt with just about anyone that comes through the door (something that bothers you a bit more than it should, but you’re trying not to think about that). He still has his silent, broody days, but his quirky smile is a vast improvement over the jumpy deer you’d brought home. It warms your heart every time you see it.

So when one of your coworkers mentions that James looks just like the pictures of Bucky Barnes they have up in the museum, you laugh it off. And when another guy says that, seriously, the resemblance is uncanny, pull up a pic on your phone, you roll your eyes and tell him to get back to work. And when James lets slip he was once “Sergeant Barnes,” you try not to think about it. Or about the outdated references and vocabulary you’ve had to correct. Or how he always seems to zone out when Captain America is on the news.

James will talk about it when he wants to talk about it. Until then, he’s home. With you.

As selfish as that may be, for now, he’s yours.

Written by forestofmyown.

Treat You Better (Calum Hood - Part 2)


You had spent the last couple days at Calum’s house, ignoring phone calls and texts and listening to abusive voicemails every once in a while. You didn’t want to deal with it right now, and your ex-boyfriend’s true light was really starting to come through.

“Alright, I’m gonna go pick your stuff up,” Calum mentioned, shrugging on his coat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I’ll just wait in the car, I promise. I don’t feel right making you go on your own,” you asked, pushing yourself up off of the couch.

Calum looked over at you softly. “Well, be honest, how comfortable would that make you?” he asked and you captured your lip between your teeth. “That’s what I thought,” he chuckled softly, coming over to you and kissing your cheek gently. “I won’t be any longer than half an hour okay?”

“Okay,” you sighed out and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him up against you. For a moment, you stood there quietly with your eyes closed. “Be safe okay?”

“I will,” he chuckled softly, the vibrations echoing through his chest. “Now,” he pulled you back slightly, rubbing your upper arms. “Just hang out here and when I come back, we’ll figure out what we’re going to do, okay?”

You gave him a soft smile and nodded your head, backing up away from him. He slipped his shoes on and left you alone in his flat, giving you some time to yourself. You wondered how things would go down, if this would be the last that you would have to deal with your ex. You had decided to let him take over the house and you had told him that in a text. Unless it was absolutely necessary, you didn’t really want any more contact with him.

The longer you spent away from him, the more you realized how pressured you constantly felt. Being at Calum’s, things were relaxed, you didn’t have to constantly have your guard up. You didn’t even realize it, but when you woke up in the guest room this morning, there wasn’t a weight on your chest, there was no stress. It was such a freeing feeling.

You grabbed the remote and turned the television on, laying on the couch and propping your head up on the arm of the couch. You found something to watch and pretty much just hung out there until Calum got back.

“Everything’s in my car for now,” he said as he walked in. “Hi, by the way.”

You smiled softly and sat back up, rubbing your eyes.

“How did it go?” you asked him, making room for him on the couch.

“It went as well as you would expect it to go,” he shrugged, letting his head fall onto the back of the couch.

“Did he do anything to you?” you asked quietly, playing around with your fingers.

“He just wanted me to tell you some less than pleasant things and I told him to fuck off, grabbed your things and left,” he sighed, casually pulling your legs over his lap.

“What did he say?”

“To put it nicely, that he never wants to see you again,” Calum answered, obviously uncomfortable going any farther than that.

“Well ditto, so it’s all good there,” you huffed out, running your hand over the top of your head. “So what now?”

“Well, I was thinking that if you wanted to take the guest room, you could just kinda stay here? Split things like you did over there?” he mentioned and you smiled softly.

“Do you have any problem with me staying here?” you asked him, wanting to make sure.

“Nah, I was looking for a roommate anyways, and who else to have as a roommate than my best friend right?” he smiled softly, rubbing your shin.

“Thanks Cal…” you said sincerely, resting your head against your hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” he nodded.

“That night when you let me come here, you said that you could treat me better and like… I don’t want to be reading too far into it but like… what did you mean by that?” you inquired, playing with your lower lip.

For a moment, Calum had a look of confusion on his face but you could see the moment in his eyes where he remembered it and his face softened.

“Yeah, uhm, I dunno, I guess I just meant that I wouldn’t treat you like he did if you were over here you know?” he started and you nodded your head, giving him a soft smile.

“Makes sense, sorry I just wanted to check,” you chuckled and he nodded his head, returning your smile.

“I never did have a good feeling about him honestly,” he admitted.

“You never said anything…”

“I know, because you seemed to really, really like him and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. But then what happened the other night, he was treating you terribly and I knew that if I didn’t ask you to come with me then something might have happened and I… I wasn’t just about to put my best friend in danger you know?” he said softly. “I didn’t know what he could do to you and I wasn’t going to let him cross the line, so I’m glad you left with me…”

“I am too,” you admitted quietly, moving a little closer to him on the couch so you could wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

Calum put his arm around your waist so you could lean back slightly and still remain close. You sat in the moment and dropped your chin to his shoulder, letting your eyes close comfortably. For a while, the two of you sat quietly, the soft sound of the television playing as background noise.

“I can treat you better… whenever you’re ready,” Calum spoke up, keeping still.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly, playing with some tuffs of hair.

“Whenever you’re ready to be in a relationship… if you’ll let me, maybe I can take you out and we can go out… not just as friends, but like… a date, and if you don’t like it or if we don’t think it’s good for us, then we won’t push farther but…”

“That would be really nice Cal,” you said softly, pulling your head away.

“Would you like that?” he asked and you nodded your head softly.

“I really would… and if it doesn’t work out, then everything will still be okay,” you mentioned and he nodded his head.

He smiled widely at you, rubbing your back gently. “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, and I’ll take you out on a date, a proper one.”


You and Dean are pretty much oblivious when it comes to having feelings for each other, and Sam knows it too. But it’s not until when Dean gets hurt for you and him to admit your feelings to each other.

Word count: 1,842

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For the last two years Sam and Dean Winchester have always been there for you. When you needed help hunting a shape shifter, when your best friend was killed by a demon, and even when you broke your foot because you tripped over your own feet. Whenever you needed their help they would always rush to your aid no matter the situation. They were your best friends and nothing could change that, but that first time you saw them in that bar while on the same case, and you laid your eyes on Dean Winchester for the first time everything changed. Even though you didn’t know it Sam found it oblivious that Dean liked you too.

You are now walking into a diner in New Jersey to do some research on a new case. The hostess escorts you to your table and you sit down with your back facing the doors.

“Hi I’m Lydia, I’ll be your waitress today. Is there anything I can start you off with?” the waitress politely asks.

“I’ll just have coffee, thanks,” you reply.

“Alright, let me know if you need anything else.”

You nod your head in approval. As the waitress walks away you plug in your laptop and begin your research. Just as Lydia comes back with your coffee you hear two very familiar voices. Crap, it’s Sam and Dean. You try to act as natural as possible and not make any eye contact or draw any attention to yourself. So basically you were hiding from them. It’s not that you don’t like the Winchesters, it’s just that you were a shy and socially awkward person and hated seeing people you knew in public.

“Hey dude, is that-?” you hear Sam whisper to Dean.

Oh no, my cover is blown. I guess it’s really easy to tell who I am just by looking at the back of my head.

“Hey (y/n/n), long time no see!” You turn around to see Dean Winchester greeting you.

“Hey guys! Yeah it’s been a while.”

“So (y/n), what are you doing in Jersey?” Sam asks.

“Oh, I found a case. Possibly a demon.”

“Jeez, how many times is this going to happen?” Dean laughs.

“Yeah, we gotta stop running into each other like this,” you chuckle.

Dean blushes and rests his hand on his neck, “Well I wouldn’t mind it,” he says under his breath.

“What?” you ask not understanding what he said.

He quickly looks up realizing what just happened, “What? Oh, nothing.”

“So you want to team up and work on the case with us?” Sam asks.

“Yeah sure!” you smile. “I just need to check into the motel across the street.”

“Oh sorry, we took the last room, but you can bunk with us if you want.” Dean offers.


Oh boy, this could get awkward. Sharing a room with my crush and maybe even a bed is one of the last things I want to do right now. What if I snore? Or kick? OR SLEEP WALK?! When you’re done with you coffee you follow Sam and Dean in your car to the motel.

“Here we are,” Dean says welcoming you.

“Not to be rude or anything, but there are only two beds,” you point out, “Actually you know what, I’ll just take the floor.”

“No, no way. You’re our guest,” Dean argues.

“Dean, it’s fine,” you answer.

“Why don’t you just share a bed with Dean?” Sam smirks and looks at Dean, but Dean replies with one of those “cut- it- out” faces.

“Um, okay,” you start to get uncomfortable, and for whatever reason you can tell that Dean is too.

You place your duffle bag on Dean’s bed, head to your laptop, and sit across from Sam to continue your research. After hours of googling, you and Sam finally figure out where the demon is, which is Atlantic City, you decide to go to bed. And not to mention Dean is already out like a light. You walk over to the bed and stare at Dean sleeping. Well, here we go. You climb in next to him, and you turn your body so that you’re back is facing Dean’s. As soon as you get yourself situated, you feel Dean, who is still sleeping by the way turn around to face you and wraps his arm around your body. At this point your eyes are wide open in shock, but then again Dean is sleeping and he has no idea what he’s doing. You never realized how warm he was or how good he smelt until now, which made it that much easier to fall asleep.

Sam wakes up first and sees that you and Dean are still in the same position from last night. He quickly snaps a picture on his phone, then he decides to wake the two of you up by blasting “I Want To Know What Love Is” by Foreigner from Dean’s phone. You and Dean immediately jump up.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean says rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry man, you guys are just too funny,” Sam says, pulling out his phone to show you the picture he took.

“Sam…” you whine. He starts to laugh. “Can we just go kill this demon before we end up on America’s Funniest Home Videos?”


For whatever reason Dean let Sam drive “baby” as he calls it. During the ride to Atlantic City, Sam begins to notice that every so often while you’re sleeping Dean would look at you and smile as if you were the only light in his life.

As Dean is looking at you sleep for the tenth time Sam cuts in, “Dean?”

Dean quickly snaps out of it, “Yeah?”

“Uh never mind- we’re here.”

Dean turns around and taps you on the knee, “Come on, we’re here.”

You wake up and stretch raising your arms above your head and you yawn. “Kay,” you say tiredly.

As you begin to step out of the car Sam starts explaining who the demon is after, “So we’re dealing with a crossroads demon who goes around from casino to casino taking the souls of people who win at the slot machines. And get this, these people who it’s taking souls from aren’t even making deals, he’s just stealing them for the heck of it.”

“Crowley must be thrilled about that,” you say sarcastically.

“Yeah, right?” Sam chuckles. “And for whatever reason it’s hitting the casinos in alphabetical order, which means the next one it’s going to be at is in the Borgata.”

“Alright, let’s get a move on!” Dean says leading the way.

Sam eventually catches up to Dean in front, and they start to talk quietly.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam starts.

“Yeah?” Dean answers.

“I was going to ask you this before when (y/n) was sleeping, but when are you going to admit your feelings for (y/n)?”

“What? I don’t have feelings for (y/n).”

“Dean, come on. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting lately, and it’s pretty obvious you like her.”

“Okay maybe I do, but I’m just waiting for the right time.”

“Well it better be soon, I think she’s planning on leaving as soon as we’re done here.”

You notice Sam arguing with Dean as if he’s trying to get him to do something. As you’re trying to figure out what they’re talking about you see the Borgata Hotel right in front of you.

“Okay, so when we get in there the three of us are going to split up and take different parts of the casino. Just be on the lookout for a guy who is waiting for someone to win,” Dean explains.

You and Sam follow Dean until it’s time to split up. You begin to look around in your part of the casino for the demon. You then realize that Dean spots it in his area.

“Got him!” Dean shouts as he pulls out the demon knife.

You start to run through the casino to help out Dean. Just as Dean is about to stab the demon it takes the knife from him and slashes Dean’s torso. And the demon runs away.

“Dean!” you scream, trying not to cry.

You make it to him in time to catch him before he hits the floor.

“(y/n)” Dean whispers grabbing your hand.

“Dean, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” You try to say through your crying.

You can see Sam in the distance chasing the demon. You take Dean’s hand and hold it to his wound keeping pressure on it. You then put on your backpack, and help Dean stand up. He has one arm holding his wound and the other slung around your shoulders.

“We’ll go somewhere safe and quiet and I’ll have you patched up in no time,” you reassure him.

You find a utility closet in the back of the hotel where you bring Dean to get patched up. You help him sit on the floor and you unzip your backpack and open your first aid kit.

“(y/n)? I-” he starts to say.

“Shh, you need to save your breath,” you tell him.

First, you take Dean’s jacket off and take out your pocket knife and cut his shirt open so it’s easier to take off. Then you take a flask of whiskey and pour it over Dean’s wound. He winces in pain.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Lastly, you take out an ace bandage and gently wrap it around Dean’s torso.

“You good?” you ask Dean concerned.

“Yeah, I’m hangin in there,” he assures you.

Then you get a text from Sam.

Sam: Killed the demon, where are you guys?

You: Utility closet.

You sit back and lean against the wall next to Dean. Then you notice Dean staring at you.

“What?” you ask.


“Come on, tell me,” you say turning around so you are now facing Dean.




You roll your eyes. “Jerk,” you say to him.

“Bitch,” he replies.

It was quiet for a few seconds after that and you stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Then you find the two of you leaning in without thinking. And before you knew it you were kissing Dean Winchester. It was what you’ve always wanted. You placed your hands on Dean’s bare chest and he rested his hands on the back of your neck. Your heads moved so in sync and his lips were so soft, it was unimaginable.

“I love you (y/n).”

“I love you too Dean.”

“Well it’s about time,” Sam says standing in the door way.

“How long were you standing there?” you ask him.

“Uh, right around the time Dean said, ‘I love you (y/n)’ and I saw like a split second of kissing.”

“Can you please go away?” you ask him laughing.

“Yeah sure, but how long are you going to be? Cause the car’s running and price of gas out here is-” Sam starts to say.

“Now!” you and Dean say in unison.

“Okay I’m going! Jeez!”

“Now, where were we?” Dean says smiling.